#Propeller pump

[flowmorepump]

Propeller pumps are the types of pumps that enable the movement of large volumes of fluids, such as water. Such pumps are extensively used in farms, cities, and also in construction, to mention a few. In this article, let’s learn about propeller pumps, and how they work, and also let us look at some of the leading manufacturers of propeller pumps in India.

What is a Propeller Pump ?

A propeller pump is a type of pump that uses rotary blades to mix and hoist water or any liquid present in a positive head or the atmospheric condition and delivered through pipes out. They are meanwhile called propeller water pumps due to their blades and how the pump operates. When employed, the pump does not simply create pressure to liquefy a certain volume of water. The application of these pumps is especially favourable in cases where a large volume of water is to be moved, for example, a house with a large swimming pool. For example, there can be propeller pumps that fill oversized tanks with water or pumps that drain water from the battered landscapes.

India's Leading Manufacturers of Propeller Pumps.

India is famous for its propeller pumps, with many timely, reputable pumps placed in use. These pumps are strong and more durable; hence, they are used globally. A famous manufacturer of dependable propeller pumps is known as Flow More Pumps. These pump manufacturing companies make sure that their pumps can carry out various tasks, including agriculture and water treatment purposes.

What is the Working Mechanism of Propeller Pumps? The within blades of the pump are rotated by an internal propeller in propeller pumps. The rotation of the propeller makes the water inside the pipes move forward. This type of pump works very well when a lot of water needs to be moved within a short period.

[nhaneh]

what if I built my own rechargeable air blower wotsit instead of having to buy air duster cans...

[pumpssupplier]

Custom Pump Design Services

Our propeller pumps offer high efficiency in moving large volumes of water with minimal energy consumption. Contact us now!

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[pandelta-com]

A Powerful Resource: An All-Inclusive Manual on Booster Pump Systems

Efficiency Enhancement through the Use of Booster Pump Systems

Booster Pump Systems are essential instruments for fluid dynamics and effective water management. It would be impossible to exaggerate the importance of booster pump systems in various settings, including industrial applications, maritime environments, and leisure facilities such as swimming pools.

A Comprehensive Guide to Booster Pumps

Unheralded throughout its many uses, booster pump systems maintain a constant water pressure. The importance of the major components becomes clear when we examine them more closely:

Booster Pump: System Central

The booster pump is the engine that keeps the water flowing steadily through the pipes by pushing it against obstacles. The booster pump is the engine that drives water distribution systems, whether they are in tall buildings or in agricultural fields, to ensure effective irrigation.

A Lifeboat Battery Charger for Seafaring

The lifeboat battery charger is the show-stopper in underwater settings. In an emergency, this vital part keeps the lifeboat batteries charged to power the boat’s vital systems. The importance of the Lifeboat Battery Charger in ensuring the safety of mariners is highlighted by the fact that its dependability might have a fatal impact.

Control Panels for Marine Vessels: The Hub of Shipboard Operations

Shipboard Control Panels Revealed

Ships’ central nervous systems marine control panels oversee a wide range of operations critical to the ship’s navigation, security, and efficiency. These panels perfectly harmonize with Booster Pump Systems, coordinating a maritime symphony of activities.

Integrating Booster Pump Systems: A Seafaring Synergy

Marine Control Panels and Booster Pump Systems must work in perfect harmony for marine applications. Booster Pump System performance may be monitored and adjusted in real-time with the help of these panels, which optimizes efficiency and guarantees a pleasant sailing experience.

Marine Control Panels with a Lifeboat Battery Charger for Your Peace of Mind

The Marine Control Panel’s Lifeboat Battery Charger is crucial to keep life-saving machinery running. The readiness of lifeboats for deployment is ensured by a dependable charger, adding an essential safeguard for crew and passengers.

Creating a Havoc: Pool Control Panels

Immerse Yourself in Efficiency: Pool Control Panels

Regarding pools used for enjoyment, Swimming Pool Control Panels are the main attraction. Designed to make swimming fun and safe, these panels control the pool’s pumps, filtration, and other features.

Recreational Harmony: Optimizing Booster Pump Systems

Preserving pristine water quality and maximizing circulation efficiency may be achieved by optimizing booster pump systems using swimming pool control panels. Whether it’s a public or private pool, these panels are necessary for water temperature regulation and energy efficiency.

Conclusion

The most advanced devices for managing water resources are lifeboat battery chargers, control panels for ships, and panels for pools and spas. These systems guarantee uninterrupted water flow and are crucial in many areas of our lives, including industrial processes, marine safety, and recreational activities.

[phant0mth1ef]

fuck the big 3, it’s just big ME.

-

“woah! and l/n y/n shoots ahead of the crowd during the tightrope stage, are we sure her quirk isn’t too overpowered, eraserhead?!”

“yes, mic. we’re sure. she has a range.”

you were currently in the number one spot, just ahead of todoroki and bakugou as you ran as if your life depended on it, your arms pumping vigorously at your sides as the blood flowed through your veins.

you were waiting. waiting for the percect moment in the space time continuum, stragetizing, calculating. after all, your quirk was portals, you could open up a portal and walk out at your desired destination, but in order to do so, the timing must always be right unless you want to end up stuck in space.

there was always a distinct moment in which you could travel through a portal, get sucked into the galaxy, and quickly travel through in order to reach your desired destination. all of which is done in the short span of 10 seconds.

bakugou and todoroki had breezed past you by now, their quirks propelling them forwards as you waited for any distinct shift in the air, any sign.

and there it was, the smallest change in the way the clouds were shifting. your opening. you’d quickly opened a portal, getting through and zipping it shut as you ran inside the room you’d been trapped in, quickly reaching the end and opening up your exit portal.

if you were a second too early, or a second too late, you’d be lost in space forever. but your timing was impeccable as you walked through the last portal, your victory secured as you smiled up at the crowd.

you’d looked back, an angry bakugou, a nonchalant todoroki, and a disappointed midoriya.

“tch. space freak.” bakugou walked into your shoulder, causing you to stumble slightly.

you grinned, you could win this whole festival.

[unknownati]

v. retwist

a/n: boomshakalaka u give ekko a retwist n help him sweat it out after! sorry i have like 2 fluff fics and an angst fic lined up for him too. god knows if i'll post them tho

for the record, i don't rlly like (I HATE IT SO BAD HELP) this fic, but i saw a few people excited for it and i feel bad so 💔 come get ur dinner

christmas fic otw too maybe sumn with au claggor...

warnings/tags: lowercase intended, no use of y/n, no description of reader's physical features, fluff to smut, modern!ekko, implied black!reader (just a bit of aave lol), fem!reader, oral (reader and ekko receiving), hair pulling (minor but if you've gotten your hair pulled after a fresh retwist/braids...yk.), switchy reader and ekko, ekko's a munch 😕, whiny ekko, prolly a little ooc, this was written at night guys please cut me some slack

______________________________________________

"ow!"

"now you know that shit didn't hurt. stop moving."

"baby, i'm tenderheaded--oww!"

you scoff, your thighs pressing into the sides of ekko's head to keep him in place. every movement you made was met with a small wince, and every wince was met with a scoff and a roll of your eyes. his hands, littered with calloused scars, flew up to meet the meat of your thighs. the tips of his fingers sunk in, making small dips in your skin.

"you're dramatic. hold still, 'm almost done."

your fingers and wrists have been aching from the repeated motions made on the thick locs. the throbbing between your fingers didn't help, either. your legs cross over his shoulders, your ankles meeting at his sternum.

thoughts wandered, and your eyes eventually lost the thoughtful gleam in them as you zoned out in the soporific task of parting the last few locs.

part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist--ekkostopmoving--clip. part, gel, twist, clip.

eventually, you were done, and you stared down at the simple maze of white squares atop deep skin. "all done. that wasn't so bad, was it?"

ekko keens, touching his fingers to his raw scalp.

"mmh..."

you press a kiss to his temple, twisting open the greasy bottle of braiding foam and pumping it atop his head. a shaky exhale pushes through his nose upon the cooling sensation, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in four hours when your fingertips massage the mousse throughout his scalp.

your rigid thighs finally release his head from their grasp and you sit back on the bed. ekko excitedly propels himself off the ground and into the vanity, craning his neck down to inspect you work.

"wow, 's beautiful, firefly. thank you."

"mmhm, i know. you're welcome. your girl comes in to save the day, yet again!"

he faces you with his soft eyes and dopey grin, walking back over towards you. quietly, he moves the comb, clips, gel, and mousse onto the floor and grips your ankles, spreading your legs.

your face makes the quickest change, your stomach twitching as you start to sit up, but your movements falter when he just kneels between your legs and lays himself down on your body, head cradled on your shoudler.

"oh." you mutter, shaky fingers reaching up to caress his cheek. the oils you used to moisturize his hair crept down the side of his ears and cheeks, leaving them greasy.

his automatic reaction was to tease you. you could feel his smirk against your chest. "what? did you expect some type of payment?"

"no!..." a beat. "...maybe. i did sit there for four hours."

warm breath blows against your collar bone, a small laugh. smooth and silky. plump lips meet your clavicle, his fingers walking their way up your side. you shifted away from his hand with a breathy giggle, the act feeling like a tickle. his mouth pulled into a smile as he trailed up your neck, his hand following the same direction up your shirt.

before you know it, his lips are on yours, and his palm is kneading at your breast which he gained access to by pushing the cup of your bra up.

the kiss quickly turned desperate, from slow and sensual to greedy and messy. your tongues were practically fighting with each other, your breaths growing heavy.

he pulled away for what felt like a agonizing eternity to shrug his wife-pleaser off and pull your (his) t-shirt off of you. his eyes fell on your figure, an enticing sight that made his sweatpants grow uncomfortably tight.

"quit staring." you whisper, though you're staring equally as much as him. from his broad shoulders down to the small trail of hairs that ran into the peeking band of his boxers.

"sorry, 's hard not to. you look so good."

your ears heat up at his words as you watch him get off the bed, kneeling on the same pillow he sat on while you did his hair. his hands grabbed your around your ankles and pulled you toward the edge of the bed, smooching your waist as his hands swiftly tugged down your shorts.

he pushes your legs open by your knees, his kisses getting tantalizingly close to your throbbing heat.

"ekko," you whine, just to be met with a shit-eating grin. his arms wrap around your thighs so his hand can easily reach your clothed clit, his thumb pressing into it, rubbing feather-light circles.

"hey, maybe i should just do this since you were so mean while doing my hair. you think this'll be enough to make you cum?"

you groan, a sound rooted so deep within your core that it sounds like a growl. your hips shakily push against his thumb.

"ekko please don't play with me right now—"

he readjusts you quick, laying your hips flat against the mattress again.

"stop moving."

your eye twitches and you couldn't stop your hand from flying down into the neatly array of locs and metal clips in his head, tugging lightly. but to a tender head, that slight tug was like a lash.

"ow!--☆, that—"

"s-stick your tongue out."

ekko hesitates, but doesn't waste any time after you tilt your head expectantly. his tongue lays against his bottom lip, glossy brown orbs watching as your free hand pulls your panties to the side. before you even push his head down, his tongue is flat against your clit.

your head falls back against the sheets, a blissful sob reverberating through the walls and calling back to you, ringing in your ears.

his lips wrap around your clit, sucking lasciviously at the bud. he quickly started to remember why he fucking loved eating you out, your wetness like a sweet liquor that got him drunk every single time.

it almost felt perverted, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed upon tasting an acidic nectar on his tongue. he got off on your noises alone, the way you writhed above him, the way you cried out in pleasure, he drank it all in, too quickly. it filled his brain with a buzz, all his thoughts coming to a halt until all he could focus on was you.

well, kind of. he wasn't focused enough to hear your multiple pleads for him to slow down because you were close already. he was too busy devouring you like you were his first and last meal.

"c-cumming, fuck, ekko—i-i'm cumming, slow down," you moaned, white knuckling the sheets below you in attempt to keep yourself physically grounded.

his eyes squeezed shut as you shivered, your orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

you had to physically push him away from you because you were already overstimulated, pressing the ball of your palm into his forehead to push him away.

"f-fuck. holy shit." you gasp, barely able to catch your breath.

after a few moments of speechless panting, he looks up at you and sighs. "y'didn't have to pull my hair." though he was joking, you couldn't help but feel bad.

"i know, sorry baby. c'mere."

he stands up and lays down next to you, his lips and chin coated in a thick, clear layer of your arousal. you giggle, thumbing it off before kissing him.

"your turn?" you ask with lidded eyes. you can see his face light up, though he tries to play it off. he fails.

"yes. please."

__________________

"f-fuck, oh m'god, firefly please.."

you've switched positions, with you kneeling between his legs. you've been stroking his length and taking inches of him in your mouth for what has felt like a decade, taking your torturously sweet time with him.

the image was beautiful, a thin veil of sweat coating his mahogany skin, his tip angrily crying every time you slowly pump up and squeeze around the base of the head. his eyes were glossed over, looking down at you with pleading eyes. every movement you made had him twitching, his muscles pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashed within his core.

"shhh, hol' still, y'know it'll feel good when i'm done. can you do that for me, ekko? stay nice and patient and pretty for me, like you..." you tightly gripped the base of his dick, hearing his breathy whine being ripped from his throat, "aaallllways..." you stroked upwards, watching how he struggled to keep his eyes locked with yours. "do."

he nods, but you can tell he's struggling because he's really fucking close, but you're proud of him for listening.

"words?"

"shit, y-yes, i can. i can baby."

"good."

you only give him a couple seconds to relax before his tip is touching your uvula, a shocked gasp tearing from him. it only takes 4 seconds before he's spilling down your throat, apologizing profusely through restrained moans.

"fuck, h-holy shit," he gasps. you smile.

"that's what i said earlier!"

he rolls his eyes, pulling you up to lay next to him.

"thanks baby."

"...i dunno why you thankin' me yet, i ain't done with you."

[crazy-rafe-madler]

Attack On Titan

Jealous Levi x Reader

A/N: not exactly following the events of the battle, but I really wanted some jealous Levi so enjoy!

The screams of soldiers and the thunder of Titans filled the air as you sprinted across the rooftops, ODM gear propelling you forward. The fires from the Colossal Titan’s explosion lit the night like a funeral pyre, casting a hellish glow over Shiganshina. Your heart pounded as you leapt, dodging chunks of falling debris and the scattered remains of comrades.

You had barely survived the explosion alongside Hange. The rest of your team was gone—dead in an instant, consumed by the blast or crushed by falling rubble. Their screams echoed in your mind, haunting you as you fought to keep moving. There was no time to grieve. You had to live, if only to make their sacrifices mean something.

Somewhere beyond the walls, Levi was fighting. The thought of him battling the Beast Titan alone made your chest tighten, but you buried your worry. There was no time for distraction, no room for hesitation. The chaos of war demanded focus, and your feelings for Levi—feelings you had never dared to voice—were a vulnerability you couldn’t afford to show.

“Stay close, Y/N!” Hange called, their voice sharp and commanding, though grief was evident beneath their words. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else!”

You nodded sharply, determination masking the turmoil beneath your calm exterior.

When Zeke and the Cart Titan began retreating with Reiner’s body, you saw your chance. Hange was far behind you, and you weren’t going to let the enemy slip away. With a burst of speed, you pursued them, your ODM gear slicing through the smoke-filled air.

“Stop them!” you shouted, your voice raw from the heat and ash.

The Cart Titan growled, its claws swinging wide as it tried to deter you. You dodged easily, adrenaline pumping through your veins as your eyes locked on Reiner. He was vulnerable—injured and barely conscious. This was the moment to end it.

You landed on the rooftop ahead of their path, cutting off their escape. The Cart Titan hissed at you, its claws scraping against the rooftop as it crouched low in a menacing stance.

“Get out of my fucking way,” you snarled, your voice dripping with fury as you glared at the grotesque beast. “I’m ending this!”

Reiner’s human form stumbled toward you, his face contorted in pain and frustration.

“You never give up, do you?” he rasped, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You didn’t respond. Words were meaningless now. Your blades were too worn from the battle to be of use, so you engaged him with your fists.

The fight was brutal and raw. Reiner was strong, but you were faster, ducking under his strikes and delivering precise blows that sent him reeling. For a moment, you had the upper hand, driving him to his knees.

But then his hand found a blade lying amidst the debris. With a sudden burst of strength, he swung it toward you. You dodged, but the move left you open. He tackled you to the ground, using his weight to pin you.

Pain exploded through your side as the blade plunged into you, the sharp steel biting deep. You gasped, blood spilling from the wound as Reiner shoved you toward the edge of the rooftop.

“Die already,” he muttered, pushing you over.

The world spun as you fell, your vision blurring from the blood loss and the sheer drop beneath you. Just as you thought the end had come, strong arms caught you, jerking you upward.

“Y/N!” Jean’s voice was desperate as he held you tightly, his ODM gear anchoring you both to a nearby rooftop.

He landed carefully and laid you down, his face pale as he took in your wound. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” he muttered, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

Your strength was fading fast, but you managed a faint smile. “Thanks… Jean.”

“Don’t talk. Just—just hang on,” he said, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding. He brushed your hair from your face, his touch gentle despite his panic.

Far below, Levi arrived in time to see you collapse. His chest tightened as he saw Jean holding you, his hands on your face and your blood staining his uniform. A dark storm of emotions churned within him—worry, fear, and something far more bitter.

Without hesitation, Levi shot toward you, his movements fueled by pure adrenaline.

Levi landed beside you, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “Move,” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

Jean hesitated, his hands still on you. “She’s hurt bad—”

“I said, move,” Levi growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jean reluctantly shifted back but stayed close, his expression tense as Levi crouched beside you. Levi’s hands were steady as he pulled out his medical kit, cutting open your uniform to access the wound.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low but trembling slightly. “What the hell were you thinking, taking on Reiner alone?”

You tried to respond, but the pain was too overwhelming.

“Don’t talk,” Levi said firmly, his tone softening. “Just stay awake. Look at me.”

Jean knelt behind you, holding your shoulders to keep you still while Levi stitched the wound. You winced, the pain sharp and biting, but Levi’s steady presence grounded you.

“You’re going to be fine,” Levi said, though his jaw was clenched tight. “But you need to stop closing your damn eyes. Focus on my voice.”

Jean glanced at Levi, his worry plain on his face. “She’s losing too much blood—”

“I know,” Levi snapped, his irritation masking the fear gnawing at him. He worked quickly, his hands deft as he sealed the wound.

Once Levi finished stitching you up, he gently lifted you into his arms. Jean followed closely as they made their way to the top of the wall, where the wounded were being treated.

When they reached the top, Jean sat down with you cradled in his lap, refusing to let go. Levi crouched beside you, his face carefully blank as he cleaned your wound again, his sharp eyes watching for any signs of infection.

“You’re tougher than you look,” Levi murmured, his voice so low you barely heard him.

When the treatment was done, Levi placed his hands on Jean’s shoulder. “Let me take her,” he said, his tone more a command than a request.

Jean hesitated, his grip tightening on you. “She’s fine here—”

“Give her to me,” Levi interrupted, his voice cold.

Jean finally relented, though his jaw tightened as he watched Levi carefully shift your head into his lap. Levi brushed your hair back, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he watched your pale face.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

He kept you in his lap for a long while, his fingers absently stroking your hair as the others worked around them. Only when Sasha was brought nearby did Levi reluctantly lay you down beside her, his hand lingering on your shoulder before he stepped away.

When you finally opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Jean leaning over you, his face lighting up with relief.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. “Thank god. I thought…” He shook his head, his expression softening.

You tried to sit up, but he gently pressed you back down. “Don’t move. You need to rest.”

As you processed his words, you noticed the others nearby. Hange stood a little apart, their sharp eyes darting between you and Levi, who stood silently a few feet away. Sasha and Connie waved weakly from their spots, their smiles a welcome comfort.

Jean hesitated, then blurted out, “You know, back in Trost… I kissed you. After that mission. Do you remember?”

Silence fell over the group like a hammer.

Your cheeks flushed. “Jean…” you began, but his earnest gaze stopped you.

“I thought I was going to lose you then. And now… I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering.

Levi’s expression shifted—subtle, but telling. His jaw clenched, and his steel-gray eyes darkened, flicking from Jean to you. The muscle in his cheek twitched, his emotions a storm just beneath the surface.

“It was just a thank-you,” you said quickly, your voice steady but your heart racing. “Jean, you’re a good friend. But that’s all.”

Jean’s face fell slightly, but he forced a smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Hange smirked knowingly, their gaze flicking to Levi, who looked away sharply, his fists clenched at his sides. The tension was palpable as the others began to disperse, Sasha and Connie throwing sympathetic glances at Jean as they left to rest.

Hours later, the quiet night blanketed the wall. Most of the squad had fallen asleep, their exhaustion overtaking the remnants of tension. You were awake, sitting quietly against the cool stone, your wound freshly bandaged and throbbing dully.

Levi approached from the shadows, his movements silent as always. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes scanning your face with a rare vulnerability.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and even.

You shook your head. “Not with everything that happened today.”

He sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the day hanging heavily between you.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Back there, when Jean said that…” He hesitated, something unusual for him. “It pissed me off.”

You blinked, startled by his admission. “Levi…”

He turned to you, his gray eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’ve seen too many people die, Y/N. Too many people I cared about.” His voice softened, the hard edges smoothing slightly. “I didn’t think I had room for this anymore. For you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your throat tightening as his words sank in.

“But when I saw you fall,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “I realized I couldn’t lose you. Not like this.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You were too stunned, too overwhelmed by the depth of his confession.

Levi’s hand reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’m not good at this,” he muttered, his cheeks faintly pink despite the night’s shadows. “But I’m not letting you slip away. Not now. Not ever.”

This time, you found your voice. “Levi…” you said, your own voice trembling, “I’ve felt the same. For so long.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn’t, his lips met yours, firm and warm, yet achingly gentle. The world seemed to still, the horrors of the day fading into the background.

When he pulled back, his eyes softened, a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good,” he said simply, his voice laced with relief.

You rested your forehead against his, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Despite the war, despite the loss, you had found something worth holding onto. And you knew Levi felt the same.

[roguelov]

Scars and All

Summary: For a few years, you have been friends with Trafalgar Law. And for a few years you have harbored a crush on his dad, Donquixote Rosinante. You tried, and tried, to ignore such feelings, but perhaps it’s time to put it all out into the open. No more hiding, you will tell him how you feel. You only hope he will let you down gently.

Word Count: ~8.9k

Reader: fem/afab (reader referred to a sweetheart/sweet girl)

Warnings: SMUT (age gap (reader is in their mid 20s and Cora is 40), breast play, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, dirty talk, small breeding kink, mostly dom!cora), minor angst (denial of feelings), pining, fluff in the end

(Fanart and inspo for the fic by levikra)

The idle rumbling of the car was the only thing keeping you grounded, or was the irritable sensation propelling your already splintered mind into more of a frenzy? You pressed your forehead into the steering wheel. The sun’s ray heated the faux leather, unfortunately not bringing you any relief or comfort. Just more irritation.

This is stupid.

Grumbling, you lifted your head, peering up at the picturesque house. It was simple with a small porch with rickety chairs to recline in, and a worn down welcome mat. Shutters muted by the sun. Its attached garage had its mouths open revealing a sleek vintage car and a motorcycle parked inside.

Plain. Ordinary.

Yet, it was frighteningly daunting. You white-knuckled your steering wheel. Your heart pounded feverishly in your chest. Blood pumped so loud in your ears you could barely discern the jumbled voices from the radio. A song? An interview? Why did it matter? Why were you focusing on such trivial things when -

Dumb. This is so fucking dumb and stupid and - and I should just leave. He wouldn’t -

You banged your head - again - against the steering wheel, growing out in frustration. “What am I doing here,” you asked the rhetorical question in the lone space.

You tilted your head, glancing at your passenger and the reason for the afflictions to your spiraling mind: a plastic container of an assortment of cookies. The container sparkled in the sunlight as if smiling giddily eager to be delivered.

You grumbled to yourself, “Why did I talk myself into this?”

*****

“Ooo, it smells amazing in here!”

You peered over your shoulder, looking back at your friend and housemate, Evelyn. She hungrily eyed all the variety of cookies littered across the kitchen counters cooling and some already packed neatly in containers. Giggling, she snatched up a fresh one, biting into it.

She hummed, smiling at you, “It’s so good.”

Your cheeks warmed and you smiled bashfully, “Thanks.”

She plopped down at one of the dining chairs, happily nibbling on her cookie. “So why’d you make so much? And why did you ask me to help?”

You snickered at her tone and small pout. “Ah well, I wanted to make some chocolate chip cookies but then you saw we had plenty of other ingredients so it just spiraled out of control from there.”

She frowned a bit, deciphering your roundabout words. “Stress baking?”

Your eyes dropped to the side. Caught. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Why?”

You added some cooled cookies into another container. “Well … I was thinking about bringing some to Rosinante .. and I know Law is still doing his shift at the hospital.”

She beamed, finishing off her cookie. “Yeah, I bet they will like them.”

You said nothing, you just closed the container, sealing it tight.

Evelyn watched you for a moment. Your hand nervously patted on your pants, rubbing off the flour and sugar. Your eyes darted around counting and recounting all the cookies. “What’s wrong? What do you think they won’t like them?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh … no, that’s not the issue.” You shuffled side to side. “I thought that maybe I could finally do it.”

She cocked her head. “Do what?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “That … that I could tell Rosinante how I feel.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

She had known about your crush on him, you had confided in her some time ago. She had even comforted you when a few tears were shed under the veil of night. It wasn’t right to have a crush on your shared friend’s dad. You knew this. You tried to drop it, to let him go, yet with every conversation you had with him you fell a bit more.

“I … I just … I don’t want to keep pretending,” you quietly admitted. “If he doesn’t like me, then so be it … maybe I could finally move on once I hear it from him … it’ll be awkward as hell when we go over there in the future but … I should do this.”

No more delusions or what ifs. Your mind tired of these endless running thoughts every single night.

Eve gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, a small one. You placed a hand on your chest, rubbing the spot over your racing heart.

I got this.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up a perfectly packaged container. You held the container close to your chest, however once you turned to leave you froze.

Seeing your hesitation, Evelyn got up and started pushing you towards the door. “Alright, go.”

You dug your heels into the floor. “But -“

“Nope, now shoo.”

“Actually I - I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea and I don’t want to do the adult thing anymore -“

“It’s a wonderful idea,” she urged you, opening the front door for you. “And he’ll love them.”

And you, she thought.

“I don’t care if he likes the cookies,” you grumbled. “It’s the other thing.”

“You can do it. I know he likes you back -“

You vehemently shook your head, pushing back on her attempts. “I can’t -“

She spun you around, grabbing your arms. Her eyes blazed with determination, far more than your own. “Yes, you can. You said you would do it, so no backing out.”

You hung your head, sighing deeply, “… fine.”

She beamed. “Great! And don’t worry, I’ll keep Law away … for a few hours.”

Your cheeks burned. “Whoa, it won’t -“

With one final shove, you stumbled backwards out the door. She chirped in a cheery tone, “Now, go. And good luck!”

The door then slammed in your face.

*****

Fuck it, just do it!

Shutting off the engine and snatching up the cookies, you hopped out of your car. Every step towards the front door, every time your heart jumped up into your throat. You wanted to turn tail and hide, but how could you go back home? Eve will certainly give you trouble.

I could just sneak inside and hide away in my room.

You muttered to yourself. It was at least a decent idea.

Wrong. All wrong, a voice hissed in the back of your mind. You’re a friend of his kid, why would he even see you like this? You shouldn’t have even entertained this for a second. It’s all wrong.

Your heart ached. You shoved that voice back, locking it in the far recesses of your mind. You didn’t need it whispering in your ear. Again. You just needed to get this all off your chest, you couldn’t bear the weight of this secret anymore. The rejection will sting, it will gut you, and you will cry, but then hopefully you could finally move on.

With a shaky hand, you pressed the doorbell. The chime cut through the silence. You flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you wondered if anyone was watching this slow disastrous train wreck.

This is a dumb idea. Maybe I could -

The doorknob clicked then opened. You whipped around, staring up at the owner of the home, the father of your friend, and the owner of your heart: Donquixote Rosinante. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he smiled warmly, “Hey, what brings you around here?”

Matching his smile, you held up the cookies. “I made a bit too much so I thought I would stop by and bring some.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you, here -“ he moved aside giving you space to step in, “- come on in, you know where the kitchen is.”

You nodded, walking in. Smiling, Rosinante closed the door behind you. You passed by the living room and into the kitchen with Rosinante following behind you. You set down the cookies on the kitchen island. Rosinante circled around the island to the other side. He took his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a small glass tray. His eyes darted over to you. He saw the question written so clearly on your face.

“I know I’m trying to quit. Just please don’t tell, Law,” he said, taking a small drag. “I know the kid is almost a doctor now, but it’s hard to break such an old habit -“ he winked “- it can be our little secret.”

Your heart fluttered. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joy, unbridled joy and elation, bloomed at the nickname. It brought a warmth unlike any other: sunshine on a snowy winter morning, bonfire on a cool summer night, or a warm blanket wrapped around at night. You couldn’t remember when it started, but you loved it. His deep voice mixed so lovely with the affectionate tone of the name. It was this small insignificant thing that made your heart cling to hope, hope that maybe - just maybe - he felt something.

“Do you mind?” Rosinante pointed at the container.

“Oh! Uh, no please go ahead,” you answered.

He smiled then opened it up. He inhaled the tantalizing decadent aroma. “Smells great.”

He plucked a chocolate chip cookie. Holding his cigarette between his fingers, he took a bite. He hummed. His eyes twinkled with delight. ”This is amazing! You’re a great baker.”

You smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

Looking at him, your expression softened as he finished the cookie with a smile. However as he ate the last bite, your eyes caught something. “Hey, uh, you have …,” you gestured to a spot on your own cheek.

Rosinante tilted his head. His golden hair swept across his forehead. His innocent face made him appear decades younger.

How can a grown man look so adorable?

You reiterated, “You have some chocolate on your cheek.”

“Oh!” He swiped his thumb across his skin - to where you pointed - then gently sucked the chocolate off. He hummed, licking his lips. “Thanks.”

You kept your voice steady. “No problem.”

He really doesn’t understand what he does to me.

“Any reason you made so many cookies?” Rosinante asked, closing the lid.

You shrugged. “Just wanted some, but then it kind of spiraled into making a bunch of different batches.”

He smiled, leaning on the island. “Well, thank you for sharing. I might eat them all before Law gets a chance to try one.”

You mimicked him, resting your elbows on the island. “No worries, we have plenty back at the house … that is if Eve doesn’t eat them all.”

He snickered and took another drag of his cigarette.

Your eyes skimmed over him. He truly was a golden god, yet wrapped up with some boyish charms. You tore your eyes away. Your heart started to speed up again with the mere thought of spilling everything out in the open. He picked up the cookies, turning his back to you and putting them next to the fridge. It was out of sight, and somewhat hidden for a sweet treat for himself later.

Ok, fuck, breathe. Just - just say it. It’s now or never.

Clearing your throat, you spoke in a shaky voice. “Rosinante?”

He hummed, his back still to you,

I can do it. It’s fine - it’ll be fine.

You took a long deep breath. “I … I have something I want to tell you.”

He froze.

Instantly, he knew where the conversation would go before you could utter another word. The thing was Rosinante wasn’t clueless or oblivious to your infatuation with him. He will admit he didn’t at first, however it all clicked. He saw how you clung to each of his words, how you stared at him when you thought he wasn't watching, how you leaned towards him craving his warmth, or how you always sought out his company. He was surprised, yes, and in heavy denial for some time. But, as weeks passed, his observation and theory only solidified.

He could only hope your crush would pass.

Rosinante twisted around. “Please don’t.”

Most of all, Rosinante hoped and prayed his own attraction to you faded. It started as a small bud in his chest. Yet, the more and more you came around, the more you talked and laughed with him, the more the simple infatuation grew. It rooted its vines deep within his heart, taking hold and control of him. He craved your presence constantly, you were becoming his new addiction.

But, it wasn’t right.

Rosinante sighed heavily. Taking his cigarette, he smothered it out in the ashtray. “I know what you’re about to say.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Does he?

He glanced up, staring directly into your eyes. Why were his eyes so sorrowful? Or … pitiful? “You we’re about to make a confession, were you not?”

Embarrassment. White hot searing embarrassment coursed through you. Your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. You quickly dropped your head, hiding your boiling shame. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails burying into your palms.

“Please don’t.”

His haunting words replayed on repeat.

Fuck, I was right. Shit -

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing back the tears.

Rosinante frowned. Fuck. Maybe, he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe, he should have let you speak first. But, he was trying to save you some pain. He moved around the counter, hovering by your side. His hand raised to comfort you. However, when he heard the faint sniffles, his heart clenched and his hand dropped.

Damn it.

“Look, it’s -“

You snapped your head up. You smiled, an awfully forced one that didn’t convince Rosinante in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to swim faster than the typhoon of emotions hurtling through your mind. “No, you don’t have to explain yourself. I - I understand … I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

It was a long shot, an impossible chance. Why did a part of me believe it would work? How delusional could I be?

You spun on your heels to leave, but Rosinante caught your wrist. He tugged you back. His hands cupped your face, forcing you to stay and look at him. He searched in your frantic eyes to see if he overstepped. But, all he saw was pain trying to be bottled up. “I do owe you an explanation, it’s only right,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “sweetheart, it’s cliche I know but it’s not you, it’s me … I’m … I’m not right for you.”

Your heart - your conflicted heart - flipped. “… what?”

He sighed, “You are kind and wonderful and amazing -“

And everything I could ever hope for, he thought.

“- but I’m broken. I’m old. I’m scarred. I’m - I’m not whole.”

Unlike you.

His words swirled around in your head. Broken. Old. Scarred. “So?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Rosinante’s eyebrows furrowed.

Pushing down your nerves, you pressed on. “Not everyone is perfect and - and without flaws, do you think I am? Do you think I don’t have some sort of scars whether etched into my skin or across my heart?”

He blinked, taken back by your words.

Just spill it all. He … he already knows.

“Only you make me feel like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze. “Only you can constantly make me laugh and smile, and - and brighten my day. You make me feel seen, heard.”

Rosinante’s heart hammered. “Can - can you look at me?”

Your eyes wearily inched back up. Your eyes were glassy with tears threatening to spill.

He smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Hey, don’t waste your tears on this old fool.”

“Why not?” You muttered, desperately keeping your voice calm. “You’re amazing … why can’t you see that?”

Because I have a complicated past, he bitterly thought. I’m old, past my prime. You deserve better.

“Sweetheart -“

“Please,” you cut him off. “If - if you don’t like me, want me, or - or see me in this way then just please let me go. Don’t make me stay here any longer … but if you do … if you like me in some way … then …”

Your voice trailed off, leaving it up to him to interpret. An admission of his feelings? A kiss? It just had to be some obvious sign. You were trying not to crumble before him.

Please, just let me go.

Rosinante licked his lips. His heart raced sporadically in his chest. What should he do? What was the right thing to do?

To let you go.

To save you - one of his son’s friends - from this broken old man.

But what did he want? What did his heart yearn for?

You. He wanted you, he always wanted you. And maybe this was his only chance at happiness.

Why shouldn’t he at least try?

He leaned down slowly as if waiting for you to run, for you to get out while you could. But, you stayed firm. His face hovered inches above yours. His eyes bore into you searching and deciphering any signs, or tells, that meant regret. He couldn’t. He only saw hope, hope that this wasn’t a fantasy, hope that you could finally love and cherish him as you believed he deserved.

His eyes slid down to your lips, so soft and waiting so patiently. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. His eyes flickered back, locking with yours. “I want this, but tell me,” he whispered desperately; his hand now wrapped around the back of your neck holding you firmly, realizing he didn’t want you to run away now, “tell me you want this. I - I just need to hear you say it.”

You hesitantly reached up, touching the side of his face. His chin was slightly prickly unlike his usual kempt appearance. Your hand traced upwards, threading through his blonde locks - that nearly covered those beautiful rustic red eyes of his. “I want this,” you breathed out. “I want you, scars and all.”

Rosinante crashed his lips against yours. He claimed your lips, pouring all this untapped love into it. He wanted - needed - you to know how much you meant to him, how much he wanted this, and how long he had deprived himself of it. His lips parted, darting his tongue along your lips pleading for entrance. You shakily parted your lips, still surprised this was truly happening. Rosinante hummed, slipping his tongue inside. You whimpered faintly. With your head tipped all the way back to accommodate his height, you were truly at his mercy.

And you loved it.

He eagerly explored your mouth, swirling his tongue wanting to taste every part of you. You clung to him, feeling your knees about to buckle. Chocolate and hints of nicotine blossomed over your tongue. His tongue commanded your attention, yet so did his hands. His dexterous hands glided down your body. He awkwardly hunched forward, but he didn’t mind. He had you, he could hold you, touch you. His hands greedily roamed over you, mapping out the curves and lines of your body. He sneakily cupped your rear and thighs, making you gasp. Rosinante smirked against your lips. A quick squeeze and jerk urged you to jump.

And you did.

The ex-marine lifted you up quite easily. Your legs wrapped so wonderfully around his waist, and you threw your arms over his shoulders. However, he couldn’t make it quite far. Taking only a few steps, he stumbled into the wall. You were far too distracted by his lips and touch, you hadn’t noticed his quick reaction: one of his hands cradled your head, protecting it from the wall.

He pulled away from your lips, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you panted.

He smiled, wide and beautiful, making his eyes crinkled in an adorable way. He was enthralled with you, and this moment. How could you truly be here in his arms, in his grasp? It was a dream, a dream he didn’t want to ever end. “Can we keep going?” He asked, nudging his nose against yours.

“Please,” you answered.

He captured your lips again, but slower. He wanted to memorize the shape and feeling of your lips. There was precision to his movements, a dance. The ex-marine knew how to maintain control, and how to draw everything out. Each stolen breath, each push and pull of his lips, each slow drag of his tongue, each teasing nibble left you clinging to him.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, skimming up your back. You shivered at his cool calloused fingers. He murmured, “Soft.”

His fingertips drew nonsensical patterns, or so you thought. He purposefully drew hearts and spirals, carving his unspoken love. His hand moved upward before dragging his blunt nails across your back. He so desperately wished to mark your skin, to put his scar on you.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He begged into your swollen lips.

You didn’t answer. Using the wall as leverage, you haphazardly wiggled out of your shirt and tossed it randomly onto the kitchen floor. Excited and dazed, you didn’t bother to wait for him to ask about your bra. You unhooked it, adding it to the pile. His eyes widened, staring down at your breasts with his slightly mouth agape.

Fuck, this is really happening, he thought.

You nervously bit your lip. Your mind began to second guess his silence.

Shit, did I go too far? What if he didn’t -

Rosinante quickly hoisted you higher up then craned his head down. His lips wrapped perfectly around your breast, sucking on it. You sighed, arching your back to better help him. Your fingers slipped into his hair, holding his head close. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. His tongue circled around your nipple. Your lips and mouth had just learned his sensual dance. Every swipe of his tongue, your body shuddered. He teasingly nipped at the bud, making you gasp. He removed his mouth with an audible ‘pop‘ like he wanted you to know how good you tasted, how much it pained him to break away. Yet, he couldn’t neglect the other. He kissed along your chest, hungrily capturing your other breast.

“Rosi,” you breathed out.

Fuck, he loves how that sounded. How could his name send such intense pleasure skyrocketing through his body? His cock jumped in his pants. Gods, he needed to hear it again, and again, and again. His hands squeezed your ass both trying to hold himself back and as if you forced it out of you.

And it worked.

You whimpered.

Faint, yet so sweet.

Pulling away from your breasts, he rested his forehead against yours. Your chests heaved in an odd symphony. The thinnest space separated your lips, your shared breaths mixed together. His air was yours and your air was his, souls were mingling in such close proximity. His eyes shone, all his emotions now officially and completely bare.

No, more hiding. No more denying.

He stole your lips once again, unable to get enough of them. Humming, you arched your back, pressing your now spit covered breasts into him. The tiny bit of friction of your perked nipples across his rough shirt sent sparks of pleasure down your spine. However, and unfortunately, he broke the kiss far too quickly. You eagerly chased after his lips, needing them. Rosinante hid his amused smile. He kissed down your neck, swiping that devious tongue of his over your sensitive skin. He whispered, “You taste like sugar.”

“I - ah - I may have made a mess earlier,” you admitted. “Butter and sugar got everywhere.”

He chuckled. He wanted to say he expected no less from his sweetheart. Sweetness seemed to always pour from you, and he always wanted to drink from you - to always have a taste. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated taking you here. He could lay you across the kitchen island, pour honey across your skin, especially your breasts, and have his way with you. But, he shelved such an idea.

Not today, another time, he promised himself.

“Upstairs?” He asked into your neck.

“Up - fuck.” Rosi nipped at your skin, gently sucking and soothing the spot. His lips curled into a smirk, a smirk you felt burned into your skin. Your head tipped back into the wall as he continued his sweet assault. How could such a kind, sweet man be so conniving, so sly?

“What was that, sweetheart?” He teased in a low tone.

“Upstairs.” You breathlessly added, “Please.”

“Of course.” He pushed off the wall, delicately carrying you up the stairs.

However, since he was so focused on carrying you, you decided to return such delightful favors. You started by peppering his face in adoring kisses from his cheeks, to his nose, then his lips.

He chuckled with a growing smile, “Sweet girl, you need to stop or I might trip.”

“We’ll be fine,” you brushed him off.

Your lips trailed soft butterfly kisses along his prickly jaw and down his neck. Your sweetness turned sinister. You placed a single open mouth kiss on the crook of his neck. He let out a soft pleased sigh. Your teeth then grazed over his skin. His grip on you tightened. You lightly bit him, feeling a shudder run through his body. Smirking, you sucked - viciously and without remorse - on a sensitive spot ensuring you left your mark on him.

His reaction was perfect. He groaned and stumbled backwards into the wall by his bedroom door. The thud resonated through the still home, so much so a few pictures wobbled on the wall threatening to fall. “Shit,” he hissed.

You continued your attack listening to his heated swears under his breath. Once you felt satisfied, you pulled away, eyeing your red spot with a triumphant grin. It will only darken with time, a lovely reminder. Looking into his eyes, they were blown wide with lust and desire which mirrored your own. Smirking, you teasingly nipped his bottom lip. He swore again. Using one hand, he brought your head closer, attacking your lips with new energy. He pried himself off the wall and rushed into his bedroom. He used his muscle memory stumbling and swaying into the room until his shins hit the edge of his bed. Carefully, he laid you down on his sheets.

So gentle, so delicate.

His lips skimmed down to your heaving chest, between your breasts and to your hips. His fingers followed after his lips, tracing down your sides. Your breath stuttered at his feathery touches. His breath fanned over your lower stomach, hitting the waistband of your pants. His eyes flickered up, peering through his eyelashes.

“Can I?” He whispered in such a loving tone.

You nodded, unable to muster up a single syllable.

He undid the buttons of your pants and tugged them down while you lifted your hips to help. He bit the inside of his cheek. So beautiful. His hands traveled up your legs, squishing your thighs. She’s really here. He then spread your legs a bit, and didn’t miss the dark wet patch on your underwear. His chest burned with desire knowing he was responsible. His finger hooked around the band of your underwear. If he could, he would have torn them off already.

“Can these go next,” he asked, continuing to ensure he had your consent with every step.

Your heart skipped. “Y-yeah.”

He pulled them off as calmly as possible, and tossed them aside. Your cunt was dripping. He swore his mouth started to water. Swallowing, he silently drank in your figure, still reeling you were here. He wanted to ravish you, he wanted to make love to you, he wanted to do it all.

However, for you, the silence pressed on for too long. His blank stare morphed into disinterest in your mind. Insecurities bubbled up as it dawned on you how you were now completely naked before him. Your hands covered your chest and you snapped your legs closed.

What am I -

Rosinante’s eyes widened at your sudden change. He immediately climbed onto the bed, over top of you, and removed your hands from your chest. “Please, don’t,” he breathed out. “I - I’m sorry … you’re just so beautiful.”

Your cheeks and chest flooded with heat. You quickly turned your head to the side, hiding.

He cupped your cheek, turning your head back to him. “You are. Please don’t hide from me.”

His soft expression and kind smile eased back the fears. You slowly nodded.

“Good. Here, it’s only fair.” He leaned back and removed his shirt, adding it to the pile on his floor.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes darted all over, taking him all in. So many scars. You propped yourself up on your elbow, reaching out. You carefully traced over each of them, outlining the rigids and harsh ragged shapes. Rosi watched you intensely. A shiver ran down his spine. You were so delicate, as if he were made of glass. Your face filled with some kind of concentration, one he didn’t fully understand.

You asked softly, “Can … can you flip over?”

Stunned a bit, yet Rosi complied. He rolled onto his back into the squeaky mattress. You swiftly straddled his hips. Before he could ask, you bent down kissing one scar by his ribs. His heart leapt up into his throat. You then methodically kissed every single scar - no matter the size nor how gnarly it appeared - all over his chest. You finished your endeavor by kissing the one near his heart, an almost fatal hit. His heart thrummed beneath your lips, and you felt the elated vibrations. You peered up to see his cheeks flushed a rosy red and his lips parted as he tried to calm his breathing. You had rendered this man - this near mammoth of a man - into an utter mess. He was putty under such touches, touches he had long deprived himself of.

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a beat which your heart harmonized with. “I’m sorry, did I -“

“Don’t.” He let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t apologize. I - I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your hand followed the curve of his chest to a scar on his right shoulder. You, once again, traced the shape. Rosi shuddered. At his reaction, a thought suddenly dawned on you. “Rosi, are your scars sensitive?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling, “Just a bit.”

Noted.

You held back a devious smirk. Sitting up, you placed your hands on his chest. Your nails raked down.

Maybe I could have some fun -

Rosi’s hands suddenly gripped your hips. He yanked you all the way up his body. A sharp gasp left your lips. Your hands flung out and collided with the wall for support. Your eyes - wide and somewhat confused - dropped down. You now straddled over his face, your knees on either side. His hands wrapped around your thighs and squeezed, letting the fat pool between his fingers. Most importantly, his grip indicated one thing: he was unwilling to let you go.

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking up at your dripping cunt like it was a meal.

Your heart sped up, “Wait, Rosi - I -“

“Sweetheart, I dreamt of this so many times,” he whispered. His breath, each puff of air, sent jolts through your body. “Please, can I have this?”

No one had begged before.

Trying and failing to keep your voice steady, you stuttered out, “I, uh, y-yes - ah!”

Rosinante eagerly yanked you down, unable to wait another second. Humming, his lips wrapped around you. The tip of his tongue swept over your folds, collecting and tasting you. Sparks burst through you.

“Rosinante,” you moaned. How could one single motion left you so vocal?

He smirked at your reaction as he weaved a spell over you. He moaned as he started devouring you. His tongue teasingly traced your folds. You shuddered. He did it once, twice, then pushed his tongue inside of you. He curled his tongue, hitting your spongy walls. You whimpered. Your hands balled up into fists, clawing at the wall. His tongue - long and thick - moved with precision. His age and experience truly showed in his moment. He knew how to work it, how to render you in his beautiful mess.

He hummed. The wondrous vibrations made you moan loudly and unabashedly. A noise you never expected you to make. One of your hands instinctively shot down and latched onto his hair. Mindless on your growing pleasure, you tugged on his strands, making him groan. More vibrations, more dizzying sensations, more of your juices coated his lips and face.

Rosinante nearly rolled his eyes back. Fuck, this was better than his measly dreams. His cock twitched in his pants at each of your sounds. And gods if you tasted and felt this amazing just around his tongue, then how would it feel to be buried inside of you? Precum spilled in his pants at the mere thought.

Pleasure built deep in your stomach. As his tongue expertly moved and curled in and out of you, you lowered yourself more and greedily rocked your hips to chase after the pleasure. He moaned. His fingers dug harshly into your thighs, possibly leaving bruises.

“That’s it, sweetheart, ride my face,” he purred.

Shit.

Rosinante’s eyes darkened. Your walls fluttered around his tongue at his blunt words. He watched your head tip back as a sweet whimper hummed in the back of your throat.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured with a devious smirk.

His words added to the insatiable heat burning you from the inside out. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pornogrpahic moans daring to escape. He continued to watch, unwilling to tear his gaze away. He loved how your breasts bounced, tempting him to feast on him again, how your back curled so elegantly, how your thighs slowly squeezed around him minimizing his world so it was you and you alone, and how your hips stuttered losing concentration at his words, his pet names, and his merciless tongue.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” his voice was low and commanding, drawing up such a tone from his former marine days.

You shakily glanced down at him. Your eyes drooped with lust and desperation, your chest heaved gulping down air, and your mouth hung open as whimpers and moans poured out. To him, you were picture perfect, a sight to behold and cherish.

He turned his head, kissing your thigh. “Good, now can you lean forward for me?”

With a tiny nod, you tipped your hips forward.

”That’s it, good girl.”

Your whole body pulsed. Such praise, such simple words shouldn’t set your body ablaze, and yet you nearly crumble. You already wanted to hear that honey tone pour from his lips again.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking on it. You inhaled sharply. His hand then caressed down between your thighs. It trailed down with such a light tough until one of his slender fingers dragged slowly through your soaked lips. You lurched at the feeling. He gingerly pushed his finger in. You shut your eyes tight and bit your lip, almost drawing blood. His finger moved painstakingly slow, both wanting to be careful yet also wanting to tease you closer to that edge.

“More,” you begged, already pushing your hips back. “Please.”

Rosinante happily and easily added a second finger. The wet sounds echoed in the room from him hungrily sucking and licking at your clit, to his fingers being drenched in your juices. It was all too much. You pressed your forehead into the wall, closing your eyes. It held all of your support. You were panting, nearly drooling as pleasure claimed your whole body.

Fuck, Rosinante could come at the sight of you like a horny teenager. His cock ached to be free, to be buried within your walls, to be stroked by your delicate fingers, to be wrapped around your tongue, or perhaps to be smushed between your breasts. He wanted it all. But, he also wanted this. He needed this just as much as you did. His pleasure can wait, he wanted to devote all his energy onto you. He hummed again.

Another moan fell off your lips.

Cracking open your eyes, you were greeted with Rosinante’s red glowing eyes beneath you. He then kissed your clit, softly as if giving one a kiss on the cheek, and cooed, “Be a good girl and come all over my face.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He chuckled, a rich laugh. He crooked his finger, hitting a certain spot. You gasped, seeing stars. “T-There, fuck, right there.”

Rosi immediately zoned onto that spot. His fingers bullied into you with new purpose. Each curl, scissoring, of his fingers snatched your breath away. His tongue and mouth, however, could not be forgotten either. He sucked and swirled his tongue, guiding you closer to the edge. You tightened your grip on his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. And he could only moan. Pleasure and pain tangled so well together.

You mewled, “Rosi, I - I about to come.”

“Give it to me,” he growled.

The pressure built and built, and you quickly abandoned all caution and care. You began to grind back on his fingers, practically humping his face. A fog was casted over your mind, only able to think of your pleasure. Rosinante moaned, fueling your end.

Yes, use me, he thought.

A few more pumps of his slender fingers, mixed with his constant attack on your clit, you cried out his name gushing all over his face. The edges of your vision blurred with stars. Rosinante swiftly pulled out his fingers and greedily drank you up. He groaned, enjoying every drop. He feasted until your legs were shaking, ready to topple over and you were whimpering and jerking from the intense overstimulation.

He thankfully - and finally - stopped. He lifted you up and off his face, laying you down on the bed. He then littered your heavy tired body with kisses as you came back to your senses. He kissed your cheek then forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, tossing him a lopsided smile. “I’m good.”

Great. Fantastic. Amazing.

He smiled, giving you a short kiss. He continued his conquest kissing down your neck and chest. You sighed dreamily, threading your fingers through his hair. Your desires, however, were being reignited by every kiss. You still craved more, you wanted him all.

“I want you,” you whispered softly.

He lifted his head with some hesitancy behind his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You hadn’t been more sure in your life.

“Ok,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on your lips.

Standing up, you finally could drink in the full sight of him. The years had been so kind to him. He was like a Greek god: golden hair kissed by Apollo and Helios, a rugged physique that battled Ares’s, a booming laughter rivaling Zeus’s own thunder, a voice so rich and luscious like ambrosia poured directly from Dionysus’s cup, and all of it wrapped together and blessed by Aphrodite’s touch.

He was beautiful, more than beautiful he was ethereal.

He tugged down his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes trailed down to chest, to his stomach, to the thin patch of darker blonde strands to his hard cock - long and thick, matching his already intimidating height. His tip red and swollen as precum leaked out, a sign of your effect on him.

You swallowed nervously.

Would he fit?

Rosinante’s ego inflated at your stunned reaction. He kicked aside the clothing, unfortunately his clumsy curse returned momentarily. Getting tripped up, he toppled sideways, crashing to the ground. You immediately sprung up. Before you could think to ask if he was okay, he propped himself up. His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. He huffed, resting his chin on the edge of the bed.

Smooth, he sarcastically thought to himself.

You bit your lip then bursted out into laughter. You know you shouldn’t, yet you shouldn’t have expected anything less. He perked up, and smiled at your infectious laugh. You crawled over to him, sitting back on your knees. You cupped his face, bending down kissing him softly. Pulling away, Rosinante looked at you as if you brought upon his salvation, as if you were an oasis in the desert of his life.

“Are you okay?” You asked, still concerned about him.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Good.”

Still holding his face, you gently drew him with you, urging him back on the bed. He listened to your silent command. You fell backward, scooting up the bed while he slowly crawled over top of you.

“Are you sure?” He repeated.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down. “Yes, I want you. Like I said, scars and all.”

His heart melted. He kissed your nose. His hand slid down your side, sending ripples of anticipation. He guided your leg over his hip. He gave your thigh a quick reassuring squeeze. He will happily take the lead in this dance, he will ensure you are cared for. There will be no misstep.

He lowered his hips, brushing the tip of his cock over your dripping folds. You shivered at the size and warmth of him. He teasingly rubbed through your folds and over your clit, enjoying how his precum mixed with your first orgasm. Your nails sunk into his skin. Crescent shapes adorned his body with more marks to come.

“We’ll take it slow, ok?” He whispered.

“Ok,” you mumbled, beginning to lose yourself all over again.

He reached down grabbing the base of his cock, and slowly pushed the head of it in. You bit the inside of your cheek. It stung. The stretch was unlike anything you had experienced or felt.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he spoke, reading your expression and feeling the tenseness of your body.

You panted, ”Keep going.”

You wanted this.

Listening, he pushed in further. A sharp hiss left your lips. You clawed at his back, red ribbons added to the jagged pale scars. Rosinante almost stopped, fearfully he was hurting you too much.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. The sting had begun to subside as pleasure whisked you away.

Rosinante again listened to you. He may lead this dance but he had a partner he must be attentive too. You whimpered, shutting your eyes and adjusting to his size. Your heel dug into the meat of his calf, pleading him to keep going. With one final push, Rosinante was completely in filling you to the brim. He panted heavily over top of you. He watched as your face contorted from minor pain to absolute pleasure. Opening your eyes, you were met with pure unfiltered love, a culmination of months upon months of locked feelings, of denial and heartache.

It was finally all unburden, and unchained.

Breathless, you both stared at each other unmoving. Neither of you could. You both desperately wanted to stay here, to preserve such a memory and feelings. He filled you, your senses utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of him. And your body welcomed him in return.

It was as if you were made for each other.

Rosinante hid his face in your shoulder, exhaling shakily. Shit, I feel like I could come right now.

“I’m going to move now,” he grunted into your neck.

“Please.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly moved his hips. His thick cock dragged through your walls before thrusting back in.

You whimpered.

“I got you,” he whispered. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

“Just - just please don’t stop.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. His hips increased in speed, spurring stars to burst in the corners of your eyes. Your mouth hung open as a silent moan spilled out. His cock stretched and filled you leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake. You wrapped your other legs around his hip, clinging to him. You were immediately becoming drunk and desperate on such pleasures. And Rosinante wanted to give you everything, to have you consumed by pleasure. He curled over you, pressing his forehead against yours. Lifting your hips, he hit a new angle, deeper and far more intimate.

“F-Fuck, Rosi,” you moaned. You clawed harshly at his back. An apology sat on your tongue, but every thrust left you mewling. You could only babble his name or curses.

Rosinante glanced down, seeing your stomach bulge at the size of his cock. “S-Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned. “You’re taking me so well. Look.”

You peered down. The debauchery sight left you speechless. His hips slapped deliciously against yours. Your stomach bulged every time his cock disappeared back in. And when he pulled out, you saw how his cock was slick and coated with your mixed juices. Not to mention at this new angle, the tuft of his snail trail rubbed wondrously against your clit only furthering your pleasures.

Fuck.

Whimpering, your head fell back into the bed. You bucked your hips, matching his thrusts. Rosinante whimpered, almost unnoticeable. “Fuck, just like that.”

He grabbed your hands, prying them off his back and pinning them to the bed. His fingers interlocked with yours, and squeezed your hands. He captured your lips, kissing you sweetly and pouring all of his love into it. His mouth, his hands, were passionate, and yet his hips were so sinful. The trio constantly stole your breath, leaving you in such a messy state.

Breaking the kiss, he smiled down at you. Still boyish, despite the years on him. Hearts danced in his eyes, and you knew you were the same. Every movement, every thrust, every shared breath, every touch - no matter how minuscule - was written with love.

And he was beginning to love watching you squirm on his cock.

He bent his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes rolled back. The stretch of his cock, the grinding on your clit, the swirl of his tongue on your breast, each sensation brought you closer and closer to the edge. Each delicious friction melted your mind, and your body could only react. Your own well-timed thrusts started to waver as desperation sunk into your bones.

You whined faintly, “Rosi, so close.”

He popped off your breast. “I know, sweetheart, come on. Come around my cock.”

You shivered, lolling your head to the side.

“Be my good girl,” he purred into your ear, rolling his hips. “Come on, sweet girl, come on my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him, warning him. He gritted his teeth, holding back his own pleasure. He needed to feel you come first. He snapped his hips with new fever, hitting the perfect spot. You gasped loudly. Blinding pleasure covered your senses. Rosinante saw your beautiful reaction and continued to hit the same spot over and over. His pace was unwavering, he needed to see and feel you come.

“Make a mess on me,” he moaned.

You tightened your grip on his hands, digging your nails into him. You squirmed and writhed on his cock. You whimpered as your orgasm approached quickly. Rosinante groaned in your ear, whispering such sinful things. You bucked your hips up just as he snapped his hips, and it all came crashing down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you walls clamped down as you cried out his name. He kissed you, swallowing up your moans and cries. He then kissed your cheek where a tear glided down, to your forehead, and finally nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I got you, sweetheart.”

His hips continued to pump into you, letting you ride out your orgasm. It was a beautiful sight. Your body convulsed as pleasure consumed you and as each additional pump stole your breath. Your eyes fluttered open to see your god still hovering above you, giving you everything.

But, it was his turn now.

“Fill me,” you muttered weakly drunk on pleasure.

“W-What?” Rosinante’s eyes widened and his hips stuttered at your words.

Freeing your hands, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You dragged him down pecking his lips. “I want to feel you, Rosi,” you whispered.

His cock twitched inside of you.

“Please,” you begged softly. You arched your back, trying to take him deeper. Your hands glided down his back, pressing into his chest. Your hands roamed touching his scars, the ones you had memorized only moments ago. Your thumb grazed over his nipple, making him hiss. You nibbled on his ear, “Fill me, Rosi.”

His jaw clenched. He kissed you heatedly, pushing his tongue inside to re-explore your mouth. His large hands grabbed your hips, most likely bruising them in the process. But, you didn’t mind. He guided your hips, matching his new pace with more vigor and unrestraint. You moaned, drawing your nails down his chest.

A mere taste of this side of him was addicting. He could be loving, but he could be a monster. A monster you wished to learn in full some day.

Abandoning all his resolve, he pumped wildly into you. He couldn’t help it. Your words let a fire inside of him, and he had been holding back for so long. He muttered out an apology, afraid he might be hurting you. Yet, you took it all. You smiled up at him as he used you.

“Please, Rosi, I want to feel you,” you moaned.

He shuddered. Fuck, how could someone so sweet be so sinful? With a few more deep thrusts, he came, moaning out your name. He slowed down his pace until he buried himself deep within you, coating your walls.

Just like you asked.

Taking a second, you both stared at each other sweaty and out of breath. Rosinante carefully removed himself, and you squirmed at the abrupt emptiness. He rolled off of you, flopping onto the bed. But, he snatched you up, bringing you with him. You yelped, surprised by it. He settled you onto his chest, and your shock vanished. Sigh deeply, you nuzzled into his chest savoring this moment. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, listening to how his heartbeat slowly evened out. His fingers soon skimmed up and down along your spine.

It was peaceful, it was heavenly.

You each shared one thought: mine. Each of you unbeknownst to the other swore the same vow, to always make sure the other smiled and is to be loved for eternity. Perhaps, later down the road, such vows will be spoken aloud. But for now, you kept these secret promises to both of your chests.

Unfortunately, serenity was short lived for you. A thought, a more drastic one, occurred to you. Lifting your head, you nervously said, “Rosi? I - I think there’s still one thing we should at least talk about.”

He hummed, peering down at you.

“… like how are we going to tell the others? Especially Law?”

Rosinante flinched. He sighed heavily. His arms wrapped around you, firmly drawing your head back down. “We can worry about that later, I just want to stay right here a bit longer.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. You buried your head back into his chest whispering, “Ok.”

Your eyes spotted a scar near your face, specifically the one by his heart. You began to trace over it, memorized by the feeling and knowing you alone could do this.

“I like them,” you admitted quietly.

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “It means you survived and you’re here.”

With me.

He gave you a gentle squeeze. His lips brushed over your hair, kissing the top of your head. “And I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Closing your eyes, you smiled and kissed his scar. “Good.”

*****

“Law, please!”

Law huffed as Evelyn tugged on the back of his shirt. She had called him after his shift, asking him to come over. He wanted to go home, and into his bed, but she kept insisting. He agreed, however, as time dragged on doing little to nothing at her home, he decided to leave.

And for some reason, she decided to join him.

She begged the whole time to turn the car around, to go somewhere else, but he kept on driving home. He didn’t care, she could catch a ride back to her own home. Once parked, Law hopped out of his car, marching up the driveway with her bizarrely pleading.

“Look, I’m tired and …,” he paused, spotting a familiar car. One he didn’t see at her home, but oddly was parked here. “Why is she here?”

Eve flinched.

Law peered over his shoulder, staring down at her. But, she avoided his piercing gaze. He glared at her obvious guilty expression. She knew something. “What do you know?”

She blurted out, “Nothing!”

He tsked, “Lair.”

Law shook off her grasp then opened the front door. Stepping in, Eve quickly darted around trying to push on his chest but to no avail. Law walked further into the home. He didn’t see anyone, and nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Where …,” his voice trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes instantly spotted something on the floor: a shirt and bra.

Eve whipped her head around. Her eyes widened at the pair of clothing, both shocked and happy for you.

Law’s face, however, scrunched up in disgust at the thought of what his dad had been doing. He huffed, clicking his tongue, “Idiots better not have done anything in the kitchen.”

Scanning the floor, he luckily couldn’t find any pants which brought some relief. Sighing, he spun around, heading back towards the front door.

Eve blinked, “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Do you want to stay and find them?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

She blushed, “Um, no … not really.”

“Figured, now let’s go.” He glanced back at her. “You can buy me dinner.”

She gasped, “I will not.”

“I’m driving, so either you stay here and find them or you pay.”

She pouted and grumbled, following after him. However, Evelyn sent you a kind thought as she left.

I’m happy for you.

[flowmorepump]

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Considerations for Propeller Pumps Selection

Here are a few key things to keep in mind when searching for a propeller pump.

●     Rate of flow

How much liquid is to flow through the pump is measured in gallons per minute (GPM). The set pump limit and the flow rate should line up for quicker working.

●     The weight

The pump's required pressure, expressed in bars or psi, per unit area.

●     The head

Liquid elevation is caused by the pull channel. You can measure length in meters and feet.

●     Head of Net Positive Attractions (NPAH):

It is what separates the fume pressure heads from the pump's channel. NPAH decides to prevent pump cavitation issues.

Seek for characteristics that are valuable to you.

Attention should be given to a pump's characteristics. These characteristics may have an impact on the pump's operation, effectiveness, and user-friendliness. 

[honeytonedhottie]

getting it together⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍡

it feels GOOD to have all ur assignments done. to actively pursue ur dreams and goals. to be consistent and in turn -> see results. it feels good to give meaning to ur time and experience sustained satisfaction. this post will give an overview/guide of the BASICS of getting it together. that way whenever u get off track (cuz we're all human) u can easily reference this and get it TOGETHER.

SLEEP SCHEDULE - how does ur sleep schedule look? is it all over the place? fix it. the plan is to get between the range of 8-10 hours of sleep every single night (yes even on the weekends) and to wake up no later than 8 in the morning.

i recommend formulating a "get ready for bed" routine. mine is set with a soothing playlist, a cup of tea, and copious time for self care and meditating on my manifestations. ur night time routine is customizable to YOU, however the goal is to get away from screens or anything that'll tempt you to stay up at unhealthy hours.

THE MORNING ROUTINE - i think that the most influential and important time of the day is the morning. bcuz for me that sets the mood of my whole entire day, so i take my mornings SERIOUSLY and i think you should too.

for me in the morning, i do a light pilates workout/stretch to get my blood pumping, and i feel like it gives me such a boost of energy and sets the mood for the whole day so if u haven't tried i rly recommend working out in the morning. however since this post is for when you've gotten off track start SMALL. a short 5-10 minute stretch or pilates routine is more than enough.

THE IMPORTANCE OF GETTING READY - and i'll STAND ON THIS. even if ur not going anywhere at all that day, make an effort to get ready. make casual glamor a HABIT. getting ready is like, the best part of my day. its so therapeutic, something about the meticulous attention and the amount of time that i pour into myself it feels AMAZING. when u look good -> you feel good

A TO DO LIST - plan out ur week, plan out ur day, ur month. make a super cute calendar or agenda so that way you can get ur tasks done. im someone who needs super detailed instructions of what TO do, so when ik what im supposed to do i can get it done and i can get it done well. and instead of thinking of it as a to-do list, think of it as like a quest or something. tasks that u need to do and then -> you get something in return

ik it sounds rly dumb but sometimes when theres a mundane task that i know i must do, i imagine that im like a SIMS character who has no choice. or i imagine myself as a video game character who is doing it as a task cuz its part of the game. the point of me sharing that hot tip is to make it FUN for yourself. give urself something to look forward to afterwards too. like an episode of ur favorite drama, or a sweet treat.

CLEAN UP - a cluttered space = a cluttered mind. take 20 minutes aside everyday to tidy up so that then u can avoid the day-long cleaning on the weekend and actually enjoy it. when ur space is neat and organized, so is ur mind and it translates to how u view/respect urself. u show that you respect urself when u dwell in a place that it is neat and tidy.

PROPEL YOURSELF - when i've been rotting for a couple days, my go-to routine to propel myself back into my usual swing is : shower (an everything shower is a bit ambitious so go for it if u want) -> drink a COLDDD large glass of water -> do the process of getting ready and then do at least 3 tasks and 2 smaller tasks)

[pumpssupplier]

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[fanaticsnail]

Possessive

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,900+

Synopsis: Rob Lucci was obsessed with you the moment the inner beast caught your scent in Galley-La. Now all alone after trailing you for a month, he finally manages to catch you and make his desires known.

Themes: yandere!rob lucci x gn!reader, yandere, dub con, mentions of beast (leopard), half-shifted lucci, feral lucci, hunting, tracking, nudity mentioned (reader and lucci), kisses, confessions of love, biting, licking, marking, leaning into a little bit of monster-loving, sfw - no smut, I think hybrid au? Hybrid nature, mentions of 'mate'.

Edit: shifter Rob Lucci, not hybrid 🖤. Thank you anon!

Notes: Yandere Rob Lucci has been on my mind lately. He needed to get out.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita @sunflowersatori @extremely-ashtridic

His eyes snapped shut as a deep shudder coursed through his body, tingles shooting sparks of ignition down his spine and up to his head. He parted his lips and inhaled a sharp, hissed breath as his canines extended, his eyes reopening and slitted pupils expanded to eclipse his irises with a feral animosity. Your sweet scent swelled his heart, his lungs ignited as his blood began to pump at the thought of the hunt recommencing. 

It had been months of withholding you from his thoughts, pushing his urges for you down as he focussed on his missions and orders granted to him from Cipher Pol. After finally being granted a small reprieve between assignments, he allowed himself the luxury of beginning his pursuit of your trail once more. 

He left Hattori behind at his base, truly not desiring the pigeon to witness his carnal desires overcome his usual stoic and cold nature. Never truly giving into his Zoan Devil-Fruit, he usually has the beast lingering and lurking beneath the surface. In truth, he had never truly desired to give in to the animal nature, desiring to remain cool and level headed in his ruthless brutality.

Until that one time your sweet scent shot through his nose and ignited his feral need to state a claim for another being. 

Meeting you and the rest of your crew at Galley-La, he was struck by your appearance and that gentle laugh you offered the sniper, Usopp, when he recounted a tale of his youth at Syrup Village. Everything seemed to slow in motion, his heavy breathing and dilated pupils were the only sounds within the crowd as he lay struck and fixated on every movement. 

He was struck dumb by your laugh, the smile held him hostage as it softly spread up your lips and painted your cheeks with your joy. It almost made him wish to fling his plans of betrayal to the wind and sink his claws and teeth into you and hold you close. His needs tugged at his heart, his instincts and animalistic nature keening and screaming at him to give in and claim you as his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and committed your fragrance to memory.

The taste of your skin on the wind propelled him to drive harder, push his body further, and fully give in to his cravings for you as he felt his skin shift and split to make way for fur and claws. Rolling his shoulders back, the muscles compacted first before straining to enlarge with his beastial form. 

His legs picked up as the wind brushed past his face with quickened pace. Each stride had his blood boiling, his heart soaring at the knowledge that you were getting closer and closer with each feral leap and spring he made. Another factor he took into consideration was ensuring you were far enough from your crew to not call for help. The scent of the Straw-Hats were no longer lingering near you, and he was desperate in wanting to claim you as his all alone.

Slowing to a soft prowl, his eyes finally met with your form. Stooping low, you filled up several cantinas of river water and placed them within a wicker basket to return to your crew. He inhaled deeply to catch your sweet scent on the wind, his purred growl exiting his lips with a lengthy exhale to process it. 

Head snapping upwards, you attempt to locate the source of the guttural sound. The small twitch has Lucci’s stomach coil tightly and jaw falling slack at the sight. You were just a meek little thing. So defenseless and unprotected. 

As you return to your duties of filling up the final cantina for your crew, he watches as you take a moment to look around for any danger before stripping yourself down to your undergarments and retracting your towel from the basket beneath the water containers. His breath hitches as you strip yourself bare and slip into the reeds, all exposed for him and relaxed beneath the sun. 

Laying flat on your back and remaining buoyant and floating in the freshwater, he remained helpless and observant in knowing you had stretched far from his reach at this moment. His devil-fruit had claimed his ability to swim, but his need and desire for you only grew the moment your warm flesh lay bare before him. 

He made himself small, lowering himself to the ground and his claws dug into the ground the longer you eluded him. If you would venture closer to the bay, he could easily capture you in his clutches and tug you away from the shore. 

Lucci was a patient man, his work undercover in Galley-La for five long years was a sentiment to his persistence and perseverance. His body began to slowly rock from side to side, pacing as his muscular shoulders rolled with each crouched motion as he lay fixed on your form. Nothing could break him away from this concentration, you were the only thought occupying his mind. 

The moment your hand brushes with the side of the floral riverbank, Lucci pounces. His half-shifted body springs forward, capturing you from the water and tugging you towards the ground cover of underbush. His hand finds your lips, clapping his palm over them to stifle your muffled scream. 

The panic is written on your face as Lucci cages you beneath him, ensuring your legs remain well hidden in the shrubbery by tucking them beneath his thighs and wrapping his patchy tail around them. His dangerous, golden eyes beam down at you, his canines extended and his muzzle-like jowls pull back to reveal his pointed teeth to you. 

Fear tainted your scent, the air tasting bitter and tart mixing with your natural sweetness the longer his beastial form pinned you beneath him. He could see in your eyes, and feel the vibrations of your whimper beneath his palm, that you expected to die at this very moment. He leaned down further, hovering his open mouth over your jugular and feeling your throat gulp back and stifle your shock. 

Clamping your eyes shut, all of your thoughts are on your crew. You were foolish to assume you could ever have a moment of peace while traveling with the Straw-Hats. Thinking you could indulge in your desires for a short dip in a warm ravine, you truly had no idea that your day would end like this. 

The sworn enemy of your captain, a dangerous Zoan-Fruit user taking shape in his leopard half-shifted form and caging you beneath him. His breath felt hot on your neck, and his teeth threatened to puncture the skin and claim your life as his trophy. As you prepared yourself for your final moments alive, you furrowed your brows and reopened your shocked eyes.

A coarse tongue lolled out and grazed your throat with a slow and deliberate flicker. You gulp back your shock as another intentional stripe was made against your pulse, his teeth now nuzzling you with his snout and huffing your flesh like an addictive fragrance. Your body shook in shock as he pressed more of his body against yours, his radiant heat keeping you warm as he licked off the dewed droplets of water from your skin. 

The clawed hand began to caress your cheeks beneath his grip on your lips, his tongue and teeth continuing to grind against your pulse and taste your flesh. Your body responded to him by arching your back and betraying any thoughts of attacking him as he savored your flavor with a purred hum. You bit back a gasp as his teeth begin to mouth at the sensitive point beneath your ear, gently biting and marking you as you lay captured beneath him.

“Finally alone,” he purred against your skin, nuzzling his muzzle against your skin, “Finally within my clutches.” He licked a long stripe up to your chin and flicked his coarse tongue over it. You shudder, shivering as you unintentionally hide your body beneath the warmth of his larger frame. You round your eyes, looking up at his face as he hovers over your own. 

His eyes hold a possessive and captivating aura within them, your breath stolen from you as his human form begins to return to his features. His eyes remain slitted and blown with desire, but his body falls back to the form you are more familiar with. Slowly removing his hand from your lips, his gaze focuses on the way they part and gasp for air beneath him. Each soft inhale had a whimpered exhale, your fear still evident in your face as his bare skin warms your own beneath him. 

“If you are going to kill me, kill me, Rob Lucci,” you whisper, darting your eyes between his and hardening your resolve. His chest rumbles with a growling purr as he rests his elbows by your chest and slowly slots his arms beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Kill you?” he whispers, hovering his lips over yours and breathing in your air, “Whatever drew you to that conclusion?” He captured your lips beneath his in an open and possessive kiss, stealing a moan from you as he pressed his body flush with yours. The scrape from his cropped beard over your chin tickled against your flesh as he parted his lips and hummed into yours. 

Blinking back your shock, you apprehensively hook your arms over his shoulders and hold him against you as you return the desperate and feverish kiss with a sweetness and timidity he was not expecting. The softer you returned his kiss, the more brutal he pressed his lips and tongue into you. If you attempted to retract from his lips, he simply arched his back down into you and pressed his entire mass flush against you. 

The fact that you were both naked beneath the foliage cover had you feeling more anxious and concerned about being found. For Lucci, it felt as natural to him as sitting in the sun and enjoying it's warmth.

He enjoyed your touch so much so that it came to him like a breathy release of built up tension. His lips continued to mouth at you, his tongue caressing and grinding against yours as he claimed your desires and ignited his own desperation with each motion. 

Finally pulling away from your lips, his eyes grew half-lidded and blown as he looked to the saliva connecting your parted lips to his with lust written in his blown pupils. He shuddered out a low and powerful groan as he looked to where his lips, tongue and teeth marked over your neck while in his beastial form. 

“Mine,” he uttered darkly, slowly pressing his lips against your neck and holding them firmly against your skin, “Only mine.” You gulped, blinking back your shock as he continued to ravish you beneath the shrubbery. His lips felt desperate and warm, his voice now chirping and chittering as he happily lapped at your bruising and made them deeper in hue and rise higher in swollen texture. 

The beast within him was chanting a single word alongside your name with glee, enjoying how your arms continue to hold him against you softly. Purring against you, he finally vocalized the word with a possessive growl against your skin.

“My mate,” he breathed out through his nose, lips continuing to press against your pulse as you freeze up beneath him, “All Zoan-Fruit users have one, and you?” he pulled away, hovering his face over yours with his eyes darkening, “Oh you, sweet thing.” 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he cooed and purred down at you while his eyes remained feral and possessive. Your own eyes widened as he uttered two words that would change your fate forever. The two words that had you screaming internally to flee and return to your captain, but your heart swelling and yearning to make those words true. He spoke them with such sincerity, you almost swooned at his immediacy. 

“You’re mine.” 

[wrthzell]

hellooo! i haven't requested anything for a WHILE but your latest work of m!reader x vander was so cute so i got a little idea.

LET'S JUST IMAGINE (😭😭) that vander survives, but instead of him, the one who died THAT day was his fiancé/husband. so now, he's not warwick but his husband is.

u see the reunion inside the mines, how would it be if his husband on warwick form recognized him? and how would he react to seeing him like that?

if u liked the request let me know bc i may have a little idea of a continuation for this one where everyone gets a happy ending lol 🫡

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. — (Vander X Warwick!Male Reader).

Note: Hi! That's actually such an interesting switch! Ended up very angsty and took a while to finish since end of year has everyone very busy. It was fun to write, thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Vander's husband was accidentally a victim during Silco's revenge plot. After many years, he returns to his home—Vander—but with drastic changes.

Warnings: Spoilers, don't read unless you've watched Arcane. Potentially triggering content that briefly mentions a fight and injuries.

Key: (Y/n) — Your name. | (H/c) — Your hair colour. | (E/c) — Your eye colour.

Red obscures (Y/n)’s vision, all objects but a mere shadowy silhouette in a maroon background. The sounds are distorted, muffled as if the creature was submerged inside a liquid even as the putrid air scorches his lungs and burns inside him along with his blood. Faint memories fade in and out of his consciousness like a detuned radio switching between frequencies, the humming of the static and the violent flashes of noise dulled out by the words that cut through it.

Powder’s eyes adjust the settings, keeping the radio tuned at the right frequency and letting the memories be coherent and loud for longer. The red fades, white seeps through, and suddenly he sees the little girl before him, shining like the sun. He opens his mouth, strange even to himself, and lets the sound out of his throat. “Powder.”

A rough, calloused hand presses against his shoulder in a gentle gesture of affection as he watches the children run around chasing each other. Tousled blue hair comes in his direction, Powder’s eyes closed as the girl giggles and holds out another one of her recent contraptions in her tiny hands. Her eyes were open, and the sweet look on them brought a pleasant sensation of joy. The hand squeezes his shoulder. Vander. Vander. The bar. The mines. Vander.

Claws scratch against dirt and filthy pavements, and the creature desperately propels itself forward as the memories fade away. His feet ache, the static gradually returns, and his vision fogs. There's nothing left once he reaches the mines. Nothingness gnaws at his mind, and the smell of soot and ash throws him back into the liquid; the mines brighten up with his movements, but he is blind to the light. (Y/n) stays quiet, no longer searching, just waiting. What he's waiting for, he doesn't know.

Something does come eventually, metallic footsteps and mumbling voices that send a sharp ringing to his head and urge him to attack whatever has come to threaten him. His gut screams at him to move, and he can't hold out any longer; as the sounds grow louder, he gives in to instinct.

Blood rushes to his head, a mechanical click of weapons echoes in the mines, and he feels a surge of vicious adrenaline pumping along with the mixture of chemicals inside him. Dark silhouettes appear, bracing themselves for confrontation and raising their guards; one stands out, a hulking figure—compared to the others—that stands in front with its fists raised.

(Y/n) lunges at it, sharp teeth ready to maul the shadow and tear it into pieces. He knocks them to the ground, claw grazing their left cheek as he slams his hand on the side of their head. The black blur stays still, eyes boring into the creature's mismatched ones.

Greyish blue overwhelms the crimson and the darkness, and as the man’s mouth opens, his voice pierces its way directly into his ears. “(Y/n)... What happened to you?”

It’s unlike Powder’s gentle tuning; his is a harsh decentering force that rips him away from his current reality and thrusts him into the past and the present at the same time. He shudders, mind spinning endlessly with recognition and horror freezing him at where he stands and paralysing his every limb to complete inertia. If he once was submerged in liquid, this liquid has now been turned solid and started to form cracks at its surface.

Five seconds in stillness pass before the creature staggers away, its body swaying side to side as it loses its balance. The pressure in his brain grows stronger as the static melts away and leaves clarity in its wake; the memories surge in a blaring stream, and this time, they stay. (Y/n) blinks twice—vision finally clearing up—and looks at the man in front of him.

“Vander.”

The lights flickered with each step he took and white spots danced in his vision. (Y/n)’s head throbbed, his heart ached, and suddenly it wasn’t just dirt entering his lungs but burning ash as Vander gawked at him—eyes wide, desperate. He stands amid fire; wreckage falls all around him, threatening to crush him and end his life at any moment. His body is much too heavy to move, and a strange fluorescent liquid leaks out of his eyes and ears.

After a long beat of silence, he felt something wet staining his hand, which he now realised had been firmly pressed against the centre of his stomach. He falls. His head hits the floor first, sending a muffled thud from his ear to his eye. The fire crackles around him, cradling him to sleep as the screams vanish bit by bit and the image of Vander dissolves like dust in the wind.

A contrite silence lingers in the mines; his senses return at the same time his memories settle in. No more switching between frequencies, but stuck in the appropriate frequency at which he can remember what was heard and still hear what is being said. Everything breaks completely, and he falls to his knees.

“(Y/n).” Vander calls, worriedly rushing to hold his lover's disfigured face in his hands. There's a rush of tenderness and longing coursing through his veins; he is overwhelmed both by the joy of reunion and by the grief of what was lost.

Darkness shrouds them like a warm cloak, hiding the two men from sight. (Y/n) crawls closer to the other man, his broad figure curling on itself to be as small as possible and claws meekly laying stagnant at the sides of the men he loves. The two hold each other, hearing the sound of their hearts beating. They are alive, and for once in a long time, they are home.

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part One

NFL Bucky x reader au

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

A/N: I only have one more chapter of Invisible to post so ima get this new series out there. I plan to alternate with this one and Say Don Go! Also im Canadian, ive never watched football in my life before Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce so bare with me, Im a hockey girl 😇🤣

ALSO WOW another ts inspired fic what are the odds lmaoooo

------

The stadium buzzed with energy, every seat packed with fans decked out in the team’s deep blue and silver. Flags waved, chants echoed, and the floodlights bathed the field in an electric glow. The scoreboard flashed 20-24. Fourth quarter. Six seconds left on the clock.

Bucky Barnes stood on the field, his cleats dug into the turf as his breath came in steady bursts. His number 17 jersey clung to him, streaked with sweat and dirt, but his focus was absolute. Across from him, defenders crouched low, their eyes locked on him. Everyone in the stadium knew where the ball was going. The golden boy, the clutch player, the one who could pull miracles out of thin air.

At the line of scrimmage, Steve Rogers—number 18, the quarterback—barked out commands, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “Green 18! Green 18! Set!” His hand hovered under center, waiting for the snap.

Next to Steve, Sam Wilson—number 78, the running back—grinned as he looked to his left. “Hope you’re ready to make me look good, Barnes,” Sam called to Bucky, his voice tinged with a mix of adrenaline and humor.

Bucky smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “Always am, Wilson. Try to keep up.”

The ball snapped.

Time slowed, the roar of the stadium dimming to a dull hum in Bucky’s ears. He exploded off the line of scrimmage, his legs pumping as he darted past the first defender. His route was a perfectly calculated arc, his sharp cut leaving his opponent scrambling in his wake.

Steve dropped back, his eyes scanning the field, calm and composed as chaos erupted around him. The offensive line was holding—barely. Sam sprinted out to the right, dragging a defender with him and creating just enough space for Bucky to hit his mark.

“Buck!” Steve’s shout was clear, even over the thunder of the crowd. The ball left his hands in a perfect spiral, arcing high into the night.

Bucky didn’t slow. He kept his eyes on the ball as it sailed through the air, his body moving on instinct. A defender lunged at him, but he sidestepped, his cleats digging into the turf and propelling him forward. Another defender was closing in, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, his arms stretching to meet it. For a split second, the stadium seemed to hold its breath. His fingertips brushed the leather, and then the ball was in his hands, secured against his chest as he crashed to the ground in the end zone.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, the stands a blur of jumping fans and waving flags. Bucky pushed himself to his feet, the ball still clutched tightly in his hands. His teammates swarmed him, slapping his back and tugging at his jersey.

“Hell of a catch, Buck!” Steve shouted, pulling Bucky into a quick hug, his grin as wide as the field.

“Couldn’t have done it without that throw,” Bucky replied, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sam jogged over, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Man, you’re gonna make the rest of us look bad if you keep pulling off plays like that.”

“Just doing my job,” Bucky quipped, though his voice carried a hint of weariness.

The cameras swarmed, capturing every second of the celebration. Bucky turned, tossing the ball to an equipment manager as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He offered a practiced smile to the crowd, raising his hand in a quick wave. The adrenaline still pounded through his veins, but underneath it all, he felt…empty. Moments like this used to mean everything. Now, they were just another show.

----

You stood just behind the sidelines, your camera in hand as you captured the final seconds of the game. The stadium’s energy was almost overwhelming, but you kept your focus, snapping shot after shot as the ball spiraled through the air. The lens followed Bucky, capturing the moment his fingertips grazed the ball and the exact second he pulled it to his chest.

Your thumb hovered over the record button as he hit the ground in the end zone, the buzzer blaring through the stadium. The noise was deafening, but you barely noticed, too focused on capturing the raw emotion of the moment—his teammates rushing to him, the grin splitting Steve’s face, Sam throwing his hands in the air as he jogged over.

Through the lens, you could see every detail: the streaks of dirt on Bucky’s jersey, the intensity in his eyes, the way he stood a little apart from the celebration even as he was surrounded by his team. You lowered the camera for a moment, watching as he turned to wave at the crowd, that effortless smile on his face.

There was something surreal about seeing him like this, so different yet so familiar, especially after all these years. The golden boy of the NFL, the star of every highlight reel, and yet…still Bucky. You just wondered what he would think if he knew you were tasked with covering his team for the duration of the season.

-----

The press room buzzed with energy as reporters jostled for position, shoving microphones and cameras toward the front. Bucky sat at the table, effortlessly commanding the room. His jersey clung to him, still damp with sweat, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his easy smile lighting up the space.

“Bucky, talk us through that final play!” one reporter called out.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “It’s not just me. That was all teamwork. The guys up front gave me the space, and Stevie threw a perfect pass, I just had to do my part.”

“Just your part?” another reporter pressed. “That was your second game-winning catch this season and it just started! You’re making it look easy out there.”

“Well,” Bucky replied, flashing a quick grin, “it’s never easy, i’ve just got a great team behind me. We work hard for moments like that.”

More questions came, volleying back and forth. He answered them all with polished charm, his practiced media persona never faltering. But as the questions wore on, his gaze started to wander, skimming over the sea of faces and microphones. That’s when he saw you, his blue eyes did a double take before confusion and shock swam through them.

You were standing off to the side, not pushing to the front like the others. You weren’t yelling over the noise or angling for the best shot. You were just…there. Scribbling something into your notebook, head ducked slightly as if you wanted to disappear into the crowd.

Bucky froze for a fraction of a second, the polished grin faltering for the briefest moment before he caught himself. His heart stuttered in his chest, a wave of recognition crashing over him. He blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up. No way. It couldn’t be.

You were trying to stay out of the fray while still capturing the scene. Your notebook was a familiar weight in your hands, its pages filling with shorthand notes that you’d polish later. It was your way of staying grounded—your way of not staring too long at him.

The boy you’d grown up with. The boy who used to challenge you to races down your block, who teased you mercilessly, who knew all your secrets. Seeing him now, years later, as the NFL’s star receiver, felt surreal. He’d become everything the world expected him to be. And yet, in some strange way, he was still the same.

You ducked your head lower, scribbling furiously to avoid the wave of memories threatening to crash over you. Focus. Professional. Objective. That was your mantra when you’d taken this assignment. You hadn’t even known it would be his team until you arrived. Now, all you wanted was to finish your notes and leave to compose yourself fully before he could notice you.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the game he’d just played. He said your name softly, testing it on his lips. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. You didn’t react—too far away, too focused on your notes.

“Hey, Bucky!” another reporter called out. “What’s your mindset going into the rest of the season?”

He barely heard the question. His focus was entirely on you now, watching as you slipped your notebook into your bag and adjusted the strap over your shoulder. You were leaving.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled to the reporter, not bothering to look at them. “I need to…” He trailed off, standing abruptly.

The room went silent for a moment, the reporters exchanging confused glances. “Bucky, are you—?”

“Yeah, uh, excuse me,” he muttered, already moving. He left the table, ignoring the murmurs that followed as the cameras swung to track his movements.

His heart stuttered.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din. He blinked, half-convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. He tried again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

You didn’t look up.

----

The late summer air clung to your skin, thick and still, like it was trying to hold you in this moment forever. The roof beneath you was rough and familiar, each crack in the shingles a memory. Nights like this always felt infinite—just you and Bucky under the stars, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight, that comforting rhythm was broken.

You sat side by side, the glow of the streetlights catching in Bucky’s messy hair. He leaned back on his elbows, that cocky grin you knew so well plastered across his face. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “you wanna go to prom with me next year? You know, as friends or whatever.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, but it sounded hollow even to you. “Prom’s not for another year, Bucky. Don’t tell me you’re turning into a planner now.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, the grin widening, his confidence practically radiating. “I like to lock down the good ones early.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light shove, but your hand lingered on his arm for just a second longer than it should have. He felt it. He always felt it.

“Alright,” he said, his grin fading as he sat up straighter, his piercing blue eyes narrowing in concern. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird all night.”

Your fingers twisted together in your lap, your gaze dropping to the shingles. The words felt too heavy to say, but they burned in your chest. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

“I’m moving.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched between you like the whole world had opened up, and all you could do was stare into the void. When you finally looked at him, his expression was blank, unreadable. That cocky smile you’d always known so well—it was just gone.

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice low, almost like a challenge.

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “I wish I was.”

His brows furrowed, the disbelief quickly turning into something sharper. “Why?” he asked, leaning closer. “You don’t have to go. You’re almost eighteen—just stay.”

“Bucky—”

“No, listen to me,” he cut you off, his words coming fast now, his tone filled with something you rarely heard from him: fear. “You could stay here. My ma wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d love it. You could move into the basement. You practically live at my house anyway. No one would even notice. You don’t have to go.”

The desperation in his voice broke something in you. You had known it would hurt, but seeing him like this—Bucky, who was always so strong, so steady—was unbearable.

“I can’t stay,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?” His voice cracked as he sat up fully, his hands curling into fists against the roof. “Am I not enough for you to stay?” He knew he was being selfish but he was so blind sided he couldn't help it.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. Your breath caught, and you had to blink hard to keep your vision from blurring. “Fuck, Bucky,” you whispered. “Of course, you’re enough. You’re my best friend. You’re everything. But my mom…” Your voice broke, and you had to take a deep breath before continuing. “She’s finally leaving him. Bucky, we’re finally getting out.”

His jaw clenched, and his chest rose and fell unevenly as he processed your words. His hands gripped the edge of the roof like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Your mom…” he started, his voice trailing off. Of course, he was happy for her. He knew what it had taken for her to finally leave that asshole. He’d seen the bruises you never talked about, the way your voice would falter when you mentioned home. Of course, he understood.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. She was taking you away from him, and he couldn’t stand it. "What about school? We have one more year left."

"They have schools everywhere Buck..." Your voice was soft and quiet.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The night stretched on, heavy and endless. You thought he might fight you on it again, throw out another plan, another reason for you to stay. But instead, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Well,” he said, his voice sharp and hollow, “I guess this is it then.”

“Bucky, don’t do this,” you pleaded, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Please.”

He stood up slowly, brushing off his hands like he was trying to shake off the weight of your words. His expression was unreadable now, his eyes cold and distant in a way you’d never seen before.

“It was nice while it lasted,” he said, his voice clipped and emotionless. He paused at the edge of the roof, looking back at you one last time. “Hey, take care of yourself, alright?”

And then he climbed down the ladder, disappearing into the shadows below.

You didn’t call after him—you couldn’t. You just sat there on the roof, staring at the place where he’d been, your heart breaking under the weight of his absence. For the first time, the stars felt impossibly far away.

That was the last time you ever talked to Bucky Barnes.

----

You were halfway down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly in the empty space, when you heard him.

“Y/N!”

You froze, halfway down the hallway. The voice was unmistakable now—stronger, sharper, but undeniably his. Slowly, you turned, and there he was, jogging toward you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. His broad shoulders filled the space, but it was his eyes—wide and almost boyish—that sent your heart racing.

“Is this really you?” he asked, stopping just a few feet away. His chest rose and fell as if he’d just run the length of the field. His gaze swept over you, disbelief and something like relief flickering across his face.

You laughed nervously, a sound that came out more like a breathless exhale. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

Bucky’s lips parted in a huff of incredulous laughter. “Are you kidding? I could find you in any room.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Before you could respond, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world fell away—the noise, the cameras, the years. It was just Bucky, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. It was like you were kids again, sitting on rooftops and talking about everything under the stars. Holding you in a way where you finally felt safe like nothing or no one could hurt you because you knew these arm’s wouldn’t.

“Holy shit,” he muttered into your hair. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you—I’m just…wow.”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m here to cover the team for the season.” You held up your press badge, a sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “Didn’t realize I’d be covering you.”

Bucky barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fate, huh? Guess it wasn’t done with us yet.”

You both stood there for a moment, the hallway around you seeming to blur. His thumb brushed against your arm absently, like he was reassuring himself you were real. Finally, he stepped back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve got about a thousand questions,” he said, tilting his head. “But I guess we’ve got the whole season to catch up, right?”

“Right,” you replied, the warmth in his eyes making it impossible to think straight. “The whole season.”

[mbari-blog]

Meet the salp chain

Salps are gelatinous animals that live in the open ocean, but are closely related to the "sea squirts" (tunicates) seen in tidepools. Colonial salps often form long chains, with new animals budding off from others in the chain. They can reach up to 15m long and are one of the fastest-growing animals on the planet. Salps rhythmically contract their bodies to propel themselves through the ocean and pump water through their guts, filtering out microscopic algae and other tiny organisms for food. They play an essential role in mitigating climate change as their fecal pellets are full of carbon and sink rapidly to the sea floor, sequestering that carbon for decades or even centuries to come.

The salp chain  you see here is the rarely observed, Helicosalpa virgula. It was captured on camera by our remotely operated vehicle (ROV) Doc Ricketts 282 meters (925 feet) deep.