#and then i was devastated and had to google one-handed

[advestager]

currently obsessed with a song in italian one in spanish one in korean/english and two in japanese so you can probably imagine the appalling linguistic hodgepodge going on in my brain right now

[thewailingbells]

Hello~~

I discovered your profile not long ago (literally yesterday) and I loved your writing. You made me more in love with Thomas Hewitt than I already am!!!

Could we have a fic where Thomas and S/O are already lovers but for some reason S/O has to leave or travel to another city for a few months and this leaves Thomas completely devastated and stressed. Even Luda Mae and Hoyt notice the change in his behavior while s/o is away and when s/o finally returns home,she has to find some way to de-stress Thomas who is dying of missing her. 😞 (No need to write NSFW if you feel uncomfortable!!!!)

(English isn't my first language so I literally translated this whole thing on google... lmao.)

Always Forever

AN: AFAB Reader. This is my first time writing smut! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, nudity, fingering, rough sex, piv, creampie, general nsfw things.

“Thomas, you know I have to go.”

Your boyfriend was standing behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, and his head buried into your shoulder. Your words only made him squeeze you tighter.

“Tommy, I need to go see my family. They miss me, and I promised I would visit them for the week! I wanted you to come with me; you know that, but Hoyt said no.

He sighed, knowing you were right. His uncle needed him to stay home and take care of the house. God knows what would happen if Tommy wasn’t around.

Since you started dating him, there hasn’t been a day when you two were apart. Thomas didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. He spent the rest of your time together, following you around as you packed your bags. Noon came quicker than you expected, signaling it was time for you to go.

You said your goodbyes to Luda, Hoyt, and Charlie as you walked out the door. Tommy was already outside, having carried your bags to the car. Once all of your luggage was neatly packed up, you smiled at him. You pulled him into a tight hug before kissing him. “I love you. I promise I’ll be back.”

You got inside your car and smiled at him. With that, you drove off. Tommy waited until your car was nowhere in sight to go back into the house.

“Tommy,” Hoyt said, “How’s it feel now that your bitch is gone?”

Thomas ignored his words and stomped down into the basement. He could hear the sound of bickering between Hoyt and Luda Mae, most likely due to Hoyt’s crass language.

Tommy wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had been in the basement. He just kept chopping and chopping and chopping the animal meat laid in front of him. He had been cutting meat for years now, to the point where he didn’t even have to think about it.

“Tommy! Tommy! Get up here now,” Luda Mae shouted. His mother’s voice awoke him from his thoughts. He walked up the stairs. Luda Mae looked at her boy with sad eyes. “Tommy. You’ve been in the basement for six hours. It’s time to stop now, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you some food and water.”

The next few days, Thomas would go to work at the crack of dawn and come home hours after the sun had set. When he came home, he would wait by the door for a few moments. He thought that maybe you would have come back early, but you didn’t.

The week had gone by. You had promised him you would be back home on Monday by one o’clock in the afternoon. Thomas believed you. Why wouldn’t he? However, it became harder and harder to believe you as the hours on the clock ticked by. Tommy sat by the front door. Watching. Waiting.

Hoyt sighed and came up behind Tommy. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “Boy, I don’t know how to tell ya this, but I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Thomas’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head. You were coming back. He knew it.

“Thomas, it’s six o’clock. She said she'd be home by one. I don’t see her anywhere. Do you?”

Tommy placed his head in his hands. He wished Hoyt wouldn’t say things like that. Things that were not true. But then again, Tommy had never been the brightest. Maybe you never loved him. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity for you to escape from him. When Thomas was about to spiral into distress, he heard a car door slamming.

Thomas jumped out of his chair and rushed to the door. He opened it with such force that it nearly flew off the hinges. That’s when he saw it—your car in the driveway. He ran towards it.

You quickly stepped out of your car, beautiful as ever. You smiled when you saw him. “Tommy! I’m so sorry I’m late. I was-” Your sentence was cut off when Thomas picked you up off the ground and pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. You tried to wiggle out, worrying his grip was too tight, but you gave into the hug and snuggled against him. You knew he needed this.

Eventually, he put you down on the ground. “Tommy, I told you I would be back. I’d never leave you. I love you so much. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

He didn’t say anything. He leaned down and kissed you. It was rough and passionate. Before it escalated, he threw you over his shoulder and brought you inside.

Hoyt smiled at the sight of you. “Well, would you look at that? She came back! Luda was right,” he muttered to himself.

Thomas brought you upstairs to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed and quickly pinned you down. Your faces were inches away from each other. The room was silent except for the sounds of both of you panting.

Tommy gently cupped your breast. He looked at you with pleading eyes.

You nodded. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want to me, Tommy.”

He immediately got to work, his movements faster than usual. Normally, he would take his time with you. Not today, though.

He roughly grabbed the waist of your pants and yanked them down. You let out a squeak in surprise. He grabbed both of your wrists in one of his large hands, keeping them suspended above your head. He balled your t-shirt up in one of his fists before forcefully tugging it up. He released his grip, allowing you to slide it off.

Tommy let out a desperate whine at the sight of your body. You were dressed in white lace lingerie. It was nothing much; it was very simplistic, looking like it could pass for a normal pair of undergarments. Despite that, Tommy nearly came in his pants at the sight of you.

He leaned down and nestled his face in the crook of your neck. He aligned his clothed cock with your clothed pussy. He began to desperately hump you. Tommy felt shameful; you could tell by the way he hid his face. Never in his life had he been this desperate for anything. He wanted, no, he needed to be close to you in any way. He had to show you how much he loved you.

A breathy moan fell from your lips. “Tommy, Tommy, calm down. I can take care of you.” You began to sit up. He pushed the middle of your chest, causing you to fall back onto the bed. You sighed, knowing he wanted to do everything himself today.

He pulled your panties to the side, exposing your pussy. He ran his thick fingers up against your lips to feel your wetness. He roughly put one of his fingers inside of you, causing you to throw your head back and moan in pleasure. He would usually give you time to adjust to it, but not today. Today, he immediately shoved his second finger inside your hole as well. Your back arched as he roughly finger-fucked you harder than ever before. Tommy then put his thumb on your clit, gently circling it.

Once he felt your walls begin to stretch for him, he removed his fingers. You whined in annoyance. Thomas unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out. It was rock hard and dripping with precum. He aligned himself with your hole and then fully bottomed out in one swift movement.

You mewled in pleasure. “Tommy! Fuck, Tommy~”

He immediately began to roughly pound into you. The feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock drove him crazy. Your moans got louder and louder, not caring who heard them.

He reached down to toy with your clit, bringing you so close to the edge. You grabbed the blankets on the bed.

Tommy was so close. He needed to come so badly. You looked at him with lustful eyes. “I love you~ cum for me. Cum for me, Tommy.”

With one particular rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came. He let out a deep moan as his seed began to fill you up. Thomas nearly collapsed on top of you. He grabbed your waist and flipped you onto him, his cock still deep inside you. Your entire body was pressed tightly against him. He wrapped his hands around your smaller frame to keep you in place.

Once you had calmed down, you sighed contently. You reached up and pushed some of his hair out of his face. “I told you I would come back, didn’t I?”

[deadghosy]

How Slytherin boys react to sister! Reader dating:

Warning: boyfriend house not specific, google translated Italian, protective brothers & stalking

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

The Riddle Brothers

“WHAT??” Mattheo yells as Draco had told him that you were dating Someone. The thing was that you haven’t told him first.

Why didn’t you tell him..cause now he’s frowning and venting to the oldest riddle that’s reading a book.

“TOM! Our baby sister is dating someone, but she hasn’t said a single thing…I swear what if the guys bad..”

“We could easily kill him. So why worry brother?” Tom says looking up. But it was clear that Tom was mad that you haven’t told him. You always tell him things, so to the point you haven’t told him made him a “little” angry.

Mattheo and Tom looked at each other and nodded as they left the Slytherin common room.

You were walking with your boyfriend when all of a sudden you felt eye burning in the back of your head. You turn around and there you see only mattheo because of course Tom is invisible.

“Mattheo…why didnt you turn invisible when clearly she’s glaring at you.”

“Tom, stfu.”

Draco Malfoy

Ima make your boyfriend here as potter cause it’s definitely gonna be funny.

Straight up gets so dramatic to his knees, screaming for someone to kill him as he sees you dating his enemy. How could you betray him?! Your big brother is devastated

After dinner, he drags you to the common room and becomes a mother hen as he lectures you about how “terrible” pottah is.

“He’s a terrible person! And a Gryffindor. End of presentation…got any questions.” Draco says with a raised up brow

“Yeah, only one. Can I go to sleep now…”

Theodore Nott

IM SORRY BUT HE’S GONNA PULL OUT THE ITALIAN

“Mi stai spezzando il cuore qui sorellina... non puoi uscire finché non sono morto...” (you’re breaking my heart here lil sis you can’t date til I’m dead)

“ALLORA COME CAZZO USCIREI? SONO SOLO UN’ORA IN RITARDO DOPO DI TE?” (Then how the fuck would I date I’m only a hour late after you)

I feel like he would do the hand gesture, 🤌 yeahhhh…..

During the months he would try to give you the birds and the bees talk when you obviously know what it is, and you’re running away from him.

Of course he won’t stalk you, he’s too much of a good brother to do that to you. So you are lucky

But one word that your boyfriend is hurting you verbally, physically, or emotionally. He’s hurting him 10 times bad.

Lorenzo Berkshire

“I wanna meet him.”

“WHY YOU LOOKIN AT ME LIKE THAT?!.”

His soft face turned serious when you told him you’re dating someone. Because you thought Lorenzo would react happy for you.

He’s literally acting like a father as he has the boyfriend in front of him, wand in hand as his smile was tight. “So, I heard your dating my sister. Why?”

Pulls out the “why do you wanna date my daughter/sister” card😭😭

If the boyfriend passes, he’s welcome. If not, find a better boyfriend.

[httplilyyy]

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐎

pairing: alessia russo x reader

summary: alessia just couldn't contain herself, especially when you spoke in spanish

warnings: smut, swearing, suggestive themes, fingering (r giving), oral (r giving), overstimulation, thigh riding & a shit ton of neck kisses | minors dni

word count: 2.7k

a/n: a big thank you to @ohgrays for letting me use their prompt, i hope i did it justice! and the only word i know in spanish is hola so blame google translate for any of the mistakes :)

woso masterlist

The sound of a door slamming caused you to flinch in your spot. You stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the space where Alessia once stood. Sighing to yourself, you ran a hand through your hair.

Only up until recently had you and Alessia been arguing. After a devastating loss to the Lionesses in the world cup final, your girlfriend's sorrow was made by your victory.

Spain winning the world cup was only the start, soon the pressure of joining Arsenal joined the mix and added onto that, she lived with you.

You didn’t get to spend much time celebrating, instead it was full of arguments and fighting with your girlfriend. It all came into play when she dismissed your hug on the pitch and very quickly made its way back to your house.

Going from skipping meals and sleeping further away in your bed to staying over at a friend's place and ignoring each other completely.

The only times the two of you did talk, ended like this. Another fight. But this wasn't one you were going to let slide.

“Less, open the door.” You said, knocking on your bedroom door but you didn’t get an answer. “Less!”

“You’re everywhere! Jesus, I just want some space.” Alessia shouted as she opened the door, staring at you with anger.

“Oh, I'm everywhere? This is my house too, Alessia.” You scoffed, crossing your arms and looking down at her.

“So what? Fuck off to somewhere else.” Alessia replied, raising her hand up and gesturing to the rest of your house behind you.

“No, we’re talking this out.” You said, standing your ground.

“Absolutely not, now if you will please leave me alone, I’m going to go to Ella’s.” Alessia said, turning around to shut the door on your face.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” You muttered, holding the door open with one hand and walking into your bedroom.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Just leave me alone!” Alessia stressed, her hands tugging at her hair.

“Not until you tell me what I did to make you act like this. Quiero decir, mierda, qué te hice, eh?”

“You really wanna talk this out? Fine, you didn’t deserve to win the world cup!”

“That's what this is about? Fucking hell, Less. I mean what are you trying to say? Que te lo merecías más que yo? That’s low, Less, real fucking low.”

You stared at Alessia, chest heaving up and down, a little hurt that she could think, let alone say, something like that.

“There I said it, you can leave me alone now.” Alessia said, turning around to her wardrobe.

“No no no. No hemos terminado de hablar de esto.” You said, your accent slipping out more due to your anger. “Look at me.”

You stared at Alessia, waiting for her to turn around but she didn't. You moved from your spot and took a hold of her arm, forcing her to turn around and look you in the eye.

“I’m not done.” You whispered in a dangerously low tone.

“I-” Alessia started but before she could stop herself or even comprehend what she was doing, she grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.

You tried to pull away but she turned you around, pushing you against the wall, trapping your body with hers.

She tugged on your hair, her lips moving down to your jaw and trailing their way to your neck. She nipped and sucked on your pulse point causing breathy moans to escape your lips before she slowly pulled away.

“Leave me alone.” Alessia whispered against your lips, pushing you harshly into the wall.

“Wha-?” You were dumbfounded, completely shocked by Alessia’s behaviour.

“I told you I wanted space.” Alessia huffed, moving away from you.

“Pushing me up against a wall and kissing me is your idea of space?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow in question.

“No-”

“No?” You questioned, talking a step towards Alessia only for her to take one back

“I just got frustrated.” Alessia defended, continuing to walk back ‘til the backs of her legs came into contact with your bed.

“Sexually frustrated?” You teased, stopping a few centimetres away from her. “Do I turn you on, Alessia?

You tilted your head to the side, waiting for Alessia’s response but it never came.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” You said, leaning in so your mouth was beside her ear, “te excito, Alessia?”

Alessia let out a small whimper and if you weren't standing so close you wouldn't have heard it.

You leaned in to reconnect your lips once more. The anger and tension merged with Alessia’s desperation and passion perfectly, your lips moving cohesively.

The taste of your tongue was addicting and Alessia couldn’t get enough. She pulled you in, leading to the two of you falling onto your bed.

Placing an arm out to catch your fall, your lips separated causing you to pull back and look into the striker’s eyes. Manoeuvring around slightly, Alessia ended up leaning against the headboard with you sitting on top of her.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes, waiting for either of you to do something. The anticipation finally broke with Alessia’s move, and her hand moved to grab your shirt, pulling you closer. With your hand at her abdomen, Alessia moved her palm to the back of your neck.

As your lips moved desperately against each other, Alessia's hands trailed down to your waist, where she gripped tightly and pulled you towards her. Letting out a small groan against her mouth, you continued to rock your hips with Alessia’s guidance.

“Shit, Less.” You whispered, letting your head fall onto her shoulder.

“Am I making you feel good?” She questioned, increasing the pace of your hips.

You nodded against her, not being able to form words as you felt your stomach contract with each roll of your hips.

“Use your words baby.”

“Tan buena, mi amor. Asi- so good.”

“Fuck.” Alessia mumbled.

You started to place kisses at the base of Alessia’s neck causing her to tilt her head back, allowing you more access. Hungrily devouring at her neck, you were spurred on by the small whines that left her mouth.

"More." Alessia begged, hand tangling itself in your hair and pushing your face further into her neck, keeping a firm grip on you to ensure you didn't pull away.

Smiling ever so slightly, with one last rut of your hips the pleasure you were feeling all came down onto you like a tidal wave, crashing over you again and again.

You placed one last kiss to Alessia's neck before moving to be face to face. Resting your hands on her shoulders, Alessia kept hers on your waist. You trailed one hand up to her cheek, your thumb grazing over her features.

Alessia’s eyes met yours with a darkened intensity, your thumb tracing over her bottom lip. The blonde striker parted her lips ever so slightly allowing you to carefully slip your thumb between her lips.

You completed the action slowly, leaning forward to intensify the emotions. You watched on with a grin which slowly turned into a smirk, feeling the warmth of Alessia’s mouth around the pad of your thumb.

Your thumb left her mouth, and a new feeling was in the air. Whilst your thumb remained on Alessia’s bottom lip, you dragged it downward slowly.

With Alessia’s jaw in your hand, you took the silence to be an invitation. You tilted Alessia upward, leaning over just slightly to connect your lips. Although the kiss was perfect, the two of you couldn't help but want more out of it, aching and hungry.

With Alessia’s bottom lip latched in yours, you led the kiss, increasing the tension and emotions with every movement. Your other hand found itself tangled in her hair, tugging gently to pull a reaction out of her.

"Y/n, please." Alessia whimpered against your lips.

"Please what?" You wondered, pulling back from her slightly, a smirk tugging at your lips, "words, baby."

"Touch me. I want you so bad, please." She begged, bucking her hips up, desperate to find some friction.

"How do you want me?" You asked, voice slightly raspy with arousal.

"Fingers, mouth, anything. I just want you." Alessia was desperate at this point, her sexual frustration becoming too much to handle.

"How 'bout both?" You questioned as you trailed kisses down her body.

Lifting her shirt up, you pulled it off her body along with her bra. Your hands moved from Alessia’s waist to her stomach, to her ribs and then to her breasts. You internally beamed when you noticed that her nipples were hardening under your touch.

You leaned down and placed a kiss in the valley of Alessia’s breasts causing her to suck in a sharp breath as she waited to see what your next move would be. You distributed kisses along her neck and collarbone before Alessia finally felt your lips meet her nipple.

One hand lightly massaged her left breast whilst your mouth went to the other, alternating between the two. Alessia’s back arched at your touch as you continued your actions. You left marks everywhere on her chest as she held onto you, her nails digging onto any skin that she could find.

Slowly moving your hands from her breasts, they trailed down to her thighs. A loud gasp emits from her lips as you squeeze at her legs, slowly pulling down her shorts.

Your next kiss is on her inner thigh, not the teasing kind despite the placement. It's open mouthed and messy, your mouth trailing from the sensitive skin towards your much anticipated destination.

Your fingers drift down, fiddling with the hem of Alessia’s panties before teasing her from the outside. Your fingers lightly running over the underwear, a noticeable wet patch showing through the fabric.

Whines and begs slipped from Alessia’s mouth, pleas for you to touch her. But, you stop your movements, looking at her dead in the eyes.

"What do you want? Say it, use your words." You demand, watching Alessia so closely she could come just from your gaze.

"Please, y/n… I want you to touch me."

The satisfied smirk on your face made Alessia want to punch you, but her desperation overtook her urges.

"Where, bebé? Here? Or...” You slide your hand from her breats down to her pussy at an agonisingly slow but teasing pace, "here?"

Alessia whines at your words, nodding.

"Why are you nodding? I said to use your words." You repeated.

"You know what I want." Alessia moaned out.

You huffed but slowly slipped her undies off, watching as the wet material stuck to her pussy before sliding off completely. Moving yourself down, placing your head between her thighs.

You kissed Alessia’s clit, causing an erotic moan to leap from her swollen lips. Your tongue worked its usual magic; sucking, kissing, rolling- Alessia’s eyes began to water, the feeling of you inside her causing her build up to come much faster than usual.

The way you moved had her crying out into the air, begging for you to let her cum.

"What do you want?" You asked, using your hands to hold down her hips.

"Please, y/n! Shit, please let me cum." Alessia moaned, fingers tugging at the roots of your hair.

When you began to feel her clenching around your tongue, you picked up your pace, only stopping to whisper breathy praises into her, using your thumb to stimulate her clit.

"Y/n, I'm not gonna last long,” Alessia managed to get out, hands gripping onto anything they could find.

“Cum for me.” You said, and it wasn’t long before Alessia’s body was convulsing around your head, her legs shaking as you rode her through her orgasm.

You began to place gentle kisses on her clit but Alessia pushed you away, squirming as she tried to come down from her high.

“No, stop, I'm too sensitive.” Alessia mumbled, trying to pull you up so you were face to face.

“Okay, okay. Lo siento.” You said, kissing your way back up to Alessia’s face.

You propped yourself up with one arm, the other, brushing strands of hair out of Alessia’s face. Her neck, chest and inner thighs were covered in dark hickies, and you knew she would kill you for that tomorrow.

You watched as her breathing came back to normal, the striker staring at you through hooded eyes. Taking in her appearance, her eyes were dilated, her cheeks coated pink and her lips were swollen. But to you, she couldn't look any more beautiful. Especially in this blissed out state.

You distributed kisses along her neck and collarbone, ever so slightly moving your hand down her side and back to her clit. Alessia’s body jolted at your touch, the striker letting out a loud whine at the feeling.

“One more, just one more, mi amour. That’s all.” You said, kissing just below her ear.

Alessia’s fingers thread through your hair once again as she feels you run a thumb vertically all the way over her slick folds. Her eyes slammed closed and her head thumped back into the pillow as you slid a finger inside her.

Pulling your face up, Alessia kept her hands on your cheeks as the two of you kissed fervently. Biting on your lower lip, the blonde pulled away slightly, just so your noses were touching.

"Fuck that feels so good." Alessia moaned.

You chuckled as she kissed you, trying to conceal her moan when you added a second finger. Bucking her hips up into your hand, Alessia’s breathing quickly picked up in pace as the stimulation became greater.

A ripple of pleasure soared through Alessia’s body, making her tilt her head further back into the pillow. You curled your fingers and they hit a spot causing Alessia to elicit a loud and uncontrollable moan. You pulled them out and repeated the action again, continuously getting the same reaction.

Her moans continued to get louder and louder at the feeling of you and with every curl of your fingers Alessia thrusted her hips forward to meet you. Alessia felt incredible and the added sensation of your palm pressing against her clit was heavenly, causing her stomach muscles to contract and her legs begin to shake.

Her breaths began to become more uneven and shaky with each passing second. Her muscles tightening around your fingers as you push them into her over and over again. Moans and curse words tumbled from her lips as she was begging you not to stop.

One hand gripped your shoulder and her fingernails dug harshly into your back through your top whilst the other gripped the bed sheet beside her.

“Come on beautiful, cum for me.” You mumbled into her neck, nipping harshly against her pulse point.

Your encouragement seemed to be the only thing she needed to tip her over the edge as with a final curl of your fingers and a firm press of your thumb against her clit, she arched her back off the bed with her eyes screwed shut and her body shuddered as her orgasm washed over her.

“You okay?” You questioned, looking down at Alessia’s blissed out state.

“Yeah, just calming down.”

“Let me go get you some water.” You said, moving to get off her.

“No,” Alessia said quickly, reaching a hand out to grab yours, “just stay with me for a little bit.”

You gave her a small smile, moving to lay beside her. Once you were in a comfortable position, Alessia soon cuddled up into your side.

“M’sorry for lashing out earlier.” Alessia mumbled into your shoulder, her fingers playing with the hem of your top.

“It’s okay. But for next time d’you think we can talk it through? Instead of having sex to work things out?”

“Yeah, and I'm sorry I didn't mean it.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You smiled softly, gently massaging her scalp. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.6

Prompt: “It’s not my blood.”

Warnings: Implied death of children; angst angst angst.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: Daryl did not go in and murder children in this. I just want that to be clear. However, as per the episode we saw back in season 8, he did let the walkers in. So have some angst.

gif not mine - google

“Daryl! Daryl, are you okay?!” He stared off into nothing as you reached for him, never acknowledging you even as your hands clasped his face, his neck. You moved his vest aside, pulled his arms outward. “Are you hurt? There’s so much—”

“S’not my blood.” His monotonous utterance was quiet, displaced. He still wasn’t seeing you, seeing anyone. Chaos was running rampant around you, bullets and voices, bodies of the living and the dead.

“What?” You stepped back but kept your hands on his shoulders.

He cleared his throat. “S’not my blood.” His voice wavered, a tear clearing a path down his bloodied cheek.

Understanding finally took hold. He had finally cracked under the weight of his trauma. He had sought out vengeance and torn into the sanctuary against Rick’s advisement.

“Daryl, you—”

“There was kids in there. I knew an’ I—” His chin began to quiver, but his gaze remained vacant. He was seeing it all, reliving what he had done with that truck. What he had let happen. For a moment, a mere heartbeat, you wondered if this was something you could get past yourself.

Then that moment was over. He had been hurt, tortured and humiliated. You couldn’t justify his actions but you could forgive them. But could he forgive himself?

“We need to go, Daryl. You can’t be here anymore.” You wrapped an arm around his lower back and urged him forward but he didn’t move. “You can’t help them now.” You said quietly, your own tears falling. Daryl looked at you then, his expression one of devastation and guilt.

“What’ve I done?”

[donutfloats]

Wait, are The Fox And Ratau's friendship the "friendship turned mutually destructive that will never heal because neither can trust the other as they once did" variety of The Farmer and The Snake tale or are they the "trusting person helps someone in need, only to be betrayed once their help is no longer required" variety?

I'm pretty sure it's the latter, because yk its the Fox we're talking about, but can't never be to sure considering googling it will lead you to both versions of the tale, so that's why Im asking lol

Both if I were to be honest!

They were friends at one point, sharing similar situations (fucked over by gods)

The Fox however was using Ratau to get to the Red Crown, as it’s the only crown left that he has not tasted

Problem is that he maybe sorta kinda caught actual feelings, and started to care about the Rat, but when Ratau discovered The Fox’s plan he cut off contact entirely to them

So present day The Fox requests to eat Ratau with the thought that it’s because he’s the only being he can eat now that has a connection to the Red Crown, but really he still has feelings for Ratau and wants him close again

They were not healthy for eachother because of their relationship being built off of their dislike of the other gods

The Fox is basically in complete denial of how they feel, while Ratau has trust issues and deals with it by devoting himself entirely to The Red Crown

What would happen if Fox ate Ratau though?

My idea is below the cut (cw emetophobia, only mention of it)

So to explain why Fox would have this reaction I’m about to describe I have to quickly explain Fox’s motives for why they want to eat someone that’s related to The Red Crown

In my au Fox, when they were a mortal, was alive during The Great War. They saw gods die, homes burn, fields wither and seasons stop entirely

There was an intense famine during this time, perhaps a tactic used by Heket to dwindle the numbers of opposing cultists. Fox was amongst those starving

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so Fox ate the corpse of a dead god

It wasn’t the first time they had to eat a person, they were starving after all so there were plenty of bodies to pick from for a time, but the bodies rotted away and there were fewer every day. So when they found the body of a dead god they jumped at the opportunity

They discovered that it had a taste to it, something completely unique that made it stand out from mortal flesh- and he liked it

That’s how it started, every time he found a dead god, he’d eat their body. Time would pass, the fields would grow plentiful again, but The Fox still craved more of the godly flesh

So they made it their goal to taste every crown bearer, and if they couldn’t eat the crown bearer- they’d eat their disciple instead, ones who have consumed their gods blood and now had it course through their veins

That is why they wanted the Red Crown, it is the last one, the final course

With that explanation of Fox’s motives, this is what would happen if they were given Ratau and ate him:

Fox would discover that the Red Crown’s flesh tasted of… nothing. No bitterness, sweetness, sourness- hell they would have taken rotten

But it didn’t taste of anything, and they’re devastated about this

All this time, all this waiting, even eating the one person who ever cared for them- it was for NOTHING

So that sends Fox into a melt down, they want to take back what they had done, so they throw up what ever remains of Ratau

All that’s left is bones

That’s why you never see Fox again after handing Ratau to him, as he sits at the spot he spat Ratau up at. Having made a pitiful shrine with what ever remained of his body, and sits there: in denial of what he has done, hoping maybe Ratau will come back to life again one day like he always did when he was a Vessel

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 3: OF BILL'S SOLITUDE AND BILLFORD (3/3)

Welcome, everyone, to the last analysis post regarding TBOB.

It has been a long journey - and a fun one too! I’m glad you appreciated all the previous posts and I hope this one will be appreciated as well.

For all disclaimers and premises, please check the links below.

<- Previous post - Masterlist

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Cause of his own pain

Before TBOB, I don’t think a lot of people thought Bill would react badly to his breakup with Ford. Maybe he would get angry or become even more possessive - in Journal 3, we know he promised an entire galaxy, to the creature who would’ve brought Sixer to him.

But facing it so badly to go to a pub and drown his sorrows? I doubt it was on a lot of people’s bingo card.

Speaking about the “LOSING SIXER” page a bit more: Bill said Sixer secretly loved “our “will-they-won’t-they-destroy-the-world” relationship”. And for all the people who don’t know, the “will-they-won't-they” is a figure of speech about “a potential coupling between two people who share romantic chemistry, but whose relationship is threatened by uncertainty, external obstacles or internal strife.” (courtesy of Google).

So not only Bill cared about Ford, saw him as similar to himself and has been more honest with him than with everyone else, but he also considered their relationship romantic-coded. He was down for Ford, just as much as Ford was down for him. And it’s pretty clear he was, considering the “one Sixer, please”, followed by him crying, getting drunk, trashing the place and even forgetting his mother died. If that’s not being down bad for someone, I don’t know what it is.

Also, according to THIS interview, Alex Hirsch said that:

Bill’s a trillion years old, so it’s like, Ford disappearing for thirty years is like- [snaps fingers] is like somebody saying they’re ghosting you and then texting you the next weekend, you know what I mean?

So, for Bill, their relationship happened in a very short time. AND YET, he grew so attached to get devastated by Ford disappearing for something that for him was, like, a week. He was down THIS bad.

And, for me, this is the icing on top of the beautiful tragedy that is Billford, because now we can be sure Bill cared before, during and after the breakup. He saw Ford as a potentially romantic partner. He wanted him around.

But because of his unresolved trauma and his inability to properly distinguish feelings, Bill mixed love and fear, thinking they were the same. And the result was losing the only human in the history of mankind he had been interested in.

Furthermore, this makes Billford even more tragic if we consider that, for better or for worse, these two had the potential to become a happy, powerful couple.

Think about it: if Bill wasn’t such a messed up individual, he could’ve been the Muse Ford needed. He could’ve kept being the center of his life and the sun in his galaxy, as Ford said. They’ve found a kindred spirit in each other: they could’ve been each other family, each other’s supporter. And with their cleverness, they really could’ve gone “through hardships to the stars”.

On the other hand, if Ford was a much, much more messed up individual, he could’ve joined Bill in his plans to dominate the galaxy. He could’ve worked with him to bring Weirdmageddon everywhere. He would’ve destroyed everyone and taught “a lesson to all”. He would’ve been to his side, ruling alongside him, “all-powerful, greater than anything you've imagined”, as Bill promised during Weirdmageddon. They would’ve been the most powerful couple ever.

But Bill lost both possibilities and the fault is his own. Just like he lost everything and everyone else in the past, once again, the fault is just his own.

_______________________________

Again as before: alone

TBOB doesn’t end on a happy note. When I reached the last pages, I literally commented with: “Oh boy, that’s truly depressing”.

The way Bill snaps and says that “you turned out like all the rest”, the way he blames his past relationships, his “worthless Henchmaniacs”, his “miserable family” and Sixer. Yes, just Sixer, no bad adjective to add to him - understandable, considering he’s probably still down bad for him.

And he says he just needs one person, someone who will fall for his tricks. He’s not even looking for a special person: he’s just looking for someone. Someone who will get him out. Because he doesn’t miss anyone, nope nope, but he really, really wants someone. Anyone.

To me, this reconfirms Bill is and has been alone, for a very, very long time. Probably since the destruction of Euclydia. He tried to fill the void inside him with some romantic relationships, but he didn’t manage to keep them. He tried with friends, but he cannot understand a friendship not based on submission. He tried with an audience, but it still wasn’t enough.

And when he found the only soul who was so similar to him, both physically and mentally, the only one he was honest with, even if for a brief moment… he lost him too.

And now he’s, once again, alone. He lost his family, his friends, his loved ones. He lost everything.

_______________________________

An immensely fascinating character

Bill is so. Goddamn. Fascinating. He was a fascinating character before, because the series gave us hints about his potentially tragic backstory (the famous “Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams”). He was interesting and he was hiding something, so he got our attention.

Now, he’s fascinating because he’s multifaceted. He’s complex, he’s tragic, he’s desperate. You can empathize with him and feel sorry for him. But you can also laugh with/at him, fear him, condemn him. His tragic story doesn’t make up for what he did, but it helps us understand how he reached that point. In perspective, it makes all of his choices easier to understand too: Bill never went through all the stages of grief, he’s still stuck in the denial phase. And when you keep carrying denial for such an absurdly long amount of time, your choices and your mentality inevitably end up being skewed.

You know, it’s funny that Bill sees himself as a bidimensional villain, when he’s so, so much more than that. Maybe it’s all part of his trauma, his inability to see himself as more than just the insane monster who destroyed his home dimension. But this book does him justice and portrays him for the incredible, fascinating, complex character he truly is.

And that’s another reason why I respect Alex Hirsch so much. Aside from being funny and clever, this man is full of passion for the world he made. He is Gravity Falls. And, ten years later, he still has a great understanding of the characters: he can portray them so accurately, with so many details and connections to the previously disseminated dots - all while still leaving questions! Man, I can only wish to reach this level of understanding of my own characters.

So, once again, I’m here to thank this man. For creating Gravity Falls and sharing that world, while fighting censorship in every step. And for coming back, ten years later, to give the fandom a second renaissance.

_______________________________

Gravity Falls, it’s good to be back!

I have a ton of moments in my life connected to Gravity Falls, of summers, feelings and memories. This show saved me from depression, brought me up to my feet, took my hand to Canada and back home, then left my hand for a while to make me take some steps alone.

In these years, I learned a lot, improved my English, improved my writing in general. And now, I feel more ready, more mature, more capable of writing something like nine posts to analyze one single book and show at least a small part of the deep love I still feel for this series.

I hope you all felt it - at least a little bit. I hope you enjoyed my stupidly long analysis, my silly theories and my obsession with the triangle guy.

And if you’re still not fed up with me and want more rambling, please feel free to ask for more. Tell me what else do you want me to talk about, if you want episode analyses, if there is something else I missed, if Dipper and Pacifica are truly endgame (the answer is yes). I will write them inbetween other posts about other fandoms (Epic and CCCC, I am coming back for you both).

And if you want new Gravity Falls fanfictions, don’t worry: I have one already in progress, a second one planned and a third one still in my mind. Maybe not all three of them will see the light of day, but who knows? Maybe I will get new ideas too. The love for this series is too strong on me and I need to express it somehow <3

So stay tuned, because we will meet again very, very soon~

Thank you all for your time and attention and I wish you all a nice day <3

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24   @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters​  @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue​ @cynicalandsarcastic​ @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 ​​@arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.3k words, part 2)

Summary: Valeria despairs when you don't answer her calls and immediately returns to her residence, only to find you gone. In the meantime, Graves presses you for information, and Alejandro starts to understand why Valeria hides you so well.

TW: mentions of cheating, toxic Valeria and very toxic Alejandro (OOC but I think it adds juicy drama, sorry for ruining him!). Mentions of death and violence. apologies for the imperfect Spanish, I've been using Google Translate! I titled this as 'Valeria's girlfriend' but I ended up writing them as kind of unofficially married. Link to part 1 Link to part 3 Link to A03

Valeria knew something was wrong when you didn't pick up the phone. In all your years together, she never had to call for you more than once, you were always at her beck and call. Her face turned to stone as the call went to voicemail, it felt like her heart stopped and then started again with fire and poison. In hindsight, she should have worried about your safety first, but unfortunately, her insecurities got the best of her. Anger seethed within her as she thought of all the ways you had betrayed her the moment she left you alone. Infidel! Her right-hand man Rafael was looking at you closely when she left, no? How could she be so blind as to trust you? Of course, you were jumping around with her men behind her back - you seemed all innocent and pure, but sure enough the viper within revealed itself and finally slithered out of her tight grasp. Immediately, she called Rafael to check up on the house, and when he also didn't pick up the phone, she cut her trip short and packed her bags. El Sin Nombre doesn't need to explain why she's leaving early! She commanded her business partners to figure it out amongst themselves as she went to her chopper and rushed home. Her hands shook as she navigated the helicopter, her mind unable to stop thinking of all the ways you were intertwined with Rafael on your marriage bed; desecrating your marriage vows. Of course this would happen. Why would fate let Valeria get away with the betrayal she'd inflicted on Alejandro? It was only right that her karmic debt would catch up with her.

It was as she was lowering her helicopter on the freshly cut grass of your home that she began to realise her devastating mistake. Doors were left open with the curtains billowing with the wind, broken glass from shattered windows littered the entryway and, worst of all, dried trails of blood lead a path from the house to the bushes. Her heart caught at her throat as her eyes roamed frantically from one catastrophic sign to the other. Guilt coiled around her stomach and she cursed her darkness for having doubted your loyalty when really, you were fighting for your life. "Mi esposa," Valeria whispered as rushed out of her helicopter, the blades still cutting the air as she ran indoors, not even bothering to be cautious of any enemies that could still be lurking within the shadows. She knew there were bodies dumped behind the green bushes that you so tenderly cared for, but she couldn't make herself check for you there. Part of her hoped you were smart and had the time to hide somewhere good, but she knew you were as helpless as a child when it came to things like this. You, who were so kind and good, left to fend for yourself. How could she possibly think you'd remain unharmed within this field of work? Valeria selfishly forced a divine light like you to live in the shadows with her, of course you'd get snuffed out eventually. If not by Valeria's own hand, her selfishness and greed, her need to possess and own you at all times, then by the selfish and greedy hands of others. All these thoughts rushed through her as she ran from one hallway to another, rushing to your part of the mansion. Memories of violence clung to your home like spiderwebs, she could see the struggle that ensued in the doors left open when you'd normally keep them closed. In the flower vase that you lovingly refilled every week that now lay on the floor shattered, shattered like her heart. The flowers lay on the floor, dying.

"Mi corazon...," she whimpered and came to a stop right before your bedroom door, one hand clutching her chest as she stood there, too afraid to step in and face your fate. She could only hear the wind catching on your curtains and the light humming of your electric blanket. She could already picture the catastrophe. You were in bed, lathering your lotions on, probably adjusting your night light because you were too afraid to sleep in the dark without Valeria next to you. You were all snuggled for bed, probably waiting for her call on the phone, when somebody came for you. "God, give me courage," she said as she stepped inside and lifted her eyes.

It was as if you evaporated into thin air. She saw the marks your body left on the bed where you lay on it and your phone was still there. Valeria's eyes scanned every inch of the space, no blood or other fluids were on any of the surfaces. You were either taken, or whatever happened to you happened elsewhere. All your belongings were still there. She didn't want to have false hope, so she willed herself to look at the bodies left by the bushes. She charged through the rest of the houses, taking note of all the mess. Her chopper was still on as she crossed the garden you tended to, the sweet smell of roses faintly covering the stench of blood lifting from the pile of bodies. Rafael was there, along with the rest of her men who manned the house in her absence. Treacherous relief washed through her because you were not there. This was the most devastating attack that Valeria had ever experienced in all her years and she could not think of anyone that hated her enough to do this. A rival cartel? Unlikely. They were violent criminals, sure, but they still kept a code of conduct amongst themselves. El Sin Nombre was the biggest competitor out there, no one was so stupid as to do this.

Valeria went to the security room and saw the CCTV footage. Her heart stopped when she saw an all-too-familiar figure invading her home. The tall, dark man cut through her men and made his way directly to where her wife lay. It's like he knew exactly where she was. "Alejandro?" Valeria's heart dropped as she watched Alejandro prepare to break the door and attack her wife, who was shrouded in a naive innocence where she could never comprehend the attack she was about to experience.

Angry tears threatened to spill from her glassy eyes as she saw Alejandro's hand grab you by the throat and drag you out of your marital bed. The same bed that you made love in every night, now permanently defiled with the way he violently dragged you out of it. Bruises from his fingers would have definitely formed on your soft skin by now, if you were still alive. Valeria watched on as Alejandro handcuffed her wife and pushed her through the hallways, saying something to her ear whilst parading her through the home she was supposed to be safe in. It was no coincidence that Alejandro stared directly at one of the cameras as he pushed her wife forward, looking directly at Valeria's eyes. This was no incidental operation; this was deliberate and malicious. More so, it was fucking personal. Yes, this was where Valeria ran her operation, but it was also the home you and her nested in so lovingly. And now it was trampled all over by men in uniforms, just like those fallen flowers. She forced herself to watch on as you were put in a helicopter and disappeared in the night sky.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "I hope you're ready to talk now, sweetheart." After a few hours of silence, the door to the container you were kept in opened, bringing in some rays of sunlight before shutting again. The American, whom you now knew was called Commander Graves, entered along with Alejandro. It had been many hours since your abduction, you had no way of telling how long exactly. But you were tired and restless, and cold. You thought they might move you to a cell at least, but they made no effort to transfer you out of the metal container. Too afraid to say anything when not spoken to, you sat still and waited. You wondered if Valeria had noticed your absence yet but even if she did, how could she find you? "I'm not sure what to tell you, sir." You remained polite hoping that courtesy would make up for your lack of talking. "Don't be like that, there's plenty to tell. How about we start with this little business trip of hers?" Graves circled around you, placing his hand on your shoulder before finally coming to a stop. " What'du hear about it?" Graves had many years of experience underneath his belt when it came to interrogation, especially the violent ones. And so did the 141. That was made very clear from the beginning. If this was any ordinary member of the cartel, they'd have buried them by now. But spouses were different; you hurt them and there'll be hell to pay. Even worse, there'll be no chance of making a deal with Valeria. "Like I said, I just know she went away for it, sir, that's all."

"Hm," he said and dropped his hand. He moved to stand right in front of you. "Well, you must know something. You know she's El Sin Nombre. You know she runs the biggest drug cartel in Latin America. You know she runs an international operation, you know she has friends in many places. What am I missing here?"

You looked up at him. "That's basically it, sir. It's a drug operation. But I don't know where it comes from, who her manufacturers are, or how she sells it. She doesn't deal with small details." Graves was starting to lose his patience, and not with her but with Alejandro. He couldn't understand why he insisted on extracting a housewife instead of the real deal. Here he was trying to gather intel on those Russian missiles with a trophy wife who hasn't had a day out of the kitchen, let alone discussions with the biggest terrorist organisation in the world. It was time to cut loose and make the call. "Hermano, take over for me will ya? I'll be right back." Graves walked away, wondering what General Sherperd will think of this whole situation.

You were alone with Alejandro now, who paced up and down the compound like a restless animal. You wondered to yourself how similar he was to Valeria, she had the exact same habit when she was stressed. They were very similar in temperament; too similar. Aggressive, hard-headed and dominant. Part of you gloated at the whole situation. Here was a Colonel of the Mexican Army, a well-decorated military man, wasting his time with you, someone quite irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, all because of- "Your wife," he said, disrupting your thoughts and you suddenly realised you were staring at him. "Is that correct?" He nodded at your ring finger. "Yes, sir," you replied timidly. He was exactly like Valeria, and it worked in your favour. You've spent so many years living with your partner that it was almost too easy to deal with people like her. People who could fill up a room with their presence; intimidating, powerful people who could hurt you badly. The sort of people who made the world go round. People, in other words, who could be domesticated.

Because violence and intimidation aren't the only ways to get what you want. Alejandro scoffed, "you've come a long way from that food stand, huh?" He looked at you with a faraway look in his eye, his mind having entered that shrouded area of the psyche where apparitions of the past hover, always eager to glide into the present in the form of memories. Your heart softened both at the memory he was referencing and because, at that moment, he seemed so pitifully sad, having lost himself in reminiscence.

Many years ago, you helped your Abuela run her restaurant in Las Almas, which stood very close to where the Mexican Army had its headquarters. Your Abuela was a genius in strategy and profited a lot from the laziness of soldiers who couldn't be bothered to cook for themselves but who also didn't want to eat whatever the Army served. And that's how you met Valeria, who was regularly sent by her teammates to fetch a group order. Valeria picked up the food because it was expected of her, an unfortunate burden of being one of the youngest women in her squad. But over time, she did it because it meant she got to see you. To everyone's surprise, when Valeria ran away to work for the cartel, that quiet girl in the small restaurant vanished too. "Alejandro." His eyes snapped back into yours. "Lo siento mucho. I really didn't know about you and Valeria. I am not that kind of person." You knew exactly what this was all about. Sure, they wanted to get El Sin Nombre and Valeria *was* the head of the biggest drug operation in the world. And she *has* made Las Almas dance to the rhythm of her tune for the past decade. But this was all just a big temper tantrum. And if you played your cards right, you could leave unscathed. You continued, "Whatever happens, I just wanted you to know that. I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone."

Something changed in his eyes. You could already picture what was about to happen. After your sincere self-flogging will come his pity, then the remorse. He might chuck you in a cell to show that he's treating you like the criminal collaborator that they all think you are, but soon enough he'll arrive bearing the fruits of forgiveness. Just like Valeria, you told yourself. Like moths to a flame. "Hm," he mumbled to himself, his eyes roaming all over you. "I get it now." He cocked his head to the side, "eres una cosa encantadora." At that moment, you felt a change in the air, something dark hovered between you two. It made you shiver.

"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?"

Hope you enjoy this part! Promised tags: @justmare @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @lesvii @silas-222 I'll bring Valeria and her partner together in part 3! I've also thought of a cute backstory for them that I want to get into :) also sorry for ruining Alejandro, i made him so toxic in this fic 😭

[whatwouldsylwrite]

Nipple Piercing Tragedy

You get a nipple piercing and Abby gets excited. And then upset (in a totally cute way).

Minors don't interact!!!! This is an adult work meant for adults, I'm really uncomfortable with anyone younger than 18 reading this, so please move on.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, smut. Abby is a tits girl here. Fingering (r! receiving), thigh riding (Abby! receiving), non-sexual tits obsession I guess?

I've had an idea a few days ago about reader getting a nipple piercing and how hot Abby'd find it but then I remembered how fucking long it takes to heal and I got a completely different silly idea. And then this idea derailed into me writing smut.

Also, I never would have thought in my english non-native life I'd be googling the difference between tits and boobs, but here I am. (still don't know if there is a difference though)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"I want to get a nipple piercing." You said to Abby and her head perked up from your chest.

"That's hot. And painful." Abby put her hand on one of your boobs, squeezing just slightly.

"I don't mind pain." You shrugged, not even fazed by Abby's hand: she really did treat your boobs like stress balls.

So you got your piercing - it hurt, but not as much as you expected, but as your piercer went through the care guide, you got a little nervous. You knew before it would take a long time to heal, but as you listened to your piercer your mind went "oh-oh", because Abby would definitely get upset.

So you went home, did all necessary cleaning procedures, put the bra on and waited for Abby. She was very excited when she got home, asking you to show her and tell her everything and you decided not to spoil her fun immediately.

"God you look hot." Abby couldn't move her eyes away from your nipples. "How long is the recovery?"

"The full recovery takes about a year." You said and Abby's face dropped. "But you're not allowed to touch them for a month. And I have to sleep in my bra."

God Abby looked like a kicked puppy, sad and pleading, and you felt sorry for her, so you kissed her forehead as she hugged you.

"So no titty time?" She asked, absolutely devastated.

"No titty time." You sighed sympathetically.

"Fuck if I knew I would have spent the whole night saying goodbye."

"You're silly." You laughed as you started to put your clothes on under the saddest puppy eyes ever. Abby was downright pouting and you felt helpless but in a "my child is upset that there's no sun during the night" way.

"You took away my titty time." Abby said as she crossed her arms on her chest, truly offended.

"Maybe it's my turn for titty time, hm?" You said, eyeing her chest.

"It's not the same." Abby pouted more as she watched you move closer to her.

You sat in her lap and kissed her face with small pecks until she smiled.

"Feel better?" You asked as her hands snaked around your waist, pressing you closer. "Ouch." You yelped in pain as your chests collided.

"Fuck, sorry." Abby said and loosened her grip on you before she kissed you.

The next week was hard. You didn't even notice how often Abby was touching your boobs until you had to remind that she couldn't.

You went to sleep? Abby's hands were on your boobs.

"What the fuck? Bra?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in it. And move your hand back on my waist." Abby sighed and moved her hand as you told her.

You watching a movie? Abby'd find her way to your chest on instinct and stop only when you'd catch her hand.

"You can hurt me, remember?" You murmured and Abby nodded, obediently moving her hand back to your tummy.

Well, at least during movie times she substituted for your tummy, kneading your flesh just as she'd knead your boobs before the whole Nipple Piercing Tragedy ™.

During sex? That was the time Abby suffered most because you were in a fucking bra, she couldn't even look at them! She'd kiss your stomach and your ribs because she couldn't get the real thing and then take her frustrations between your legs until you were a shaking mess. Not that you complained, but it did feel like a revenge campaign, the vigour and effort she put into making you cum.

Sometimes people would ask Abby why she was so quiet and she'd reply that she was waiting for her wives to return from war, and you'd laugh, slightly embarrassed. And then fully embarrassed when Abby'd clarify "(y/n) got her nipples pierced" with the saddest look. Usually it'd make people laugh while you'd cover your face with a hand in embarrassment.

The thing was: you've missed Abby's hands on your boobs too. You've gotten so used to her hugging you with one hand on your chest, or her head constantly on your chest. Abby would even sit just so she could be the optimal height for putting her head on your boobs, burying her face in them.

So after two weeks you gave up. The swelling stopped and it wasn't as painful anymore, so you decided you could do some good for both of you. You checked your piercing, satisfied with how it was healing - no more dried blood for a few days now - and went to the living room where Abby was playing the video game.

"Abby."

"Yeah?" Abby asked without looking at you.

"Go wash your hands. Properly." You ordered.

Abby paused the game and looked at you, puzzled.

"With soap." You added. Abby was still confused, but she listened and went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

While she was washing her hands, you took off your shirt and a bra, sitting on the couch half naked. Abby came back from the bathroom and stopped in her tracks as she saw you without clothes.

"(y/n)?"

"You can touch them. But very carefully, okay?"

Abby's eyes lit up and she bolted to you, crossing the distance almost running. She sat opposite of you, her hands already on your thighs, slowly crawling up.

"Was I a good girl, Santa?" Abby asked with a smirk when she carefully cupped your tits, not touching your nipples.

"Fuck you, Anderson." You laughed and closed your eyes, enjoying Abby's gentle touch as she massaged your boobs. You didn't plan on it being any prelude to sex, but fuck Abby's hands felt good. "I've missed it so much."

"Me too." Abby chuckled. "Can I kiss?"

"Yeah." You sighed, watching in anticipation as Abby leaned down, but then- "Wait. Your hair."

"Ah shit." Abby sat up and made a bun before laying you down on the couch. "I feel fucking blessed." She said as she was staring down at your chest, her fingers just slightly digging into your boobs.

You inhaled sharply and Abby looked at you, waiting for you to tell her if she hurt you.

"Feels good." You whispered, heat pooling in your underwear.

Abby looked at you with wide eyes and then she kissed you, hard and dirty, immediately opening your mouth with her tongue. She was desperate, hungry, starving for reactions she could get out of you just by touching your boobs.

You put your hands against her, not letting Abby's shirt touch your nipples, keeping the distance - you already experienced things tugging on your jewelry and let it be known how fucking painful it was, so you weren't taking chances with it.

Abby pulled away and moved down, getting comfortable between your thighs as she mouthed on your tits, avoiding your piercing. She missed it so much, being able to make you feel good like that, being able to touch you like that, listening to your heavy breathing and watching your face relaxed in pleasure as she kissed and sucked and touched the softest part of your body, her favourite part. Yeah, Abby liked when you were loud and trembling under her, but like this? Cosy, quiet and relaxed? Shit, this was precious, this was a testament to your love for each other.

"Abby." You inhaled when one of her hands moved down, just at the waistband of your pants. Abby looked up at you.

"Yeah? What is it, (y/n)?" She pushed her hand into your pants, her fingers immediately finding your clit. She watched your lashes flutter as you closed your eyes and she couldn't help but smirk: it was so easy to make you feel good.

"Fuck." You sighed and swallowed loudly. Abby smiled and put her mouth back on your tits as she slowly circled your clit, gentle and not rushing anywhere.

You put your hand on her head, caressing her hair, a little sorry her hair was tied and you weren't able to weave your fingers in her locks. Abby was taking her sweet time with you, her kisses long and just shy out of hickeys as she sucked on your skin so gently, her fingers keeping a steady pace on your clit, slowly but surely building up your orgasm.

And then Abby moved her fingers down and slowly pushed two inside you, enjoying the stretch and the heat, but most importantly how you bit your lip and furrowed in pleasure - you looked so pretty like this, trusting and soft. And this long high sound you made when she pushed inside you - that sound was rewiring Abby's brain every time. Abby moved up again to kiss you while she thrusted her fingers into you, your trembling hands on her chest.

"You look beautiful." Abby whispered and kissed your neck, leaving a hickey on your collarbones. She kissed you again and you moaned quietly into her mouth as her fingers curled just right inside you.

You stroked her waist and put your hand under her shirt, touching all of this gorgeous skin and soft muscles until you got to her boobs so you could cup them carefully. Abby sighed and her fingers lost their pace for a second, and she looked at you, wide-eyed.

You put your other hand on her hip, trying to move her, but Abby Anderson was fucking immovable at all times, which was hot and infuriating at the same time.

"Put your thigh between mine." You panted as you took her shirt off, enjoying the view. "You're fucking gorgeous." You whispered shakily.

Abby chuckled and put her thigh between yours just as you said, but even the changing in position didn't break her pace, her fingers moving in and out of you. It felt so good and you almost forgot what you wanted to do, lost in your pleasure - but you remembered and lifted you thigh up. Abby suddenly stopped as she felt your thigh pressing between her legs, and her breathing became quick and heavy.

Abby rocked on your thigh and pushed her fingers deep inside you at the same time, making you moan. You liked when she did that: pacing her fingers with her grinding, like it was her thrusting into you, not her fingers. Abby fondled your tit with her free hand, as she watched you with dark, lustful eyes, her mouth slightly open in adoration.

You watched her in return, because she was fucking divine like that, so concentrated on making you feel good, serious despite the pink blush on her face, her hips moving as if her own pleasure was an afterthought.

And then Abby moved her thumb to circle your clit, her fingers speeding up as well as her hips, and you were gone. You whimpered in surprise and arched your back, your orgasm suddenly so close and so intense. Abby smirked and sped up more, her fingers no longer as gentle as before, and you stopped breathing, digging your fingers in her hips, looking at Abby with big glossy eyes as your orgasm hit you like a violent sea wave, destroying you completely. You moaned loudly and shuddered, your thighs trembling, and Abby smiled at you, watching you with hungry eyes. Watching you cum was like watching the sunset - breathtaking every time. She didn't stop moving, letting you ride the aftershocks as your walls pulsated around her fingers.

“Holy shit.” You whispered in a shaky voice, your whole body shuddering. “Holy fuck, Abby.” You swallowed and took a few breaths, while Abby slowly pulled her fingers back, chuckling when your hips twitched and you yelped, sensitive.

You looked up at Abby and felt the second wave of lust hit you: she looked fucked out already and it awoke some hungry monster in you.

“You need to move, baby, come on.” You used your hands to push on Abby's hips and move her, breaking the spell she was under. You needed her to cum.

Abby moaned and continued riding your thigh as you watched her, touching her stomach and her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers gently. Abby was pretty like this, chasing her own pleasure, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, her bun ruined and her blonde hair pooling between her neck and the shoulder. Like a fucking painting, you thought. Abby moved her hands to your waist to get more leverage, pressing you down into the couch as she pushed on your thigh with more force. Her movements became erratic, so you helped her keep the pace, moving her hips back and forth until Abby froze and groaned helplessly, her hands squeezing your waist painfully as she twitched through her orgasm. You watched her, trying to sear her pretty face in your memory. 

Abby panted as her orgasm ebbed away and you smiled at her. She lied down on top of you, her head on your stomach, as both of you tried to even out your breathing.

“So is my titty time back?”

“Yeah.”

[queercanon13]

The Karma music video is packed with queer and sapphic themes. But what’s with that yellow beret?

We all watched the Karma music video on Friday (or Saturday), right? And then we all watched it ten more times because there IS JUST SO MUCH THERE. Right?!

I can’t even begin to unpack the whole thing yet, but let’s talk about the yellow brick road scene.

Taylor is obviously wearing ruby slippers (“the rubies that I gave up”) alluding to Dorothy/the Wizard of Oz. But she’s not wearing the rest of Dorothy’s getup. That’s because she’s not Dorothy, but in fact a friend of Dorothy.

She’s holding a broom (lots of witchy themes from her lately) and blows a kiss of blue (iykyk) glitter to three grim reapers (the two SBs and…?).

She’s keeping her side of the street clean, which harkens to the YNTCD MV where she clearly shows which side of the street she’s on:

Other things of note: it appears there are daisies embroidered on her collar, as well as growing along the yellow brick road. Her braids are also looped (“your braids make a pattern”).

The yellow brick road itself may be a nod to Elton John and his album/song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Here are some of the lyrics from that song, as well as a generally accepted analysis of the lyrics:

&

Seems like it would be super relatable to Taylor, right? Add in Elton John’s queerness/coming out journey, and the parallels continue.

There are probably a hundred other things I’m missing just from that scene alone, but what I really wanna talk about is the yellow beret, especially in light of current news surrounding Taylor.

When I saw the yellow beret, I furiously googled “yellow beret” + the names of Taylor’s muses, but I came up empty-handed. Because Taylor is specifically not wearing a Dorothy costume, I knew that fucking hat had to mean something. Then I remembered — isn’t yellow beret a military term? And we know she loves a good war story. To Google I went, and the results did not disappoint.

During the Vietnam war, all physicians in the US had a mandatory draft order. One of the ways to avoid the draft was to apply for a position with a Public Health Service program called the NIH Associates Training Program. Because the elite program was highly competitive, only a small percentage of doctors were able to serve their required military time without going to war.

Yellow beret was a self-deprecating and derogatory term used by and for doctors who avoided getting a green beret/going to war (yellow can be associated with cowardice, i.e. “yellow-bellied”) via the NIH program.

Sounding familiar? But wait there’s more.

Bob Seger wrote a song in 1966 called The Ballad of the Yellow Beret. It was written as a parody of the song The Ballad of the Green Berets. Here are some of the lyrics (I encourage you to read all of them!):

Verse 1: Fearless cowards of the USA // Bravely here at home they stay // They watch their friends get shipped away // The draft dodgers of the Yellow Beret

Okay, I’m seated.

Verse 3: Men who faint at the sight of blood // Their high-heeled boots weren't meant for mud // The draft board will hear their sob stories today // Only the best win the yellow beret

Oooookay.

Verse 4: Back at home a young wife waits // Her yellow beret has met his fate // He's been drafted for marching in a protest //Leaving her his last request

Are you screaming yet? Just wait.

Verse 5: Put a yellow streak down my son's back // Make sure that he never ever fights back // At his physical have him say he's gay // Have him win the yellow beret

And if that wasn’t enough, two of the last lyrics are “I've got a pimple on my trigger finger” (ew) and “well, we were planning on having children sometime soon” (devastating). These themes also align with The Great War, epiphany, etc.

But despite attempts to diminish their efforts through claims of cowardice, these “yellow beret” physician-scientists contributed to some of the most important and innovative medical research we have today. Dr. Fauci attended the training program, as well as nine others who went on to win Nobel Prizes.

Could it be that Taylor is trying to tell us that, while it looks like she dodged the draft (didn’t come out), she’s doing some important mastermind shit behind the scenes? Only time will tell, but since we are now at “dawn,” I believe daylight is soon to follow. ☀️

[saelxstia]

to tread the path angels fear (p1)

-

characters: sunday x reader

genre: slight angst to fluff

warnings: im not good with sticking to the storyline

other: you guys speak french at some point but dw theres a translation (i just used google translate but shhh), p2 is posted

it came as a surprise to be invited to the charmony festival, considering *he* was the one who organised it. out of all people.

he and you were not on the best of terms. you used to be innocent lovers who believed their days of serene affection would be endless, back in the distant past, when you were just younglings enjoying the springtime of your youth. and of course, that would never come to pass. in fact, you loathed the idea of getting anywhere close to him, as your breakup was everything but cordial.

what made him invite you, then? that part was a mystery. but, even then, you decided to accept the invitation because he was merely the family's spokesman. it wasn't as though it was a private festivity just for you. and since penacony was both your and his homeland, you had every right to take part in the celebrations and pay a visit to your mother planet.

you were lost in thought as you bathed in the familiar water of your room at the reverie, memories of the past clouding your mind. you shook your head and closed your eyes, trying to push sunday’s memories from your consciousness. you wanted nothing more than to stop thinking about him right now, but the weight of his invitation was wearing you down.

just as you were about to fall into a troubled, but nonetheless comfortable slumber, a hand had forcefully pulled you from the water, and hard. the firm grip on your arm was painful. you opened your eyes wide in horror, trying to see just who had the nerve to storm into your private hotel room and jerk you out of your reverie. you’re greeted with the sight of the man you’re conflicted with the most, and you think to yourself; why did it have to be him, of all people?

“(name), cease your haste. do not enter the dreamscape," sunday warned, his tone carrying the same familiar dullness, but a hint of franticness lied under his infuriatingly composed exterior. despite your rage, you felt compelled to listen, if only for the fact this had been the most panic you'd ever seen him in, even if it was barely discernible. you hated to admit, but you knew him well enough to pick up on the smaller details. "i have lost my dear robin to this nightmare. i do not wish for you to be another loss."

“… what?” you couldn’t believe your ears. you have just returned home and you already ask yourself thousands of questions. first of all, what happened to robin? did she get hurt? is she.. gone? why can't I enter the dreamscape? and...why does he care all of a sudden? you pull yourself out of your thoughts, and focus on the bigger picture. in other words, find out what happened to your best friend. “robin.. what happened to her? what do you mean?”

he sighs, his expression remaining as stoic as ever, although now there was pity in his eyes for you.

"robin passed away as she was exploring the dreamscape last week," sunday says. "she went missing and then turned up dead. they ruled it as an accident, but i saw her body." his tone was steady, but you could see the edges of his lips twitch downward slightly. “i suspect the dreamscape has some sort of malicious entity lurking within it. i will not risk you falling prey to it as well."

your face falls. *robin is dead?* no, you won’t accept this. she was your best friend, the one who supported you and your decision to leave penacony after your predicament with sunday. your heart drops, and you feel devastated. you look up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. he understands what you’re feeling though, and he nods slowly, a somber expression settled over his face. despite the tragedy that had befallen another in the family, he was not letting his emotions overcome him. he was simply stating the facts as is.

"i will not allow the same to happen to you," he declares. "i will not lose another person dear to me." he pauses, his gaze settling on you now. there was such raw emotion in his voice that you could not recall hearing from him before — it was almost as if his facade was crumbling.

you pause. your heart and mind are riddled in confusion as you listen to his last sentence, taking time to reflect on the last three words. “… dear to you?” you ask, tone laced in equal parts uncertainty and hope, and though you want to believe otherwise, you can’t deny that you want those words to be true.

and for the briefest of moments, sunday's gaze falters as if he was contemplating something — whether or not to say something to you, to divulge a secret that he had never shared before. "... yes." he replies finally, with a solemnity you almost can't believe to be coming from his mouth.

"you are dear to me."

you wonder if your ears are deceiving you. you almost can’t believe the sheer sincerity in his words, the slight crumbling of the facade he always has up, and the declaration of how you are, in his eyes. “… really?” you whisper out. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you take a moment to breathe. you look at the floor and squirm under his gaze, unable to speak anything more.

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face unreadable — only pity and sadness can be discerned upon his features. “look at me," he demands. he's not used to asking, used to being ignored, but you had never seen sunday like this — vulnerable, anxious— a different person entirely. so you obey his order, raising your head and staring back at him. a beat of silence passes between the two of you, both of your expressions devoid of outward emotion.

sunday's lips twitch slightly. they twitch again. *he seems to be thinking something over,* you think. finally, he speaks, staring deeply into your eyes as if trying to read your soul, "... i have something to share with you."

you blink, a little caught off guard, but nonetheless opt to hear him out. “what is it?” you ask, looking at everything except him. sundays voice trembles slightly as he speaks. "when you... left. i..." he takes a deep breath before he continues, struggling to find his words, "i was a fool to take it as easily as i did. your departure — from penacony, from..." he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to find the right words, "i was distraught," he suddenly blurts out, his hands tightly clenched together. his hands are shaking now. "... when you left, i was... *lost.*"

you stare at him, shocked, but your shock quickly turns into skepticism at his sudden confession. “why are you telling me this?” you question. he meets your gaze, his stare unwavering, his expression unchanging, and for the first time, you see his facade fall away entirely. for the first time — the real sunday finally shows his face to you.

"... because its the only way i know how," he says simply, not realizing the deepness of his words. "its the only way i know to tell you that..." he swallows. "that i need you."

after what feels like forever, you bring a hand up to hover hesitantly over his cheek, “i’ve never seen you this.. sincere. jespere que vous savez a quel point cela compte pour moi.” (translation: i hope you know how much this means to me.)

his breath catches in his throat as your gentle palm caresses his cheek. it's a tender and almost loving gesture — which he hadn't received from you in years. his eyes widen slightly in surprise, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. he looks... touched by this gesture. touched and vulnerable. something you rarely, if ever, see on his face. the old sunday was usually all business and stoicism and politeness. this new sunday... he seems — different. *softer.*

but youre still suspicious. your expression changes, and you pull your hand back, “ but i still feel like i don’t know *you* anymore. are you really serious, or are you toying with me? please be honest, je ne veux plus avoir le coeur brise.” (translation: i don't want to be heartbroken again.)

the question makes him tremble for the briefest moment, but he quickly regains his composure. he takes your hand in his own gently, his fingers interlacing with yours. "you have my word — i am being entirely sincere." his tone is firm and steadfast, no longer carrying the faint trace of uncertainty it had before. "i was foolish to let you walk out of my life so easily, i... i regret it deeply. i..." his fingers tighten around yours. "i would be devastated if anything happened to you. please... dont go to the dreamscape."

his words touch your heart, and though the you from a few hours ago would detest the you of now, your gaze softens, feeling like the love in your heart that has been kept under wraps will start overflowing again. “daccord. je te ferai confiance et je taimerai a nouveau. mais sil vous plait, ne faites pas la meme erreur que vous avez faite il y a toutes ces annees. and don’t worry, i won’t enter the dreamscape anymore.” (translation: all right. i will trust you and love you again. but please don't make the same mistake you made all those years ago.) you declare, and move ever so slightly closer to him.

he feels the heat of your breath as you get closer to him — he had forgotten how close the two of you would be when you were young, lovers, partners in life. the familiarity of your closeness to him takes him back to those days. he takes your other hand in his, tightening his grip around it, almost as if it was a lifeline, a guide, to keep your proximity to him. "i know better now," he replies, his eyes never faltering from yours. "back then, i did not know the depths of my love for you until you left."

you forget everything that made you loathe seeing him again, all your rage, all your hatred. as your heart overflows with genuine joy, you are reminded of just how much you used to love each other back then, and you will do anything to get it back in your grasp. you gently squeeze his hand, and lean in close enough that the tips of your noses are barely brushing against each other, “… may i?”

his heart skips a beat. for a quick moment, he doesn't respond — only stares into your eyes, watching you closely. when your noses are only a millimeter apart from one another, when you can smell the subtle scent of his cologne, when the tension and the passion that had built up between the two of you for so long burst at last, he finally gives his answer: *"oui."*

you smile, the joy and love in your heart pouring out of you and into your next course of action as you put a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, pulling him closer and kissing him softly. sundays heart thumps as you pull him closer to you, his lips locking with yours, the passion, the desire, the years of longing for this moment finally spilling over. he responds with the same ferocity you do, his hands gripping your sides as he pulls you as close to him as he possibly can. the kiss lasts long, almost like a lifetime, and when you finally pull away and breathe, the two of you are panting, trying to slow down the beating of your hearts.

you smile so softly at him, and you feel so at home. “jai attendu ca toute ma vie. je je taime, sunday.”

(translation: i’ve been waiting for this all my life. i love you, sunday.)

sunday, for the first time in a long while, is speechless, the events of the past hour still lingering in his mind. you had shared a kiss — it was as though all that time and distance had never existed, as though the two of you were those two young, naive lovers still exploring the wonders of life. his voice cracks slightly as he replies. "je.. je taime aussi." (translation: i.. i love you too.) you move to embrace him in a warm hug, stroking his head and sighing in satisfaction.

he meets your embrace, wrapping his arms around you firmly, the way he had always done back when you were younger. despite your years spent apart, it feels completely natural to the both of you. as if you were still those same loving partners you used to be. "i will never, ever make the same mistake again," sundays murmurs as he clutches you tightly, a smile slowly forming on his lips. for the first time, he truly lets himself believe — this time, you are here to stay.

"never again," he says with an affirmative nod. "i realize now, that our time together... is fragile."

p2 is posted yay!!

this is the first time ive written something like this so maybe hes ooc and it's kinda bad but whatever. i love u sunday my wife ❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️

[romanoffsbish]

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (brief)

Summary: Wanda made a big mistake, but who hasn’t? She never said she was a saint. It upset her that you weren’t more understanding, but it upset her more to see you trying to move on. There was no one better for you than her; she planned to show you that in malicious ways.

🎼 “My head is sayin', "Fool, forget him" ; My heart is sayin', "Don't let go. Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do. I'm hopelessly devoted to you. But now there's nowhere to hide. Since you pushed my love aside. I'm outta my head. Hopelessly devoted to you. 🎼

Warnings: Cheating, Breakup, Murder (beloved character), Kidnapping, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

Smut: Non-Con(Mind Manipulation), Top!R x PB!Wanda. Degradation, Strap(W), Oral (W), Choking, Squirting.

18+ | Minors DNI

Please, head the warnings, and don’t report.

(Images from Google)

——

Today was an amazing day for you, the mission you went on with Steve and Natasha was the final step taken to make you an Avenger. You were on top of the world after your oldest pal, Steve, shook your hand before yanking you in for a bear hug, "I knew you had it in you kid."

"Steve, I'm only three years younger than you and Buck, and I'm an Avenger now, cool it."

Natasha smirked, then she also pulled you in for a hug, but it was far less brutal, and you found her abundant warmth comforting.

Nothing was meant to ruin your shine today, but as you exited the jet to find only Tony and Yelena stood there your entire mood deflated. Bucky, your older brother was nowhere to be found, but more importantly neither was your girlfriend, and that was becoming her trend.

——

It was like a switch went off one day, and she just decided that living blissfully with you and your pigmy cats in the condo Tony bought for the two of you wasn't her cup of tea anymore.

At first you were devastated by the loss of her affections, but now, you're honestly fine with it. Over the years her loving hold became a bit too tight, a gentle cupping of your cheek turned into a harsh gripping of your chin. A night of passionate love making turned into a war-zone, the mattress no longer a place of solace, but instead a battlefield where you lost your love. It'd been as if a monster dead set on carnality took over your soft Sokovian girlfriend's body, and had no intentions of letting her go again.

It's suffice to say you were expecting her to be absent from your return, but what you weren't expecting was to hear the sound of her moans as you entered the once comforting home. After a moment of being frozen in time, a deja vu like experience for you, you decided that you were jumping the gun in assuming the worst.

So you slipped your jacket off, along with your shoes, then made a beeline for your sleeping felines so you could calm your anxiety down a smidge before you got the courage to pinpoint the source of your girlfriend's clear euphoria.

"Wish me luck loves," you muttered into their fur as you place a kiss to each of their faces.

Sadly though, no amount of preparation could have been enough for the sight you walked in on. Bucky, your found brother, the man who's family took you in after your family died in a plane wreck, was pounding into your lover. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in his stance, and you knew by the way Wanda screamed out in pleasure that she definitely didn't feel bad.

Neither of them acknowledged your presence, but you knew by the sight of Wanda's slight smile that she knew you were there, and that made you sick to your very core. The idea that you'd given her the best years of your life just for her to throw it in your face so devastatingly was far too hard for you to bare in the moment.

All you knew was that you needed to get out, and you needed to do it right away, and it was as you loudly shuffled about the space that finally broke your 'brothers' focus, and got Wanda to see her plan coming to life.

Or better yet, crumbling before her very eyes.

Wanda watched you frantically stuffing your belongings in a duffle bag, and in this moment her every recent decision was backfiring.

"Baby, it was a mistake, please don't leave!"

"Mistakes don't occur with these precise of calculations," you spit while tossing your bag over your shoulder, "Your choices, Wanda, those do however come with consequences."

"Y/N, please, she’s right—it was a mistake."

"No, save your pleading for someone who cares Bucky, as far as I'm concerned my brother died with his arm—James would never have hurt me like this," you shoved by him, only to be stopped by Wanda blocking the front door.

"Y/N/N, I'm begging you, don't leave me!"

A bitter chuckle rumbles from your chest, hot tears too fill your eyes as the anger and sadness blend into one, "Now you," you paused to reel your emotions in as best you could, "God, I can't believe I ever believed you loved me."

"I do love you. Y/N, please listen to me."

"Newsflash Wanda: Love isn't meant to hurt!"

Wanda frowned, her tone serious enough to match her state of delusions, "All the greatest love stories come with a mix of love and pain."

"In Hollywood movies—sure, in real life, no."

Wanda's eyes were slowly changing hues to her secondary shade, crimson, and that was your sign to get out before she was to implode.

"Don't look for me," you reiterated your clear stance, "I'm no longer yours to seek out," and with the twist of your wrist you were gone.

Wanda crumpled to her knees, of all the many scenarios she ran through, this wasn't one of the ones she foresaw. For some reason she thought you'd fall apart, and need her to bring you back out of the slump her cheating caused. Hell, she even chose your brother for the shock but it seems you couldn't have cared any less.

"Wanda," Bucky crouched down, offering her a smile, but it only masqueraded happiness, his cerulean orbs were swimming with guilt.

The sight of the man now made her nauseous.

"Get out Barnes," Wanda snarled, pushing his extended hand away she removed her body from in front of the door, "This was a mistake."

After your defeated, cheat of a chosen brother left your once shared apartment Wanda's eyes returned to a serene shade of green. It was funny how you thought you had a choice here, taking off in a huff like that as if she couldn't find you just as fast as you could teleport.

Wanda however was methodical, she would let you think you were free to roam as you pleased. Then, when you least expected it, she'll reclaim you as hers, because you would always be hers. She just has to set up a few things beforehand.

——

It was a long three months, but the witch was taking the time to set up your cabin in Norway while also giving you a false sense of security.

Back when things were still going well, she remembered your dreams of retiring in a secluded little cabin with her, and your family. Whether that be the pets, or the kids you both had always wanted, logistics didn't matter to her much at the end of the day, only you did.

Her precious baby Y/N, poor, unsuspecting fool that she is, would soon be hers again, and with that came a promise of total permanence.

When she finally returned to New York she could feel your aura, it was no longer dull, and that made her heart twinge with momentary guilt, but it was swiftly forgotten when she stumbled upon you settled into the lap of Yelena at a cafe; she nearly lost all control.

—

You had no idea of the prying eyes, sure you felt an uneasiness in your chest as you walked down the streets of New York with Yelena, but you just chocked that up to the late night hour.

"Y/N, would you like to gaze at the stars?" you smiled softly at your friend, you weren't yet a couple, but it has been fun testing the waters.

Yelena was everything Wanda no longer is, and you’re honestly starting to believe that maybe she never was. Yelena was funny, and though she was snarky, it never was something you experienced directly. With you all she ever offered was an unfamiliar gentleness, and an abundant patience you felt undeserving of, it was as if with every passing day she was able to remind you that you deserved to be cared for without any sort of underlying stipulation.

"Of course, I'll go grab us a blanket," you settled a sweet kiss on her cheek, not missing the way the stoicism melted as she blushed.

"Bring snacks too!" Yelena shouted after you, voice cracking as she did, but you didn't let her know you caught it, instead you softly chuckled then disappeared around the corner. “Chips!”

The further you walked away from Yelena the more you were starting to feel a surge in intensity surrounding your ever growing uneasiness. Stargazing with her was one of your favorite things to do so you’re not sure why you were so anxious, but you chocked it up to something reminiscent of first date jitters.

You entered your apartment with a swiftness, not wanting to leave the blonde waiting for long. So you changed into a comfy sweatsuit, scrounged around the kitchen for her chips, then grabbed your fluffiest of blankets. After about ten short minutes you made your way up the long set of stairs to gain access to the roof. Your apartment building had many faults, but the luxurious patio wasn’t one of them.

“Hey Lena, I brought you Doritos, both cool ranch and nacho, and the off brand hot fries.”

“Y/N, get out of here, now!”

You looked up instantly, the bags in your hands hit the ground as you saw Yelena dangling over the streets of New York, you didn’t see her yet, she was cloaked by shadows, but the wisps of red holding the girl hostage told you who the perp was, “Wanda, put her down, now!”

“Okay,” Wanda shrugged with an indifference in her eyes as she made her self visible, the light of the moon showcasing her wicked grin, effectively stealing the air from your lungs as she slowly began removing her magic from around the young blonde’s body. Agonizingly slowly too, you regretted the words as soon as you said them, of course she’d take it literally.

“No, Wanda, please,” you shrieked, “Let her go, and I’ll go with you, wherever you want me to.”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Wanda pursed her lips as she gave way to thought, “She knew better than to touch what isn’t hers, yet she did it anyways, she clearly didn’t care about consequences.”

“Y/N, you need to get out of here, please go,” Yelena kept her face neutral, but you heard the slight quiver in her voice, saw the fear in her eyes, you knew she was beyond terrified; it was a bit morbid, but the way she cared for you even while in danger because of you warmed your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

“Wanda, she’s just a friend,” you tried, but all she did was offer you incredulous laughter, “You’re playing games Y/N, and you know whenever we play together, I always win.”

“Wanda! This isn’t a game, leave Yelena out of this, we can go, nobody will come for us.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m clueless, they’re all going to come to save you,” Wanda spat, “Yelena isn’t the only one in my way, so, it seems all I can do is slow them down,” she flicked her wrists, and Yelena went falling.

“No!”

Just as you were about to teleport to catch the blonde Wanda paralyzed your mind into a state of half consciousness, she wrapped you up and lifted you above the edge, tilting your body so you were parallel to the second victim of your tainted love, the first one being your own heart. Yelena lay in a jagged shape, limbs bending in ways they were never meant to, in a growing pool of blood, you felt an urge to vomit, but the paralyzation prevented it from ever surging.

“What a shame she had to die,” Wanda mockingly mourned the woman she killed, with a wide smile on her face to contrast the tears trailing down yours, “She was really funny.”

A blur of red surrounded your bodies like a force field, you blinked, never to open your eyes with joy again. It wasn’t something you registered at first, but when you finally allowed your eyes to flutter open you saw glimmering rays of sunlight hovering above your face.

To your shock there was no restraint system in place, besides the hardly dressed body of your ex. You silently retched at the sight of her fitting so perfectly into the crook of your elbow. An image reminiscent of olden times, when you were blissfully unaware of her unhinged status, but no longer could you look at her with love.

Wanda was a monster, that much you would carry in your heart until the day you died. Likely at her hands at this very point…

“I wouldn’t kill you Y/N,” she sighed in a slur, shortly to be followed up by a dainty yawn, “You’re my greatest love Y/N; destined to be forever you and me darling, you’re safe here.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm from beneath her body, “I’m no safer in a volcano than I am with you Wanda, you’re a sick, vile creature!”

Wanda grit her teeth as she moved to hover above you, her hand harshly slapped you in the face, causing a pool of blood to gather as you had bit your tongue, “Watch your tone whore.”

“Make me,” you growled, a flicker of insanity rolled through your eyes and she smirked, you could pretend all you wanted that you weren’t, but you were just as crazy as she was. “I will.”

Wanda removed herself from your eye-line, but she didn’t stay gone for long, soft red wisps permeated your temple, you audibly gasped, “Wanda, knock it the fuck off right now.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, your words were not convincing enough when your thighs were shamelessly rubbing together. Her wrist flicked, changing the imagery in your mind from her in the nude with her hands in her pussy to one of you fucking her from behind.

“Wanda, please stop,” you were losing your will to fight off her advances with every passing scene, each one more sinful than the last, you were always fucking weak when it came to her.

After only three more scenes she’d come out triumphant. “I need to taste you, please.”

“But what about Yelena?” she feigned heartbreak, “I thought we were in mourning.”

“W-Wanda please,” you begged, a pit of need settled beside the deeper pit of guilt in your abdomen, “I, I need to fuck you so bad.”

Wanda snorted, “Look at you, I just killed your girlfriend and you’re desperate to fuck me.”

The glare you sent would normally intimidate the person on the receiving end, but Wanda one upped you with a soft tilting of her head. Just like always you softened, a docile air to you as you let the fear sink into your bones. Wanda smirked at you, a show of victory if you will, because as angry as you presented, she was still the one who wins in the end. You might top, but she’s always the one in control.

With a synchronous blink you both reopened to find all layers had been shred from your bodies and the only addition was the massive black strap dangling between your legs.

“Go on detka, make me cum, I won’t ask twice.”

For a moment you were stuck in place, there was an insane amount of slick coating the inner thighs of your former lover, it left you stunned. Wanda watched as you reflexively licked your lips as you eyed her with lust clouded eyes.

“With your strap, you know tasting me is a reward you have to earn,” you rolled your eyes, but like an obedient puppy you give in, with a care you honestly didn’t feel you guided the tip through her folds to collect her essence, you swiped two fingers through next in route to her swollen bundle of nerves where you began to harshly rub circles into it, distracting her from the pain as you pushed the fat tip past her tight hole. The stretch alone brought her to the edge, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell.

There was no love in your movements, you rut your hips with ferocity, grunted into her neck angrily as you were frustrated with yourself for enjoying this twisted reality of sinfulness. Wanda’s moans were enraging you, it was a confusing feeling in your body, you desperately wanted to bring her body to the edge of bliss, while impossibly wanting her to not enjoy it.

“Fuck me harder detka! Make me cum!”

“Shut the fuck up Wanda,” you growled as you rose, a firm hand now sat on her hip to hold you up so you could utilize the other to constrict her airway. Fingers wrapped tightly around her throat as your hips fucked your strap so much deeper into her than before due to a shift in angle, and thus she was losing the ability to match you in both pace and vigor.

Wanda clawed at your arm when you tightened your grip almost dangerously. The fear you caused only aided in the unraveling of the pit in her stomach, her orgasm came out in a gush, soaking your thighs and the grey sheets below.

Even in the hatred of it all you couldn’t fight the way your heart fluttered at the gorgeous sight of her coming undone for you. No one else could ever make her this fucked out, with her eyes having had to of rolled to the depths of hell with how far they retracted into her body.

The way her chest heaved incessantly once you let your grip of her go, dark red lines left in your wake that added to her overall beauty. Layered perfectly over the harsher marks you’d already left behind with your grazing teeth.

Wanda pulled you in for a brief kiss, it was sloppy, and full of a mutual aggression as your teeth clashed, and hers drew blood from your lips when she held onto your lower one while lightly shoving you backwards as a hint to remove the strap from within her, and once again you did as she wanted like a weak bitch.

“Clean up the mess you made,” Wanda barked, spreading her legs even wider for you to see just what you’d done after strapping her, it disgusted you just how excited you were to be allowed to taste her, reaping a tainted reward.

Her words echoed in your mind as you realized the mess spread beyond this room. Because back home your friends mourned, and buried Yelena all the while you were across seas in Norway in a somewhat similar state, immense guilt pounding in your chest as your face was buried between the legs of the devil herself

They always say, to know love is to know pain; loving Wanda was akin to a dagger to the heart, a passionate surge of adrenaline, followed by waves of agony, and boy was it a messy affair.

——

3,196 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

[criticallyinneedofadar]

A Grave Homecoming

A/N: I've got about 3 months of TROP writing just sitting in a google doc so y'all better be ready to be BOMBARDED.

Pairing: Elendil x Reader

Warnings: Sad!Elendil, childloss? (Elendil thinks Isildur is gone but we know better so it's all ok)

______________________________________________________________

The wind carries the scent of the sea through the open windows as you stand in the doorway of Elendil's home, watching the horizon. Your heart has been on edge since the moment word arrived—he had returned from Middle-earth. But the joy you should feel at his return is tempered by a deep sorrow that weighs heavily in the air.

Elendil is coming home, but Isildur is not.

You had always known there was a chance that war would take him, it had never occurred to you that it might take his son instead. It is the fate of warriors, and Elendil had gone to battle with a noble heart and unshakable resolve. But even with this knowledge, you can’t help the ache in your chest when you think of the grief he must be carrying now, the loss of his son. And now, you don’t know how to be the comfort he might need.

The two of you had only just begun to explore your feelings before he left for war. It had been such a delicate thing, admitting the love you had for one another—sweet, tentative, and full of promise. There was a kiss by the harbor, and a promise exchanged, unspoken yet clear in the way he held you close before he boarded the ship. But that was before. Before the war. Before the grief.

Now, standing here, your heart pounds with uncertainty. What do you say to a man who has lost so much? How do you offer comfort when your bond is still so new?

The door creaks open, and your breath catches as Elendil steps through the threshold. His tall frame fills the space, and the sight of him—weathered and weary—tugs at your heart. His once bright eyes are clouded with exhaustion, darkened by something deeper than just fatigue.

“Elendil,” you whisper, but the sound of your voice feels too small in the heavy silence that follows him into the room.

He looks at you, and for a moment, something flickers in his gaze—recognition, perhaps relief—but it is quickly swallowed by the sorrow that clings to him like a shadow. Without a word, he steps forward, and you close the distance between you, your arms wrapping around him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He sinks into your embrace, his body heavy with the weight of loss. You hold him tightly, your hands trembling slightly as you run them across his back, trying to steady yourself in the midst of his overwhelming grief.

You can feel him breathing deeply, the rise and fall of his chest uneven as if he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. You want to say something, anything, but words escape you. How can words help when he’s lost his son?

“I’m here,” you manage to whisper against his shoulder, though it feels like a small offering in the face of his pain.

Elendil pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression raw, unguarded. His hand comes up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, and his touch lingers, soft yet filled with a kind of desperation. His lips part as if he wants to speak, but no sound comes out. Instead, his brow furrows, and you can see the battle within him—the need to stay strong, to remain the leader he’s always been, but also the crushing sadness that threatens to break him.

“I thought…” His voice cracks, barely more than a whisper. “I thought he would come back.”

Your heart clenches at his words, the quiet devastation in them. “I know,” you say softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I know.”

Tears gather in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. You can see him fighting to keep control, even now, even in this moment when it’s just the two of you. His grief is bound up in duty, in the weight of being a father, a leader.

You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you breathe him in, hoping your presence can offer something, however small. “You don’t have to hold it all in,” you whisper. “Not with me.”

For a long, quiet moment, he remains still, as if weighing your words. Then, with a shaky breath, his arms tighten around you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His body trembles against yours, and you feel a wetness on your skin as the first tear falls.

You say nothing, only hold him tighter as the silent storm of his grief begins to pour out. It is a long while before the tension in his body eases, his sobs turning into quiet breaths. When he finally pulls back, there is a vulnerability in his eyes that you have never seen before.

“I don’t know how to go on without him,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your heart breaking for him. “You won’t have to face it alone,” you promise. “Not anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your face as if trying to find something in you that he can hold on to. Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and filled with unspoken need. It is a kiss of desperation, of seeking solace in the only place he can find it—in you.

You let him carry on for a moment, getting lost in the sensations of his lips against yours, the scratch of his beard on your cheeks, before you gently pull away. “Come, my love. I’ll run you a hot bath. Clean the day off and then rest. We will take it one day at a time.” 

You go to turn towards the washroom when Elendil’s hand suddenly grips yours. You glance back, surprised at the strength of his grip. His eyes are roving over you, frantic and uncertain.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, “I don’t want to be alone. Not right now.” You can see the toll this admission takes on him. For a man so heavily steeped in duty and honor, to say this weakness out loud is a mighty concession indeed. 

Raising your other hand you brush it through his windswept hair. Elendil leans into the touch, eyes closing as he lets you hold the weight of his head. “We’ll go together. I’ll not leave your side until you order me away.” You smile softly and gently pull on his hand to get him to follow you. 

As you both make your way to the washroom and you turn the taps to bring the hot springwater to the tub, Elendil’s hand never leaves yours. Even as you gather some salts and soothing herbs to add to the water he merely sits quietly on the side of the tub, his hand tracing your palm, your wrist, and up your arm studying the patterns.

Once the tub is filled you gently urge him to stand and begin the process of removing his surcoat and tunic. Your eyes and hands gently trace the marks he has gained. You trace a mark on his shoulder, still healing, and place a soft kiss there, not seeking to sate your desire, only to offer comfort.  

He sighs as he steps back and removes the rest of his clothes, turning and sinking into the hot water with a weary groan. You reach for a washcloth to begin helping wash his back when he whispers your name softly. 

“Yes, meleth nin?” You turn back to regard him. 

“Join me.” He speaks softly, and gazes at you imploringly. “Perhaps just… let me hold you?” 

Your heart breaks at the tender look in his eyes. You nod, quickly disrobing and joining him in the warm, fragrant water. He quickly pulls you against his chest, sighing into your hair. A soft silence settles into the warm air. 

Tomorrow would bring enough challenges on its own. For now, you and Elendil basked in each other’s company. 

For now, that is enough.

[gege-wondering-around]

i was tagged by beautiful @dontcallpanic to do the several sentences sunday and im kinda off with the day but let's not worry about that!

here's a sneak peek of my fic which will be soon enough on my ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeans went flying somewhere he didn’t even look at and he took a good look at the man he was now staring at, a devastated man who had lost someone he cared for, and to make it worse, he had to kill him off. “Let’s go downstairs, mh? We’ll see if we can make some dinner” was an offer Stiles was extremely familiar with, he used to ask almost the same to his father after his mother died years back.

Derek just shook his head, ‘ok’ was almost a forced look on his expressionless face at that moment but Stiles knew better than to bite at it. He moved closer to him and extended a hand, “I got it from here” was an offer Derek accepted without much thinking.

Hand in hand they went downstairs and Stiles was amazed at how much the wolf trusted him and not randomly anymore. They had been sticking around one another for months just for the comfort of it. Instead of hiding and punishing himself like he once used to do, Derek was letting Stiles in like he had nothing to lose. And maybe it was that simple.

But it wasn’t.

Stiles knew and so did Derek, no one said anything about it but the words were there, waiting to be said. Such a complicity was nothing short of trust and likeness of one another, it was something more maybe and they both knew. Yet neither of them needed to talk about it, despite Stiles having often tried, the conversation never sailed.

Yet, who was Stiles to not keep his mouth shut for that long?

“Derek, it wasn’t your fault”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thankssssss sooo much @dontcallpanic for this tag since it brought back in me the will to write (despite from my phone, I've grown accustomed to my laptop) and I'll be on my google docs for a while now! all for the better!

tags with no pressure @jayjay55655 @eevylynn @hellameyers @oldefashioned @dontcallpanic and whoever wanna give it a go (wheveter you are a writer or not, joining in is always for fun💗)

[littlesparklight]

Are there any good books (preferably non-fiction but idm fiction recs) about Paris and/or Helen you would recommend for someone wanting to dive more into the mythology of each?

Haha you're only getting non-fiction because I'm so picky about fiction when it comes to Greek myth I've barely read any at all. So I'll give you some of my favourite academia! Anything that isn't a book is a paper you can read for free either on academia.edu or on Jstor (the latter with a free account). Or, you know, getting it in some other way just like with the books /cough

Helen of Troy: Beauty, Myth, Devastation by Ruby Blondell - SO good (some reviewers feel the Odyssey chapter is lacking,); it's obviously about Helen mostly haha but Paris gets solid mentions in the first couple chapters and scattered ones throughout. Depending on the edition you get, it might or might not have a chapter/paper titled Bitch That I Am: Self-Blame and Self-Assertion in the Iliad ; I recommend this one too, and it can be read on Jstor.

The Body as Argument: Helen in Four Greek Texts by Nancy Worman - really interesting, especially for the Iliad and Sappho 16 sections. On Jstor.

Image, Text, and Story in the Recovery of Helen by Guy Hedreen - he goes through this really systematically! Obviously, nothing about Paris here, but it's definitely a good look at the part of Helen's story that has to do with her being reclaimed by Menelaos. On JStor.

Helen's "Judgment of Paris" and Greek Marriage Ritual in Sappho 16 by Eric Dodson-Robinson - Sappho 16 my beloved. Anyway, it was a while since I read this one, but I remember liking it, and it goes into Helen as subject. Can be found on Jstor, Academia, or downloaded from the university itself!

Aspects of Effeminacy and Masculinity in the Iliad by Christopher Ransom - If you start reading about Homeric masculinity, you'll very soon notice there often comes a line similar to something like this: "but Paris is not that". And if you want to, like, read some actual exploration of how/why Paris is not that and what that means, they will not provide it! This is where Ransom comes in; he walks through the Iliad and all the ways Paris deviates from normative Iliadic (and general ancient Greek) masculinity. Very good paper. On Academia.

Artistic and Literary Representations of the Judgement of Paris in Antiquity by Cristian Mancilla - this is an unpublished thesis and you'll have to google search for it but it's downloadable from the university. If you're interested in the Judgment, this is where to go!

Euripides and the Judgement of Paris by T.C.W. Stinton - you'll probably have to borrow this book from a library? (I got it second hand from a second hand bookstore not even in my country lol) But it's one of those works that gets referenced very often and laid a lot of ground. Is not actually only about Euripides' versions/use of Paris.

Paris in the Epic Tradition by Roberto Nickel - another unpublished thesis, so google search title+author. If you're interested in a (speculative but grounded in the Iliad) discussion of what Paris' character might have been like in earlier times, this is where to go. Nickel explores (but is certainly not the one to have thought of) the possibility of Paris once having had basically both his and Hektor's characteristics in the Trojan War story.

Some general recs:

Listening for the Plot: The Role of Desire in the Iliad's Narrative by Rachel Hart Lesser - this one is now also a published book! (As Desire in the Iliad: the Force That Moves the Epic and Its Audience.) But having compared them, I like the unpublished thesis a little better, personally (certain sections/discussions I liked very much have been restated in a more restricted way in the published book, or otherwise gets less obvious).

Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition Through Tragedy by Edith Hall - This one can fit for a Paris rec as well because Paris is a focus thanks to being the "patient zero" and the prime exemplar of the "eastern effeminate barbarian" which is part of what Hall discusses. Very good/interesting book! Go be a pirate about it or download it on Hall's own site, no piracy necessary.

The Iliad: A Commentary by G.S. Kirk (and other authors attached to the volumes past vol. 2) - if you want a commentary, I really like this one, and in terms of Paris and Helen, obviously checking out the volumes that contain the books they appear in is interesting and useful!

[ideas-4-stories]

helloooo! I am once again sharing the cross guild Argentina au ideas. the brainworms are brainworming

also, Romantic Cross Guild!

•Alone, Mihawk would only drink fernet straight up and treat it with as much reverence as a glass of wine. But! With Buggy he starts to be fond of sharing it back and forth as it is meant to, a drink to be shared and enjoyed, he starts to get more loose and eventually he learns to share the moments and be a part of a group that loves him just as much as he loves them. Crocodile wasn't fond of fernet to begin with, but he also got fond of it after Buggy taught them the love that can be shared with it.

•Buggy has an atrocious sweet tooth, borderline solid diabetes. What else did we expect from a clown? Anyways, aside from all the piracy criminal stuff that Cross Guild does, I genuinly think that Buggy would beg on his knees, on his hands, pouting, crying and doing the biggest pretty please he could so Crocodile lets him hire bakers so that they would make him his favourite facturas and sweets every morning and also sold off for a little profit, but mostly for him to eat at mreakfast and merienda. Crododile does try his hardest to resist the pouting clown but he's helpless and obligues after a little while. They now have the best bakers money can get in the island and Crocodile and Mihawk get sugary kisses every morning now. They might have started liking sugar more if it is in their daily clown kisses...but nobody has to know that shhh. Also now on their list of services to offer they have Sweet Argentinian Facturas among other silly little things like murder, kidnapping, taking down pirate ships, y'know, the usual.

•Crocodile is one of the only people in the whole island that drinks mate the bitterest shit yerba can get it and as hot as volcanic lava, nobody wants to drink with him. Mihawk doesn't drink mate, he's more of a terere guy, and Buggy drinks mate with one kilo of sugar on top and midly cold (hes just like me fr). So that's why all three only share the table they put the things on. Every evening at merienda time the table has one stanley termo (like a one liter thing that stores water and keeps it hot), one jug of iced juice, one flashy hand-painted classic metalic kettle, and a distressful amount of sweets and sandwiches and bizcochos of various types and forms. It is always full of color and warmth and love.

▪︎Buggy can and will gobble up a whole jar of dulce de leche with spoonfulls. Croco and Mihawk are horrified.

▪︎Mihawk mainly dresses whith white loose shirts, used to hot climate like in Cordoba. So the moment winter starts he does not go out at all, he is deep in blankets. Buggy and Croco are very amused, but also find it a little cute

▪︎Crocodile gets up at 6am no matter what, even worse, he is an old ass cranky morning person. Mihawk and Buggy do not like it but, he is THEIR old ass cranky morning person, what're they gonna do about it?

(In this AU I headcanon Karai Bari island as looking less tropical and more like the woods around El Bólson(a village?city?town?in argentina) incluiding all the mountains and cascades and rivers and lakes and woods there are there, so the next places i will name are real ones, you can google them i love them all)

•As their first official date together they decide that nothings better than the Bosque de las Hadas (Fairy Forest) because of how magical and quiet it is there, after all, the fairys and gnomes are just stories, right?

Well, turns out stories are there for a reason, the start the date and everything is beautiful and they have the whole forest to themselves so they go al lovey dovey and suddenly they start hearing weird shit until they have to run out of the forest with Crocodiles help. At the end they had a disastrous date and Mihawk was kinda devastated inside, cuz he had suggested the Fairie Forest, but his partners made sure to make him know that it was interesting anyway and they spent a good time even if they were chased off by tiny feral fairies. Smooches are required and they do...other things too...

•As for their next day, they try a place with less magic in it, they fo to the Waterfalls. They have to do a little hicking; Mihawk is unbothered and enjoying the forest, Crocodile cheats with his sand a little, and Buggy whines the whole way up even if he is enjoying it, his whining stops when Crocodile puts him up on his shoulders and does indecent and spontaneous ass-grabbing. The Waterfalls gets to witness public indecency. It is a beautiful and succesful second date.

oooops i got carried away. anyway thank u for your time! have a good day :}

Sorry it took so long to reply, many long projects for school came one after another. Then I had no motivation for some days, but I'm back and I just have to say that I love these ideas. Them drinking together with something they either don’t drink with others or don’t drink at all is so cute to imagine!

I’ve heard ideas where Devil Fruit users need something that gives them energy or something like that… it could be food of some sort or smoking. I wonder if that’s true, Buggy’s must be sugar. Poor Mihawk and Crocodile, watching Buggy eat an entire dinner worth of sugar a day like Crocodile smoking through a pack or two of cigars a day isn’t bad as well.

I’m chuckling because I see Mihawk popping his head out of some blankets with Crocodile and Buggy, thinking Mihawk is being so cute. Love that Crocodile is their cranky old person in the morning. Karai Bari being more woodland area than topical looks nice in my mind, the fairy forest with little feral fae chasing them is so funny to think about. I wonder who pissed them off? The second date is everything, Buggy complaining about the shits n giggles, then gets lifted up onto Crocodile’s shoulder, now able to see more things with price of some public indecency.