#and utterly unchangable

[mckinlily]

The irony being if they just PAID THEIR WORKERS A LIVING WAGE they would have more money to spend on all the things so the companies would MAKE MORE MONEY.

But nooooooo treating people with basic dignity is appalling. Companies will do ANYTHING to “increase revenue” besides pay their workers. It’s so freaking stupid.

Something so profoundly fucked up between the inverse ratio of shrinking middle class and ever increasing aggression of advertisement

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm having incoherent thoughts about clone danny again from the clone/clone^2 au (when am I not?) but more specifically I'm thinking about his reaction to finding out he's a clone. The standalone clone au digs into that a little more than clone^2, which is more focused on Danny and Damian's relationship. But neither (so far) really get into Danny's issues about finding out he's a clone after 15 years of thinking he wasn't.

Because he resents his parents for not telling him for so long. He resents the way he found out; through a trivial school project rather than a sit-down talk. He resents the fact that, apparently, they had meant to tell him sooner. But forgot. He resents the fact that they never told him because finding out feels like something was stolen from him when it had the chance to not be.

Danny Fenton, just fifteen, cloned not even half a year ago, knows what that personal violation of autonomy feels like. He knows what it's like to be cloned and while he loves Ellie, he does, she's his sister, and in this au his twin. But he is still left with that feeling of unsafety after realizing he'd been cloned. Being cloned is violating. The onset realization that it's so easy to get DNA without the other party noticing, and that what was stopping someone from trying to clone him again?

Followed only after with the rest of the inexplainable mix of feelings of being cloned, the rest of that inner conflict and panic that's an ugly mocktail of emotions that range from horror to fear. Trying to imagine what it's like to be cloned from the cloned party, and I imagine that it leaves you with the feeling of needing to crawl out of your own skin with discomfort.

And then he gets put on the other side of it. Danny Fenton, only fifteen, was cloned not even half a year ago, finding out he is a clone. And reactions, I imagine, can vary from person to person. But to him, it feels like something got stolen from him, like someone took a hole puncher and stuck it right into his chest and stole a chunk of himself from him.

It changes nothing about him and yet it changes everything. It's a betrayal on it's own to just find out he was a clone and they didn't tell him for fifteen years -- it shouldn't mean anything, because he's still Danny, and yet it means everything. It's him, it's him, it's about him. It's his personhood. It's about the fact that a load-bearing rock in his identity just crumbled beneath his feet and now there's a rockslide.

Because then he finds out that they used the wrong DNA. Its like pouring salt in an open wound. He's not even related to his parents or his sister, when for years he thought he was. It's the fact that pieces of his identity that he's been so secure in for so long just got ripped away from him in an instant. Then they tell him -- only through his own horrified prompting -- that the person whose DNA they used -- Bruce Wayne -- didn't even know he existed. That they accidentally used the wrong DNA, then didn't tell the person whose DNA they used.

The betrayal of being lied to for years turns really quickly into horror at his own existence. Something very similar to the horror he felt at being cloned and the skin-crawling discomfort that made him feel like his own skin wasn't really his. And then its not. It's actually not. Nothing but his own name feels like it belongs to him anymore -- not his hair, not his eyes, not his heart or his lungs, nothing feels like his anymore and he didn't know what that felt like until it was gone.

It's a question of Nature Vs. Nurture -- where does the line of "nature" begin and where does the line of "nurture" end? What of him is actually his? What of him is Bruce Wayne's? It's not logical, it's not supposed to be. It's a load-bearing wall on the house of his identity being destroyed and now everything else is caving down in on him. What belongs to Danny, what belongs to Bruce Wayne?

[eebie]

they twinkified the old man

[mesacnaobloha]

The moon is beautiful tonight

[spearxwind]

Ouhhh I got tagged in a Put My "On Repeat" Playlist On Shuffle & Post 10 Songs That Come Up tag game by my pal @excaive time for tunes and putting my ass on blast

I've linked yt videos for every song, but some of the vids have flashing so I have also included warnings where necessary!

Onto the list let's goooo:

1.La partida - LUNA KI // wow.... starting off real strong 😭 lunka ki's music is a guilty pleasure of mine, i love dancing to it when im alone in the house. It's rly fun

2. Made to be broken - H.E.R.O ⚠ HUGE FLASHING TW FOR THE VIDEO!!! there are no yt alternates for this T^T here is the spotify link for this song if you are photosensitive ⚠ // It slaps <3 I have three songs from this album in my repeat playlist and theyve been there. Since january.

3. Voices - ALESTI, Loveless ⚠ Mild flashing for this one ⚠ // TALAS SONG TALAS SONG!!!! This tune rips hard and im obsessed and also the album cover is pink and blue god bless

4. Cynical - H.E.R.O // ANOTHER song from these guys. This one slaps hard too. "Show me my heartbreaks, run, repeat my mistakes"

5. Emotion Sickness - said the sky, will anderson, parachute // I love this tune sm and also its a CF song. I'm normal <3

6. Love me like my demons do - FALSET // Swag tune, I love the high pitch lyrics a lot

7. Without me - Dayseeker // Ough Dayseeker my beloved... they are one of my fave bands. Rory is my fave singer I think. All their songs are certified Coping songs but they also slap hard, without me is in my griefcore playlists. This one also starts soft and then kicks in HARD

8. Nigredo - The Sidh // It's techno and bagpipes, what's not to love. Also the title means alchemical decay which I think is dope as fuck. This whole album rules too I recommend it.

9. By the sound - Caskets // Some of the lyrics for this one literally make zero sense but also some other lyrics hit like a fucking truck there's no in between. "When you wake up, don't waste your heart in mourning me" kills me

10. Dreamstate - Dayseeker // Another dayseeker song that destroys me <3 "And maybe when the night comes I'll find you in another world" also kills me

Bonus song!! my current most looped song:

Back to you - ILLENIUM, All time Low // I literally keep listening to this song so much. Like I cant stop listening to it. I would like to make an art... comic thing for it eventually because it has a lot of personal meaning to me but I'm not sure when I will be able to do it. But man its good!! It's good!! All of the lyrics got me fucked up man

Andn tagging uhhh whoever wants to do it honestly. You specifically reading this. Give me your swag tunes 👆🎼NOW! (if you'd like to)

[dnangelic]

and its like. at the point they're at, the way that dark is always ready to separate or fling himself away from daisuke in a heartbeat with the complete, utter unassailable faith and expectation that daisuke will always come back for him (and he WILL) drives me insane. dark has nobody else to rely on, nobody else to speak with, nobody else who truly, deeply knows him the way daisuke does: he already only 'half exists,' and being abandoned by daisuke (who did wish that dark didn't exist initially, who had nothing on his mind but being free of his curse,) could be as easy as how krad described the way dark could abandon daisuke; forget him, keep the body for yourself, only dark doesn't do that Despite Legitimately Wanting his own body That badly. there's literally nothing that dark can do for himself in so many circumstances where he gets either trapped or captured, beyond let daisuke go --- but then wait, with nothing more than hope and total faith in his 'other self' and their determination and skills. then there's the funky magic stuff: even when they're separated, they're not really alone. even when they're separated, they're not truly apart. at most it's matter of voice and consciousness, and all dark has to do is wait for daisuke to find and fetch him again. that's part of why he's always telling daisuke that he's too slow or that he's been tired of waiting around; it's a confession of reliance, it's an expectation, it's dark's complete and utter trust, it's 'i'm you,' it's 'you've woken up to my existence inside of you.' dark himself would never and doesn't ever hesitate to reach out 'for the things he wants,' but the words 'i'll help you,' 'i'll come get you,' 'i won't leave you behind,' 'i'm here for you,' all without fail is what that kind of thing entails, though dark so rarely expressly says it - instead it's the honest, simple daisuke who doesn't obscure these sentiments in any way, but they really do operate in the same way for those they care about beneath it all.

[bassiter2]

literally THE most "cis" gay trans man i've ever met (and that anyone i know has self-describedly ever met,) and it's still not enough for me lol

[humbuggered]

"WE'VE HAD TO SAY A LOT OF STUFF

WE THOUGHT WAS FUCKING OBVIOUS

LIKE YES, IT'S OK TO PUNCH NAZI'S!" -Cheap Perfume, It's Ok /lyr

fuck nazis, the pathetic sacks of human shit /srs

FUCK NAZIS

[furuu]

∘ ◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ You hear the tapping on the glass again, and this time it’s unmistakable. Sukuna sits perched just outside the sliding door, his crimson eyes focused with laser intensity on you. Draped in morning sunlight, his fluffy face is utterly blank, but the bright colorful bird in his mouth is hard to miss, and he watches you like he’s expecting some grand reaction.

With a sigh, you slide the door open, and Sukuna pads in without hesitation, holding his “gift” with careful precision. He sits down, tails swishing in slow, deliberate arcs as he places the small bird at your feet, staring up with an unreadable expression. To anyone else, it might look like nothing more than a blank stare, but you know the slight twitch of his ears, the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes; he’s awaiting approval, maybe even the smallest hint of admiration.

“Kitty...” you say softly, doing your best to keep your tone gentle as you crouch down. “You can’t just go around killing birds. Poor thing…”

He doesn’t even blink, instead leaning forward to nudge the bird a little closer to your feet, his expression unchanging. It’s obvious that to him, he’s just presented you with the finest treasure in the world, and his eyes watch you intently, as if to say, Look. I brought this for you.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to give him a light scratch behind his ears. “Alright,” you murmur, smiling. “Thank you, Sukuna. I appreciate the thought.”

His ear flicks, but he keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on something in the corner, clearly trying to play off his satisfaction with a haughty air. But the tell-tale rumble that vibrates from his chest gives him away, and the second pair of his eyes flutter closed in contentment, clearly soaking up the affection even as he tries to pretend otherwise.

Just when you think he’s done, he prowls around the room, circling, casting occasional glances your way like he’s assessing whether his “gift” has truly pleased you. And each time he looks over, you feel a warm flicker of affection. In his own strange, sometimes intense way, Sukuna’s just trying to show he cares—just as any other cat might with an unfortunate, feathery offering.

Finally, he stops, tails flicking with contentment as he settles at your feet, looking rather smug, as if his job here is complete. And despite the unusual nature of his gesture, you can’t help but feel a warm gratitude, reaching down to pat his head.

“Thank you, tiger,” you say again, and he gives a tiny, almost invisible nod before closing his eyes, sinking comfortably beside you, his massive form nearly curled protectively around you.

[http-shield]

dilf?- bucky barnes

"Hey, sweetheart." Bucky croons at you as a muscular arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into the side of his body. A light kiss is pressed to your cheek in greeting as you snuggle into the side of the super soldier.

You turn to face him, eyes bright and beaming as you look up at your mission partner. It has been six long months of no Bucky and god, did you miss him. Something is different, you squint your eyes as you try to pin point the difference. Eyes the same, arm the same, muscular build that has your cheeks blushing, the same, hair slightly longer than before and not as brown. Grey. There are strands of grey within his hair, albeit no more than a few but they are there.

You blink up at him, starring at the discoloured strands before refocusing on his face. Not a single line marked his skin, not by his eyes or forehead, nothing to indicate he is ageing other than those silver streaks.

"What?" he asks, smirking.

You reach a hand up, fingers combing through tousled tresses.

"You're getting old." You don't mean for it to come out like that like it is a bad thing; in fact, it is far from. Growing old is a luxury that not many people have, not something Bucky has gotten to have, so knowing that he is ageing means he is living, enjoying life, and enjoying that process that everyone is desperate to stop or reverse.

"That's the first thing you say to me?" he chuckles, digging his fingers into your side. "Where are the manners of the kids these days?"

You squirm against his grip, trying to escape his assault on your waist, but you're firmly locked against him.

"That isn't a bad," you try to explain through giggles. “You're turning into a DILF; that's a good thing!"

Bucky stops and looks at you, utterly confused at the foreign word. "DILF?"

"Daddy I'd like to fuck."

"Please don't call me that." He sighs, finally releasing you from his embrace, his cheeks blazing red.

"Why not? It suits the new you."

"Because I'm not a dad. Why would you call me a dilf? If anything, I'd be a ....." he trails off as he struggles to find the right word.

"I can make you one if you want." you smirk at him, waggling your eyebrows.

"Make me a what? A new kind of name?"

"No, Buck. I can make you a father."

"How.."

You sigh, watching as the joke flies right over his head only to come back and smack him in the face two seconds later. These six months apart have really done numbers on him.

"Ohh," Bucky smirks at your unchanged humour. "You're getting too slick, kid." He wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you back against him.

"You can make me even slicker if you want"

"Jesus Christ, are you ever not on!"

[sttoru]

‘toji doesn’t know how to properly give aftercare — nor did he care to do so before. but, meeting you changed his ways of thinking.’

☀︎｜toji fushiguro x female reader. suggestive; fluff, comfort, angst. established relationship. hint of an age gap between toji and reader. mention of virgin!reader. mention of toji’s previous / past wife. grumpy sad dilf toji who learns how to love again t_t. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl’. self indulgent? yessir.

toji grunts and his exhausted body collapses to the side, careful not to crush you underneath his burly figure. he drapes one arm over his eyes with the other resting near his side. his eyelids felt heavy — clearly needing some rest after hours of continuous bodily satisfaction.

he had gone a bit overboard this once. even toji himself was feeling the aftermath since his muscles were aching and his brain was telling him to go to sleep. the assassin was about to, however his ears picked up on a little muffled whimper sounding from beside him.

“mmph,” you sniff. your face was still buried in the pillow below you — your tears and drool staining the material. your limbs were trembling and you were completely and utterly spent. you couldn’t even turn around to lay on your back; it was all just too much.

toji watches you with an unchanging expression for a second. normally for him this would be the part where he’d get the money, dress himself back up and leave through the front door with a small ‘thanks for your time’ comment.

but, that was his past. that was after the death of his wife and before he had met you — that was a dark time where he sought money in any kind of way to ease the hidden guilt and pain in his body. he’d sleep with women for a pay check. and maybe also to simply forget about his miserable life.

toji thought that he wouldn’t ever love himself nor another person again after his life went downhill. though, that thought was proven wrong by you.

you were a girl whom he had met on numerous occasions by accident to the point you decided to exchange phone numbers. you had also eventually started to help toji with his son - megumi - during tough times.

a sweet young woman: that’s what you were and still are in his eyes. maybe you were the change toji needed. the miracle to heal from his past and get himself together.

“hey,” the dark-haired man speaks up in a gruff tone after taking in your weak state. he felt a faint twinge of guilt deep within him since he was the reason you ended up like that. perhaps he took it too far.

you looked up at toji through half-closed and watery eyes. all you could do was tiredly hum in response, “mhm?”

silence follows. it’s not really awkward, but there was a barely noticeable sense of insecurity radiating from the assassin. for the first time in a good while.

toji’s eyes dart around the room in hopes of finding or seeing something that would remind him of what to do in such a situation. aftercare; he knew how important that is after sex, but had forgotten how to properly execute it. he hadn’t done so in a good few years.

that could also be an excuse. maybe he was simply afraid to show any kind of affection to someone again. maybe.

despite all of it — despite all those complex thoughts and feelings — his body moved on its own command. toji shifted closer to your side, rough hand slowly reaching out to give you some head pats. that’s the best he could do for now.

“heh.” you chuckle, yet felt extremely happy that toji had shown any type of affection toward you in such a vulnerable moment. his fingers massaging your scalp gently, over and over, was enough of a sign for you. a sign that he cares.

you knew all about his hard life; past and present. you accepted toji for who he was and what he has done and does. one of the only people who’d stay by his side throughout it all.

“thanks, toji.” the words that left your lips made the older man silently nod. his touch grew a bit more confident after your positive reaction. his hand traveled down to the nape of your neck and over to your shoulder, turning you around so you could lay comfortably on your back.

toji couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across your gorgeous skin. even if it was sweaty and covered in other bodily fluids, it still was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in his entire life.

“you okay?” he asks to which you give a weary nod. she’s far from okay judging by the looks of it, toji thought to himself.

he hesitantly leans his head down to plant a quick kiss on your shoulder. that did feel a bit awkward, though it turned loving the more you positively reinforced him with your verbal reactions.

toji sighs as he tries his best to keep you as comfortable as possible around him. his hands grab you by your sides and he hoists you up onto his lap, gently pushing your head against his chest; “c’mere my little girl.”

you happily accept the affection toji gives you. it wasn’t often that he’d do this after sex and you understand why. it takes a lot to heal from his previous wounds and you were there to support him throughout that journey. the fact that he was trying was enough.

“you’re nice ‘n warm,” you murmur, eyes droopy as you snuggle against toji’s bare chest. the older man chuckles at your comment and his big hands come to rest on your back to hold you in place — to give you a sense of security.

you didn’t have any regrets about tonight nor about any other night spent in bed with him. toji was the only man whom you were content with showing your body to. he’d never judge nor hurt you in any way, unlike the other more immature men in your indirect environment.

plus, you remember how unexpectedly gentle the big and scary looking man was with you during your first time a few days back. he was the perfect man for you in your eyes—in his own way.

“y’r real pretty. like a doll.”

the sudden compliment forces you awake. you blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you had heard. was it your imagination? no, it definitely sounded like toji. that deep and now almost groggy voice.

you lift your head up and lock eyes with the assassin. he was looking right back at you whilst the pad of his thumb delicately wipes some drool off your right cheek. you quietly stared at him for a good while which makes toji raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“pfft.” you let out a short laugh. you were both embarrassed and amused at the loving words that the older man had told you out of the blue. it made you feel tingly all over in a good way.

“what? did i say somethin’ weird?” toji questions as his hands slowly roam all over your body like they usually would, squeezing and rubbing longer in some spots, “i jus’ said what i observed.”

there was no hiding that lopsided grin on toji’s lips. the soft sound of your laughter was enough to make his entire body relax and give in to the warmth of the moment and the love that radiates between you two. you really were meant to be with him.

“no, no.” you shake your head after giggling. your lips find a spot on his chest to place a kiss upon in response, “it was cute.”

toji huffs at being called cute. no one had ever called him that. it didn’t really hurt his pride or ego — you could call him anything you wanted to and he wouldn’t mind. his rough hand does however give you a light smack on the ass after that.

“y’re lucky i love you, doll.” he grumbles and nuzzles his nose into your hair. the words left his lips before his brain had processed them. it was probably said subconsciously since toji doesn’t realise that he uttered the three words. the three words he usually hesitates on saying now flowing off the tongue so naturally.

you weren’t going to ruin the moment by teasing him about it. you were just happy that toji didn’t think twice before telling you that he loved you this time. it was a huge step forward in your relationship.

you simply giggle some more before placing a kiss on his lips that he instantly reciprocates.

“i love you too, toji.”

[mediacircuspod]

This scene was absolutely beautiful BUT it’s also the crux of the issue. You guys this is where the problems start. Because—because Crowley’s already cast out, he finds COMFORT in the idea that they are lonely together. “As far as he can” becoming “as far as they can” is an END to his complete “otherness” and something to appreciate, to covet, and to find solace in. He’s finally not alone.

But—and this is important.

Aziraphale does NOT feel that. He can’t.

This moment is completely and utterly devastating for Zira. He finds out he’s not damned and sure, he’s relieved. But he’s no longer “an Angel” in the way that he’s learned is right. He’s now unchangeably and forever; less holy—a concept that is dearly important to his identity. “[Going] along with heaven as far as he can” is a FAILING on his part. Not heaven’s(at least to him). There is no solace or comfort—he finds existence like that—just the two of them—achingly LONELY. And that’s just how his perspective demands to be taken. It’s the only perspective he is capable of in that moment AND after it, too.

Take into account Crowley has went from having no one AT ALL to having SOMEONE. And he puts EVERYTHING he has into it. This is not good. It’s unfair to Aziraphale. And it’s unfair to himself. On the opposite side, you have Aziraphale. Who has just went from having the ENTIRE HEAVENLY HOST, to having this SINGLE demon— who, one minute ago, Aziraphale thought would be dragging him off to hell.

And the part that aches is that this perspective hasn’t changed. Aziraphale feels like his existence is lacking because he wants so badly to be GOOD. And good is Holy. Good is heavenly. He’s the problem for having morals that are misaligned.

Spoilers for the last episode:

Aziraphale has just been given the validation that he is not only GOOD but the most HEAVENLY Angel there is, the Supreme Archangel, even. And if heavens morals are now HIS morals, then that’s EVERY PROBLEM SOLVED. With a bow even, because Crowley’s basically on heavens side anyway, he’s GOOD, isn’t he? He’s been good this whole time, so why wouldn’t heaven want him back? Reinstating him as Angel would fix everything. They can be together, and they can be good, and they can be HOLY. All Aziraphale’s conflicting emotions about loving Crowley can be packed away because Crowley will be perfect again—and surely Crowley wants to be perfect—wants to be forgiven.(sorry everyone, that hurt me too, oof) Aziraphale is SHOCKED by Crowley’s refusal. He’s devastated that his version of perfect is treated as something naive and distasteful.

Crowley’s devastated too. He’s just lost “their side”. A concept that for 5000+ years has been THE ONLY THING he puts love into besides his car and perhaps his plants(And humanity, but he’ll never admit to that—I’m looking at the “No more dying” scene). Crowley is constantly being devastated by Aziraphale. He’s “too fast”, he’s too evil, he’s too good sometimes. Crowley has always been TOO MUCH. But this is different because for four years, he’s had “them”(on their own side) without the hiding, and without the denial and without Aziraphale constantly putting former jobs between them. PLUS he has a mountain of trauma centered around the concept of “forgiveness”, so that’s not great considering Aziraphale’s last words to him(THAT HE HASNT SAID ALL SEASON EVEN WHEN HE MADE CROWLEY APOLOGIZE IN THE FIRST EPISODE, AHHHHH). He’s losing everything and he’s desperate: Why isn’t he enough, hasn’t he been enough these last 4 years? Hasn’t HE been enough the last 6000?

Aziraphale has always been enough for Crowley. But being enough for Crowley doesn’t fix how Aziraphale has never been enough for himself, not since Job. He looks at this offer as a chance for HIM to be enough, and for Crowley to be FORGIVEN. Crowley looks at it as a betrayal because it’s Aziraphale saying Crowley ISNT enough, and he NEVER has been.

But that’s not what Aziraphale is saying. He’s saying, “Let me fix it for you”. Crowley is hearing, “Let me fix you for it.” Two completely different and completely horrifying concepts.

And then Crowley needs to say HIS piece(oh my gosh, btw, this was heartbreaking).

“Let’s be together on our terms” is basically what I’ve distilled it down to. But Aziraphale hears, “Let’s run away from our problems”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to run away, and Crowley doesn’t want to change who he is.

They both want to be together so badly but they don’t understand why they each want it so differently. And Aziraphale can’t compromise because he’s brainwashed and LOATHES himself. And Crowley can’t compromise because he’s traumatized and LOVES Aziraphale just as he is. Crowley doesn’t want to be good on heavens terms. He can see Heaven for what it is; “toxic”. He hates heaven not only for what the Host did to him, but for HOW THEY TREATED Aziraphale.

They both don’t understand each other because for all the pleading and presenting and monologuing, they never once in that whole conversation, actually talked.

[salemlunaa]

TO CHANGE REALITIES YOU MUST IGNORE THE 3D ᥫ᭡

ITS HARD PUT YOU GOTTA PUSH THROUGH

Don’t bug, your girl is back!! (iykyk)

When it comes to shifting and manifesting, I know the 3D can be hard when it’s in your face but you have to push that barrier. Being told that nothing comes easy in this world has wired our brains to believe that manifesting and shifting cannot be this easy. But we have to break that barrier to getting in to our god state. I must preface that the 3D is just a physical plane it’s not your enemy and it’s not end all, be all. The 3D is just utterly irrelevant, and i’m not saying that in a negative way, it’s simply just irrelevant because the only reality is your imagination. The 3D is malleable and dormant and only reflects what the 4D is dominant in.

once you accept it in the 4D with out any inch of doubt the 3D will have no choice to conform, you can change the 3D without the 4D, the 3D isn't real and is just a mirror for the 4D, without focusing on the 4D the 3D remains untouchable and unchanged. So you must move your focus to the 4D instead of obsessing over the 3D.

Let me give you an analogy, let’s say you’re going out with a friend and you look in the mirror and see that the yellow top you’re wearing doesn’t look as good as you wanted and you would like to change into your green top, you’re not going to try and change the mirror, trying to put your hand through the mirror to change your outfit or hitting the mirror and crying because your top hasn’t changed, because you’re gonna look really stupid aren’t you? You would change yourself, you would go to the closet and change self and then when you have changed into your green top the mirror will also reflect that you are wearing your green top. The 3D is JUST a mirror that will only change once you have changed self and accepted your new reality. That’s it. That’s what manifesting and shifting is, not all this complicated nonsense, you are just changing self.

so yes you did go to the void and wake up in your dream reality and YOURE SO HAPPY, feel and think as if. Idc if you woke up in the bed of your shitty “reality” because it’s not real, you have no place there you are a void/manifesting MASTER and anything you say goes.

CHANGE SELF + FORGET THE REST = SHIFTING BEING EASY AS FUCK 🐅💋

[lokisgoodgirl]

Open Skies [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's first time flying the Quinjet is a memorable one. Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Silly things. Mutual pining. Oral (M). (w/c 2.2k)

Tony dangled the key between his thumb and forefinger. The fob swung in front of Loki’s smirking face. “To Virginia, and back again,” Tony said. He was not in the mood for games. Loki’s eyebrows shot up. He pressed his fingers to his chest in mock-hurt before extending the cup of his palm out, fingers unfolding with a graceful flourish. “I need to learn, Stark..." he postured innocently. “The simulations only go so far. You know that.”

“And you’ll behave?” Loki rolled his eyes. “What egregious sin could I possibly commit with your garish vessel while under the watchful eye of our trustworthy Agent here?” he said, flicking a finger towards you. “Is that not why she has been chosen for this farce? To keep me in line? To make sure I don’t damage this metal substitute for masculinity?” Tony’s eyes darted in an aborted eye-roll. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, observing Loki with suspicion. “It should only take you twenty minutes- if that,” he said, tossing the fob in the air. The god caught it. Loki let you walk ahead up the ramp. The weight of his stare clung to your ass like wet paint as you made your way to the front of the craft and slid into the passenger seat. He paused, giving both headrests a squeeze as he observed the screens. You watched his profile stiffen, a swallow working his neck. For all his breezy pomposity, he was nervous. “Just like the simulator,” you said, “you’ll be fine.” Loki's face remained unchanged by your re-assurance. He cleared his throat, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater; the one with the Avengers logo that he swore the first time he saw it that he would never wear.

He manoeuvred himself into the driver’s seat. “Is he watching?” he asked quietly. You pressed the screen, making the rear camera pop up. Tony stood below the under-hang of the landing area, arms folded. “Right..." Loki said, lips pursing.

He ran his palms down the tight chinos creased to his thighs. One long finger tentatively pressed against the central screen.

In a matter of seconds, the Quinjet’s engines fired to life. Loki flinched. His fingers flexed before their length curled around the lever sitting between you. He pushed it into elevate. "Thirty-five-thousand feet..." Loki murmured to himself, pressing a series of buttons on the screen.

He reached up, pressing an intercom above his head.

"This is Loki Laufeyson, Avengers Unit, Stark Tower," he said, gazing out the huge window at the skyscrapers.

His voice made goose-bumps ripple on your skin. It massaged over the syllables like crude oil over glass, thick and utterly erotic in its uniform sincerity. “Lifting off - flightpath expected from New York City to above Richmond, Virginia. No target, no landing. Training exercise, thirty-five thousand feet. Copy?”

He released the button. Static hummed. Loki’s fingers readjusted around the lever. “Copy, Mr Laufeyson." the radio crackled. "Clear for take-off. Route mapped. Any changes, let us know.”

Loki let out a small, satisfied sigh. He shot you a weak smile. “Good?” he asked. You nodded. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, delicate strands falling around his face. It framed his cheekbones perfectly. “Try not to be too aroused by my piloting-skills, Agent,” Loki goaded, turning his attention to the thrusters. “I have been practising very hard to make it seem effortless.” He pressed several more buttons without a pause.

You and Loki had hooked up for several weeks just before his most recent mission. But whether it was clarity during the absence, or simply lack of interest; when he had come back no moves were made on either side. On your part, it was simple terror. Being with Loki in that way was unbelievable the first time that it had happened, never mind the seventh, eighth, ninth. Part of you didn’t want to push your luck. It had crossed your mind that he had actually forgotten. And if that was true, then you didn’t want to know.

The force of the ascent pushed you back into your seat, facing forwards. Out the corner of your eye you saw a grin stretch over the god’s face as the New York skyline became mere dots below. He yanked the lever a few more times into position, setting it in cruise. The beep of buttons and the hum of the engines were the only sounds. Ahead, there was nothing but open skies. “Well done, I’m very impressed,” you said with a smile, shifting to face him. The seatbelt dug into your shoulder. Without realising, you had set a hand to rest on his thigh. The two of you looked at it, eyes rising to meet. One of Loki’s brows cocked. “Agent?” he growled. “Are you trying to seduce the captain?”

You were about to deny it. But he was the god of lies, after all. In which case there was no getting around it. And even if there was – did you want to? “Yes.” you said. Loki barked a small laugh of disbelief, turning his eyes back to the wide windows. “It will take more than that, Agent.” he said, offering a small nod to the hand resting mid-way up his thigh. “Especially after giving me the cold-shoulder on my return.” Your stomach dropped. “I did no such thing-” you started, but Loki had begun to tut. It’s slow methodical click ticked over the air between you. His eyes never left the blue sky out the front of the Quinjet. “On the contrary. On my return, I came to your rooms. I left a note, and quite a suggestive one at that. I made myself quite vulnerable, actually.” You frowned. “Loki, I moved rooms like three weeks ago.” Loki pressed a finger to his forehead. “Who’s in your old one?” “Scott.” “Ah,” Loki said, grimacing. “I was wondering why he had been particularly familiar of late.” The god shot you a sheepish smile. “I may have gone into great detail about oral sex in my correspondence.” “Giving or Receiving?” “Receiving.” The two of your burst into raucous laughter.

Loki took his hands from the steering wheel, wiping a tear of mirth. “In defence of my uncouth written request, you do give the most glorious blowjobs,” he muttered, offering a tilt of his head. “And it was a very long mission. I was in desperate need of attention.” “Did you ever get it?” “No. Although in hindsight, Lang did attempt to ease my disposition.”

You and Loki exchanged a restrained smirk before bursting into laughter again. “I feel terrible,” you said, starting to feel giddy. “I thought you weren’t into me anymore, so I just…” “Gave up without a fight?” Loki said, pressing a button and shifting the stick. “Understandable. I am rather intimidating.”

Your hand began to dance up his thigh, following the rise of his insane quad muscle. You squeezed. The fingers slid inward, brushing the growing bulge in his crotch. Loki shifted in his seat, chinos rustling. “Agent…” he warned. But his eyes sparkled.

The god’s legs widened in the generous seat. Creases ran thick across his spread thighs, the outline of his cock stark against the light fabric. It stretched up to his hip by the side of the zipper. You bit your lip as he thrust gently into your cupped hand. “We shouldn’t…” you said, tracing the length of his cock with one light finger. “No,” Loki breathed. “But we will.” The click of your seatbelt and the resulting flurry of your fingers at his buttons was instant. Loki raised one arm to let you work, lowering the tight zipper and setting his cock free with a bounce into your waiting hand. “Fuck,” he choked through ragged breaths, “Agent you don’t have to-” You looked up at him, head pressed back against the rest and the veins in his throat tightening. He had that stoic, regal set upon his features, cheekbones hard and unwavering, mouth closed as he stared at your with hungry eyes. The only thing that gave him away was the sound of small puffs of air flaring in rapid succession from his nostrils. Without looking, you could tell his knuckles were white on the wheel. One of his forearms rested on the nape of your neck.

“If you don’t think I want to suck your cock, Laufeyson,” you whispered, pausing to place a kiss on the leaking tip, “then you’re even crazier than I thought.” Loki inhaled sharply as you swallowed him. The breath caught in his throat, forcing its way back through a series of stuttering breaks that made desire thrash deep in your cunt. Fingers wrapped around the base of him, you worked slowly back and forth until his manhood was slippery with spit. Your face lowered on to the bottom of Loki’s sweatshirt with every dip of your head. Sucking wet and hot as the vein that ran the length of his cock throbbed against your tongue. There it was, that sweet saltiness pearling at the cracked creases of your lips. God, how you’d missed that. The taste of him. There was nothing like it.

Loki’s placid moans filled the cockpit. It was polite, in a way. Gentlemanly, while his slender fingers grasped delicately against your hair. You lingered at the crown, running your tongue against the sensitive underside.

Loki jolted in his seat. The Quinjet took a dive, and you froze - cushioning his glory with your tongue as the god corrected the flightpath. He chuckled, hissing as you tightened the grip of the fingers around his root and began to pump in time with your mouth. “We’ve reached-uh...g-gods, Richmond,” he stammered. His fingers grasped at your hair, knees beginning to tremble. “I’m carrying out a soft turn, bringing us one hundred and sixty degrees before returning to the original..f..f-fuckk-flightpath.” Humming approval through a mouthful of his cock, you lost yourself in the warm musk of his public hair. The metal zipper caught against your chin, grazing with every deep dive of the god into your throat. But you didn’t care. Loki’s gentle whines were all you could hear over the engines, panting praises and murmurs of lustful promises that you would hold him to when this thing landed. If it landed.

“Gods-” Loki choked, punctuated with a thump as his skull fell against the headrest. "How can you do this to me, Agent?” he gasped, rubbing your back as you quickened the pace. “You’re the best…” he moaned, hips rising to meet the bob of your jaw, “you’re the b-best I’ve ever had..I- uhh...”

The god’s fingertips dragged down your back, fist clenching and unfurling. He let out a primal grumble. “I’m going to cum, darling-” he growled. “Has anything c-changed?” You shook your head, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth and pooling in a wet patch on his chinos. Swallowing all the spit you could, you pressed your lips tighter around his girth, sucking furiously. Loki flinched with pleasure; and although you couldn’t see him, you knew his eyes were rolling back. You’d bet a few more of those slutty little curls had come loose too. Loki’s bucks were quicker now. He was trying to be restrained, but still his hips shuddered against the seat trying not to fuck your mouth with all his might. The Quinjet thrashed to the side, immediately correcting.

The god’s breaths were heavy, unintelligible filth falling from his lips and slithering into your ear as you worked him. "Good girl," he gasped, palm flying to the window my his side, "oh, f-fuck yes...good girl-vakker... just like, u-uh-" His palm slid down the window with an obscene squeak.

With a curse-littered groan, both of his arms went flying up behind the headrest. He pulled it forwards, the force of his abdomen’s clench pressing against your forehead. Loki’s hot cum hit the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the sweet tang you craved. It kept coming, spreading into every pocket of space not occupied by his meat. His groans of pleasure filled the cockpit while you swallowed - pretty little moans snaking from his throat as he rode higher than the clouds.

Your lips left the tip of his flushed member with a slurp. Loki looked at you, dazed and slut-drunk. His seed glistened at the corners of your mouth as you squeezed his cock from the base a final time. A thick ream of cum blossomed at the opening. With one finger, you scooped it off, placing it carefully on the tip of your tongue.

“How I’ve missed you,” Loki slurred before his mouth was on yours.

You could feel his tongue search your own, tasting himself on each caress, swallowing the mess that you had made of him. Breaking apart, you took a moment to appreciate just how fucked-out Loki looked. The god’s cheeks were flushed, his lips raw and pink from rough kisses; his tied-up hair was askew, one side falling down in inky tendrils across his shoulder. The sweatshirt was rumpled, and there was a spreading wet patch on those lovely cream chinos. “How long do we have?” you asked, realising that you probably didn’t look much better. Loki’s eyes flickered to the screen. “Three minutes.” he said, disappointed. As Loki nailed a perfect landing, you made a final check of yourself in the window’s reflection. His knuckles trailed gently down your bicep. “I’ll see you inside?” he asked quietly. His pupils were still bottomless pools. “At your rooms,” you smiled, fighting to contain a laugh. “Not Scott’s.” Loki nodded agreement, lips curling. “I really did wait, you know.” he said. “I know.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The two of you disembarked and Tony was waiting for the debrief exactly where you'd left him. He seemed happy with everything, by and large. But his arms remained folded. You began to make your way into the Tower. “Laufeyson. A word.” Tony barked. Loki rolled his eyes, subtly gesturing for you to go on ahead. “How’d you like her then? State of the art?” Stark hummed, gesturing to the Quinjet. Loki raised a brow. “It was perfectly fine.” Loki said. “Not ‘the best you’ve ever had’?” Tony slipped his sunglasses down his nose. Loki’s brow furrowed. “Cameras?” “Cameras,” Tony replied, tossing Loki the key-fob. “I’ll delete my evidence if you hop on back and delete your evidence with some of that magic-bleach. Deal?” “Deal.” Loki sighed.

Tags (cont in comments) @lokischambermaid @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @marygoddessofmischief @thevillainswhore @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

[seoltzuki]

Sorbet

sana x afab reader

angst, smut, (don’t steal, repost, translate)

lust, carnal, touch, cycle, it never ends…

Tonight will be the last time.

The routine remains unchanged. Every night, Sana needs you. Your presence is her anchor during her lonely evenings. This is the only time you visit her place; otherwise, she spends her days at yours.

Life feels lighter during the day, especially with the brightness you bring, filling every moment with warmth and ease.

It's a pattern, like a line tracing a circle, unbroken and predictable.

She doesn't need to call.

It's the same routine, a line tracing a circle. 

You enter her apartment and head to her bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, the lights off, but it doesn't matter. It's just late enough for the sky to be a deep navy blue, with white-yellow hues piercing through the clouds. The familiar creak of the floorboards, the soft rustle of curtains, and the faint scent of her perfume guide you. You slip inside, knowing exactly where she'll be, waiting for you in the comforting shadows.

And there she stands.

Leaning against her sturdy vanity, the glow of city lights streaming through the expansive windows, a single manicured nail between her teeth.

She looks vulnerable yet undeniably pretty, her damp hair hinting at recent time spent under the shower's spray. Despite the late hour, she's adorned in a charming dress and subtle makeup.

You've reassured her multiple times that dressing up wasn’t necessary for your visits, especially at such a late hour.

The day is over, why bother?

But she’d always persist, expressing her desire to always present her best self for you, regardless of the time, even if she had previously washed the day away.

"Sana," you murmur, drawing her attention away from the cityscape, her gaze shifting from the skyline to meet yours.

A faint twitch plays on her lips as you both remain still, simply absorbing each other’s presence.

Tonight will be the last time.

You approach her until you're face to face, her sparkling eyes fixed on you.

She begins with her hand, the nail slipping out from between her teeth. Cupping your jaw, she exhales softly, her lips pursed before she gazes out the window once more, her perfect profile coming into view. You notice the sharpness of her nose and the plumpness of her upper lip, teased by her tongue. Her thumb glides gently across your cheek as another sigh escapes her, her eyes now glassy as she looks back at you.

Not wanting to witness her unshed tears, you lean in until your noses touch, your breath mingling with hers. You wrap your arm around her waist, and her other arm loops around your neck, drawing you closer.

She’s the one who initiates the kiss, her lips gently interlocking with yours, the touch so tender, so deliberate.

Her hand lingers on your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, while the other finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if trying to bridge any distance that might remain between you.

It’s unhurried and slow. Like it’s always been between you two.

There’s never a rush, since it never ends.

Another kiss follows, lingering and sweet, before she playfully teases your lower lip with a lick before parting from you. Her lipstick is already smudged, but she looks so incredibly beautiful.

A soft whine escapes her lips as you squeeze her waist, a silent plea for more. Slowly, she begins to undress you, her movements gentle. With careful hands, she removes your shirt and pants, leaving you standing in your undergarments, vulnerable yet utterly desired in her eyes.

She leans back against the vanity to recompose herself, her breath uneven. It's crazy how much you affect her, how a simple kiss and the sight of your nearly bare body leaves her dizzy with want. She eyes you up and down with a tilted head, a small pout on her lips.

You say her name again, reaching out for her hand. She takes it willingly, pressing a tender kiss to its palm before meeting your gaze.

“Switch. I want you to lean on the vanity,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, but commanding.

You do as she says, turning to lean against the vanity, the cool wood pressing against your skin. Sana steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. She runs her hands down your shoulders and along your arms, sending shivers through you. Her touch is light, teasing, making you crave more.

Her fingers brush against the necklace you wear, a simple chain with an old promise ring hanging from it—the ring she gave you long ago. She doesn’t comment on it, but her fingers linger, playing with the ring, the gesture filled with unspoken emotion.

Then, they trace down your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She pauses at your waistband, her eyes locking with yours once more, silently asking for permission.

When you nod, she slowly peels away your undergarments, her hands steady and sure. The air feels electric between you, each movement filled with anticipation. Once you’re completely bare, she steps back slightly, admiring you with an intense gaze.

“Stay just like that,” she breathes. Her lips brush against your collarbone, trailing along your skin. Her hands roam your body, exploring every curve, while her kisses become more insistent, more demanding.

There's nowhere else to be now; you let everything else melt away. Her fingers still playing with the promise ring, she sinks to her knees, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her eyes…

They’re locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. She takes her time, her hands gently parting your thighs, her touch both reverent and possessive. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the waves rushing in.

She always insists on being the first to bring you pleasure, relishing in the way your body reacts to her, savoring the way you come undone beneath her touch.

Your taste, your sounds, the way you feel… gosh, she drips for you.

But it’s not just about the physical connection for her; it’s about holding onto the moment, controlling the narrative so her own thoughts don’t consume her.

She begins with a soft kiss, just above your most sensitive area, her lips brushing lightly against your skin. She moves slowly, her kisses deliberate and teasing, each one sending a ripple of pleasure through you. Her tongue follows, a slow, sensual lick that makes you gasp, the sensation both electrifying and maddening.

Sana takes her time, savoring every moment. Her tongue moves with exquisite slowness, tracing patterns that drive you wild. She alternates between gentle, teasing flicks and deeper, more insistent strokes, her mouth working you with a carnal hunger that leaves you breathless. She moans softly against you, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure.

Her hands are not idle; they grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as she devours you. Her fingers occasionally dig into your flesh, a reminder of her control, of the pleasure she’s giving and withholding in equal measure. She moves with a rhythm that is both patient and relentless, drawing out your pleasure precision.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of her mouth on you. Each touch, each lick, is designed to bring you closer to the edge, and she never lets up, never rushes, savoring your reactions, feeding off your pleasure.

She takes you to the brink and holds you there, drawing out your pleasure, making every second feel endless.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and you see the raw desire in them. When you finally can’t hold back any longer, she takes you over the edge with a slow, sensual suck, her tongue never stopping its dance.

It’s like an explosion, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Sana still doesn’t stop, her tongue and lips working you through your climax, prolonging your pleasure until you’re trembling over her. She slows only when you do, her movements becoming tender, soothing, as you come down from the high.

A teasing flick of her tongue on your clit makes you finally look down at her. She lingers, placing soft kisses on your trembling skin. Her eyes are dark with satisfaction, her lips glistening. She moves back up your body, her hands and lips trailing a path until she pushes her face into your neck, pulling you into a warm embrace.

Her own breath is heavy, the fabric of her dress scratching against your bare chest. You can feel her satisfaction, the way she revels in your release; her hands still caressing your sides, nails barely even digging into you….

She savors the moment, knowing it will help her find peace, if only for a little while.

“You always taste so good,” she breathes against your skin. “You’re just… so good, so perfect…” Her words trail off into a low moan, the intensity of her longing evident in every syllable.

Sana brings her fingers to you, gently gathering your arousal before slowly bringing them to your lips. Her eyes lock onto yours, intense and filled with a mix of lust and affection. She leans in, her breath hot against your skin as she watches your reaction closely.

“Go on,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “Taste yourself.”

You part your lips, letting her fingers slip inside. The taste of yourself mingles with the remnants of her touch, and the intimacy of the act sends another wave of heat through your body. Sana’s eyes darken, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“See? So good,” she breathes, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep, languid kiss, sharing the taste between you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a melding of tongues and lips.

As she pulls away, she continues to gaze at you with that same intense look, her fingers still resting lightly against your lips. “You’re perfect,” she repeats, her voice filled with sincerity and a hint of awe.

“I wanna go again,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice laced with longing, her teeth grazing your lower lip. “Please, I can’t get enough of you.”

She knows that by extending the night, she can have you for a little while longer. And if she’s the last to climax, sleep will come easier, shielding her from her own thoughts and the bittersweet sight of you leaving in the early morning light.

“After I get to make you feel good,” you say softly, voice promising, as you lean in closer. “I know you’re aching.”

Sana’s eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of need and something else. She gently takes your hand, guiding you towards the bed. Instead of lying down together, she gives you a gentle push, urging you to recline on the bed. You settle back, propped up on your elbows, watching her intently.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Sana reaches behind her to unzip her dress. The fabric slips down her shoulders, revealing more of her smooth, bare skin. She maintains eye contact, her gaze smoldering with desire as she peels the dress away, inch by tantalizing inch. The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie, which she soon discards as well.

You can hardly breathe as you take in the sight of her, every curve, every line of her body illuminated in the soft light of the sky. Sana steps closer, her movements slow and sensual, crawling onto the bed to straddle your lap. Her hands move to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hips as she positions you comfortably beneath her.

“I want to make you feel just as good,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Let me take care of you.”

She leans in, her lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss. She arches into you, her breath hitching as your touch becomes more insistent, your desire to bring her pleasure driving you forward.

You flip over and hover over Sana, holding your weight on your arms as you watch her, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen from your kisses. She gazes up at you with the same intensity. Her hands caress your back, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

Her eyes drift to the dangling necklace between you two, the old promise ring catching the light. Something unknown flashes in her eyes, but it quickly transforms into something carnal. She leans up, her nails digging into your back, and wraps her teeth around the ring, gently tugging it with a smirk.

The sight sends a rush of heat through you, and you lower yourself just enough to brush your lips against hers, teasingly slow. Her breath hitches, and she releases the ring, her hands trailing up to cradle your face as she pulls you into a deeper kiss, her body arching into yours.

You both roll your hips into each other, the friction between you spreading wetness and igniting a fire that burns hotter with each movement. Sana’s breath becomes shallow as she grinds against you, her desire evident in the way she responds to your touch.

Suddenly, she flips you over again, her movements fluid and confident. She straddles your lap, her body poised above yours as she looks down at you with a hunger in her eyes.

With a sultry smile, Sana takes one of your hands and brings your fingers to her lips, sucking them into her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. You watch, captivated, as she swirls her tongue around your fingers, each flick sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. Her eyes never leave yours, dark pools of desire that draw you in deeper with each passing moment.

The sensation of her mouth on your fingers is electrifying, as she takes you deeper into her mouth.

With each movement, each caress of her tongue, you feel yourself growing more aroused, the desire pooling low in your belly. You can’t tear your eyes away from her, mesmerized by the way she devours you with such passion and intensity.

As she releases your fingers with a soft pop, a wicked glint dances in her eyes. “God, I want your fingers inside me,” she huffs. “Please, baby.”

Her words ignite a fire within you, and without hesitation, your hands roam over her body, caressing every inch of her skin as you bring your lips to her chest, kissing and teasing her nipples with your tongue.

Sana moans softly, her breath hitching as your fingers trail down between her thighs, feeling the wetness that awaits you. You slide your fingers inside her, feeling her slick walls tighten around you, welcoming you with a delicious heat.

She gasps, her hips beginning to roll against your hand, matching the rhythm of your movements. “Yes, that’s it!” she whines. “Make me feel good.”

You suck gently on her nipples, your tongue flicking against the sensitive buds as you continue to move your fingers within her. Sana’s moans grow louder, her body trembling with pleasure as she rides your fingers, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she loses herself in the sensations you’re giving her. “Oh, god,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

In her ecstasy, Sana reaches down and grabs onto the necklace hanging between you, pulling it taut. The ring dangles between your faces.

She tugs on it, bringing your lips closer to hers. “This… this means you should be mine,” she cries, her voice edged with a desperate plea.

You feel her tightening around your fingers, her release drawing near. With each stroke, you push her closer to the edge, her body shuddering in your arms.

Her hips move with an urgent rhythm, grinding against your hand, desperate for more. You add another finger, stretching her, filling her, making her moan even louder. “Yes, yes,” she pants, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of love and lust.

“Rock with me. I won’t let go,” you murmur, reassuringly.

Sana’s breath catches, her hands find your shoulders, her grip tightening as she leans into you, her hips switching to a slow, rhythmic dance. “I need you,” she sobs. “I need you so much.”

I don’t want this night to be the last time, y/n.

Your free hand trails up her back, pulling her even closer as you feel the pressure building within her. Her wetness coats your fingers, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge. You can feel the urgency in her movements, the way she grinds against you, desperate for release.

With a breathless whimper, Sana tugs on the necklace again, the chain pressing into your skin as she pulls you nearer. The sensation drives you wild, a physical reminder of the hold she has on you.

“Don’t stop, oh my god,” she pleads, her voice breaking with emotion. “Please, don’t stop.”

You respond by quickening the pace, your fingers moving faster within her as you continue to kiss and suckle at her breasts. Her moans grow louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.

“Let go for me, my angel,” you whisper, teeth sinking into her skin.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Sana’s body tenses, her release crashing over her in waves. She clings to you, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides out the pleasure, her cries filling the room.

As she nestles into you, her breathing slowing, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction and guilt. “I won’t let go,” you repeat softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, savoring the closeness and the warmth of her body against yours.

You feel her grip on the necklace tighten, her fingers lingering on the ring. “I know you’ll leave in the morning,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. “You always do.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of sadness gnawing at your heart. “Sana…”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice growing softer, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Just stay with me tonight. Let’s pretend everything is perfect, just for a few more hours.”

You nod, pulling her closer, feeling her body relax against you. Her breathing becomes more even, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifts off to sleep mid-sentence. “I love you,” she murmurs, barely audible, before sleep takes her completely.

You hold her tight, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. The room is silent except for her soft, steady breathing. You know the morning light will bring reality crashing back down, the cycle continuing, the line drawing a circle, and the pain of parting will return.

If she truly wanted to break the cycle, she would invite you over during the day, saving your pleasure for last.

She would love you the way she’s supposed to.

Tonight was never gonna be the last night.

[rescue-ram]

There's a handful of lines that actually stuck with me in the MASH novels, but the one I like best is roughly "Hawkeye had feared Trapper at home would be exactly like Trapper in the army, and was relieved to find that wasn't so." Because that's such a delightfully nuanced view of someone- where I met them in one setting and I love them but I hope to God I never see them like this again and am relieved to find them utterly different than I remember.

And I was thinking the inverse would be an interesting angle on the BJ and Hawkeye friendship axis- Hawkeye assumes BJ is different at home than he is at war, and is shocked to find him unchanged...