#because I'm entirely willing and eager to do it

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[rooster-the-love-of-my-life]

Idiots At a Wedding pt1

Summary: Pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family had to be easy right? Right...??

Pairings: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Warnings: slight unholy thoughts, self pitying, oblivious idiots

A/N: Tell a friend to tell a friend SHES BACKKK!!! I know it's been so long since I posted but I'm finally back, and this time I've tried something different. So please be kind and don't be a stranger. Enjoy!!!!

series masterlist || part 2

"Hey Bob, you got a date for the wedding yet?"

The whole squad was gathered around Rooster and Hangman's coffee table in their shared apartment, having their ritualistic Friday night dinner when Phoenix asked her backseater the question. After the success of your mission, you all were asked to stay back and become a part of a special task force led by Maverick. Everyone jumped on the opportunity, eager to see what the future held and delighted to see it with friends.

Bob, who as usual was sitting on the floor near the edge of the coffee table, snapped his head up upon hearing his name. "No, not yet." He mumbled with delicious chinese food stuffed in his mouth.

"What wedding?" You jumped into the conversation, eyes moving between Bob and Phoenix from the couch you were sat on, curious to know what they were talking about.

"Of course that piques your interest." Hangman butted in, putting a peace of chicken in his mouth. "The entire night you've been awfully quiet and suddenly when you hear the word wedding you almost burst out of your seat out of excitement."

"Shut up Jake." You rolled your eyes, shoving him with your left elbow, getting a soft grunt out of him. "Did your mama never teach you to not talk with your mouth full?"

"You didn't say anything to Bob when he did it." The blonde argued.

"What wedding?" You asked again, completely ignoring the man on your left, laser focused on finding out who was getting married and when.

Ever since you were a child, weddings had always been your favorite, maybe it was because of all the free food or maybe it was because of how good everyone looked. Nevertheless, weddings were your favorite thing in the world, and hearing someone from your squad was going to a wedding just excited you to the core.

"My younger sisters getting married next week." Bob explained. "I'm supposed to be the best man at the wedding."

"And supposed to bring a date." Phoenix added, nudging him with her knee as if to send him some secret message no one else understood.

"That too." He added, face a little flushed. "Haven't found anyone willing to go with me yet, so I guess I'll just have to endure my mama's wrath. Nothing I haven't handled before."

"Did you even ask anyone?" Coyote asked.

"No." Bob whispered as Natasha groaned in frustration.

"I told him weeks ago to ask someone but he still hasn't done it. Do you really want Mrs. Floyd to kill you?"

"She isn't going to kill me if I don't bring a date right." Bob said with confidence which wavered the second Phoenix raised an eyebrow and gave him a look which clearly said otherwise. "Right?"

"Talking from experience of having a Texan mother myself, I can assure you she won't kill you. But there is no way in hell she's ever letting you live it down." Jake added, trying to console Bob but failing miserably.

Bob groaned, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "What am I gonna do?"

"I'll go with you." You offered with out skipping a beat to no one's surprise. You were always one to jump on the opportunity to help someone, it was almost as if you were put on this earth for the sole reason of helping people. So when you offered to help Bob out, no one was supried. "I'll go to the wedding with you, I love weddings. Besides, Maverick has been begging me to use my vacation days, so I'll finally get to do that to."

"Yo-you don't have to." Bob stuttered out his words, looking down at his plate, the red blush creeping over to his ears.

"No I want to. I love weddings and I would love to meet your family too, you always talk about them so fondly." You repeated, smiling so brightly at Bob he feared he might be blinded by you.

"You don't have to Sunny, really. You don't have to come out of pity or anything."

"I'm not offering out of pitty." You reassured him with a soft smile. "I have no problem accompanying you to your sisters wedding. Unless you don't want me to of course." You added quickly, not having taken Bob's wishes into consideration.

"No no, it's not that. It just that I-" Bob started but you quickly stopped him, over taken by excitement.

"It's settled than, I'm going to the wedding with you." You said gleefully, getting up from your seat and towards the kitchen to get yourself a drink.

The night went on, everyone chatted normally and stuffed themselves full of food until they couldn't breath. For the rest of the night, your spirits were higher than ever. You were already known to be the yapper of the group, but now no one could get you to stop talking. On the other hand, Bob got eerily quiet, more quiet than he had ever been before, almost as if he was having a mini existential crisis in his head.

By ten it was time for everyone to go back to their homes. Having said your goodbyes, you were walking towards your car in the parking lot when Bob called out your name from behind you, jogging slightly to catch up to you.

"Hey, what's up?" You asked, leaning against your car as the blue eyed man approached you.

"I um, I wanted to talk to you about the wedding." He said, stuffing his hands inside his jacket as chilly winds rose up in the air.

"I'm so excited. You'll have to text me all the details." You replied, adrenalin pumping through you.

"It's not about that." He cleared his throat, looking down at the ground, clearly uncomfortable.

"Is everything okay? Did I say something wrong? Should I have not offered in front of every-"

"No no, it's not that. Not that at all." He quickly stopped you. "It's just that, my mother's a bit too much. She always nags me about everything and at times it gets a bit unbearable. A couple of months ago she was complaining about me not dating and was about to set me up with the daughter of someone from her bookclub. So to get her off my back and save myself from embarrassment I kind of told her that I'm already seeing someone else and now she expects me to bring that someone to the wedding."

You couldn't believe your ears as Bob's confession filtered out of his mouth. He had lied to his mother and told her he had a girlfriend when in reality he hadn't been out on a date in almost a year. And now his mother was expecting him to bring the woman who stole her son's heart to the big wedding and you had just accidently signed up to be that woman.

"So that means-" You started slowly, still processing what you had just heard.

"If you come to the wedding with me she'll think you're my girlfriend." Bob finished the sentence for you, red faced from his confession. "You can say no now if you want to."

You looked up at the man standing in front of you, looking like a puppy in the rain, and something inside of you just could not let you say no to him.

"It's fine Bob, I'll still go with you." You whispered, as Bob's head snapped up, staring at you with hope and nervousness.

"Really? But everyone would think you're my girlfriend. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable or feel as if you're obliged to say yes."

"No, I-I want to. I mean what kind of a friend would I be if I don't help you out in a tough situation." You said, giving him a soft smile.

"Oh thank god." He sighed, shoulders visibly relaxing. "Thank you, I know I've put you in a tough spot, but thank you so much for helping. I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably get a beating from my mama for lying to her at the ripe age of thirty."

"It's alright Bob, you don't need to thank me." You out your hand on his arm to get him to calm down and stop his rambling. "You can text me the details tommrow okay. For now just go get some rest, we'll figure it all out later."

With that you both went back to your apartments to get some well needed rest. But from the second you got into your car, your mind kept thinking about what you'd just done. Anyone who knew you could always rely on you to help them out id they were ever in a though spot, but this was a bit too much, even by your standards. Part of you thought it was just because you were desperate to go to a wedding, but deep down inside you knew the real reason. You would do anything for him, anything for Bobby.

----------------------------

Bob Floyd was freaking out. He was absolutely losing his mind, pacing back in forth in his apartment, flipping out in front of his best friend.

"Oh my god, what have I just done." He said, grabbing his head with both of his hands, still pacing. "What have I just done? What have I done Nat?"

"Hey, hey, calm down." She said, moving forward on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees. "Stop pacing, I'm getting vertigo just from watching you."

That made Bob instantly stop and stare at her with wide eyes and disheveled hair, waiting for her to continue.

"Now, listen to me carefully." Natasha started. "You haven't done anything wrong, you've just asked a girl to be your date. A girl you've had a stupid high school crush on for forever."

Bob blushed immediately upon hearing Nat talk about his crush on you. It wasn't much of a secret that he liked you. He had liked you from the moment he first saw you at the hard deck, laughing and playing pool with the rest of the squad, looking like an absolute dream. Since that moment, he looked at you with so much yearing that it didn't even take Phoenix a week to figure out her backseater was smitten by you.

You were the absolute opposite of Bob, extroverted, loud spoken, so vibrant, always the life of the party, always ready to lend people a hand even if you had just known them for a few hours, the literal embodiment of you callsign, Sunshine. Bob was someone who lived in the shadows, keeping to himself, and speaking only when spoken to. When you entered his life, it was as if he was taken by a storm, he had never seen someone so exuberant in his life and yet here you stood, as real as real gets.

"You just have to keep your cool and spend the week with her. Then you can go back to pining from afar. All the while pretending to be in love with her and hoping she'll give a convincing performance as well." She finished, adding the last part awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck, finally realizing that Bob may have landed himself in a sticky situation.

"Keep my cool?" Bob said, scoffing loudly. "Keep my cool, I can't even keep myself sane around her for an hour how do you expect me to be around her for a week?"

He slumped into one of the arm chairs, massaging his temple, clearly stressed. Natasha knew he was right, he couldn't even spend an hour with you and here he was, about to convince his whole family that you were in love.

"That's not even the worst part." Bob added, sounding defeated. "The worst part is that the whole time we're going to pretend to be in love, it's all going to be an act for her, but not for me. Not for stupid Bobby." He slapped himself hard on the back of his head as if to reprimand himself.

"Hey, stop it." Phoenix said, getting up from her seat, having had enough of Bob's defeatist attitude. "You are not going to be pitying yourselves, not on my watch. Now, what you are going to do is man the fuck up. You've liked the girl for forever, what could go wrong if you just told her?"

"She could hear me." Bob mumbled, being completely ignored by Natasha.

"And this trip is the perfect way to do it. You take her to the wedding, woo her with your country charm and bam she's yours." Natasha declared, standing in front of Bob with her hands on her hip.

"Um, no. I'm pretty sure it'll be more like bam she never speaks to me again." Bob mumbled. "And what country charm? My sisters inherited all the charm. She's going to realize this the second she meets them and figure out how big of a loser I really am."

"Bob, believe me when I say this, she does not think you're a loser. You're amazing guy, you don't need any country charm, you just need to be yourself. I get it can be scary telling someone you like them, but there are some points in your life you just have to take a chance and this is it. If she likes you back, it'll be the best thing that ever happened to you."

"And if she doesn't?" Bob whispered.

"Then it's her loss."

--------------------------------

For the first time in his life, Bob finally understood why Garfield hates Mondays so much. The dreaded day was finally here, you were leaving for Texas on the afternoon flight and were going to return back on Sunday evening. A full week later.

Bob was sure he was going to die. Or spontaneously combust. Or throw up. Or all of those in that particular order- which would be weird- but definitely something that was going to happen. The coming week was going to be a torment, a humiliation ritual for him. Not only is he going to have to be glued to you the entire time, he has also got to pretend to be in a relationship with you.

Pretending wasn't the hard part, he had pretend to be a lot of things he wasn't in his life. No, the hard part was going to be making it seem convincing. Enough to fool his hawk eyed mother.

You on the other hand did not know what to feel. You were excited to be attending a wedding, feeling like a kid on Christmas day. But you were also riddled with anxiety. How were you going to pretend to be Bob's girlfriend. Of course you and him had had a vigorous conversation and had come up with all the details of how you met and started dating, but that was all theoretical. Practically pretending was going to be a different story altogether.

It was established early on that you two will have to share a room, possibly even a bed, which you didn't really have a problem with. You would also have to be close to each other the whole time, with a pinch of pda here and there to throw people off your scent. But the thing that scared you the most was that you would have to kiss him, even if it's just on the cheek, you would have to lean up to the tall man's rosy cheeks and press your lips on his soft skin, all the while trying not to jump his bone then and there.

It wasn't a secret how attractive Bob was, tall muscular with those stupidly cute glasses, anyone with half and eye would want him. But ever since you first saw him sitting quietly near the pool table at the hard deck, you were a goner. You had never seen a man so handsome in your life, for a moment you thought you were hallucinating. But then he opened his mouth and introduced himself in his charming southern accent, and boy were you screwed. No other man in the world mattered to you anymore.

You contemplated telling him multiple times on various sleepless nights, but eveytime your heart wandered down delusion street, you mind pulled you back to reality. Bob was respectful, always exchanging pleasantries with you, engaging in polite chatter while you both waited for the rest of the squad to show up, but thag was all he ever was. Polite. Polite and distant. The time you had spent with him coming up with a cover story was probably the most you had ever talked to him, much to your dismay. But once Bob had made it clear he wasn't one for mingling, you backed off.

By the time you arrived the airport, Bob was already there, waiting for you outside, looking devilishly handsome in his civil clothes. Sure you had seen him in cvs before, but this new laid back version of him was almost giving you a heart attack.

"Hey, hope I didn't make you wait too long." You greeted him, getting out of the taxi and moving towards the trunk to get you bags out.

"No not at all. I just got here myself" Bob lied, having arrived 25 minutes earlier. He moved faster than you, pushing open the trunk to take out your bags instead.

"Oh you don't have to do that, I can do it myself." You tried to stop him, but he just effortlessly lifted your heavy suitcase with one hand and your carry on bag with the other, muscles flexing under the white t-shirt.

"I wouldn't be too good of a boyfriend if I don't help you with your bags, now would I?" He replied, giving you the softest smile you had ever seen, melting your heart.

How in hell's name were you going to survive being with him for an entire week when he kept doing stuff like this. It was hard enough for you already to be playing his pretend girlfriend, knowing how much you actually wanted to be his, and now he had to go and be the best pretend boyfriend there ever was.

This was going to be a long week.

---------------------

The flight was hell, hell in an airplane. There were not one, not two but four screaming babies on the flight, and as your luck would have it, three out of the four were all placed near you. You were already sitting in a cramped area when the man sitting behind you thought it would be a wonderful time to show off his soccer skills by nudging his knees into the back of your seat time and time again. And then finally, you were stuck between a fighting couple who made you their personal therapist for the entire plane ride, leaving you absolutely drained by the time you landed.

Thankfully, you didn't have to deal with Bob the entire flight, otherwise you might have just lost the plot.

"How was your flight?" Bob asked once you two were off the plane and making your way towards the baggage claim.

"Terrible." You replied, massaging your temple with a long sigh. "Every cranky baby on the plant seemed to be seated near me and the couple I was stuck between treated me like a couples counsellor the entire time. I was debating jumping off the plane halfway through."

"Oh, you should have told me. I would've switched with you." Bob said, looking at you sympathetically.

"Bobby, you can't even handle it when Rooster and Hangman are fighting, how would you have handled two strangers having a lovers spat." You raised an eyebrow, placing your hand softly on his shoulder as he ducked his head and chuckled.

"That's true." He nodded, before continuing. "But the baby sitting next to me was really sweet. Played with me the whole fight."

"It's parents must be really thankful." You commented.

"Yep, they slept the whole way through, even offered me the job of a nanny." He told you as you snorted with laughter.

"Bobby Floyd, the babies princess." You teased, giving him a cheeky smile that he returned with rosy cheeks. In that moment you swear you fell in love.

"Oh, there they are!" Bob exclaimed, suddenly grabbing hold of your left hand with his free one, guiding you through the crowd. "There's my sister."

A woman, who looked a bit older than Bob was standing at the arrival gate, accompanied by a man holding a toddler in his arms.

"Bob!" The woman squealed, throwing her arms around the pilots shoulders and pulling him into a big hug.

"Annie." Bob said through laughter. "How're you doing?"

"Oh, much better now that ma has someone new to torture." She replied, before turning towards you with a smile. "And who might this pretty lady be?"

"This is my girlfriend." Bob introduced you, and you would have melted right there if it wasn't for Annie pulling you into a warm hug.

"My, my. You never told me she was this pretty Bob." She commented, holding you're cheeks in her hand, inspecting you thoroughly.

"And he never told me his sister was so gorgeous either." You finally spoke.

"And a smooth talker as well, mama's gonna love you." Annie chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, turning towards the man with the baby. "This is my husband Jeff." She introduced as you shook hands with him.

"And this little menace here is Andy." Bob cut in, taking the little boy from his father's hand, softly tickling his tummy, earing loud laughs out of Andy.

"Uncle Bob's his favorite, isn't he." Annie stated in a baby voice before turning to help Jeff with the bags. You were about to reach out and help before she swatted your hand away. "Nope, we've got it."

You flashed her a thankful smile and turned to look at Bob, clearly enjoying the two year old company.

"You really are the baby whisperer aren't you?" You whispered, amused how children were so comfortable with Bob.

"What can I say, I am the chosen one." He joked, making you throw your head back and laugh. As horrible as the flight had been, seeing Bob home and happy was definitely worth it.

The car ride to his childhood home was short, during which he you learned that Annie was Bob's elder sister who had gotten married a few years back, and now it was his kid sisters turn.

"Everyone had always thought it would be Bob getting married before Lucy." Jeff commented. "But I guess she beat him to the altar."

"Oh I don't think we'll have to worry about that any longer." Annie whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

The only response Bob gave was his classic red cheeks. The rest of the drive was filled with Bob and his older sister chatting, catching up on their lives while Andy quietly played with the aviator. You looked out the window for most of it, taking in the soft countryside, trying to memorise every inch of Bob's hometown. Upon arriving at his childhood home, you were immediately awestruck by it's beauty. It wasn't a massive house, you'd seen bigger ones then it, but something about it screamed home from the moment you laid your eyes on it.

All four of you were walking towards the front door, when an older woman, you figured Bob's mother, threw open the screen door. "Finally, took you long enough." She started, voice dripping with a heavy southern accent. "Now come here and give your mama a hug."

Bob ran up the stairs and right into the arms of this mother, the same way he used to as a kid. "Hi ma, sorry for the delay."

"Eh, don't worry bout it, atleast you're here now." She replied with a bright smile, kissing both his cheeks softly. "And you've brought me a guest." She moved to take a look at you.

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Floyd." You put your hand forward for her to shake, standing in proper military posture, trying your best to make a good impression.

"Mrs. Floyd was my husband's mother, please call me Mary dearie." She replied, pulling you into a hug with the same intensity as Annie. You figure this was a family problem that Bob hadn't inherited, though you would have minded getting a bone crushing hug from him.

"Yes ma'am. Mary." You quickly corrected yourself with a smile, feeling more welcomed with Bob's family in a second then you had ever before.

"Very well, now come in, let's get you both settled. There's going to be a small gathering in a while so why don't you go freshen up." She ushered you both inside the house and towards the steps right up to Bob's room. Jeff helps you with your bags as you climbed up to Bob's childhood bedroom.

"There you are." Jeff placed your bags in front of your door with a heavy groan, but there was no hint of disdain on his face. Rather all there was was happiness of having his brother-in-law back home. "I'll see you in a bit okay? Just holler if you need anything."

With that he went back downstairs leaving you and your fake boyfriend all alone for the first time. You both walked in, happy to finally be able to put your feet up. But upon seeing the size of the bed, all you desire to rest immediately vanished. It was already decided that you'd have to share a bed, but this one was barely big enough to accommodate one person, let alone two adults.

"I can take the floor, you take the bed." Bob spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"You don't need to do that Bob, we can share the bed." You offered. "Or I'll sleep on the floor. This is your bed anyways."

"I've dragged you into this mess with me, the least I can do is give you the bed."

"You didn't drag me into anything, I offered to be a part of your mess." You pointed out, sitting on one side of the bed, patting it lightly, indicating Bob to come and join you. "Besieds, I think I'm already in love with your family. They're all so-"

"Overwhelming?" Bob butted in, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"So much like a family. I mean, everyone was so happy to see you. No one from my family has ever-" You stopped yourself before you got ahead of yourself, quickly reminding yourself that no one from the squad knew about your family and you weren't going to let it slip out now. "Anyways, your family is really nice, I can't wait to spend the week with them."

"Really?" Bob asked, actually intrigued by your excitement. For him this was all normal, infact this wasn't even the tip of the iceberg, they were a about to get much more overbearing. "I never really liked all of this. Sure it's nice to be greeted so lovingly, but knowing them, they're going to get really annoying real fast. And there are going to be so many people to interact with, I can already feel my cheeks hurt at the thought of all the fake smiles I'm gonna have to give."

"Don't worry bout it, I'll come and save you from all the fake laughs." You declared. "I'm great with people."

"My knight in shining armor." Bob replied bashfully. "I've always admired that about you, you know. How easily you can talk to anyone. Sometimes I get quiet jealous of that, I can't hold a conversation with a stranger to save my life."

The words coming out of his mouth seemed unreal. You just couldn't believe your ears, Bob admired somthing about you. Something you hadn't really liked about your own self. You always thought you talking so much must have annoyed people, but here was than man of your dreams, telling you it was one of his favourite things about you.

"You think my yapping is admirable Floyd?" You blushed, ducking you head down.

"It's one of your best qualities." He affirmed. "I'm gonna use the bathroom now of you don't mind?"

"No, not at all. Think of it as your own home." You joked, earning a hearty laugh form him before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Outside you were going insane. Was he flirting with you or is this all part of the façade? If it is the latter, then you're in for a heartbreak. And if it's the former, you might just die with giddiness. Inside the bathroom Bob was pinching himself. Had he really made you blush with just a small compliment? Where he had gotten this confidence from, he didn't know. But if this false confidence of his made you look like a tomato, then he'd happily fake it for life.

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[lilisettean]

Between Silken Sheets | Headcanons

About: How are they like when they are underneath the bed sheets with you? Random assortment of steamy headcanons.

Pairings: Xavier/Reader, Zayne/Reader, Rafayel/Reader + Bonus! Caleb/Reader

Warnings: First times, Inappropriate use of Evol (Xavier, Zayne, Caleb), No protection (Caleb), please tell me if I'm missing anything! 18+ Only please. Enjoy :)

Xavier

Timid at first, his fingers tracing your form as though convincing himself that this, that you are right before him naked, was a dream.

He isn't very experienced, if at all. But he is eager to learn all you're willing to teach him, and is a fast learner. He memorizes all your sweet spots instantly, and is quite the explorer, wanting to find more of them.

Skilled hands with thick long fingers, deft at prodding your soft spot. Combined with his observant nature, he immediately would pick up on the slight change of your pitch as you moan, mentally filing that spot he just hit into places that would drive you crazy.

His usual aloof expression is nowhere to be found, replaced with the intense focus that he reserves for missions. But instead of Wanderers being his prey, you are.

Being a hunter that is always on the move, he is always in tip top shape. His stamina is nothing to scoff about, being able to go round after round late into the night as long as you are willing.

With experience, he grows bolder and would initiate more often. His hands wandering wherever he could reach when you cuddle with him on the sofa.

He would also be more teasing, turning you into a whimpering mess before pulling away to admire his handiwork.

While not said... Imagine if his light Evol felt like it's vibrating with energy. Him creating a tiny ball of light Evol and having it stuck onto your clit before pulling away, stroking his stiff cock while watching you squirm and plead underneath him.

"You're not the only one who knows how to tease, you know." "This is payback for earlier. If you want me to continue.... Beg me."

Zayne

He had seen and touched your naked form more times than you can count. He is your primary healthcare physician after all. He had kept all those times professional as expected. So when you are in front of him, naked under an entirely different context... He froze.

It wasn't from fear, but rather from enthrallment. It was only then he realized how attracted he is to you, his eyes unable to focus on anything else but you.

Being a doctor at one of the busiest, if not the busiest, hospitals, he never had time for intimacy, much less relationships. No one had caught his eye anyway, until you came back into his life. So while inexperienced, he isn't ignorant. He knows where to touch you to make you crumble and into an incoherent mess.

He handles you like you were spun from glass at first, but with time, his touch grows rougher, leaving indents and marks on your skin as he fucks you, his pace relentless.

His cold facade is gone whenever you two are alone together. And with you underneath him, praises and filthy promises easily spill out of his mouth. Praising you for being so good to him, for taking his cock so well.

He is very cautious about his ice Evol, but imagine. His ice cold fingers thumbing over your nipples while you're blindfolded, and the next second he envelops your pert nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. It takes some time for you to convince him to use his powers this way, but once he starts, oh is he addicted.

"Nnh- You're feel so good around me..." "Relax. Tell me if it's too cold, okay? ...Good girl."

Rafayel

Being a painter, Rafayel had have many models pose naked for him before. He should have more control when it comes to you being naked for him, right? Wrong.

You offered to pose for him naked but he always denies, because he knows he wouldn't be able to focus at all. He would end up studying your body more, on what he would like to do to you, instead of what themes he want to bring out of this piece.

It's one thing to study you from afar, but it's another to have you on his lap. His face is red as it could be, his eyes on anywhere, anything, but on you. You would have to take the lead at first, his breath hitching and his heart jumping out of his throat the moment you grabbed his hands and placed them on your body.

Rafayel was not new to sex, he had plenty of offers before. But he refused them all. As curious as he was to whether sex will inspire him to create art, the act was too intimate for him to indulge. But you are different.

Your touches lit a fire under his skin, his inspiration rearing to go with every kiss. And suddenly he understood why many artists cite their lover as their muse.

As he got more comfortable with touching you, his desire to pin you to the wall like a painting grows. To immortalize your every expression and arch of your back into art.

He would treat your body as a canvas, leaving kisses and bite marks all over your skin as he buries himself deep within you, and admire his work afterwards.

Sometimes he likes it when he is in control, but other times, when things get too stressful, he prefers when you take charge. Just like you sometimes begging him to stop staring and just fuck you already, he would also sometimes plead to you to let him fuck you as he thrusted against your heat.

"Please- Mmh- Please let me fuck you-" "I want you now... Please have mercy on me..."

Caleb

Caleb had forgotten when he had started to see you as someone more than a friend. He was pretty sure it had been during high school, and when you had no outward sign of liking him back, he resigned himself to a fate of unrequited love.

His expectations were subverted however, and he thanked whatever God was out there for hearing his prayers.

His touch was gentle, reverent. As though still in disbelief that you returned his feelings and would let him touch you in ways that would drive both of you mad with want.

He would leave kisses all over your body, worshiping you and praising you all the way as he made his way down to your heat. Your moans were music to his ears, and he couldn't help but undo his belt buckle and stroke himself as his tongue lapped up all the juices flowing out of you.

He had dreamt about you more times than he could count, his cock always stiff and yearning for you the next morning. So when this fantasy of his finally came true and you were underneath him, squirming and clenching around him, he lost it.

It was embarrassing that he came inside you so quickly, but can you blame him? He had wanted you for so, so long. And now that he finally has you, he just can't help it.

You don't have to worry though. Despite having came moments prior, his cock was still hard and twitching, ready to pick up where he had left off.

You never really knew what his Evol was exactly, all you knew was that he could levitate things. He had used this against you many times, but now... Well. Sometimes he would use it to lift your skirt up. And sometimes... He would lift you up into the air and hold you there, rendering you unable to move and fight back against his teasing fingers.

"Looks like you can't move now, yeah?" "You know I won't let you down... Not until you come on my fingers first."

[thebarneschronicles]

The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist

Welcome to The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist!

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve found your way to my little corner of the internet. Here, you’ll find all of my writing for Bucky Barnes stories, conveniently organized in one place. Whether you're in the mood for fluff, angst, or something a little spicier, I hope you’ll find something that speaks to you.

I also accept requests! If you’ve got an idea for a fic, feel free to send it my way— I'm always looking for new ideas to bring to life. Thank you for all the love and support; your reblogs, comments, and likes mean the world to me!

Now, go ahead and explore The Barnes Chronicles. 💙

ONE SHOTS The Edge of Patience

Word Count: 1.8k

You’re no stranger to the overprotective nature of your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. After a heated argument about wanting to join him and Sam on their missions, you knowingly push his buttons until his patience snaps. What starts as a battle of wills turns into a raw, unrestrained encounter—punishing, heated, and entirely irresistible.

A Quiet Escape

Word Count: 6.3k

During a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it.

Stuck With Me Word Count: 3.3k When Bucky returns home after a mission, his unexpected transformation leaves you speechless and you can’t help but tease him about it. As playful banter shifts to deep, tender moments, your desire and frustration collide in an encounter that leaves you breathless, unable to resist the pull of a love that refuses to age. Nine Lives Word Count: 9.4k

Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Out of Depth, Into You

Word Count: 8.3k

Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along. --

SERIES

Closer To Home Series A shared universe of Bucky Barnes x Female Reader stories exploring love, trust, and the journey of healing.

As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think. Closer To Home Closer To Home II Closer To Home III

Closer To Home IV Closer To Home V Closer To Home VI

CTH Blurbs Navigating the Ordinary What starts as a lunch invitation quickly spirals into an unexpected errand to the local CVS, where playful banter about modern absurdities and a deep dive into his dating history lead to unexpected revelations. For Science Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

[nutmegtales]

Alive again - Part 7

"I will help"

Danny's words are met with... Not quite sighs of relief, but the release of breaths that were clearly being held.

"But" he's certain they all expected the but "I have conditions" his gaze lands once again on the small ornate box and lingers there a while "and I expect payment afterwards, regardless of how this all turns out".

Batman and Constantine share a suspicious glance. Red hood rolls his eyes, though no one can see it beneath his mask. They may haggle and barter for the best deal they can, but he was willing to bet B and the rest were just as desperate as him to make this deal, they'd just about agree to anything at this point.

It turns out the Ghost Kings demands weren't all that unreasonable. They'd read about the kinds of deals that got made in the past, live sacrifices, whole lineages erased from history, entire countries given up in servitude. Something must have changed before now because this king was making no such demands.

No not whole lineages, or entire countries. All he'd asked was for a single soul. A single soul to bind with his and anchor him here to this reality. He'd said it was so he could assume a form that was safe for the people of this reality, that without it his power could crush the whole world without him even meaning too.

Green Arrow had scoffed at that. If the king had that kind of power, why couldn't he just wave his hand and cure everything. The king's answer was pretty simple, he'd stared at green arrow till the hero shifted uncomfortably in his seat before gesturing at himself and saying "ghost king?" with such incredulity that arrow hadn't opened his mouth again after that.

Now they were debating who to offer. Constantine had offered himself up first, eager as ever for an Eldritch twink. The king had scrunched up his nose at that "no offense, but no thanks. Your soul smells like damp cigarettes... and I'm pretty sure it's not even yours to offer at this point". Constantine seemed to take it in stride, shrugging off the comment and proclaiming it was worth a shot.

B was next, of course he fucking was that self sacrificing idiot. And even worse the king seemed to be actually considering it. He'd looked B up and down and actually sniffed at the air "mmmmmmaaaaaybe, your will is clearly strong enough to take it, and you certainly reek of death enough to be compatible...".

No. Fuck no. He felt the pits whisper in his ears and burn in his skin. Jason would Not allow B to do this, to take this from him. This king, this being of death, he could feel him. He could feel himself around him, parts of himself beyond just anger. He had somehow calmed the pit rage, soothed it to a bubbling laughter. It was terrifying and overwhelming and exhilarating and he was not going to let B take this opportunity from him.

"Fuck No" his first slammed through the table he was sitting at, splintering it apart as he pushed himself to his feet "It's me. End of, so back the fuck off Old man".

Danny could feel the rage pouring off the one he'd learnt goes by Red Hood. Could feel it building as he considered the other before him, the offer from Batman. Batman himself was tempting. A man so shrouded in death he tasted like a liminal. Like someone who was practically a ghost already, all that was left was to actually die. He'd be fitting as an anchor, it's true. But he knew who he really wanted.

Danny turned his thoughts to that rage as it built, he could practically hear it whispering it's demands, could feel it writhing and rotten under the other mans skin. What the fuck is that? It wasn't the feeling of a core, he was certain of that now. It was too sharp and jagged and fractured for that. Maybe he was possessed, or had been a halfa with a core and shattered it somehow, or... His musings were cut off by the mans sudden outburst, the fury practically tangible now, he pushed out some of his power to soothe the jagged edges of it, and muffle the insidious whispers. He felt gratified as he saw the man, so taught with rage he seemed ready to snap, responded to his soothing and softened at the edges just slightly.

He grinned ear to ear like the cat that caught the canary "Sold".

The rest was simple, some supplies and Constantine's help to seal the metaphorical door he'd come through, and a contract ensuring that at the end of all this, no matter the outcome, that ornate box would be His.

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[spookypete-94]

NSFW Task Force 141 smut thoughts/brain rot below

I had a night with my husband that led to a conversation that I felt was relatable and now I can't stop myself from the little thoughts below.

Thinking about a night out with 141, and a surprising twist in conversation letting them know that it's hard for you to come.

TW for language.

Not even sure how the conversation got to you from the four men that were talking amongst themselves on a night out, but it for sure had.

"I dunno," you muttered out. Four sets of eyes on you making you look down at your glass in embarrassment. "Just hard sometimes. Can't every time, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. Something wrong with me I guess."

At the end of the night they had all formed a wordless pact or bet depending how you looked at it. Planning on showing you that indeed there is nothing wrong with you, just how the last "boys" had fucked you.

Price

Takes the longest to make you come. Not because he sees it as a race, but this man makes love to you. He takes his time to worship you, foreplay his entire forte. In reality, he almost edges you, showing you you can indeed get close, only to take it away. The prize? The hardest shake and squeeze your body ever gives, making you feel like you're going to go blind from coming so hard.

"Mmmm, look at that. Nothin' wrong with you, just didn't have partners that knew what to do with ya'." He'd grumble over top of you, beard and rumbling voice in your ear.

Ghost

Is the man that gives you the most orgasms. He is relentless in what he gives you. Whether from eating you out for what feels like and probably is hours, legs forced and pinned up and locked on his shoulders. Shaking like a new born deer, only to be rolled over and forced onto your knees and head pile drived into the mattress. Your pleas and begs are often ignored. What was Ghost's initiative? To shut those down and turn them in the moans and cries. Hard to reach your peaks? Then he better spend his time giving you as much as he can. No better man with the stamina to do it either.

"Calm down dove, go' one more in ya'. Know you do." Voice patronizing and getting you closer again. Knees are forced up to your chest, making your breathing shallow. "Just needed someone who could go longer, didn't ya? Just needed ta ask was all, poor girl."

Soap

He is the one to make you finish the quickest no doubt. Eager to please, he finds what you like with speed. Bending you into the position and fucking you until you come. Like the true soldier he is, hears what the problem is and wants to find the solution to it. He listens to your moans, knowing that's what you like best and puts your body into it. Instantly knows what your body wants, and gives it to you. The only downfall? The image and sound of you coming around him so quickly, makes him as well.

"Sorry lass, give me a minute and I'll be ready to go again." He said stroking himself, already half erect. "Just nice knowin' I'm givin' ya sumthin ya never really had is all. Give me a min', and I'll do it again."

Gaz

Probably the best fuck out of the four. He had the stamina of Ghost, the love making of Price, and the intent and eagerness of Soap.

Willing to go for as long as you wanted, but listened to what you wanted. Wanted some hard back shots for awhile? No worries he's got you. Need your hair pulled to turn your brain off for a bit? He's your man. Sure he was large, but kept the weight off of you to keep your lungs full of air. Letting you go for as long as you want and come as many times as he could get you there.

"Not so hard is it? Just needed the better man was all." His hands holding your hips in the position you asked. Head in the mattress and back arched up with legs on his shoulders. Rocking back and forth with you, helping you get closer once again.

"Atta' girl." He groans as you squeeze him tightly on your umpteenth orgasm.

Task Force 141 Masterlist

[thankskenpenders]

Today we got some news regarding a big change for the Ian Flynn's Q&A podcast, the BumbleKast. As outlined in a blog post by Ian, starting in 2025, all Sonic-related questions submitted to the show will first need to be screened by Sega. (I have to assume this is also why Ian announced they'll no longer be doing live Q&As starting next year.)

Frankly, I can't say this is particularly surprising.

While the BumbleKast is ostensibly a podcast about Ian's work as a freelance writer for all sorts of things, and also just a place for him to shoot the shit about stuff he likes, he's still predominantly seen as The Sonic Guy. Sure, he also does a bunch of other freelance work for other series, and original comics like Drogune, and he's also the narrative mastermind for the whole Rivals of Aether franchise these days, but it's his insights into what goes on behind the scenes with Sonic that people really care about. Your average Sonic fan can't just go up to Iizuka or whoever and ask him a question about the current state of the lore, but Ian's inbox is always open.

Because of this, I've thought a lot about the BumbleKast's place in the fandom and The Discourse in recent years. Ian wants to be as open and honest as he can about his work, and I think that's admirable. To me, hearing about creators' struggles and the shit they go through just to get a story out the door tends to make me sympathize with them more. Sometimes a story just doesn't turn out as well as you'd hoped, but you're on a tight deadline and all you can do is move on to the next project. I've even softened a bit on Penders over the years as he's shared more about the absurd situations and odd creative demands made behind the scenes at Archie. Unfortunately, not everyone has that mindset.

Ian's basically always had obsessive haters who were eager to take everything he says out of context to try and stir up shit, but that used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie comics. Most of the fandom didn't give a shit about what Ian was doing with Sonic and Sally's love life or whatever. Most of the fandom wasn't even reading those comics. But Ian's gone from being a writer for a non-canon spinoff comic, to being the initial lead writer for the first ever canon Sonic comic series, to being the new main writer for the games themselves as part of the official Sonic Lore Team. Way more Sonic fans care about his work now, and when he's so open about his work that makes him an easy scapegoat.

It feels like damn near every week on Twitter Ian's personal trolls have posted yet another BumbleKast clip out of context to rile up the fandom and make it look like he has no idea what he's talking about or like he has some kind of agenda. And, unfortunately, people often fall for this. Of course, it also goes the other way, with people more sympathetic towards Ian taking things he says about Sega and framing them as proof that Sega has no idea what they're doing with the brand. Which, well, let's be real, isn't always the most unreasonable thing to think, given Sonic's rocky history. But I'm surprised it took this long for Sega to start paying more attention to what gets said on the BumbleKast when fans use it so regularly as a source of drama.

I've also often felt that they just need to be WAY more selective about what messages they respond to on the show. Questions Ian can't actually answer due to NDAs, questions that are borderline incomprehensible, "questions" that are really just fan ideas. And the haters, oh, the haters. Ian does not need to put up with angry rants about how he should make SonAmy canon or what the fuck ever. Even if Ian's willing to put up with it, as a listener it can make the show just super unpleasant at times when someone aggressive pops up with an inflammatory question. There have been entire BumbleKast Mini episodes I had to skip because they were just obsessive critics of Ian's paying to grill him on a dozen different things and treat him like an idiot.

But at the same time, I get why the show got to be this way. It's become a part-time job for Ian with multiple new episode a week. Given how piss poor the pay tends to be for freelance writers, I can't really blame him for wanting to keep this secondary stream of income open, and to not have to refund people left and right for rejecting their questions. The man's got bills to pay. (And so does Kyle, for whom managing the BumbleKast seems to have become a full-time job.)

I dunno. The man's got the patience of a fucking saint. I would've quit the franchise if I was in his shoes, with people wishing he would die for shit like minor disagreements over Sonic's characterization or him misremembering an obscure old lore thing. While I do hope that Sega doesn't keep too tight of a leash on him moving forward, and I hope that he's still able to speak his mind about his work, part of me also hopes that having to be much more selective about Sonic questions results in less bullshit like this.

[bigtedbear]

“ 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝗺𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝗼𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝗼 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗺𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧

Content warnings : nsfw content ahead, 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dragon anatomy..., breeding kink, unsafe sex (don't be silly, wrap up your willy), yandere themes, implied intent to baby trap, mlm, bl, gay sex, anal sex, idk if this counts as dubcon on either end??? (reader says no a lot but it's out of respect for dan heng rather than not wanting to????" ~7.5k words? (don't quote me, I'm guesstimating)

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚒𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚐 has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Please remember, this conversation isn't meant to make you feel uncomfortable in any way possible, I understand the questions we're moving onto may be..." Your fingers halted on your keyboard, mulling over your choice of words carefully. ..."uncomfortable to answer or inappropriate to ask." You finally pried your eyes away from your screen to make eye contact with the archivist. "So, please, please, feel free to decline to answer any questions, ask to take a break, or end the questions entirely."

How lovely; that you were so oblivious, Dan Heng noted in his mind. He'd been clearly eyeing you up over the table for the entire hour the two of you had discussed the history of the Vidyadhara. Yet, despite the glances you stole at him to make occasional eye contact while you took your notes, you had yet to notice anything amiss.

Not the abundance of information flowing past his lips, eager to please and more than willing to tell you anything and everything you wanted to hear from him; not the hopelessly lost look in his eyes, turquoise tracing each and every little different movement you made as you typed away; not even the clear and obvious rubbing of his thighs together; the clammy, shaky nature of his hands and each and every one of their careful movements; not even the obvious red hue that blotted his cheeks and flushed the tips of his pointy ears a bashful pink.

"Of course."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgement as you consulted a clipboard you'd pushed off to the side for the relevant questions you'd been meaning to ask. "You stated previously that the extent any Vidyadhara manifests more draconic features is reliant on their previous lives, is there any distinctions between those who outwardly display these traits?"

"Yes, no new Vidyadharas can be born, only through rebirth do any vidyadhara children come to be." He bit his lip, letting his thoughts ruminate, "Because of this, those who hold certain titles and authorities maintain this authority in all of their lives once they've regained memories of their past. While there are distinctions between Vidyadharas, it's not so much based on how we present but how we present is related to how strong our affinity is to certain rites and abilities related to our predecessors."

He tried to wipe his clammy hands off on his pants, but felt no relief at all. There was some kind of anxiety brewing inside of him and he couldn't pin what was causing it. It didn't help that you were moving onto the biology section of your questions, intimate knowledge of his body that nobody else knew. It brought him some comfort that your own cheeks were tinted a light pink out of general embarrassment.

He felt himself settle down more, but he also knew these would be the easy questions. It wasn't as though things would get more simple, to come up with complex questions, you'd need to know the basics.

Aeons, the things he would do just to steal your attention for just a few, fleeting moments.

Dan Heng's stomach dropped.

It shouldn't have showed up for at least another month, he realized. There hadn't been any sign of his heat rearing its ugly head in the slightest as of late.

He would know, he consistently tracked any and all symptoms for cases like this. He dreaded the idea of being stuck on a trailblazing mission and suddenly going into heat, but this was arguably a million times worse.

Dan Heng's idea of the most attractive man in the cosmos, sitting across from him with only a small coffee table separating them. He'd let out his horns and tails so you could sketch them down on a spare sheet of paper and you were far too close for his self-restraint's comfort. He carefully licked over his teeth in his mouth, hoping to find some kind of way to slip away from the conversation in due time. However, all hopes of this were dashed when you sheepishly made a small request of him.

"Do you think I could get a look at your fangs?"

He felt his entire body light aflame with red, hot desire tucked beneath a careful casing of embarrassment entwined with dread.

Upon noticing his apprehension, you were careful to notify him that he didn't need to do anything for you in the slightest. "I understand if that's uncomfortable, I would never want to force you to do anything that would cross any boundaries of yours. You can say-"

"Sure."

You blinked at him owlishly, snapping your jaw shut quietly. Doing your best to not miss a beat or make Dan Heng uncomfortable, you tried (and failed) to regain your composure and reinstate your more professional demeanor. Much to your chagrin, your pink cheeks and stammering gave you away. "Oh, I, uh, Alright-" you cleared your throat, gazing down at your clipboard nervously, "Whenever you're ready."

He opened his mouth slowly, allowing his fangs to be put on full display. His breath hitched in his mouth when you stood up from the couch across from him to sitting on the couch next to him. He could feel his heartbeat picking up and more heat pooling between his thighs when you started scooting in closer.

He squirmed under your watchful eyes, pitifully aroused and unbearably hot, but unable to do anything about it. You made quick work of sketching the basics of his dental layout, noting sharper fangs but also his forked tongue. You made a quiet observation, but you were hesitant to ask for further clarification.

"I- Nevermind."

Dan Heng did his best to keep his voice and breathing steady, but he couldn't help the tremble in his voice when he asked "What is it?"

You shook your head, "Your dental structure and the curvature of your fangs is similar to that of a few snake species I've had the ability to work with." You hesitated again to continue. But the sharp turquoise eyes on you made you feel an obligation to explain yourself, "I wanted to see if you, well, if you might have a Jacobson's organ but-" you cut yourself off again. You bit the inside of your cheek, squeezing out the last bit of your explanation quickly, "the location of the organ is in a bit of a compromising positions and it'd be so, so inappropriate of me to ask if I could see it-"

"I'm fine with that."

You froze, your face erupting in a flaming red as you stuttered over yourself, trying to explain the implications of looking at someone's Jacobson Organ. The little sadist in Dan Heng's heart was ecstatic to watch you get flustered, to watch you try to be as respectful as possible and keep that platonic wall firmly between the two of you.

He could feel it slowly starting to crack, continuing to shift in his seat as he waited for you to quiet down and actually get on with it. He murmured out a quiet affirmation that he truly was fine with it.

"I know what it means to look at it, I'm telling you I don't mind."

You averted eye contact for a moment before gulping down some spit and carefully setting your pen down on your clipboard, you hesitantly reached towards his face. You stopped about a foot away, inquiring meekly, "May I?"

He was quick to nod, a little too quick to be completely innocent. You didn't seem to pick up on it though, capturing his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb. He relished the skin on skin contact, drunk on the way your skin felt cool and welcoming on his own burning temperature.

You tilted his head up to get a look at the roof of his mouth, spotting the small mass behind the top front row of his teeth. You did your best to make quick observations so you didn't need to embarrass dan heng anymore than he most likely already was.

He, on the other hand, didn't want the moment to end. You were so close to him, your face just barely a foot away from his, looking at an intimate part of his anatomy. His eyes were half-lidded, sweat accumulating on his forehead rapidly. He didn't know why he didn't check out of the questionnaire the moment he knew his heat was coming on, but somewhere in the haze of his brain there was a small inkling as to why.

The longer your hand lingered on his chin, he could feel your pheromones start to waft up his nose and it was getting hard to see straight. The Jacobson's Organ itself was an organ meant to signal and interpret both signs of aggressive from others of your species, but also to signal a willingness to mate. Dan Heng's was sending electric signals pulsing through his cranium every second you peered at it from his jaw.

When your hand tried to retract from his jaw, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it onto his cheek.

It was only then you realized just how quickly his skin was rising in temperature.

He writhed on your mattress, your smell wafting addictively through the air as he did his best to peel his clothes off. He wasn't having much success, the sweat having just about fused it with his skin. You had rushed off earlier somewhere with a few words he couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He only managed to yank off his large overcoat and kick off his shoes and socks when you returned to the room. He was fumbling with various buttons and zippers on his top when you burst through your bedroom door with just about as many pillows and blankets as you could find in the short time you were gone.

You were fumbling over your words apologizing for not realizing sooner, saying you assumed Vidyadhara didn't have heat periods because they reproduced asexually. Your voice was in one ear and out the other as his fingers weakly and clumsily tried to pull his shirt over his head, but he noted that your arms were loaded to the brim with plush, soft, luxury pillows and blankets.

Nesting materials.

He was growing more and more desperate to get his clothes off of him as you dropped the pillows and blankets on the bed, apologizing over and over with a red face. He gave a needy huff when his fingers dropped the clasp of his shirt again. He couldn't get it off of him and he could feel frustrated tears settling in.

That was, until you started helping him out of his clothes.

You noticed his struggles and tentatively asked him if he needed help in this honey sweet voice, always stopping between each and every article of clothing you tenderly stripped off of him to make sure he was sure he was okay with you helping him out.

Soon enough he was left in nothing but his boxers as you excused yourself to start building up his nest for his comfort. You promised him you'd contact Caelus or someone else from the express to pick him up or at the very least explain the situation. He didn't answer, just about writhing in the middle of the bed, mind going fuzzy with the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him.

He felt comfortable as he watched the plush walls being built around him, clutching on your blanket in particular as he could feel his hips begin rutting pathetically against the mattress. He buried his face in the soft fabric to try and hide his shame, all while huffing in your scent like cocaine.

Too many sensations, to many sounds, to many smells, his body concluded; throwing him into a haze of seeking blind release on your blanket. He hadn't even noticed you calling for his attention from next to your nightstand, setting down a pager and some water.

"-an Heng! Dan Heng!"

He finally snapped his eyes up to gaze at you, a little bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glassy.

You gulped down some saliva to wet your dry throat before continuing, "I'm leaving, but there's a pager on the nightstand if you need anything."

There was some kind of deep noise that escaped from his throat, at the thought of you leaving. "Where are you going?"

You raised a hand, trying your best to dissuade his worries. "I'm at fault for this mess, I can just crash in Arlan's room or find a temporary one. I can't possibly ask you to move during your heat period."

He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you, as he tried his best to stop his hips from rutting against the wall of pillows and blankets you hastily built up for him. "You can st-stay." There was rumbling in his throat, one you realized was purring. He was trying to entice you into bed with him.

Your face pulsed a deep crimson as you vehemently shook your head, "You aren't in your right mind, I would never even think of taking advan-"

He whined, grabbing blindly for your arms as his hips started to move against the wall of pillows. "Need- Need something, someone, need you-" he cut himself off with a curse as he felt a growing knot of arousal build up more in his stomach.

At this point he was pulling on your arms, trying to pull you in closer, down into the nest. His torso lunging forward to press his face into the skin of your neck, he was just about whimpering directly into your ear while humping the bed.

"D-Dan Heng, you're in heat, I couldn't do something like that to you-" you stammered, trying to draw away from him. His insistent groveling was starting to get to you.

He tried pulling you down into the nest again, hands reaching up to your shoulders to push off the pristine white coat you usually wore. His little whimpers were growing desperate, practically begging for you to take care of him.

Your hands gripped his wrists, sending another spark of arousal up his spine, he couldn't even hear your next words, "This isn't right, you probably wouldn't be talking to me like this if you weren't in heat."

His thighs shook under him, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as you put your coat back on your shoulders so you could leave. "Wait-Wait, please don't go- ah~"

"If you need anything, I left a pager on the nightstand. When your heat is over we can talk-"

He whined his protests, but you adamantly let go of his wrists and he could feel himself getting more and more desperate to keep you in his nest as your delicious scent wafted away from him. "I think of you so, so muchhhsh, it's not just the heat." He mewled when he brought your blanket to his nose.

He let out an unintentional purr when you stopped just short distance away from your door. You turned to look at him. He pushed his hips against the fabric of the blanket and the sheets, already soaking both his boxers and your precious blanket with the scent of sex. "Y-You never talk to me unless you need to know something- agh~" his hips stuttered against the mattress again. "Have you ever considered my feelings?" He let out another moan when he ground particularly hard into the bed.

"What are you talking about?"

He keened when he felt your attention on him again, really playing up the pathetic act he was putting on. "Twice a year- hah~" he practically melted against your bed when he found the right angle to move his hips at, picking up the pace quickly. "-you're all I can think about. Alone in my room while the others are gone and I'm making a mess of myself."

He let out another drawn out whimper when you stepped closer to the bed, "Y-You never even spared me more than a glance- hngh~" he grunted when your blanket slid against the mess he was making of your bed, "I wanted you soooo ba-had~"

He crawled over to the edge of his nest to where you were standing, doing his best to reach out to you and make some kind of contact with your skin. "I want you- mmmnnhg~ right now, I n-need you here-" he gave a whine when you interlaced your fingers with him, his hips growing faster against the wall of the nest. "I want y-your, ouhh~, want your heellpppp-"

You considered your options carefully. Dan Heng certainly wasn't bad looking, in fact, you could feel yourself getting a less than respectable boner at the sight of him basically bashing his hips against your blanket. You had his prior consent, knowledge of an... intimate attraction at the very least. Last but not least, you felt partially responsible for the state he was in, despite his heat cycle having nothing to do with you.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek as Dan Heng put the hand intertwined with his own to his nose, sucking in the smell of your skin harshly. He was basically having the time of his life, eyes squeezed shut and his grunts and groans getting pitchier and pitchier with each passing moment.

You supposed you had to take responsibility for his little mess.

You let out a little groan of pain into his vent when he tugged harshly at your hair. He was just about jerking you further into his nether regions with one hand while he looped his fangs around one of his fingers on the other. His tail squeezed your upper bicep. You were laying on your stomach, going down on him with his legs thrown over you shoulders.

His little whimpers and whines weren't much to go off when it came to seeing what he liked most. Instead, you would go off the little things like the twitch of his thighs around your head or the way his hand tightened in your hair. There were actually a few things you figured out would get him to jerk his hips up into your mouth. Specifically, he really liked it when you managed to get your tongue inside his cloaca and tease the tips of his cocks.

You pulled your mouth off of his hips, relishing in his small protest. He keened, his hips chasing after your slick stained lips. You ignored his nonverbal begging for more, instead snuggly wrapping your biceps around his hips and squaring them back down on the pillow he was propped up on. You hadn't exactly done anything like this before, but that definitely didn't mean you weren't willing to learn.

Instead of going back in to continue teasing his slit, you focused your attention on what was slowly everting out of it. Your thumb traced over the slit of the dick that had just barely begun poking its head out his vent. You earned a muffled groan from Dan Heng, who was doing his best to muffle his noises on his finger. For his own dignity, you let him.

You tentatively licked over the tip just to gauge his sensitivity and were kindly rewarded with more of his cock sliding out and the second one just barely sliding emerging as well. The precum oozing off the tips tasted just like his slick, mouth numbingly sweet. It wasn't any kind of flavored sweet, actually it was almost like drinking a mouthful of sugar water; something you mentally took note of.

His fingers were just about digging into your scalp now, pushing your face down closer to him. He was trying to wiggle his hips up closer to your mouth, but your arms kept him firmly pressed down as you continued to mercilessly tease him. He sucked in a sharp breath when you finally took one in your mouth, going down slowly until your nose was flush with his pubic bone. You traced over the underside with an experimental flick of the tongue.

In turn, his thighs twitched to clamp your head in place, delivering a delicious pressure that kept you locked in between his legs. You felt the heel of his foot push into your back right between your shoulder blades. He tugged on your hair again, letting out a pathetic hiccup when you maneuvered your hand underneath his little leg lock to tease the opening of his vent.

He shivered deliciously when you groaned against him again, finally prying his thighs away from the sides of your head. You traced the outline of his cloaca slowly, sensually; causing his other hand to join in on tugging your head closer to his dripping sex. You rose off of his erection with plenty of spit and precum dangling from your lips, glinting in the low light.

His fingers carded through your hair as you finally got up from between his legs, crawling on top of him and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your breath was hot on his face and he could feel the sweat dripping on his brow as he locked his legs around your waist to pull you down on top of him.

One of your hands traced little patterns up the outside of his thigh and up to his little hip dips. You kept your voice low, trying not to overwhelm him since he was already trying to force his hips up higher to grind on your own erection. "As much as I'd love to keep going like we were, I want to hear what you want to do."

He seemed to lack the ability to answer, coherent thoughts transitioning to jumbled syllables and begging the moment they moved past his lips. He finally managed to raise his hips high enough to rut on the inside of your thigh, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. He was getting overwhelmed, your scent and your touch and the things you were making him feel drowned him in an ocean of white hot flames, boiling him alive with all the sensations sending a pleasant buzz through all of his nerves.

"Hm? Dan heng?" You cooed into his ear, he took in a sharp inhale, letting out a breathy huff in response. He kept rutting up against the inside of your thigh, his dicks standing at full attention and weeping precum all over your skin. Once again, he couldn't respond, letting out little huffs and groans into your neck while he tried to chase the feeling of completion.

You used the hand that was gently caressing his thigh to push his hips back down towards the bed. Chastising him gently for not answering you, "C'mon, I can't help you if you don't tell me how I can help, sweetheart."

He could feel the hot wet trails of tears running down his face as he started crying. He sniffled pathetically as his hips struggled against the strength of your arm keeping them pinned down by the waist. His hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, trying to use them to get more leverage to try and fight against your grip. "I- I-"

"Yes?" You purred, placing a kiss to the side of his neck. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyelids fluttering shut as he tried to put more effort towards thinking. "What do you want from me, Heng?"

He whimpered at the mention of his name, "I don't know- I don't know-" he hiccupped, his fingernails leaving crescent marks in your shoulders, "I want to feel good, I-" a sniffle, "-touch me, please touch me agaainn..."

"Good," your murmured against his skin, "Just a little bit more, you're being so good for me," you placed a few more kisses up his neck until you met his jawline, "Where do you want me to touch you? How do you want me to touch you?"

His tail squeezed around your thigh, shaking as tried to ground himself enough to answer. He pressed his foot further into your back to bring your body down closer. He whimpered, "-Inside" his fingers trailed up to your jawline, "I- I want it inside." He held your face in his hands to make eye contact with him.

In all his teary eyed glory, you still managed to find the willpower to hold back and tease him just a little more, "What do you want inside?" He whined, roughly bringing your forehead to touch his. You pressed an innocent peck to his lips, "Last question, Heng, What do you want inside?"

He keened, chasing after your lips, almost yelling against your mouth, "YOU! I want YOU insiiihiidddeee~"

You curse against his lips, "...ah fuck," you suck a sharp breath between your teeth. You dot kisses on his face, holding him in a soft missionary. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" You were scared to hurt him, trying to help him relax a little bit.

Dan Heng, on the other hand, was barely cognizant, eyes squeezed shut as little tears poured down the sides of his face. Was it from the pain? No, rather it was from relief.

"good, good, so good-" he babbled, arms looped around your neck as he tried to push himself backwards and further up on the pillow propped under his pelvis.

You gently stroked his hair away from his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheek. You gently pushed another couple of inches into him, causing him to let out a shaky moan. You kissed him on his sweat-caked forehead, shushing him as he cried pathetically underneath you. "You're doing so good, such a good boy, almost there, promise."

"Ahnnn~" he squirmed under the praise, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, "deeper, please," he sniffled, "-please, deeper,"

You nodded, starting to push just a little bit in further, stopping when his tail smacked unceremoniously against your back. His back arched up against the bed in an open mouthed scream, just about seeing stars when you brushed past his prostate. He kept drooling, hiccupping and whining for you to keep going.

You finally bottomed out, ultimately noticing just the smallest bump protruding on his mid-section. His hands were scratching lines down your back, his mouth pressed shut tight and his jaw tense. Tears continued to stream down the side of his face as muffled murmurs and whimpers bounced around the inside of his taut lips.

You latched onto the side of his neck, placing a delicate kiss before starting to suck a light hickey into his pale, pale skin. He shuddered under the simple touch, a broken, humiliating purr resonating from his throat.

He sniffled again, sobbing, "P-Please, just move, I can't wait- ouhhh~"

You unlatched from his neck, kissing the just barely red skin gently before drawing your hips away from his pelvis. He let out a long drawn out moan, his voice cracking in the middle of it. You pulled until your length was about halfway out, snapping your hips forward as gently as you could.

He let out a yelp, thighs twitching and clamping down on both sides of your waist. After a small pause, you repeated the same thing, earning another broken squeak. You set the pace slower just so you knew Dan Heng wouldn't be too overwhelmed. He laid there, largely limp for a short period of time, voice cracking and tears streaming down the sides of his face.

Eventually, when he seemed to get used to the feeling, his broken moans turned into purrs and huffy groans. His hips started to rock back against yours, hands balling up and relaxing into fists behind your neck. He reached for your face, a little bit less out of it and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

The first thing you were met with was his teeth clacking against yours before his long forked tongue ran over your bottom lip. You teasingly nipped at his lip, earning a purr as he parted his tips more the let you take control of the kiss.

It was around then that you got a more devious idea. You played nice to begin with, feeling around the inside of his mouth with your tongue, but eventually, when his whines started to get louder, you decided it'd be the right time to push him over the edge. Cheekily, you smiled into the kiss before pressing your tongue right on top of Dan Heng's Jacobson's organ.

You only had a split second to register that you'd actually done it before Dan Heng all but screamed into your mouth and the two of you were graced with white painting both of your chests.

You rocked your hips forward slowly working him through the intensity of it. You finally bottomed out again and stilled, pulling away from his lips.

To your surprise, however, Dan Heng's fingers moved from the back of your neck to tangling themselves in your hair. He was panting, teary eyes glassy and glazed as he pushed his chest closer to yours.

His lips parted, ghosting over your own lips as he begged, "Do that again, Ouh~ Please, please do that again, mhhhh~" His hips continued to rock back against yours but they weren't getting all that far; he was basically just grinding himself on the based of your cock.

You hesitated for a moment before tentatively locking lips with him again. At his insistence, you started to move again, but shallowly and slowly. He grunted into the kiss, tugging on your hair to show his disapproval. You huffed into the kiss before almost completely pulling out before shoving your hips forward harshly. He made a choked noise, just about having the wind knocked out of him at the sudden change.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a little mean as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. "Wow, I didn't know you could be so greedy, Heng. You already came once and you're begging me to go harder?"

"Please- hah~ please, I feel like I'm going crazy-"

You kissed the shell of his pointed ear, drinking in the little noise you got in response before humming and catching his lips again. Maintaining about the same pace as before, you started knocking the air of him continuously with each thrust. You started toying with the forked tongue in his mouth and slyly sliding your tongue over his fangs.

He let out a drawn out moan into the kiss, pushing his face against yours harder. He tried coaxing you further into his mouth, just about begging you to inject the bundle of nerves with just about the highest concentration of your pheromones he could get.

Still, you played hard to get, wrapping your tongue in his. In your focus on him, you didn't notice your pace was picking up as you got closer to your own orgasm. Eventually, when he gave a particularly harsh tug to your hair did you finally relent.

However, while you gave into tonguing over the roof on his mouth, you also wrapped a large hand around the two painfully red cocks bouncing against both of your stomachs. He squealed into your mouth, thighs trying to squeeze shut and protect himself from the onslaught of sensations. When he finally forgot his requests for you to put your tongue on the little bump on the roof of his mouth, did you let him have his way.

His eyes snapped open, pupils rolling up into his skull as you continued to stroke him and shove your tongue into the top of his mouth. He fell limp in your arms, fingers only staying attached to your hair because they'd just about knotted themselves in your locks.

You felt the pit in your own stomach starting to get tighter, eliciting a set of groans into Dan Heng. You sped up your pace, knocking Dan Heng out of his little stupor as his hands tugged about as hard on your hair as they could without pulling out any chunks. He was back to crying while you were just about fucking him open and drinking in the noises he was screaming out into your own mouth.

Finally, you let out a finally, deep, guttural moan as you bottomed out and finally spilled your seed inside of him. His back arched and his mouth fell open in a lewd moan, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he spurted all over your stomachs again.

"yesyesyesyesyesyes-umffff~"

You panted as you shoved his face into the pillow by the neck with one hand while the other carved bruises into his hips in the shape of your fingers. It'd been a couple hours later and Dan Heng was absolutely insatiable.

You supposed you should've expected it, seeing as he's in heat and all, but you didn't expect him to have nearly enough energy to keep going for the rest of the afternoon and into the early hours of the morning. Well, it was probably easier for him to keep going than you. After all, you were the one that was actually putting in the majority of effort to keep pile driving him into the sheets.

You grunted as you pressed your chest onto his back, watching the way his tail rattled in the air in contentment. Your hips were consistently slapping against his ass, his hands clutching at the pillow you'd shoved his face into mere seconds earlier.

His happy, fucked out noises were difficult to hear from the plush, comfortable pillows, but more audible now that you were closer to his face. You pressed a handful of kisses down his spine before reaching your hand around to his front. Originally, you were going to try and stroke him through another orgasm, but instead, the hand that was formerly on his neck ghosted over the bump you were creating in his stomach. He let out a noise into the pillow that was as delectable as sin. His entire body spasming when you applied pressure onto the same point.

After a couple of hours in, his cum had thinned to the point he was just shooting blanks at this point. His cock was an angry, crimson red from the amount of times it'd actually gotten off. Just like now, his entire body tensed, but nothing actually came out.

So instead, you pressed harder on the bulge, watching in delight how his body fell limp and he stopped rocking back to meet your rough, quick thrusts forward.

It was cute for the first couple of minutes, watching him weakly moan into the pillow and claw at the sheets underneath him to try and ground himself from the heaven you were currently sending him to. But as of now, your own hips were starting to get tired. Your thighs were burning after about three hours of copulation, but you also knew the moment you stopped, Dan Heng would be alert again, demanding your attention again. Sigh, so needy.

Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally actually, you traced up his stomach before curving it around to the side and resting it on his hips. You starting tugging his hips back onto your dick, listening to the sweet mewls he let out as he turned to press only one side of his face into the pillow.

Still not quite satisfied with the amount of friction generated from using his hips as handholds, you turned your attention to the rather large solution position just a few inches away on his spine.

A devious grin broke out on your face before you ghosting your hands over the base of it, taking special satisfaction from the way his eyes widened. The next moment, your hand was wrapped around his tail and his eyes were rolling back up into his skull, low moans turning into high pitched squeals as the end of his tail rather weakly whacked against your shoulder.

Once again, you were just so close to getting to your own peak, you meanly wrapped your other hand just above the other one, sending him jolting forward towards the headboard. He finally picked his front half up from the bed sheet and clutched the top of the headboard, resting his head on it as his nails dug into the wood. You were a little concerned when you heard it start to splinter, but you dismissed it for when your thoughts were cloudy with making sure Dan Heng definitely wouldn't be able to think about anyone else during any of his following heats.

Finally, the moment came when the pooling heat in your stomach exploded and unleashed another load inside of him, prompting him to scream as just the tiniest few drops of crystalline cum shot from his angry red tip.

Once again, when you stilled to try and catch your breath to see if Dan Heng was finally satisfied, the way he looked back at you, despite the drool dripping down his chin and dried tear tracks on his cheeks, was pleading with you to keep going. He punctuated it with pushing his hips back against your softening cock again.

Horny little bastard.

During the last few rounds, Dan Heng had started becoming rather verbal. Not to be confused with vocal, he was vocal since foreplay started. No, he started talking a lot the more and more energy you were losing.

At this point, you were much too worn out to wonder why. A few flitting thoughts trailed through your head, but were quickly knocked out of you the more you snapped your hips forward and the sweet sound of Dan Heng's hoarse cries replaced them.

"Sooo fullllll~" he mewled, riding slowly. The height he was rising was getting less and less as his pace was getting slower. His voice was slowly starting to slur the longer he was on top. He held an inflated stomach with one hand, using the other shaky arm to support himself on your chest.

Soon enough though, his arm gave out on him and let himself rest his head on your chest, hips still insisting on moving, though he was barely rising. "Ghonna get pregnaannnttt~" he purred into your ear. You lazily hummed an affirmation in his ear. Eyes half-lidded in exhaustion as you watched him use the last bit of energy he had to try and reach one more orgasm.

"Ghonna have your babyyy~" he cooed, his hips finally resting on your pelvis. He moved his pelvis in little circles, what little energy he had left diminishing exponentially the longer he went on. He whined out your name when your eyes shut.

"I'm listening, Dan Heng," you affirmed, sleeping hand coming to rest on the small of his back while the other cupped his cheek.

"You have to stay with me if I have your baby~" he complained, "you can't ever leave me."

You raised an eyebrow at his words, but chalked it up to a horny dragon that was giving into his mating instincts. "Yes, Heng. I won't leave you or the baby."

There was a weak purr that emitted from his throat, his hips finally stilling flush with your own. "Would jyou make me yohur wifeee..."

You hummed into his skin, "Mhm..." you rubbed a thumb across his cheek, letting him settle into his cute little domestic dream. "My pretty wife and our baby."

You could feel a smile stretch across his face against the skin on your chest. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. His hands pressed up against your abdomen, resting there as you felt him burrow his nose right in between your pectorals. "Prhomishe?"

You twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, mumbling out a half-awake, "Promise."

With that, you could feel his breathing relax and small snores emit from his mouth. Without moving all that much, your own arm lazily grabbed at a blanket, throwing it over the both of you before letting yourself also drift off into the land of dreams.

Before that though, there really was only one thing left on your mind...

How exactly were you supposed to survive the rest of his heat if this was going to be your everyday?

there a small note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" i fear this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I will be doing it again soon. "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

Part 2 here: " results: inconclusive "

[httpsserene]

httpsserene’s 1K Special | Track Limits

summary: soiled, virgin!reader is well aware of her boyfriends’ desire to eat her alive, sorry, to eat her out. from the way they can’t resist drinking her wetness off their (or her own) fingers, to the way they can’t stop running their mouths about getting their mouths on you: they’ve made how desperate they are, very clear. for some reason, she can’t get past her mental block to allow them to feast between her legs, or to taste what’s between theirs. max figures she just needs a demonstration to quell her fears; charles is a more than willing participant.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. so...have your charles craving satisfied, but reader's astral projection from max and charles' mouths will have to wait for tomorrow in the final episode. i know, i know, i'm cruel-but tbh last chapter is all reader focused and the "oral sex" for her plays more into that chapter so get ready for tomorrow !!!

view the full track limits table of contents.

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exponential growth — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 & 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 charles leclerc x max verstappen x fem!black!reader 2.6k words. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. oral sex. multiple orgasms. implied overstimulation. rimming. fingering. thigh riding. handjobs mentioned. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched.

max might drive for a team called red bull, but charles is the one stubborn like a bull. he’s chronically difficult and dramatic, and incredibly headstrong—but he folds like a lawn chair after hearing and being forced to watch max finger you to orgasm for three days straight. it doesn’t help that you seem to be completely oblivious as to how the older man is using you to break the monegasque down; you’re just eager to be back experiencing pleasure after your week long ban.

charles is playing COD with the quartet, he has to mute his mic so the boys don’t pick up on your screams from the room over when max makes you cum. charles comes back from running around monaco with andrea and, max has you splayed on the kitchen island while he rabbits his finger into you. the three of you are watching cars on the tv, and charles storms off to take his third cold shower of the day when max slips his hand under your blanket. seeing the state of his surroundings, it’s obvious why he breaks on day three.

it’s odd, because he caves and apologizes when you and max aren’t doing anything remotely sexual. 

the three of you have already eaten dinner, and max has been whispering in your ear the whole time before both of you clear your plates eagerly and sneak away—charles simply thought that this was max seducing you into having another round with his fingers. and putain, charles is going to have to apologize. he can admit his…wrongdoings to max if being able to touch you again is a reward, forget being allowed to cum again. it’s cruel and unusual punishment max had wordlessly instated when he doesn’t let charles touch you on top of not letting him cum. he bursts into the bedroom where you and max have closed yourselves in, expecting to see the dutchman with his hands between your legs as usual, but that’s not the case.

the two of you are sitting on the floor building a lego set. c'est quoi ce bordel (what the hell), charles may actually be going insane. max looks up at him from the floor, where you are sitting in his lap reading through the manual, with an annoying smirk—and charles is ready to drop his apology entirely. then you look at him: sweet smile spreading across your face for him, eyes brightening, and hand reaching out to pat the floor next to max for him to sit down with you. he loses his ire with the blonde and joins the two of you on the floor, humming excitedly when you show him the model for the ferrari 450, and presses a brief kiss to your cheek.

he watches as you open the first pack of lego blocks, and turns to look at max. the man’s cool blue eyes pierce his green ones, and charles feels like he already knows that his apology is imminent.

“i shouldn’t have,” the brunet pauses and licks his lips, “—shouldn’t have acted like a brat. i was being bad and i didn’t need to tease you. i’m sorry and i won’t do it again.”

the sound of you spilling the legos on the floor is comical, but charles sees how you freeze for a split second at his words, you’re processing the sexual dynamic he has with max and he’s far past being embarrassed over it. you, however, are completely new to this, and he sees how you keep your stare focused on the legos and he can imagine the blush rising to your warmed brown cheeks. 

max stares unmoving at the monegasque for a few more seconds, letting the nerves build up in charles to see him squirm, “you don’t have to lie, schatje. we both know you’ll be a brat again.”

said brat flushes, and mutters indignantly but doesn’t try to refute his claim.

“i think this is the fastest you’ve apologized to me,” max ponders, his hand coming up to play with a few of your curls as he plans his next plan of action, “and you’ve been so good for me. you haven’t complained about not being able to touch our pretty girl at all.”

your hands shake and scatter lego bricks at the man mentioning you, but he continues further, “and, i think that deserves a reward. maybe we can move her along to the next step at the same time too.”

charles nods fervently.

“would you like the honor of using her mouth and eating her out for the first time, charlie?”

“merde—of course i—“

“no.”

charles and max cease their conversation immediately, and look down at you. your face has shifted into an expression they haven’t seen in a while. the look in your eyes is guarded, your hands have wrapped around your waist hugging yourself as if you need to be protected, you’re chewing at your bottom lip anxiously—it’s all the two need to see to come to the conclusion that you are scared. the younger man looks at max and let’s him take the lead.

“okay, liefje. that’s completely fine,” max reassures, dropping his hand from your hair to rub soothingly along your back, “we won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do, remember? can you at least tell us why, baby?”

you turn around in his lap and bury your face into his neck, muffling your words in his skin. charles tuts, and rests a hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from the dutchman’s neck.

“i…’s not gonna be good. for you guys, i mean..if you use your mouth on me. you don’t get anything out of it,” charles huffs disbelievingly, and max shushes him with a look, “and—and, it’s not like i need it either—it’s useless to do it when you can just stretch me out and fuck me. girls don’t need that. and, i’ve never…done oral stuff before,” max and charles know that already, you haven’t done anything besides what they’ve shown you, “so ‘m going to suck.”

“first of all,” max starts calmly, “it sounds like you’re repeating what somebody has said to you before—is that true?”

you offer a half shrug and a slight nod as a response. 

“well, whoever that was is a fucking idiot. liefje, we’ve given you our thighs and my hands and asked for nothing in return besides your orgasm. i can assure you we receive plenty of pleasure giving you pleasure. it’s not crazy of me to say that we’ll enjoy having our mouths on you more than you will,” max smiles lightly, “and—we’re well aware that we’re your firsts. we don’t mind, or hate that. we like that; we love teaching you how to please yourself and us, and you’ve been so quick at making us feel good. you didn’t suck at giving us handjobs, you just had to learn how to. there’s a learning curve, baby, and you are way ahead of it.”

you shift shyly in max’s lap, still timid and unsure of the idea of oral sex, and he thinks of a compromise, “what if i show you how good i can make you feel with my mouth? will you think about trying it out after that?”

charles looks at max in question, but the blonde is to busy staring at you for your answer to pay charles any attention. 

“y-yes, i will think about it.”

the older man hums thankfully, and presses his lips to yours briefly before turning to the brunet who’s put away the lego pieces. 

“charles,” max’s voice has dropped, the commanding tone slipping in seamlessly, “get on the bed.”

charles can’t recall how he ended up naked on the bed with max between his legs sucking hickeys into his neck and you by his side monopolizing his lips. he’s burning up already, sweat gathering along his hairline and his hands shaking at his side, unsure as to where to grab for purchase. you reach out and interlock your fingers with his, holding his hand sweetly as you allow him to bruise your lips in the filthiest of manners. max has just finished painting his collarbone with pretty shades of pink and red, and drops to his chest to toy with his nipples.

charles breaks away from your mouth and whines brokenly at the scratch of max’s teeth on his sensitive chest. he pushes his into and away from the older man’s mouth, unsure if he wants more or less of the overwhelming touch, and max decides for him. he continues down charles’ torso giving his chest a break and he bites, licks, nips, kisses at his defined abdomen. the monegasque has definition in places max doesn’t and he loves it. he laughs quietly at the feeling of charles’ abs jumping underneath his skin, and moves to make a mess of the man’s hip bones and v-line. he spends several minutes sucking the harshest of marks into the dip of his waist and jut of his hips, pressing over them with his thumbs just to hear charles choke and whimper at the soreness. 

max shifts downwards, pulling the pretty boy’s legs apart to rest on his shoulders. he feels more than sees charles’ thighs begin to shake in anticipation—his eyes are more focused on the mouthwatering sight of charles’ cock pulsing from where it rests on his navel.

max completely avoids brushing his lips on or around charles’ painfully red, throbbing length. his tongue moves lower.

the monegasque gasps, shuddering dramatically as his eyes roll back. alarmed at his reaction, your eyes fly down to look at max, and you gasp along with charles. when max said he’d show you how good he could make you feel, you thought that meant he’d give charles a blowjob. not that he’d be eating charles out. but, who are you to complain, especially if charles looks like he’s just astrally projected onto another plane of mental enlightenment at max’s talented mouth. 

the younger man’s free hand struggles downward to tug at max’s hair to make sure he stays firmly pressed against him, and charles wildly begins to roll his hips downward to try and get max’s tongue deeper. max grunts in dissent, and he splays his forearm across the burnet’s abdomen to pin his hips to the bed. you can’t tell who moans louder at max’s strength—you or charles. the dutchman makes eye contact with you from in between charles legs—you can see his jaw working furiously—and he winks at you, before he closes his eyes and devotes his full attention to charles' ass.

you need to learn how to shut up and say yes to anything max tries to get you to do—you could’ve been in the monegasque’s place right now. 

charles’ cock looks painful, like it’s more of a hindrance than a pleasure at the moment. you drag your hand down his torso to wrap around his dick—but it’s knocked away by max, who pulls his head from in between charles’ legs (who cries out angrily).

“oh, he doesn’t need any help cumming,” max offers, a smirk spreading across his lips at charles’ humiliated noises, and buries himself back down. 

charles really didn’t need the help, because less than thirty seconds later, he cums. it’s the prettiest sight, you’ve seen so far. charles’ orgasm should be framed in an art museum—he looks like a god, his face tightening before it loosens, muscles lax, and mouth wide open. he doesn’t moan, he cries out, in shuddering breaths like he’s trying to breathe but failing, the pleasure too much for him to handle. his cum sprays in waves against his abdomen, and it’s a healthy amount—is it because he hasn’t cum in a while, or is this a usual occurrence? you can’t wait to find out. 

you swipe a finger to collect some of his release to taste, but max steals it—grabbing your hand and sucking it off himself with a moan. you pout, and he laughs, shimmying himself to the side to allow you space to slip between charles’ limp legs. 

max wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he pants, and says to you, “lick it off from down here—it gives him a prettier view of you.”

you whimper, but do as max says. stretching upwards to trace your tongue along charles’ abdomen, eagerly swallowing down every line of cum you pass across. the monegasque moans throatily at the sight of your wide eyes and pink tongue, his eyes flickering to max who looks proud. you pull away when you’ve cleaned everything off his torso, and turn towards max for further instruction. 

he kisses you—and the two of you exchange the taste of charles through your tongues. you hear charles’ head fall backwards and knock against the headboard.

max pulls away once he deems your mouth emptied of charles, and looks at the ruined man, “oh? liefje, i think you’ve missed a spot—right there.”

you look to where max is directing you, and he’s right, you have missed a spot. there’s bead of cum running down the head of charles’ cock that you haven’t cleaned away. so, you lean down and suckle it away gently. charles whimpers highly, and max sees his hips buckling upward and presses them down before he thrusts against your mouth.

“i think you missed a little bit more, liefje. you should lick all of him clean just to make sure.”

you shift anxiously, flicking your eyes up to charles who’s staring at you with glazed eyes as he nods in agreement with max’s words.

that’s all it takes for you to drool over the monegasque’s dick like you haven’t had a meal in days, hungrily swiping your tongue along his length, moaning depravedly. you even find yourself going ahead and sucking the charles’ cock into your mouth, humming sweetly at the weight resting on your tongue. 

“t-too much!” charles gasps, hips twitching under max’s hand.

“be good, schatje. she only wants to taste you a little more.”

max rests his hand on the back of your head, and it guides you a little lower, more of charles’ length sliding into your mouth. you pant around him, thighs pressing together to try and address your own arousal as you sloppy bob your head on his dick. the dutchman lowers himself down again, slipping alongside you and pressing his mouth against the lower half you don’t have in your mouth, his own tongue tracing along charles’ underside.

“merde, i’m going to cum again,” charles whines desperately.

max shifts lower again to suck his balls into his mouth and brings a hand up to press at charles’ hole. the hand on the back of your head pulls you away quick enough to avoid having you choke on charles’ cum, but his release splatters on the lower half of your face. it paints your lips, chin, and jaw, hot, thick, and creamy.

the two men stare at you in awe, and charles acts first. he pulls you up the bed, and presses your lips together to share his cum between the two of you. max clears his throat when charles tongues the last drip of cum on your jawline, “well—you’ve had time to think about it. can we eat your pretty pussy now?”

“c-can you put a towel down,” you murmur from where charles has tucked your head under his chin, “i don’t want to get the bed wet again.”

charles’ laugh echoes through your chest as max leaps up to run and get a towel like you asked, “mon ange—whether or not we put down the towel; max and i are going to make you cum so much, we’ll have to throw away the bed sheets.”

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[aesethewitch]

Hii so, I’m new to online witch spaces. I wasn’t aware there was any witch scams.

I might be a bit naive or have not ran across any luckily. But what are some ones to be wary of?

I apologize if this is a silly ask.

Hello! This is very much not a silly ask!! It's an important question to ask, and I'm glad that you have.

Yes, scams are everywhere. There have been scams in occult/spiritual circles since literally forever. Any space comprised of vulnerable, young, and hungry people is going to have people who want to take advantage. Online witch spaces are no different.

The big ones off the top of my head are:

People selling "witchy merch" like prints, bags, shirts, and other stuff like that using stolen art and AI-generated images

People selling crystals that are purposefully mislabeled as something they aren't, are made of glass/other material, or at an incredible mark-up for no reason (for example, "Lemurian Crystals" selling for hundreds of dollars on Etsy when they're nothing more than common quartz)

People selling same-day or even same-hour divinations -- when you think about it, isn't this kind of impossible? Check the volume of requests they get; if it's one or two people doing hundreds of these a week, either they're copy-pasting readings or they're using a GenAI to do the work for them. Either way, that's bullshit!

People selling spells which the buyer has no way of verifying -- think "energy work only" spells and the like; if the buyer gets no physical product in any way, and if they have no way of otherwise verifying the service has been done, how are they going to know it's legitimate? The answer is, they can't know, and the seller is banking on that fact

People setting up temporary shops that will disappear after selling a certain number of listings, not actually providing any services/products (or providing products that don't match their listings)

These are, I think, the big scam categories. A lot of them are easy to spot, with their copious typos and obvious AI images and buzzword-laden descriptions and reviews stuffed with fake five-star praises.

I would be wary of anyone whose entire online presence is dedicated to selling you something. I'd also be wary of people leaving information out of their listings, or who are obscuring what you're actually getting behind mystical language. And above all, be extremely wary of any shop you can't easily contact without running into chat bots. If you can't talk to a real person who's willing to answer your questions and address any concerns, they're either a scam or simply not worth your time.

When in doubt, get a second opinion. Ask someone else what they think about a listing or seller or shop. See if you can find someone who's actually gotten a service/product from that seller. Have someone else read the listing to see if they notice the same red flags.

And above all, don't let eagerness for results cloud your judgment. It's the number one thing these people prey on. They're banking on people to make impulsive, rash decisions, because it shields the seller's faulty practices from close examination.

[highly-invested]

You know how I said I had a hot take? Thanks to @basket-of-radiants incredible dealmaking skills (read: bribery), it's seeing the light of day after all.

There are a lot of moments in Stormlight that are generally beloved by the fandom for being willing to directly criticize some of the power imbalances on Roahar that don't work for me, and I'm going to attempt to explain why (under the cut because wow was this hard to condense into something readable)

The Stormlight Archive is first and foremost a story about personal growth. The driving thrust is characters' individual action to change themselves. Everything in these books exists to serve this end, from the oaths, to the shards, to the situations our characters end up in. Individual action, however, is poorly suited to resolving the systemic issues many of our characters face. How do you resolve systemic issues in a story focused on individual actions? You don't.

Okay maybe that's a little harsh. You elect individuals to stand in as representatives of these systems, and then move them to demonstrate the things you intend to say. I think you can see this fairly obviously with something like Jasnah, independently from any council or societal pressures, deciding to end slavery in RoW.

(This type of oversimplification runs the very real risk of implying that these issues are fixable by a "good" beneficiary of said power imbalance, or worse, that "bad" ones are the reason why these issues happen in the first place as opposed to the material benefits for the entire oppressor class. This however that is beyond the scope of this post and has been talked about throughly by people much more clearly than myself.)

The issue at hand:

The moments I'm alluding to up above are ones where characters get a direct verbal confrontation about the society wide issues that I'm so eager to discuss. Examples that come to mind are the Mink's shot at Dalinar over Alethkar's many crimes during the Alethi-Herdaz border wars, Rlain's comment about how the honorspren are collectively biased against singers, and even Kaladin's whole "Amaram owes you an apology" moment in the end of Words of Radiance.

"Hey what gives? That sounds like it's addressing the things you said you wanted!" I hear you cry.

The issue I have, dear reader, is that hand in hand with the story's commitment to exclusively focusing on the individual, these systems are reduced to tools to express very simple sentiments about where these characters are at in that journey, then promptly dropped.

To pick an example, Kaladin has a history of mistreatment and enslavement by lighteyes, and the story doesn't seem particularly interested in how a former slave would move through the world as presented. Kal expresses little to no empathy towards the many people still enslaved during his PoVs in Urithiru or the warcamps. We get a whole day in his head at the start of WaT and it never crosses his mind that slavery just got abolished! This is because as far as the meta narrative is concerned, this aspect is only visible in Kaladin's behavior at the personal growth level— to give him a very strong character relationship to Amaram, and to give him a "character flaw" to "overcome" in his anger.

Conversely, Amaram as the stand-in for the oppressive lighteyes isn't interacting with his class in a way that criticizes the issues with the system, but in a way that highlights his personal flaws in his lust for power and greed. Because of this, the embarrassment of the oppressor is the only kind of catharsis the story is able to offer. To the narrative Amaram losing his position of power by losing face is the same as righting the systemic wrong for the same reason Kal being elevated addresses the slavery concerns in the eyes of the narrative. They have overcome or been beaten down by their personal flaws.

The whole thing falls flat because it's not equipped to grapple with those topics outside of how they make our named characters relate to each other. Once the interpersonal conflict is resolved — the mink falls in with the radiants, Amaram eats a crystal and gets a tummyache — the story loses its vehicle to pick these things apart while the root issue remains untouched. And I'm left to go, hey he's right! Oh we're moving on and there are still thousands more Amarams out there :(

[redlikerosesandflowers]

A Maddie Wachowski appreciation post

I think Maddie Wachowski deserves more love in the fandom, so I'm going to dedicate this post to her and how amazing she is. Tom deserves all the praise for being an amazing father and person, but this woman deserves the praise too!

We see how amazing she is right from the first movie.

For starters, Maddie is clearly someone who is loving, selfless and kind. She chose to be a veterinarian, a profession that is inherently focused on caring and compassion, which says a lot about the kind of person she is. Sonic points out how good she's with animals and we know that he only trusts people he deems to be good-natured.

If the boy with trust issues says you're kind to animals, you've got nothing but good bones in your body.

Next, she's a great wife and complements Tom very well. They're clearly best friends, have movie nights together, and spend quality time together often enough that Sonic can see a pattern. They joke around, are comfortable with each other, and it's obvious how much she loves him.

When the letter from SFPD arrives, she's eager to see her husband's reaction and while we get the joke about the two cakes, it just proves how much Maddie cares. She made sure Tom had her support no matter what the outcome of the letter.

(I also love how the rejection cake focuses on how SF lost Tom, that they're morons and the iconic Golden Gate Bridge is on fire. This woman is Thomas Wachowski's hype man, I tell you!)

And the next scene shows that she was already looking at apartments before, regardless of the outcome of the letter, demonstrating Tom's unwavering faith and that yes, she never doubted that he could get it, not even for a moment.

Maddie is also in tune with Tom's feelings, showing that she not only knows him better than anyone but always provides an environment for him to be vulnerable and comfortable opening up. She notices his hesitation and lightens the mood, playing along with Tom's witty comments until she gets to the heart of the matter.

When her husband asks if she's okay with the move, she not only assures him that she is, telling him how grateful she's for the sacrifices he made to make her dreams come true - which Maddie knows were many because they probably had a long-distance relationship while she was in Vet School while Tom paid for everything and apparently she repeats this enough that he knows it by heart - but she also states that is more than okay to uproot her entire stable life if it means Tom will be happy.

Not only that, she senses Tom's anxiety and that the real problem is that HE'S unsure if leaving the city is the right choice and doesn't press when he says he's sure, even though he knows it wouldn't be the best thing to do.

I also think it's cute how Maddie has a strict no-aggression policy. It's not that the woman isn't willing to throw hands - because she is - but rather that Maddie doesn't like gratuitous violence and is quite firm about that opinion, even scolding Tom about it.

Still on the subject of these two's relationship, I want to highlight how these two are ride and die for each other.

Tom was accused of DOMESTIC TERRORISM and yet he had no doubt that he could count on Maddie, showing her unconditional love and loyalty, in addition to seeing her as an emotional support and a person to turn to when anxiety is high. 

She, on the other hand, was not suspicious of him but rather worried, and defended him from her own sister even with the evidence against her very clear.

Speaking of which, Maddie's unconditional love is not limited to humans and animals but also to aliens, which would become her children. 

(the most valid crash out of the first movie after the Sonic one)

She does not show any xenophobia or prejudice against Sonic in their first meeting, but she was empathetic with the hedgehog from the beginning, moved by his condition. And despite the initial shock, she always saw him as a living being, worthy of care and support.

To the point of tying up her sister so she wouldn't interfere and becoming an accomplice to a domestic terrorist to help Sonic. Maddie doesn't mess around!

Not only that, she agreed to help Tom without reservations and handled the chaos thrown at her like a champion, focusing on helping Sonic and then embarking on all the madness without question.

She also went against Robotinik, and supported Tom and Sonic in the final battle. Where after everything is over she sees that Tom has solved his internal problems and seen what she always knew.

And the highlight of the first film: she agrees not only to cover up Sonic from the government, but also agrees to adopt him, helping to set up a room in the attic and everything! Maddie looked at this boy and said my son, without thinking twice!

(gif from @welcome-to-green-hills)

It gets even better in the second film when we see that the Wachowskis have a very common and mundane routine, with Maddie being the mother and a great one at that.

She continues to be Tom's emotional support (and now Sonic's too) and has the same unconditional faith in her husband that she has in her son. She gives Tom space to work things out with his son and shows a lot of affection, which Sonic reciprocates.

In the scene where they leave Hawaii, we see how Tom and Maddie are relationship goals and how Maddie plays with Sonic, making him feel comfortable.

In Hawaii, we see once more of her focus on Tom and how she is the emotional support and place where he can be open, in addition to their usual partnership. In addition to her love for her sister.

Tom is worried about Sonic and how lonely he can feel even with them as parents, and Maddie once again shows the absolute faith in her son and the emotional stability that is so essential for this family to function.

Then we have the scene where Sonic and Tails arrive after escaping the avalanche. Maddie is immediately worried about him and while Tom is a nervous wreck, she controls the situation so Sonic can explain himself.

After GUN shows up and arrests Sonic and Tails, Tom is detained and we see how Maddie takes charge of the situation, trying to reason with Walters to free her husband and son.

When that doesn't work, Maddie simply decides to take matters into her own hands and break into a place guarded by the feds to save her family! And it worked!

(Which also shows that she - like everyone else in this family - is okay with possible violence to ensure the safety of her loved ones🙂)

The next scene shows her taking care of Tails before Robotinik gives signals and Sonic goes to take care of everything alone. Maddie still tries to help but he doesn't listen.

So she and Tom try to solve the problem in Green Hills and we see how they are trying to help before going after their son! (Ugh, I love Found Family!)

And we have THE scene.

(original gifset @yellenabelova here)

Not only does Maddie is the one who catches him when he's almost crushed, but it's SHE who starts saying that they are a family and kicks off this statement. Coherent since she is the emotional core of this family and it's on her that Sonic rests his head when he's about to die, probably because - again - Maddie is the emotional support of the family. Tom follows here and they hug.

Then Sonic turns super Sonic, returns to normal and we see how affectionate Maddie is. Probably the most physically affectionate with Sonic!

(original gif @iwasbored777)

And not only with Sonic but with Tails and Knuckles who have become her children too. She even shows that she has already become attached to Knuckles!

And we have the third film.  

The beginning is pretty normal. We see how the whole family is united and Maddie is a loving mother and wife. She helps her children run and is clearly loving her position as a mother.

Despite the somewhat… er, questionable characterization at times, I have the impression that Sonic 3 tried to give Maddie more depth, making her temperamental side more visible and that sometimes she and Tom may have friction, but that doesn't mean they love each other any less. Or the boys.

On the contrary, she loves her husbands and children! She even threw a surprise party celebrating one year since they officially adopted Sonic! And she makes it very clear that when he arrived on Earth they formed a family! She loves this boy!

(original gif @iwasbored777)

Everyone is together and celebrating until GUN arrives. And ruins everything.

I love that Maddie asks what they did because she and Tom have already committed so many crimes against the government and apparently continue to do so lol. TOM has to point out that it was probably their children's work.

The next scene she appears in only further proves that Maddie has fully embraced her new life as a mother.

She and Tom have spent the last few hours pursuing new hobbies and activities that they can do now that it's just them, and it's clear that they can't get used to life as a couple anymore because the boys have become such an integral part of their routine!

And of course, she continues to be a ride and die with her family agreeing to invade GUN's private property in another country at the drop of a hat 😃

One interesting trait I noticed about Maddie during the planning is that she is a very pragmatic woman. She brought up Sonic's Super form as an efficient and quick way to take care of things. You know, the ultra-powerful and indestructible form? Yeah, Maddie really did say let's cause chaos and end this.

As I said, they brought out Maddie's more temperamental side - shown when she talked to Tom about the mini-Tom and disguised herself as Rachel - and that she likes to act like that from time to time, showing that her patience is something more constructed than natural to her.

I also found her relationship with Tom kind of funny and just a little poorly written in the next scenes, in which they prepare and invade GUN headquarters.

To start, the joke when she's dressed as Rockwell is TERRIBLE because Tom has never had eyes for any other woman other than Maddie. On the other hand, the scene showed that Maddie is just as capable of playing hands as her husband ¯⁠\⁠⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠⁠/⁠¯.

(Maddie knowing how to fight wasn't in my bingo but it makes sense. Good for her 👍🏼 And the next scene is them getting along again so, eh. Forgivable but I hope they don't do it again.)

However, they and Tails are captured and then trapped in gravity and almost die because of the debris if it weren't for Sonic, who saves them at the last minute.

I think it's really cute that she thanks him btw.

But nothing good can last, because Tom is then knocked out by Shadow and Maddie finds her husband unconscious, with the middle son in a panic and to make matters worse, the thing they were trying to prevent happens.

One detail that the novelization brings is that the paramedics said that Tom was alive but unresponsive. He could then be in a coma or even BRAIN DEAD for all Maddie knew.

I don't even want to imagine how she was feeling. Tom is Maddie's best friend and clearly the love of her life and seeing her significant other so close to death must have been devastating. The novelization says that she was in grief!

Not only that, as the only responsible adult she had to go with Tom and leave her children - already unstable - to their own devices. 

The look she gives Sonic and the others, God it's so haunting because Maddie is clearly SCARED. She can't tell her kids that everything is going to be okay and she can't even be with them because her husband needs her. Not only that, she now also depends on them because the worst has already happened and they have to stop the eclipse cannon and this mother has to ask her traumatized children for help to solve this mess because there is no other way.

Maddie had been the emotional pinnacle of this family for the entire 3 movies and that clearly took its toll here (more on this scene in @wherearedagrapes amazing analysis)

Maddie's inner turmoil is very understated, but the movie doesn't forget that we have a scene of her in the hospital with Tom unconscious behind her, as the cannon prepares to activate. For all Maddie knows, her children could be dead too. And she can't do anything about it because they are the only defense Earth has. That's horrible! A mother who has to accept that her children will put themselves in danger again and again. And now when ber husband is fighting for his life.

Luckily, everything works out and Maddie has her family complete again.

However, I hope that Sonic 4 brings more attention to her and the traumas that she certainly has now and develops her more in general.

Because Maddie Wachowski is amazing and deserves more love ❤️

[eldritch-nightmare]

Dom / switch / sub headcanons for all the creeps? (like who’s a Dom, who’s a sub, yada yada)

a/n: i'm honestly not sure if i explained any of these properly because they sorta just make sense in my mind but here u guys go i hope u can see my vision. second time writing nsfw content teehee hope i did a good job <3

dom/sub/switch headcanons.

includes: slenderman, jeff the killer, eyeless jack, laughing jack, jane the killer, nina the killer, the bloody painter, candy pop, the doll maker, jason the toymaker, dr smiley, nurse ann, the puppeteer, clockwork, zalgo, hobo heart, ticci toby, zero, kagekao, nathan the nobody, homicidal liu + sully, and laughing jill.

warnings: minors dni, nsfw discussion, inconsistent word length, mentions of the following: praise, degradation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, overstimulation, dumbification, fingering, very brief mention of a corruption kink in sully's part.

SLENDERMAN is none. it isn't interested in sex whatsoever. the thought never even crosses its mind, and it will turn down any and all advances. it has no desire to partake in sexual acts with anyone.

JEFF THE KILLER is a dom but that's not a surprise. he prefers being the one in control, and will more than likely never be willing to sub during sex. it also feeds his ego a bit, seeing you squirming underneath him, begging him to fuck you until his name is the only thing on your mind. he likes having this type of power over you.

EYELESS JACK is a switch. he doesn't really have a preference. if you want him to dom you, he'll make it to where you can't walk in the morning. if you want him to sub, he'll be a whining, moaning mess underneath you as he comes undone.

LAUGHING JACK is a switch. he has fun doing both! he's always willing to mix it up. whatever you want, he's willing to be. i actually kinda imagine sex with him will be a little difficult?? y'know, pointed nose, long nails that he can't clip. i'm not entirely sure how certain aspects of sex will work with him but... i imagine you guys figure something out.

JANE THE KILLER is a sub. you would think that she would be a dom but hell no she needs to be treated like a princess during sex. definitely a bratty sub for sure. she's the type to say make me when you tell her to behave.

NINA THE KILLER is a switch. she's definitely a softer dom, always so gentle and praising you so sweetly as she cares for your needs. and when she's the sub? then she is the sub. she becomes a whining, needy mess as she begs you to use her, wanting to be good just for you.

THE BLOODY PAINTER is a switch. honestly, i think he's a virgin so in the beginning of your sexual relationship with him, you would definitely have to take the lead more often than not. he comes to learn that he doesn't really care if he's a dom or sub.

CANDY POP is a dom. through and through. he's a hard dom, at that. he'll deny you orgasms and he'll have you fucked stupid before he finally lets you cum. he degrades you as well. look at you, taking his length so well. it's almost like you were made to be fucked like a slut.

THE DOLL MAKER is sex repulsed. for a variety of reasons, vine is repulsed by the mere thought of sex and will vehemently avoid and turn down any advances made toward him.

JASON THE TOYMAKER is a dom. this also probably isn't a shock, given his nature. he definitely leans more towards being a soft dom, but if you want him to degrade you and use you as a toy then all you have to do is ask. he's eager to please you.

DR SMILEY is a dom. i haven't written much about him but he definitely doesn't seem like a sub or switch. i think he enjoys being in control, and he definitely likes having you at his mercy.

NURSE ANN is a dom. you couldn't get her to sub for you even if you tried, i'm sorry. ann is like a fucking animal when it comes to sex man her stamina and endurance are crazy. she'll have you forgetting your own name.

THE PUPPETEER is a non-partaking dom. he doesn't feel sexual attraction but he's not against helping you get off if you beg him to. he directs you on how to please yourself all while praising you for being a good listener. and maybe he'll end up degrading you a bit too, who knows.

CLOCKWORK is a switch that doms more often than not. she rarely ever subs, finding that she derives more pleasure when she's dominating you and making you scream her name. when she does sub, she's a lot more needy than you'd expect. she's a brat too.

ZALGO is a dom. he's also a hard dom, though i don't think that's shocking to anyone. he's the type to praise you while he degrades you. he'll leave marks on your skin as well, and he'll fuck you until you're in tears because you just look so adorable when you cry. he's an aftercare king tho don't worry.

HOBO HEART is a sub. trust me guys he's a desperate and needy sub. he's so so so sensitive and he'll be coming undone even if you don't touch him. he'll be a crying and drooling mess by the time you're done with him, and the praise you give him for being so good just makes him feel so, well, good.

TOBY is a switch. he just wants to please you in any way he can. if that means pinning you down and filling you up until you're both exhausted or letting you use him to satisfy your needs, then so be it. he doesn't really care as long as he gets to please you.

ZERO is a dom. she absolutely lives for the control she has over you in the bedroom. she'll probably manhandle you, to be honest, she loves how easy you fold to her touch alone. she's also the type to praise you while degrading you. and if you're into it, she'll probably choke you.

KAGEKAO is a switch that doms more often than not. sex is really just another way for him to tease and play with you. he likes having you beg for release, and he loves overstimulating you. but sometimes the tables may turn. it'll be rare, but you very well can get kagekao on his knees begging to worship you.

NATHAN THE NOBODY is sex repulsed. it's just not something he's interested in, and the thought alone tends to make him feel nauseous, to be honest. if you want, you can go and fulfill your sexual desires through someone else.

HOMICIDAL LIU is a switch that subs more often than not. and trust me when i say that he will worship you. his only goal is to fulfill your every need in any way that he can. most of the time, it's him begging you to let him fuck you while you tease him. however, sometimes, when he's the dom, he will fuck you so hard that you end up a dazed, babbling mess only able to get out a jumbled mess of please and don't stop. AND HE'S SO SWEET ABOUT IT TOO god he praises you the entire time, acting as if he literally isn't rearranging your insides right now.

SULLY is a switch. sully just goes with the flow, to be honest. he doesn't lean towards being a dom or a sub, he just is. one moment you could be fucking him until the only thing he can think about is you, and then the next he could be fingering you while marking your body up and making you beg for him to fuck you senseless. and honestly, he probably has a corruption kink tbh.

LAUGHING JILL is a sub. she is so desperate and needy, eager to please you and do whatever you want her to do. she'll cry, she'll beg, she'll be a brat, she'll do anything and everything to get you to touch her. she loves it when you praise her. she just wants to be a good girl for you <3

[lucydixon]

Faust Pink Girly GF Headcanons

I'm trying out a moodboard for this one, just because I think this pairing is so cute

Faust Masterlist 𐴱 Lords of Chaos Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog A/N: This was a request, and I latched onto it. I'm going absolutely insane over Faust the last couple of days, and after going through my inbox, I can see that a lot of you are too.

Summary: Headcanons for Faust with a girly, pink GF

I think that you’d likely meet Faust at Helvete, and it would be a ‘love at first sight’ kind of thing. Maybe you’d stumble in there, completely lost, or maybe you’re looking for a gift for a friend. Either way, you’d walk in, and it would feel like the entire world had slowed to a stop. 

Of course, you’d look completely out of place, but I think that the shock of seeing so much pink in the dark store would spark something deep inside his chest. He’d do a double-take, checking if Euro had popped his head out of the office before deciding to stare. 

You’d be equally taken aback, staring, even from across the room, into his dark brown eyes. They’d be drawing you in like a magnet, and you’d walk right up to the counter, eyes locked with the tall, handsome stranger. 

“Hi.” You’d breathe, unable to tear your gaze away. 

He’d repeat the word back to you, equally as entranced and the two of you would stand there for what felt like hours before either of you spoke again. 

He’d ask you if you're lost, and you might make a joke about not knowing what he means. It’d make him smile, you’d laugh, and you’d both feel your insides warm. 

I don’t think he’d make a move, he probably wouldn’t know where to start, but you’d scribble your number on a scrap of paper and slide it across the counter before leaving. 

You’d realize on the walk home that you’d never introduced yourself or asked his name. The two of you had really spent the majority of the short time you’d spent together staring. 

Faust would sit down in front of the phone as soon as he got home, having spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d go back and forth for an hour, torn between convincing himself that it would never work out. That the two of you were just too different, and coming to terms with the fact that he’d never been so enamoured by a stranger, and that he should just go with his gut and call you. 

I think you’d be a little bit surprised that he called, having had the same back and forth inside your head on the walk back to your apartment. You’d feel your heart racing in your chest as soon as you heard the phone ring, and you’d snatch it off the receiver so fast that it had barely had time to ring twice. 

“Hello?” You’d speak into the receiver, playing anxiously with a strand of your hair. 

“Uh- hi.” His voice would come through the speaker, sounding a bit hesitant “It’s Faust, from the store?” 

“Faust.” You’d say it out loud, and see how it felt coming out of your mouth. 

On the other end of the phone, he’d shudder, unable to deny the way it felt to hear you say his name. 

You’d introduce yourself and he’d say your name, just like you’d said his. 

I think that after some awkward small talk and obvious stalling, he’d ask you if you wanted to see a movie. Then he’d clarify that he’d meant, with him. Just in case you hadn’t realized. You’d laugh and agree, sounding just a little bit too eager for your liking, but it would ease his nerves. You’d make plans to meet at the theater that weekend. 

Faust would be so nervous, pacing the length of the theater, chain-smoking cigarettes while trying to come up with things to talk about that weren’t metal music and satanism. He’d be so worried about scaring you away that he wouldn’t even notice you walking towards him. 

He’d finally look up and see you looking amused and would stop, blushing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and greeted you in a soft voice. 

You’d have to be, at the very least, willing to watch horror movies with him because we all know that this man picked something scary for your first date. It’s alright if you’re a bit of a scaredy cat, he certainly wouldn’t mind you grabbing his hand or arm and gripping onto it for the whole movie. He’d probably already be planning your second date around another one if it meant he got to put his arm around you. 

I think that the date would go well and he’d walk you back to your apartment while the two of you talked, both surprised by how easily the conversation was flowing. 

He’d be too nervous to kiss you, but if you kissed him, he’d melt into it and kiss you back eagerly, reaching out to cradle your face in his big, warm hands. 

You’d realise as soon as you woke up the next morning that you didn’t have his number, but it wouldn’t matter because I just know that this man was up all night thinking about you and was anxiously sitting by the phone waiting for a reasonable hour to call you, desperate to see you again. 

Once the two of you start dating, I think you’d spend a crazy amount of time together. I’m talking only parting ways to go to work in the mornings and then immediately meeting up afterwards and spending the entire night together. Faust just wouldn’t be able to get enough of you, and you’d totally be a velcro couple.

I think he’d let Occultus meet you first and it would go well despite your blatant differences. He’d tell the boys ahead of time that you didn’t quite match the asthetic of the shop, but they’d all still be shocked by just how true the statement rang when you show up one afternoon after getting off work early. 

Øystein would be the only one who didn’t immediately accept that the two of you were a couple after seeing Faust’s lovesick little grin when he saw you. I think he’d whine about you hanging out in the shop and completely throwing off the vibes, but Faust would be undeterred and would invite you to hang out on your days off anyways, giving Øystein the puppy dog eyes when he walked out of the office and immediately narrowed his eyes at the two of you. Eventually, he’d fold, but I don’t think he’d ever stop making little comments and grumbling under his breath. 

Faust would look so out of place in your little girly apartment with it’s pink walls and decor, but slowly, over time, as he started to spend the night nearly every day he’d start leaving his stuff behind and there would be random splashes of black everywhere. 

He would let you braid little sections of his hair while the two of you are spending a lazy Sunday morning in bed. You’d sit propped up against the headboard with his head in your lap, oblivious to the little pink hairties and clips you’re plucking off your nightstand to weave into his hair. When he finally realizes, he’d grumble under his breath and get huffy, but it would be so unconvincing. 

Faust would only call you the sweetest pet names like ‘Angel’, ‘Princess’ and for some reason, I keep thinking ‘Bunny’. 

If the two of you moved in together there would be contrast everywhere. The closet with its polar opposite halves, pink and black toothbrushes living side by side in the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink, your mismatched looking shoes lining the wall by the door. If there’s two of anything, best believe that one’s pink and one’s black.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[buckets-and-trees]

Alright, Aspen! Here is the first of possibly many (definitely more than one) Viking!Steve asks inspired by my vacation through the land of the Vikings.

I've learned that Viking women had the right to get a divorce. Do you think our poor reader ever contemplated it? And what would Steve do to stop it???

Kris, I'm so envious of your chance to go on an adventure/vacation in the viking lands! I think I am yearning to/want to put that on the list of trips I want to take in the next five years...

I've thought through this quite a bit, since you left it last week, and I'm confident now that the answer is no.

While our viking warrior King Steven has been brutal and rough, and enacted prima nocta/raped the reader the first night, then made the trade for her life to spare her village in perpetuity, and forced her to marry him... He has never been and will never be violent to her. Really once he takes her out of the room with her first husband, I think the horror ebbs.

During the first few weeks when she's vacillating on the scale of frightened to wary of him, she wouldn't consider trying to divorce or run away out of duty to her family that remains behind in her old village, and her actual friends, even if she it bitter about being traded away so easily. But even that bitterness is really only at how little she was valued as the wife for the magnate's son. I think it dashed her hopes as the fresh-faced bride, seen as the one worthy/best-suited to marry the man who would be the next magnate. She was forsaken so quickly. AND YET also understands that trading away one woman for the safety and protection of an entire village is not something easily refused.

But in maybe the space of time after that when she still feels out of place, is trying to learn how to be the queen, doesn't feel at home, divorce would still feel like .... to what end? She's going to divorce the king? And go where? Who's going to take her in? Who's going to not treat her like some kind of pariah? She has no means of her own to get on a ship and leave, and who would take her? Even with the king's 'blessing' or agreement to a divorce, I'm not sure many would be willing to go out of their way to potentially risk even a slight disfavor from the king. Steven's people revere him because he is a very good king to them. He rules them justly and protects them. He provides for them, makes sure their economy is thriving, and holds celebrations for his people for holidays and important occasions.

And then she begins to see all these things, too.

She is married to a good king.

She begins to grow in her role as his queen.

And putting aside some of the logic for her circumstances... there's the emotional stuff that just makes it insanely complex.

She begins to make bonds with people in their household, in the village. She's got her adorable, sweet, and feisty cats. She's got this new phase of life that she's growing into as the queen where she has purpose and resources and projects and things she wants to do.

And then she's got him. And he's him, you know?

And his insatiable nature with her? It's intoxicating. Because you have the physical aspects of the pleasure, but also the intensity of being so intimate with someone else so consistently.

So even when the idea might have floated through her mind, it's not something she ever seriously considered. But I feel like she will also get to live a life where she actually never would choose to. EDIT TO ADD: and what would he do to stop it?

A reasonable conversation. An unreasonably unfair seduction to remind her how good he makes her feel.

But it would never come to that.

I know this didn't technically come in for the sleepover, but it was something I was eager to answer now that I've had the time to really think and marinate over it. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!

[transformers-spike]

I just wanted to ask what you thought TFP Ratchet, Wheeljack, Dreadwing, and Bulkhead were position wise in your mind. Like are they a top, a bottom, or a switch?

To me Dreadwing and Wheeljack are both tops. I fee like they both would really be into doming their partners. Wheeljack is kinky as hell so I can see him being into super freaky shit.

And I can see Dreadwing being a much stricter dom.

I see Ratchet and Bulkhead as switches personally.

Oh man, other than my typical "It depends on the situation" answer, let me think this through. Alright, so fyi I'm going to explain if they're a sub/dom, like being on top/being ridden, and if they enjoy getting their valves filled more than spiking (aka the Top/Bottom bit) Ratchet does enjoy being in control, but he's often pretty exhausted and starving, so it would be nice if you could take the reins without injuring yourself. He has some dom tendencies but is pretty mixed all things considered. He's happy being ridden or pegged in some way - but he's also just as eager to be on top and, if his partner allows it, use their dick/dildo as the world's smallest interface toy Bulkhead is a huge sub in my opinion. He prefers being ridden purely because it means he's less likely to accidentally injure his partner (dude chillll - you're doing fine). He's a lot more likely to let his human do as they please, he can adapt to just about anything. You can penetrate him too, he just doesn't feel as much unless you focus on his anterior node. His valve can take a good pounding, although sadly no human is capable of doing that

Wheeljack is rougher by comparison, a lot more willing to bruise his human in the heat of the moment. He's not afraid to push them to their limits, and he's just as eager to be used up. He's definitely the type to suggest you shove your entire arm in his valve. He doesn't care if he's on top or being ridden, he's going to find a way to be a bastard someway. He's an absolute brat even when he's in the dominant role, someone put him in his place Dreadwing (as I typically interpret him) adapts to his partner's behavior. He's typically more reserved but still capable of assuming a more dominant/strict role as we've seen in the show (channeling his inner squadron commander lol). If his partner's a brat and they like being manhandled, he's happy to do it (although carefully - he would hate to leave a mark). Otherwise, any position works for him - and he enjoys having his valve played with, which is way too sensitive for its own good