#because the damn thing got out of control

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Thinking about Sevika with a reader she thought was a bit on the innocent side finding out reader has her nipples pierced 🫠

Ok why have I never thought of this before? I love this request 🤫

Heaven Sent

Sevika x Female Reader

Cw: Hyper fem bartender! reader (the bartender part has little to no impact on the plot?). Sex: thigh riding, nipple play, biting.

On my soul if a man interacts. I will actually wage war.

Proofread || Note: I AM SOOO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, guys I’ve been so flipping busy it’s not even a joke anymore.

She thought you were an angel sent just for her. Walking around with a sense of femininity that reeled everyone in. It was the change in tone you directed at her; she thought you were into her. Mainly because you seemed to show the same interest back, as friends or not she thought of it as a win.

One thing that stuck to her was how “innocent” you looked. Even working at a bar— The Last Drop— you looked as if you’d never touched an inch if intimacy before. Sevika wasn’t fully understanding of why she thought of you in that way, but she did. To be frank, it was a turn on.

In the back of her mind, she liked thinking about ruining you. About feeling the skin you had hid underneath your delicate clothing. About showing you what else there was to life. About giving you pleasure; until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Eventually, she came around to talking to you. Having friendly conversations and making you laugh with her dad jokes. The woman always found your laugh.. lively, adorable, the way your nose would scrunch and you’d hide your face. It made her feel a sense of pride, knowing she could make someone like you smile.

But, the thing she was completely unaware of was that you weren’t the sweet, heaven sent angel she thought of you as. There was much more under your layered top that would have her jaw drop, and you wanted to see it for yourself.

You both knew there was something much deeper than a friendship, and on a slow night at The Last Drop, that tension was able to break.

You grab your purse, throw it over your shoulder, and walk towards the door. Sevika was busy with poker, winning every damn round and pissing off the men that surrounded the small table. But, as her eyes laid on you walking towards the exit, she surrendered to the men and decided to walk you home. It was the least a “friend” could do, right?

Wrong.

She ended up crashing her lips against yours and pinning you against your fluffy, cool sheets, flesh hand gripping your arch as she had you flush against her chest. You didn’t know how you ended up where you were now, but in all honesty you didn’t seem to give a shit. You’d had a huge crush on the woman atop of you for months, and finally having her touch you was the direction you’d been aiming for— and you got it.

Sevika’s dark lips planted kisses down your neck, marking your shoulders with hickeys. Just to let everyone know the pretty thing underneath her was.. well, her’s. Your palms were sweaty, heart was racing, and your face felt hot. Don’t get yourself started on your needy little cunt. There wasn’t anything convincing you to stop, everything was just perfect. The way she handled you, placing you on her lap. You were convinced you’d get laid, and it turned out that that was exactly what happened.

Without an utter, Sevika stripped you of your clothes. Bra bra and panties the only things left, causing her grey eyes to roam over your figure. With you straddling her, the woman was sure to lose control at any given moment. Which, made the situation further more intimate— thrilling. In a way.

She used her mech arm to steady herself, and that was it’s only purpose for she wouldn’t let it anywhere near you. With her flesh hand pressed against the small of your back, she pulled you closer. Chest against chest, you were sure she’d feel your piercing against her. But, no, she didn’t seem to. Too caught up in the moment? You thought so. A laced bra covering the metal that pierced through your skin, you let her kiss down to it, her fingers fiddled with the latch as she tried taking it off. The woman was struggling.

“Can’t do it?” Your voice hummed through her, and she scoffed. “Surprised you can’t take off a bra, Sev,” you teased, she gave you an eye roll in response before tossing your bra aside. “I’m not an—“ her silver eyes landed on your chest and she barely stopped her jaw from dropping. Her attention was fixated on the metal that pierced through your hardened nipples, the sight of it making her mouth, noticeable, run dry. Sevika was silent for a moment, and that moment felt like an eternity. She just stared, absolutely mesmerized by the sight. “What?” Your voice broke through the silence and she smugly chuckled, lips curled into a smirk afterwards. “Y’didn’t tell me about these,” her thumb pressed against your bud as she felt around; causing you to bite back a moan. “You never asked?” Was what she got in return, it was meant to be a tease but only ended up slipping out as a sigh.

“What’s next? You got your kitty pierced?” Her teeth sunk into your shoulder as she pressed your cunt against her front, mech arm gripping onto your thigh. Sevika wasn’t planning on using her prosthetic, but now having realized you weren’t as innocent she had thought, she wouldn’t hold back. Maybe even break you. “No, actually. I.. I don’t,” her flesh fingers gave your nipples a pinch. And, for a second, it felt like everything had begun to spin. You were uneasy in the best way possible.

Her taller figure leaned down against you as she kissed her way down to your chest, each peck hot and breathy until she wrapped her dark lips around you. Your eyes watched her as she ran her tongue over your nipples, licking the metal all the while gently sucking. Your body, from head to toe, was heated. On fire from her heavenly touch, even the way she pressed against you. You’d never been so close to the woman, only ever been given a tap or a shove. Nothing like this, and, boy, was it good.

“Does it hurt?” Eyes fixated on your right tit as her flesh hand kneaded your left. You shake your head at her question, barely able to keep yourself from loosing control. The woman, on the other hand, was enjoying having you in her mouth, just feeling all over your bud was enough to arouse herself. With a swift, steady movement, Sevika pressed her thigh against you; your cunt, more specifically. She let you rub your heat and work for your own orgasm. The woman even guided you, hand gripping your ass as she helped your hips rock. “Y’ever done this?”

“Have I ever.. done this?” You echoed, trying to wrap your mind around the question all the while trying to focus on the friction between your thighs. Both tasks left you hazy innthe head. This,” she gently bit down on your nipple; which you breathlessly moaned at. “I.. I guess?” You weren’t up to Sevika’s level, who had seen countless pussy with her fourty years of experience. The woman knew her shit, making you spread wider all the while attacking your bare skin. She seemed to be a beast in bed, biting onto your neck and leaving marks, even bruising your shoulder as a result of your pretty little noises. She enjoyed them deeply, even smirking proudly everytime she heard them escape.

Almost everything she did had you in a trance; her humm of approval against your neck, her grip on your ass, her breath tickling your sensitive skin, even her silver eyes; that were focused on you. She watched as your jaw dropped, lips parted, and eyes become lidded. Every bit of your reaction had her in a chokehold, especially knowing that the girl she once saw as an angel was now straddling her thigh, moaning in her ear, was as wet as water, and was rocking rubbing against her. It was something she found too attractive to not comment on, “pretty girl enjoying herself?” She murmured, knowing full well you were. “Mm-hm, I am, Sev, I am,” nonetheless your answer made her feel fuzzy— though she hid that from you, hid the fact that you made her all mushy, all soft.

You continued your grind against Sevika, rubbing back and fourth until you felt your orgasm pooling. Her every touch, brush, made every hair on your body stand. Every kiss, suck, bite, and grip left you with a clouded feeling. The release would be too good, you practically craved it. Growing desperate and needy, you rub harder. Your clit pulsed for more, a finger up your cunt possibly. “Uh-huh, look a’you. Such a cute little thing.” The woman purred, pressing her dark lips against yours. They held a sense of tenderness, too soft to be rough but too strong to be gentle. Even when her tongue ran over your bottom lip, it was as if she didn’t know how much you wanted. How much you could handle, even.

But, when your sweet, much needed orgasm finally hit, it was like every fiber in you screamed for the woman giving you pleasure. You clung to her; hands gripping her dark hair, face burried and nuzzling into her, and your hips lightly shuddering against hers. She’d gladly help you ride out your high. She wrapped her flesh arm around your waist as her mech helped the two of you keep balance, she pushed you to rock further until she was certain you were finished.

Heavily breathing and deeply satisfied, you kept close. Sevika, feeling the need to show affection, shifted the two of you on your sides. Her mech over your waist, flesh under your head, the woman kept you warm and comfortable. Never forgetting to pepper that precious face of yours with kisses, the type of kisses that get your heart to skip a beat. “You can ride.” She teased, entangling her fingers with your hair and brushing through. Carefull to not tug, pull. “I could do more than.. that.” Was your smug reply.

“More? ‘Least catch your breath, doll. I bet I could have you knocked out in a few.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

And thwn yo gust get married and have 8 kids.

[angelofthenight01]

Truth Serum

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

genre: flufy  ||     warnings: none

It all started, as these things often do, with a seemingly straightforward mission. Infiltrate a HYDRA base, retrieve some stolen tech, don't get captured, the usual. You were pretty confident, you'd been training with the Avengers for a while now, holding your own, even earning a few nods of respect from Captain America himself. You weren't exactly a superhero, more of a very skilled and adaptable support member, but hey, it paid the bills and got you close to, well... certain people.

You remember the moment the serum hit you. It wasn't dramatic, no needles, no villainous laughter. Just a rogue vial – accidentally knocked off a table by a HYDRA goon who tripped over his own feet, a testament to their competence – and its contents splashed right onto your cheek. It didn't taste like anything, but a second later you could swear you felt your brain doing the cha-cha.

"Are you alright?" Tony's voice was crisp over the comms. You knew he was watching the feed from his suit.

“Peachy,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm, even as the world around you started to look a little too vibrant. “Just feeling a bit… honest.”

“Honest?” Steve’s voice now chimed in with that trademark wholesome concern. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know,” you found yourself saying, “like, if you asked me if I liked the way the light caught your hair this morning, I’d say yes, Steve, you’re like a walking, talking golden retriever of justice and your hair is always perfectly coiffed. Sorry, am I oversharing?”

A beat of silence followed, punctuated only by the sharp crackling of your boots on the steel floor of the HYDRA base.

"Uh, thanks?" Steve said hesitantly.

“And Tony,” you continued, unable to stop the runaway train of your mouth, “your sarcasm is a coping mechanism, and sometimes it's a little predictable, but you're actually really good at inventing things, even if you pretend to hate trying.”

You could hear Tony sputter in disbelief. Before he could recover, you spotted your quarry – the tech – in a nearby room. And then you saw her. Natasha Romanoff, a whirlwind of controlled fury and ballet-like movements, expertly disarming guards left and right. Everything suddenly seemed… brighter. And also terrifying. Because, of course, the truth serum also seemed to have activated your inner monologue on high volume.

"Oh, damn it," you muttered, your voice still broadcasting. "You're so cool, Natasha, your hair looks amazing, are those tactical boots because you can be both deadly and elegant and it's totally not fair. I also think... I think..." You clamped your mouth shut.

There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath over the comms. You could practically feel Natasha's gaze burning through the screen and directly into your soul.

"Alright," Natasha said, her voice silky smooth, but with a definite hint of something dangerous lurking beneath. "You’ve had your moment. Let's finish this."

And that’s when you realised that you had a very, very big problem. You had a mission to finish, sure, but you also had to not reveal your crush on the world's most deadly spy. You could picture it now, if you even let a hint touch your tongue, it would be all over the tower, Tony would create a song about it, and Clint would laugh and draw cartoons of you in love struck positions.

You moved with newfound urgency, grabbing the tech and bolting for the nearest exit.

“I’m just gonna, uh, take this and go now,” you announced, “Gotta avoid... uh... social interactions. Bye!”

You broke into a run, your boots thundering on the metal floor, the comms going silent as everyone processed what had just happened. You could hear footsteps behind you, and you didn't need to look back to know who was trying to catch up to you.

You burst out of the HYDRA base into the cold night air, not caring where you were going, just knowing you needed to get away from Natasha. You sprinted across the snowy landscape, your breath puffing in white clouds.

Then, you hit a patch of ice.

You went down, hard, landing in a comical heap with a muffled oof.

“Are you alright?” Steve’s concerned voice came over the comms, making you groan.

“No,” you whined. “I just busted my butt. Also, I think I need to be honest with you all about the way I prefer to put my butter on my toast, and it’s not the way you would imagine, it’s much more…”

You cut yourself off before you could launch into a detailed explanation of your highly unorthodox buttering techniques. You scramble to your feet, wincing.

“I think I need to go home now!” you shouted, then took off running again, stumbling over the uneven snow.

“Wait!” Natasha’s voice called out from behind you again. Closer this time.

“No!” you yelled back. “I can’t, if I’m not running away, I’ll probably tell you I think you’re amazing and all of the romantic feelings I have for you and then you’ll get weirded out and it’s just, a whole thing!”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving behind a large snowdrift. You could hear Natasha’s footsteps pause, a beat of silence followed, and then you heard a sigh.

You peeked over the top of the snow drift, and saw the figure that was Natasha, hands on hips, a look of fond exasperation on her face. It made your heart do a little flip of emotion.

"Okay, fine," Natasha called out, "I'll give you some space. But you're not getting out of this conversation without explaining all that 'buttering' talk later. And your feelings." She added the last bit in a soft voice.

You ducked back down, a blush creeping up your neck. You could hear laughter coming through the comms this time, Tony, Clint and Steve having a field day. You might have also heard Thor laughing way too loud, then suddenly a deep growl, and then silence.

You knew you couldn't hide forever. But for tonight, you decided, you'd take your chances with the arctic wind over the truth serum and the very attractive woman currently stalking you. 

For now, your escape was enough. You would deal with the awkward, heartfelt, and hopefully not too embarrassing aftermath tomorrow. But tonight? Tonight you are just a very honest person with a severe case of avoidance and a very big crush. And that’s something, right?

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 11.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 0.8k

—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues

namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.

jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?

namjoon: i'll come to you.

jongho: alright then, boss.

Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.

"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."

"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."

"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."

"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.

He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.

"You tell me."

"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”

"Jongho."

"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."

"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"

"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.

"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."

"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."

"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that. 

It's just a matter of when.

"What if it was just a bad day?"

"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.

"I figured."

"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.

"Jongho." Joon repeats.

"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.

And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.

Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

Cause, yes.

"I can hear your thoughts."

Well, shit.

"I don't know what to say."

"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.

He's deserving of all good.

So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.

Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.

"Yes."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . rafe cameron x apple pie!reader

Rafe didn’t understand what everybody was always running their mouth about when they said shit like “you’ll meet a nice girl” “you’ll wanna settle down” because, in his experience, nice girls were atrociously boring and no one he ever wanted to be around. He was sure he’d shack up with some bitch and get married and pump out a couple kids because he had to, because that’s what he was supposed to do, but not because he loved someone so much he wanted to

That was, until he met you.

You, with your gentle beauty and the way your hair was always so close to perfect but never quite. The pleated skirts and the way you always smelled of cinnamon and, faintly, soil. Warm as a kitchen at dawn, quiet except for your laugh, which was loud enough to scare the birds out of the forest.

The thing about girls with rickety front porches and warm hands, though, is that you have to be on their best behavior around them—that’s what Barry said, at last: “Man, she’s not gonna want your coked-up ass. That typa chick wants a dude who builds a fuckin’ fence and shit. They don’t like rich dudes. Give it up.”

And unfortunately, Rafe was pretty sure he was right. You mostly kept your head down when you walked, and no matter how many things he leaned against, or how many times he casually smoked a cigarette near you, he just couldn’t get you to look his direction—and if you did, you didn’t grant a second glance to his crisp white shirts or his backwards hat.

His crowning last-stitch move was when he made a big show of helping his dear sister carry her bag when she was walking down the dock—it looked heavy, he wouldn’t want her hurting herself! She’s family, after all! Sarah had tried to wrestle the bag back and she flipped him off after he put it onto the boat for her, but it’d already had the desired effect… your eyes lingered on him for a moment. Family was important, after all. You were the kinda girl who cared about those things.

When the two of you started going out, he felt like his life was spinning out of control and simultaneously clicking into place. You had expectations for him, real ones. And a lot of the time when you said shit like “I’m making dinner tonight, don’t be late” or “wash your hands” Rafe wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, because you weren’t his damn mother—except when he looked over at you and saw your face, that wide-eyed, imploring look you always gave him, the words died in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?

He’d do something nice for you and you’d nudge his arm. “What, you sweet on me or somethin’?” He’d wonder who even talks like that, it’s weird. Then he’d find himself grabbing your pretty face and kissing you so hard you think he might break your nose.

Rafe was so, so well behaved with you. He kept it together so nice, all his unstable shit wrapped up into a neat little package tied with ribbon. He acted as a guy who smiled semi-often, and said thank you sometimes, and maintained eye contact with you when he was fucking you—all things that were new and unfamiliar to him. When you told him what time dinner was, he came over in time. He kissed your forehead and he meant it. For you, he did it all. Barry had been right. You wanted a well-behaved guy, and Rafe wanted to watch the way your smile took over your face when you were happy and the ecstatic look on your face when you came, so he was well-behaved.

That was, until he wasn’t.

He was supposed to come over at nine. You would’ve just gotten out of the shower (or maybe you’d still be in, if he got lucky) and you’d put your cute little plaid PJs on, and you’d climb on top of him and put your weight on his chest while the two of you watched some 90’s movie. The movie would get boring in act three and he’d watch you ride him, and then he’d cum on your stomach like a gentleman, and the two of you would fall asleep wrapped up in eachother.

Instead of that carefully constructed, lovely, dreamy evening—Rafe showed up at nearly three in the morning, covered in blood.

He knew you’d be asleep, he’d have time to wash his face and toss his shirt in the trash can out back before climbing into your bed with you. He didn’t wanna go home. He wanted to press kisses to your throat and apologize for being late, swear that it would never happen again and then make it up to you in the morning by making you cum over and over in your crisp red plaid bedsheets.

Instead, he found you sitting on a stool in your living room, head leaned against the wall, eyes heavy with sleep. Waiting for him. Rafe froze like a deer in headlights and waited for the inevitable, for you to call him a psychopath and beat him off the property with a broom.

You didn’t. You didn’t speak, just led him to the bathroom and wiped the blood from his face, carded your fingers through his hair. Threw his clothes into the rattling washing machine with a tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide, and then let him crawl into bed with you anyway. The two of you were silent, and he slung an arm over you. You settled into the crook of his armpit and fell asleep with your face smushed against his bicep, and he felt something horrible and unfamiliar blooming in his chest.

You could never leave him, he decided. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t survive that.

[justallihere]

Okay, I did some laundry, I've had lunch, I've breathed fresh air and taken some deep breaths (did not touch any grass because it's covered in snow), and we're back. My wrap up thoughts of Onyx Storm are below! Be warned it's chock full of spoilers, and these are all my honest opinions. I haven't even given this a rating yet because I don't really know what I want to rate it! Nothing's really in order so sorry about that. But I look forward to hearing everyone else's thoughts!

I loved that the importance of the bond between dragon and human was emphasized so heavily in this book. That Asher called Aimsir Lilith's first love, Violet telling Tairn he's the gift of her life, that even Halden knew that the true barrier to her would be the dragon bond - and especially that when Xaden channeled again, in a way that he knew would irreversibly damn him, he did it for Sgaeyl. To keep her safe, because she chose him before and above everyone else.

I adored the Riorgail of it all. They were open and honest with each other, saying I love you practically every other breath, declaring their loyalty and devotion to each other in front of anyone who would listen. I loved that we got them as a team, facing stuff together and trusting that what they couldn't the other could handle it.

On the other hand, it may just be me but they didn't quite feel like themselves. Maybe because it was the first time we've truly seen them be public about their feelings, but they didn't feel like the same Xaden and Violet from the previous two books. Xaden felt so intense that everything he said gave me anxiety, devoted to the point of obsession. I would actually call Violet morally gray here, but it came out of nowhere; there wasn't a great transition into that change in her character, none of the hesitation or guilt I'd expect.

In short, they kind of felt like my Xaden and Violet and not canon? I loved them, but I'm not sure it matches what we know of them from FW and IF and the change in character didn't feel entirely smooth.

But Xaden IS her sword!!!!

The worldbuilding was ridiculous. Violet was dropping facts left right and center like the details of the aristocracy and politics at play were common knowledge - and maybe they are in world, but if they're that obvious then I feel like those details should've been worked into earlier books. I felt like I was floundering trying to keep up with all the new names and titles and roles.

In the same vein, the lore about magic made no sense. So only the Continent has magic but why? Was it drained from other places? Does it only occur naturally in certain areas? Dragons don't have magic that exists within them - they also draw from the source which? Hello hypocrites much? That was another thing that was said so casually, but that should've been one of those things we learned in Fourth Wing, at Threshing or right after.

There was too much happening with the plot to the point that I lost it completely. The trips to the isles were overwhelming. I know the venin and the irids were tied together, but those two things competed so much that I kept forgetting about whichever one we weren't talking about. Literally just. . . forgot about the venin there for a bit in the middle. We were looking for a cure but we were looking for Andarna's kind but we were trying to stop the venin and we were also gathering allies and making trade deals and none of those points were fleshed out completely.

The ending was vague and confusing in a way that made me frustrated instead of interested or anticipatory. I read the last two chapters three times and I still don't know what the fuck was going on there. So the Sage is. . . Fen? Is Garrick the one who also turned? Bodhi? Brennan? Ridoc? Fuck if I know. I understand the point of the marriage, to give Violet control over Tyrrendor legally, but I'm also pissed at the way it happened.

I know we don't want anyone to actually die, but I literally didn't even flinch when Mira's throat got cut open because I figured she'd be fine. There were no important deaths. Trager and Quinn didn't hit that hard. Not putting any of the main characters in significant danger makes the stakes feel lower than they should.

The fan service made me roll my eyes. I get it to a certain extent, but there were several times when I legitimately kind of felt like RY had been in fandom spaces or someone on her team was just feeding her popular theories to include.

The marked ones having second signets was. . . not my favorite choice, because logistically it doesn't make much sense. We should statistically see at least one of them go mad from the power instead of developing a second signet. And I actually think if that had been included it would have been more interesting! I'd like to see the reality of the risks that were taken to make the rebellion happen, but instead they just got really really lucky a bunch of times?

The use of the word Riorgail in print sent me to the fucking moon. No.

Violet's second signet. . . I don't want to talk about it.

Actually no I do. Since when are signets based on situational need and not who a person is at their core? Was that not what we were told previously? Am I tripping? I don't mind the power itself but I am confused.

Professor Riorson had me on the ground laughing. What the hell was that. There are enough barriers to their relationship, and that one felt too forced (but great fodder for smutty fic).

The characters and their relationships are the standout of the book and the series. I already said I loved Xaden and Violet here, but I also loved their friendships and how real especially the relationship with Brennan and Mira and Violet felt. The humor and the quips and the squad's constant support of each other was wonderful.

I'm holding onto those Sloane and Dain crumbs like a teddy bear you all have no idea. I love them.

Aaric being the one with precognition I didn't see coming, but I surprisingly liked it! I loved him stepping more into his role as prince and seeing how cunning and smart he really is.

Halden was unnecessary but I live for possessive and jealous Xaden.

Overall I think the pacing was crammed and the worldbuilding left me with more questions than answers, but did I still like it? Yes! I don't think it's my favorite in the series but it still was an enjoyable read. I'll want to read it again at some point I think, but not immediately!

[luvst4rc0r3]

“The price of love”

Sevika x F!reader

Apocalypse AU

Warnings:death?

WC:681

Note: there is probably gonna be a part two because I cannot do sad endings😭

The safe house was barely standing. Wood creaked under the weight of the storm outside, and the faint smell of damp earth seeped through the cracks in the rotting walls. Sevika had you pinned beneath her on the tattered couch, her flesh arm braced beside your head while her metal one teased at your waist, her sharp smirk betraying her softer, unspoken feelings.

“You keep staring at me like that,” she murmured, her voice low and gravelly, “and I’m going to start thinking you actually like me.”

Your laugh was soft, shaky. The apocalypse had a way of robbing joy, leaving behind only desperate echoes of it. But Sevika? She was a living, breathing piece of joy you refused to let slip away. “Maybe I do like you. What then?”

“Then you’ve got terrible taste,” she teased, leaning down to kiss you. Her lips were surprisingly soft—one of those small, rare comforts in a world that had gone to hell.

The kiss deepened, and for a moment, you forgot about the rotting corpses outside. It was just you and Sevika, the weight of her frame grounding you as her hand brushed your cheek. You almost smiled against her lips, ready to whisper something about how you’d never let her go.

That’s when you heard it: the guttural growl.

“Sevika, behind you!” you screamed.

Her instincts were sharp, but not sharp enough this time. The zombie—a grotesque husk of what might’ve been a human once—lunged, its decaying hands reaching for her exposed back. It was too close. Too fast.

And without thinking, you moved.

You shoved her off of you, rolling into the creature’s path. Its claws sank into your shoulder before its teeth followed, ripping into flesh. Pain exploded, white-hot and blinding, but it was nothing compared to the fear in Sevika’s eyes as she realized what just happened.

“No!” Her voice cracked with rage and disbelief as she scrambled to her feet, her metal arm winding back to deliver a blow that crushed the zombie’s skull in one swift motion. Its body slumped over, but the damage was already done.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” she roared, grabbing you, her hands trembling as she tried to inspect the wound. The blood was pouring too fast. Too much.

“Had to,” you gasped, your vision blurring. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t lose you.”

“You’re not losing me, damn it!” Sevika barked, her voice shaking. She was panicking, for once utterly unable to control the situation. “We can—we’ll find something. There’s still time.”

You reached up, your hand brushing her jaw. “No time, Sev. You know that.”

Her lips parted as though to argue, but the words didn’t come. She knew you were right. Once bitten, the infection spread fast. Minutes, maybe seconds.

“You have to go,” you choked out, your body already feeling heavier. “Run. Before I…”

Her eyes burned with fury. “Don’t you dare tell me to leave you. I’m not—”

“You have to,” you interrupted, grabbing the front of her shirt with what little strength you had left. “I won’t be able to stop myself. You can’t stay. Not for this.”

Her jaw clenched, metal fingers twitching at her side. “I can’t—I won’t leave you.”

“Sevika, please.” Your voice cracked, and her name felt like glass in your throat. “You have to live. For me.”

She stared at you, the storm outside muffling the sound of her ragged breathing. Her good hand cupped your face as though memorizing every inch of it. “I love you,” she finally admitted, her voice breaking. “I should’ve said it sooner.”

You smiled faintly, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I know. I love you too.”

She kissed you one last time, a desperate, searing thing that left her trembling. And then, as your eyes clouded with the infection and your hand fell limp, Sevika stood. She didn’t look back.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you alone in the dark as the virus finished its cruel work.

And somewhere in the distance, Sevika’s scream echoed into the night.

Ain’t no way am I not making a part two

I want food and sleep

[sofa-king-lame]

48. Out of habit - Buddie

Oop this one got away from me a little. But here it is!

—

Four months after Christopher left for Texas, Eddie kissed Buck at a farmers market over the potatoes. It had surprised Buck so much he forgot what it was they even went to the farmers market for in the first place (Eddie had tagged along for the hell of it, just wanting to be around Buck). The sun was shining behind him, catching the natural highlights in his curls and when Buck had lifted up his sunglasses to inspect the purple sweet potatoes a little closer Eddie lost any sense of self control he had. Buck’s eyes crinkling against the bright light of the rising sun had been too much for Eddie to tamp down on, so he’d said ��fuck it’ to himself and grabbed the collar of Buck’s shirt to pull him in and kiss him absolutely senseless.

“Wanna get out of here?” Eddie breathed heavily when they parted. Buck had nodded fervently and followed Eddie wordlessly back to the Jeep. They made it almost all the way back to Eddie’s house holding hands over the centre console before Buck realised they’d left empty handed. Neither of them cared much when they kissed again at the front door, against the front door on the inside, in the hallway, the doorway to Eddie’s bedroom, then finally the bed.

They did go back the next morning and manage to actually get what they went for without traumatising any vendors.

Buck essentially moved in after that and they spent the next month (somewhat guiltily) enjoying having an empty house. Buck seemed to make it his mission to see exactly how loud he could make Eddie be, which is pretty damn loud as it turns out. Mrs. Parnell from next door refused to look Eddie in the eye the morning after a particularly excellent evening (it’s not Eddie’s fault it had been unseasonably warm so they’d had the windows open, and it’s also not Eddie’s fault he never knew sex could feel like that).

—

Buck gets up before Eddie every morning they’re at home together and is always waiting in the kitchen with coffee, breakfast, and a delightfully soft good morning kiss. They exist in a hazy bubble where the only thing that matters is them.

—

Eddie

Christopher messages Eddie and says he wants to come home five weeks after Buck and Eddie get together. They both cry a little over it, then Eddie spends two hours arguing with his parents on the phone about it.

“We just don’t think he’s ready,” Helena sighs.

“If he says he’s ready, then he’s ready,” Eddie groans. The only reason he’s not banging his head on the table in frustration right now is because Buck is next to him with a secure arm around his waist.

“But how can we be sure we’re returning him to a safe environment? How can we trust something like this won’t happen again?” Ramon asks. Eddie wants to break something, maybe hit someone. He chooses to grab Buck’s free hand and squeeze it instead. Buck returns his grip just as fiercely and presses a gentle kiss to Eddie’s temple (Eddie is incredibly grateful they’re not on a video call, he doesn’t think he could handle this alone).

“Maybe we should bring him and stay for a few days,” Helena suggests. The absolute last thing Eddie wants is for his parents to stay in his house for a few days, but if it means getting Christopher back without needing to seek legal advice he’ll do it.

“Fine,” Eddie replies through gritted teeth. “You can stay for three days.”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe a week -“

“This is my house,” Eddie reminds them, “and Christopher is my son. Three days.”

“Three days is fine,” Ramon concedes. Eddie hears his mother sigh unhappily, a sound he is all too familiar with (a constant presence in his childhood).

“We’ll be up this weekend,” Helena tells him before promptly hanging up the call. Buck is quiet beside him, still firmly gripping his hand.

“I have to go back to the loft, don’t I,” he says sadly, as Eddie drops his phone to the coffee table in front of him. It clatters louder than he thought it would but he barely registers it over the blood rushing in his ears.

“I don’t want you to,” Eddie murmurs, but he knows it has to be this way. His parents are already going to be questioning everything, and having Buck around all the time would probably only raise concerns ‘are you telling us you’re incapable of looking after Christopher yourself, Edmundo? Why is your coworker always here?’

“It’s okay,” Buck assures him. “This weekend is about getting Chris back, so that’s what you’re going to do. I’ll be here if and when you need me.”

“I’m not ashamed. I’m going to tell them,” Eddie insists, because the past month he hadn’t felt anything other than pure joy and contentment. He wants to scream from rooftops ‘I got Buck!’

“I know,” Buck smiles. “When the time is right. You got this, okay? Let’s get you your kid back.”

—

Buck

Buck ends up having to work the day Eddie’s parents arrive, but manages to at least be there when they turn up. The reunion between Eddie and Christopher is tearful and happy, and Buck sheds a few tears of his own when Christopher gives him a brief but tight hug.

“Missed you so much,” Buck murmurs as he hugs back.

“I missed you too,” Christopher mumbles as he steps back. Helena and Ramon are watching closely, meaning Buck is hyper-aware of his proximity to Eddie. Having spent the last month only stepping out of each other’s space to use the toilet and work, it’s borderline excruciating not being able to give Eddie’s hand a reassuring squeeze or place a grounding kiss on his forehead. Eddie meets his gaze over Christopher’s head and flashes him a tight smile, before grabbing his parents’ bags and hauling them inside.

“So, Evan,” Helena starts and Buck barely manages not to visibly flinch. He doesn’t think he’s ever referred to himself as Evan around Eddie’s parents, and he’s almost certain that if Christopher had been talking about him he would have called him Buck.

“It’s Buck,” Christopher and Eddie correct her at the same time. Buck notices the tension in Eddie’s shoulders ease a little at that, smiling at Christopher who ducks his head to hide his own grin.

“Right, of course. Buck,” Helena says dismissively. “Do you think Eddie is ready to have Christopher home?”

“I, uh. I don’t think that’s my call to make. That’s entirely up to Eddie and Christopher, isn’t it?” Buck coughs awkwardly. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Eddie interjects, sending Buck a pleading look.

“Okay. Then yes. I think Eddie has been ready for Christopher to come home from the moment he walked out the door,” Buck tells Helena bluntly. He won’t tell her what he really thinks, because he knows Eddie is trying to salvage his relationship with them for Christopher’s sake (even if Buck thinks they don’t deserve it).

“Maybe we should speak to your boss, Eddie. And you said you’re seeing a therapist, could we speak to them too?” Helena continues and this time Buck does visibly flinch. Eddie’s jaw tightens and Buck watches as he takes three deep breaths in a row before responding.

“No,” Eddie says simply. “We won’t be doing that. You can stay for the three days we planned if that’s what Christopher wants to feel more comfortable, but this visit isn’t about you assessing my capacity to parent my child.”

“Eddie we just want to be sure he’s safe,” Ramon insists.

“Christopher is safer here with Eddie than he is anywhere else,” Buck huffs. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t think it was true.”

“You work together, you don’t have an unbiased opinion on the matter,” Helena scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Buck hates her.

“Eddie is my best friend, so you’re right. My opinion isn’t unbiased. But Christopher is equally important to me, and I wouldn’t tell you he was safe here if I thought he wouldn’t be,” Buck snaps. Buck is now already running late for work, and although he desperately wants to stay and support Eddie he has to leave.

“Buck, it’s alright,” Eddie says softly, crossing the room to stand with him. “We’re gonna talk. You are late for work.”

“Yeah,” Buck mutters. “I’ll check in with you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs. It takes every ounce of Buck’s self control not to kiss Eddie goodbye, not to use his fingers to hook under Eddie’s chin and tilt his head up to rest their foreheads together, not to massage the tightness out of his shoulders. He settles on a quick clap on the shoulder as he heads out the door.

—

After his shift Buck heads home to dump his things and change into his running gear - it’s early enough in the morning that turning up at Eddie’s would raise too many questions, so instead he runs to their favourite cafe to get enough coffees and breakfast for everyone before turning up at a more normal time. Helena is out the front of the house as he walks up the driveway and observes him quizzically.

“Good morning!” Buck greets cheerfully. “I was out for a run and thought I’d swing by with coffee and breakfast.”

“That’s…very nice of you,” Helena says slowly. “Do you do things like this often?”

“All the time,” Buck responds after carefully considering his answer. “Eddie and Chris are both incredibly important to me, and I like to do nice things for them.”

“Hmm,” Helena hums. Buck chooses to ignore her as he precariously balances the bag of breakfast wraps on top of the coffee tray to open the door, toeing off his shoes before padding through to the kitchen. Ramon is at the table and shoots him a confused look as the starts to pull plates out of the cupboard.

“I wasn’t sure how the two of you take your coffee, but w- Eddie has cream and sugar,” Buck chatters, hoping they don’t notice him almost slipping up and saying “we have cream and sugar”. Because they’d bought both together a week ago, barely able to keep their hands off each other in the grocery store. Eddie’s parents arrived less than twenty-four hours ago and Buck is already very ready for them to fuck off back to El Paso. Knowing Eddie is in his their bed down the hall and he can’t climb in with him, even just to curl around him and nap for a few hours, is killing him. Buck suspects Eddie has been living in his very own special circle of hell over the last eighteen hours though, and he doesn’t want to make things worse. So he tosses two of the wraps into Eddie’s sandwich press to toast them, retrieves the cream and sugar for the coffees, and waits patiently for Eddie to get up. Helena joins Ramon at the table and they begin to whisper between themselves, Buck pointedly not eavesdropping (because he’s too tired to bite his tongue over whatever shit they’re probably saying about him or Eddie). He can hear Eddie coming down the hallway now anyway.

—

Eddie

Eddie blinks awake earlier than he has been on his days off over the last month, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up still half-asleep. He can hear Buck puttering around and makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen. Buck is watching the sandwich press and Eddie can smell their favourite breakfast wraps toasting away.

“Morning,” he murmurs, sliding into the almost non-existent gap between Buck and the bench. He kisses him softly, the way he’s done most mornings for the past month. Buck, however, stiffens underneath him and a loud gasp sounds from the general direction of the table.

“Uh - you, um -“ Buck stutters as Eddie suddenly remembers that his fucking parents are here. At his kitchen table. Deciding whether or not they’re willing to give him his son back.

“Fuck,” Eddie hisses. He steps away from Buck to find his parents staring at him, his mothers mouth hanging open. His father has gone bright red and his fists are clenched on top of the table.

“What was that?” Helena demands. “What on earth is happening here?”

“I was saying good morning to my boyfriend,” Eddie tells her, because fuck it. He’s proud to be with Buck, and he wants everyone in his life to know how fucking happy he is. “I forgot you were here.”

“Boyfriend?” Ramon sputters. “Boyfriend, Edmundo!”

“Yes, Dad. Boyfriend. If you’ve got a problem with it, you know where the door is,” Eddie responds coolly. Buck’s brushing his hand against Eddie’s, the way he does when he wants to hold hands but is letting Eddie take the lead. Eddie grabs his hand firmly and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to Buck’s knuckles.

“Christopher is coming with if you make us leave,” Helena warns.

“No I’m not,” comes Christopher’s voice from the doorway. “I’m staying here.”

“But -“

“No, no but. Chris wants to stay,” Eddie asserts, feeling braver than he ever has in front of his parents with Buck by his side.

“But Christopher, what about all those teachings from the church you enjoyed?” Ramon asks him. Helena has started crying, clinging to Eddie’s father and hiding her face.

“I hated church. You forced me to go, I never wanted to,” Christopher mutters. “It’s all bullshit anyway. Dad told me about him and Buck last night, and I want to move home.”

“Language, Christopher,” Helena admonishes harshly, and this is Eddie’s breaking point.

“Get out,” he snaps. “Christopher is not your child. He’s my child, and this is my home. He can swear if he fucking wants to.”

“This is not how we raised you, Edmundo,” Helena wails. Ramon is stony and silent, jaw set tight and staring at the wall behind Eddie’s head.

“I am grateful every day that I’m not the person you tried to raise me to be,” Eddie scoffs. Buck’s grip on his hand tightens and he leans closer, bumping their shoulders together.

“Eddie is the best person I know,” Buck interjects, voice wobbly. “Despite the two of you.”

“Who do you think you are, speaking to us like that?” Ramon finally snaps.

“He’s the one who’s been here for me all the times you should have been,” Eddie retorts. “Now get out of my house.”

“Christopher,” Helena pleads, but he ignores her in favour of crossing the kitchen to join Buck and Eddie.

“You should go,” Christopher mumbles. “I’m staying.”

“We’ll be in touch soon,” Ramon mutters as they fucking finally walk out of the kitchen. Eddie follows them to make sure they get their bags, watching until their hire car is no longer visible. It’s only then that he drops his shoulders, rolling them to relieve the tension that had rooted itself there the minute his parents pulled into his driveway.

When he returns to the kitchen he finds Buck hugging Christopher, his eyes red and watery.

“So proud of you, buddy,” Buck murmurs, giving Christopher one last squeeze before letting him go.

“That was really brave,” Eddie adds. “I was never brave enough to stand up to them when I was your age.”

“Whatever,” Christopher sighs, shrugging his shoulders. His pink cheeks betray the facade he’s putting on, as does the smile that breaks out across his face as Buck presents him with his breakfast wrap and hot chocolate. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Missed you, kiddo,” Buck says, but he’s looking at Eddie and grinning.

“Missed you too,” Christopher replies around a mouthful of egg and sausage. “Missed you, Dad.”

“I missed you so much, Chris,” Eddie tells him softly, sitting next to him at the table. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Y’know, with me and Buck.”

“Are you going to leave if you guys break up?” Christopher asks bluntly, looking at Buck.

“Never,” Buck insists. “I’m here for good.”

“Then it’s fine,” Christopher shrugs. “Just don’t be gross in front of me.”

“Deal,” Eddie chuckles. Buck gestures subtly to the living room and Eddie stands to follow him out, pulling him in for a kiss as soon as they’re around the corner. It’s a hell of a lot more chaste than most other kisses they’ve had in the last month, but Eddie bathes in its warmth anyway.

“You good?” Eddie asks, because he wasn’t the only one in the line of fire this morning. Buck had walked right into it for Eddie, defending him like it’s what he was born to do.

“I’m good. Are you good?” Buck replies, resting a hand on Eddie’s cheek.

“I’m great,” Eddie grins. “I’ve got my family back together.”

“You were amazing. I can’t believe you finally stood up to them like that,” Buck breathes. Eddie snorts because he doesn’t really feel brave - he feels like he lost his cool, but man did it feel good.

“Thank you for backing me up,” Eddie murmurs, pressing his forehead against Buck’s.

“We promised to have each other’s backs years ago. I’m not ever breaking that promise,” Buck whispers as he kisses Eddie again.

“I can hear you being gross,” Christopher calls out from the kitchen. Buck laughs and gives Eddie a peck on the lips before heading back into the kitchen.

“The deal was not to be gross in front of you!” Eddie argues, following Buck and sitting back down.

“Being able to hear it counts as in front of me,” Christopher counters with a huff.

“Fine,” Buck sighs, setting his and Eddie’s breakfast and coffees down on the table. “We’ll just be gross when you’re not looking or listening.”

“Yeah, you’re a teenager now. Not looking or listening is all part of the process of growing up,” Eddie teases. Christopher groans but doesn’t leave the table, and Eddie thinks he might be biting back another smile.

“We love you,” Buck tells Christopher, who was definitely biting back a smile (that’s now being hidden behind his cup of hot chocolate).

“Love you too,” he mumbles. Yeah, Eddie is good. Probably the best he’s ever been.

[eeboor]

i loveeee the headcanon that league viktor can’t like fully control the hexclaw. it just kinda does whatever. it tickles him and pokes him just to bother tf out of him (genuinely canon💀). i like to think its glow from its laser changes colors when he’s feeling different things (bro got a mood ring fr, also how’s that emotional suppressor working out for you V?), but he will deny that it does this until the DAY he dies. jayce and viktor are fist fighting (#divorceera) and the hexclaw forgets to lock in and starts wagging like a happy tail because jayce is there. viktor’s not even that happy to see him, the hexclaw is just picking up on the slightest iota of joy from his stupid inferior organic brain. viktor considers disassembling the damn thing right then and there. jayce catches him off guard with an upper cut.

[loviejohnnydovie]

John Price x fem!Reader

Mdni

I know this has been said before but I need John to fuck me so good that I cry

He likes to fuck like this because it gives him a sense of control he has missed since he stopped working in the field and moved to a cushier job behind a desk and closer to retirement. He’s still fit, god is he fit, because working out is the only way to keep his mind occupied, at least until he’s at home with you.

He likes feeling in control over your body. Feeling the way that you trust him in your most vulnerable state. It makes his head rush and focus in the way it did on high stake missions. Only now it’s not life and death, it’s making his girl feel good. He knows you need it by the stress that rests on your shoulders and nestles its way into the space between your brows. It’s a ton of foreplay consisting of John doting and caring for you, in the way you deserve. He’s just so damn competent that it makes your head swirl.

Soon, he has you bent over, arms pulled behind your back, wrists held between one of his as he pounds himself into you over and over and over until you’re practically melting into the mattress. Once he has you nice and pliant, he slows his thrusts to reach around and pull your back against his chest, he can’t leave his girl in such a strenuous position for too long after all. His burly forearm spans your torso, right between your breasts, and his hand plants itself around your throat. Not quite squeezing, but still there, cradling your body against his. Your combined sweat clings to the hair on his chest as he gets back to work, fucking into you so hard and deep that all you can do it hold on to the arm wrapped around you and take it.

He talks you through it. About how good you're doing, how good you feel, how you can take everything he’s got and more, how he's so proud of you, how you can trust him and let go until finally the dam breaks free and you're shaking in his arms. The first time this happened, you felt embarrassed, but now you know he does this on purpose. He wants you crying on his cock so he can build you up and put you back together. Because he needs this just as much as you do.

You cry and he coos at you, all the while still fucking you through orgasm after orgasm. He comforts you, telling you to let it all out as you come for the nth time. Finally, he turns you around in his arms, your back finally meeting the plush mattress below. He holds you to his chest, letting you cry into his neck as he fucks one last orgasm out of you as you calm down. He kisses you despite the snot that is surely on your nose. He cups your face in his hands like you are the most precious thing on earth, because to him you are, and he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks as you both come down from your highs. He rasps out how well you did, how well you took him and what a good job you did opening up your body like that. Trusting him to take care of you and trusting yourself to let him. He holds you through it all, helps you drink some water to start replacing all the fluids you lost. It takes a while for both of you to come down from your emotional highs, but when you do it is pure comfort. He cleans both of you up without leaving your side, he prepares extensively when he plans on taking you apart like this, and he makes sure you feel cherished and loved. John always takes good care of his girl, especially if he has to fuck her so hard she cries.

[genderqueerdykes]

Another weird thing about the TME/TMA thing is that the people who push it often believe that any suffering or bigotry we face for being transmasc is by nature lesser. When like I can list on and on the social alienation and violence we face and have faced myself as a transmasc person.

And also it doesn’t fucking matter what intent a bigot has behind their violence, if they’re pointing their violence at me I’m still a victim of that violence! I had a friend almost got attacked while walking down the street cause he’s a trans dude who was wearing drag. Like aw man sorry you got attacked by violent bigots, it seems however your labels don’t match up with that bigots intent. Guess what happened to u doesn’t mean anything!!!! What a weird concept.

i'm sorry you experience it as well. it sucks ass, i'm so tired of people trying to weigh transmasculine oppression vs. transfeminine oppression on a scale to see which one's heavier. like stop that, why are we trying to compare situations to see who has it worse? why are we telling people who are also oppressed that their struggle is "lesser"? what does that accomplish? all it does is hurt the person being downplayed. it doesn't uplift trans women to put other people down. that's not how this works.

i really don't fucking understand this current mindset of "person who has it The Worst gets to talk all the time forever for as long as they want and be as rude as they want and everyone who has it Less Bad has to shut the fuck up and sit with rapt attention and listen and never speak or comment or have an independent thought of their own on what they got lectured on." those people still have problems even if they're ""less"" bad, why do only certain groups of people get to talk about them? everyone in the queer community has problems, it doesn't matter the "severity," they all deserve to be discussed. and yet.

i'm really sorry that happened to your friend, holy shit. that is terrifying. but it happens. you're dead on the money. it doesn't matter what their intent is. they committed an act of violence. it does NOT matter what was going through the attacker's mind. they chose to commit an act of violence. sitting there on your petty ass high horse going "well akshually, i have a transfem friend who got attacked by TWO bigots and it was way worse so be grateful and shut up," isn't helping a goddamn soul. please stop shutting people up when they talk about their pain and trauma.

i don't know how else to tell every other transfem and trans woman on this website that we are not the only trans people who suffer. like i really need every single one of us to step down off the damn horse already and admit that we aren't the only fucking queers that suffer because we're not. we can't keep controlling the narrative like this. that's what we're doing at this stage. we are COMPLETELY controlling the narrative, making it ENTIRELY about us and our suffering and how we have it bad. we DO have it bad. but other people do, too. y'all GOTTA accept that other people suffer. y'all GOTTA accept that trans men are assaulted and killed every single day for being trans men. y'all GOTTA accept that most trans men don't and will never benefit from patriarchy. y'all GOTTA accept that transmascs and trans men have it really, really damn bad too.

i am honestly just so sick of the victim complex already. can we finally discuss how these currently emerging transfeminine and trans woman victim complexes are just out of fucking control at this point. i've wanted to talk about this forever and it's just getting worse right in front of my damn eyes. i've been in transfeminine spaces for a long time, but lately i just don't have a single desire to spend time in them. way too much arguing. way too much hostility. way too much anger directed at the wrong people. yes we are miserable, yes we suffer, yes we are heavily oppressed, yes we ARE very much victims. but so many transfems and trans women make that their entire ass personality and it's gotta stop.

womanhood isn't about being a victim. i don't know if i like the idea of making "woman" and "victim" synonymous. that's not empowering. that's not feminist. if you only see yourself as a victim, that's what you'll be. you will never progress to being a survivor if you keep thinking like that. you can't turn being a victim into a personality. it's a state of being, but it's not an identity. you are relinquishing power when you voluntarily identify as a victim. you are surrendering your control voluntarily if you keep throwing your hands up in the air and giving up like this.

someone else talking about their suffering doesn't diminish ours. someone else talking about their pain is not somehow an attack on you. trans men and transmascs talking is not an attack on you or transfemininity or trans womanhood. trans men existing are not an attack on you! stop with the victim complex already! it's not empowering! not everything is an attack! the world sucks but not everything is an attack on trans women and transfems!!!

i don't fucking care how much it offends you that people other than you suffer, but they're not talking about their suffering to make you feel like yours is lesser.

so why are you doing it to them?

[shyamanuensis]

sisters bf!sebastian - headcanon

sisters bf!sebastian who drops by your place unannounced and often grumbles when you tell him your sister isn't home yet. he could leave, but hey - why not watch another movie together like you always tend to. the house is empty; so is the couch; and it's not like anything is ever going to happen between the two of you.

sisters bf!sebastian who never forgets your birthday - even though it isn't something that should necessarily be on his calendar. this year he got you a cd of your favourite band. last year, it was a book that you'd been trying to find forever but was sold out all over town. the year before, your favourite candy bars which you could have sworn were out of production at the time.

sisters bf!sebastian that just so happens to leave the bathroom door ajar when he's showering. he knows you're curious - god damn merlin of course you sneak a peak in every now and again when you wander by. the way his hair when wet sits like an adorable mess; the low rise of the towel he has wrapped around his waist; the freckles and scars on his back that you're a little to eager to get up close and know in a more… intimate way.

the way that sisters bf!sebastian tells you to stay out of trouble and not do anything stupid when you advice your sister that you're heading out on a date. his eyes narrow, his voice becomes huskier, the gaze that washes over you when you greet your date at the door has an uncomfortable weight to it that you try not to read into; but can't help but wonder if there's not a tad inch of jealousy involved.

whenever you're in a tight space - hallway, kitchen, passing through the front door; and meet one another, sisters bf!sebastian does that infuriatingly innocent thing where he rests his hands on your hips and slides straight by you, his chest coming into contact with you every single time which makes your mouth dry. sometimes depending on proximity, his lips will skim across your hair or temple and you swear you hear him chuckle every - single - time, but perhaps you're just going crazy.

sisters bf!sebastian that drops a dirty joke or innuendo your way in conversation that sounds perfectly innocent but you definitely know better. you can't reach something on a shelf - 'need something to get up on?'; when you're trying to fit the dirty dishes in the diswasher but can't because the plate you've got in hand is bigger than the rest of them - 'here, don't worry; it might be larger than the rest but i can make it fit'. things would be totally fine if these lines weren't delivered with that mischievous smirk tugging at his lips or the playful glisten of his coffee coloured eyes you just happen to get lost in.

warmer weather - yeah sisters bf!sebastian is walking around without a shirt on because… well it's just his thing apparently. your sister just loooovesss raking her nails across his chest any chance she gets and you're more than aware of the bruises and hickeys she's left on him as claim that you wouldn't mind if you were the reason behind. when the weathers cooler? he does that attractive boyish thing of half rolling his sleeves before pushing them up. just when you think you've got yourself composed and under control, he'll comb a hand through his hair and watch as you practically melt in front of him.

rest of the boys coming soon xo

[k0nanharv3y]

OKAY I CANNOT LET THIS DIE

Part 1 of this bullshit

"Hero? Villain? or misunderstood mind?", "Has he done more good for Gotham than its own inhabitants? What Wayne has to say about it", "The reality of the situation; Statistics of the recent attacks on Wayne Enterprise and Gotham City"

Tim didn't read the newspaper, it was boring, he didn't like it and he didn't have time to read the latest gossip from Gotham when he was most likely there. And he didn't need a piece of paper for that, that was contamination, he could get all the information he needed with just one search. So, yeah, Tim didn't read the newspaper

But then Riddle was imprisoned without even knowing it thanks to the newspaper and so Tim set himself the task of checking every single newspaper that ever mentioned him. And damn... Reddit was a thing when it came to twisting things, but this? This is blatant show-telling

Some called him a villain who didn't know how to do his job (in the first cases, really understandable, Tim barely knew what he was doing), but he had never set out to harm Gotham and apparently some people got angry...? Because... because he didn't kill anyone? (Joker doesn't count, he wasn't anybody) ...???. Others dared to lump him in with the Bats (And God bless the spilled coffee he spat out while choking reading that) saying how come; Apparently Tim was seen as a good guy and the explosions and cyber attacks on Wayne Enterprises had not been him but another rogue who was defeated by Tim???. But the others called it "The Evolution of Batman" and refuted his statistics. Batman's way was to go out and beat them until they calmed down, Tim's way was to cut them off at the root (Joker exploding in a building was nothing more than poetry. But the trafficking networks were eradicated by giving legal and stable jobs to those who distributed it, Tim didn't take their lives, not the literal ones at least, Tim changed them)

He finished high school early and dedicated himself to helping Gotham. It wasn't even illegal (stealing from the rich isn't illegal, their mere existence is illegal and unjust) Tim wasn't a villain, the citizens of Gotham seemed to love him just like they loved Batman; and if some building had to be blown up, at least nobody lived there and it was only to piss off the Bats

Batman's attempts to stop him seemed to cease... But Tim was greedy once... just once, and that led him to mess with forces he couldn't control. And then there was a price on his head, and Shiva and Deathstroke were after him. Because Ra's doesn't find it funny that a 14-year-old kid hacks into his systems and steals money to give to the poor. Shiva ended up being kind of... weird? She didn't kill him, but she threatened him that she would sooner or later, when Tim is a real threat to her (Tim learned to fight, thanks Shiva, but fuck it, it hurt) and Slade let him live because...??? I mean, he slit his throat and gave him enough trauma to last a lifetime, but he let him live... Tim doesn't think he's that lucky, this was already playing god

And then Ra's killed his mother

///

The irony is that Tim didn't WANT his mother, of course, she was his mother and he loved her deeply, but... it was like, a love out of responsibility, Tim was a child who was presented with, look, these are your parents and you must love them and respect them because they are your parents. That Janet's death hurt him so much... it was more a matter of pride, Tim didn't want revenge because Ra's killed his mother, he wanted revenge because Ra's killed his mother

And now he wasn't going to stop Gotham from burning. He was going to create the fire for Ra's to burn with whatever it took

If Batman stopped him, he didn't care, Tim had nothing to lose. His mother was dead and Ra's would pay for it

///

This is... actually before Batman's death, but after Damian became Robin, I'm working on this as I write, I don't have anything planned so...

Someone: Oh! Plot Hole!

I throw a brick at them and make sure they don't move anymore

Me: You didn't see anything.

Part 3 because i forgot to mention it

[risingsoleil]

linzin getting getting secretly married as teens (16/17) and having twins (17/18) + the gaang's reaction plz 🙏🏾

They go to the Fire Nation to get married, and have Izumi help them pull it off.

She's so confused about why they want to get married so soon, and why they can't just do it in RC. None of Linzin's reasoning makes any sense, but they won't shut up about it so Izumi agrees to help pull some strings and have them officially married.

"You can be our kids' godmother," Lin adds slyly.

Izumi is now convinced and doesn't ask any other questions.

They officially register the marriage in the Fire Nation.

Linzin promises that they'll have a proper wedding some time later, and invite Izumi to that one.

Lin and Tenzin have their own little date on Ember Island as their "wedding". Izumi gives Lin a very nice dress to wear as a marriage gift, and some birth control for Tenzin lol

Tenzin also does not have his tattoos, and Lin wanted to marry him before he got them.

"Why?" he asked her as they watched the sea from their cabin.

Lin traced his cheek, then looked at his forehead where an arrow would one day show his heritage. "Because I married Tenzin for Tenzin. Not Master Tenzin. I committed to you because I love you, not who you are to the world."

They return to RC, and no one still knows that they're married. They like it and want to keep it that way.

A secret just for themselves, and no one else.

Then Lin gets pregnant.

Toph is a bit annoyed because Lin is young still and "unmarried". Feels like Lin would have made better choices, despite her poor parenting choices.

Katara and Aang feel a bit disappointed in Tenzin because this is a huge responsibility. They assume that this was handled carelessly because horny teens wanna bang :3 and don't consider consequences.

Katara also feels like "my baby is gonna have a baby?! No, not yet! I can see Bumi doing this, but Tenzin? My baby?! No, no, no..."

Sokka trying to make sure the kids don't get killed from their parents, but also watching with popcorn on the side.

"Actually Mom...about the whole marriage thing..."

"What now? You gonna tell me you, Junior, managed to convince Lin to marry you?" Toph mocks.

Lin and Tenzin bit their lips.

"You gotta be kidding me. Did you two really get married?!"

Aang: "YOU'RE MARRIED?!?!"

Sokka: "Oh shit, wait til Zuko hears about this!"

Katara: "SINCE WHEN?!"

Tenzin: "Uh...last summer when we went to the Fire Nation...we registered our marriage and had Izumi help us..."

Sokka immediately trying to radio Zuko lol

Now the parents are mad that there was no wedding and they weren't involved

"Well, at least the twins won't be illegitimate! Tenzin and I are married, and...and there's no shame in us having a family!"

Silence.

"Did you...just say twins?"

Toph puts a hand on her hip and hits Aang. "Yeah, you didn't sense the two heartbeats? Damn, your seismic sense sucks now."

Lin protectively puts a hand over her abdomen. "Yeah, it's twins..."

The entire ordeal is a whirlwind of emotions for the family, but they definitely overcome it and fully support Lin and Tenzin. But they do insist on planning a wedding before the twins arrive and preferably before Lin starts to show.

Zuko on the radio like "Izumi married Lin and Tenzin, and she didn't tell us?! Now they're having kids? And then they're having an official wedding?...this sounds like an Ember Island Player play..."

Linzin has a private and small wedding with all of the Gaang + gaang jr. and a few close friends. Lin is about 4 months pregnant and she's just starting to show a little, but she holds a bouquet of flowers to conceal bump.

Suyin is also helpful during the pregnancy and not causing as much trouble in general, so Lin avoids getting scars in this AU.

In the winter, Lin and Tenzin welcome twin boys into their family.

Every difficult emotion their parents had when they found out about the secret marriage + teen pregnancy is completely gone now. They fawn and absolutely adore the sweetest baby boys in the universe.

Toph and Sokka are ready to corrupt them and make them their partners in crime.

Katara and Aang are ready to retire and just focus on being grandparents. Aang tries to take on less work in favor of his grandsons.

Zuko and Mai spoil the boys with gifts and toys whenever they join.

Kya and Bumi only care about their nephews, and lowkey forget Linzin exists lol

Suyin loves to play with the twins and learns some responsibility through babysitting and spending time with them.

Izumi is soon pregnant and learns pregnancy and parenting tips from Lin and Tenzin.

[pinepickled]

You're forgetting that both Scott and Stiles, because he plays a very big role in the killing stigma too, especially for Malia, already think of her as a killer. When she finds the body the dread doctors killed first, they don't believe her. She tries saying it wasn't her, that there were people with masks, and the both of them just purse their lips and look away from her. Granted, it doesn't help that every other scene she's in, her first instinct is to kill, but it does reveal why she behaves in that manner. Every time she sees a credible threat that more than likely is going to attempt to kill her and the people she cares about, and when she offers a surefire solution to make sure they don't, Scott is there to refuse her. What does Scott do to make her think any differently? He let Peter and Gerard roam free and they both became repeat villains, with Gerard even being a key figure in teaching potentially hundreds of people how to effectively kill werewolves.

Also, Scott knew where the Desert Wolf was heading long before he saw Malia and Braeden together. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Malia will do when faced with her, given her solution to everything is the same. And that can be a flaw of her character! She's maybe too disinterested in living as a human and being merciful to her enemies in the name of forgiveness! but this isn't a criticism of Malia, it's a criticism of Scott.

As for Jiang and Tierney, they actually say that rather than being hunted, they choose to hunt the hunters. Aka, kill or be killed. They used public databases to track down people suspected or known of killing werewolves. Is it only right to kill someone when they have a gun actively pointed towards your face? Satomi tried reasoning with the hunters and ended up dying for it. You also say yourself that the show calls out Scott because war time is different, so why even bring this up at all? Hunting isn't exactly a morally neutral profession, their sole purpose is to kill supernatural beings. They don't believe in second chances, and a lot of them don't even have a code, especially in 6B.

I wouldn't call the Orphans murder as being framed as bad. Garrett died for all of 2 seconds and then everyone moved on. There was no remorse or hemming or hawing about wanting to give a known assassin a second chance. He hurt Liam, blackmailed Scott, challenged a berserker, and got his shit rocked. Not an ounce of grief or remorse was shown in the show. Garrett was also not under arrest, he was actively trying to break his girlfriend out and evade punishment. When Scott finds Violet, he looks shocked, but not particularly torn up about it. The narrative also never brings it up again. It's played for shock value and nothing more. So no, their murders were not framed as bad, just shocking, like all melodramatic murders in teen wolf. There is a difference.

The Mute was shown to be a 'murder is bad' moment, but only because Peter was the one to kill him. His death was not an inherent tragedy, no one mourned the mute or thought of what could've been, it was just used to show that Peter wasn't with the new pack ideology. Again, no sanctity of life argument, barely a hint of due process, and no one in the narrative gave a fuck that he was dead. There needs to be a little more than just 'damn' when a villain dies for me to believe the show actually wants to make a point of sparing even the 'evilest' of people.

So far we have 2 murders that were just ignored consequentially by the narrative, and 2 you admit were justified out of season 4.

I already acknowledged that Gerard killing Matt was an unjustified murder, however it's only unjustified so far as it's Gerard dealing with him and gaining control of the Kanima. Again, not a sanctity of life and 'finding a better way' thing, just a tool to further the plot for Gerard being the series villain, like Peter and the mute.

You bringing up Jennifer just proves my point further. It's not Scott who needs to kill her ultimately, it's Deucalion. So like I said, to justify Scott's morals, the writers insert more morally reprehensible characters to do the killing instead, keeping Scott's hands clean.

Because that's what I said from the *start*. Scott is hypocritical. He insists on sparing people who are actively threatening people's lives, people he cares about, on the basis that it would make them 'as bad' as 'the bad guys'. When that doesn't work because the 'bad guys' really want you dead, he is not the one who ultimately needs to make the kill. It's shoved onto someone else.

Scott didn't need to say he approved of killing Theo because he literally just stood there while he was begging for help, and then the scene fades to black once he's gone. Like, okay. Guess that was fine. No need to discuss that with Kira. What was that about finding better ways? And then in 6A when he comes back, not even the consideration of another chance despite Theo begging for one and then proving himself over and over. It was only Liam vouching for him pretty aggressively that Scott even began to back off, still with the threat of killing him again if he slips up! Again, someone who's done objectively less evil than other teen wolf villains who were spared/who scott refused to kill.

That conversation was also Scott expressing 1. his pack was getting a lot more violent and 2. expressing guilt for continually refusing to be the final blow and pushing more insecurity onto the pack, as well as danger. You're right, and I don't disagree with you. He does think it should be him. It just never is, funnily enough. That's what I've been saying. And not one season later, he tries to shirk the responsibility of being the final blow again, by trying to get peter and deucalion to do it. What happened?

Some musings about Scott's morality (probably not very common and a little controversial)

Scott McCall’s adherence to his no-kill rule can be seen as both a moral stance and a psychological defense mechanism, shaped by his own fears, insecurities, and desire to preserve his innocence. At its core, Scott’s refusal to kill, even when faced with situations that may arguably call for it, reflects a deeper internal struggle to maintain a clear sense of right and wrong. However, this rigid adherence to his ideals, especially when it leads to others suffering, reveals underlying contradictions in his character.

Scott's moral code is largely centered on protecting his own sense of innocence and moral purity. By clinging to the no-kill rule, he avoids the emotional burden of directly taking a life, even if it means allowing harm to befall others. Psychologically, this allows Scott to protect his self-image as a "good" person. His reluctance to engage in lethal violence can be seen as a defense against the guilt and moral ambiguity that would come with making more ruthless choices.

In the case of the Kanima, Scott's refusal to kill Jackson despite the clear threat he posed to others shows how his need to maintain his moral boundaries outweighs the immediate threat to those around him. His insistence on finding non-lethal solutions, while noble, reflects an almost selfish prioritization of his internal morality over the safety of others.

There’s also an aspect of moral superiority in Scott’s unwavering no-kill stance. He often positions himself as the moral compass of the group, but this also gives him a sense of control over situations. By dictating that no one should kill, Scott maintains his leadership position and moral authority. However, this control is built on a framework that isn’t always flexible or responsive to the nuanced, dangerous situations he faces. His rigid moral stance can put others at risk, as seen when lives are endangered by the Kanima’s rampage while Scott focuses on preserving Jackson’s life.

Scott's no-kill rule can be seen as a form of psychological conflict avoidance. Killing someone would force him to confront the darker aspects of his role as a supernatural leader and protector. By adhering strictly to his rule, Scott avoids the internal conflict that would come from crossing that line. In a way, Scott’s reluctance to kill is an avoidance mechanism that keeps him from fully engaging with the morally complex world he inhabits, allowing him to maintain a black-and-white view of morality.

While Scott views his refusal to kill as a form of self-sacrifice, it can often lead to the sacrifice of others instead. In situations like the Kanima case, where innocent lives are at stake, Scott’s refusal to make the hard choice arguably protects his own conscience more than it protects the people he’s responsible for. This can be seen as an attempt to shield himself from the psychological toll of killing, while others bear the physical consequences of his inaction. It’s a form of indirect selfishness—by preserving his own sense of moral integrity, he unintentionally places the burden of suffering on others.

Scott’s no-kill rule is a complex and flawed psychological mechanism. While it is rooted in a genuine desire to be morally upright, it often causes harm by preventing him from making hard but necessary choices. His strict adherence to this rule can be seen as a defense against guilt, moral ambiguity, and the loss of his own innocence, but it also exposes him as someone who prioritizes his internal morality over the safety and well-being of those he is meant to protect. In this way, Scott's idealism becomes a form of moral tunnel vision, where the desire to remain "good" leads to greater harm for those around him.

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy

[okkennymay]

This time around I thought I would make a comic relaying the events after the last time I posted, because my gosh is it easier to explain with pretty pictures than upsetting words >vO I prefer to make jokes about my situation than anything, ‘cause honestly it’s a solid way of dealing with it and I take so many medications as it is, why not add laughter to it I say! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Despite my condition’s best efforts I still managed to organise and complete a commission with someone through emails! Thank you @waezi2 you were so patient as I arose from my grave every other day to get things done (❁´◡`❁) Fighting my body and winning to complete it was the victory I needed! The sheer satisfaction I get from a commission well received by someone is like pure nectar to me~ Sweet sustenance I just can’t get enough of! The money don’t hurt either, Disability Support Pensions do not go far in this economy 👀 This is as close as I can get to having a job and I wont let C.V.S (Cyclic vomiting Syndrome) or Chrohns take that from me! 

I’m raring to dive into more if anyone’s interested ♪(´▽｀) I’m just about to post a new “commissions sheet” to broadcast that very fact >vO I do love having something to draw between Ectober pages~