#but I had to establish this 'background' first

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Cotton Candy

MDNI!!!

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to my bby girl @ethanhoewke! Ily mwa <3 as always, beta read by @teaflavoredwitch. Bucky Barnes x female reader, established relationship, PORN, p in v sex, blow job, oral fixation, finger sucking, biting, choking, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, hair pulling, lingerie, slow dancing, light dom/sub, gentle dom Bucky, sweet & fluffy, boyfriend Bucky, TFATWS Bucky

My 200 follower fic raffle is going on here!

Word count: 9.2k

“Hi Bucky,” You chirp sweetly as his front door swings open, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You looked up at Bucky, your eyes sparkling with excitement and nervous anticipation. The pink fabric of your dress swished around your thighs and hugged your body like it was made just for you. You tried your best to look perfect for your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, hair done in that style you know he likes, minimal makeup only to accentuate your natural beauty. Bucky always had a way of making you feel like the prettiest woman in the world, even when you had food poisoning and he came over to take care of you. And tonight, you hoped it would be your first time sleeping with Bucky, so you felt the need to go the extra mile.

Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes roam appreciatively over your figure as he stood there, taking in every curve of your body draped in that soft, pretty pink dress. The color suited you perfectly, bringing a rosy glow to your cheeks and a sparkle to your eyes that made his heart do funny things in his chest. He had to remind himself to close his mouth, snapping it shut as he met your shy gaze. A slow, warm smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Well, don't you look like a dream come true," he murmured, his deep voice soft and slightly rough, like velvet wrapped in sandpaper. He stepped closer, reaching out to take your hand, his calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin as he brought it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

He lingered for a moment, his lips still pressed against your hand, before he reluctantly let it go. The scent of your perfume, something sweet like vanilla, filled his nose and made him want to pull you closer. But he resisted, knowing he had to take this slow. He wanted tonight to be perfect for you.

Bucky stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. As you crossed the threshold, he couldn't help but admire the sway of your hips, the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves in all the right places. He swallowed hard, feeling a familiar heat pooling in his gut. But he pushed those thoughts aside, wanting to focus on making this a night you’d never forget.

Once inside, Bucky took your coat, hanging it up in the closet before turning back to you with a soft smile. The apartment was dimly lit, candles flickering on every surface, casting a warm glow over everything. Soft jazz music played softly in the background, the kind of music he knew you loved. He had even gone out of his way to dig his record player and collection of vintage vinyl records out of storage to set the mood.

But the real piece de resistance was the table set up in the living room. A white tablecloth draped over a small, round table, with two place settings, complete with fine china and crystal glassware. A bucket of ice chilled a bottle of champagne, while a single red rose tucked into a vase in the center of the table. The scent of Italian food wafted from the kitchen, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air.

Bucky watched as you took in the scene, your eyes widening in surprise and delight. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, knowing that he had done all of this for you. It may not have been much, but it was a start. A promise of so much more to come.

"I wanted tonight to be special," he explained softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone. "I know we’ve only been dating for a little while but I really like you and I wanted to give you a reason to smile. To remind you that you deserve to be cherished and adored." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "And I want to be the one to do that. I want to be the one to make you feel loved, babygirl."

His voice was low and rough with emotion, a raw honesty to his words that sent a shiver down your spine. He could feel the way your body responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat. It spurred him on, made him want to do so much more. He wanted to worship every inch of your body, to show you exactly what you meant to him.

But he knew he had to take this slow. Knew that he had to let you set the pace, to make sure you were ready for this step. So he pulled back slightly, his hand falling away from your cheek as he looked down at you with a soft, tender smile.

“What do you say we have dinner first, huh? Then maybe we can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, see where the night takes us?" He smirked, a playful glint in his blue eyes as he held out his hand for you to take. "I promise I'll be on my best behavior. At least until after dessert." He winked, trying to keep the mood light and teasing, even as a heady promise lingered beneath his words.

He knew what he wanted tonight to end with. Knew that he wanted to make love to you, to show you the depths of his feelings and the commitment he was willing to make to you.

A huge smile spread across your lips, making your nose crinkle slightly. You brought a hand up to your chest, clasping it over your heart as if to contain the fluttery feeling growing there.

“Wow," You breathed out happily, "This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bucky! I can't believe you did all of this for little old me." Your voice was filled with genuine awe and appreciation, a light blush blooming across your cheeks.

You did a slow turn, taking in every detail - the flickering candles casting a warm glow, the record player spinning a vinyl, the table set for romance with the finest china and crystal. The aroma of Italian cuisine teased your nose, making your stomach rumble softly. You felt like a princess in a fairy tale, and Bucky was your dashing prince. You turned back to face him, looking up at him, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy.

"Bucky, this is...I don't even have words. It's like a dream come true," You murmured, reaching out to take his hand. Your fingers trembled slightly as they entwined with his much larger, calloused ones. You could feel the heat and strength of his touch, and it made your heart race in anticipation. And in that moment, standing there in his apartment, you had never looked more beautiful to him.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to Bucky's cheek, your lips soft and warm and tempting. When you pulled back, you smiled up at him shyly, a newfound confidence and hunger burning in your eyes. Bucky couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and satisfaction as he watched you take in the romantic scene he had so carefully crafted just for you. The way your eyes widened in awe and your cheeks flushed a soft, rosy hue was all the confirmation he needed to know that he had done something special. Something right.

When you turned to face him, your hand reaching out to take his, Bucky felt a jolt of electricity course through his body at your touch. Your fingers were so small and delicate in comparison to his calloused, work-roughened hand. He could have easily crushed them, but instead, he held them gently, reverently, as if they were the most precious thing in the world to him.

And in that moment, they were. You were.

Bucky listened as you spoke, your voice soft and filled with a genuine enthusiasm that made his heart swell in his chest. He had done this for you. He had gone above and beyond to make you feel cherished and special, and the fact that it had worked only served to encourage him further.

But then you leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek in the softest of kisses. And Bucky felt like he had been struck by lightning. His skin tingled where your lips had touched, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the heat of the candles or the fireplace crackling in the corner.

He looked down at you, his blue eyes darkening with a hunger that was harder to ignore. The way you gazed up at him, your eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, made something aching and raw stir deep within him. In that moment, he knew with absolute certainty that you were his. That he would do anything, absolutely anything, to keep you by his side.

Bucky knew he should probably say something, should probably try to be charming and witty, to keep the mood light and playful. But all he could think about was the way your lips felt against his skin, and the way your body had felt pressed up against his. He wanted to touch you, to explore every curve and dip and hollow of your body until he had committed it all to memory.

Instead, he raised your hand to his lips, pressing another kiss to your knuckles that lingered perhaps a little too long. He could smell the scent of your perfume, it made his head swim with desire. It was a scent that he knew he would forever associate with you, with happiness and contentment and a feeling of coming home.

"I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "Because you deserve to be treated like a queen. You deserve to be worshipped and adored and cherished in every way possible."

He let your hand go reluctantly, but only so that he could wrap his arm around your waist and pull you flush against him. He could feel the warmth of your flesh, the soft give of your tummy, the flare of your hips. It made him want to groan out loud, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and just breathe you in.

But he didn't. Instead, he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek. He traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your throat, the delicate arch of your eyebrow. He committed every detail to memory, knowing that he would need to draw on these memories in the dark, lonely nights when you were not by his side.

You glanced up at him with a playful smirk, eyes sparkling with mirth, you tilted your head to the side, "I must say, Sergeant Barnes, I'm really am amazed by all of this..." You hummed, gesturing around at the candlelit table and the romantic ambiance. "I didn't realize you had it in you to be such a hopeless romantic. So tell me, did you slave away all day in the kitchen to whip up this feast?" You teased, batting your long lashes at him flirtatiously.

Bucky chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that rumbled in his chest and made your toes curl in your pretty shoes. He shook his head, his brown hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look even more handsome if that was possible. At the same time, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers splaying across your skin and giving you a little squeeze, a gentle reminder of how strong he was.

"Nah, doll. I may be many things, but a gourmet chef ain't one of them," he said with a smirk and a wink. "I ordered from that fancy Italian place downtown. The one with the red and white checkered tablecloths and the old guy who keeps trying to sell you wine and take you on a date."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't you worry, babygirl. I made sure to get one of everything on the menu. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you, so I pulled out all the stops." With that, he took your hand and led you towards the dining table. He pulled out your chair for you like the gentleman he was, waiting for you to take your seat before pushing it back in and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the shell of your ear.

"I hope you're hungry, sweetheart. Because I plan on feeding you until you're stuffed. Then, if you're still hungry after that..." His voice dropped to a low, husky tone as he nipped lightly at your earlobe. "Well, I might have a few more ideas on how to satisfy your appetite."

He straightened up and walked around the table to take his own seat across from you. As he sat down, he grabbed the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and popped the cork, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet of the apartment. He poured the bubbly liquid into your glass, the golden color catching the flickering light of the candles, before filling his own glass.

He raised his glass in your direction, a slow, roguish smile spreading across his handsome face. "To us, babygirl. To the start of something amazing."

He clinked his glass against yours, the sound ringing out like a promise, a vow. His blue eyes never left yours as he brought the glass to his lips and took a long, slow sip. He swallowed, his throat working with the motion, before setting the glass back down on the table. Then, he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the soft strains of jazz music filling the air. 

A moment later, he returned with two plates piled high with food - pasta, pizza, calzones, garlic bread, the works. He set a plate down in front of you before taking his own seat, looking at you with a proud, almost smug smile. "There you go, doll. Eat up now. You're gonna need your energy for later." He winked, his voice a low, wicked promise as he reached for his fork and knife. "And don't worry, babygirl. I'll make sure you get dessert later...no matter what it takes."

He smirked, a dark glint in his blue eyes as he cut into the pasta, the fork and knife screeching against the fine china. Then, he brought the fork to his mouth and took a bite, his eyes never leaving yours as he chewed, savored, and swallowed. All the while, his gaze remained locked with yours, a silent conversation passing between you. A conversation of unspoken words and unspoken desires, of promises and expectations and a hunger that had nothing to do with the food in front of you.

You ate your food languidly, taking small, savoring bites. You closed your eyes, a soft moan escaping your lips as the rich, buttery flavors exploded on your tongue - the crispy garlic bread, the creamy risotto, the tangy red sauce. Each morsel was a taste of heaven, a sensual indulgence. You could feel the warmth of the champagne tingling in your chest, bubbling through your veins.

You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, relishing the crisp effervescence that danced on your tongue and slid down your throat with a satisfying smoothness. The alcohol buzzed lightly in your head, heightening your senses, making every touch and taste and sound feel amplified, “I’m surprised by all this. You’re so quiet and broody, I didn’t realize you were so suave, Sergeant Barnes,” You tease, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system.

Bucky threw back his head and laughed, a rich, heartfelt sound that filled the room and made your chest feel warm and fluttery. He shook his head, as he looked at you with a rueful smile. "Quiet and broody, huh?" he said, arching one dark eyebrow. "I guess I can see how you might think that, doll. I ain't exactly known for my silver tongue and charm."

He reached across the table to take your hand, his calloused fingers brushing against your soft skin and sending a shiver running up your arm. He brought your hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "But for you, sweetheart, I'm willing to learn. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel special. To make you feel cherished and worshipped and like the angel you are."

He turned your hand over in his, his thumb tracing the lines of your palm in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. His touch was firm and sure, the touch of a soldier who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. "I never realized that a romantic gesture could feel so good," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sounded like it was meant only for your ears. "But with you, it's different. Everything feels different. It's like I'm seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes."

He lifted your hand to his cheek, holding it against the stubble that darkened his jawline. He closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing you in, your scent and your warmth and the feeling of your skin against his. "And maybe it's too soon to say this, but fuck, doll...I think I'm falling in love with you. I think I'm falling in love with everything about you, from the way your mind works to the way your body moves to the way your fucking soul shines out of your eyes."

He opened his eyes to look at you, his gaze intense and burning with a fierceness that made your heart race and your toes curl. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you hadn't seen before, a raw and naked emotion that made you want to reach out and pull him close and never let him go. But instead, you just looked at him, your own eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness and gratitude. Your heart felt so full that you thought it might burst, so stuffed with affection and adoration and a feeling of belonging that you never wanted to let go. Bucky must have seen the way your eyes glistened with emotion, because he smiled softly and brushed his thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear before it could fall.

"Hey, sweetheart...no crying now," he said, his voice low and gentle and filled with care. "Tonight's supposed to be a happy occasion, yeah? So why don't you give me that pretty smile of yours, and let me take care of everything else?"

You gazed up at Bucky with tear-filled eyes, your pouty lips curled into a radiant, trembling smile. You licked your lips nervously, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of the champagne on your tongue. Your voice was a breathy, delighted whisper as you spoke, "Oh, Bucky...I thought it was just me. I never dreamed you felt the same way. But hearing you say it..." A single tear slipped down your soft, flushed cheek, glistening in the candlelight. "I'm falling for you too. Hard. So hard it scares me sometimes."

You reached up with a shaking hand to cup Bucky's stubbled cheek, your fingers trembling slightly as you traced his strong jawline. Your heart raced in your chest, pounding against your ribs like a drumbeat of desire and anticipation. "I'm not usually one for grand gestures or fancy words, but this...you...it's everything. It's more than everything. It's like you see me in a way no one else ever has, like you understand every part of me, inside and out."

Your voice hitched on a sob, but you pressed on, unable to hold back the words any longer. "I want to give myself to you, all of myself. Body, heart, and soul. I want to be yours, completely and totally. Forever and always."

You leaned in closer, until your lips were a mere breath away from Bucky's. "So please, kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it, like you want to devour me whole. Kiss me like you'll never stop, because I don't think I can bear to live without your lips on mine for even a moment longer."

With that, you closed your eyes and parted your lips, a silent plea and a promise all in one. You were offering yourself to him, completely and wholly. 

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as he gazed down at you, his heart swelling with a fierce, all-consuming love that threatened to overwhelm him. He had felt many things in his long life - hunger, pain, rage, sorrow, guilt...but this feeling, this overwhelming tenderness and devotion, was something entirely new and terrifying in its intensity.

He saw the way your eyes shone with unshed tears, the way your bottom lip trembled with emotion and anticipation. He heard the breathy whisper of your voice, the hitch in your throat as you poured out your heart to him. And he knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that you were offering him everything. Everything you had, everything you were, everything you could ever hope to be.

And god, he wanted it. He wanted to take it all, to grab it with both hands and hold it close and never, ever let it go. He wanted to possess you, to claim you, to make you his in every way possible. But most of all, he wanted to cherish you. To worship you and adore you and love you with every fiber of his being, for as long as he lived and drew breath.

So when you leaned in, your lips parting in a silent plea, Bucky didn't hesitate. He closed the scant distance between you, his mouth coming down on yours in a kiss that was hungry and desperate and full of a need that bordered on rabid. He kissed you like a drowning man seeking air, his lips moving over yours with a fierce, almost bruising intensity. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against the tender flesh before soothing it with his tongue. He licked into your mouth, his tongue delving deep to taste the sweet champagne and the salt of your tears, the unique flavor that was purely, uniquely you.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through the soft curls of your hair. He gripped the strands tight, holding you in place as he angled your head to deepen the kiss, to plunder your mouth with a single-minded purpose. He kissed you until you were breathless, until your lungs burned for air and your head spun with the force of it. He kissed you until he felt your knees buckle, until he had to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you upright, to pull you flush against him.

And even then, he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Because now that he had tasted paradise, now that he had held heaven in his arms...he knew he would never be able to let you go. He broke the kiss only when absolutely necessary, when the need for air became too great to ignore. As he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps that matched your own.

"Fuck, doll..." he rasped, his voice a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I never...I mean, I don't...I can't..."

He swallowed hard, his throat working with the effort of trying to find the right words. But there were no words, not for a feeling this big, this all-encompassing. So he just held you tighter, pulling you so close that you could feel the pounding of his heart against your own.

"I love you," he said finally, the words a vow and a promise and a statement of fact all rolled into one. "I fucking love you so much, babygirl. More than anything in this goddamn world."

He kissed you again then, softer this time, slower. A kiss full of tenderness and care and a quiet, steady devotion. A kiss that said 'I'm yours, forever and always, no matter what.'

You smile into the kiss, giggling breathlessly as you melt into Bucky's strong arms. After a moment, you feel him begin to sway, and realize he's leading you in a slow dance, moving in time to the soft jazz music playing on the record player. Pressing closer, you rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. You can feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, the firmness of his muscles, the cool metal ridge of his dog tags. It makes you feel so small and delicate, so protected and cherished.

As you dance, you let your fingers walk playfully up his chest, feeling the contours and dips. You tilt your head to look up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and adoration. "You're such a sap, aren't you Sergeant Barnes?" You tease softly, a pretty blush coloring your cheeks. "I never would've guessed you had these kinds of moves."

Bucky just smirks and spins you out, before pulling you back in close, fitting your soft curves against his hard planes. "I got many moves, doll. Haven't even scratched the surface yet."

You shudder at the promise in his voice, a thrill running through you. Your breasts press against him as you slip your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his dark hair. As you sway, you can't help but feel like you’re living in a dream. Or maybe, a fairytale. It's hard to believe that a man like Bucky, so strong, so fierce, once so scary...could love you. But the way he holds you, touches you, kisses you...tells you he means it.

"Take me to bed, Bucky," You breathe against his neck, nipping at his ear. "Please...I need you." Your voice is soft, almost pleading. But there's a strength in it too. A sureness, a knowing. You know what you want. And you want him.

Bucky felt a shudder run through him at your breathy plea, your words igniting a fire in his blood that he couldn't ignore. He had been holding himself back, determined to make this night perfect for you, to show you the depth of his feelings and his commitment to you. But now, with the feel of your soft curves pressed so deliciously against him, your fingers playing in his hair and your lips brushing against his ear...fuck. He was done waiting.

In one swift, smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he strode purposefully towards the bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, not wanting any interruptions, any distractions, as he laid you down gently on the plush comforter. He stood over you for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you - your hair spreading out around your head like a halo, your cheeks flushed and your lips kiss-swollen, your chest heaving with anticipation. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one to reveal the expanse of his tanned, muscular chest. His vibranium arm gleamed in the low light, a testament to his past, but his other hand was soft and sure as it pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His dog tags hung proudly from his neck, causing a small small smile to grace your lips. Bucky’s pants quickly join the pile of clothes on the floor, earning a blush from you. This is the most you’ve seen him undressed during your relationship and the sight goes straight to your cunt, gooey and slick and hot. He climbs onto the bed, covering your body with his own, the heat of his skin seeping into yours. He brushed your hair back from your face, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your jaw, the soft swell of your bottom lip.

"I want to take my time with you, babygirl," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to worship every inch of this gorgeous body of yours, to make you feel so, so good."

He dipped his head to press a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point and making you gasp. He paused for a moment, just looking at you in the candlelight, his eyes dark and hungry as they took in the sight of you beneath him in your dress. "Fuck, doll," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "You're so goddamn beautiful. I can't believe you're really here, that you're really mine."

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as he slowly peeled your dress off your body, revealing the luscious curves that lay beneath. As the fabric slipped away, he beheld a vision that made his heart stutter and his cock jump to attention. You lay before him, clad in a sinful scrap of maroon lace and satin that clung to every generous curve. The teddy cupped and lifted your ample breasts, the delicate lace barely containing their full, rounded shape. Rosy nipples peaked prominently through the thin fabric, begging to be tasted and teased. His gaze drifted down the sweetheart neckline to your nipped-in waist and the flare of your hips. The lingerie hugged the swell of your ass, the lace disappearing between the tempting globes.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed, his voice a guttural rasp. "babygirl, that...fuck. You're a goddamn knockout."

He ran a calloused hand reverently over the swell of your breast, feeling the way your nipple pebbled at his touch. Hooking a finger under the lace, he slowly, torturously dragged it down, watching your skin flush and your chest heave with anticipation. His other hand traced the dip and curve of your waist, the flare of your hip, before gripping the generous flesh of your ass. He squeezed, relishing the way it yielded to his touch, before suddenly flipping you onto your stomach.

“Wait, wait,” You whisper, feeling far more bold than usual. Perhaps it’s the champagne, perhaps it’s the way Bucky makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world. You want to return the feeling tenfold, so you lick your lips and sit up slowly in the center of the mattress, “I…I want to do something for you. Switch spots with me, here, sit on the edge of the bed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your sudden boldness, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He had never seen this side of you before, this tantalizing glimmer of mischief and desire. It made his blood run hot and his cock twitch with anticipation. But he was nothing if not accommodating, especially to his beloved girl. So he sat back on his heels, watching you with a hungry, appreciative gaze as you sat up and patted the space in front of you. He moved to comply, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, his naked chest on full display. The candlelight flickered over the hard planes and angles, casting shadows that danced across his skin. He looked like a god, all power and strength and raw, masculine beauty.

You settle between his powerful thighs, the heat of his skin seeping into yours as you kneel before him. Catching his gaze with your own, you press your cheek against the firm muscle of his thigh, feeling the strength that lies beneath. Your fingers dance along the metallic surface of his vibranium hand, tracing the cool, hard ridges and grooves.

You bring his metal fingers to your soft, spit-slick lips, brushing them back and forth until you reach his thumb. Maintaining eye contact,you part your lips and draw his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure. Your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the cool metal as you hold his captivated gaze.

Your other hand slowly, teasingly runs up his muscular calf, nails lightly scraping over his skin. You can feel the coarseness of his leg hair beneath your fingertips, the strength of his leg muscles flexing slightly in response to your touch. Higher and higher your hand roams, not stopping until you reach the thick, heavy length of his cock. You wrap your fingers around it, feeling it throb against your palm, already hard and ready, all because of you.

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as your soft, warm lips closed around his thumb, your tongue swirling and teasing the cool vibranium. He had felt many things in his life, but the sensation of your mouth on his metal hand was unlike anything he had experienced before - electric, intense, and fucking incredible. He watched, mesmerized, as you slowly pumped his thick, hard cock with your small, delicate hand. The contrast of your soft, flushed skin against his own weathered, tanned flesh was erotic as hell, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to grab you, pin you down under him, and rail you into oblivion.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and fisted his hand in the bed sheets beneath him, fighting the urge to take control. He wanted to let you lead this, wanted to see what you would do, wanted to feel your passion and your hunger. But fuck if it wasn't the hardest thing he had ever done, holding himself back when every instinct screamed at him to take, to possess, to fucking ruin you with pleasure. He swallowed hard and forced himself to ask, his voice a low, strangled growl, "Is that how you want to use your mouth, babygirl? Because if you keep that up, I’m worried I won’t last long.”

Bucky shuddered as your soft, slick lips peppered playful kisses along each of his metal fingers, the sensation electric even through the material. He clenched his organic fist, knuckles white, as your attention turned to his aching cock. There was no warning, no hesitation, just the immediate heat of your eager mouth engulfing him.

"Ohhhh fuck," he groaned, head falling back as your lips wrapped around his thick girth and your tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive underside. His hips jerked reflexively, fighting the urge to thrust into the welcome warmth. Bucky squirmed as he felt your free hand roaming boldly over his muscular thigh, your blunt nails scraping deliciously across his skin. He flexed involuntarily, groaning low in his throat. But then your fingers found his cloth-covered balls and he nearly punched through the mattress as a bolt of pure lust shot through him. The contrast of your softness and his aching, swollen flesh was dizzying and he fisted a hand in your hair to anchor himself.

"It's...oh god, babygirl, your mouth feels...fuck...so damn good," he panted, iron will battling the instinct to grab your hair and fuck your face until he spilled down your throat. "If you keep that up, can't...Christ...can't promise I'll last."

Bucky’s reaction spurs you on, so you whine, batting your lashes in silent communication. You scoot forward, impossibly closer and take even more of his rigid length into your mouth, drool leaking out around it and dripping down your chin.

Bucky let out a low, feral growl as he felt your lips stretch around his thick, throbbing cock. The wet heat of your mouth was incredible, your tongue like velvet as it teased and stroked along the sensitive flesh. He could feel every flick, every swirl, every dip and curve of the velvety muscle as it explored his shaft. His grip tightened in your hair, his metal hand flexing and tensing as he fought the urge to take control, to fuck your pretty face until tears streamed down your cheeks and you choked and sputtered around his thick cock. He could feel the desperation building in his balls, the ache of impending release coiling hot and tight in his belly. Fuck, he had never been this turned on in his life, never felt a hunger this primal, this consuming. But goddamn if he wasn't determined to make this good for you too. Determined to worship your heavenly  body, to make you scream and shake and come undone all over his cock.

He tugged gently on your hair, urging you off his shaft with a hiss of regret. "Babygirl, wait..." he growled, voice strained and ragged. "I...fuck, I need to taste you too. Need to make you feel good, sweetheart."

He pulled you up his body, his bionic arm wrapping around your waist to crush you against his muscular chest. His mouth found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep to claim your mouth, to fuck your face the way he ached to fuck your other holes. He kissed you until you were breathless and clinging to his broad shoulders, until your panties were soaked through and your cunt was clenching around nothing. Then he flipped you onto your back and settled his hard, muscular body between your softer, curvier one. He looked down at you with hot, hungry eyes that blazed with lust and adoration.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," he rasped, his weight pressing down on you, pinning you to the mattress. "Need to feel this sweet little cunt squeezing my cock, baby. You ready for me, sweetheart?"

You bit your plump bottom lip shyly, peering up at him through long, curling lashes as you slowly, teasingly spread your plush thighs apart. Exposing yourself to his ravenous gaze, you arched your back slightly to present your glistening sex. Your blushing cheeks and nose scrunched up adorably as you fluttered your lashes. “I'm ready, Bucky,” you breathed, your voice a needy whisper. The scent of your arousal mingled with the lingering aroma of vanilla and champagne perfuming the air between you.

Your perky breasts heaved with each anticipating breath, the rosy nipples hardened into tight little peaks. Nuzzling your chin against his chest, you gazed up at him with hooded, desire-drunk eyes, your breathless plea unmistakable. “Please, Bucky... I need you. I'm all yours... every inch of me is yours to take.'"

Bucky shuddered as your legs fell open, revealing the glistening perfection of your bare cunt. The scent of your arousal and sight of you finally bare for him made his mouth water and his cock throb. He could see how wet you were, how ready and eager for him. Your puffy lips were slick and swollen, just begging to be spread open around his thick, hard flesh. He wanted to bury his face in your sweet little pussy, to lap up every drop of your slick until you were writhing and screaming his name. But more than that, he needed to be inside you. Needed to feel your velvet heat clamping down around him, needed to hear you moan and gasp as he stretched you open and filled you up. He reached down to grip your thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft, pliant flesh as he pushed them further apart, opening you even more to him. He could feel you trembling beneath his touch, could sense your anticipation and your need.

"Fuck, babygirl," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart. So goddamn sexy spread out like this for me."

He notched the broad head of his cock against your entrance, feeling the slick, scorching heat of you kissing the tip of his cock. He rolled his hips, coating his tip in your juices, getting himself slick and ready.

"I'm gonna fuck this needy little cunt so good," he promised darkly. "Gonna make you scream and shake and come all over my big, thick cock. You want that, babygirl? Want me to split you open and fuck you raw?" He looked down at your cute, flushed face, at your big eyes clouded with lust and desire, and he knew he had never wanted anything more in his life. 

He drank in every inch of your exposed flesh, from your blushing cheeks and cute little nose to your heaving, perfect tits and the dusting of freckles across your cleavage. You looked like a goddamn wet dream come to life, a fucking goddess of lust and desire. And when you arched that back to present yourself to him, your pleading words tumbling from your kiss-swollen lips, he was done for. Completely, utterly done.

"Fuck, babygirl," he groaned, his voice rough and low and dripping with desire. "You're mine, all mine. Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

He reached down with his human hand to line himself up, the swollen head of his cock nudging against your slick, wet entrance. He teasingly rubbed himself from clit to hole, before slowly, inch by tortuous inch, he pushed forward. Your velvety walls stretched around him, hugging his thick shaft as he pressed deeper and deeper inside you. He had to grit his teeth and take it slow, fighting the urge to slam forward and bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But goddamn, the feeling of your tight, hot cunt enveloping him, squeezing him like a fucking vice, was indescribable. Incredible. Better than anything he had ever felt before.

“Shit, sweetheart," he grunted as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls nestling against your ass. "So fucking tight. Gonna ruin this sweet little pussy, babygirl. Gonna fuck you so hard, so deep, you'll be feeling me for days."

You gasp brokenly, eyes rolling back as Bucky sinks to the hilt inside you. Your hands shoot up to grasp his biceps, nails digging into the flesh of his organic arm. "Jesus," you wheeze out, overwhelmed by the sensation of being impaled on his cock, "I've never felt so full in my life." Your hips squirm and roll instinctively, trying to adjust to his sheer size as you pant softly against his neck.

Bucky groaned deeply as he felt your fingers digging into his biceps, your petite body squirming and rolling beneath him as you familiarized yourself with his massive size. He could feel every flutter, every clench, every desperate little movement of your velvet walls as they struggled to accommodate his thick, aching cock. "Take your time, babygirl," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Take all the time you need. Gonna make this so good for you, sweetheart."

He brushed a strand of hair back from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as he gazed down at you with a tender, almost reverent expression. He loved seeing you like this - dazed, drunk on lust, worshipping every inch of his cock with your tight, perfect pussy.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this, doll. Spread out beneath me, stuffed full of my dick. Knew you'd have a hot little cunt, but shit... never imagined it would feel this good." His thumb brushed across your trembling lower lip, his eyes darkening with hunger as he watched your breathless pants. He rolled his hips slowly, shallowly, letting you feel every thick inch of him as he ground against your sensitive walls. "Shit baby, your pussy is gripping me like a fucking fist. Gonna ruin this cute little cunt, doll. Gonna fucking wreck you."

Bucky raked his lips and tongue over your slender neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses and sharp little nips in their wake. He lavished attention on your delicate collarbone before dipping down to worship your heaving tits, his metal hand cupping the soft, plush mound reverently. He circled his thumb pads around your areolas, teasing the sensitive skin until they pebbled and strained against his touch. Then, with a low groan, he hauled one aching peak into his mouth, suckling greedily as his metal fingers plucked at the other. You whimpered and writhed beneath him, the rough drag of his teeth and tongue on your tender nipples sending jolts of electricity zinging straight to your dripping core. Your thighs clenched around his waist, sharp heels digging into the firm globes of his muscular ass.

Bucky could feel your velvet walls starting to relax, to soften and flutter around his throbbing shaft as you adjusted to his size. He rolled his hips, stroking along your inner walls, loving the slick glide of your juices coating his thick cock. Sliding a hand down to where you were connected, he ran a finger through your soaked folds, circling your swollen clit and feeling you tremble. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, voice a low, lust-rough rasp. "Gonna make this pussy feel so fucking good."

Bucky began to move, slowly at first, easing you into the thick, heavy thrusts of his hips. He watched your face as he fucked into you, memorizing every gasp, every whimper, every flash of pure pleasure that crossed your expressive features. His pace increased gradually, building to a steady, pounding rhythm. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the creaking of the bed and your breathless cries.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy feels incredible," he groaned, his eyes burning into yours. "So fucking tight, so fucking hot. Gonna - ungh - fuck, gonna fill this cunt up so good. Pump you full of my cum, sweetheart."

He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening you up, driving even deeper into your molten core. His metal hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into the plush flesh as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts rocking you against the headboard. You giggled breathlessly as Bucky’s dog tags bounced and swayed in front of your face with each powerful thrust of his hips. The metallic clink-clink sound mingled with the erotic symphony of your lovemaking, spurring him on.

He reached down to grab the swinging tags, his fingers brushing against your lips. His grin widened and in one swift motion, he grabbed the tags in his teeth. The sight of him- all rugged and dominant with his dog tags clutched between white teeth and his piercing blue eyes drunk on lust as he fucked into you - made you clench hard around his pistoning shaft.

"Bucky!" You gasped, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my god, yes!" Your nails scrabbled at his back as you clung to him. Bucky snarled around the dog tags clenched in his teeth, the sound reverberating through his chest. The sight of you arching beneath him, your back bowed, your tits bouncing with each fierce thrust, your nails raking down his back, drove him absolutely wild. He released the tags, letting them fall against his chest as he crashed his mouth against yours in a bruising, demanding kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, fucking your face with the same brutal rhythm he used to slam into your cunt.

"Fuck yeah, scream for me babygirl," he growled against your lips, his hips never faltering. "Wanna hear you, sweetheart. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to."

His metal hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the round cheek, pulling you harder against him. His other hand found your wrists, pinning them above your head as he loomed over you, a dark, dominant figure intent on claiming every inch of your body. He could feel your cunt starting to flutter around him, your juices dripping down his shaft, your walls squeezing him like a vice. He fucked you through it, his rhythm never stopping, never letting up, determined to make you come undone on his cock. His metal hand wrapped around your slender throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into him. At the same time, his human hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your neck to his greedy mouth.

Bucky wasted no time, his lips and teeth and tongue attacking the smooth expanse of your skin. He sucked dark marks into your flesh, surely he would leave a collar of love bites around your throat. His teeth sank into the soft spot where your neck met your shoulder, marking you, claiming you.

"Fuck, come for me babygirl," he growled against your skin, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force. "I can feel this cunt getting tight, sweetheart. Gonna fucking drench my cock, aren’t you? Fuck, I'm gonna pump you so full of my cum. Breed this sweet little pussy, babygirl."

His metal fingers flexed around your throat as his human hand gripped your hair tighter. He could feel your body tensing, your legs starting to shake, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. He knew you were close, could feel your release approaching like a freight train.

You whimper and squirm, trembling and arching wantonly into Bucky as pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave. Your eyes roll back, fluttering shut as ecstasy consumes you, your velvet walls clenching rhythmically around his throbbing shaft. You’re drowning in sensation, lost to the intense, pulsing bliss radiating from where you’re joined.

"That's it, fuck, yes! Take it, babygirl! Take my fucking load!" he groaned, slamming into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt. His cock jerked and pulsed as he came hard, painting your fluttering walls with thick ropes of his hot seed. He collapsed against you, hips still twitching, metal hand still wrapped loosely around your throat, as he filled you with spurt after spurt of his cum. He could feel it leaking out around his shaft, dripping down to soak into the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck sweetheart," he panted, nuzzling into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline. "That was - ungh - goddamn, babygirl. You okay?" He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes filled with concern and satisfaction, his expression softening as he took in your dazed, blissed-out face.

“Hah, I think you killed me," you breathed out in a giggle, your voice hoarse from moaning. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused as you gazed up at Bucky. You could barely think straight, your mind still hazy from the intense fucking you just received. You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the musky scent of his skin mixed with the sweet aroma of your arousal. Between your thighs, his seed was leaking out, dripping onto the damp sheets below. You could feel it, warm and sticky and plentiful, a testament to Bucky's virility and stamina thanks to the serum. You knew you’d be feeling this for days, your pussy sore but so wonderfully satisfied.

Bucky chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your body. He brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear gently. His calloused fingers trailed down your cheek, tracing the delicate line of your jaw, the curve of your lips. “Did I though, doll? Killed you with pleasure? I'd say I brought you to life instead," he murmured, a smug smirk on his handsome face. "Shit babygirl, you look so fucking beautiful right now. Sated, fucked out, dripping with my cum. I've never seen a more perfect sight."

He rolled his hips slowly, his semi-hard cock stirring the mess inside your sensitive pussy. A low groan escaped him at the sensation, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening to gaze at you with heated intensity. "Feel that, sweetheart? Feel all that cum sloshing around in this greedy little cunt? Fuck, I pumped you so full, babygirl. Knew this pussy would milk me dry the second I sank into it."

Bucky's hand slid down to your chest, cupping the soft swell of your breast. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, feeling it pebble at his touch. He leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all his desire and satisfaction into it. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Gonna keep this pussy full, baby. Gonna fuck you so full of my seed, you'll be dripping with it for days. Everyone will know this cunt belongs to me, sweetheart." His smile turned wicked, promising all sorts of indulgent, pleasurable debauchery in the near future.

You gazed up at Bucky with hazy, lovestruck eyes, your lips curled into a dreamy, satisfied smile. You tangled slender fingers in his dark hair, giving a gentle tug as you turned your face to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing in the addictive scent of your coupling mixed with his natural, rugged aroma.

"Mmm, Happy Valentine's day, Sergeant Barnes," you murmured softly, your voice a husky rasp from the enthusiastic screaming match you had indulged in mere moments prior. "I love...I love you." You punctuated the heartfelt confession with a tender, lingering kiss pressed to his chiseled jawline, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

Bucky went still for a long moment as your softly spoken words washed over him, the tender kiss you placed on his jaw sending a shiver down his spine. He knew he hadn't misheard you, could feel the sincerity radiating off you in waves. But still, he needed to be sure, needed to hear you say it again when he could see the truth shining clear in your eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he pulled back to look at you. His piercing blue eyes searched yours, seeing the love and affection swimming in their depths. Then he smiled, soft and sweet, breathtaking in its gentle sincerity. He cupped your face in his large hands, calloused thumbs brushing away the last of your tears. He leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours, so close he could feel your breath mingling with his own.

Then, in a low, gravelly murmur, he said, "You love me, sweetheart? You sure about that? Cause I love you too, babygirl. So fuckin' much it scares me sometimes. Thought I couldn't love anyone after...after everything. But you? You make me feel alive again. Make me believe in happy endings."

Bucky sealed his confession with a slow, deep kiss, pouring every ounce of love and tenderness he had into it. He kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him...because you were. When he finally pulled back, there was a new light in his eyes. A soft, warm glow that had nothing to do with lust or desire...and everything to do with love.

[kissboybyler]

it gets to me so much sometimes when i think that, in whichever fandom, the GA or just most people tend to ship two characters just because they are canon. Like mike and el, for instance, they are canon, they have kissing scenes and they dance at the ball and they…hug?! But what do they even talk about? What’s the music playing in the background? What’s the context of their interactions? Why, why do they love each other? Do they make each other better, do they find missing parts of themselves in the form of another person? Are there hints and tells and color-codes that just…exist to symbolise their love?

Why do we ship these characters? What’s is it about their love that is so strong? And don’t get me wrong, i also believe -like many other bylers/ fans of the show- that mike and el grew to love each other, to appreciate and kind of need each other. But not for the right reasons.

I mean, mike needs to be needed, to be able to help or even save another person, to feel loved and wanted. But he also needs to allow himself to be who he is, outside of “forced conformity” (“that’s what’s killing the kids” after all!)

El, on the other hand, needs to find who she is, but firstly she needs to have a safe place where she is allowed to kind of just exist and then blossom into her true self. And bumping into mike, who eventually grew to appreciate and embrace her, she felt safe for the first time. And alongside her, mike felt needed, like he could protect her and be there for her and make her happy.

But now el, who has established both meaningful familial relationships and friendships, needs to find out who she is. How can we expect her to grow when she’s in a relationship with the first person she met right after she broke out of the lab (her literal prison), who can’t even talk about any other part of her that he loves other than her powers?

And i’ve read many many other people write about this, about how in s4, when mike wasn’t with el he embraced his geeky, nerdy and weird self but when he finally reunited with el, he had to hide himself from her (as did she!). He just…couldn’t be himself around her.

But like, apart from the problems in their relationship, i really just don’t understand why people ship them. It’s just…mike cant be himself around el and el doesn’t have room to find herself when she’s with mike. It literally doesn’t make any mathematical sense.

And then they say we’re delusional for thinking, for proving, that there are astronomically higher chances for these two not to be endgame, for el to be single and for mike and will to get together. Because it makes sense…right? Like, el will be able to find herself outside of a relationship, she won’t be dictated by anyone but her own self, and mike and will… do i really have to elaborate? Like, in every single aspect of stranger things, from musical titles and colour-codes, parallels and loving, longing stares, hand touches, over-protectiveness, deep and meaningful understanding to posters and freaking funko-pops, interviews and good ol’ fashioned cinematography and storytelling… it all points to them, if you connect the dots.

And how, how is it possible that so many dots have been put into such perfect places, to make such a beautifully crafted imagery, just for all of this to be a coincidence? When, when has anything ever in stranger things been coincidental? Ever?

Edit: I’d just like to denote that, when i said “(mike) can’t even talk about any other part of her that he loves other than her powers” i didn’t mean that mike loves el JUST because she has powers, fuck no, BUT when the time was right for him to note all of the other aspects of her character that make her a remarkable person (ex. her selflessness, her compassion), he decided to focus on her powers. The very thing that she herself thought dictated her.

just wanted to make that super clear.

[babybearnation]

polyam!landoscar = red string connecting you to your soulmate(s); reader can see strings, but landoscar can't—they're already dating, but as far as they're concerned they've found their soulmate and that's that (even if they both feel something missing). reader is childhood friends with sighted!alex maybe and he realises that reader is landoscar's soulmate but doesn't want to say anything so he says something for them

(aka: non-sighted established landoscar; sighted reader who's too shy/scared to tell landoscar; sighted alex who meddles (possibly background logalex but :3))

im obsessed with everyone's rsv ideas, i wont lie - also we get some new rsv lore here regarding polyamory heheh

non sighted!established!landoscar x red sighted!gn!reader (ft. red sighted!childhood bff!alex albon)

lando and oscar felt a connection the moment they met each other

they knew it'd be risky to start dating if they weren't soulmates but they went through with it anyways because the bond they felt was so strong

worked out in their favour though because, after sharing their first kiss, lando and oscar can see their strings... kind of

you see, lando and oscar unknowingly had a third soulmate - you

due to the rarity of polyamorous soulmates, it wasn't common knowledge on what would happen if not everyone involved kissed each other

lando and oscar could see their strings but they were faint, almost pink, and they couldn't touch them like red sight would allow them to

also, oscar and lando were almost positive they had two strings each but they could hardly see their strings and therefore couldn't track where the potential extra one led to

enter you

you know who their missing soulmate is

its you

the twined strings that looped around your finger always lead you to them and they tugged insistently pretty much every single race weekend

you were best friends with none other than alex albon and therefore, you had spent ages around lando whilst growing up and travelling with alex to his competitions and stuff like that

you'd known from the instant you met lando that you were his soulmate, but the extra string pointed somewhere else and it bothered you to no end

plus it nearly always tugged when you were at race tracks - less persistently than with lando's string, sure, but it still tugged

when oscar became alpine's reserve in 2022 and started attending every race track on the f1 calendar, you felt it every race weekend - you couldn't ignore it

when you realised it was oscar, you felt relieved - two drivers made things easier to manage!

but when you finally decided to do something about it, it was too late

lando and oscar were already together and they seemed perfectly content

maybe... maybe the universe was playing a cruel joke on you?

alex, however, was tired of watching lando & oscar play oblivious and was tired of dealing with a tragically depressed you

he was gonna say something

if it wasn't for his own soulmates stepping in and telling him that maybe he should speak to you first, he would've marched right on over and told lando and oscar the truth to their faces that very second

you talk to alex about it (george & logan on standby to control their boyfriend if needed) but it just leads to a big argument that has you storming off to mclaren

even though you refused to tell lando & oscar the truth, you still couldn't stay away from them and the three of you quickly became fast friends

so you rush to them for comfort without thinking about it

you end up spilling the truth to lando & oscar as you vent about how stupid alex is and its only when lando covers your mouth with his hand and whispers the words "we're soulmates?" that you realise what you've done

you go to apologise when lando leans in and kisses you

he pulls back and stares down at his hands, giggling and clapping excitedly when he notices the actually red string now

oscar bites his lip before shyly kissing you as well, gaining his own red sight

as you shyly tell oscar and lando the truth about how long you've known and how you didn't want to ruin anything with your strings, alex, george & logan watch on, all happy you three have finally sorted your shit out

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[trollhunted]

Oh boy, now that I'm done with the rewatch it's time to air out some of the grievances I have with the writing choices made regarding the antagonists...

Starting off a little more positive – Merlin's portrayal worked fairly well overall as this arrogant manipulative old jerk of a wizard, who may have noble goals but achieves them via not so honorable methods in the name of the greater good.

It was a pretty good bait-and-switch with the way the show had built up this image of the mysterious and benevolent mage, but left enough hints to his true character via little details that quickly turn sour in hindsight once you've actually met him. He's not a villain, but they did make him a decent morally gray character in the few episodes he's around.

However, I think he should've been held more accountable for his actions and behavior, especially when his grand plan doesn't work out because he was too wrapped up in his own head to see the truth.

That leads me to Morgana, the big evil "mastermind" of the show. I have to say, I love how utterly unhinged they made her in the first half of season 3, though she loses some of that by the end of it. I don't really have many complaints about her as a villain, but rather like to nitpick aspects surrounding her character and some missed potential.

Design-wise I find her a little lackluster as someone called "the Eldritch Queen" and while it definitely was a fun idea to contrast Merlin's dark armor with all that gold, I believe they missed the mark a little. They should've gone a step further and contrasted the design even more by giving it a creepy and organic direction. Her "armor" could've been more insectoid and reminiscent of bones or dead wood.

Also, a small thing that always bothers me are the green accents on her, when that was being established as Merlin's color. It does connect them visually in a way, but mostly just feels out of place to me. Now, about that missed potential...

As a queen of shadows, I would've liked if they'd played up her insidious nature a little more. As Claire, instead of immediately trying (and badly failing) to kill the Trollhunter, they should've dragged out the possession a little. She could've used this position to destroy the team from within, test their limits, tear them apart to weaken their will, only to have it all backfire with how much they trust and care for each other. It would've paralleled Angor's approach, because considering his background, he must've picked up these methods from someone, no?

Another writing point that bothers me is her imprisonment. No matter how you look at it, sealing an ancient evil sorceress inside (or even near) the heartstone – a MAJOR source of pure energy – just sounds like an all around bad idea. Wouldn't it make sense for her to feed on that energy? And even if not that, shouldn't you be worried about her corrupting it??

I get that from an animation standpoint it's an extremely convenient way to have everything happening in one place, so you don't actually have to set up so many new assets, but man... it's just kind of stupid lol.

Honestly the way I would've rationalized this whole deal is: instead of having her sealed up in Arcadia Oaks, California of all places (why did they even end up there?) she could've been imprisoned within the previous Trollmarket in europe. Her and Gunmar have tried to bring about the Eternal Night before and almost succeeded, which led to the battle of Killahead, where both were sealed away.

Imagine Gunmar and his forces had taken the old Trollmarket and used its heartstone for that spell, draining it in the process. Although they were stopped and defeated, Trollmarket was destroyed and their rock of sustenance dead, which would prompt the trolls to leave and seek a new home across the globe.

Merlin could've trapped Morgana in the empty heartstone as a way to contain her powers, using the last of his magic. Maybe the reason he was so sure she would be weak and easy to vanquish after her imprisonment is because he had intended to slowly syphon her energy to empower himself and never considered that she would figure out how to reverse the spell to drain him instead.

And to add some flavor to this location, Morgana's presence could've twisted the old Trollmarket into something eery and barely recognizable, giving others reason to avoid this place. It could've served to show the heroes what may become of their beloved Trollmarket if Gunmar wins, given them more incentive to fight for what they have.

That's just an idea though.

Angor Rot was always a big pot of missed potential to me and his return in season 3 just ended up feeling, well, hollow lol. He was introduced as a great antagonist but in my honest opinion kinda fell off the moment they destroyed his soul and just turned him into an angry beast. Besides the overall bad taste it leaves behind, we really didn't need a Bular 2. And it's a little annoying they somewhat continued with that direction even when he was revived and supposedly got his soul back.

I like that they cared enough to dig a little into his conflicting emotions given his history & enslavement, but these moments should've been brought up in the climax of the first season. He should've regained his soul back then and suddenly be forced to reconcile with the atrocities committed in the name of his mistress. His revenge on Strickler should've conflicted with his newly regained conscience...

And, oh man, Strickler is a bit of an annoying case. It's kind of absurd to me that they would choose to give this man an easy "redemption" while tossing around Angor's corpse like that.

Angor Rot literally had his soul and autonomy taken from him and while these actions definitely twisted him throughout the ages, at the end of the day it was never his choice. Strickler was in a somewhat similar situation as a changeling made to serve Gunmar, but the major difference is that he did have a choice. Multiple even.

Even in his predicament, Angor chose to offer the Trollhunter a deal to free both of them of Strickler's control. Whether he actually would've honored that deal is hard to say, but I think even if he'd betrayed Jim's trust, it would've made for a good opportunity to speak of who he used to be and what he's become, and have his first real choice in centuries be to spare them.

Strickler on the other hand is far more vile and self-serving at his core. At first you could argue that it's mostly the (very real) threat of Bular breathing down his neck that pushes him to harm Jim despite his soft spot for the kid. But when both Bular and Gunmar are out of the picture, instead of using this freedom constructively, he doubles down on killing the Trollhunter while finding every opportunity to get under his skin.

This man literally chooses to continue beefing with a teenager and don't get me wrong, I love it. Comedy aside, it is genuinely a fun exploration of his character and what makes him work as a complex personal antagonist. But the fun quickly stops when they try to rush him into a lackluster "redemption arc" to get him on the main team.

I'm aware that tons of people love the stricklake pairing and "lady x monster man" is very much a del Toro staple, but I really don't think Strickler should've been "redeemed" given everything he did, there should've been FAR more serious repercussions. It would've made more sense to me to put him in a "reluctant, not entirely trustworthy, sort-of-ally" position than suddenly have him be one of the Good Guys because... romance?

Not to mention the quality of their writing and characterization took quite a dip to mend their relationship and make said last minute romance happen. The drama surrounding it was cheesed up to such a degree it felt like they were putting on a play and didn't tell anyone.

Nomura's turnaround makes perfect sense narratively speaking because she was a straight-forward, impersonal antagonist, who only began to sympathize with the enemy when they were forced into the same position and she had nothing left to lose. She probably gave Jim a few nightmares, but the Lakes don't have anywhere near the number of reasons to hate her as they should with Strickler.

Oh and on the topic of changelings, let's get to the Janus Order. In my honest opinion, I think the Order was an overall waste. What made the changelings fun to me was precisely how they jumped between playing human and the cruel brutality of their monstrous nature. They weren't really a blend of these two worlds, but rather just putting on an act.

That's what made examples like Strickler, Nomura, and NotEnrique emotionally toeing the line of what it means to be human so interesting. Because they aren't human, but have learned to love the world they live in. And it's also what would've made Jim's transformation so strange/special, because he actually would've embodied joining those worlds.

The Janus Order both visually and narratively throws a wrench into that for no reason. (And don't get me started on the whole "evil, politically powerful organization secretly controlling the world" deal..........)

The way I could actually see a point to that direction, is if it had been a relatively inconsequential side-plot where the Janus Order is more like a small-scale cult of humans or even low-grade sorcerers worshipping the Pale Lady. It could've been a one or two episode issue that would've mainly served to build up some lore & foreshadowing surrounding Morgana, before she would've made her big entrance in the third season.

Ah... and even Gunmar could've been handled much better in the later seasons. Bular isn't a perfect character, but he serves his purpose as the introductory villain fairly well and for a kids show like that, it's a sensible execution.

Gunmar's character started out very strong – as the presumed endboss, they combined Bular's intimidation factor and Strickler's conniving nature with him and added some class as a millennia old monster warlord. It works fantastically. While that image falls a little here and there, his portrayal in the Darklands still makes sense as someone who seemingly lost all hope and resigned himself to his eternal prison... and even then he displayed a malicious sort of patience by wanting to break Jim's spirit instead of simply killing him.

So for that to quickly turn into an impatient old man, who just barks out threats and orders and blindly follows whatever anyone tells him the moment he's on the surface... it, well, is pretty disappointing. It's understandable for Bular, the younger and less experienced son, to be rash and impatient, but a warlord? That's a position that requires a ton of patience and tactical prowess.

I really wish they would've kept the way he was presented in the first season and give us this big villain who's not only physically scary, but observational and dedicated enough to send Chompsky back with a message saying he'll kill all those Jim holds dear for killing his son and then listing literally everyone the kid knows.

Plus, his origin as some kind of actual monster born from a corrupted heartstone should've been explored! They could've gone into that endless hunger he apparently displays, that would've made him consume countless living creatures and even drain the magic energy out of crystals...

Instead we ended up with Bular 2 again, but even worse somehow, and it just made Gunmar about as threatening as a parked truck.

[icewindandboringhorror]

It always seems a bit unbalanced on The Great Food Truck Race when there will be multiple teams who are cooking a wide variety of complex dishes with 10 different components and a bunch of prep work, and then there's that one team who like... exclusively serves plain crepes with some premade nutella on them, or plain waffles with just some whipped cream and cut up strawberries lol...

[daydreamerdrew]

The Hulk! (1978) #19

[buttacake80]

To my Asian, European, African, and Canadian friends...do y'all wanna know how the United States found itself under a fascist, Hitler-loving dictator named Donald Trump?

In another post, I started my timeline in 1980. The year I was born. But, it was also a turning point in US politics.

First, let me share my credentials.

- Bachelors of Arts - History

- Juris Doctor - Public Interest Law (Critical Race Theory)

- Masters of Philosophy (research degree) - Sociology (Race, Ethnicity, Conflict)

Just recently, we buried President Jimmy Carter, who was the president, when I was born. Jimmy was from Georgia, like my grandmother, and he came from a Southern Baptist background. Southern Baptists are known for being very conservative Christians who did not support abortion.

Jimmy, despite that background, actually supported LGBTQ rights by lifting a federal ban. He supported Roe v. Wade which protected access to abortion. And, he established the federal Department of Education.

However, Jimmy had an antagonistic relationship with Congress, and that alienated several Democrats, including Ted Kennedy, who was the brother of John F. Kennedy, a president who was assassinated.

The Kennedy family has an established name brand due to JFK and Robert F Kennedy (another brother and JFK's attorney general who was also assassinated). Ted was the younger, drunken brother who caused the accidental death of a college friend.

In 1980, Ted challenged Jimmy for the presidency even though they were both Democrats. Jimmy has the incumbent shouldn't have faced a challenge from his own party, but he had just been that bad.

So, this internal strife weakened the Democratic Party entering the 1980 election. In that same year, Jimmy boycotted the 1980 Olympics in Russia due to Russia's invasion of Afghanistan. Furthermore, there was a recession.

The Republican Party nominee was a former Hollywood actor turned politician named Ronald Reagan. Ronald was the governor of California and was trailing Jimmy in the polls until a presidential debate in which Ronald used his acting skills to make Jimmy seem incompetent.

Ronald believed in "trickle down economics." He believed that if the wealthiest people were taxed less, then they would spend more, thus boosting the economy and allowing prosperity to "trickle down" to the working & Middle class.

He also believed in increased military spending as this was the height of the Cold War with Russia. My own parents voted for Reagan because my dad was in the military.

Instead of trickling down, the wealthy just grew wealthier. Republicans continued to lower taxes for these individuals and businesses, so the money never trickled down. Social services were underfunded & unemployment increased. Reagan's response was to blame Black "welfare mothers" for abusing the system.

Republicans latch onto this. They implement work requirements for government assistance and make it harder for folks to pull out of poverty. As a result, a wealth gap separated white folk from the rest. White folk felt their hard earned money was supporting lazy white & Black folk, so they continued to constrict welfare programs.

[Section added] During Reagan's term, an unknown illness is killing young, gay Black & Latino men. It's AIDs. Reagan deemed it a gay disease that only affects gay people, so no funding is allocated to study this disease. It's viewed as retribution for their homosexua lifestyle. However, overtime, they learn about HIV once non-gay men were infected. Children die from the disease because blood is not tested for it, so some are born from it through their mothers while others were given transfusions.

Under Reagan, the Fairness Doctrine ends. Under this doctrine, news agencies had to report both sides of an issue. Because of this, television stations can now present one side. Fox News opens as a conservative network.

Ronald is well-loved by white folk. He gets elected to two terms. By the end of his term, the economy has recovered, and white folk are prospering. Then, his VP, George H.W. Bush, is elected.

Under George I, the Cold War ends, but we have the Gulf War in Kuwait. He signs trade agreements that result in several American companies, namely the auto industry, to shutter their doors and build factories overseas. This is due to a change in tariffs!

Millions of Americans lose their jobs as factories close. Detroit, as the leading auto manufacturer city, is devastated. Back in the 90s, Detroit was the 4th largest US city after Chicago. These factory closures hit the Midwest, especially hard.

This makes Bush unpopular. He is challenged by a young, charismatic Democrat named Bill Clinton.

Bill was a southerner like Jimmy, but Bill was a very well-known ladies' man. Bill appeals to Black Americans, though, and that allows him to defeat George.

Bill continues expanding trade agreements. He's a fiscal conservative despite being a Democrat, and under Bill, military spending is reduced.

[Section added] The rise of AIDs leads to further hate directed at the LGBTQ. During the 90s, several queer people are murdered. One such kid was Matthew Shepard. A college kid in Wyoming, he is beaten by a gang of white men. His family was terrorized so much, that they couldn't bury him because of fears his grave would be desecrated.

[A white woman Bishop in DC invites Shepard's parents to bury him in their graveyard. That Bishop is Marian Edgar Budde, the same Bishop who gave Trump his inaugural sermon this past week. She pleaded for Trump to have mercy on the queer community because she was the Bishop who buried Shepard!]

Bill is a popular president. The economy is booming, but he's still a lady's man, and he gets in trouble with a college intern.

This scandal adversely impacts the last few years in office so much so that his VP, Al Gore, loses the presidency to George W. Bush.

George Bush won the Electoral College while Al Gore won the popular vote. There was such a tiny margin that there were numerous recounts because of faulty ballots (hanging chads). Eventually, the Supreme Court intervenes and tells them to stop the count and certify George as president.

George II is the son of George I.

George II is a popular Texan with swagger. He wants to build up the military once again.

Clinton left a surplus of money, so what did George II do? He implemented tax cuts for the wealthy. That damned "trickle down economics" again. The wealthy get wealthier, increasing the wealth gap between white folks and everybody else.

They cut taxes while cutting social services. One of his biggest "achievements" was a restructuring of our educational system called "No Child Left Behind."

NCLB emphasizes test scores. School administrations are penalized if they don't meet these standards. They lost funding, so electives such as home economics, art, Music, etc are trimmed to make room for these test standards. By this time, my dad has retired from the military and is a school principal, and I remember the stress of trying to meet these standards.

These standards emphasize STEM at the expense of liberal arts. This is happening just as the internet becomes available to all.

Amazon opens as an online used book store. Facebook is started as a college message board. There's a tech boom, so everyone is being pushed into tech fields. Liberal arts education was devalued.

During his term, 9-11 happens. We declare war on Afghanistan. Islamophobia spikes. Fox News helps drive this narrative. Christianity is now being pushed into schools, whereas schools were previously secular.

[Section added] In 2004, the assault rifle ban was lifted. Now we are seeing a dramatic spike in school shootings. The Far Right embraces the expansion of the 2nd Amendment.

Then, we go to war in Iraq.

We aren't quite sure why we're at war with Iraq. We overthrow Suddam Hussein (from the Gulf War). George declares victory, then terminates the Iraqi Army.

This triggers an insurrection. Massive casualties are coming out of Iraq. The war in Afghanistan is overshadowed.

George serves two terms, but his VP is so unpopular that he doesn't run for president. Instead, the Republican nominee is John McCain.

Two Democrats fight for the nomination. Hillary Clinton, the wife of Bill, and Barack Obama.

Barack was a young, biracial Senator from Illinois. I attended law school in Illinois, and one of my classmates had been his legislative aide. I met Barack twice while a student. The first time, he had come to campus to propose a college-savings account. After his press conference, I latched onto his arm and refused to let go until he heard me, and I explained that his proposal was unrealistic because it assumed that a single mother would have the resources to save for an education when it was more likely her money would go towards groceries & rent or other immediate needs. (Fast forward two-three years, and the dude is repeating my line during the State of the Union! I had changed his mind!)

Barack beats Hillary for the nomination. He defeats McCain and is sworn in as the 1st black (not Black) president.

Obama is popular and well-loved by most Americans. Under his tenure, gay marriage is legalized.

Fox News triples down on their hatred.

Their network booms. They push Islamophobia 24/7. Highlight the fact that Obama's father was Muslim and that his middle name was Hussein.

Older Americans are watching program after program of this negativity. A movement starts called the Tea Party movement, which positions itself as a fiscally conservative movement. A bankrupt slumlord with a reality TV show gains popularity with these folks.

I wrote my master's dissertation on the Tea Party movement. It's called "Jesus and the White Man."

Donald Trump

Donald latches onto the Islamaphobia. He calls Barack by his middle name and questions his birth certificate. Donald grows popular with older Americans.

At the end of Obama's term, the son of VP Biden dies. This devastated Biden. He had lost his infant daughter & first wife in a car accident. He decides not to run for president.

Obama supports Hillary.

It is now Hillary v. Trump.

Trump pushes misogyny and Islamaphobia. Hillary is Bill's wife and a woman. She is the most qualified presidential candidate to ever run (at that time).

During Obama's last year in office, Justice Antonin Scalia* dies. Obama has the privilege to nominate that next Justice, but Mitch McConnell stalls through the election.

But older white Americans were barely okay with a black president. They were not about to let a woman serve as President. At the same time, an organization called Cambridge Analytica began to fine-tune an ultra conservative agenda.

With the help of Russian intelligence, they use Facebook ads to try to persuade voters to support Trump. They succeeded with white folk, but they did not succeed with the Black vote.

Russians used African bot farms in order to try to persuade Black Americans to support Trump. We rejected him at 90%.

Donald wins the Electoral College but not the popular vote.

Donald is a corrupt and ineffectual president. He tried to bribe foreign leaders and shared US intelligence with Russia.

However, as a populist, he latches onto the Christian Right. He nominates 3 Supreme Court Justices who lie during their confirmation hearings. These Justices will ultimately vote to overturn Roe v. Wade.

The Christian Right love this. But then COVID hits and the incompetence of Donald leads to millions of deaths. These Christian folk refuse to get vaccinated or wear masks.

Donald is an unpopular president and ranks as the worst president of all time.

Biden challenges him and wins.

Donald refuses to accept that he lost, so he organized an attempted coup. January 6th.

He's impeached. Twice.

McConnell refuses to take the step to have him permanently barred from office.

Biden takes office when COVID is still rampant. The Christian Right continue to push their agenda, seeking to remove protections for the LGBTQI.

Right wing media generates a lot of money. Podcasters jump on the bandwagon. Red pill content spills into the mainstream.

Kids who were isolated during COVID are now at home watching Joe Rogan & Theo Von. They spend hours upon hours on TikTok.

But unbeknownst to these kids is the history of Russian interference.

Schools emphasize STEM. They don't emphasize liberal arts or social sciences such as history or literature. The literacy rate plummeted to an all-time low. The average white American's reading level is at the 4th grade. They aren't able to engage in critical thinking.

They don't know the history of the Spanish Influenza. They don't know the history of a trade war that triggered the Great Depression. They don't know that our government has imprisoned citizens in internment camps. They don't know Hitler's rise to power.

In fact, Fox News frequently features individuals who deny the Holocaust.

Russia move their troll farms from Facebook to TikTok, where the algorithm serves as an echo chamber. Uneducated, illiterate folks gobble up 30-second videos but can't be arsed to watch anything over 5 minutes so complex issues are stripped down to sound bites.

The algorithm pushed right-wing fascist talking points. They rehabbed Donald while shifting Gen Z to the far right. They do not know how to verify information for themselves, so they gobble up misinformation and disinformation.

If a TikTok creator has millions of followers with thousands of views and likes, these kids assume that that info is factual. They do not vet shit for themselves.

Russia pushed anti-American propaganda that posed as pro-American talking points. Pushed isolationism. Pushed anti-democratic rhetoric. In fact, one of their greatest accomplishments is convincing Gen Z and uneducated, white Millennials into thinking we aren't a democracy.

We are a fucking Democratic Republic. Our constitution begins with: "We the people".

So, because of TikTok, Trump won.

That's why Biden was pushing for it to be banned before the election. The algorithm was being corrupted. But folks couldn't part from their addiction.

Folks who had been anti-Trump just 5 years ago are suddenly Trump supporters. They were brainwashed.

So, how did we get here?

We got here because most Americans are fucking STUPID.

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[lanymme]

God I forgot how good Pokemon Sun and Moon were.

The like. background alolan sovereignty stuff and the frankly startlingly sensitive discussion of child abuse and the way they entertwine? Team Skull being kids failed by the system, and that social ill giving room for the Aether Foundation to sort of push its way in and establish a hold in Alola to "do good"? The fact that the stuff the Aether Foundation is doing is really good work from a certain perspective, but is also disruptive, controlling, and not in alignment with the Alolan way of doing things? Guzma being abused as a kid, and ending up pushed around and manipulated by Lusamine, an abuser herself, who knows how to push his buttons?

The whole subplot of looking for a champion, which probably would've been Kukui or Guzma if their own hero and rival story hadn't been shattered by the stuff that happened to them? Guy whose dad broke golf sticks over him develops a perfectionist obsessed with being strong enough that nobody can beat him again, and constantly proves to himself he's safe by throwing that strength around? The way their relationship starts to repair when those societal problems start to be addressed?

And then Gladion and Lillie. God. The way Gladion is the older child who figured out what was happening first and got out of there, went no contact, and had to do what he could to stay off the street. The way Lillie is just starting to figure out and unpack the things her mother taught her, and beginning to become braver and show more independence? How her fucking mother DRESSED HER UP AS THE NIHILEGO, and then her big moment is to put together her own trainer-like outfit, to start picking her own clothes?? The way Lusamine treats her pokemon with zero humanity but pretties up and preserves them horrifically for show, the way the Aether Foundation is engaging in torturous unethical experimentation, as metaphors for the way she abuses each of her children???

The ways in which Guzma, Gladion, and Lillie all bond with Pokemon that sort of symbolically resonate with the kinds of abuse they received and the way they learned to deal with it--Guzma picking bugs, traditionally the weakest type, and Wimpod who runs from everything--showing the kindness deep down in him, and the way he grew up to be strong. Gladion, whose pokemon was more overtly abused, and evolves through his care into Silvally who can take on any type the way Gladion is forced to learn how to adapt to being by himself, and then to being a member of the community? And Lillie with Nebby, who starts out weak and defenseless, helpless, imprisoned, and escapes despite that and gets by through relying on other people, until she learns to take care of herself--and her buddy evolves into the legendary that defends the Alola Region from alien threats like her mother????

fuck that game was good. it fit so well with the themes and aesthetics of pokemon. I really wish they'd make more like it.

[thankskenpenders]

The mystery of that random magenta-haired Sonic woman: solved?

For almost three years now, there's been a little mystery in the Sonic franchise: who the hell is this lady?

Well, it seems like fans have collectively pieced together the answer. And it's more interesting than I expected.

For those who don't keep up with Sonic lore minutia like I do, this is a screenshot from the very first episode of TailsTube, released on YouTube back in March 2022. When Sonic and Tails were explaining the basics of their Earth and the fact that humans and anthropomorphic animals coexist, Tails showed a slide of some human NPCs from Sonic Unleashed. But the slide also included this never-before-seen character design, drawn in a conspicuously different, more anime-influenced art style from the Pixar-esque Unleashed characters. So... where's she from?

At the time, it was assumed that she was probably from an upcoming project. She looks like she could be an explorer of some sort, so maybe she's just an NPC from Frontiers, I thought. And then she wasn't in Frontiers. Sonic Prime, maybe? Nope, no humans in Prime. Okay, well maybe the IDW comics are going to start incorporating humans, now that the "two worlds" thing has been undone and humans once again canonically exist on the same planet as Sonic and friends. Well, if she's gonna show up in the comics, it's been almost three years and we still haven't seen her. That'd be a hell of a lead time for comics, where production cycles are typically a matter of months, not years. Time continued to pass, and we still hadn't seen her. We just had Ian Flynn teasing us with a #KnowingSmile, assuring us that she existed for some reason, just one that he couldn't talk about yet.

Fast forward to late 2024, and she suddenly makes an appearance in the last place anyone would have expected: the third live action movie, via an electronic billboard in Shibuya.

At this point it almost felt like the lore team was trolling us. Is this just a scrapped character design that's become fodder for inside joke cameos or something? Surely all of this teasing couldn't have been for a throwaway character design on a billboard in the background of a movie.

But actually, this billboard gives us an important piece of information: her name! She's labeled here as "Professor Tori." This is important because it connects her to a previous release. In Shadow Generations, Gerald's journal is prefaced with a note from the person who recovered it, addressed to the GUN Commander. In the English version, it's simply signed "T," but in the Japanese version... it's signed "Tori"!

This gives us some actual info about Professor Tori. For one, she seems to work for GUN in their Archival and Requisitions Department. She's apparently also interested in learning about Gerald and Maria's lives, like their old friend Abe is.

Jump forward again to the New Year's episode of TailsTube, and this appears in the background.

Her full name is officially given as Professor Victoria, and she's a historian. So, that seems to confirm everything we've pieced together so far.

As far as things we can reasonably assume to be correct go, this is everything we know for certain about Victoria. She's a historian working for GUN. Cool! But that's not what really fascinates me about her. For that, we have to do a little more speculation based on conjecture.

See, Shadow Generations also establishes information about the Robotnik family tree. Gerald had two sons. One of them took after Gerald's love of technology and became an expert in the field of robotics, and would go on to be Eggman's father. The other son took after Gerald's love of archaeology. This man would go on to be Maria's father. But, as Maria mentions in Shadow Generations... she also happens to have a little sister we've never met before.

So now, the question is: is this Maria's sister, Victoria Robotnik?!

We can't be 100% certain right now, but honestly, until proven otherwise I'm assuming that Victoria is Maria's little sister, now all grown up and working for GUN. It all lines up too neatly. The conspicuous reveal that Maria has an unseen and unnamed little sister, in the same game that establishes her dad was a history guy and also that there's this new historian working for GUN who just so happens to be really interested in her life. And also their names both end in "-ria." Come on!! Putting her in the Robotnik family would also explain all these cryptic clues about her identity. If she was just some random GUN agent, why be so coy and make fans piece it together?

I guess the most odd part here would be, y'know, Victoria working for the organization that killed her sister and grandpa. But Sega's been pushing the idea that GUN is trying to do better for 20 years now, ever since they established that the GUN Commander was Maria's childhood friend on the ARK and had him make amends with Shadow. Hearing that Maria's sister had joined GUN to try and gain access to information about her family history and undo the elaborate coverup of the previous administration would make sense to me, personally. And lest we forget, this would also make Victoria Eggman's cousin, giving him a family member in GUN. And that's a pretty cool storytelling tool to have on hand!

So, that's where we're at now. We have no idea where Victoria will pop up next, whether it's a game or a comic or another TailsTube episode or something else entirely. But it seems like she's fairly important, even if this speculation about her being a Robotnik somehow ends up being wrong. (But I'm pretty damn sold on this theory, personally.) Either way, it's exciting to see the human cast get fleshed out in fun ways again. If we're gonna have humans in Sonic stories, I'd rather they have anime-style designs and interesting connections to the narrative, rather than just being generic humans for the sake of having humans. I'm looking forward to seeing whatever the lore team's been cooking up here.

[kiemiu]

voice notes your boyfriend matt leaves you | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship drabble wc 348 (library) + (request)

one. moms been asking about you a lot recently. i mean—seriously, every conversation we have she's always asking "how's your girlfriend doing? did she blah blah blah." and it's like, woah, ask me about my day first, yknow?

two. i think i've gotten too used to you sleeping in the same bed as me...it's weird without you here...empty. i hope you're getting better sleep than me.

three. don't be mad but...i—i took your teddy bear. i promise im gonna give it back when i leave boston, i swear! i just really miss you and i knew the perfume on my luggage wouldn't last....please, don't be mad.

four. i know i said i'd wait for you to send your order but i was in the drive-thru already and people were behind me. i—..i got nervous and drove off. (long silence) so— pizza tonight?

five. i'm glad you had a fun day shopping with the girls...do you think we could facetime when you get home? i wanna see everything you got.

six. (nicks voice) don't come in matt's room for like a good hour, he just blew ass and it smells so fu- (gagging noises) (matt in the background: it's not that bad, nick!)

seven. was playing dress to impress on stream earlier and couldn't stop thinking about you...if you're up to it we should play duos. but only if you're up for it, i know it's late.

eight. i'm never listening to your playlist on shuffle again, i was folding laundry listening to clairo and the next song queued up was some fucking death metal band. nearly gave me a heart-attack..

nine. hey, baby..you okay? i'm not trying to be like, clingy or whatever but we haven't talked all day and..i don't know it's just a little out of the ordinary. i'm sure you're fine but just—just let me know if you're okay, okay?

ten. don't you wanna grab your cool, hot, and sexy boyfriend a drink from downstairs? (whispers) please, say yes, please, say yes, please, say yes.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrispleasure @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius

[gf2bellamy]

drunk — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer is drunk and is spilling things about your relationship content warnings: established relationship, drunk spencer, the team mocking them a/n: i've never had a sip of alcohol so if i made any mistake i'm very sorry honestly i just went of what i've seen in tv shows, movies and books

The neon glow of the bar cast a warm haze over the room as you sat nestled in the corner booth, sipping your soda.

The ice clinked softly against the glass as you absentmindedly swirled the straw, half-listening to Garcia and Emily’s gossip.

Their conversation faded into the background, however, as your attention drifted elsewhere—specifically, to the two men across the room. 

Spencer Reid, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, was talking at a rapid pace, gesturing wildly with his hands as Derek Morgan grinned at him, clearly entertained. Your brows furrowed as Derek slid another drink into Spencer’s hands. 

You sighed, not bothering to hide your disapproval. 

“What’s up with you?” Emily asked, her head tilting slightly as she sipped from her drink. 

“That.” You nodded toward the scene unfolding across the room. 

Emily followed your gaze just in time to see Spencer take another eager gulp of whatever Derek had handed him. A second later, Derek’s mouth dropped open before he burst into laughter, clapping Spencer on the back like a proud older brother. 

“Yeah… Morgan’s having way too much fun with drunk Spencer,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at them. 

Spencer, completely unaware of your scrutiny, continued rambling, his hands moving faster than his words. Meanwhile, Derek's smile just grew bigger and bigger.

Garcia snorted. “Oh, come on, it’s adorable.” 

You weren’t sure if you’d call it adorable. More like mildly concerning. Because if history had taught you anything, drunk Spencer Reid was unpredictable—and God help anyone who had to deal with him when the alcohol finally hit its peak. 

And from the looks of it, the moment was about to happen or based on Derek's grin , has happened already.

“What is he doing?” you mumbled, eyes narrowing as you watched the two of them. You had a bad feeling about this. 

Garcia glanced at you with a smirk. “Sweetheart, we are at a bar. That’s what people do. You know… drink?” She gestured pointedly at your own glass. 

You scoffed, lifting your soda in mock acknowledgment. “Yeah, well, some of us have to drive,” you muttered before taking another sip. 

Before Garcia could quip back, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Derek had turned toward you, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Oh no. 

Your stomach dropped. “Oh god,” you muttered. 

Oblivious to what was happening around him, Spencer continued rambling, hands flailing dramatically.

You watched, unamused, as Derek made his way over to you, his smirk growing wider with every step.

Trailing beside him, Spencer was entirely oblivious. He barely paid attention to where he was walking, nearly stumbling into Derek at one point, but that didn’t stop him. 

When they finally reached your booth, Derek didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on you, his grin downright devious. 

“You don’t say?” he mused, clearly continuing whatever conversation Spencer had been having—though it was obvious his real focus was on you. 

Spencer finally seemed to register where he was, his hazy eyes flickering to you. He blinked, as if surprised to see you there. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice slightly softer than before. 

Before you could respond, he slid into the booth beside you—well, more like half on top of you. He scooted in so close that his thigh was practically draped over yours. 

You stared at him. “Hi.” 

He grinned, leaning in ever so slightly, the scent of alcohol and something distinctly Spencer clinging to him. His eyes, glassy but bright, studied your face with open admiration, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

His curls were a mess, strands falling over his face, making him look even more disheveled than usual. You reached up instinctively, tucking a stray lock behind his ear, but he barely seemed to notice. 

“Seems like you’re having fun,” you murmured, shifting your gaze to Derek, who was watching the interaction with barely contained amusement. 

Derek simply shrugged. “Guess so.” 

You turned back to Spencer, who was still staring at you—completely dazed, his hazel eyes glassy and unfocused, like you were the most fascinating thing in the room. 

With a chuckle, Derek turned his attention to Garcia and Emily, leaving you to deal with your very drunk boyfriend. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you brushed more of his hair out of his face. 

Spencer hummed in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he blinked them open again. “Mhm.” 

You let your fingers linger in his curls, absentmindedly threading through them, and Spencer melted under your touch. 

“What were you telling Derek back there?” you asked, keeping your voice gentle, watching as his eyelids drooped slightly. 

He mumbled something incoherent before finally managing, “M’don’t remember.” 

Before you could press further, he sighed contently and let his head drop onto your shoulder, his body going slack against yours. 

Your hand was still tangled in his hair and you felt his breath fan against your neck as he let out another sleepy hum. 

Now Garcia and Emily were both staring at you, matching grins on their faces. You frowned. 

“What?” you asked warily. 

Emily’s smile widened. “Oh, nothing. It’s just… Spencer had a lot to say about you.” 

On cue, Spencer lifted his head from your shoulder at the sound of his name, his movements slow and a little clumsy. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. 

His brows furrowed in concentration, as if trying to grasp onto a fleeting thought. “I remember now,” he said, dragging out the words, squeezing his eyes shut like that might help jog his memory. “I think.” 

You waited, not sure if you wanted to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I told them… about how much you like touching my hair,” he finally said, his voice a little too loud, like he was completely unaware of the fact that everyone was now hanging onto his every word. 

Your mouth fell open. “What?” 

You whipped your head toward Emily, Garcia, and Derek—who were all watching you with knowing smirks, looking way too amused for your liking. 

“Oh, and I told them about how you—” he paused, blinking a few times, “—always trace patterns on my back when you think I’m asleep.” 

Your face burned. 

Spencer, oblivious to your horror, continued, his voice dreamy and soft. “And how you always steal my cardigans, even though you claim they drown you and make you look ridiculous. But I know you secretly love wearing them.”

Derek let out a full laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, this is gold.” 

Garcia sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Spencer, why—” 

He leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered—though it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, given his current state—“And I told them that you—” 

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else. 

Spencer blinked at you, wide-eyed, and you felt his lips curl into a grin against your palm. 

“Okay, Spence, I need you to stop talking now,” you said firmly, your hand still covering his mouth. 

Spencer blinked at you, his hazel eyes glassy with amusement. Slowly , hesitantly , you removed your hand, watching him like he was a ticking time bomb. 

Then you turned to your friends. 

“Don’t,” you warned, narrowing your eyes as Derek parted his lips, no doubt ready to deliver some smart remark. 

Derek smirked. “But—” 

“Don’t say anything,” you groaned, already exhausted, cutting him off with a pointed look. 

Emily took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, her expression entirely unreadable as she observed the chaos unfolding in front of her. 

Penelope, however, was a different story. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, placing a hand over her heart as she looked between you and Spencer like you were her new favorite romance novel come to life. “This is adorable. I mean, we knew you were soft for our resident genius, but this?” She gestured at Spencer, who was still pressed against you, his head once again finding its way to your shoulder. “This is next-level domesticity.” 

You sighed, “I am never letting him drink around you guys again.” 

Spencer hummed sleepily against your shoulder. “M’not even that drunk.” 

Derek let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you so are.” 

Spencer attempted to lift his head in protest but gave up halfway and settled deeper into your side. “M’just happy,” he mumbled, and if your heart didn’t squeeze at that, you’d be lying. 

Emily set down her drink, eyes glinting with mischief. “So, what else does our drunk genius have to say about you?” 

You shot her a glare. “Emily.” 

Spencer, on the other hand, perked up slightly, as if the question had unlocked another memory. 

“Oh!” he said suddenly, lifting his head, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “I also told Derek about how you always fall asleep on my chest when we watch movies, even though you swear you never fall asleep during movies.” 

Derek actually clapped at that one. “Man, you are so whipped.” 

You buried your face in your hands as Garcia gasped dramatically, reaching for Emily’s arm like she might faint. “They’re so disgustingly cute! .” 

Spencer, now clearly on a roll, turned his dopey, love-struck gaze back to you. “And I told them—” 

You groaned. “Spencer!” 

He grinned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Love you,” he mumbled sleepily. 

You patted Spencer’s thigh three times—a silent I love you, too, acting as if you weren't melting completely on the inside. You weren’t about to give your friends any more teasing material. 

“We’re going home,” you announced, realizing how sleepy Spencer was getting. 

Derek groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on. We wanna hear more.” His grin was absolutely wicked. 

At that, Spencer lifted his head slightly, as if he was about to continue his drunken confessions. 

You shot him a look—a playful but very clear don’t even think about it kind of look. “Spence.” 

His lips parted like he was going to argue, but instead, he let out a soft hum and dropped his head back onto your shoulder, completely surrendering. 

Derek laughed. "Man, he's totally wrapped around your finger."

You ignored him, instead rubbing soothing circles into Spencer’s back. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was half-asleep, his weight pressing into you completely. 

“One word about this at work,” you warned, shifting your gaze between the three of them, “and I’m never talking to you guys again.” 

Emily smirked over the rim of her glass. “Oh, sure. No words at work. Can’t promise about the PowerPoint presentation Garcia is definitely going to make, though.” 

Garcia gasped, scandalized. “Emily, you know me so well.” 

You groaned. “I hate all of you.” Derek chuckled, waving you off. “Nah, you love us.” 

Spencer hummed sleepily. “Mhm. Love them.” 

You sighed, adjusting him slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you home, Dr. Love-Confessions.” 

“Okay, come on,” you sighed, scooting Spencer out of the booth. He stood—well, wobbled—barely managing to keep himself upright. 

You steadied him with a hand on his arm as he instinctively laced his fingers through yours, clearly unwilling to let go. His drunken state had made him extra clingy, but you weren’t exactly complaining. 

Turning back to your friends, you gave them a pointed look. “I’ll see you all at work,” you said, voice laced with warning. “Where we’re only going to have professional conversations. Got it?” 

Emily smirked, raising her glass in mock agreement. “Oh, sure. Definitely professional.” 

Garcia let out a dramatic sigh. “No gossip whatsoever,” she said, not even trying to sound convincing. 

Derek just grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.” 

Meanwhile, Spencer was barely paying attention to any of this. His eyes had glazed over, staring blankly into the distance as if lost in thought—or maybe just lost in general. 

You exhaled, already exhausted and thinking of calling in sick. 

“You,” you said, pointing a finger at Derek, “you get to pay for both our drinks.” 

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, realization dawning on him. “Whoa, hold up—” 

“Nope,” you cut him off immediately, shaking your head. “Not happening. You let him get like this, you pay for it.” 

Derek let out a laugh, looking at Spencer, who was still in his own little world. “Man, I didn’t force him to drink.” 

You shrugged. “Don’t care. Enjoy the bill.” You tugged Spencer’s hand, leading him toward the exit. 

“Bye,” he mumbled sleepily, barely loud enough to be heard. His steps were slow, and his body felt heavier against yours.

You pushed open the door with your free hand, the cool night air rushing past you. Spencer let out a quiet sigh at the change in temperature, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.

Without thinking, you started tracing slow, comforting circles with your thumb over his skin. 

Spencer hummed softly, leaning into you as you walked toward the car. “Feels nice,” he mumbled. 

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded lazily, his curls falling into his face again. “You always do that.” 

“I guess I do,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, your heart warm as he squeezed your hand tighter. 

Spencer didn’t seem to notice how tightly he was holding onto you as you arrived next to your car. But when you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, he made a small noise of protest, a soft whimper that almost made you stop in your tracks. 

“Spence,” you said gently, “I need to look for my keys.” 

His hand reluctantly loosened, but his gaze never left you. You opened your bag, rummaging through the contents, your eyes scanning for the keys. 

“You usually keep them in your front pocket,” Spencer mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You froze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, right.” 

Without missing a beat, you reached into your front pocket, feeling the familiar jingle of your keys. “Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, as you unlocked the car. 

You quickly moved to open the passenger door, holding it wide. “Okay, come on. Sit down.” 

Spencer gave you a sleepy, lazy look but you gently tugged him towards the car, your touch soft yet insistent. His steps were slow, and as he started to get into the car, you reached up to guide his head down so he wouldn’t hit it on the top of the doorframe. 

“Head down,” you instructed, your voice a little more authoritative than usual, though the affection in your tone made it clear you were only looking out for him. 

Spencer let out a soft, obedient hum as he finally slumped into the passenger seat. His body collapsed back into the seat like a ragdoll, eyes heavy. 

“Good,” you said, closing the door behind him, watching as he settled into the seat, already half-asleep. 

As you slid into the driver's seat and closed the door behind you, you glanced over at Spencer. His head was resting against the seat, eyes shut, his expression soft and peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for disturbing his rest. 

“Do you want to go to your apartment?” you asked quietly, glancing at him as you started the car. 

Spencer’s voice was barely above a whisper when he replied, “I wanna stay with you.” 

You paused, looking at him—his face relaxed, eyes still closed as if he were half in a dream. Your fingers itched to reach out, and you gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He hummed contentedly at the contact, leaning into your touch without even realizing it. 

You smiled softly, your heart melting at how utterly endearing he was. “Okay. We’ll go to my apartment, then.” 

You drove in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the soft hum of the engine and Spencer’s breathing. It wasn’t long before you arrived, and as you parked in your spot, you glanced over at him.

He hadn’t moved, still in the same sleepy position, his head leaning against the seat. 

“Spence,” you said gently, turning off the car. “We’re here.” 

All he did was hum in response, barely acknowledging you. 

You sighed softly, knowing this was going to take a little effort. Stepping out of the car, you closed your door quietly before making your way to the passenger side. 

When you opened the door, Spencer was practically asleep, his head resting against the seat, lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful, you almost felt bad for waking him. 

“Spence,” you muttered, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. He didn’t budge. 

You frowned, leaning in slightly—careful not to hit your head on the car frame—as you gave his shoulder a firmer shake. Still nothing. 

“Spencer,” you said a little louder, this time with a touch of amusement in your voice. 

Finally, he stirred, cracking one eye open lazily. 

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile, watching as he blinked sluggishly. 

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face with one hand. “We’re here?” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

Spencer groaned lightly, shifting in his seat as if even the thought of moving was too much effort. 

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll help you, but you have to stand up, Spence.” 

With a deep sigh, he finally nodded and let you pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and you immediately steadied him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Whoa there, genius,” you murmured, adjusting your grip. “Let’s not face-plant in the parking lot.” 

Spencer huffed out a sleepy chuckle, leaning into you more than he probably realized. “You’re warm,” he muttered. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded. “Yeah, well, let’s get you inside where it’s actually warm, okay?” 

“Okay,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as you guided him inside the building. He leaned into you slightly, his steps slow and heavy. 

As you waited in front of the elevator, the only sound was the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ding from the floors above. You tapped your foot lightly against the tile, watching the numbers slowly descend. 

Then, out of nowhere, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft but certain. 

“I like you a lot, you know that?” 

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden confession, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes made your heart melt. His gaze was a little unfocused, heavy with sleep and alcohol, but the emotion behind his words was crystal clear. 

“I know, Spence,” you said, smiling warmly as you reached up and brushed his curls away from his face again. It was something so simple, yet something you always found yourself doing.

He leaned into your touch instinctively, his body seeking out your warmth. 

The elevator doors finally slid open with a ding, and you gently tugged his hand to lead him inside. As soon as the doors shut, Spencer sighed and rested his head on your shoulder, his body completely relaxed against yours. 

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your jacket. 

You let out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around him for support. “Thanks, Spence. You smell like alcohol and bad decisions.” 

He chuckled sleepily, barely lifting his head. “Bad decisions? No, no. Liking you is the best decision.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you just stared at him, warmth spreading through your chest. Even drunk and barely coherent, Spencer Reid somehow managed to be the sweetest person alive. 

The elevator doors opened, and you shook your head fondly, guiding him toward your apartment. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the hallway.” 

Spencer let out a hum of agreement, still clinging onto your hand like he never wanted to let go. 

You let go of him just long enough to unlock the door, pushing it open before guiding him inside. As soon as you shut it behind you, Spencer immediately reached for you again, clinging onto you like he had no intention of letting go. 

You sighed fondly, helping him shrug off his jacket while he clumsily toed off his shoes.

“Okay, Spencer, just a couple more steps,” you encouraged, wrapping an arm around his waist as you led him toward your bedroom. 

When you reached the bed, he sat down heavily, sighing as his body sunk into the mattress. His eyes scanned the room, though they were hazy with sleep. “I like your room,” he mumbled, as if just realizing where he was. 

You smiled softly, watching as he flopped back against the pillows, his head sinking into the plush fabric. 

“Me too,” you murmured, standing by the edge of the bed as you watched him. 

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but then, with a small, sleepy smile, he peeked up at you again. 

“You know… I think my favorite thing about your room is that you live in it,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with sincerity. 

Your heart swelled at the unexpected sweetness of his words. 

You shook your head with a soft laugh, brushing his curls out of his face once more. “You’re such a sap when you’re drunk, Spence.” 

His smile grew just a little. “M’not drunk,” he mumbled, already halfway to sleep. “Just in love.” 

You felt warmth spread through your chest as you pulled the blanket over him, watching as he relaxed further into the bed. 

“Go to sleep, Spencer,” you whispered, but the smile on your lips never faded. 

[megumiluvv]

Strongest Sorcerer Virgin

Includes: established relationship, Satoru Gojo x fem!reader, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection!!), Gojo is cocky until he actually has to do it (lolll), kissing, pet names (baby, princess, babycakes), praise (always), creampie I suppose, mentions of satosugu?? (His first kiss), overstimulation (only two orgasms)

Word Count: 1,421

Masterlist

A/n: I have been thinking about virgin gojo for months. It's not funny. I’m so obsessed with him. The voices said “write Satoru Gojo as a virgin” and I will indeed listen.

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

You didn’t know when you started dating him, but Satoru Gojo is a virgin. Absolutely no experience, despite his claims.

Oh, according to him, he’s made every girl he’s dated cum at least ten times before putting it in. Little do you know, you’re his first girlfriend. And unfortunately for him, you’re about to find out he’s still a virgin.

He got off easy with convincing you he could kiss fine, having jokingly practiced with Suguru in the past. But he didn’t want to get that far with his best friend, that’s embarrassing!

You’re making out on his couch, the soft pillows sinking under your combined weight, sappy romance movie forgotten in the background. Your hands move to push his sunglasses off his face and he holds your cheeks. You laugh into the kiss when his hips press against yours and you feel just how hard he has become.

“Is tonight finally the night we fuck, Satoru?” You tease and kiss his nose.

“Wanna see what I’m all about, princess?” He chuckles, cocky til’ the end.

“Mhmm, show me that talented dick you claim to have, Satoru.”

His smirk falters. It’s barely noticeable, but you still notice.

“Satoru? Are you okay?”

“Pshhh, whatttt? Of course I am!” There’s that lying voice.

“Satoru…” You have that warning tone to tell the truth.

“What, babycakes? I’m fiiiine.”

“Gojo.” Now he’s done it. He gulps as you refer to him with his last name

“…Okay, okayyy, I miiight’ve lied…”

“About…?”

“I, uhhh, I’ve neverhadsex.” He mumbles super fast.

“What?”

“I’m a virgin! Okay?! I said it!” He pouts and looks away in embarrassment. You almost want to laugh.

“…say something?” He mumbles shyly.

You do laugh. The strongest sorcerer, the most talented man in the world, is a virgin?! That’s absurd! It’s insane! You can’t help but laugh.

“Heyyy, stop laughing!” He whines, face red from embarrassment.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just can't help it! It’s crazy that you were so confident! I never knew!” You giggle. “Don’t be embarrassed, Satoru, I can help you out!”

“That’s even more embarrassing…”

“Oh, come onnnn, it’s just me! I’d be honored to pop the strongest sorcerer’s cherry.” You giggle at your own words and he keeps pouting.

“You’re so mean. And don’t say it like that!”

“Please?”

“…Fine, but only because you caused this problem.”

You look at his bulging pants and grin. “Mkay!”

His porcelain skin is so warm. The two of you had moved to his room and he’s on his back, your plush thighs straddling his lap. You’re both nude and he’s staring up at your body as if it’s sculpted by those sculptors that worshiped the gods. Hands rubbing your thighs nervously as you kiss down his body, stopping at his happy trail.

“You ready?”

“…mhm.” He swallows hard as you kiss his tip.

His body jolts, nails lightly digging small crescent shapes into your thighs. You grin and kiss down his shaft, lightly licking his balls before taking him down your throat.

He gasps from the sudden warmth and bucks his hips. “Shit, that feels good, so much better than I imagined…”

His whimpers fill the air as you fondle his balls and bob your head. You swirl your tongue around his shaft and pull back when you feel his cock throb in your throat and lightly blow on the tip, the cool air making him jolt.

“Fuck, you’re really edging me, princess?” He whines and rubs your hips.

“Come on, can’t have you blow your load so soon.” You giggle.

“I’m not blowing my load…” he mumbles shyly.

“Mhm, sure. Now, since it’s your first time, do you want to do it all or do you want me to just ride?”

His face is beet red. “Wh- I- uh- I can do it myself!!”

You can’t help but giggle. You lay on your back and spread your legs, showcasing just how aroused you are. He rubs your thighs gently and looks into your eyes for approval. You nod and guide his hips.

“Move your hips and slip it in.”

It takes him a while to actually react, shy from your bluntness. He shifts over you, lining his hips up with your body and looking at you for reassurance.

“Like this…?”

“Yep, you can go slowly or quickly, but push in.”

Satoru swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He slowly presses himself into you, gasping at the warmth, better than your mouth. His hands grip the sheets on either side of your head, struggling to keep from busting right away.

“I-is this okay so far…?”

You smile. “Just like that, you’re no longer a virgin.”

He lets out a huff of air, laughing slightly at your words. He swallows again, unsure of what to do. You intertwine your fingers with his.

“Move, set your own pace. I’ll let you know if it’s not enough or too much.” You speak gently, encouraging him.

He swallows again and nods, slowly drawing his hips back and hissing at the way you squeeze him.

“So tight, you feel so good, baby… Does this feel good?”

You nod when he thrusts slowly back in, gradually building up in tempo and in turn moving deeper. He hits particularly deep into you and his tip kisses your g-spot.

“Right there! Do that again!” You gasp and hold his hands tighter.

He looks at you with wide blue eyes, pupils blown as he moves harder, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Th-that good? Does it feel good for you too?” He manages to say through gasps and grunts.

“Yes, Satoru, so so good…”

He clearly likes the praise, moving faster and now at a constant pace, hips barely stuttering from how close he really is. He has to see you cum first. He needs it, needs you to feel good because of him.

“Satoru, my clit, rub my clit.” You whine, guiding his hand to the sensitive nub.

“Do I just-”

“Just rub it!” You buck up into him as he keeps his pace and finally moves his hand too.

His calloused thumb rubs circles into your sensitive clit, and he catches how your folds seem to flutter around him. He bites his lip and watches your face contort into the cutest expression.

“C-close, ‘toru, please…”

“…T-tell me what to do…”

“Just keep up like that, please…”

He nods and fights back every urge to cum, not wanting to miss when you reach your orgasm. You finally cum with a cry of his name, gripping him impossibly tighter and he finally releases as well. Spurts of his seed fill into you as he keeps fucking it deeper.

“C-can’t stop, it’s too much, I can’t stop!” He borderline cries into your shoulder as he keeps overstimulating the both of you, refusing to slow down or stop.

His sloppy thrusts won’t relent on your poor weeping cunt, white forming at the base of his shaft. You dig your nails into his hands, holding impossibly tighter at the overwhelming sensation.

“Satoruuuu! Too much! G-gonna cum againnnn!!” You cry out and clench tighter around him.

He moans and gasps in your ear, too out of it to hear your cries, only focusing on how you’re sucking him in and won’t let go. Not that he plans to ever leave. You reach another orgasm and thrash against the sheets at how intense it was, and again, he soon follows, this time stilling his hips as he whines out your name and so many praises.

“Thank you, thank you, baby, feels sooo good, princess, I love you, I love you…”

He collapses onto you and buries into your neck. You slowly come down from the overstimulated high and play with his hair.

“Satoru, get off…”

“Nuh uh.”

“Come on, Satoru, we gotta shower.”

“Tomorrow, we can do it tomorrow. Can’t move, if I pull out, I’ll just make us cum again.”

You giggle a little and let him cuddle into you. “You’re such a big baby, ‘toru.”

After a moment of silence, you speak up again.

“Was your first time good?”

“So good, you have the best pussy in the world, babycakes.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname and kiss his forehead. “Thanks, idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Mhm, my idiot.”

You both fall asleep, not a care in the world. As the moonlight shines through his window, the only thing that matters is that he’s with you, and you’re with him. Satoru Gojo is no longer a virgin. All thanks to one gorgeous girl: you.

[reidmania]

post it note | s. reid

summary; when yours and spencer's schedules begin to clash making it hard to see each other - even while living together, a silent act of affection in the shape of a post it note helps make all better.

warnings; fem reader, reader has a job that needs her to wake up early, literally no angst really at all, this is pure fluff, the fluffest fluff ever, established relationships, this was gonna be a no dialogue fic, but there is dialogue and its the sweetest ever. spencer is clingy, spencer is SOO in love.

an; this is the fluffiest shit ive ever written, also i finally figured out how to make custom colours on this silly thing. 2k words yay.

It was a month since Spencer had asked you to move in with him when it all started. You wanted to be able to see each other more, since it was difficult to do so when he was being called out to cases constantly. While you would see each other when he got back, see each other whenever you could, between your work, and his, it made it difficult. You already had clothes at his house. The first time you had ever come over, he had given you a drawer in his dresser, dedicated to whatever you wanted to put into it.

That drawer grew to your necklaces and rings being left on his side table, a version of your perfume next to his cologne on top of his dresser, a toothbrush next to his in the white mug he used as a makeshift toothbrush holder, a pair of your shoes by the door, a few of your coats hanging up next to his by the entrance, your favourite snacks and drinks stocked in his pantry and fridge, you basically already lived there – because Spencer wanted you to be comfortable in the place of his house whenever you were there

So you moving in was a no brainer.

Unfortunately, it seemed the issue wasn’t such an easy fix. While you got comfortable in his home, and saw him somewhat more than before, new issues occurred. He didn’t get home most nights till you were already fast asleep, curled up on the side of the bed dedicated to you, he would shower and change as quietly as possible not to wake you, then he would slip into bed and pull you into his arms. You would shuffle and ease into his touch, he would fall asleep holding you, you would remain asleep in his arms.

Then, in the morning you would wake up before him to leave for work. You hated that, having to unwrap his arms from you and watch him shuffle uncomfortably before finding a replacement to your warmth in the thick covers. You would get ready quietly, before you would spend a moment sitting on the edge of the bed, making sure he was comfortable as you brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, admiring his peaceful features, placing a kiss on his forehead before you left for the day.

When you did see each other, properly, consciously. Everything was fine, it was great. It was mostly when Spencer got to finish work earlier, being able to be home for dinner when you made it. Sometimes he would call you and ask you to hold off making dinner till he got home, just so he could make it with you. You always would. Those evenings the two of you would spend in the kitchen making dinner with each other, he would wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back as he leant down to rest his chin on your forehead. You’d sway softly together to whatever music you had been playing quietly in the background while he mumbled gently whispers of love into your ear.

On the mornings you didn’t have to work as early, you’d sleep in, Spencer would wake up earlier those days to spend the morning with you before he had to leave for work. He would pull you closer so you were basically laying on his chest, he would pepper your face with kisses as you let out a string of sweet laugher that made his chest swell. It was the same routine, he would lean in for a kiss, you’d complain about morning breath and then kiss him anyways before you brushed your teeth together making sweet jokes. 

The sweet evenings and giddy mornings made those nights and mornings you didn’t get to properly spend time together a little easier to cope with.

The idea came to you one night while you were cleaning up before bed. Spencer had called you a few hours ago to let you know that he was going to be there a little later. He always lets you know. He didn’t want to leave you hanging, and he never did. You understood the demands of his job, you’d never blame him for that. You two were handling the difficulties the best you could. However as you cleaned the kitchen your mind drifted. 

Moments later you were digging through the drawers in his home office, pulling out a pile of dulled out pink post it notes (ones he had started using rather than yellow ones because you said you liked them.) You grabbed a pen from the collection he had laid out, neatly organised on the side of his desk, and wrote a soft ‘I love you’ on the top note, before pulling it away from the rest of the collection, placing the rest back in his draw and putting his pen back, exactly how it was, before you stood and paddered through the house.

You stuck it to the door where you knew he would see it. You didn’t have to worry about him missing it. Spencer spent time making sure the doors and windows were locked, not only because he knew the dangers of otherwise, but he had taken that small routine so much more seriously since you had moved in. You knew he would notice it. That's all you wanted. Sure, you could’ve just sent it as a text, but chances are Spencer would see it as soon as you sent it. That wasn’t what you wanted. The nights you weren’t up to see him when he got home, you weren’t able to mumble the soft reminder to him before you fell asleep, give him any sort of affection later in the night. It was a small thing, but you hoped he found it sweet.

The next morning you woke up tangled in Spencer’s arms. He was fast asleep, eyebrows furrowed in comfort, lips slightly parted as soft breaths left his lips. Your heart pulled as you untangled yourself from his arms and left the bed. You watched for a moment as his brows furrowed further, arms reaching out for your body in his sleep and your stomach flipped. That moment you looked away, knowing if you didn’t you would end up back in his arms and not at work. You moved around the room quietly, getting yourself ready trying your best not to wake him. 

“Come back” You heard his voice and your head spun to see he had shifted to sit up a little bit more, watching as you moved around the room. His eyes were lidded with sleep and he was clearly unimpressed by your absence. This was why you tried to be so quiet in the mornings. He had said numerous times you could wake him up before you left, but then the one time you did, it ended in you both calling in sick to work and staying in bed for way too many hours.

“Good morning” You replied as you pulled on your jacket before you walked over to him. Not giving into his request despite how much you wanted to. You hand reached out to brush strands of messy hair away from his forehead, then getting distracted and running your hand gently through the soft strands of hair. His hand caught your wrist softly, pulling your hand to interlace his fingers with yours before he pressed his lips against your knuckles softly, your chest warmed.

“Hi angel,” he mumbled back, looking up at you. His hand gently tugged on yours trying to silently plead you back into his arms. It took a lot of self control not to give in and bury yourself into the place next to him, forget about work and any responsibilities and lose to him.

But you had a moment, and if Spencer was awake, you would spend it with him.

“How was work?” You asked, a lot of the time the question came the day after. Not hearing about his day immediately didn’t make you any less interested in hearing about it. You allowed yourself to shuffle closer to him, your forearm resting gently against his chest as he continued to press his lips against your knuckles softly.

He huffed out a warm breath of air against the skin of your fingers, “Fine, I missed you” he said gently. You were sure every time he said something your heart doubled in size, because although you had heard the words from him maybe a million times, it didn’t change how sweet he sounded saying them. The rest of the time you had before needing to leave for work was a mix between getting ready, and trying to deny Spencer’s soft plea’s for you to stay just a few minutes more before he finally gave in to letting you leave for the day, not without a few soft kisses to your lips, and your loving complaint about morning breath.

When you left the bedroom, ready, you made your way to the kitchen to make coffee like every other morning. You and Spencer liked two different types of coffee beans, he always made sure to keep them both stocked. You got the travel cup ready before making your way over to the pantry to get out your coffee beans, your heart swelled almost painfully at the sight when you opened the door.

The post it note you had stuck to the door, was placed on your bag of coffee beans. You had almost forgotten about it, but with the silent acknowledgement that he had seen it, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. The fact he could have just smiled and binned it, but instead moved it to a place he knew you would see it, like you had for him. It was the silent act of love and affection that made the nights and mornings you didn’t get to spend time together so much easier.

When you got home, before you went to bed you moved the post it note to his desk in his home office, when you woke up to leave for work, he had moved it to your work bag. From that point on it became a silent game between the two of you. Neither of you vocally acknowledged it, you didn’t need to. Each night before you went to bed you would move it for him to find when he got home, each morning you would find it in a new place. It became something you looked forward to everyday, finding out where he had placed it.

It had been a year since it started, the same post it note was used every time, the same one that you had placed on the door the first time. You both kept up with it, there wasn’t a single day either of you skipped moving it around, even the days you had off, or the days Spencer finished early. Whoever woke up first would move it, and whoever went to bed last would move it again. 

You were wrapped in Spencer’s arms, one of the nights he was able to finish early. You were pretty sure he had already moved the post it note since he had pressed kisses against your forehead before telling you to stay in bed, before he left the room for a few minutes, then returned with a giddy smile.

He was half asleep when he murmured out your name, your head resting on his chest as his arms remained tightly wrapped around you. You had let out a soft hum in response, the tiredness affecting you just as much as him. He had leant down and nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head.

“When I propose, I'm gonna do it with a thousand post it notes” He spoke so gently, voice laced with sleep. Your breath hitched slightly even in the tired state, your mind fogged and your chest aches – in the best way at the mention of him proposing. The vocal mention of the game you two had been playing for the last year of your relationship, the fact the silent ache was so insanely important to him, just like it was to you.

“Yeah?” you whispered back. You felt him nod into your hair as his fingers came to slowly brush through the strands.

“Mhm, Then I wanna be buried with the original.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

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