#i wanted to pay more attention to the way some things are worded and lo and behold: something interesting

[m00ngbin]

So I know we all know that Toichiro doesn't actually care about Serizawa or any of the Super Five, and he makes that clear several times throughout the World Domination arc, but I wanted to look at the specific wording I noticed here:

Oh ok.

For most people, (me included), the first time they watch this scene, they expect Toichiro to say something like, "I think very highly of You." That's the normal thing to say, that's what you would assume he's going to say.

But he doesn't. He specifically chooses to say "your Potential" instead. He's making it very clear that he doesn't actually view Serizawa as a person on the same level as him. He doesn't value his humanity or his presence, he values his Power. Toichiro is Only interested in what Serizawa's powers can do for him and how to make them stronger, and it's obvious to everyone.

Everyone except Serizawa. Serizawa, who was so deep in denial that he had convinced himself that he was working for a company instead of a terrorist cult organization. Serizawa, who devoted every minute of his time to Toichiro from the moment he left his room, until the very end of the organization. Serizawa who truly and wholeheartedly believed that Toichiro did give a damn about him as a person and not just his powers.

Serizawa who, even though he heard Toichiro say that he could lose all of the Super 5 and not feel a thing, still believed that Toichiro would.

Before the panel below happens, Serizawa begs Toichiro to stop what he's doing and tries to insist that he's not betraying him. Obviously that doesn't matter to Toichiro, because Serizawa has expended his usefulness and is actively going against him.

That's part of the reason I think that Studio Bones should have added this scene into the anime, I think it would have made Toichiro outright telling Serizawa that he didn't really care about him more impactful. Not just for Serizawa's character, but for his intentions for all of the Super 5. It helps show just how little he cares for other people and how he only sees them as tools, a means to an end. (Even if that was already clear before, it just drives the point home).

Also also also I think that would have made the one line from, (I think), Hatori stand out more. After Toichiro attempts to blow Serizawa, Shigeo and Reigen up, Hatori says something to the effect of, "so the president finally cast Serizawa aside, huh?" Everyone knew it was coming, everyone knew what Toichiro was after, except for Serizawa.

Tldr: Toichiro wanted Serizawa to become stronger not just because he would be more useful to him, but because there would be more power for him to take if need be, and the spare batteries panel should've been added to the anime because it would've made everything more impactful imo

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[iveleftitwithyou]

casual | paul lahote x reader smut

NSFW | 18+ | minors DNI | word count: 2.38k

warnings: smut, dom!paul, slight angst, mention of fighting, i think that's it?

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i asked you guys if i should post this now or incorporate it into ruderal, and the result was overwhelmingly to post it now, so here it is with some plot adjustments! i've been OBSESSED with this song by chappell roan and knew i needed to make it into an imagine, although this song is probably about a woman lol. highly recommend listening to the song as you read this. this is my first time EVER writing smut so i hope its not too bad - as always, let me know what you think :)

ALSO this is in an alternate timeline where the guys are all like 21+ and so is y/n :)

------

Paul’s hand lingered on your thigh as he drove the winding road back to Forks, his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer leg. the radio hummed with a song you couldn’t manage to pay attention to, instead focusing your gaze on the motion of his finger on your bare thigh. while you assumed the gesture was meant to comfort you, it did a lot more than that. you hoped that the darkness would obscure Paul’s peripheral vision enough for him to not realize you were ogling his muscular arms and unusually large hands. his veins protruded in a way that drove you crazy for some reason, and as much as you were still upset with him, you couldn’t help the rush of hormones that flooded at the sight.

Embry had made some stupid joke about you at the bonfire at Emily's that night, a common occurrence when you hung out with the pack. he didn’t mean anything by it, you joked around with each other like that all the time, but Paul had been extra sensitive for the last few weeks as he spent more hours on patrol. Victoria’s looming presence and the mystery murders happening around Washington meant the reservation needed increased protection, and the men in the pack had to step up. Embry’s comment led to a fight where the pair both phased, snarling and snapping until they both came to their senses and things went back to normal. you hated when Paul shifted because of you, even if it was just indirectly your fault like it was tonight. 

you two were meant to be casual, despite Paul having imprinted on you, as you had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and weren’t ready to commit to someone again. you’d been seeing each other casually for months, hanging out, and getting to know each other better. as much as you were hesitant to let him into your life completely, you couldn’t deny your attraction to Paul. he’d been nothing but a gentleman thus far, bringing you flowers on dates, opening doors for you, and following your boundaries to a T, terrified to mess anything up with you. of course, his physical form was unlike anything you’d ever seen - you were lucky that he preferred to hang out without a shirt on. things had gotten hot and heavy between you two a few times but hadn’t gone farther than some very intense making out. though, the way Paul’s hand touched you now was enough for you to throw those boundaries out the window; you wanted him - no, needed him.

you focused your eyes back on the road in front of you, only being able to see as far as the truck’s dim headlights illuminated. breathe in, breathe out, you reminded yourself, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach. you were unsuccessful, and it didn’t help that Paul’s hand was inching closer and closer to your hips.

suddenly, his hand snaked further inward and his grip tightened, engulfing your inner thigh. your breath hitched, and you unsuccessfully tried to mask it as a cough. you saw Paul smirk out of the corner of your eye, but he didn’t look over at you. 

you once again reminded yourself to breathe as the ache between your legs became more apparent. his hand loosened its grip and continued its journey towards your core. half of you thought about stopping him purely as punishment for fighting with Embry, but the much louder other half wouldn’t dream of it right now.

you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as his hand finally reached your jean shorts, his fingers tracing the seam that ran between your legs. the slight pressure he applied drove you absolutely crazy as you wished for more friction.

the sound that escaped your lips seemed to do something to Paul as he let out a breathy groan of his own. “alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, turning the wheel toward the side of the road. he must have known exactly where you were because he easily pulled the truck behind a set of bushes that obscured most of it from the road. any passerbys, which were few and far between at this time of night anyway, wouldn’t notice the vehicle.

almost as soon as he slammed the gear shift into park, his lips were on yours. he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. you melted into his lips, reminding yourself for the third time that night that if you didn’t start breathing, you would pass out. he gripped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as you continued to make out. his other hand traveled down your arm, to your hip, and unbuckled the seatbelt you’d been wearing. in one swift, but slightly awkward motion, he disconnected your lips for a brief moment and grabbed each side of your hips, pulling you across the center console onto his lap. you were careful not to lean too far and hit the horn with your back as you settled onto him, silently thanking Paul for owning such a spacious truck. your knees settled on either side of his legs. 

as you sat down on his lap, you brushed his hardening length with the same seam of your shorts his hand was just on, eliciting a quiet moan from both of you. impatient, Paul once again gripped your scalp and slammed your lips together. you allowed your hands to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the outline of the muscles on his bare abdomen. this feeling, combined with the warmth radiating from his bare skin, drove you insane. 

“take- it- off-” you mumbled in between kisses, tugging the hem upwards. you were unsure of where the forwardness came from, but you didn’t stop long enough to be embarrassed. 

“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he snarked half-jokingly but obliged.

the moonlight streaming in from the windshield was just enough for you to be able to see the outline of his pecs and abs, and you really couldn’t help but stare.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, noticing your eyes widening at his physique.

you nodded, unable to form words, instead opting to smash your lips back together with all of the strength you could muster. you’d had enough of looking flustered - you wanted to take initiative.

you raised your hips again, pushing your abdomen against Paul's and lowering yourself onto his member. you rocked your hips back and forth as he moved his lips down your cheek, then your jaw, and eventually to your neck. the friction as you continued to grind against him elicited a low growl against your neck as his lips attached to your skin. you moaned embarrassingly loudly as he sucked at the delicate skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sheepish. in fact, the only emotion surging through your body right now was pure desire for the god-like man leaving a series of hickeys on your neck.

“Paul, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you whined. you knew you’d regret letting him do it in the morning but right now you wanted nothing more than for him to mark you as his. you wanted to be his.

“don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. you’re all mine,” he retorted, lifting his head up to look you in the eyes. his were almost completely black with lust. “say it.” he commanded, holding your jaw tightly in his hand. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours, Paul” you panted, your hips continuing to move back and forth on Paul’s lap as you stared into his dark eyes. despite your relationship still being undefined, truer words had never been spoken.

“good girl. now shut the fuck up and get back in the passenger seat.” his harsh words did nothing to discourage you from obeying as you scrambled to sit back where you were a few minutes prior. this was a side of Paul you had only seen when he was angry: dark, commanding, dominating. usually, you would have to try to calm him down when he got like this, but right now, you were very much enjoying him telling you what to do. you already missed the warmth of his body on yours as you climbed back over to the other seat, but you instinctually knew better than to voice your complaints right now.

Paul leaned across the console, reaching his hand between your knees and under the seat to move it back as far as it would go. once he was satisfied with that, he reached across your lap and pulled the reclining handle, his other hand helping to lower the seat back slowly so you weren’t sent flying backward.

“scooch back” he ordered again, and you moved your hips backward on the seat, supporting yourself with your elbows on the very edge of the seat near the headrest.

you were confused as he opened the driver-side door and hopped out of the truck. you watched as he opened the passenger-side door, it becoming clear now what his plan was. you pulled your knees towards your chest as he climbed back in, kneeling on the floor mat in front of you. god damn, this truck was spacious, and you were incredibly grateful for that right now.

his large hands fumbled to unbutton your shorts. he pulled the zipper down and you lifted your hips, followed by your legs, so he could slide them off. not wanting to wait another second, he pulled your underwear to the side and connected his thumb to your clit. you let out a loud gasp at the sensation and he chuckled proudly, knowing how good he was making you feel. Paul rubbed small, tight circles on the sensitive nub for a few seconds before you felt a finger dip into your wet folds. a guttural moan escaped your throat as you finally got the sensation you had been waiting for since his hand had rested on your thigh earlier in the night.

he added a second finger shortly after and continued to pump in and out of your heat, his thumb continuing its circular motions on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building inside of your core, and it was almost euphoric knowing it was Paul making you feel like this.

“Paul, i’m gonna-” you moaned, getting close to the edge. “what the fuck?” he’d removed his fingers altogether upon hearing this and you were not happy about it. 

“patience, princess.” he chuckled, making eye contact with you once again as he raised his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. you were still pissed at him for teasing you like that, but the sound he made as he licked your wetness off himself almost made it worth it. almost.

“let’s take these off, shall we? or should i rip them off?” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

“don’t you dare,” the one rational brain cell you had left replied, lifting your hips for him to slide them off like he did the shorts. you liked this pair. Paul held your hips back down as he spread your legs open, leaning his torso over the seat until you could feel his breath between your legs, amplified by the wetness that had come with the teasing.

“god, you look so fucking good” he took a second to admire the sight before him before he groaned lustfully and connected his tongue to your cunt. he made quick work of finding all the right spots to hit, causing your legs to tremble and your eyes to roll back in your head. at this rate, you wouldn’t last long, but you never wanted this moment to end.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned as he continued to circle the sensitive nub with his tongue. you had never felt this connected to someone before, not any of your exes. no one had ever made you feel as good as Paul was in this moment. as he continued the motions of his tongue, you realized Paul was perfect for you in every way, including this one. it was like pre-nut clarity.

you felt the pressure building up again, somehow even stronger than last time, unable to contain your moans. “fuck, Paul, i’m gonna cum” you groaned, arching your back against the seat as Paul continued to hold your hips down harshly against it. you figured there would be bruises there tomorrow, and the thought of him marking you up even more only exacerbated your growing orgasm.

“cum for me, princess” Paul mumbled against your clit, giving you permission to let go. it only took a couple more swipes for you to come completely unglued against his mouth.

Paul gradually slowed down his motions, guiding you through your orgasm as your hips attempted to buck against his face, craving the stimulation. eventually, your brain started to function again, and the first thing you thought was that that was definitely the best orgasm you’d ever had. you couldn’t tell Paul that, though - it would boost his ego way too much, and he already had a huge one to begin with. the second thought that went through your head was that you were ready for Paul to be your boyfriend. no man could eat you out that good and get away from you.

he admired his work as you panted in front of him, a smirk of pride on his face. he loved knowing he was the one who made you feel so good. he raised himself up on his knees to hover over you, one arm resting on the seat to support himself as the other snaked behind your back to pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his back, settling your face in the crook of his neck. your breaths were soon in time with each other, basking in the body heat radiating from the both of you.

you could have stayed like that forever, but after a few minutes, Paul pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. he seemed deep in thought before he smiled and opened his mouth to ask you a simple question: “is it casual now?”

------

part 2 here :)

[bluebeary-jay]

If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

[kyupidos]

04/02/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

<3 stood still, when we first metヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘eels are covardes—hence how the tweels are when it comes to romance.’

characters. octavinelle : floyd leech , jade leech ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, pre-relationship, romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. ‘the tweels could never be flustered’ this, ‘the tweels are slick when it comes to romance’ that.. i choose FREEDOMMMM!!

f. leech

— it’s a sure fact; eels are cowards, and with no exceptions, as is floyd. think him as intimidating, scary, a mereel who’s more than willing to terrorize a few people if it seems fun enough. but deep down, he’s very much a coward. at the very least, that much is true when it comes to who interests him most—you. he can’t recall exactly when you caught his heart, like a fisherman after some catfish for his dinner. but he knows for a fact, and remembers how all of a sudden you sent his heart a flutter. maybe, so long as you’re attentive enough, you’ll notice the way he tries ( and fails ) to hide his mushy smily face that makes it ever so obvious how much he truly finds himself infatuated with you, the way he at times twiddles his thumbs when you joke together like he wants to say something more, but his nerves leave him to back down.

— after all; despite their frightening features, especially floyd all things considered, eels are cowards. oh, but that’s alright, because even if he can’t seem to spit out even the words ‘you’re real nice lookin!’, at least there’s the true fact that, lo and behold, you’re capable. go ahead, be physically affectionate with him, tease him a bit so long as he’s in a good mood, just return the favor of romance. all of it, are things he absolutely lives for. especially when it comes to physical affection, even just a teasing hand hold is enough to get him flustered and looking away from you, albeit with a pout.

— really, he tries ( and still fails ) to tease you back, but when it comes to you, it really doesn’t seem to work, does it? “boo, shrimpy..you’re no funnn..” he’ll pout, and he pouts even more when you just giggle in response. what’ll be the ticking point though, for him to sum up his courage and confess to you? that’s where a gift comes in—some shiny jewelry, specifically speaking, a necklace. surprise him from behind and put it on, maybe let your touch linger around his neck. especially then, you can take the time to adore his ever so flustered face.

— he can barely keep in his sheepish delight, so mark his words, by after school hours he’s hunting you down over to ramshackle; albeit you get there first, so despite his nervousness telling him to run away, he knocks on your door, forcing himself to with his other hand. thus when you finally open the door, he proceeds to immediately envelop you in a hug, and pay attention to the way he kept the necklace on, as it clinked softly against your bodies at the quick movement. “eh, shrimpy..you like me right? that’s why you gave me this pretty stuff?” he’ll ask, head nuzzled into your neck like he’s scared to see if you reject the notion, so go ahead and pat his head and tell him outright, that you love him. so floyd summons bravery once more with his toothy grin, and gives you a peck on the cheeks in his glee.

j. leech

— when the jaws open wide ‘n then it gets all shy, that’s a moorayyy..and that’s also jade. indeed more reserved, though still as menacing as floyd, and yet so long as you push the right buttons, it’s rather easy to get him flustered. as equal a coward as his brother, but his usual smooth, calm-face helps him a bit, though he clasps a clenched fist to keep himself from trying to hold your hand in case you’d rather not and his eyes dart around when he tries to make eye contact with you. maybe he’d be good at hiding his feelings, if not for the way he hitches when you give him even the slightest of affection, like grabbing at the fabric of his sleeve to take him to eat lunch with you.

— he can go ahead and try to be suave, especially with his “do be gentle with me”, but well and goodness believe that he goes to bed kicking his feet and giggling like a high school girl whenever you act smoothly in reply. at the very least, your blatant honesty with your compliments and praise evens out with his cowardice that causes him to suck in a breath, leaving him without the ability to come up with a smooth comeback. give him some time to lessen his fluster, to keep up his reputation as the ‘humble, gentle’ mereel his first impressions leave him to be.

— and goodness, how he’s left with a flushed face whenever you give him princess treatment, run your fingers through his hair and offer to feed him food when he teasingly suggests it ( and his mind is like tv static..he didn’t expect it, but he really, really enjoyed it!! ). but to finally get the feeling across so he feels comfortable enough to know his love is requited .. you’re going to have to be direct here, and ask if he’d like to have dinner with you at ramshackle. at that point, no matter how impressive he may have been in hiding his shyness before, he’s just barely keeping himself together from stuttering when he agrees, his sharp teeth showing just barely then.

— for just one last time, feed him some food as you eat together, in comfortable silence before jade finally collects himself once he realizes you truly aren’t just teasing him, that you really did ask him out on a date, which he was brave enough to accept. maybe he lets a nervous chuckle before he takes hold of his utensils, still barely able to look you in the eye, unsure of how he managed to gather the bravery to do it even just then. “for you to treat me ever so kindly like this..” and just a slight quiver in his voice which he berates himself over, “by any chance..have you taken a liking to me?” and that, then, is when you can confess—ask to kiss him if you’d like, his stomach will do twirls sure; but he’ll say yes.

[maneskinwh0re]

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

[turtleblogatlast]

“Hey, Hueso.”

Hueso sighs.

Moving his gaze to his left, he sees Leo casually leaning up against the wall next to him. The turtle isn’t looking at him, instead he seems to be staring at nothing at all. Strange, but not necessarily unheard of from him.

“We’re closed, Pepino.” Hueso states, moving a little away to continue closing down his restaurant-

“Can any portal be portal-jacked?”

Hueso pauses.

It’s a simple enough question, one that Hueso’s fairly certain he’s given an equally simple - if not a bit harsh - answer to. Granted, it was more in regard to the likelihood of bad portals being jacked rather than any at all, so maybe now that Leo has admittedly become much more competent with his portals, he’s just worried it’ll happen again.

The invasion certainly made the boy more…cautious. Quieter, too.

“Well…” Hueso runs a bony hand down his face, “From what I know, the possibility always exists, Pepino. However, it is far, far more unlikely to be portal-jacked when the portal is made by a master, rather than some reckless amateur.”

Leo nods his head, almost vacantly. If Hueso wasn’t paying so much attention he may have missed the way Leo seemed to look a little sick. Despite himself, concern builds within him.

“So-“ Leo starts, his voice soft in a worrisome way before he clears it, “So…if the portal was just- really strong, it could still be jacked if made by a beginner?”

Hueso watches closely even as he nods in answer, “Sí. Your own portals are strong, no?”

Leo shakes his head, “No, like- imagine a portal way stronger than mine ever were. Something huge and stuff. More, uh. More locked up dimensions and time, less��just space.”

“Hm.” Hueso frowns, considering the strange question. “Well, in truth I have yet to come across many portals on that level, but there’s nothing to say that it’s not possible-“ The smallest furrow of Leo’s brow makes Hueso hurry to add, “-ah, but there’s also nothing that says it is possible.”

“So…it could happen? It’s not a definitive “no”?” Leo asks, the smallest of shakes present in his tone.

Hueso puts a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “No lo sé, Pepino. I haven’t come across such portals enough to give a good answer to you.”

Something in him hurts a bit when Leo visibly plasters on a grin. “Ah, man. Well- Gracias, Hueso, this was just a stupid thing to get all hung up on anyway.”

Hueso looks closer at this annoying, insufferable, horribly quiet and reserved boy. He sees the dark circles peaking, barely visible thanks to the mask. He sees the scars of healed injuries never to be forgotten displayed all across the boy’s body. He sees the look in Leo’s eyes, a depression and worry that is…hard to look at, in someone so young.

He sees all of this in Leo, and as much as he sometimes wishes to deny it, he cares enough about him to gently ask. “Are you okay, Pepino?”

“Oh- yeah, yeah, don’t worry, Hueso, I’m not about to whine to you again or anything.” Leo laughs, backing away out of Hueso’s reach. “It’s just a little question, just something that’s been bothering me, y’know? Wanted to ask an expert.”

“Pepino-“ Hueso starts, not quite sure what to say. The words “you can come to me whenever you need to” are true, and yet he can’t bring himself to say them before Leo already is swinging a katana.

In the light of his blue portal, Leo sends Hueso his signature, manufactured grin. “Thanks for listening, Hueso!”

And then he’s gone. Just like that. Standing tall and confident with not a shred of that worry and reservation and fear left behind. It was the look of a soldier heading off to a battle he knew was terrifying, but one he also knew he needed to keep a brave face for.

It would have been a commendable look, if not for the fact Leo was heading home.

Hueso stares at the residual sparks of the portal for just a moment longer before moving to continue closing. Next time, because there will always be a next time, Hueso will have a fresh pizza waiting.

And, hopefully, a bit of that insufferable turtle he knows so well comes back to grab a slice.

[powermakar]

Slut! (3+1) - LS2

Summary: 3 times you break down and Logan pulls you in and the 1 time he breaks down and you pull him in. Based off of the song "Slut!" by Taylor Swift

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Swearing, self-deprecation, and Qatar 2023

1- I crashed my car

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Logan, I, Logan…” you try again.

“Y/n what happened? Are you okay? Did you get into an accident? Where are you?” Logan quickly asks as panic builds up inside of him. 

A quick “yes” is all you are able to croak out. “I crashed my car, I don’t know what to do and I need you,” you say with tears rolling down your face. “The other guy is being an asshole and he just keeps yelling and swearing at me.” Wiping your runny nose on your sleeve you say, “I’m scared, please hurry up.”

“I’m on my way, just try to breathe with me, we don’t want you to hyperventilate,” he tries to joke. 

As you mentally go through the checklist of things you know what to look for and ask for when you get into an accident, you can’t seem to think straight. Embarrassment, the fear of failure and disappointment run through your veins. You can’t even imagine how angry people will be at you, and that thought alone just scares you. You walk to the back of your car to reassess the damage, luckily there is a miniscule dent on the back of the bumper. Nothing really worth fixing or paying any attention to. When you turn to the man’s car you cringe inwardly as more tears prick your eyes. You look back at the man and say, “I am very sorry sir, I really do not know what happened but I am willing to pay for any of the damage.” 

The man looks you up and down before telling you to shut up. At his abrupt comment, you turn away from him as more tears begin to run down your face. “Don’t you walk away from me you bitch!” the man yells. 

Unfortunately for the man, Logan heard his comment as he was getting out of his car. “Do not ever call her a bitch ever again, do you understand?” he says as he walks towards you. You see the man awkwardly turn away from the two of you.

Logan turns to you as you quietly call his name and engulfs you in a hug. “It’s okay, we will figure this out, don’t worry about it, angel,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.. All you could manage was a little hum. 

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

2- I’m tired 

Being a university student is exhausting. Add in a boyfriend, a social life, and a job, all of your days seem to blur together. As the weeks went on, assignments and projects stacked on top of each other in a never ending loop. Once you finished one project, you were assigned another one along with some long-term assignments you needed to constantly work on. This week in particular seemed extra hard. Two projects, one discussion, and five different assignments were all due in a span of three days and you haven’t even started on some of them. You knew it was going to be a long week of sleepless nights. You were fine with it though, this is what you wanted anyways. Right? 

“Hey angel, do you want to go out to the theater and go to dinner after?” Logan asks as he walks into the kitchen area. 

“I would love to, Lo, but I really have to work on all of these assignments. They are all due pretty soon and I don’t have much done,” you sigh.

“Oh come on Y/n, you’ve been working extremely hard and you deserve a break. Please, for me?” 

“I deserve a break after I finish these. It is important that I finish these. Please just let me finish.” 

“Ok, how about we just go out to dinner and skip the movie?” 

“Logan, don't you understand that I’m tired and I just want to be alone so I can finish these assignments. God, you are so annoying. Just stop bothering me, please.” you abruptly say. Logan, who was taken back by your rude outburst, just looks at you before walking into your shared room. 

You couldn’t focus on your work after Logan left, all you could think about was the look on his face after you yelled at him. You were running on a few hours of sleep and you knew that wasn’t an excuse, you felt awful. 

Walking to the bedroom you gently knock on the door, “Lo, can I come in?” 

“Go work on your assignments, I don’t want to talk” he says muffled. Ignoring his comment, you walk into the room anyway. 

“I’m really sorry Logan. You aren’t annoying, it was a bad thing for me to say. I’m just really tired and overwhelmed so I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.” The tiredness suddenly hits you like a train and emotions are running high. 

“I’m really sorry Lo. I did not mean it and I really feel awful. I’m so sorry” you say, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. 

“Come here Y/n. I know you didn’t mean it, I also know how serious you take your studies so I shouldn’t have really asked you to step away from it for some stupid movie,” Logan says while pulling you into his lap. 

Burying you head into his chest, you can feel more tears fall. “I’m sorry for getting your shirt all wet”. 

“It’s okay. How about we get some take-out and I will try to help you with some of your work?” 

“I would really love that Lo, thank you.”

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

3- I read the comments

You knew that you would have to deal with all of Logan’s fans and others when you first started dating him. You knew that, you understood that, but what you couldn’t understand was the fact that they will scrutinize every single little detail about you. You didn’t understand why they didn’t do it to the other girlfriends, not that you wanted them to experience it, it just felt like you were singled out. Maybe the others did get all of this hate but they just hid it or covered it up well. That is something you would never be able to do. The comments were on your mind 24/7, it was all you could think about nowadays. 

Looking into the bathroom mirror, all you saw was the few stretch marks on your thighs and how much more you weighed compared to everyone else. Now you did not blame Logan for posting the picture of you two on a beach over the summer break. You blamed yourself. Why did you have to look like that? Why did you have to weigh what you did? Why did Logan date you and not someone skinnier? 

It was like a never ending spiral. Soon you were taking off your shirt to look at the ‘lumps’ on your stomach. Gently grabbing the skin, you pulled on it, imagining how much less you would weigh if you were to cut it off. Your eyes made it up to your boobs where some of the upper flesh was spilling out of the cups of your bra. ‘Tiger stripes’ were what Logan called them, you called them stretch marks and were embarrassed of them. Logan said that they were one of his favorite things about you, they were probably your least favorite thing about yourself. 

You didn’t even register the bathroom door opening until you made eye contact with Logan in the mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks as his eyes make their way over your breasts. 

“Oh, I was just- uhm, just…” you say, clearing your throat. 

“Doing what exactly?” 

“Do you ever read the comments on your Instagram posts?” you ask abruptly. 

“No not really, why?”

“Well I read the comments. Are you not embarrassed about me? To be seen with me? To post a picture of you beside a person like me?” 

“What are you talking about Y/n? I would never be embarrassed about you. I love you, don’t you know that?”

“Logan you shouldn’t be with someone who looks like a whale when they go to the beach or with someone who has stretch marks all over their body.” These were just two of the comments that seemed to run like a broken record in your mind. 

“What the hell? You look perfect, angel. In fact you are perfect Y/n. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. Whoever put those silly ideas in your head should be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves for saying such things about a beautiful person. Now let me show you how much I love you.”

You can feel a faint blush rise to your cheeks as you turn off the bathroom light off, leaving your discarded shirt laying on the floor, and the bad idea in the air. 

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

+1- I crash and burn constantly

Another DNF in the books. Another podium for Oscar in the books. You felt torn between sickness and happiness. You felt awful for Logan as he wasn’t able to finish the race due to the bad conditions and felt sick to your stomach as his F1 career could be on the line, it was all he really dreamed about. But you felt happy for your long-time friend Oscar as he seems to be finding his spot within F1 with McLaren. 

You grab a water bottle on your way into Logan’s driver’s room. You don’t even knock. You just walk into the room and sit down on the couch. You look over to Logan and you don’t even dare to utter a word to him. You know he doesn’t want to talk about it so you don’t even bother with it. He looks up at you but quickly turns away and looks at his shoes resting in the corner of the room. 

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Did you go watch Oscar’s podium celebration?” 

“No” is all you say. 

“You should have. You should be out celebrating with him and Lily. Go and congratulate him, you shouldn’t be in here with me.” 

There was something just…off about him. “I doubt this would be the only opportunity to congratulate him.” 

“You’ll never get to congratulate me.” 

“You know that is not what I meant. I congratulate you after every race. There aren’t enough words to tell you how proud I am of you.” 

“You aren’t proud of me. You are proud of Oscar. You are just embarrassed of me. I’m lucky if I get to finish my race, let alone fight for a podium. I have been out-qualified by Alex every single damn time. I crash and burn everytime I get in that car and I’m fucking tired of it.” He lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair. “I’ll never be like Oscar, I’ll never be that ‘once in a generation talent’ and I don’t even have a chance at being the best rookie since Lewis. It’s too much pressure to even keep the car from hitting the wall,” he continues.

“I know I will never fully understand the pressure of being a F1 driver but I at least want to help. Help me understand what you are going through and we can work through this together. Please let me help you Logan, please,” you whisper. 

He walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, resting his head against your shoulder. You take a hold of his left hand and begin playing with his fingers. 

“I was fighting at the top with Oscar when all of a sudden I found myself being glad that I finished the race or even finishing P19 instead of P20 is a miracle. I just feel like I need to prove to everyone that I am capable of competing and having a seat in F1. I hate seeing how upset the mechanics get when I crash and the fact that they have to rebuild a whole damn car in a single night. And the memes and jokes, I hate seeing them. I know what a fucking kilometer is and I know that me and Oscar are now at total ends of the spectrum when it comes to results. It’s fucking hard to see everyone comparing me to him is those stupid videos.” Throughout his whole speech, you could hear multiple voice cracks. 

“Love, we all support you. Me, your family, your friends, the whole team, even Oscar supports you and only wants the best for you. Please believe that we are all so proud of you and what you have been able to accomplish.” You can feel a wet spot growing on your shoulder, when you look down you can see Logan trying to wipe his face. “It’s okay Lo, you will get the results that you want, you work so fucking hard and I know, with out a doubt, that you will achieve something great.” 

You kneel down infront of him and take his hands into your own. “Please trust me on that Logan, please.” 

“I trust you Y/n, 100%” 

And he breaks down, then I’m pullin’ him in. 

[opinated-user]

friendly reminder that LO has faked to have cancer "coincidentally" right after her sibling Courtney came out alleging that LO essentially molested her when they were kids

we know that LO faked it for the following reasons: -first she claimed that it was skin cancer on the first stage and the only treatment she ever had was chemotherapy. first stage skin cancer is going to be treated normally with a minor surgery. -when more people started questioning her about it, suddenly LO claimed she never said what cancer that it was. -despite being in chemotherapy, LO claims that the expenses were "minimal", which is hard to believe even living in Canada. people go into debt paying for their treatment while still living on the exact same province as LO. -a normal chemotherapy treatment would last at least 6 months. we're talking about half a year of someone's lives in which your body basically is being destroyed in order to hopefully kill the cancer. not only LO hasn't shown literally no symptom related to chemotherapy during the entire period in which she should have it, but she also never told anyone about it during this process. including her own wife and her immediate family. not a single one of her closest friends ever knew or suspected she was going through this experience. she only mentioned some mild symptoms after some of her critics (including this blog) pointed them out at all. -not really proof, but the way that LO decided to announce she ever went through any of this was through a comic page on pokemadhouse to announce she was in "complete remission" already. to give an idea of how truly evil this is, her wife would have received the news that her wife had been lying to her for six months right before being asked to draw for free a comic to announce it to everyone else. regardless if you even believe that LO is lying or not, i think it's pretty clear we should be able to agree that this is just vile behavior and a total show of disrespect towards her own spouse. -complete and total lack of any real evidence. never a mention of visit to the doctor (only some "asks" teasing about getting "funny results" and nothing else), never a word about the kind of meds that she was taking, never saying a word even about what kind of chemotherapy she went through. this is not to say that she or anyone should owe it to the world to reveal every details of their lives in order to be believed, but we're talking about a experienced liar that has lied about so many things so many times before despite the clear and obvious evidence that still exist so the skepticism, plus the absolute lack of any evidence at all, is completely warranted in this case. to this day LO still claims that Stockholm does not exist. there's both audio, video and text evidence that she was the author and she fully intended to include every disgusting thing on it, that she wanted them there. lie about a fanfic and lie about cancer are two completely different things, but not to a liar who is used to lie for attention. -once again, this narrative of "i had cancer the whole time, but i was also in therapy and now i'm better so i don't really have to talk about any details about it ever again" started out really only shortly after Courtney came out speaking out. when you talk about youtuber or other influencers lying about having cancer for any nefarious reason possible, do not forget to include LO.

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 18

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: just slight reminders of events from 17th chapter

Words: 3759

A/N: Hi! So, I did the poll, and at the time when I started writing the story, it was 50/50 jeju island and Hawaii. I decided to do Hawaii as it feels a bit more interesting for me, but Jeju island will be in the story too sometime! :)

If anyone would want to have some bigger part of the story (like fav musicians -other than K-pop, or favourite colour, favourite clothes brand, food spot...) Just DM me or write it in the comments. I'll include it if it goes well with the story :))

Thank you for voting. And reading, I value you a lot.

Lots of love

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Soon the engine roared to life, but still, the Alpha made sure to pay close attention to the road. It was still terribly slippery.

They wanted to get you home as quickly as possible, knowing that you needed to rest and just hang out for a while with them. They were lucky that most of them didn't have to go to work today.

Smiling at you reassuringly, Jimin turned on the radio, switching to an omega-centred station that mostly consisted of soft, lo-fi-like music that was recommended for the second gender to listen to, especially on longer car rides.

The pack definitely wanted to go out with you sometimes and plan a nice trip and vacation, and so most of the alphas that were driving had already purchased subscriptions for many omega apps and radio stations, ready for any occasion.

A lot of marketing was targeted at packs that had an omega, having the softened-up alphas pay for stuff in hopes their small baby wouldn't start crying during a long car ride, on a plane, or on a boat.

It was usual for them to be very cautious and not really notice the price of anything when it was targeted for omegas.

So the second you enter a store—pretty much any type, going from grocery stores to electronics all the way to many restaurants—a selection is labelled with a small 'O', marking it as perfectly safe and made specifically for the second gender.

A lot of people made messy money off the worried packs. If their omega was sick, the pack would naturally grow worried and overprotective, ready to buy anything to make them feel better.

The second a shop assistant catches on, if they feel like it, they can start making stuff up, claiming that things that will most likely not help definetly will. It could be easy to mislead the pack members if they aren't careful enough.

The car ride was quiet and quicker than usual; soon the car was already parked, with the garage doors automatically opening after Jungkook called a phone number.

Climbing out, the alphas were quick to help you, opening the doors for you and pulling you gently out. Keeping a hold of your palm, Jimin once again hugged you closely, still able to smell how off your scent was.

„There, there, princess. It's all well now, hm? Come on, let's go in, my baby.” The alpha mumbled, smiling softly at you and nuzzling your nose with his, making you smile a bit.

Jungkook called the number again, waiting for the garage doors to close while he locked up the car and pocketed the keys.

Looking back at you with his packmate, the youngest giggled gently, ruffling your hair. „Let's go bunbun. Hold Alpha's hand... There, what a good girl.” He smiled at you, holding your other hand.

Leading you to the garage entrance, the whole room was huge—much bigger than any one you ever saw in anyone's home. It was much colder in here, and so you huddled to yourself, letting yourself be ushered to the doors.

Opening the metal-like doors, Jungkook led you both through, ending in a white halfway, and the alpha led you through, leading you after himself. Soon your small group appeared at the long, halfway full studios and a few other rooms, like the gym.

And so, you were in the kitchen in no time, the eldest alpha sitting at the kitchen table, a few cups and pots before him. Shooting up at the smell of you all approaching, he rushed over right away, pulling you to himself.

„Oh my god, sweetheart, I was so scared that something happened... God... Come here, let me hold you for a minute, cub."

Jin mumbled to himself, folding your head to his neck and letting you smell his scent gland while he went over the top of your head with his chin, scenting you gently.

You felt his lips gently flutter over your hair, but as soon as they came, they were gone. His scent drenched you quickly; the roses bloomed softly on your nose.

The other two alphas walked off, dispersing around the room. Washing their hands, Jimin and Jungkook went around the kitchen, noticing that the alpha was cooking a few meals already.

„Are you making pastries, Hyung?" The youngest asked, looking at the sizzling fish-shaped pan.

There was already a bit of the sweetened red bean paste inside, and so the alpha closed the pan carefully, turning it over so the shape would be achieved.

Looking up from coddling you, Jin still left his fingers in your hair, running it through gently. He kept his eyes soft, watching you fondly.

„Mhm, it's Bungeoppang; do you like those babycub? I was hoping you would; I made them very sweet for you, my baby.” He said, running his knuckles over your cheeks.

Nodding quickly, you always enjoyed tayaki, the sweet treat your grandparents would sometimes buy you at the food courts back when you lived in Japan.

Your grandmother bought the special-shaped pan too, and she would make it for you and your siblings often too.

„I really like it; thank you, Oppa." You said, looking into the alpha's eyes. Your scent must have brightened up; you were quite excited for once.

„Good. I'll finish them up for you quickly, okay?” He said, ushering you and Jimin over to the TV, Taehyung suddenly appearing from upstairs.

He noticed you right away, rushing over and taking you in his arms. „Babycheeks...” He whispered, crushing your face against his neck, still mindful not to hurt you.

Holding you close to him, he bended over to your neck, taking on a strong whiff of your scent. Running his cheek over your neck, scenting you.

Pulling away for a second, the alpha looked into your eyes, his hands on either side of your face. He watched you with concern and worry, but when you only smiled softly to him, he sighed out, pulling you to himself once again.

„Aish... Taehyung-ah, stop hogging her up!” Jimin called out, already seated on the couch. Sighing out, you noticed just the smallest growl building up in the man's chest, but he complied nonetheless.

Letting you take a seat first, you had the older alpha to your left and Tae sitting down to your right. Patting your knee gently, Jimin handed you a soft brown jumper.

You recognised it right away, smiling to yourself. You whispered out a thank you, pulling it to yourself.

Relaxing on the couch, the alpha smiled at you, brushing his fingers through your hair and turning on the television.

„-undance of marine biodiversity. Under the surface, a kaleidoscope of colours unfolds as we dive into the vibrant coral reefs. These underwater ecosystems are a haven for countless species, each playing a vital role in maintaining the delicate balance of this underwater paradise.

One of the most iconic inhabitants of these waters is the majestic sea turtle. These ancient creatures, known as Honu in Hawaiian, gracefully glide through the ocean, their gentle presence a symbol of wisdom and longevity. We witness their serene beauty as they navigate through the coral gardens, a sight that leaves us in awe.”

Gasping softly at the adorable shots of the small turtles swimming through the waters, you fell in love with the view before you.

It looked so peaceful and bright there. The water looked crystal clear, so the bottom of the ocean was visible, and the sand dunes were easy to see. With a few of the corals in the distance, the big turtle and the small cub swam around the underwater cameraman.

„As we venture further, we encounter playful pods of dolphins, their acrobatic displays a testament to the joy and freedom of life in the ocean. These intelligent creatures captivate us with their synchronised movements and infectious energy, reminding us of the boundless wonders that lie beneath the surface.

Hawaii's warm waters also serve as a sanctuary for the magnificent humpback whales. Every year, these gentle giants embark on an epic migration, travelling thousands of miles to the Hawaiian Islands to give birth and nurture their young. Witnessing their awe-inspiring breaches and hearing their haunting songs is an experience that leaves an indelible mark on our souls.”

„Oh wow, the dolphins are awesome...” Taehying mumbled, watching the screen closely.

Laughing at his amazement, the older alpha looked over. „I mean, we saw them in real life too some time ago, do you not remember? On the ship?” He said this, watching the other alpha.

„I remember Hyung, but this is very different. Imagine diving with them and-”

„Yeah, well, I bet the second you are at the open ocean, you'll piss your pants.”

„Yah! Hyung-” 

You didn't pay much attention to them while watching the colourful shots of the mammals in the documentary.

„I would like to see...” You mumbled to yourself, your eyes glued to the content. You were amazed.

The two men immediately stopped bickering, and you had them look over immediately. Any unnecessary agitation was gone right away, and their eyes are now much softer.

„The dolphins?” the older man asked, rubbing your upper back gently. You never got to see such creatures in real life; you only got to swim in an ocean very rarely. Sure, you knew how to swim, well...kind of.

You weren't too confident, and your family hardly ever went to a swimming pool, so there wasn't much space for you to get better.

You were always a bit too scared to go on your own, not sure about what you would be doing there alone since you wouldn't be really able to swim a few laps just like that.

Plus, you were always a bit too worried about the changing rooms and the experience overall.

Lately, it has become a huge trend in many big public swimming pools and aquaparks to get rid of changing rooms for men and women and instead build a whole new one, placing both genders in the same ones.

Sure, you wouldn't have to go and change next to the lockers anymore; instead, you would enter a hallway full of double-sided small changing rooms, similar to the ones in clothing stores.

Once you lock those with a barrier, you just change into your swimsuit and come out on the other side, where you lock all your things and go to shower and swim. You just never felt too safe in those.

„Thousands of tropical fish, like the vibrant parrotfish and the elusive Moorish idol, dart among the coral formations, creating a spectacle of colours and patterns. These reefs are not only a visual feast but also vital habitats that support a myriad of marine life.

Behind the scenes, dedicated marine biologists and conservationists work tirelessly to protect and preserve Hawaii's ocean wonders...”

Nodding shyly, you didn't realise that they would immediately start paying so much attention to you, taking your silly, not too deeply thought-out idea much more seriously.

„You want to go diving, princess?” Jimin asked, looking at you with soft eyes. Seeing you nod gently, the alphas have already started to plot many ideas on how to fulfil your request.

„In the sea, baby? On which island would you like to go, sweetie?” Taehyung said, turning to you, his eyes set on you.

Humming to yourself, you didn't really expect them to take it too seriously, so you didn't think for too long. There weren't many times you actually thought about going on vacation to a completely different country.

There was never enough money to even talk seriously about such a topic, and so you never really paid too much attention to the expensive resort ads you would sometimes see online.

Pointing over to the screen before you, there were a few cinametic shots of the island coastline, the ocean waves washing over the sand.

Smiling to themselves, the alpha on your left ran his chin over your head gently, smiling to himself. Taehyung was already looking up luxurious resorts and was quick to open a few websites.

„Okay princess, alphas will figure everything out for you, my baby.” He said this, hugging you close. He watched over his younger packmate's shoulder, looking over the villas he had already started scanning through.

He knew Taehyung would choose a nice place to stay. They didn't care about any prices; why would they even have to?

They didn't have to care if it was 2.000.000 or 8.000.000 ₩ per night; as long as the place was comfortable and beautiful, and mostly if you liked it, then everything was okay.

„Bunny, come have some of the pastries!” The youngest called out from the kitchen, watching closely as you waddled to stand up, making your way over to him.

Smiling widely at you, he made sure the fish-shaped food was cooled down before he handed it to you, letting you take a big bite while he bit down on another one he took.

They were crunchy but soft on the outside, and they were so sweet, you were immediately smiling.

„Is it good peaches?” Jin asked, running his hands over your back. Nodding virtuously, you ate even more, happy with how it tasted.

„Slow down cub, don't eat so quickly... There you go.” He murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. Soft with his eyes, he smiled at you when you were slower.

Savouring the flavour, you quickly finished. Handing you another one, you bit into the pastry again, the men around you chuckling softly at your eagerness. They were glad you were eating well.

The door opening alarm went off, having all of the alphas turning to look at the entrance. Shuffling in, Hoseok smiled towards all of his packmates. Noticing you, he was quick to come closer, dropping the grocery bags on the floor before he rushed over.

Picking you up, he held you to his scentgland, running his arms up and down your sides softly, breathing in your scent. There wasn't much of a hint of sadness or anxiety, and so the man was reassured.

„My sunshine... I'm so glad you are okay; you gave us quite the scare there, bub. Oh- I bought you some sweets, here let me-”

„Did you buy the banana milk?”

„Hyung, the cake, you bought it for me, right?”

The two youngest asked, both of them going in-between, so the alpha had to put you down unwillingly. Taking you into his arms instead, Jimin was quick to hug you instead.

„Yah! Hobi-ah, your shoes are dirty; are you crazy? I just cleaned the floors too, aish...!” Jin shouted, not meaning it too much. Pulling him back to the entrance, the younger only laughed, trying to make the other alpha let go of the strong hold on his wrist.

Picking up the grocery bags, Jungkook carried them over, quick to sort through them, pulling out a few foods and beverages. Finding a whole carton of the banana milks, he smiled widely, carrying them over to the fridge.

With Jimin's hands wrapped around your waist from behind, you relaxed against his warm chest while he leaned against the counter. Nuzzling you, the alpha was careful to pay close attention to you, not holding back from much scenting anymore.

Just then, the entrance doors unlocked again, and the last men from the pack walked in, their carry-on bags thrown over their shoulders.

With Namjoon closing the doors after himself, the older man had already kicked off his shoes, hung his coat fast, and was already hurrying in your direction.

Noticing that no sobs could be heard, he felt himself calm down slightly, but not much could be done until he had you in his arms.

Seeing you in his younger packmate's arms, he felt his heart soften. Cooing quietly, Yoongi pulled you from Jimin's hands, carefully picking you up.

Helping you wrap your legs around his waist, he held you up, folding your head to his scent gland.

He felt his eyes gloss over; he grew so worried and stressed after the call ended, not knowing what exactly was happening.

He was anxious enough already, not having you in his sight as it was, but after he received the call, he grew overprotective like never before.

Breathing in the soft strawberry scent you held, he felt his shoulders sag, blinking away any tears before they might fall. Holding you close to himself, Yoongi embraced you strongly, feeling his chin shake a little.

Noticing the change in mood, the eldest looked over. Seeing his younger packmate get emotional after being so worried for your safety warmed his heart. He cared a lot for his pack.

Walking over, Jin ruffled the second oldest's hair, patting your soft, small hands that clutched around his neck in the meantime.

He didn't say much else, realising full well that Yoongi would never forgive him if he picked on his emotions. He would never, really.

Letting his lips brush against your temple, the alpha took a few shuddering breaths before he started to calm down. Patting your hair gently, he ran his chin and cheek over your head virtuously, making sure you were drenched in his heavy alpha scent.

„Don't scare me like that, my sweetest kitten. Alpha was very worried, my good girl.” He whispered in your ear, placing you down on your feet carefully.

Checking over your face, he brushed your hair away from your eyes, caressing your cheeks. Smiling warmly at you, he stepped away, realising that the packalpha also needed to have his moment of reassurance that everything was okay.

Stepping over, Namjoon too picked you up, but instead of cradling you and staying mostly in his spot, the alpha carried you over to the couch, and all of the other men quickly came to sit down too.

Holding you to his chest, he let you rest against his collarbone and breathe in the warm scent he always held, his warm hands just holding you close for a minute or two.

Resting his head back, the alpha felt himself calm down, any agitation and worry soon dissipating. Resting his eyes for a few seconds, he breathed out before he sat up well again, still holding you close.

„...what happened, sweetie? Tell alpha now, my baby." He mumbled, coaxing you gently to answer. With his fingers gently running over your temples and cheeks, he, too, occasionally scented you like all the other packmates.

Sitting all around you, they allowed you to speak, listening closely. With the hoodie once again between your arms, all the alphas paid close attention to whatever went so badly this morning.

„The poster I m-made yesterday... The laptop it was on bro-ke, and it just wouldn't open, so my cla-classmates...” You spoke softly, your fingers clutching on to Namjoon's.

Running his thumb gently over the top of your hand, the alpha listened in closely.

„It broke? Like completely? Where is it? Let me take a lot, my sweetheart." He answered, looking around as if to spot your backpack.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jungkook stood up from his spot on the sofa, realising that it was still probably in his car. He told them quickly and went back to the garage to regain it.

„...y-yea it just... It didn't work, and the teacher got very... angry." You whispered, regaining the older man's sharp words you received this morning.

Frowning, most of the alphas leaned in, now truly interested. If someone even dared to be harsh on you, the pack would be quick to get rid of any issues. No one would get away with being bad to their omega.

„Angry? Why? The laptop broke, so obviously you wouldn't be able to show him your work. That's not your fault, sweet princess; you know that, right?” The younger alpha said, his hand gently running over your calf.

Looking away, you sighed.

„Seonsaeng-nim t-thought I didn't do it and just used it... as an excuse. My classmates weren't happy either.” You mumbled, wiping away any of the growing tears.

Quick to shush you, the packalpha tried to think clearly and not dwell on any assumptions he was currently making himself. It was hard, though, especially after he felt your shoulders shake a bit against his chest.

Shushing you sweetly, he held you closer, cradling you against him.

„That's bullshit; you literally did it with me yesterday. Absolutely fucking not. What's your teacher's name, kitten?” Yoongi could feel herself getting angrier.

Already looking up your school website, he was quick to scroll to the contact information, finding the phone number for the man in question.

Just then Jungkook came back, and the backpack opened before you. Taking the grey laptop out of it's pocket, the youngest alpha opened it, the few men around him looking at themselves.

Not much happened; the logo shined brightly on the black screen, making the packmate frown a bit.

„Your classmates, did they say something sunny?" Hoseok asked, sitting next to Namjoon. Taking a hold of your hand, he rubbed it gently, smiling at you encouragingly.

You could sense the anger rolling off of him already; the waves were strong and noticeable. You also realised more than well that it wasn't against you, not one bit.

Not sure where to start, you just nodded a little, feeling yourself start to cry softly. You didn't want to disappoint your group like that; you didn't mean to. Chin-Hae and Sun-Hi just didn't seem to understand that too well.

Cooing at you loudly, the packalpha hugged you once again, swaying you from side to side softly.

„Aigoo, my pup, don't cry, baby... No, no, no, it's okay, sweetheart, everything will be okay, hm? Alpha's are here, my baby; you're okay." He whispered, mindful to keep his voice soft.

Patting your hair gently, he watched as Yoongi stood up, a phone already held to his ear. He could hear just the faintest voice on the other side, and soon the alpha returned the favour, though his was kept much harsher.

He wasn't going to be making any jokes about you. If people wouldn't be nice to you when they weren't around to protect you, he would most definitely take immediate action.

Walking off to his soundproof studio, the rest of your packmates huddled around you, occasionally patting you and rubbing your back softly, gently coaxing you to tell them what exactly happened.

And you did, eventually explaining in a few stuttered-out sentences. revealing some of your past encounters with your classmates and teacher, it only added up.

And so, when the alphas got the whole story, they were more than livid.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[soapisahimbo]

NSFW ABC - Rodolfo Parra Edition

Finally! I'll be honest with you, this man has been quite the challenge to write about, mostly because it's been difficult to pin his personality and whatnot. But! I'm hoping I got it at least somewhat right and that you'll enjoy this one!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

I'm going to try my best to make sure that it won't be as long until I get your requests out, because I don't like keeping you waiting!

warnings: senseless smut, detailed descriptions, hinted at female anatomy, Rodolfo is a fucking sweetheart

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He's a real sweetheart, placing kisses over every part of you that he can reach, running his hands over the parts that he can't. He mumbles sweet nothings into your skin, some in English, some in Spanish, and this is one of the few times he'll be this verbal about his affection to you. Not that he never is usually, but he's a bit more relaxed and daring with his choice in words when you lay down with him like this. "So beautiful, so soft... warm... I can never get enough of you, querida, I want more..."

Once he breaks out of his reverie, he checks if you're ok. He's not very rough in bed, but he is strong and he can get pretty intense in the heat of the moment and can leave a few marks behind if he loses himself enough in the parts of you that he pays extra close attention to. He's never hurt you before, but he wants you to enjoy being with him. He wants to know if there's anything particular that you did or didn't like, so he knows to do more or less of it in the future. He asks you if you want to get in the shower. If you're a bit weak in the legs, he's quick to help you out. He might feel bad about it, but if you reassure him and tell him that you don't mind, he'll be vastly more confident; maybe even a bit cheeky.

He may be gentle and reserved, but he's certainly not lacking in passion. Can't keep his hands and mouth off of you, kisses deeply and touches eagerly. Insists that he should be the one to clean you off just so he can touch you more, but he's even more happy to oblige if you do the same just to get touched by you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Listen, he knows what his body looks like - he sees it in the mirror every day. But he is not vain, even in the slightest. He's aware that people might find his body attractive, but he's not the type to get cocky. He keeps himself in good shape because he feels it's necessary, but he's not as interested in flaunting his "assets" as some of his teammates might be. They have teased him about this more times than he can count, calling him things like the "shy maiden" of Los Vaqueros, but there's usually at least one or two people that remind them that he can easily take all of them out if he so wanted and that's all it takes to shut their mouths for a good while.

With that said, he has his own personal appreciation for his chest and arms. Not necessarily because of the way they look, but because he likes the way you can rest your head on his chest, and the way he can wrap his arms tightly around you (not to mention the way you place your hands on his pecs when you ride him, or the way he can hold you in place when he takes you).

He actually has a special weakness for the same parts on you, for the same reasons too. He just takes great enjoyment in laying his head down on your chest, thinks it's the best place to rest and even jokingly claims that he doesn't regain nearly as much energy if he rests somewhere else. Melts a little bit every time you hug him from behind and wishes that you'd never let go.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

He's not the type to say this out loud, but seeing the strings of his cum on your skin? His heart is pounding in his ears just thinking about it. On your stomach or the small of your back, over your thighs - it's not like he covers you all over, but the sight of it taps into something feral that he barely even knew he had in him. It makes him feel hot and it makes him want to do far more salacious things to you, but he's not quite sure what that would entail or how to make them reality. He holds back, but he has a dirtier mind than he might let on, or is even aware of. Perhaps with a bit of guidance...

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Rodolfo has always been a highly respectful man. He maintains eye contact, keeps his hands to himself, stays at a respectable distance when he speaks to someone he's not intimate with, and he was determined to stick to this, no matter how weak in the knees he was for you. He was sure you weren't doing it on purpose, but those clothes you wore that night certainly... accentuated some parts of you that he hadn't paid much attention to earlier (or at least tried not to). You two were good friends, so giving him hugs, leaning onto him, just standing close to him in general was not strange to either of you, but even if he always had been a bit infatuated with you, he never made any moves that could be considered inappropriate. But with the way you looked and the alcohol in his blood, hugging you felt different when he was suddenly so aware of your body. And he could tell that the other men were too. He's not typically jealous, but he felt a certain heat in his chest when he saw them try to approach you, licking their lips and undressing you with their eyes. But the night was not in their favour - you preferred his company over theirs and when you had had one too many drinks, he offered you to crash at his place. He didn't have any single ulterior motive with this, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

Once at his place, he said that he'd ready the guest room for you, but you asked him very sweetly if you could maybe sleep with him in his bed tonight. Not knowing how to turn you down, he dumbfoundedly agreed and took you to his room. Once you were tucked in next to him, wearing a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt that he let you borrow, he tried to relax and fall asleep, but he was alarmingly aware of your body pressing up against him. He couldn't help himself. He blamed it on the alcohol clouding his judgment, but he couldn't go to sleep like this. Once he was sure you were asleep, he snuck out of bed and into the bathroom, stepping into the shower where he pulled his sweats down, wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked off to the thought of you.

He tried to keep his mind off of it the following day, but it was difficult. By the next time he invited you over, he'd had some time to think about your friendship and his feelings towards you, and while he's still not 100% sure about the order of events that had him end up on top of you, he really couldn't resist you anymore - especially not when you undressed that way for him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's no virgin and he definitely knows his way around the bedroom, but he's not interested in one-night-stands or any friends-with-benefits-type deal. He's a very monogamous man, wants to be close only to someone who he's in a dedicated relationship with. He might not exactly have been with plenty of women, but he pays close attention to the one he's with and is almost freakishly good at finding those exact spots to make your mind melt.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Any position where he can feel your body right up against his. He's the type to hold you almost overwhelmingly close, but you like it - you can't tell where you end and he starts. The entire expanse of his chest against your own or against your back, his legs wrapped up in yours, fingers entwined, arms pinned. He likes it if you or he can sit straight up so he can get a good view of you, but he's always drawn to that "the closest we can physically get is still not close enough" kind of position.

If you feel a bit daring and can withstand those big, dark puppy eyes of his, you can definitely use this against him. Gently urge him to let you take care of him, tell him to keep his hands to himself - no need to restrain him - and watch him crumble underneath you. Once again, he never says this out loud, never dares to actually ask for it, but fuck, he loves it.

He doesn't stray far from this all that often, but he's also surprisingly into holding you up against the wall, which definitely caught you by surprise when you found out. Doesn't happen very often, but you're certainly not complaining when it does.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He doesn't exactly make a lot of jokes, but he says things that make you chuckle, and then that will make him chuckle, and then the two of you are just a pair of giggly messes making each other come apart in just pure joy and pleasure. He sometimes says incredibly sweet things that'll have you giggle like a school girl talking to her biggest crush and he just loves making you laugh out of love.

Of course, he can be quite playful and both of you have had each other in stitches, but it's usually because of something unpredictable and out of your control that you can't really do much else about other than laugh. Once it was a very loud pair of cats fighting out on the street just outside your home, another time it was Rudy bumping his head into the wall above you, and another time your neighbour sneezed really loudly and it startled both of you into an absolute fit. So while Rudy might not be the biggest jokester, he doesn't mind a good laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He doesn't actually have much of a happy trail - it sticks up maybe an inch above the hem of his boxers - but there's a rather thick and curly patch of hair down there. It's not very unruly though and it doesn't really spread out all that much. It's surprisingly soft and luscious, actually. He doesn't need to do much in terms of trimming, but he'll do a sweep with the trimmer for the sake of comfort every now and then, especially during the warmer months.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Oh, he's all over this. He's practically bursting with love and warmth when he holds you close in literally any way he can, regardless of if it's when you're naked in bed with him, or in your pajamas, fully swaddled with blankets and sitting in front of the TV, watching bad soap operas. Intimacy is a big deal for him and he takes it very seriously. Hell, nudity never needs to lead to sex, it's just another way for him to feel you.

He's oh so sweet and very gentle with his affection for you and just wants to spend as much time as he can with you, without being overbearing of course. Doing domestic tasks together, taking naps, hushed conversations in the middle of the night - he's all about that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

It shames him a bit when he does it; it feels like it's something he shouldn't be doing, so he tries to steer clear of it. But since the two of you got together, it's become way more challenging than it ever was before, and you've sort of relieved some of his previous qualms about it. He doesn't want to do it if you're nearby because it feels like he's going behind your back, but sometimes when far away from you, he might not be able to help himself.

However the thought of someone catching him in the act is absolutely mortifying, especially if it happened to be Alejandro, so even if he wants to, he might not actually go through with it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

He is not a very kinky man, but mostly because he hasn't really explored all that much. He might not be fully aware of what he likes or really wants to do until he finds the right outlet for it, but if you encourage him to try more things out, he'll probably find that he enjoys things like edging, soft bondage, blindfolds and temperature play. He might have a bit of an affinity for biting. When trying out new things, you might need to show him how you'd do it to him first before he feels comfortable trying it on you, but he's a quick learner and he easily picks up on your cues, finding just the right trick to please both of you.

As mentioned before, he has a dirtier mind than one might think, perhaps dirtier than he himself thinks. The more you encourage him and boost his confidence, the more daring he'll get and the more he'll initiate and come up with his own things he might want to try. You might be surprised when he suggests something along the lines of shibari - he won't do anything extreme and doesn't feel any desire to do any form of suspension, but there's something about the intricacy and intimacy of it that he enjoys.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Bed and couch. He mostly wants to lay down with you during sex, but he does like having you up against the wall - when that happens though, it's usually in the hallway when neither of you have the patience to wait any longer. He feels that the shower is too risky - too slippery - so if the two of you get frisky in there, he usually prefers that you move it into the bedroom. Never wants to have sex outside the home though - the thought of getting caught makes him very uncomfortable.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

You. Just you in general. The way you look, the way you move, the way you smell, the way you feel, all of it. He's weak in the knees for you in both the most domestic, loving way and the most lusty, sexual way. He often mirrors you and he's very attuned to you - if you flirt, he flirts; if you're down, he's down. He matches your intention and your energy, so he moves the way you do, looks at you the way you look at him, feels you the way you feel him. It's like an intricate dance that only you two know the choreography of.

While not the jealous or possessive type, there is something in him that feeds off of the fact that others want you but you're his. All these men looking your way, vying for your attention, and he's the one that has it. He's always a bit more intense in these moments, and these are usually the times when you barely make it further than the hallway.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Don't ever - don't you ever! - suggest any form of impact play or choking or anything of the sort! Not for yourself, not for him, that's just nowhere near his list of things he'd want to do to or with you. Sex can be intense and heated and passionate, definitely, but violent? Never.

Gags also, he wants to hear you and he wants to be able to tell you how much he loves you. He's a softie at heart, all right? He just wants to love on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He never asks for it. He reassures you that you don't have to if you don't want to when you ask if you can go down on him, but if you insist, if you tell him that you really want to, he'll take a deep breath before giving you a dazed nod and mumbling out a gentle, "yeah, ok".

He strokes your hair, your cheeks, has a hard time looking at you because it just looks so lewd and you're so sexy and it feels so fucking good. He might moan out some jumbled combination of your name, to slow down or to go faster, how good you are to him, how close he is and so on. He doesn't do anything to control your pace until he gets really close, which is when he grabs your head. He does try to be gentle about fucking your mouth, but he has a tendency to get lost in the sensation and might shove his dick further down your throat than he intended. It's worth it when he cums though, because he heaves forward, leaning over you and moaning into the crown of your hair, while his thighs shake and quiver until he finally comes down from the high of it. He apologizes if he's been too rough, but you tell him not to worry. But regardless of if he returns the favour right away or he goes down on you some other time, he keeps this in mind and uses any chance he can get to make it up to you.

Let him make it up to you, please. Even if he's pushing you a bit farther than you think you might be able to take. He takes going down on you very seriously. He won't allow himself to get distracted by anything (Alejandro called once while he was going down on you and you're pretty sure that's the only time Rudy has ever told you "he can wait") - he wants to give all his attention to you. He holds a strong and firm grip on your hips and thighs, making it near impossible for you to move, licking and sucking and kissing for what might feel like an eternity, coaxing out a number of orgasms in such a succession that it might just be one very extended one. He loses himself in it, too, and he doesn't seem to have any problem looking at you now. His eyes glazed over, heavy-lidded and deep and this time you might be the one who has to look away.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

He's a slow and heavy one, holding you tightly and grinding his hips into yours. He keeps this pace very steady and doesn't really change it unless you ask him to or he's getting close. He's had his moments where he goes quicker and rougher, mostly out of pure impatience and desperation for you, but he prefers to keep it slow and deep if he can.

If you want him to go faster, he'll do his best to hold out as long as he can, but if you're in charge and maybe ride him, he might ask you to slow down, just because you feel so good and he wants to make it last.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He's not a big fan, to be honest. He might try to go for it a few times, but he finds that it's not nearly as satisfactory as actually spending a much more extended amount of time with you, and once he's started, it's hard for him to stop. He once tried to go for a quickie in the bathroom once, bending you over the sink, but those five minutes that he asked for at the start just kept going and going and going and going... he apologized several times during the deed, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop, and you honestly didn't really mind it.

You did, however, take any chance you got to make fun of him for it. He's usually a very disciplined and strong-willed individual, but that just seems to melt away when he's with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

If there's ever anything he'd want to experiment with, he's doing it very cautiously. Remember the temperature play and shibari? He won't touch upon it unless he's read pretty much every article and every tip and every cautionary tale he can find on it. And once he's done that and gathered up the courage for it, he'll talk to you about it in great detail, with flushed cheeks and all, because he wants to know how you feel about it, and if you agree to try it, he'll go at it with baby steps - a little at a time. He takes it upon himself to prepare for everything that can go wrong and explains his steps to you as he's doing them. You might need to tell him to relax a bit, not to worry so much. It's good that he's prepared, but sometimes he needs a reminder to get out of his head and actually enjoy the moment.

With all that said, he won't ever try anything that he thinks might cause either one of you actual harm or put you at risk. He's not an adrenaline junkie, and he personally finds the sex to be mindblowing enough as it is, so he doesn't see any reason to do anything too wild.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

If he was a much more prideful person, he'd definitely be the type to brag about how long he can hold out. But he isn't, so he doesn't, even if you've told him several times that you're impressed with his stamina. He can go for 3 rounds, easily, mainly because he paces himself and has a strangely effective recovery. He has a hard time stopping, he always wants a little bit more, but even he reaches his limit at some point. It of course depends on how long you can go for - it's no longer any fun if you're not into it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He has never really thought about toys, at least not for himself. If he ever came across any of your toys, it would be purely accidental and it might actually take him a moment to realize what he's looking at before blushing profusely and then trying his absolute best to pretend he never saw anything. He won't tell you what he found unless you catch him in the act, or you notice that he's acting strange and convince him to tell you. If you manage to get it out of him, you'll need to reassure him that you're not angry with him, because he's convinced that you'll be outraged if you find this out.

If you tell him that you use them when he's away and you miss him, you'll practically hear his heart race. Couple that with a sultry, "I can't make myself feel as good as you do" and he might snap.

He never considers using them during sex, not out of shame or any sort of qualm towards it, but because he feels like that's your own thing and it's not for him to meddle with, so if you want to use them with him, you'll need to convince him. Be careful though, because once he reaches a certain amount of confidence, he'll really give you a run for your money.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He's not at all a teaser, at least not on purpose. He can get a bit distracted, rubbing and kissing spots just because he enjoys it and you have to redirect him because he's actually driving you insane without realizing it.

He gets a bit uncomfortable if you tease him outside the comfort of your home, so keep it within the walls. If you tease him at times where he can't instantly get to you, better brace yourself, because once he is able to reach you, he won't let go for a good while.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Not very loud, but quite vocal. He sticks to moans and sighs and whispers, keeping his mouth close to your ears so that you can hear him, or to your skin so that he can kiss you. His words might get jumbled up, but he's not the type to ramble even when overwhelmed. He's terrible at staying quiet though, which is just one of the reasons he doesn't want to have sex if not in a room with a lockable door and thick enough walls.

He might actually surprise you with some of the things he says to you in the heat of the moment - it's like he loses his filter, even if it's just for a moment. He barely remembers it if you question him about it after the fact and honestly surprises himself with some of the dirtier things he's said to you. One of the tamer things he's said has been "I wanna fuck you until we pass out, baby," and you remember feeling surprised at hearing that come from him as it sent you over the edge.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

You sat in bed reading a book, leaning back against Rodolfo's chest, with his arms around you. You were reading it aloud as he basked in your warmth, placing gentle kisses against your hair every now and then as just a tiny little sign of love. But as time went on, the warmth began to shift to something else, something that had his heart beat just a little bit faster, and he couldn't even tell what it was that did it. But his hands began to trail down over your hips, and he could tell by the way your voice fell for just a moment that you could tell what he was doing. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his fingers tugging just a little bit at the hem of your underwear and you did your best to continue reading.

His fingers trailed just a little bit further down and you paused for a moment to gather yourself. "Rudy, what-?"

"I'm sorry, can I just..." He didn't finish his question before he slipped into your underwear and he began to work his hand between your legs. "Just... just keep reading, baby..."

His other hand snuck up under you shirt and to your chest where his fingers found one of your nipples. "Rudy, how am I supposed to-"

"Keep reading, please?"

You leaned your head back to try and get yourself together and you felt him moan silently against your neck. You took a deep breath, then focused back on the book and began to read again, albeit shakily. You don't know what got into him, but he was panting against your skin as if you were pleasuring him, and he kept asking you to keep reading even after you came. After the third time though, you threw the book away and begged him to just fuck you already. This seemed to snap him out of it and he finally took his clothes off, letting you get on top and sit down fully on his length.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

6-ish inches, give or take if he's hard or soft. It has a little bend to it and is a bit thicker than others, but not too much. The head of it is a little thicker than the rest, but it only seems to work in his favour.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He's not an overtly sexual type of person, but you do things to him that he just can't resist, so it's safe to say that he wants you as much and as often as you want him. If he's in the mood, he'll approach you carefully and patiently, never expecting you to do anything you don't want to, but you find that his touches and kisses always work to warm you up (just as yours do for him). How high his sex drive is can vary from day to day, week to week, but he's still very affectionate and intimate on the days when it's low.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

It might actually take a while for him to fall asleep afterwards. He likes to talk to you, sometimes about how much he enjoyed it, sometimes about how much he loves you, sometimes about plans or things he'd want to do, and he might talk for a good hour or so. If you're sleepy though, he'll let you sleep. He'll watch you for little while, taking in the sight of you before getting comfortable and falling asleep with you in his arms.

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

[terapsina]

And those rarest of creatures...

My Top 10 Favorite Canon ENDGAME OTPs

(and I realize some of these will be a surprise because I haven't posted that much about them but... well, when everything is perfect and nothing hurts there's less need for venting... also a bunch of them don't align with my Tumblr heavy periods or precede them entirely, so...)

1. Parker and Hardison - Leverage

The absolute sweetest couple maybe ever. The way Hardison just... loves Parker, without ultimatums or impatience. Just there once she's ready to meet his feelings with her own. And Parker, knowing she's developed feelings for... 'pretzels' and admitting it in the only way she can initially. So good.

---

2. Aneela and Kendry - Killjoys

You give me two amoral queens, have them be evil and immortal, and have them fall in love? I was a goner from the word go. Giving them a sci-fi kid just added fuel to the fire.

---

3. Jo and Zane - Eureka

I shipped the 1.0 version too. But when they accidentally erased the original timeline and had Jo remembering being in love and nearly engaged and having Zane not? Damn. Talk about angsty ship bait.

---

4. Kensi and Deeks - NCIS: Los Angeles

Sunshine and gunpowder. Freaking made for each other and doing a proper piney slow burn. My jam.

---

5. Magnus and Alec - Shadowhunters

I mean. Do you think I could resist a grand wedding crash with a 'if your son wants me gone he's going to have to say it to me himself' with the widely grinning sister of the miserable groom going 'I invited him'? What am I, made of stone? (War of Hearts is tattooed on the inside of my eardrums).

---

6. Nico and Karolina - Runaways

Okay. But like, even beyond the flawless imagery of Gothic Witch Queen and Royal Heir of Sunshine and Rainbows... they were so captivating. So ready to sacrifice anything for each other's happiness. I love them your honor.

---

7. Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang - Love Between Fairy and Devil

"Everything in this world is fate. Only love is not fate."

Talk about ripping out my heart. In a story built around two people more trapped by fate than anyone, they save each other by doing the one thing fate has no say over.

(I usually prefer my romances to be the B and C plots, but these two? They are the exception that proves the rule. This whole show is their love story and I was spellbound for 36 episodes straight).

---

8. Shawn and Jules - Psych

So. Much. Pining. And the inclusion of the cruelest 'I love you' known to man, because who doesn't love a good 'I've been shot, and the guy who shot me just let me call my girlfriend but I'm using the call to give out clues about how to find me, so I'm pretending you're Abigail, but he's listening and he wants me to tell you that I love you and I know... think... suspect... that saying it will hurt you, but I don't have a choice and I'm so sorry'.

---

9. Nikita and Michael - Nikita

They both know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Which is why the way them kinda having at least a scene a season where one of them thinks the other just got killed is brutal. But I live for the looks on their faces when they figure out they're wrong.

---

10. Korra and Asami - Legend of Korra

What's more fun than falling in love with the ex boyfriend's ex girlfriend? Nothing. They got me to stand up and pay attention right quick once I realized where this was going (and the finale was how I started watching reaction videos... it made me so happy watching everyone else cry, cheer and squee too)

[xf-cases-solved]

S2E7: 3

Case: Bro... I don't even know where to start with this one. Before this stats project, I had seen 3 maybe one (1) time before, because I had never had any cause to repeat the experience. I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find that, while it is still just as terrible as I remember (and perhaps even worse), it is terrible in an entertaining way, so at least I enjoyed myself, even though I have no FUCKING idea what the plot was about. 

But I'll try to summarize it the best I can. The X-Files are reopened, which would be cool, except Scully is still missing, and Mulder is handling it... poorly. He is basically running his own self-imposed Russian sleep experiment, so much so that at one point during the investigation, a detective asks him if he's going to his hotel to get some rest, and this fucking edgelord sort of huffs a laugh and says, "I don't sleep anymore." Okay, Mulder.

But right, I haven't even said what he's investigating, have I? Well, I would say that he is investigating [REDACTED], but apparently this episode is following zombie apocalypse rules, because literally no one will say the word [REDACTED] out loud except for mb one scene where Mulder briefly references "[REDACTED] myths." Please keep in mind Mulder once showed Scully a shitty drawing of Bigfoot with tiddies and called it the Jersey Devil, so the word [REDACTED] must be pretty fucking cursed for him not to accuse anyone of being one outright. 

Anyway, something something, there's a trio of [REDACTED] in Los Angeles who are called the Holy Trinity, and they're committing murders that have a religious undertone, I guess? And then there's this other [REDACTED], Kristen, who isn't a part of the trinity, but is the ex of one of the people in the trinity? I think? Or he's the one who turned her into a [REDACTED] when they were doing kinky bloodsport stuff? Bro idfk. I was so distracted by the Everything™️ about this fucking episode to really pay attention to the story. It's about [REDACTED] but no one says the word [REDACTED], and that's all you really need to know.

An LAPD detective offers Mulder some assistance on the case, and Edgelord Mulder says, "I work alone," causing the detective to question why an FBI agent doesn't have a partner and we see all five stages of grief flash across Mulder's eyes, and by all five, I mean only one, and that's depression; in the ONLY scene I can recall the word [REDACTED] even coming up, Mulder rambles at a crime scene pathologist(?) about how he had thought such creatures didn't exist, and the pathologist says, and I quote, "You are really upsetting me, on several levels," which was really fucking funny and I wish more people reacted to him that way; Mulder meets a hot [REDACTED] who tries to feed him blood, and his only reaction is to grab her wrist and shout "AIDS!"; the hot [REDACTED] has a tragic backstory, but unfortunately the hot actress who plays her is not very good at acting so no one cares; and Mulder has a very sad hookup, which goes up in flames the morning after. I mean that literally, by the way.

Does someone die in the cold open: Yes. Some [REDACTED] kill him with hypodermic needles??

Does Mulder present a slideshow: He is all alone again since Krycek went and did that whole "trying to murder him" thing, so nah. But you can't keep Mulder away from his projector forever. I want to believe they will be together again soon.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Looooool

Whodunit: [REDACTED]

Convictions: Yeah, nah fam.

Did they solve it: I guess I'll give Mulder a "yes, but." Yes, but there's no way he's going to be able to write a meaningful report on whatever the fuck that was, and also they all exploded so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Hot Topic or My Chemical Romance or fucking fishnet gloves and eyeliner or something, man, idfk. What the fuck even is this emo-ass episode???

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 15 (did you really think mulder could solve a case without scully? i doubt that prior to her arrival in that basement office, mulder ever solved an x-file in his entire goddamn life)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 9 (she doesn't have cell service on the spaceship, or wherever the fuck she is)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6 (she didn't seen anything, but it certainly wasn't convenient for her; she probably would have preferred to be dealing with [REDACTED] than going through all of those... well, we'll get to that later)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 11 ½ (if he would have died in this episode i would have lost all respect for him immediately) 

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 11 (i think as long as we don't know her whereabouts it's valid to consider her as being in mortal danger)

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 16 (fuck it, if i counted him gazing longingly at the sky last episode, i can count him wearing scully's necklace the entire episode and holding it in his hand and staring at it sadly in this one. someone, somewhere mentioned recently in a text post that he would have had to lengthen the chain for it to fit him the way it does, and that's just ☹️)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 5 

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 19 (oh my GOD how X would have roasted him if he had been in this episode tho. it would have been glorious)

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3 

Total Number of (Plot Relevant) Nosebleeds: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 3 (no, but that mfer came VERY close to eating blood, but thankfully his fear of aids prevented it (and not the fact that it was fucking weird for a stranger to offer you her blood to taste??? ok. i think it is way past your bedtime, mulder))

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 4 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2 

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 13 

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 2

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 2

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 3 (no more krycek for right now 😔. but like mulder's projector, i want to believe he will return)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 11½ (i wrote it down, even tho i don't recall doing so)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 6 (this episode is fucking stupid lmfao)

[icarustypicalfall]

Commander's last love

part 5 • fic masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

summary: Hold me, tell me it'll pass. I am afraid I'll never know peace.

warnings: mw3 events, inaccuracies, mentions of death, the slow burn is burning fast.(i am lazy)

note: this part is highly based on mw3 events, also might be high timeline inaccuracies. sorry about that.

tags: @unicorngirly1

"Striving for change, yet trapped in a cycle of sameness, a poignant reminder of life's melancholic reality."

Mission [A2626]

Location: [CLASSIFIED]

Time: 07:09:23 - 25/10/2022

When you entered the mess hall that morning, the first thing that struck you was the serenity. No chaos, no shouting, and no proud American man bellowing his national anthem. It was a tranquil scene.

You didn't pay much attention to it. Commander Phillip was most likely still fast asleep, them higher ranks had the luxury of a good night's rest. You sighed, shaking your head with a hint of amusement. Weeks ago, you couldn't stand the man, but now you were dropping formalities and exchanging jokes with him.

It was terrifying, in a way that completely captivated you. The feeling was too powerful to ignore. Not a nagging headache or a throbbing wound. No, it was a heartache. One that gripped you every time your eyes met with the commander's.

From the moment he set foot in the base, you knew he would be trouble. A persistent force, like a charming Hydra. You had let the Hercules swrod down, along your guard. you've lowered the defences and the built up walls, surrendering to his charm.

Perhaps the commander deserved a chance. Every attempt he made to get to know you was proof of his dedication. It was almost laughable how the tables had turned. He had managed to charm his way into your thoughts. You decided to end rapidly your reports then pay him a visit, as you hadn't caught sight of him in quite some time.

Despite all the hardships he had endured, it was the last call that Phillip received that truly shook him. It wasn't just his nervous system playing tricks on him or the stress wreaking havoc on his stomach. It was genuine fear, a past regret that he thought he had buried when he left Las Almas.

Life presents us with limited options. You either patch up your wounds, move on, and forget the past, or you let the wound fester, remaining open and growing larger with time until it consumes you entirely. Phillip's life fell into the second category. It always had and always would, from the moment he entered crying to the moment he'll dying.

He found solace in the brief moments you two shared. But now, all his anguish resurfaced upon receiving new orders from the general. He didn't leave his room, informing his soldiers that they would receive the new orders through Martin.

Phillip lay in his room, reminiscing about the previous night's events. His fury boiled within him as the older man gave him orders with a careless smirk.

"You know what to do, right? If they refuse our deal, you..."

Phillip cut him off, his face a picture of denial.

"General, you mean..."

"Yes, blow up the entire base. It's nothing new, right?"

Heartache struck once again. Forever and always. Peace would forever elude him. His lips trembled as his mind wandered back to you. No, he can't...

"You are paid to follow orders, Graves. I can find someone else to do your job for half the price, with no negotiations. You understand that, don't you?"

Another display of the general's power play. Phillip remained silent, absorbing the words like poison. He knew it would make him sick when the time came. Slowly, it would kill him. He pleaded for a little more time. He couldn't do it. Not again.

Phillip had grown weary of being the villain. All he wanted was to be happy. He understood the sacrifices that came with being in the military, the lives you would lay down to achieve your objectives. But there had to be a limit, right?

He had already lost everything. Family, friends, lovers. TF141 and Los Vaqueros despised him, yet they had once made him feel like he belonged, like they shared a bond. But that bond shattered the night he took over their base. He had deceived his way through life, only to have it all fall apart when he tried to change, to be better.

A knock on the door interrupted his misery, prompting a groan from him.

"Martin, I've told you twice, I'm fine. Can't a person rest in this stupid place?"

You poked your head through the door, eyes narrowed and face concealed by a mask.

Playfully, you uttered:"Now who's base are you calling stupid?"

Phillip jolted upright, his eyes darting around in a frenzy. The evidence of his anguish lingered, temporarily pushed to the recesses of his mind. He managed to muster a forced smirk, but his trembling lips betrayed the falsehood. "Well.. I never thought it would be you, sugar.."

You observed him. He was wrapped in the comfort embrace of a soft blanket, his eyes reflecting a deep crimson, concealing untold torment. Phillip appeared utterly miserable, to put it mildly. He hadn't bothered to shower or leave his bed all day. Sniffing, he averted his gaze, not out of embarrassment, but out of fear that you would see the truth hidden within his eyes.

You spoke up, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence with a touch of amusement. "What's the matter, Phil? Did something get in your eye?"

He chuckled sheepishly, shaking his head. For a brief moment, it seemed as if his face brightened before plunging back into the abyss of melancholy.

Shaking off his thoughts, he refused to spoil this moment. He knew that words had the power to taint this heavenly jiffy. He longed to seize it, to feel its edges softened by weeks of vulnerability and profound conversations. After a moment, he let the words slip, his gaze fixed on you, his blue eyes locked onto yours, imagining that you were looking at him with the same intensity, dressed in white and surrounded by loved ones who'll witness the legacy.

"No, sweetheart... It's just... No... It's complicated..." he trailed off.

You raised an eyebrow, sighing. "Martin was looking for you. He said they wanted to discuss something about a certain 'secret.' What's that all about?"

Phillip choked on his own saliva, staring at you in disbelief. You shouldn't have known about the new orders, and neither should any other member of this base. He responded defensively, his words rushing out. "It's nothing... Why don't you go join your boyfriend, huh?"

The words stung him, but he couldn't help himself. Jealousy and agony had blinded him, unable to bear witness to you and Sky, laughing together over dinner while Phillip watched from a distance, yearning to be the one who brought a smile to your face.

"...Boyfriend?" The uncertainty in your voice left Phillip bewildered.

He raised his hand, pointing at you, then mimicked a fall from the sky to the ground. Confusion filled his voice as he spoke. "You and Sky... You are a thing!"

Silence hung in the air, followed by the most genuine laughter. You wheezed, slapping your knee and giggling uncontrollably. The sweet melody of your laughter was pure, something he had sorely missed. His ears had grown accustomed to screams, gunshots, and explosions, not the gentle giggle or the tune you hummed. Warmth surged through his insides, radiating from his heart and enveloping his mind. Blushing, he looked down.

"Where on earth did you get that idea, Phillip? Sky and I are friends, we've known each other forever!" You paused, wiping away a tear before playfully crouching down. "I never thought you would fall for such gossip."

Oh...

He rubbed his neck, feeling shame wash over his face. You continued to stare at him, your eyes narrowed yet filled with a glimmer of light.

"My mistake, doll... I thought..."

"You thought what, Phil?"

He closed his eyes, your perfume filling his head. The stars got red and the night is blue. He didn't want to say something foolish or scare you. God forbid.

In your presence, he felt as though he was in the company of a gentle creature, a beautiful pearl he never thought he would need in his life. Unfortunately, you were too good for him. You were a sun that would blind him if he stared for too long. God only knew how far he would go, willing to burn in flames just for a glimpse of you.

You were crouched beside him, a few feet apart. You could see the specks of grey in his hair, the blond locks carelessly resting on his forehead.

A surge of courage built up within you. Your eyes met once again, capturing the soft blend of his baby blues and your gentle gaze. You could swear you saw a cry, a helpless wail, hidden within his irisis.

Holding your breath, you reached out your hand as if to soothe his demons. He surrendered, his pupils dilating with an overflowing longing. He leaned into your touch, and you smiled. With tender care, you brushed his hair behind his ear, tracing your hand gently along his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"What's inside here?" you insisted, cradling the side of his head. He smiled.

"Just stupid things, doll. It's nothing... just stupid things."

You sighed, nodding. You knew he didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps, for the sake of preserving whatever bond you two shared, it was best to let it go.

Phillip closed his eyes, letting out another long sigh. The weight on his shoulders seemed to ease, leaving nothing but a sense of relief behind.

He flinched as the phone rang, abruptly interrupting the silence. He shook his head, motioning for you to stay close. He didn't want to deal with whatever tantrum General Shepard was having. All he wanted was to rest. Answering the call, he carefully chose his words, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on you, wearing the same smile from ages ago. He would tell that old dog where exactly he should put his plans...

"Commander Phillip Graves," a harsh voice spoke, and he frowned. "General Shepard is dead. Killed by Captain John Price. There's no need to proceed with your last mission. Or the one suggested by him." Phil's eyes widened, recognizing the voice as none other than the captain of TF141.

"Oh, and Phil..." John spat out, "Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish is KIA."

The phone slipped from his grasp. Uncertain, you uttered, "Phillip?"

No. Not again.

[alexihollis]

Park at Night (Pt. 2)

Part 1

Ajax sat in jail for three months. Three months turned out to be more than enough time for Rembrandt to let go of the anger that had coursed through her when she watched the cops drag Ajax away. She just wanted Ajax back.

Rembrandt visited her a few times. It took a while to work up the courage for that first visit. Then she felt like an asshole it took her so long when Ajax kept stumbling over her words uncharacteristically and accidentally admitted she was worried Rembrandt was dead.

"The other women keep saying a Warrior is dead. I thought- But it's Cleon, huh? Is Swan doing okay?" Ajax asked, soft in the way she only ever was - in hushed tones with Rembrandt as the only listening ear.

Swan was not doing well, actually. But for a very different reason.

"Cleon survived. The cops got Fox," Rembrandt said. Flat. Monotone.

Ajax's face shuttered. "No."

"Threw her off the platform at Union Square." Rembrandt barely felt the words leave her mouth. Ajax's eyes flashed dangerously.

They moved on from the topic.

By the time Ajax got home, Swan was almost back to normal. Talking a bit more, eating, sleeping - all thanks to Mercy who seemed to be some magical Swan whisperer, able to get through to Swan even when Cleon couldn't. Cowgirl's bite mark was no longer visible, no matter what she claimed. The cuts and bruises they all earned that night scarred and faded. It was almost like that night never happened.

No one touched the door at the end of the hall in Cleon and Swan's apartment (Cleon, Swan, and Mercy's now, Rembrandt supposed, but it felt weird to still say three names). Rembrandt liked to pretend it didn't exist. Like there had never been a third bedroom.

Ajax's first night home was the best sleep Rembrandt got in months, curling tightly into her girlfriend and pretending to not notice the lost weight and muscle mass or the new pallor to her skin. It didn't matter. She would gain back the weight, the muscle, and the long days on the boardwalk would bring her color back to its full glory. Then it would be like it never happened.

They could forget that night ever happened.

They could.

Then a week after Ajax got home shit hit the fan. Because Cowgirl still wasn't over getting bitten.

"I don't care what Masai says," she said over a bite of lo mein, straight out the carton, the Warriors draped throughout Cleon and Swan's living room as they gave the latest update. Rembrandt was barely paying attention, sitting at the kitchen counter doodling in her sketchbook. "I don't trust the Bizzies and I'm not going to join them on any bonding shit the Riffs want to try. No."

"Why don't we trust the Bizzies?" Ajax asked.

"Because one of them bit me!" Cowgirl yelled through a now full mouth.

"Oh, for the love of," Swan muttered under her breath, rubbing at her eyes exhaustedly.

"Girl, they tried to kill us, can we get over the biting thing?" Cochise asked.

"No!" was Cowgirl's adamant response.

"What do you mean the Bizzies tried to kill you." Ajax's voice was flat. Dark. Rembrandt looked up from her sketchbook and saw Ajax staring straight at her from across the room.

Cleon and Swan clocked the dark look immediately.

"Let's get back on-" Cleon tried.

But Cochise was already talking, "After the park, we got separated. Swan and Mercy went one way, Cowgirl, Fo- The rest of us went another. We beat them to Union Square, the Bizzies picked us up, we went back to their loft with them - yes, Swan, I know it was stupid, shut up - and then they tried to attack us. With knives, so it could have been worse. Rembrandt got us out, though, through the fire escape."

"Huh." Was all Ajax had to say.

It said a lot. Cochise clocked in.

"What, Rembrandt didn't mention having to save our asses?" Cowgirl asked even as Cochise tried to kick her from across the coffee table. "What the- Cochise, fucking stop that!"

"Nope." Ajax popped the p as she continued to stare at Rembrandt. "That part got left out."

Fuck.

"It isn't that big of a deal," Rembrandt said as she followed Ajax down the street. It had been almost two hours since the tense realization. Cleon had moved them through the rest of the meeting, they finished dinner, even hung out for a little while, even as everyone could feel the tension between Ajax and Rembrandt. When it was time to leave, Ajax didn't follow Cowgirl and Cochise across the street to the apartment they all shared. No, she took a sharp left instead and Rembrandt followed after her.

"Sure," Ajax said. Tense and angry in a way that made Rembrandt antsy.

"Seriously," Rembrandt tried again as they reached the quiet boardwalk. "Cowgirl's dramatic."

"Yep." Ajax kept walking.

Rembrandt stopped.

"This is ridiculous!" She shouted at Ajax's back. "It was months ago!"

"Not for me!" Ajax wheeled around to glare at Rembrandt. "I just found out! Because my own girlfriend didn't think to tell me!"

"It wasn't important!"

"You almost getting killed isn't important?!"

"I'm fine!"

"You could have died!" Ajax screamed. "Because of a stupid fucking decision!" Then, quieter, almost to herself, "What kind of braindead decision even was that?"

And that hurt. That hurt a lot. Despite herself, Rembrandt felt her eyes stinging.

Because a lot of people thought she was dumb. Ditzy.

"That's high math for Rembrandt."

"That's a lot for Rembrandt to remember."

No one ever meant anything by it, they didn't mean to hurt her feelings, so she always shrugged it off, but Ajax-

Ajax never said shit like that. She got mad at people who said those things, even got mad at Rembrandt herself for it once or twice.

So, yeah. It hurt.

"I'm not stupid," Rembrandt said, angry at herself for the choked way she spoke, fists curled at her sides. "I was the only one who tried to get them to stay at the station! I did my best and I did a fucking good job!"

Rembrandt almost missed the way Ajax's eyes widened, but she caught the quickest glimpse as she turned around, ready to race off in the other direction. Let Ajax cool down or something, she couldn't deal with this tonight.

Except a hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

"That's not what I meant." The words tripped out of Ajax's mouth. "You aren't stupid. You know I don't think that and I know it wasn't your idea. Pretty boys ain't exactly your thing."

Confused, Rembrandt turned back around, looking up slightly at Ajax. Who just seemed miserable.

"I'm the stupid one," Ajax explained. "I'm angry at myself. I should have been there. If I hadn't gotten in that fight, I would have been. And Swan and Mercy and we could have just jumped on the train to Coney and," she laughed, a low humorless sound, "Fuck. Maybe we would have beat the cops to Union Square. Maybe Fox would still be around." She let go of Rembrandt's wrist, hands clasping on the top of her head as she walked a few steps away, taking deep breaths. She shook her head. "You could have died and it would have been my fault and I'm sorry."

"None of that is your fault," Rembrandt said.

Ajax didn't say anything, just stared out into the darkness of the ocean.

"Ajax," Rembrandt moved closer, getting back back into her space. "I'm not going to pretend I loved that you picked that fight, but- You couldn't have known what was going to happen after."

"You needed me," Ajax said. "You needed me and I wasn't there."

Rembrandt swallowed thickly because there wasn't much to say to that. She could still remember being on the platform, outnumbered, wishing she at least had Ajax to argue with her for reason, then being trapped in that loft, terrified to be stuck in such a close-quarters fight without her.

"It won't happen again," Ajax said. "I promise. Never again."

And Rembrandt didn't exactly believe her. Ajax was fire and fight and never backing down and Rembrandt loved that all about her. She understood what Ajax meant, though. What she was trying to say.

So Rembrandt wrapped a hand around the back of Ajax's neck and pulled her down, kissing her gently. She pulled away a moment later.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."