#i’m back in this fucking building again

[kara-cant]

This is how MHA got me. Like come on man I’ve never been cool but now I have zero hope. And when I open the mystery character packs it���s like fucking cocaine if I get something good. Pupils dilated, heart rate elevates, I’m literally high out of my fucking mind on serotonin. It’s a $5 plastic toy that looks cheap as hell. To be it’s free drugs.

it's so wild to me that you absolutely cannot force a hyperfixation to happen. like you'll watch the most perfectly tailor-made-for-you content that everyone says you'll love and feel absolutely nothing, and then the thing you watch on a whim to fill time will reach through the screen and put its damn fingers in your brain and start rearranging the neurons right in front of you and every single time you're like THIS??? THIS??????? and this happens like every 6-12 months forever

[cruel-as-sin]

you like to say that you're right | logan howlett

↳ summary: you’re bored when you and logan are about to be on the way home. so, you decide to have a little fun… but the consequences might be worse than you imagined

word count: 4.2k

song: #icanteven | the neighbourhood

pairings: old man!logan x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn light plot, unprotected p in v (practice safe sex everyone!), established relationship, fingering, mean!logan, bratty reader, orgasm denial, rough sex, a little bondage, spanking (a couple times), predator/prey dynamics if you squint (listen….), possessive!logan, lots of marks and bruises, reader has a serious degradation kink, hair pulling, reader flirts with someone else to piss off logan (plays into their established dynamic), hints of misogyny (not from logan), aftercare, no use of y/n, pet names for reader - baby, sweetheart, whore, brat; consent is key here y’all (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: okay so this wasn't supposed to be what i wrote next but i remembered a dream i had like a month ago at this point that started JUST like this does and i couldn't not deliver... so have some insight into the way my feral subconscious mind works lmao

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan knows how much you love to push his buttons. But even for you, this is a new level of crazy.

His grip on the steering wheel leaves his knuckles white as he watches you go. Across the parking lot, through the building of some random store. He’s pretty sure he can see some bullshit comic on display in the window.

When he catches you, you are in for it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Five minutes.

That's how long you have before Logan follows you into the shop and rains down hell upon you.

Your heart has been pounding nonstop since you leaned over to him from the passenger seat of the limo, your eyes flickering past him to the couple on the curb. The girl was trying- and failing- to flirt with him, and even from that distance it was clear he was uninterested.

“You know,” You began. “That girl really can’t take a hint. It’s a little embarrassing.”

His eyes flickered over to you for a moment, narrowing at your tone of voice. “What are you doin’?”

“Nothing.” You said innocently. “I’m just saying, someone ought to go over there and show her how it’s done.”

“She’ll figure it out eventually.” He said dismissively, not buying into whatever scheme you’re trying to plan.

You hummed, leaning in a little further. “Guess it shouldn’t be me though, huh? Since apparently I can’t fucking get any other guys but you.”

Your words were an echo of his own a few days prior, one of the things he’d said when he was balls deep in you. You’d loved it, of course you did. You got off on him being mean to you, because you knew he never meant a word of it. And he told you as much at the end of every night, soft words and gentle kisses lulling you to sleep, wrapped in the safety of his strong arms and sworn promises.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t use this to have a little fun.

So that’s exactly what you’d planned. His gaze had landed on you again, eyes narrowing further, his tone shifting to more of a warning. “Watch it.”

You’d only gone to this plaza to pick up some medicine for Charles- done. But you didn’t need to be back across the border for a while. So it wouldn’t hurt to, say, go into the bookstore across the street and have a look around.

“I bet I can pull any guy in there.” You said, pointing at the bookstore that rests across the parking lot outside your window.

“Is that so?” He was taking the bait- he couldn’t help it. He always did.

“Mhm. Give me five minutes, and I’ll have one of those poor boys wrapped around my finger.” You giggled. Giggled, as if your boyfriend wasn’t glaring daggers through you.

It was his turn to lean in, whispering in your ear. “If you go in there, sweetheart, I’m gonna make sure you can’t stand for the next week. You got that?”

His threat sent a pang of heat to your core. Sure, maybe this was stupid, because even if you did pull a guy, that would only piss him off more, but that’s why you liked it.

You gave him a coy smile before leaning over to open your door. “Five minutes.” Come and get me.

From the moment you got out of the car, you knew you'd fucked up- because he let you. You could feel his stare burning into you as you closed the door behind you, your heart beating so loud you were certain he'd be able to hear it the entire way through the parking lot.

Your steps were quick, hurried- not panicked, but there was a sense of urgency to your movements. The whole time you were walking through the parking lot, you wondered if this was a mistake, if you should just turn back now, fall to your knees and beg for his forgiveness before this went too far.

But it's too late now. You've already slipped through the door of the small establishment, sealing your fate with the ding of the bell and a click behind you.

The woman behind the counter looks up at you with a polite smile. "Welcome in! Is there anything I can help you find today?"

You return the smile with a slight shake of your head. "No, thank you. I'm just browsing."

She nods. "Let me know if you need any assistance."

You glance around the room, finding what you were looking for- a set of wooden steps, leading down to a basement. You head down slowly, finding the room below filled with comic books, action figures, and all sorts of trinkets.

Truthfully, you'd like to stay and look. But you're not here for that.

Pretty quickly, you spot a guy eyeing up the comic book section, as if he's searching for something in particular. You try the classic trick of wandering around the room appearing confused, wondering if he'll take the bait.

And, of course, he does. For a moment you almost feel bad that you're about to lead him on (and maybe bring down the wrath of your surely very angry boyfriend), but then he opens his mouth and all your regrets fly right out the window.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He says as he sidles up next to you. "Oh, you must be looking for a gift for someone, right?"

Yeah. Right. You internally roll your eyes, turning to face him with a wide smile.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping to start reading some comics myself." You admit, pretending to sound a little ashamed about it. "But I don't really know where to start." Your eyes light up, and before he can get out some sort of misogynistic remark, you continue. "You look like you know a lot about this stuff! Do you think you could help me?" You bite your lip in a nervous sort of way and bat your eyelashes at him.

Although he hides it, you can see him short-circuit for a moment, probably not used to so much attention from a pretty girl. I wonder why. But he comes back to his senses. "Of course I can. I'd be happy to help." He begins heading toward a set of shelves, and you follow him. "So many women get lost in this sort of stuff these days. They have no idea where to start, and just end up getting confused. I wouldn't want that to happen to you."

If Logan wasn't t-3 minutes away from storming down the stairwell, you'd punch this guy in the face.

Instead you smile at him like he's the smartest guy in the world. "Yeah, me neither. I was really worried I wouldn't be able to figure out what I wanted." You say with a giggle. "I mean, there's so many of them." You add, gesturing to the long shelves filled with comic books.

Honestly, you don’t even remember what the guy says next, or what you say back. You’re too busy thinking about Logan- he’s the real reason why you’re here, after all.

You know Logan is on his way. He has to be. And knowing that means knowing your punishment is imminent.

It's exhilarating, it's terrifying- but in a good way, in the best way. The hunt, the chase, the lying in wait for him to catch you- it’s one of the most incredible feelings in the world. And you know he loves it too.

The guy off-handedly and quite awkwardly mentions how he goes to a local store nearby for fan meetups, and you enthusiastically tell him you’d love to go with him someday. Blech.

Ding.

Even from down here, you pick up on it. You don't need anything else to know that it's him.

You swallow nervously, trying to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat. This was absolutely a mistake, the kind that was going to leave you begging for mercy the moment you two got home.

...but in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

He's already at the top of the stairwell when you reach out and put your hand on the other man's arm, laughing at whatever joke he'd just made- you hadn't even heard him over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

Logan is down the stairs in seconds, a hand wrapping around your arm in an iron grip as he pulls you away from the guy. The guy takes a step back- it doesn’t take a genius to see the fury in Logan’s eyes as he leans down to mutter to you. "Come on. We're leaving."

You pout up at him, tugging lightly against his grip. “But I wanna stay and look at the comic books, baby.” An idea comes to mind, and you can’t suppress your grin. “Plus, I think some of them might have you in them!”

The guy is long gone now, and Logan is not amused by your attempt at a joke, his voice dropping to a tone you know even at your worst moments not to mess with. "Unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here like the brat you are, move. Now."

Yeah. Okay. You nod, squeaking out an “Mhm!” before he starts pulling you away.

As he drags you up the stairwell, you regain some of your composure and lean towards his ear to whisper. "Relax, baby. We wouldn't want to make a scene."

You're playing with fire and you know it- but he relents, his grip on your arm loosening, his hand instead reaching down to lace with your own, a hold that's just firm enough to remind you of who's in charge here. "Walk." He mutters under his breath, his voice a low, rough tone that sends a chill down your spine.

And so you do, waving a cheerful goodbye at the woman behind the counter and trying to pretend like you're not beading with sweat and dripping with arousal. Logan keeps his hand tightly laced with yours as you walk into the parking lot, opening the car door and giving you a gentle push into the passenger seat before slamming the door on you.

You get a single moment of peace before he comes around to the drivers side, getting in and starting up the car. You put on your seatbelt, knowing you've pushed your luck too far now to disobey him any further.

You open your mouth to speak, to try to diffuse the situation, but the look in his eyes as he drives silences you.

He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. "Had to go and piss me off, didn't you sweetheart?"

"It's not like I actually wanted him." You lean back in your seat, unable to foresee the consequences of your words until it's too late. "He was a misogynistic asshole. I should've punched him in the face." You grumble the last part under your breath, more for yourself than for Logan- but of course, he hears it anyway.

Slowly, he turns, his eyes landing on you.

"But you didn't, did you?"

You swallow, unable to get past the dryness in your throat and attempt to poorly defend yourself before he keeps going.

"No. You made him feel like he was somethin' special, actin' like you'd ever be with anyone but me." He shakes his head again, a chuckle escaping him. "Seems like I need to teach you a lesson."

Before you know it, you're home, the glowing light of sunset coming through the windows. Your pleas die on your lips as he comes to your side of the car, opening the door and dragging you outside and up the sidewalk.

"You know I didn't mean it, Lo-" You whine.

"Stop fuckin' talking." He grabs your jaw, holding it in place, squeezing your cheeks in a little too tightly- but you like it. "Just 'cause you didn't mean it doesn't mean you don't get in trouble, baby. That's not how it works."

Wordlessly, you nod. As best you can, anyway, given his death grip on your chin.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Get inside." He releases you with a rough shove, and you fumble for your keys when you get to the door, some part of your subconscious trying to delay the inevitable- no, trying to draw it out, because you love this feeling.

He follows you in, and he doesn't even have to tell you to head to the bedroom- he just gives a pointed nod towards the hallway, and you obey.

He corners you immediately, his large frame boxing you in against the wall. "You've been a bad, bad girl, sweetheart." One of his hands grips your waist.

"I didn't mean it-" You protest, but your words quickly turn to a sharp whine as he grabs a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back.

"What did I say?" His tone drops lower, a raspy sound that makes heat pool in your gut.

Instead of continuing to argue, you just nod, another gasp escaping you when he tightens his grip and pulls a little harder.

He leans in, his breath fanning across your neck, his teeth scraping your pulse point in the teasing way he knows to be your weakness. His mouth comes up beside your ear, a soft murmur that's by far the gentlest thing you're going to hear until he's done with you. "You remember your safe word, baby?"

You nod, whispering it back to him in confirmation.

"Atta girl." He says approvingly, pulling away and returning his mouth to your throat. His grip on your hair keeps your head back, exposing your neck perfectly to him. He nips and sucks at the skin, leaving marks that won't go away for days- claiming you.

He pulls back for a moment to admire his handiwork. You lean in to kiss him, but a tug at your hair pulls you back, stopping you. "You think you deserve that?”

A frown comes to rest on your face, but you shake your head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He loosens his grip just a little. “You don’t get my fuckin’ mouth unless I’m puttin’ these on you, you understand?” He leans back in, pausing to murmur against your throat, “Lettin’ everybody know who you belong to.”

You nod in agreement- not like you have much of a choice- and he seems satisfied, nipping at your neck again. When he’s finished- Jesus Christ, you won’t be able to go out for days- he steps away, shrugging his blazer off of his shoulders and draping it atop the dresser.

His eyes are on you, a menacing stare that had you swallowing nervously before he’s even opened his mouth. “Strip.”

You don't hesitate to do as he says. You don't take your time, you don't give him a show- not tonight. You're smart enough not to fuck around now. Your clothes come off quickly- your shirt pulled over your head and tossed to the side, your bra unclasped and landing near the door, your pants and underwear pulled down in one swift motion and left pooled at your feet.

Logan wastes no time, wrapping his arms around your waste and picking you up with ease. He lays you down on the bed, mouth trailing down your body at a tantalizingly slow pace, leaving hickeys at every turn- you don’t even want to think about what you’ll look like tomorrow morning.

Finally, he reaches your thighs, and you inhale sharply as he leaves marks there too. Those always sting the most. Usually, he’d soothe the pain by moving his tongue to your clit, but his mouth strays nowhere near it today.

Instead he leans back, one of his hands trailing down your chest, the other holding you in place. His fingers move down past your clit, immediately heading to the wetness glistening between your folds. He swipes a finger through it, humming approvingly before he slowly works a finger inside you.

No matter how many times he’s filled you up this way, you’re always in awe of how even just one of his fingers can go so deep, please you so well. Your head is thrown back in bliss, and it isn’t long before a second one of his fingers joins the first.

He crooks his fingers up inside you, grinning when he hits that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. "There we go, that's the spot." You want to thank him, to verbally affirm his claims- but the moans leaving your lips will hopefully be enough to assure him that yes, that is the spot, and oh god please don’t stop.

It’s good, but not enough- and he knows it. He doesn’t touch your clit, doesn’t give you that final push over the edge. Instead he pulls his fingers out, placing them in your mouth. He doesn’t even want to taste you tonight. Obediently, you suck them clean, and he hums in satisfaction as he steps away, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart." You do as you're told, a shudder going through you at the sound of his belt unbuckling. He roughly grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back and securing them together with his belt. Moments later, you feel the tip of his cock press against your dripping folds.

You whine, instinctively trying to push back against him. One of his hands goes to your hair, grabbing it and holding you in place, while the other brings down a harsh smack against your ass. "Stay fuckin' put."

Another whine leaves your lips, but you bite your lip and stay still even as he smacks your ass again. "Say it." He growls, not taking your silence as an answer.

You nod furiously. “I’ll be good.” You say through shaky breaths.

“Good.” His hands move down to grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh so tightly you're sure you'll be covered in bruises the next morning.

He pushes into you slowly, stretching you out in a way that burns just how you like it. He gives you a moment to adjust- only a moment- before he pulls all the way out and slams back into you.

The pace he sets is nothing short of brutal, and he’s pretty quickly reduced you to a shaking mess. Still, as always, it’s not enough. You need more, you need him, you need-

"Lo-" You gasp, barely able to get out his name.

"Hm?" He seems entirely unbothered, his tone barely changed, as if he’s not currently fucking you senseless.

"I need-”

"What's that, baby?" He hums, thrusting harder. "Speak up, I can't hear you."

You can only respond with a broken moan, your words dying on your lips.

"Guess you must not want it that bad then." You can hear that cocky fucking smirk on his face, can practically see it when you close your eyes.

"Need to cum." You whine, your words slurred and almost incomprehensible.

"Oh, you think I'm gonna let you cum, sweetheart?" He scoffs, the condescension in his tone going straight to the pulse in your core. "After the shit you pulled, you think you earned that?"

“Please-” You beg. “Please, Lo, please, I’m sorry, please let me cum, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, just let me cum, please, I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t mean it-” You’ve lost track of what you’re even saying at this point, desperately racking your brain for anything you could say to convince him to let you cum, to move his fingers down to your clit and rub it in those sweet little circles that will have you coming undone in moments. “Lo, baby- Logan, please, I need to cum, please-” Your words die down into nothing but desperation, a few words barely able to be made out amongst the rest of your nonsense.

Surely, he must let you cum now. You’ve (metaphorically) groveled for him, that’s always worked before.

But his hands stay right where they are.

It's a little embarrassing, but you never could cum without pressure on your clit. Logan is the only man you've ever met who hasn't judged you for it, hasn't let it be a blow to his self-esteem- though you're sure in the back of his mind he's made it a personal challenge to do it anyway. Today, it seems he's taking up that challenge- or he's just really, really fucking pissed off. It’s something of a weakness. On occasion, he’s used it against you, but never like this.

It's a lose-lose. Either you cum from his dick alone, and his ego shoots through the roof because you proved him right- or you don't get to cum at all, and he's satisfied that you've learned your lesson.

He's got you backed into a corner, right where he wants you. The corner, in this instance, being the bedsheets your face is now being squished into, your shaky knees threatening to give out as he continues to pound into you relentlessly, one of his hands still grabbing your hips as his other keeps your head firmly against the pillow.

It’s too much but also not enough, overwhelming you beyond comprehension yet you somehow still want more.

And Jesus fucking Christ, you think you might actually cum.

You try to tell him, to warn him, in case he truly doesn’t want to let you, but you can’t form words, let alone sentences. Instead all that comes out are increasingly high-pitched whines and gasps as your knees buckle and he hits spots so deep inside of you, you think you might pass out.

Finally, you manage his name again. “Logan-” You want to tell him, but instead you just keep going, his name falling from your lips like a mantra, a prayer. “Loganloganloganloganlogan-”

“You gonna cum for me, huh?” His thrusts become harsher, somehow impossibly deeper, reducing your prayers to nothing but babbled moans again. You don’t answer him- you can’t, how could you, with the way he’s hammering his cock into you right now?

“Words, baby.” He says sternly, but you both know you’re too far gone. Instead you just nod, pressing your face into the pillow in an attempt to muffle your cries. He grabs your hair, pulling your head up. “Go on. Wanna hear you cum for me. Cum all over my fuckin’ cock, you know you want to. Let everyone know who you fuckin’ belong to, who owns this pussy.”

You don’t think about the consequences this might have for his ego, or the way you’re not going to be able to walk for days, or the fact that maybe your neighbors might actually hear when you scream his name.

“God, you’re such a whore.” He mocks. “Pathetic.”

You aren’t even ashamed when his dirty words are the thing to push you over the edge.

You just let go.

His name rings in your ears as you scream, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train, hard and fast. You can barely hear his grunts through the cloud of ecstasy you’re floating on, “There we go. Knew you could do it, knew you had it in you- fuck, sweetheart-” He growls, and moments later you feel him twitching inside of you as his own bliss hits, causing your orgasm to just keep fucking going.

Eventually, when both of you are done shaking, Logan pulls out of you. He flips you onto your back, his once mean grip now gentle as he wraps his body around yours as you try to breathe. Soft kisses pepper your forehead, your face, your lips, your neck- anywhere and everywhere he can reach, his beard tickling your skin. His hold is firm, grounding, and he murmurs in your ear. "You did so good, sweetheart. Always so good for me." You whine when his hand brushes against one of the hickeys on your thigh. "Shit, sorry." He pulls back, littering your face with more apologies. "Was it too much?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No." A small smile forms on your face. "But I might not be able to walk anytime soon."

He grins back at you. "Told ya."

You nuzzle your face against his chest, breathing him in. He smells like smoke- he always does, but that smell has become comforting to you. The two of you stay like that for a while before he begins to pull away.

"C'mere. Let's get you cleaned up." He grunts, standing up and taking you with him. He sets you down in the bathtub, turning on the water.

"I'm gonna get some water and food for you. What do you want?" The mention of dinner has your stomach growling- but the thought of him leaving upsets you. Not now, not yet. You reach out a hand, grabbing him by the wrist. He looks down at you, quirking an eyebrow. “You want me to stay?"

You can only nod, and he kneels down beside the bathtub. “Alright. I’ll stay.” Your grip on his wrist loosens, and he brings your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your skin. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

True to his word, he stayed by your side for the rest of the night. Bathing you, drying you, carrying you to the bedroom to get dressed, setting you down outside the bathtub while he showered, then back to the bedroom to put his own clothes on. He ordered dinner, even keeping you with him when he grabbed it from the porch. He didn’t leave you alone, not once, and before you knew it you were drifting off to sleep, still nestled in his arms.

tags: @flowersforbucky @thinkinonsense @gewrgia-black @wlwloverwrites @logansbaby @buckybarneswife125 @sweetverine @dilfverines @wchswift @namikyento @lokirogersgirl @nymphoniah @logansdoe @robo-writing @themareverine @atleastpleasetelephone @r0ttedcherubim @logaenhowlett @th3mrskory @pidgeypidge-pidge

(this is the taglist for my logan howlett one-shots. if anyone would like to be added to or removed from this taglist, please let me know!)

[vvampirelust]

just thinking about sevika riding your face xx

warning: smut, oral (s!recieving), face riding, choking, slapping and that’s all folks not proof read as always

i’m sorry this took so long guys

she does it on purpose. whistling sharply to get your attention. proving some unbeknownst point. sevika drags you from your fucked out daze, sprawled naked and spent in the middle of the bed. looking over, you near squeak like a kicked puppy.

raw need surges from sevika. seeping from flared nostrils with each ragged breath. hard eyes glazed over as she steps forward, returning to your side. “ain’t done with you, baby,” sevika shakes her head, discarding the strap she had in your tummy just minutes ago. she’s been fucking you for hours and as much pleasure she takes from it, she can’t deny the pounding between her own legs

You reach for her which only elicits a chuckle from the woman. Snatching your wrists and dragging you towards her. As your head hangs off the edge of the bed, you still manage to admire every inch of Sevika’s naked form. Mouth watering as she towers over you. “Make me feel good, yeah?” It’s not a question. Sevika straddles your face, giving you no choice but to obey. She keeps you locked in her bruising grasp, wrists painfully rubbing together. Sevika doesn’t care, getting off being the only goal in her mind.

Wasting no time and eager to make her feel good. Your tongue laps against her slit, moaning instantly as the taste of her invades your mouth. Sevika curses lowly above you, feeling you dipping between her folds to drink down her juices.

You feel the warmth on your tongue, the subtle throbbing as you circle her clit. Sevika drops her weight, hips bucking against your face. You shamelessly whine into her cunt as you lick her like a kitten would with milk. Unable to get enough, you devour her.

Sevika releases the grip on your wrists, instead pawing at your breasts. Squeezing and tweaking your nipples between the tips of her fingers. “Fuckkk,” Sevika groans, “Keep going.” Demanding with a sharp slap to your tit, just to feel you whimper against her cunt. She gets off on it, your suffering. She’s harsh with each grope, uncaring if a bruise is left, knowing that the pleasurable pain well, you get off on it too.

Sekiva grinds down on your face as you suckle on her protruding and pulsing clit. Lips wrapped around as you flick your tongue against her. Sevika looses control of her pleasure, letting the needy noises drip like honey from her mouth.

Hearing her let loose like that paired with the musky taste of her on your tongue. You can’t help but let your hand slip down your body, reaching for your own bundle of nerves. Cut short by Sevika grabbing your wrists yet again. “I don’t fucking think so,” throughout the pleasure, she still manages to keep her voice steady, menacing. “Don’t be stupid, you get what you get.” Sevika spits out, grinding down harder on your face.

She loves the way you struggle in her metal and unfaltering grip. Free hand sliding to wrap around your throat, squeezing. Sevika fucks herself on your face, hips rutting against your outstretched tongue. Curses and groans of pleasure falling from her lips as her clit slides back and forth over your wet muscle.

Sevika feels you choking against her, air cut off by the tight hold she has on you. Yet it only turns her on more. You don’t let up, lapping and fucking your tongue into her hole. All while gasping and sputtering into her cunt as Sevika gets herself off. “That’s it, doll,” she grunts with a hard thrust, throwing her head back. “Just love licking cunt, don’t you?” she laughs, tightening her hold on your throat.

And then she lets go, for a split second. Just as you begin to gasp in a breath of air, Sevika is seating her cunt back on your face. Cutting you off. Taunting you.

Her breaths become ragged, eyes falling closed as she nears the high that’s been building for hours. You try to keep up with each rut of her hips, mouth working to make her feel good. She holds your wrists against your stomach, leaning more and more of her weight atop you as she looses control. Even lightheaded, you lap, suckle and slurp at her cunt. Moaning and basking in her taste. Sevika’s thrusts becoming faltered the closer she gets. Grunting with each one and tightening her hold on you.

You’re near thrashing when Sevika cums, out of breath and trapped beneath her. If this is how you die, hell it’s a good way to go. You can feel her cunt throbbing with each wave, cum leaking into your mouth. Sevika can’t hold in the long moan that escapes as she rides out her high. Grinding sensually over your tongue, juices spilling and making a mess of you. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good…” Sevika sighs, “Good fucking girl.”

Gasping dramatically when she finally releases your throat, Sevika chuckles breathlessly. She steps off your face, patting your wet cheek in praise. It’s the most you’ll ever get and you’re more than happy to take it.

[butterflywarrioredits]

WE’RE BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!!!!!

Nah I’m crashing out! Wdym there’s now crying obsidian spikes spreading around the bases!? First a fucking GIANT purple eye that definitely does not resemble fucking Purgatory and now THESE FUCKING BLOCKS SHOW UP!!! If we’re getting another surprise Ender King appearance as lore he’s come back for round 2 I’m done!! I still haven’t recovered from the last one! The mere SIGHT of these blocks give me trauma! I know Phil said he wasn’t doing lore, but when has he EVER kept his word on that?! He said he wasn’t going to do lore in QSMP and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!! I’m betting for another Philza crashout next time he logs or he’s like “Why do those blocks give me trauma?”. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

UPDATE:

THERE IS NOW FUCKING AMETHYST ON THE CRYING OBSIDIAN!! NOT ONLY THAT, BUT PHIL HAS SEEN IT AND HAS WRITTEN “NO” OUT OF IT! I REPEAT, I AM CRASHING THE FUCK OUT!!!

@isa-ghost you seeing this fucking shit?! You might be winning after you suffering queen. This is crazy.

[jeobrala]

It happened again. I’m back in the fucking building. I’ve been laying awake in bed for an hour just liking jayvik posts😭🏳️‍🌈

Menaces. Me and @linddzz talking about the terrible habits of our favourite twig boys let to this.

[sohoumous]

Lucien and my HOK ☺️

[leighsartworks216]

With Bated Breath

Sylus x gn!Reader

Sometimes I think about their fucked up childhoods and have to cry in a corner about it

Based on this post

Warnings: fluff, light angst, sickfic, fever, cuddling, references to homelessness and death

Word Count: 829

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus stirs awake, shifting where he lay on his stomach to watch what appears to be a blanket-monster approaching the bed. Quilts, furs, throws - gathered into one pile and now dropped to be on the unoccupied half of the bed. The person carrying them is gone before he can ask. He settles back into a comfortable position, stretched out like a cat in the sun, and quickly drifts off again.

He’s woken up again who-knows-how-long later. His heavy eyelids crack open to watch you, sitting on your knees on the bed with your back to him, shifting the pile of blankets and a series of pillows around as quietly as you can. With a cursory glance, he also notices the hoard of snacks, juice bottles and water bottles at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing, sweetie…?” he murmurs. His voice is low and raspy.

If you’re startled, you don’t show it as you look at him over your shoulder. “You’re sick.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “So you’ve decided to build a pillow fort while I sleep?”

You huff, feigning annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it. A softness at the edges, betraying genuine concern. It’s so hidden - shoved deep down beneath your usual façade of neutrality and disinterest. He can’t help wondering why.

You shift around the pillows some more, adjust a blanket here and there. It’s like watching a bird build a nest. When you’re finally satisfied with your handiwork, you open the blankets and sit back against the pillows, propped up against the headboard. You continue to hold the blankets open expectantly, nodding your head to your lap.

With nothing being explained to him at all, what more can he do besides follow what you want?

Grunting, he lifts himself up and crosses the distance, slipping under the blankets with you. Your lap acts as his pillow. You cover him with the blankets, tucking him in in a way completely foreign to him, carefully ensuring that he’s covered up to his neck and that no air can get in.

“You’re really doing all this just because I’m sick?”

You run your fingers through his hair. His back tenses, then relaxes, giving in to the sensation. It’s so easy to let go; hugging your waist, tucked in and warm, comfortable - he’s never been safer.

His hair is damp from sweat. His skin burns with fever. Goosebumps raise on his arms. You don’t seem deterred by any of it. You press your cool hands to his forehead and the back of his neck. Your fingers nimbly massage at his tense muscles. It’s hard to believe you’re capable of something so soft after the things he’s witnessed you do.

“I was worried,” you admit quietly.

He chuckles. It’s not as rich as usual, but it rumbles through him just the same; like thunder rolling over distant hills. “It’s just a cold, sweetie. I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

You’re silent. You scratch gently at the base of his scalp, drawing a sigh from the man. “Get some sleep.”

It’s an easy order to follow. You’ve managed to provide him all the comforts he could ever wish for. Admittedly, it’s a bit unusual for Sylus. He’s never been doted on like this. His whole life, he’s never really had someone to hold him or take care of him before. It seemed like such a weakness. Something left behind closed and locked doors, where no one can find him. He can see the appeal now.

In mere minutes, he’s dozing off. His breaths are even. The quiet rasp of each inhale and exhale fills the air. His mind teeters on the precipice of unconsciousness. Dreams and reality converge in a haze. The only thing that keeps him from slipping under is a voice, so soft and so unfamiliar it registers with the same level of danger as a high-level Wanderer sneaking up on him in the dark. Fortunately, his reflexes are slowed by his fever, because half a second later, he recognizes who’s speaking.

It’s you.

“Please don’t die…”

You whisper it into his hair with a light kiss, before it’s brushed away by your fingers. But you sound so… scared. Like a child. Like you’ve done this exact thing before - created a nest of blankets and a hoard of food and drinks, held someone in your arms… and they died.

You’d never admit it, if you did. That life is far behind, and you’d both promised that it will remain there. You’d never know his childhood and he’d never know yours. But he knows enough to guess.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t give away that he’s actually awake. Instead, under the pretense of stirring in his sleep, he holds you tighter, tucks himself closer, and stills with a sigh. He can only hope, as he finally falls into a world of dreams, that you do not anxiously wait with bated breath to make sure he makes it through.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08

[fawninthesnow]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛: One Shot

𐙚 Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You and your subordinate, Leon, get trapped in an elevator.

Warnings/contains: enemies to lovers, sub! male, dom fem, slow-ish burn, oral (fem reciv!), nipple play, teasing, feet kink, constriction, physical restraints, mentions of past relationship, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

He tapped his forefingers on his desk and attempted to avoid eye contact with the clock. ‘Only thirty past one? You must be kidding me!’ He thought to himself as the day seemed to drag by. His right heel bounced on and off the office carpeting. Through the glass windows of your office, and with rather annoyed eyes, you glared at him. At this point, he wasn’t even *pretending* to do work!

‘Leonardo Scott Kennedy!’ You thought as your ears grew warm.

You turned your attention to the man across from your desk. “We will prioritize the hostages when it comes to the press, Admiral Macklemore.”

“It is my understanding that whatever information enters this office…does not leave.”

“In this case, such information will not leave my desk.” The older man chuckled, extending a hand across the desk to you. You shook his hand passionately as you stood.

*

“What are you doing out here?” Leon gasped and quickly hid his lighter and pack of smokes. In the alley beside the office building, you folded your arms, staring down at him. “I asked what you were doing while on MY clock?”

“Yes, I know, I- I just need a break.” He wouldn’t dare try to light his cigarette now that you were here.

“You have just come back from lunch.” The fold of your arms got tighter. “Look, I—Leon. I am trying my best to help you out.” The man leaned back onto the brick wall behind you; your back was turned to him. “Don’t you think you owe me this? For putting you back on your feet?” You asked without looking back at him.

“I’m doin’ what I can, [].”

He pulled the cuffs of his sleeves down and slipped his coat on. You turned around and frowned at Leon. “I want you to go home for the day.”

He rose off the wall, “Wait. I- I’m sorry! But I cannot go home.”

“You are fucking with my image; again. Just go home for the day.” You walked past him and made your way into the office building. He quickly followed you and took your arm into his clutch, “Leon.”

“[Y/n]. Please.” His chest heaved with urgency. Seeing his hurt and confused expression only irritated you. The elevator doors opened, and you hit your heel against the wedge, keeping it open. Your body leaned onto him as you read his expression.

“Let go of me.” You whispered. He pulled from you and stood by your side in the elevator. In silence, you glared at his reflection in the metal doors. He looked at your reflection with shame.

“I wish you would give me a second to explain myself.”

“Tsk.”

He turned to you. “That’s it? That’s all I get?” You continued to face the doors of the elevator, begging them to reach your floor so you could leave. “You don’t exactly make this work environment ‘Leon-friendly’.”

“What an ungrateful thing to say.” A sly smirk on your lips as the elevator doors opened. He moved in front of you and pushed his fingers on the emergency close button. You grumbled as the doors shut once again and began its travel to the first floor upon his request. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You want me to fail.”

You laughed to yourself before a nervous chuckle left your lips. “I- no! Of course not!”

“[Y/n], I am not dumb. You want me to leave the military.” He said gruffly, an annoyed edge to his tone. You stepped back into a corner and folded your arms. “What is your problem?”

“My problem? Hmm, I’d say: my disobedient employee.”

“I am more than that to you, [Y/n].” He swiped his thumb over the corner of your lips. You pulled from him. “We used to be partners.”

You shook your head. “We were *partnered*, there is a difference. You hated working with others. That is why I am—”

“Behind a desk?”

“No! You are. I am head of Security for the—”

“Temporarily. Even so, it means nothing to you. You would rather be in the field too, don’t lie to yourself!” You turned your back to him and pressed every button on the elevator. Anything to make this stop! You lifted your fingers from the buttons and stared at the numbers on the screen. “Look at that…” Leon stood behind you and put his hands in his pockets. Your eyebrows furrowed as the numbers blinked. “You…broke it.”

“W- what? What the fuck?!” Your hair flipped quickly as you turned around to him. “How do we get off?!” He shrugged. “No…no!” You turned over your wrist and read the time on your watch. “I have a meeting!” He said nothing as you panicked and fished in your skirt pocket for your pager.

He watched as your pencil skirt held your waist and pulled with the tug of your fingers. “No service in an elevator.”

“Perfect.” You tapped your heel, “No, this is just perfect! Once again, you have proven yourself as a nuisance!” He rolled his eyes along with you.

On either side of the elevator, you two leaned back onto the wood paneling. Your gaze was on the wall beyond Leon and his eyes were on you. Around fifteen minutes had passed by now and no call to the elevator came. No one knew about the broken elevator nor where you or your subordinate were. “You critique me harshly.” Leon said to break the silence.

“Think of it as my way of looking after you.” You crouched onto the floor and settled your back against the wall once more.

He looked down at you. Even so, from your crouched position, you still held his attention in a chokehold. “That right? Thank you, mommy dearest.” He said with a lick of sarcasm. You smiled and kicked your heel off towards him. He caught the shoe and sat on the floor of the elevator. You observed him as he studied your heel. “Saint Laurent. Six inches…? Why do you need to be so high off the ground? You are tall for a woman.” He tilted his head; blonde hair fell over his eye.

“I do not think of such things when I am shopping.”

“Yeah? Because these are custom.” He turned the shoe to her; the commercial tags were all gone, as well as the label. “So, some thought must’ve been put in.”

You took your shoe back from him. “Do not profile me. I am not your friend. I clear your checks.” You reminded him before turning away from his blue eyes.

“Right.”

Minutes passed and the temperature rose slightly in the elevator. Leon removed his coat and tossed it to the side. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse and fanned yourself. He watched as the flap of your collar rose and fell with the wind created from your hand.

“Would you like me to help?” He glared at your breasts; you weren’t too fond of wearing bras. As you sighed, sweat ran down your tits and to your abdomen where it was caught by your shirt.

“In what way can you be of use, lapdog?” You sighed and stood by the panel of buttons beside the elevator doors. You took off your other shoe and placed it in the corner. His eyes shifted to your feet in your tanned stockings. One heel was lifted and the other planted. “Stop watching me.” You said softly as you used a pen from your blouse to pry at the paneling. His firm and warm bulge pressed on the front of his pants; his hands covered the sight. He squeezed his red knuckles and try to calm his curiosity, his filthy imagination.

He grew warm under his shirt and dropped his gaze. “I apologize.” Leon attempted to stay as still as possible, however, the harder he tried, the more he twitched.

“Come help me.” He rose from off the wall and kneeled beside your legs. “Do your best to fix this.”

He scratched his scalp before revealing the cords. “T- there isn’t much I can do if I- uhm,” You crossed your legs and leaned over him. “A…breaker.” Your hair reached his; your dark hair overlapped his.

“A what?”

“Like uhm, the thing with the rows of switches.”

You rolled your eyes, “You and I both know that you can do something.”

He looked between you and the many wires. “But I don’t. Listen-“ He tried to stand, but lost his balance. You grabbed his arm and held him still. His cock rubbed down in his pants, gently massaging his shaft before he adjusted himself. When you pulled him upright, his sleeves rubbed against your stockings.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just lightheaded.” You looked up at the ventilation ceiling paneling.

“You’ll be ok.” You rubbed his shoulder. “Just try your best.” He sighed under your touch and relaxed his shoulders. He was used to this when he was partnered with you. Your words of encouragement filled his ears as he worked on whatever task you gave him. He messed with the paneling for a short time before the numbers stopped flashing and the lights to all the floors shut off. He turned to you before the lights of the elevator shut off.

You looked around the elevator before using the light from your pager. “We might be stuck in here for a while longer, Leo.” He turned his gaze to the floor immediately and began to breathe in and out of his mouth. “Relax, I am sure now that the power is out, security will be alerted.”

He covered his mouth as a pant slipped out of him. He leaned back against the wall and observed your face in the light of your pager; the streaming light was a way to see the shape of your body in your curvy shadow. You are feminine like that, alluring in that manner; it was hard to keep his gaze from you. Just the way you filled your clothes; any slick comment would roll off him. He lusted you, still does. It was embarrassing. All this time and yet he still hasn’t fucked you. The guys on the taskforce would clown him for it because fortunately, you weren’t *easy*, and unfortunately, he was.

Say the word, give him the greenlight and he would drop his pants with no hesitation. But it was that part of him you knew and hated so much. You like the chase, the hunger.

*

You sat on the floor, and he stood in the adjacent corner. He managed to relax his bulge and his nerves. There was no saying how long it would be until someone came! He looked at you, your skin looked wet with sweat, some strands of hair stuck along your collarbones, neck and forehead. He noticed hair that stuck to your bosom and how it curled on your unbuttoned blouse.

His own blonde hair stuck to his forehead and down his neck. “How are you feeling?” Your pager rested in the middle of the floor as a beacon.

“Cool as a cucumber.” You muttered. He kneeled by your side and undid the cuffs of your sleeves and rolled them up your arms. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“…I don’t want you to leave the military.” He listened as you undid the cuffs on his sleeves and raised them. “I am making no progress. You’re right. I don’t want to be surrounded by the same things as when I was on the taskforce.”

“Things? You mean me.”

“Whatever I do, I can’t get away from you.” He sat against your wall, and you stood. “That was not an invitation…”

He grumbled, tossing the idea over in his head before giving in to the urge, “Are you seeing anyone?”

You turned your eyes to his strong forearms; the black ink from his tattoos covers his tanned skin. “No.” You folded your arms and turned away. Sweat went down his temples as his head rests on the wall. “Has someone made their unfortunate way into your life?” He could only muster a smile as he scratched his head.

“Lines of ‘em.” He spoke back into your sarcasm. “Did you send for me?”

“Hm?” You turned your attention back to him.

“Did you make the request? For me to be in your office?” You were silent as you watched him closer. His blue eyes peered up at you from his position on the floor. “I’ll take that as a no.” He looked disheveled and you were sure you looked the same. “Contrary to what you believe, I am grateful to be here. I like seeing you every day, [Y/n].” He glared at your thighs, held so gently by the stocking up your legs.

“Oh? That’s interesting.”

“Why are you so…baseline with me?” His eyes flickered to your breasts for the first time in a few minutes.

You laughed, “I keep it simple.” A sigh left your mouth as you wiped sweat from your forehead.

"You’re scared of getting close to me again.” You shook your head and looked at the elevator doors, “You think I’ll abandon you…or not show up like in the field.” You ignored him as if he said nothing. “Talk to me.”

“Jesus, let me out!” You screamed and kicked the elevator doors. Leon stood behind you.

“Stop that.” He pulled your arm and moved you.

“You are insufferable! Let go of me!” He wrapped you in a bear hug from behind, keeping you still. As you kicked around, your feet a few inches off the ground, he grew distracted by your stockings that now had a rip in them, from your ankle and up your thigh. Your skirt raised just enough for him to see the design of the lace around your thighs. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You looked down at his arms that tightly held your torso. Your breasts rest on top of his tattooed forearms. Your ass rubbed against his pants with no regard for how stimulating that could be. “[Y/n]. Relax.” He moaned softly. “W- We will get out of here soon.” You pried at his hands and kicked him in the leg. He held onto you firmly and stood his ground. “Stop fighting me.”

Leon put you in a corner of the elevator and pressed onto you tightly. After some time, you stopped trying to move from his grip. A few sharp exhales left your mouth as he continued to hold you there. Your breasts pressed against the cold metal wall and your nipples grew sensitive. “…you have a boner.”

Leon checked himself before pulling away from you. “I- I am sorry.”

The pager died and you two’s only light source was now gone. You stood side by side before you reached for his hand. Planting his callused palm on your breast, you trembled.

Leon let out a deep exhale and turned to you. Although he couldn’t see much, he knew your gaze was on him. He felt your hard nipple beneath his touch and began to explore for himself. The man rubbed over your blouse and massaged your breast carefully. It did not take long before he pulled you to him. Your back was to his chest as he took both of your breasts in his hands. The man moaned as you grind your ass slowly over his crotch.

He popped the buttons of your blouse and carefully moved his middle fingers over your nipples. Your hands rest on his knees as he pecks kisses onto your moist skin.

Maybe it was the temperature of the elevator or just the closeness of his body, but your hair began to frizz from the humidity. But something was wrong. This felt…wrong.

When you pulled from him, Leon immediately reached for you again. “Calm down.” His eyes shut as he felt your nails, and gentle fingers on the back of his neck. You pushed him down and he rested on his knees.

Leon gently unzipped the back of your skirt and pulled it off. A deep groan came from his throat when you wrapped a leg around his neck. He buried his face in your panties; his strong nose pushed into the wetness on the lace you wore. “Mhhhh~” His hands caress your ass and hips as he tried to pull down your panties. “Please.” He sounded so pathetic. You usually hated that but this time…his words were like sweet nectar flowing onto you. “Let me take them off,

“No.”

Your reply didn’t discourage him, his hands gripped you tighter as his mouth latched to your cunt. A shivering moan left your lips as he continued. His lips found your clit, gently sucking as you pulsed in his mouth. The lace didn’t discourage him either, eating your cunt through the barrier.

He lost himself in the sounds of your moans and whispers; the taste of your cunt, a slight taste of sweat from your thighs, and the feel of your soft skin in his firm grip. You held onto his hair to keep stable, both of your legs around his neck. Leon helps you up with his shoulders and rose you against the wall. “O- oh, my god~” He tore at your panties with his teeth, his jaw clenched with determination. “L- Leon!” You heard to the fabric rip and felt his tongue dive into your cunt.

His warm and thick tongue made countless passes through you as if trying to milk your pussy of all its juice.  Your eyes fell back into your head; not that he needed to see this, but he could imagine it as you let out those pretty, and breathless moans. If anyone *was* outside the elevator, they could hear you clearly.

When his soft lips grazed up to your clitoris, and left tender kisses, he slowly eased one digit deep inside of you. Your nails dug into his scalp and your thighs closed tighter around his head. “M- more.” You whimpered.

I'm off my hiatus!!

Dom Leon next bc i've been writing both of them at the same time. Tried something new with the feet thing lol.

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[cruelxfantasies]

steddie. tw: slight mention of abuse, hints/mentions of bdsm, goes between Steve and Eddie third person pov.

at 32, Steve follows in his father’s shadow. he sold his soul 12 years ago to the 9-5. when they open a new office in chicago, steve is the one who is sent to oversee that the plans come to fruition. chicago is his new home for the foreseeable future.

steve doesn’t want to do this, he has to — it’s his father’s decision so letters are sent out to the tenants of the building, stating they have 1 month to get their belongings together. they’re being evicted. steve’s company was coming in, bringing it all crashing down to put up some new condos.

so this is what his life has led to. tearing people away from the only home they ever knew. from what he read, some of the tenants had been there for 30, 40 years. the rent was stabilized. what the fuck was he doing? pushing back against his dad would accomplish nothing except gaining steve a bruised rib. his most recent one is fading to a yellow, stemming from a small error steve made during a prior deal that caused issues down the line.

the weeks come and go. the tenants move out and steve goes to view the building in person as the last of them gather their possessions - an older woman, probably in her late 70’s, stops with a suitcase in her grip and eyes him up and down. from how he’s dressing, Steve’s aware that she knows who he is.

“parasite,” she spits at him. this word stays with Steve. her voice is on replay for weeks in his head. she’s right — he lives in luxury and he profits, thanks to the work of the poor and taking advantage of them. his drinking worsens. Steve knows he can’t go on like this. he needs retribution.

he finds it in Eddie.

Steve pays Eddie for a service. at least, it starts out that way. each time he feels the heat from the whip, steve breaths a little easier. when the cuffs dig into his wrist, he hopes it leaves indentations — a reminder of what he deserves. looking at Eddie, he sees the beauty that’s voided his life since he was 20. does Eddie see the ugliness that’s glaring in Steve?

Eddie knows why Steve is here, why Steve sought him out. it was discussed before they met. Eddie is aware of some of the actions Steve pulls in order to help the company advance.

he thinks he sees growth in Steve as the months pass, as Steve continues to accept the punishment and discipline Eddie doles out. his suspicion is confirmed after a particularly rough and intimate session. Eddie is cleaning up when Steve says, “Eddie,” and pauses, hesitant. it’s not often he calls him by his first name and he wonders if it feels odd on Steve’s tongue. “I think maybe I’m ready to tell my father that I’m leaving.”

Eddie wants to scream how proud he is of Steve, press into his lips with a bruising kiss. it was this thought occurring that helps Eddie realize this was their last meeting. he won’t be able to see clearly, won’t be able to do his job properly. this is a business transaction and Steve is a client.

when he tells Steve, the heartbroken look on his face almost causes Eddie to change his mind. almost.

Steve wonders if he’ll see Eddie again, but chicago is a big city. he knows that it’s unlikely. he stays true to the words he spoke to Eddie — he leaves his father high and dry, no two week notice. already wasting away those years at the beck and call of the company, Steve can’t stand to give any more of his time to something that destroys.

he does some good instead. he volunteers at local shelters, ladling soup into bowls for those less fortunate than him. he sorts through donated clothing, separating them into the proper piles to be hung up on racks.

Steve sees the older woman from the building on a sunday afternoon as he stands at the counter, putting together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the lunch sacks they’ll give out soon. she stares at him from a distance, steve pausing mid spread. it’s several seconds before she gives him a curt nod. that’s okay with him.

Eddie sees Steve at the movies on a thursday evening. he’s two behind him in line, overhears what he’s buying to and claims a ticket for the same showing. watches Steve choose a seat in the sixth row and claims the spot next to him. the exchanged look between them reads of apology, forgiveness, longing, hope. Eddie lays his arm out on the seat rest, palm of his hand facing up — an invitation. Steve takes it.

They’ll talk later.

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Twenty Five - Oceans

Part Twenty Four

———

Prior to becoming pilots, brothers Simon “Sideswipe” Salucci and Sonny “Sunstreaker” Salucci had been facing time in juvenile detention until transfer to an adult facility.

The Quintessons had attacked the planet before they were born, it had been their life in its entirety watching the military and first generation of pilots fight from the sidelines.

Their apartment building had been crushed when they were fourteen, Sonny had been inside with his parents when the ship had collided with the structure. Simon had been at school under lockdown.

Neither parent survived.

On Earth, there was always that one time and one place where things could go wrong. For some people if things could go wrong, they would.

Miami Florida, 2007

Even with the war against the tentacled invaders happening, The world kept spinning and lives kept moving forward. 

Sonny and Simon Salucci were arrested in February of 2007, for possession of illegal substances with potential to distribute, street racing, reckless endangerment of the public, and underage possession.

The pair agreed to join a release program, to join comparability testing through an organization named MECHA, get time off your sentence and work opportunity for non-violent offenders if you were found comparable.

They joined the piloting program in mid-2007, six years before Arcturus One.

One year before the disappearance of pilot 1061.

—

When the ship hit the water, Sunstreaker was swearing up a storm by that point, “Mother-fucking, damned alien, freak ass tentacle, sons of bitches!” Diving forward, he grabs and pulls away part of the command console, opening his cockpit to shove what held data next to his piloting chair, being as careful as he can. 

Once his cockpit was sealed again, though it now reeked of Quintesson blood and gore, he moved through the rising water back towards the drop entrance he’d come through earlier.

The initial movement from the shore to the ship was a blur, foggy in his mind already which was not a good sign. His implants were draining down his neck and arms, leaving his skin uncomfortably sticky. 

Diving back into the water, Sunstreaker kicked away from the spaceship, staying submerged while moving away from the sinking craft. The water was deep enough here that it would be fully submerged and not visible from shore, sighing shakily, Sunstreaker watches it sink before kicking back up towards the surface. 

—

Bluestreak was watching through his scope, silent and holding his vent, watching and waiting. Ironhide had fallen silent, also staring off to the water and waiting for the yellow mech to reappear. 

“Come on Sunny, come on.” Blue was silent otherwise, staring as his optics tried to leak, starting at the water. He was able to vent when a yellow helm came up from the water, turning again to look back at the sinking spaceship before turning back towards shore and waving, Bluestreak grins and waves back.

Shaking his head, Ironhide offers a rude gesture, “Fragging Civi show off.” But he was smiling brightly, rolling his optics and shaking his head. Sparing a glance over at Bluestreak, he chuckled, “I’m starting to think it’s a Paraxian thing, liking the odd aliens.” Blue shifted a bit and his face heated, “Shut up, commander, sir.” And Ironhide laughed.

—

The water was still cold but significantly less clear, the blue now mixed with a thick blood that was bright green, for a moment Sunstreaker was thankful that his oxygen tanks were providing his air. Though being underwater he wouldn’t exactly be getting it from outside either. With another stroke, he was able to get his mech's feet back against the sandbanks. 

Standing, the water was just splashing over his shoulder, and Sunstreaker started to walk back to shore. Stance adjusted for the waves above and coral below, trying to be careful of the limited organic life under his suits feet. All audio was turned down to almost off as his comms was still screaming in the background, it would be something that’d have to dry out.

Sunny could just barely make out the figures on shore now and he wasn’t sure if they were happy to see him or pissed off that he made it, both were entirely possible at that point. Now he was grumbling to himself, “I got this shit in my cockpit and I can’t even give it to them till later, oh this was such a great plan Sunny, just go do the one thing they won’t want you to do even though it’s the right fucking thing.”

He hits the water with his fist and sighs deeply, pausing to take a few calming breaths and shudder as more discharge comes from his implants, “Goddamnit.” With a deep groan, he keeps wading through the water.

Whatever planet this was, was far enough away from its local star that the sun hadn’t moved much in the hours they’d been there and the time it took to get to the ship, disable it, and get back to here. Ironhide had sent Bluestreak up towards their makeshift camp, leaving Sunstreaker without an ally. 

Sighing for a second, Sunstreaker adjusts his gait once in the shallows and walks more casually back up to Ironhide, taking a breath before turning on his microphone, “Commander.” Ironhide nodded slightly, standing there for a moment and shaking his head.

“Civi, you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. So, which is it?” Smiling a bit, Sunny shifts to stand taller, “Can’t it be both?” The slow nod was one of a commander, already tired of his shit, “Sure Civi, sure. So,” He steps forward, poking Sunstreaker’s chest just hard enough to send him back a step.

“Want to tell me why you would swim in sodium chloride dihydrogen oxide?” Sunny stared and blinked one, then twice, “Are you asking me why I swam in… salt water?” Ironhide smiled darkly, “Don’t patronize me, so, why would you swim in salt water then?” Sunstreaker was unable to suppress his chuckle, which turned into a laughing fit at the sight of Ironhide’s face.

Sunny was nearly bent in half, clutching at his stomach and eyes watering from laughing while Ironhide was staring down at him with hands on hips, “Well?” Looking back up, Sunstreaker shakes his head a bit, “My home is about 71% water on the surface.” Sighing and straightening, he shakes his head again.

Taking a breath, Sunstreaker continues, “I’m from a place called Florida, it’s a peninsula. My plating and seals are treated to withstand water and salt water.” Knocking lightly on his chest, behind the visor he grins, “It was my job to do what I just did, every day.” Nodding slowly, Ironhide glances back towards where the ship sank, “Even when they weren’t attacking?” Sunny could feel the color drain from his face and his hands tightened into fists.

He tried taking a breath, this was his new commanding officer, he tried taking another, let cooler heads prevail and all that bullshit, “Sir, if you don’t end it before they start, they’ll tear everything apart.” Giving a half hearted shrug, Ironhide shakes his head, “Our mission was to observe the observer, to see what it would do.”

Setting his jaw, Sunny takes another breath, “What it would do, is blow apart the coastline come morning, sir.” He steps forward and Ironhide gives him an appraising look, “You ready to die on that hill? When you’ve got nothing other than a sunk ship that only you can get to?” It took only a moment to straighten his shoulders and stare down at Ironhide, “Yes sir.” They stared at each other. Visor to optics.

Sunstreaker was glaring before that visor, sitting in his chair with hands clenched so tightly the carefully trimmed nails had dug into the skin of his palms, making them bleed.

“Go get cleaned up and report back, you stink of organic sea life.” Ironhide shakes his helm a bit and stands back. Glaring still, Sunstreaker stalks past and towards Bluestreak who’d been waiting against a rock, “You alright Sunny?” Taking a breath, “No, and I need your help. Keep Mecha away from the wash racks, will you?” Blue’s optics widened slightly and he nodded, following and whispering, “What happened?” Looking back towards Ironhide, Sunny turns to Blue, “I’ve got a point to prove.” They share a look, before Bluestreak nods.

The wash racks weren’t much more than a few hanging tarps with a solvent dispenser inside, tall enough to even hide the largest among them and wide enough to hold multiple mecha at once. No one was using it for the moment, as they’d only arrived a few hours before and most of the unit had spread out to clear the area or had been roped into helping Skyfire with his research. 

Sighing deeply, Sunstreaker stepped into the rack and turned back to Bluestreak, “Stay there and make sure no one comes up, I’m going to pass you out something then would appreciate the help with cleaning my suit.” Bluestreak’s face was showing up warmer on the inferred camera Sunny usually kept in the corner of his screens, smiling a bit, he turned away, “I’ll let you know when to peek in.” Maybe there were some things that didn’t change. 

After all, his father was Italian and his mother was Cuban, the differences brought them closer together than further apart. 

Shaking his head a bit, Sunstreaker checks the oxygen toxicity levels before adjusting his helmet and putting on his respirator. The instant on the ship had been fine, his tanks purifying the air quickly but here on the beach there was too much carbon in the air.

Tightening down the mask, he checks the connection before opening his suit, being incredibly careful to reach in and grab the Quintesson command device. It was harder to control the suit when it was open, putting the screens to the visor of his helmet and mask instead of layered in front of himself.

Once it was out of the cockpit, Sunstreaker had to fight back the urge to gag, the slime these things left behind was everywhere. Sighing deeply, he opens a comm line, “Blue, I need your help. I’ve gotta scrub out my cockpit and I need you to hold onto the comms device I’ve got.” Behind the tarp, Bluestreak shifted and peaked awkwardly in, “You sound weird.” Rolling his eyes a bit, Sunstreaker offers over the chunk of ship. 

”Just, subspace that till I can get cleaned up, then I’ve gotta take it to Ironhide.” Carefully, Sunstreaker gets out of the piloting chair once Bluestreak had the device in hand and had turned on the solvent. Moving over, he grabbed a bowl he had for his dinner and hung out the front of his suit to collect the solvent. Bluestreak was watching worriedly, “How often do you do this?” Shrugging a bit, Sunstreaker splashes the solvent across the floor of his cockpit, “Not often, we had teams to do this back home and we have a decontamination cycle we can run on the suits so long as we’re not in it.” Grabbing his blanket, he starts to scrub at the grated floor. 

Bluestreak steps back out of the wash rack, face still burning and now holding a green splattered chunk of a Quintesson comms station. How in the name of Primus did he end up in this?

—

Sunstreaker dropped the comms device at Ironhide’s feet, suit now back to it’s shining yellow and a great deal of the grit removed from his seams with Bluestreak’s help, once his cockpit had been cleared and the air cycled twice. 

Hardly glancing up, Ironhide stayed seated, sipping from his cube, “What’s that?” Smiling, Sunstreaker shrugs and sits down, “Data. Specifically, a Quintesson comms terminal.” Ironhide hummed, nodding slowly before looking at Sunstreaker, “You still defied my orders and didn’t explain what the pit you were going out there to do Civi.” Sunstreaker bit his lip hard and took a calming breath, “Sir, on my planet—“ “Well, we’re not on your planet and I’m not Hound, you were placed under my command for a reason Civi.” And Sunstreaker tried to stay calm, he really did.

”Sir, that ship was eying this shore line like it did to my home. Like I had to watch in school every year and know why it was doing it, year on end. Like it’s done to every planet in the video footage your people have recovered and I’ve gotten to see.” He slowly stands, fists at his sides, “They are using these planets for resources and testing, for what, who fucking knows but whatever they were trying to find here they could easily use on my home!” Throwing his hands up, he turns away for a second before looking back.

He was shaking, “The minute that door opened and I saw the ocean, for the briefest moment I thought I was home, this looks like my home before everything!” He gestures around, getting angrier by the second, “To see them out on the horizon, watching and we were going to do nothing, that is unforgivable not only to me but to all species who are being attacked by these things!” He shifts his stance a bit, Ironhide watching his feet. 

Sunny kicked the heater Ironhide was sitting near out of the way. “I don’t think any of you understand what it’s like to be losing this war! Don’t you get that? There are millions if not billions of people on my planet who are dying! And the Quintessons are collecting data from similar planets to destroy mine! There is no room to wait and see what happens! Once they break one planet they go onto the next, for what goal?” He turns back to Ironhide and freezes.

The mech was on his feet, cube resting on his seat and glaring at Sunstreaker. Ironhide was pissed, “Civi, right now, you and yours agreed to fight for mine. And for that we’re fragging grateful but we do know what it’s like to be losing this war because we are. We did in the past and we aren’t going to let that happen again. Whatever the Quints want, if they want it badly enough they will find a way to get it.” He sighed slowly and rested a hand on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, “We’re going to have a long and calm discussion, then your aft is going on night watch. Do I make myself clear?” Sunstreaker stared before slowly nodding. 

With a smile, Ironhide sat back down, “Go get my fragging heater back, Blue will be over in a moment, then we’ll all sit and talk. Primus knows you’ve got a lot on your processor, exploding at your commander like that.” Gulping slightly, Sunny slowly gets the heater and sets it back up before sitting back down, before putting his face in his hands.

His head was killing him. 

Ironhide watched, frowning, “Kid, this war has been happening a lot longer than you think. The Quints want the whole universe under their tentacles, not just your planet, but all planets. If we share what we know, we’ll work well together. If you run off like a chuckle-fuck, there’s no backup and no way to help.” He sighed slowly and Sunny laughed slightly, looking up, “When my mother was mad at my brother and I, she would call us Chuckle fucks.” Ironhide grins, “Yeah, Jazz shouted it once and I had to snatch it up.” Sunny smiled a bit and nodded. 

“Speaking of,” Bluestreak walks over and scoffs a bit, “That’s horrible Ironhide.” None of them could hide their grins. 

—

Hound woke up when he was thrown from his bed, his face scrapping painfully along the grated floor of his cockpit with a groan, “What the hell?” Then he heard the district sound of explosions, “Shit.” Diving across the space, he pulls on his helmet and start’s activating his cameras.

It was just dust, he couldn’t see much more than the dust blowing past his cameras. Swearing again, he starts pulling on his assistance suit, each piece clicking hard into place before the back and helmet connect to his implants.

They were swollen and red, not so sore but certainly inflamed. 

Swearing again, he grabs hold of the side of his piloting chair, pulling himself into it and starting to connect. Turning on his comms, “What the hell is going on out there? I can’t see anything.” Trying to move the suit showed a heavy weight on it, swearing, he moved to get it up, “Don’t move. It’s a dust storm.” Mirage’s voice was quiet, his body holding Hound’s suit to the ground.

Taking a breath, Hound got one of his cameras to clear and it was still hazy with dust and dark, “What the hell happened? Where are the others?” Mirage sighed slowly, “They're all hunkering down like us, this wasn’t supposed to happen while we were here.” It brought them both pause and Hound sighs, “So something is causing it.” Mirage stayed quiet for a moment longer, “That’s what Megatron thinks.” Sighing deeply, Hound lowers his helm back to the ground. 

Adjusting his sensors, he was able to see how Mirage was covering him and adjusted his left hand slightly to grasp the mech's upper arm, holding him there as Hound activated some of his magnets, “Thank you.” He really didn’t know what else to say, still only half awake, “You’re welcome.” Mirage stayed there, with Hound’s hand on his upper arm, trying to see in the dust.

—

To be perfectly honest, the talk could have gone better, Sunstreaker could be asleep right now like his body was crying out to be. But it wasn’t so bad with Blue by his side, listening to the mech tell another story about a different ocean world they had been to in the last war, “And so, it was just Smokey and I, staring down this giant thing. It honestly reminded me a lot of a Quintesson, but we were staring it down while Prowl was yelling at us to run.”

Smiling a bit, Sunny nods, “Except you couldn’t.” “Exactly!” Bluestreak grins and looks over to Sunstreaker, pausing, clearing his throat, “Uh, Sunny. I’ve been meaning to ask, is it weird? Piloting around a giant suit like that? I mean, for us it’s just us but for you, its more than that.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker leans back on his hands to look at the sky.

It was different stars, drastically different stars than home, even if for a moment he was able to trick his mind into thinking they were sitting near North Beach. 

Bowing his head a bit, he sighed, “In compatibility testing, they put your mind through the suit’s system, or at least that’s the best way to describe it. You become part of the system in some way, who you were then and continue to be each time you connect to the suit is saved in its memory? Uh, I’m not an engineer.” He chuckled weakly.

Picking at his fingers, he stared at the water, “It becomes like a second skin to most of us, some even forget that they are connected to the suit.” Sunny paused and nodded a bit, “I forget I’m connected to the suit sometimes.” Glancing at Bluestreak, he brightens his visor slightly, “But it depends on the person. Some of us are just entirely comfortable in the suit and couldn’t imagine doing anything else.” Nodding, he buries his hands in the sand for a moment.

Bluestreak reaches over and covers one of his buried hands, “And some aren’t.” Blue sighs slowly, “Anyone I would know?” Smiling, Sunny shrugs, “Sometimes Sides has a hard time in the suit, to him it's always been him and the suit. For me, once I’m connected it’s just a bigger version of me.” Sunny finally looked back to the stars, and the visor reflected them. 

It was breathtaking in Bluestreak’s optics, “It’s not supposed to be like that, you and the suit being so connected. At least, that’s what Ratchet and the older pilots have told me. Everyone thinks it’s because I almost rejected.” His hand, not covered by Bluestreak’s came up and wiped at his eyes, brushing against the visor. 

“I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else, to live and die for this life, that’s why it's been worth living.” Sunny sighed slowly and closed his eyes, “God, today has been a whirlwind, huh?” He glanced over at Blue and smiled, shifting the light of his visor slightly. Bluestreak smiled and nodded, shifting close, “Yeah, but that’s okay. It’s just us awake.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker looked back out at the ocean. 

They sat there and slowly, Sunstreaker rested his head against Bluestreak’s shoulder, “You still need to tell me about the inside joke everyone seems to have.” Blue chuckled nervously, “Some other time. I’ve got watch, you disconnect for a bit.” Sunny hummed.

Even though his head was pounding, he didn’t really want to disconnect. 

———

A/N:

WOW, okay this week has sucked. I’ve been sick and am still sick, my medication is driving me crazy and honestly all I want to do is sleep.

I wasn’t supposed to finish this chapter until I’d written my second personal statement for law school, but then I got into the swing of it so I finished it last night while under a tornado warning.

What hasn’t sucked is all the questions I was asked this week, those were the highlights of my day and improved my mood immensely! I hope to keep getting questions cause I had an absolute blast going through them.

So, ask box is always open, I’ll respond whenever I can and maybe even some spolier-y content down the line. Who knows.

TAGS!!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscarpheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @pour1tin @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare

Then, as always, thank you @keferon for your amazing AU and inspiration.

[bubbleddisasters]

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even without the lack of a magestone on his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

[okaysonny]

business advice ╏ hudson ahn

★ summary: hudson gets a noise complaint ─ from one person.

★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

★ wc: 1.4k

★ A/N: who else has a crush on him

"YOU! YELLOW HEAD!"

hudson's eyes widen, looking around.

but no, jay isn't here. and everyone else has dark hair. which can only mean…

hudson turns to face the girl approaching him, who looks comically angry. he can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

his eyes narrow. "are you talking to me?"

she's now right in front of him, pointing aggressively. "yeah i'm talking to you! don't you own this place?" she gestures to ansan's night club just ahead of them.

"i do. are you here to talk business? although…" he eyes her hoodie and sweatpants. "…you don't really look the part"

she blinks, not expecting a belittling so soon, but quickly shakes her head. "no i'm not here to talk business" she mimics his voice at the 'business' part. hudson feels a vein on his forehead throb.

"you need to turn the music down at night!" she huffs. "i can hear it from my window…" she points at an apartment building in the distance. "…all the way over there! some of us are trying to sleep, y'know?!"

he waits to see if she's finished her piece, before simply saying:

"0 points"

she blinks again. "…the fuck?"

"0 points. that's the score i give you. one…" he starts counting on his fingers. "…you show up sloppy. two. you disrespect me. and three. you start complaining about music when we're doing nothing wrong. where's your decorum?"

"...what- you-" she stammers, clearly speechless at his obviously correct evaluation.

she grits her teeth in frustration. "you wanna talk about decorum? it's not very um…decorum of you to play such loud music in the night!"

he sighs in disappointment. "bad grammar too. - 1 point"

"who gives a fuck?! now you're just nitpicking! and tell your employees to turn the music down!"

"…you're the only one complaining. why should i lower it for one person?"

she pauses, unable to think of a counterargument. "…um…"

hudson doesn't wait for her to finish. "ansan is critically acclaimed for its nightlife. it's what everyone comes here for. the loud music, which isn't even that loud by the way, is to be expected. if you don't like it, then move"

her jaw drops. "you…you ignorant, naive little─" she exhales slowly, composing herself.

"…can you just please turn it down?" she mumbles.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting tired of this argument now. "…like i said, you're the only one complaining. i'm assuming you didn't take this higher up, right? so, i have no obligation to lower it. come back with a court order and then we'll talk"

she sighs in defeat and starts walking back, flipping him off. "fine! but this isn't over, yellow head! i'll be back with that court order!"

hudson shrugs. "go ahead"

she can try, but it won't make a difference. channing can wrap anyone around his finger.

he shakes his head, heading back into the club. what an unsophisticated lady.

he hears her footsteps stop. "…your drinks are crap, by the way"

hudson hates that he can't hide his surprise, but the comment catches him off guard. "…what?"

she clearly notices it, because she wears an evil grin before continuing. "well…my friend likes to go clubbing a lot. she likes everything here, except the drinks"

now it's his turn to blink. well…the drink sales have been down lately. but everything else is in tip-top shape. he just put it down as an anomaly in the market.

he waves a hand dismissively, recovering from his brief surprise. "we take great care in analysing these things. we know what we’re doing. not that i'd expect you to understand"

she rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, second-guessing herself. "...i'm not saying i know how to run a business or whatever. i’m just saying...my friend complains about the drinks all the time. and not just her ─ her other little clubbing friends say the same thing"

hudson tilts his head slightly, her words starting to pique his interest despite himself. "...what do her and her friends say?"

she shrugs. "i dunno. i don't really pay attention. she just says they’re kind of…boring, i guess? same old classics, nothing new or exciting. um…" she pauses, trying to remember. "oh yeah! seltzer's. they wish you had seltzer's here"

a flicker of curiosity crosses his face. "...seltzer's? you mean..."

"yeah, like the fruity, canned drinks everyone’s obsessed with these days" she speaks with less hesitance now.

"i work night shifts at the convenience store nearby, so i see what people like...and it matches up. everyone loves them. so i dunno, maybe there’s something to it"

he doesn’t respond, his mind starting to piece things together.

it's bizarre. they were just arguing a few minutes ago. now they're discussing alcoholic beverages.

she looks at him cautiously before continuing. "and uh...customers buy soju obviously, but they take a lot of fruit to go with it. strawberries and watermelon, stuff like that. it seems trendy these days. do you do soju cocktails?"

...they don't.

hudson stays quiet, arms crossed as he processes her words. she's not an expert, but she isn’t completely off the mark.

he hadn’t considered the problem might be the drinks themselves. ansan had always stuck with the classics, assuming they’d appeal to everyone, and it's worked for ages.

but maybe tastes were shifting. if soju cocktails and seltzers - which they didn't sell - were in demand...it could be worth researching what else customers like. lighter, trendier options…freshening up the menu could attract a whole new crowd, even boost overall sales.

the girl sighs, annoyed by his lack of response. "anyway, sorry. i went off on a tangent. keep serving whatever you want"

she turns, walking away again. "but i was serious about that court order, yellow head!"

hudson closes his eyes, feeling irritated. how has this not crossed his mind before? why does this random girl in sweatpants unknowingly know more than him?

her words stay in his head, and hudson knows he won’t be able to let it go.

"...wait" he says, sighing.

she turns around once more, her brows raising in confusion.

he pinches his nose bridge, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "that was...helpful. i suppose i could ask my guys to...turn the music down"

she stares at him, taken aback, before smiling. not the weird evil grin she wore earlier, a real one. "...you will? seriously? i just...really need some quiet, so i can study"

huh. "...yes" he says, a bit softly.

her smile grows wider, flashing her teeth at him. "wow...thanks a lot. really. i know it's a nuisance for you, yellow he-" she pauses, looking sheepish. "hey, what's your real name? i'll stop calling you yellow head now"

"hudson ahn...sun of ansan"

weird. he's talked to plenty of girls, all of them more beautiful than she is. why are his cheeks heating up now?

"...sun of ansan?" she covers her mouth, perhaps trying to stifle a laugh. "that's...cool"

"what's yours?" he can't help but avoid eye contact.

she looks pleasantly surprised. "me? i'm─"

─ beautiful. her name is beautiful. she is beau─ actually, what's he even thinking? is central seoul's romantic guy rubbing off on him?

hudson rummages in his pocket, handing her a business card. "here. it's my contact details. just in case you want to...point out anything else you notice"

she eyes it peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelief. "i guess all business guys just have these handy, huh?"

still, she doesn't give it back, or tells him to get lost, or rips it up. instead, she keeps it.

she turns and starts walking away ─ for the final time. she looks back at him, waving the card as she speaks. "bye hudson ahn sun of ansan" she giggles. so, she was in fact, laughing at his title.

he watches her figure get smaller, the tiny dot turning into nothing.

a girl giving him business advice...and it's useful? he never thought he'd see the day.

he only saw her smile once, but he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

hudson heads back into the club, getting preparations ready for the night ahead.

she still lacks etiquette. she also giggled at the title he's so proud of. but...that doesn't stop him from muttering to himself.

"100 points"

A/N: okay...i know his hair is more light brown than yellow, but "brown head" doesn't have the same ring to it. just imagine...the sunlight makes it seem yellow, because he's the sun of ansan bye

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[reveriebae]

Numb to the feeling

pairing(s) : Jeong Yunho x reader

word count : 3537

summary : You and Yunho have a toxic, passionate relationship filled with bruises, blood, and uncontrollable desire. No matter how much you try to stay away, you always come back—drawn to his dark hunger and the way he begs for pain just as much as pleasure.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Toxic relationship, obsession, switch! Yunho, switch! Reader, emotional manipulation, rough/intense smut, bloodplay, bruises, possessiveness, biting, minor degradation, and unhealthy dynamics. Let me know if I missed anything!

part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

The room is dark, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and something else—something almost metallic. Yunho sits on the edge of the bed, head tilted back, the dim glow of a cigarette between his fingers. His knuckles are bruised, his bottom lip split, but he doesn’t seem to care. He never does.

You shouldn’t be here. Not again. Not after everything.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he mutters, exhaling smoke, his voice lower than you remember. “Thought you finally got tired of me.”

Your stomach twists. Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. But when you saw him tonight, looking just as wrecked as the last time, something in you cracked.

How it started—late-night talks, teasing touches, the way he looked at you like you were his lifeline but refused to admit it.

The first time he asked you to hurt him. How you hesitated. How he begged.

The first time you wanted to. How you gave in.

The spiral—when the pain stopped feeling like control and started feeling like destruction.

The moment you walked away. Or tried to.

“You still like it rough?” you ask, voice quieter now, almost afraid of the answer.

Yunho turns his head toward you, eyes unreadable, lips curving into something that looks like a smirk but feels like something else. “Don’t act like you don’t already know the answer.”

His voice is hoarse, teasing, but there’s something underneath it—something desperate.

Something that makes you step closer instead of leaving.

You hesitate, standing at the edge of the bed, your pulse hammering in your chest. The silence stretches between you two like a chasm, full of unspoken words and lost time. You can feel his eyes on you, burning, like he’s waiting for you to do something—anything.

Your fingers itch to reach for him, but something holds you back. The distance between you is more than physical; it’s everything you tried to forget when you walked away from him. But here you are again, caught in his gravity, and you can’t seem to break free.

“Yunho,” you say, the name slipping from your lips like a plea. You hate how weak it sounds, how it betrays the hardness you tried to build. But he’s always had that power over you. “What happened to you?”

He chuckles, a low, guttural sound that makes your skin prickle. He looks at you with dark eyes, full of something you can’t quite place, but you don’t need to. You know what he needs. You know what you both need.

“You left,” he replies, his voice tight. “You thought walking away would fix things, but it didn’t. You think I’m broken, but you’re just as fucked up as I am.”

You want to deny it. You want to tell him that you’re not like him, that you didn’t walk away because you craved the destruction, because you wanted him to hurt you too. But you can’t. Because you did. You wanted to.

The air between you thickens, like it’s alive, alive with everything unsaid and everything you’re both trying to bury.

You stand there, frozen, watching him drag the cigarette to his lips, taking another long pull, the smoke drifting lazily in the stale air. His eyes meet yours, the challenge in them making your heart skip. He's waiting for you to speak, to make the first move, to admit you’re both too broken to walk away. But you can’t. You don’t have the words.

Yunho lets out a low laugh, one that’s so bitter it almost hurts. "Still don't know how to say it, huh?" He flicks the ash from his cigarette, his gaze turning sharper as he watches you, like he's savoring the way you're unraveling. "That’s what I like about you. You’re so goddamn complicated. But that’s why we’re here, right? 'Cause you can’t stay away from me either."

He takes another drag, eyes glued to yours. You don’t look away. You can’t.

“You know what I need, Y/N,” Yunho says, his voice dipping into something darker, something more raw. "You think I don’t know that? That I don’t know what you fucking crave when I look at you like this?"

Your throat tightens. Your body moves before you think, stepping closer to him, closing the gap that feels like miles even though it's only a few steps. His lips twitch into a smirk as you approach, like he knew you’d come, like he’s been waiting for you to break, just like him.

But you don’t stop. You can’t.

“You’re such a fucking mess,” you whisper, voice trembling even though you try to keep it steady. “I don’t know why I’m here. Why I came back. I should’ve just walked away. But you keep pulling me back into this.”

You take a slow step forward, your heartbeat drumming in your chest, unsure of whether you’re doing this to heal the burn between you or because you’re just as fucked up as he is.

Yunho watches you, the cigarette dangling from his fingers, the embers burning bright like the fire in his eyes. “Come here,” he mutters, voice thick with the weight of unspoken things. “You know you want to.”

A shiver runs down your spine, your fingers twitching at your sides. The air in the room is suffocating, heavy with the unspoken promise of what's about to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this—not after everything.

But you can’t stay away.

You step forward, the words "I shouldn’t" dying on your lips as you kneel in front of him. Yunho doesn’t move, but his eyes? They never leave yours. You can feel the weight of his gaze as if he's stripping you bare without even touching you.

He flicks the cigarette into the ashtray, his hands finally moving to your hair, pulling you toward him with a rough yank. "You think I forgot about you?" he growls, the words low and dangerous. "You think you could walk away from me without feeling this?"

You’re barely able to catch your breath before his lips crash into yours, hard, needy, like he's trying to prove something. His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, pushing his tongue past your lips as if claiming your mouth, your body, everything.

"Still taste like you," he mutters against your lips, almost in disbelief, but his words only make you ache. "Still fucking obsessed with me."

You break the kiss, gasping, your heart hammering in your chest. “You never stopped, Yunho. You’re still... broken.”

"Then fix me." His voice is low, pleading, but coated in the same dangerous arrogance you’ve always known. "Make me feel something, even if it’s pain."

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down to his lips, his jaw, the neck where the bruises from his self-inflicted wounds lie just beneath the skin. He’s fucked up. More than you ever realized. And for some fucked-up reason, it draws you in more.

"You know I’m not gonna stop until you’re begging for it," he warns, leaning in, his breath hot against your ear.

His hands move down your body, sliding under your clothes, a rough tug, pulling your top off. “Don’t fucking tease me,” he commands, almost growling. His hands go lower, tugging at your jeans, not bothering with the buttons, just ripping them open.

You gasp in shock, but the sensation of his hands on you, the way he touches you, is too much to ignore. “Yunho…” you whisper, almost warning him, but it only makes him smirk.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he growls, “Say my name. Beg for me, just like you always do.”

Before you can protest, he forces you down onto the bed, flipping you onto your back. The movement is sudden, his body pinning you with brutal force, his hands now gripping your wrists above your head. The cold metal of his rings presses against your skin as his face hovers above yours, that predatory glint in his eyes.

“Ride me,” Yunho commands, his voice hoarse, yet dripping with need. “If you want me, take me. But you better make it count.”

You don’t hesitate. You climb onto his lap, straddling him, your body shaking with anticipation and need. Your breath hitches as you feel him hard under you, and you can feel the dark hunger radiating from him.

He chuckles darkly, watching you, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers digging into your skin like he’s marking you, claiming you. "Come on, baby," he taunts, "Make me feel you. Show me how much you fucking need me."

You shudder, slowly sinking down onto him, feeling the stretch, the burn as he fills you completely. A soft moan escapes your lips, and Yunho lets out a low growl, thrusting up into you to meet your movements. The intensity of it has you gasping, but the pain is what draws you in—it's what you crave.

"God, you're so tight," Yunho growls, his eyes dark with lust, his hands moving up your body, cupping your breasts roughly, pinching your nipples through the fabric. "You love this, don't you? You love when I fuck you like this, don't you?"

The harshness of his words makes you shiver, and you answer him without hesitation. "Yes, Yunho. I love it. I love when you fuck me like this."

He pulls you down roughly, his lips capturing yours again, deep and savage, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, biting hard enough to leave a mark. "Say it again," he demands, "Say it while I fuck you. I want to hear you beg me."

You can’t hold back. You’re lost in him, lost in the way he moves, the way his body pushes you to the edge of something dark and dangerous.

"I love it," you whimper, your nails digging into his chest as you ride him harder. "I love when you fuck me. I need you, Yunho."

His grip tightens on your hips, and he starts to slam into you, each thrust harder, faster, making you lose control. You feel your body starting to tremble, your walls clenching around him as the pleasure builds up, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Come for me," he orders, voice raw with desire, "Come on, show me how much you need me."

You barely hold it in. The orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking violently as you come undone on him. Yunho doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, making sure you feel every bit of him, every inch of the pain and pleasure he craves.

He groans, his grip tightening around you, and then—finally—he comes, filling you with a raw intensity that has you reeling, your body twitching beneath him.

Breathing heavily, he pulls out slowly, his eyes never leaving you. "That’s it, baby. Don’t ever forget who owns you."

You can’t speak, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, but you know this isn’t over. It never is. You both always go back for more, addicted to the pain, addicted to each other.

The room feels different now. The air between you and Yunho is thick with the aftermath of what just happened, but that’s not enough for you. Not when you see the way he’s still burning with desire, the way his body’s still tense and waiting for more. You can feel it deep in your gut, that part of you that thrives on chaos, on control.

You shift slightly on the bed, running your fingers over the scar that marks his skin, a reminder of the darkness that he wears. The blood, the pain—it does something to you. Makes you crave it more. You know exactly what he wants, and it’s not love. It’s not softness. It’s pain. It’s violence.

“You wanna feel pain, huh?” you say, voice low and full of promise, watching his eyes flicker with that familiar hunger. “I’ll give you one.”

His eyes narrow as he looks at you, his hands still resting at his sides, waiting. Almost too eager. His breathing hitches, the anticipation building between you both, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of touching him just yet. No, not yet. You’re in charge now.

You straddle him, positioning yourself above his chest as your fingers trail over the edge of his shirt, pulling it off with slow precision. His eyes are on you the entire time, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in them now. He’s never been this vulnerable around you.

“Are you sure you want this?” You ask, your voice almost teasing, but the darkness behind your words is unmistakable. You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. “Because if you want to play, we’re playing my way now.”

Yunho’s hands grip the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white. He nods, barely holding back the need to speak. His voice is strained, almost desperate. “Yes, please.”

You smirk, running a finger over his jaw, pressing down hard enough to bruise. You know he likes it rough, but this time, you’re pushing the boundaries. You lean in even closer, your lips brushing his throat as you trace the path down, stopping just above the pulse point, where his heart beats wildly.

Without warning, you bite. Hard.

Yunho’s body jerks, and he lets out a strangled gasp, the sharp sting of pain mixing with the rush of pleasure. His blood is warm on your tongue, salty and thick, and it’s like a drug, addictive in the worst way.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his voice broken, barely a whisper. “More... Please, more.”

You pull back, tasting the blood on your lips, feeling the way your body aches to push him further, deeper into that darkness. You’re both addicted to the chaos now, to the way the pain feeds you, drives you both to the edge.

You grab his wrist, yanking his arm behind his back, pinning him down beneath you. His eyes widen in both shock and awe, his body twitching, but you can see the submission in him. He’s letting you take control, letting you drive him to that place where nothing else matters.

“Beg for it,” you demand, leaning down to kiss him roughly, tasting the blood on his lips. You feel him tremble beneath you, his whole body alive with desire, with need. “Beg for me to break you, Yunho.”

His voice cracks, but the desperation in it only makes you smile. “Please,” he whispers. “Do it. Hurt me. I need it.”

You don’t waste a second. You bring your knee up, pressing it into his ribs with just enough force to make him grunt in pain, his chest tightening. Then you’re back at his neck, biting down again, harder this time, feeling the blood spill into your mouth as he gasps in agony and pleasure.

His hands claw at the sheets beneath him, as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself grounded. But you can feel his body giving in, his breath coming faster with each thrust of pain you give him. It’s as if he’s surrendering, becoming lost in the need to feel something, anything that makes him forget who he really is.

“You like it, huh?” you murmur, tracing your fingers through the blood on his skin. You don’t care if you’ve gone too far, not when his eyes are practically begging you for more. “You like when I make you bleed for me.”

“Yes,” he moans, his voice a mixture of pain and pleasure, the sound making your pulse quicken. “Yes... Fuck, I need it. I need you.”

You smile, pushing your knee harder against his chest as you slide your hand down his body, past his waistband. You’re not gentle. Not this time. You tear him apart with each touch, each action, until he’s nothing more than a mess beneath you, gasping for air, bleeding for you.

You pull away, your lips covered in his blood, and you look down at him, watching the way he’s shivering, trembling from the pain and the need. The sight of him like this, broken and begging, makes you ache in ways you never thought you would.

“You’re mine, Yunho,” you whisper, your voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “You’ll always be mine. No matter how much you bleed for me.”

And as he looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with the raw need for more, you know—you’re both too deep now. This isn’t love. It’s something darker, something more dangerous. But you don’t care. Neither does he.

And you both know—you’ll never stop.

The moment it’s over, the room is heavy with the aftermath of everything. Yunho lies there, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, still processing everything that just happened between you both. You’re both drenched in sweat, your bodies marked by the intensity of the night. His blood stains your lips, your skin, but there’s no fear, no regret in his eyes. Just a twisted satisfaction.

You roll off him, pulling him gently by the arm, guiding him to sit up against the headboard. He’s barely able to hold himself up, his body still trembling with aftershocks of pain and pleasure, but he doesn’t fight you. His eyes are half-lidded, distant, but there’s a flicker of need still burning deep inside him. Something in him that hasn’t quite been sated.

You reach for the water on the nightstand, handing him the bottle with shaky hands, your fingers brushing against his. “Drink,” you order softly, your voice no longer the harsh, commanding tone it was before. You let the gentleness fill the space between you.

Yunho takes the bottle, his grip a little unsteady as he brings it to his lips, gulping down the water greedily. You watch him closely, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, before you gently take the bottle from him, setting it back down.

Without saying anything, you reach for a cloth beside the bed, wetting it under the cool water. You turn back to Yunho, your fingers lightly brushing against his cheek. The contrast of the cold water and your touch makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans into it, letting you gently wipe the blood off his neck, his chest, the mark where you bit him.

His eyes meet yours then, full of an emotion you don’t quite recognize, something soft, vulnerable. “You’re not going to leave, are you?” His voice is barely a whisper, but you can hear the insecurity hidden in the question, the crack in his usually confident demeanor.

You shake your head, setting the cloth aside, before gently brushing his hair back from his face, your fingers lingering against his scalp. “No, Yunho. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes close at the touch, the tension in his body slowly starting to melt away. His breath steadies, his hand moving to grasp yours, as if trying to pull you closer. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean for it to get so... intense.”

You smile softly, cupping his face in your hands, and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted it just as much as you did.”

Yunho exhales a shaky breath, his eyes opening to meet yours again, filled with something raw. Something real. You lean in, brushing your lips across his, a soft, slow kiss that’s filled with everything—gentleness, need, regret, but also something that holds the promise of more.

He pulls you closer then, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you might disappear. You let him, curling into him, your body fitting against his perfectly. It’s messy. It’s broken. But it’s also something you both need. Something that ties you together.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice trembling just a little. You nod, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest.

“I’m not leaving, Yunho,” you whisper back. “Not now. Not ever.”

He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You both lay there in the quiet, the aftermath of everything, just holding each other. The air is heavy with emotions neither of you can fully understand, but for now, it’s enough. The violence, the chaos, the blood—it all fades away in the softness of the moment.

And for once, you both let yourselves be vulnerable, not chasing the pain anymore, but simply finding solace in each other’s arms.

[aliwritex]

Hellooo!✨ can I ask you for more car quickie pleaaaasee with Franco?🤭

franco thoughts: fucking in the car again 18+ 1.7k

notes: but this time he’s kinda subby and reader is mean. warnings: whiny franco, ruined orgasm, oral (f rec) finger sucking, pretty doe eyes.

“So, what do you think?” he asked you after giving you a full tour of the apartment.

“It’s nice, I don’t love the colors but it’s really nice. Are you thinking of buying it?”

“I already did. Well, kinda, it’s not mine yet, still going through the process” he turned to face you “do you actually like it?”

“I do, think it’s nice you got a place here, important, since you like being with your family.”

“I thought so too”

You walked to the kitchen counter, leaning against it and he followed, wrapping his arms around your waist. His face was buried on your neck, lips kissing your exposed shoulder as his hands lowered to the back of your thighs.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he lifted you to sit on the counter.

Your hands grabbed his face, he looked up at you with big dumb doe eyes and turned to bite playfully at your hand. He shook his head to make your hands fall to his shoulders so he could nudge at your neck again. You smiled at the kisses, loving the way his hair was brushing against your face. His hands then made their way up your legs, under your dress, caressing your thighs till his thumbs were brushing your underwear.

“Uh-uh” you shook your head and pushed his hands away.

“What? Why?”

You watched him frown and took his face in your hands again, brushing his cheek, “didn’t you just say that the place is not yours yet?” he nodded, looking down but you lifted his chin, his eyes meeting yours again “and does that mean that someone else still owns keys?”

“But they’re not coming in here, why would they?”

“No, baby, let’s go home” you told him, slipping down from the counter.

“Please” he whined.

“I said no, Franco. Let’s go” your rougher tone shook the man, he didn’t mean to be rude, usually you would give in if he asked nicely.

You were already out the door when he finally came back to his senses so he followed out, meeting you by the elevator. You let him take your hand as you stepped in and he rested his head on your shoulder.

“‘M sorry” he mumbled, pressing his head against you.

“It’s fine”

You walked out of the building together, with your hands tied but Franco still felt bad. He didn’t say anything as you got in the car or as he started driving but you caught up to his strange behavior.

“Fran,” you reached out to take his hand in yours, taking to your mouth to kiss it, “it’s fine. I didn’t mean to sound rude.”

“You called me by my name”

“I’m sorry, baby.” you told him playing with his hand on your lap, “I just didn’t want to do anything, there” your tone changed as you said the last word.

“There?” you nodded “So, home?”

“I don’t know, we have to be pretty quiet there, don’t we?” you teased, placing his hand on your upper thigh.

“Want me to find somewhere to park?”

“Aren’t you smart?”

Franco thought for a second to remember somewhere safe to park. He went through a few sketchy streets before parking.

“Same as last time? Aren’t you afraid someone will catch up?” you asked as you undid your seatbelt.

“No one comes here, I swear” he explained almost desperately.

You chuckled at him and climbed into the back seat, making sure that your ass would be right on his face as you did.

“Are you gonna show me how sorry you are?”

Franco nodded eagerly, jumping into the backseat with you, a little less gracefully. You moved till your back was resting against the door to make space for him. Your hand reached for his face, making him look at you, your eyes examined his faces for a second, his big eyes, pretty curls and parted lips – you couldn’t help but push your thumb past them.

He sucked on it, looking into your eyes till you pulled away to kiss him. He was basically laying on top of you as you kissed, hands digging into your sides to hold himself up.

You let your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as you made out, tongues and lips lazily brushing and pressing against each other’s. He took his hand under your dress, finger hooking on the side of your underwear and playing with it.

“Can I take this off? Please?”

You nodded slowly and watched him kneel on the seat to drag your underwear down your legs. He tried his best to get comfortable between your legs but it was impossible, he didn’t mind though – he had your legs around his head, he would be fine.

You pulled him by the hair, your nails scratching his scalp as your fingers tangled in the curls. You kissed him again and he moaned into your mouth when you tugged on his locks. You took a good look at him, he looked angelic, eager to please, almost innocent and so fucking hot.

“Make me feel good, yeah? Need you to touch me” you whispered.

Franco pushed your dress up, out of his way before wrapping his arms under your legs, pulling you closer to his face. He started kissing your thighs, the sides leading up to your middle, his hair tickling your skin. You never looked away from him as he started to pleasure you, licking along your folds before kissing your hole and your clit.

You smiled when he started working on you, tongue and lips exploring your cunt. His fingers joined, dancing around your folds before pressing against your hole. You moaned at the penetration, feeling his fingers work their way into you. Your hand dropped to his head, grabbing his hair again, it made him look at you. His eyes weren’t as wide now,they were dark, lids heavy like he was drunk on you.

“So fucking pretty” you whispered

He curled his fingers up as you looked at him, waiting to watch your reaction. It made you clench around them, and tug on his hair harshly to make him regret teasing you but it only turned him on more. He moaned into you, sending vibrations to your skin.

You pushed your hips forward, making him work harder, lips sucking on your clit while his fingers curled up at a fast pace. Moans were leaving your mouth nonstop, the windows already fogging up around you.

Franco knew you were close, he always did, your legs would shake, your core tense up and your hands would always search for something to grab, usually his hair. You were tugging on it like you were trying to pull it all out and it made his cock twitch in his shorts.

He couldn’t help but moan too when you came, your cunt gripping his fingers so hard and your legs closing around his head as he looked up to watch your chest move up and down from your heavy breathing.

He only knelt back up after making sure you were down from your high. You watched him wait for instructions, knowing you were in a mood to boss him around, so you took his wet fingers and guided them to his own mouth.

“Come on, clean them up” you said and watched him sigh.

You made him brush the fingers on his pretty pouty lips before pushing past them. He gave you a peak of how his tongue danced around the fingers before he closed his lips and it drove you insane. He made a show out of it too, moaning and moving his head around his own fingers, teasing till you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sit down”

Franco didn’t hesitate for a second, moving from between your legs to sit properly. He watched you sit up too, still sucking his fingers as you unbuttoned his shorts. Your mouth was salivating when you pulled him out of his boxers, but you only teased his tip with a kiss, you knew he wouldn’t last long.

You moved to straddle him, moving your hips back and forth against his tip before sinking down on it. He took both of his hands down to your ass but you quickly stopped him, taking them in yours.

“Keep sucking them” you told him, guiding his fingers back into his mouth. You both hummed when he took them.

You didn’t want any help to move on him, you wanted to send him over the edge quickly, embarrassingly so, humiliate him a bit, show him just how good you could fuck him.

So you went hard. You were bouncing on him, your cunt swallowing him smoothly with every movement. All he wanted to do was grab your tits or have them in his mouth, but you held his hands, one to his mouth and the other down on your thigh.

“Mi amor, porfa” he whined around his own fingers before you pulled them out of his mouth, pressing both of his hands down to the seat, next to his shoulders.

“What is it, Franco?”

“Slow down, please” his voice would only come out in whines, “gonna cum too soon”

“Let it go, yeah, tell me when you’re close” you whispered to his neck, feeling him nod against your head.

It was about a minute before he whined again, telling you he was about to cum. You smiled, before taking his lips in yours, biting the bottom one as you lifted up your hips, letting him slip out of you.

“No, no, no, no” he whined, bucking his hips up as he came, shooting ropes of cum on his shirt. “Fuck!”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile as you watched him pathetically ruin his clothes. You finally let go of his hands, letting them fall to his sides. Your own took different routes, one reaching up to caress his cheek and the other down to his cock.

“So, so beautiful. You’re perfect” you said softly as your hand gripped his softening cock, slowly running up and down. Your hand made him groan, the stimulation being too much for him, but too good to stop you. “but pathetic, look at the mess you made” he couldn’t even open his eyes “let’s get cleaned up, we have to get back home”

Franco nodded “think I have a spare shirt in the trunk” he said, out of breath.

“Smart” you helped him out of the stained shirt and shoved your panties into the back pocket of his shorts. “You go get it, I think I better drive back, huh?”

He nodded, throwing his head back and you kissed him “I love you”

“I love you too, but you’re mean”

[emphasisonthehomo]

More Popstar!Au

For context, this takes place right before the first actual concert Buck and Tommy perform together.

Here's Buck in peak drama queen mode.

•

“Tommy Kinard, is that you?”

As Buck turns, a rail thin man with a long beard starts waving his arms like a windmill.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy grumbles under his breath, before saying louder “Artem! Good to see you man, I didn’t know you worked here now.”

Artem comes jogging over, dressed all in black with STAFF in bold letters across his chest.

“Yeah, for a couple years,” Artem says, holding Tommy by his shoulders and shaking him a bit, “Damn dude, tech death doesn’t pay shit if you’re doing this too.”

Buck bristles, and Tommy starts laughing awkwardly.

“I’m here as a favor,” Tommy says, “Last minute thing.”

“Oh really? Cool. Doing sound again? You’re late as fuck if that’s the case,” Artem speaks a mile a minute, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Buck and Eddie are both staring at him.

“No. I’m drumming,” Tommy says, easy as anything.

“For Buckley?” Artem looks cartoonishly shocked.

Honestly? Buck can relate to that. Part of him still can’t believe it. 

“Uh…” Tommy’s eyes are very wide, and they look shockingly blue under the florescent lighting as he glances at Buck. Buck just raises his eyebrows in return. Eddie looks like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or not.

“As I Lay Dying always needs a new drummer, you don’t have to resort to that,” Artem continues, before laughing hysterically.

“I would genuinely rather choke,” Tommy says, “I gotta go dude. See you around.”

“Cool man,” Artem pats him on the shoulder, “Bye!”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Artem is jogging off in another direction.

“Sorry about that,” Tommy mumbles, “He’s uh. He’s nice enough, but he’s… a lot.”

“Can he not see?" Eddie sounds bewildered.

“He used to do a lot of mushrooms,” Tommy explains, before speaking to Buck directly “Also I don’t think he knows what you look like.”

“My face is on a 50-foot screen in front of the building,” Buck feels obligated to point out.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says defensively, “I once saw Artem eat a live grasshopper for a McDouble, and that was back when those were only like a dollar. He’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.”

“What does he do?” Buck asks, anxiety starting to claw at him, “It’s not stage effects or anything right?”

“Oh no,” Tommy shakes his head immediately, “I don’t know what he does here, but when I’ve worked with him, he’s always done merch.”

“It’ll be fine,” Eddie says confidently, “I don’t think MSG hires people that can ruin shows.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Buck says bluntly.

“C’mon,” Eddie rolls his eyes and grabs at Buck’s hand and starts dragging him further down the hallway, “You need to chill out.”

“I’m going to. Throw. Up.” Buck repeats, but he lets Eddie pull him into the greenroom.

“For real?” Eddie asks, pushing the door open “Or are you being dramatic?”

“I’ll let you know if it’s ever for real,” Buck says sourly, throwing himself onto one of the couches.

Unmoved by Buck’s distress, Eddie just grabs the trashcan in the corner and places it delicately next to Buck’s knee. Buck scowls at him. It’s frustrating, but more than that it’s stupid. Buck knows he’s being difficult, but that doesn’t stop him from doing so.

“I’m going to go grab food,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips, “Hey? Tommy?”

“Yeah?” Tommy says, wandering into the greenroom behind them.

“Can you make sure Buck doesn’t leave this room?” Eddie says, placing a hand seriously on the top of Tommy’s shoulder.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Tommy says, looking amused, “He’s a grown man.”

“Put him in a headlock if you have to,” Eddie continues, “He’s ticklish.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Buck bristles.

“Ticklish,” Tommy repeats with a sharp nod, “Got it. And what happens when he fires me?”

“He can’t fire you,” Eddie snorts, “Bobby signs your checks.”

“I sign Bobby’s checks,” Buck says mulishly, crossing his arms and sinking low against the couch cushions, “I’m going to fire you.”

“No, you won’t,” Eddie says easily, before turning to Tommy, “You want anything?”

“I’m good,” Tommy says with a shrug, sitting down on the couch opposite Buck, “I’ll get something later. I gotta go find out where my practice pad is.”

“I’ll ask Bobby if I see him,” Eddie says, already halfway out the door.

“I wanna beer!” Buck calls after him.

Eddie flips him off without looking back, and vanishes down the hallway.

“It’s a bit early for a beer,” Tommy says mildly.

Buck doesn’t bother dignifying that with a response. He makes a point of laying down on the couch and turning his back to Tommy.

“Okay,” Tommy mumbles under his breath, “You’re the boss, you sign Bobby’s checks, you can have a beer at noon.”

Buck doesn’t respond to that either. He’s so tired his eyes hurt. He feels sick to his stomach, and the show is still hours away. He forces himself to breathe slowly and tries to relax against the cushions. There’s movement behind him. Tommy says thank you to someone, and a few minutes later the muted and rhythmic clatter of drum sticks on a practice pad starts up.

It’s a sound Buck’s used to. Lucy uses one as well, though she prefers to limit her warmup to right before going on stage. Tommy isn’t Lucy, a fact that Buck is well aware of, and honestly still irritated by. The noise is comforting in its familiarity all the same.

-tatatata-tatata-tatatata-tata-

He’s a little cold, he should have thought to grab a jacket.

-tatatata-tatata-tatatata-tata-

Buck shifts on the couch and closes his eyes.

-tatatata-tatata-tat-

Buck wakes with a jerk. His face is mashed against the arm of the couch, and there’s a wet smear on his cheek that lets him know he’s been drooling. Gross.

“Wassit?” He grumbles, sitting up and rubbing at his face. A thick black piece of clothing flops down off of his shoulders, and he blinks down at it in confusion.

“Oh, sorry I woke you.”

Buck twists around to see Chimney gingerly closing the door behind him.

“‘m good,” Buck says, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He picks up the clothing, turning the fabric over in his hands, and realizes it’s a hoodie. Tommy’s hoodie. It’s soft and well worn, the white screen printing of Tommy's band's insane logo cracked in some places.

Tommy, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen.

[aspiringcorvidae]

new life goal: gain power and influence in the field of entertainment and finally make a series of media with canon johnlock