#one reason he would experiment on you would be to see if he could get a man pregnant

[quitefawnish]

just thinking about reader having an nsft tumblr acct and tf 141 being obsessed with it..

cw: sexual content, slight voyeurism?

soap is the first one to stumble on your tumblr account. he originally got tumblr because he wanted inspiration for meal planning and thought about making his own fitness blog.

of course, he eventually went down the rabbit hole of hornyposting and after a few weeks, he discovered you.

you had started this blog to feel better about yourself, or at least that’s what you told yourself, maybe you just liked the attention. either way, you started off slow, posting in a sheer shirt or just a bra but not wanting to show off too much.

it only took a bit of prodding and pleading from your followers to get you to post your whole body. that’s where johnny first saw you, in a post where you did a full body reveal (sans face for obvious reasons). it had a few thousand notes and was the top picture for some of the tags you used.

soap practically felt his eyes bulge out of his skull at the sight of you, this perfect lass posting pics like that for free??? he was quick to follow you and then look at the rest of your posts, spamming you with likes as he went through your entire blog.

he contemplated keeping you to himself but knew the others would appreciate you just as much as he did, so he saved the original post he saw of you and sent it in the group chat. their messages were immediate, something to the effect of “holy fuck.”

that’s where the obsession with you started, and soap acted as their drug dealer, sharing in the group chat when you posted a new photo. of course, the other three knew that they could coax your username from johnny and they could make their own tumblr account to follow you but they found it more exciting getting your pics this way. one thing he did share with them was your throne wishlist which was full of lingerie and cute clothes you might want.

you had posted in sets you had gotten from other followers and the guys were interested in how they could buy you things too. your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline as you checked your phone and saw that your entire wishlist had been bought out. even the stuff that you put on there as a faraway desire, like the pair of mary jane’s you had been eyeing or the marker set that was too expensive to justify buying with your own money.

you always tried to thank people who bought from your throne personally, dming them on tumblr and sending exclusive pics in the things they bought for you. problem was, it was all under anonymous accounts and you didn’t get any messages owning up to the shopping spree. you decided to make a post asking who just bought you all that stuff and that you’d like to thank them.

soap was quick to message you, claiming responsibility for the gifts bought. you both get to talking and he mentions how he shares your pics with his mates, and how they get so excited when he sends a new picture of you. you respond back how you’re honestly so flattered, and you’d like to talk to them as well and thank them for their contribution to your wishlist.

eventually, you find some app or website that you can use to chat with them while not giving out any personal information. of course, when the things they ordered come in the mail, you make sure to send them plenty of videos and pictures.

they are hooked.

now it’s almost like you have four sugar daddies, paying for your bikini waxes (if you want them, they don’t mind hair down there yk), sending you money for groceries, for getting your nails done, or just because. sometimes, they even compete between the four of them to see who can make you the happiest (determined by the amount of exclamation marks you use when thanking them).

a/n: this is so self indulgent and kind of based on some of my experiences when i had an nsft blog on tumblr lolll 🙈 anyway, this is kinda unedited and rambling but would any of you guys want me to write more w this concept?

[cl0udy3]

Lemme get a Viktor X reader. Probably femme reader. Reader is a lab assistant there and works closely with Viktor and Jayce, but as reader starts getting closer with Jayce until Viktor gets a little jealous and then…

You decide.

I’m mostly looking for jealous Viktor, arguemdnt that leads into a bit of jealous smut if you’re down to do that. If you do that, lots of Viktor marking then. I’d like if he could be on bottom bc of his leg and all, but I’d still like him to top.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍

viktor x fem!reader angst, then nsfw LIKE HEAVY SMUT, then fluff A LITTLE BIT OF EVERYTHING WE DONT DISCRIMINATE (since theres smut, cw: improper use of lab equipment, teasing, denying release, p in v, cunnilingus or something like that idk what to put here)

wc: 5105 a/n: GLORIOUS OVULATION (p.s. this is my first time doing in depth smut AND publishing it so if it sucks mb :'D)

You were always in the background, by Viktor’s side—through every breakthrough and every failure, through sleepless nights spent poring over blueprints and theories. You knew him better than anyone.

Or at least, you thought you did.

Lately, that role—your place—felt like it was being rewritten.

Jayce had always been there, but recently, something was different. They were different.

You notice it in the way Viktor leans in when Jayce talks, in the quick, secret smiles they exchange over the workbench, in the way Jayce claps a hand on his shoulder, his touch lingering just a second too long. And Viktor… he never pushes him away.

Then there are the late nights—the ones that used to be yours.

“Viktor, do you want to run a few more tests before—”

“Not tonight,” he interrupts, barely glancing up. “Jayce and I are reviewing schematics for the new Hexcore modification. We need to fine-tune the energy output.”

It’s the third night in a row that you’ve been dismissed in favor of Jayce.

You tell yourself you don’t care.

You tell yourself it’s not personal.

But when you see Viktor actually laugh at something Jayce says, something sharp and ugly coils in your stomach.

When was the last time he laughed like that with you? When was the last time you were the reason his eyes lit up?

“You alright?” A voice snaps you out of your sour thoughts—one of the other assistants, blinking at you with mild concern.

You force a smile, gripping your pen so tightly your knuckles ache. “Fine.”

Liar.

You cast another glance toward the two of them, watching as Jayce nudges Viktor playfully, their heads dipping closer together over the blueprints.

That’s when you realize—this burning in your chest?

You’re jealous. And it’s only getting worse.

But being you, you tell yourself it isn’t that. It can’t be. Even if it were… why should you feel this way?

Viktor isn’t your partner. He isn’t yours. And yet, at the same time, he is.

The contradiction eats at you.

For days, you try to push it down, telling yourself it shouldn’t matter—that it’s ridiculous. But the thought lingers, festering in the back of your mind like a parasite, gnawing away at your sanity.

The jealousy—the rage—bubbles hotter each time you see them together: the way Viktor leans into Jayce’s space, the way they whisper over shared ideas as if you’re not even there. Maybe you’re just an assistant, but you’re his assistant—one of his best.

And yet, somehow, Jayce has his attention in a way you never have.

“Viktor, would you like me to stay and run some tests with you tonight…?”

You ask softly, almost shyly, your heart gently hammering against your ribs.

Viktor glances at you, then smiles—small, absentminded, but genuine. “I could use the help.”

You nod your head and leave the lab to drop off some blueprints in his office, but with a little extra pep in your step.

But when evening comes, as you enter the lab, Viktor doesn't even bother to look your way.

Viktor is still in the lab, laughing, joking, effortlessly engaged in some experiment with Jayce. Like he forgot about you entirely.

Your stomach twists, something sour rising in your throat. Your fingers tighten around the files in your hand until it slips from your grasp, falling to the floor with the papers flitting around you.

Neither of them notices.

You cross your arms and force a composed expression as you walk in, feigning a casual visit.

“Ah, Y/N!” Viktor looks up, offering you that same easy smile. “Welcome.”

You hum quietly, tilting your head. “Oh, so I’m still relevant to you?”

Viktor’s smile falters. He blinks, his brows drawing together. “What?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, gripping the loose papers in your hand a little too tightly. “Forget it.”

You try to walk away, but he follows after you. His voice is calm but sharp.

“Are you okay?”

You laugh dryly, shaking your head. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine,” you reply sardonically.

Viktor narrows his eyes, tilting his head. “Lying does not suit you, Y/N.”

His words strike a nerve, and you shoot back, “Oh, but ignoring me suits you just fine, right?”

“Ignoring you?” Viktor retorts with a frown, clearly confused. “I have done no such thing.”

“NO?” You scoff. “Tell me, Viktor—when was the last time we actually worked together? When was the last time you actually needed me for anything?”

“You are being ridiculous,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is about Jayce, is it not?”

That’s the last straw. You snap.

“Yes, Viktor, this is about Jayce!”

“I don’t understand—”

“Of course you don’t!” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You’re too damn smart for your own good, but you’re completely blind when it comes to this! To me!”

As the two of you argue, Jayce remains completely oblivious, nose-deep in his work. He doesn’t even register the tension in the air.

“I have been here since the beginning, Viktor. Every long night. Every experiment. Every single time you pushed yourself too hard—I was there. Not Jayce. Me.”

“I never said you weren’t—” Viktor begins, but you cut him off.

“But suddenly, he waltzes in, and now you don’t even need me anymore. Now, I’m just—just some humble assistant!”

Viktor stares at you, taken aback for a few moments.

“You are jealous,” he finally murmurs.

“No shit, genius.”

Viktor stays silent for a few seconds, processing the words. For the first time, he truly sees it—the fire in your eyes, the way your hands are clenched into fists, how your breathing is too fast, your body too tense. The realization shifts something between you.

A long, charged silence falls.

You’re angry. Viktor is processing. But the air is different now.

Viktor’s gaze flickers over you—not just with irritation, but something darker. You feel your pulse quickening.

“Jayce and I are colleagues.” Viktor says, breaking the silence.

“Prove it,” you retort.

A single step, and suddenly he’s too close. You reach up and cup his collar, drawing him in. He lets you, his breathing heavier as his gaze dips between your lips and your eyes.

Jayce finally notices something is up but remains oblivious to the situation.

“Uh, hey, you guys okay? You’re kinda—”

You don’t even turn to look at him; you point sharply toward the door.

“Get out, Jayce.”

Jayce blinks. “What? But I still—”

“Out.” You mutter, your tone final.

Viktor says nothing, just watches as Jayce hesitates, clearly wanting to stay and finish his work. But your look leaves no room for argument. Your free hand reaches for a nearby tool mug, and you quickly dump its contents before tossing it in Jayce’s direction—missing his head on purpose.

Finally, Jayce throws his hands up with an exasperated sigh. “Alright! Alright… sheesh, I’m going.” He gathers his things and leaves, grumbling under his breath.

The moment the door shuts, your head snaps back to Viktor, a vicious desire burning in your eyes. You let go of his collar and watch as he leans onto his cane again.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches you, his gaze flickering with something unreadable.

You shove a single finger against his chest, forcing him back. He hobbles, barely catching himself before his cane slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor. He lands hard against the workbench, breath hitching, bracing himself with a palm against the metal surface.

And then you’re on him.

You cage him in, hands braced on either side of him, your body looming close, too close. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t push you away. Just waits, breath measured but uneven, something coiled tight in his chest.

You smile, slow and wicked, tilting your head as you lean in until your lips hover just shy of his.

“No one else but us now.” Your voice is syrupy sweet.

His brows draw together, and he opens his mouth to speak, but he hesitates.

“Nothing to say?” Your fingers drift, slow and deliberate, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His breath hitches—barely—but you catch it. You see the way his grip tightens against the edge of the table, how his fingers twitch, aching to touch you back but resisting.

Perfect.

You let your hand wander lower, teasing down the column of his throat, feeling the pounding heartbeat beneath your palm before trailing further—down his chest, to his ribs, to the firm plane of his stomach beneath his vest.

“You work too much,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear, delighting in the way he tenses beneath you. “Maybe I should make you take a break.”

Viktor’s jaw tightens. His voice is low, strained. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet,” you hum, rolling your hips just barely against his, feeling the faintest shudder run through him, “you let me do this.”

His fingers dig into the table, breath stalling for half a second before he recovers.

“You think you own me, do you?” His voice is rougher now, but there’s no heat behind the words—only hunger, barely restrained.

“Maybe I do.” Your smirk grows, tilting his chin up with two fingers. “And I think you like it.”

Your hands wander, reaching back until you too, can no longer take it. 

The moment your lips crash on his, it’s ravenous. Teeth clashing, tongues desperate, like neither of you can get enough. Like days–weeks–of tension are finally snapping at the seams.

Viktor grabs you, fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform, pulling you closer until there's nothing between you. His breath is ragged, sharp gasps swallowed by your kiss as your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling, taking, claiming. 

The workbench trembles beneath him.

You lift his frail body and press him down on the table. Papers slide, tools shift, small bits of scrap metal and instruments rattle against the surface as you knock aside anything that isn’t Viktor. 

In the background, a small device rolls off the edge, clattering against the floor. 

At first, you don’t notice. You're too lost in him, in the way his fingers claw at your back, the way his body shudders beneath your touch. Until a faint hum fills the space and you pause.

Viktor’s lips are kiss-bruised, his pupils blown wide, his breath uneven as he chases your mouth again, but you pull back, something catching your attention.

You glance down, spotting something small and metallic on the floor–trembling slightly with a gentle vibration.

Your eyes flick back up to Viktor.

“What's that?”

He blinks, still hazed, still drunk on your touch, until he follows your gaze. His brows furrow, and then his expression shifts–just barely–but you see it. The flicker of realization, followed by something tense, tight like he doesn’t want to answer.

You grin. 

“Oh?” You slide off his lap, bending down to retrieve the object, letting your fingers trace over the sleek metal as the vibration hums through your palm, “Interesting.”

Viktor shifts on the table, watching you like a hawk. “That–” He clears his throat, voice rough. “That is a calibration device.”

You raise an eyebrow, turning it over in your hands. “And what exactly does it calibrate?”

“Precision tuning for fine mechanisms,” he says, a little too quickly, “It–it vibrates to detect inconsistencies in structure–”

You hum thoughtfully, dragging it across your own palm.

You drag it along your wrist, watching Viktor’s throat bob as he swallows hard. “It’s not that strong,” you muse, letting it glide up to your collarbone. “Barely noticeable… until you put it somewhere more sensitive.”

Viktor swallows hard.

His fingers twitch at his sides, curling and uncurling, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the table. He’s trying—desperately—to stay still.

But the moment the device glides lower, a sharp inhale hitches in his throat. His thigh jerks involuntarily, his body betraying him before he can stop it.

"Sensitive?" You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you watch the way his thighs clench involuntarily..

He swallows, blinking hard, his hands tightening into fists. "This is…" His voice is strained, his accent heavier than usual. “An unfair advantage.”

A low purr escapes your lips as you lean in, pressing the buzzing device gently against his knee. Slowly, you trace its path up the soft inside of his thigh. His muscles twitch, his hips shift just a fraction, and his fingers curl against the rough surface of the workbench until they tremble with unspoken desire.

A strangled sound escapes him. You tilt your head, lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. “Use your words.”

His jaw clenches, and his pride wrestles with his desperation. His resolve crumbles as he manages, barely, “Please.”

That single word fuels you. Your lips curve into a mischievous smile as you climb back onto the table, straddling his lap. You straddle his lap, your free hand sliding up his thigh as he shudders beneath your touch. 

Before anything, you put the device down beside him and remove his belt, removing it with ease. You reach over him and pin his arms behind him, binding his arms together with the same belt.

You sit back down and grab the gadget again, continuing your playful antics.

You let the buzzing device trace a slow, tantalizing path along his chest, never venturing too low—just enough to tease, to torment. Viktor groans, his grip on the work table tightening so that his knuckles turn white. His words, though barely audible, send a thrill coursing through you.

“Y/N…” he begins, his voice thick with a plea you’ve heard before, but you cut him off with a playful, mocking tone. “Use your words,” you repeat, swirling the device deliberately along his clothed erection.

His pride, now a fragile barrier, shatters with a whispered, “Please..”

A quiet giggle escapes you—soft and triumphant. “I don’t think you mean that,” you tease, your fingers brushing the edge of his growing hardness. Viktor’s eyes dart to your hands, hungry and pleading, but something deep inside him tells him to wait.

The vibration pulses through him, his hips jerking uncontrollably, trying so hard to stay still. His hands clench into fists, nails digging into his palms as his breath hitches sharply.

“Y/N—” his voice cracks, a tremor running through him. “Please—”

You smile as you lean forward, your free hand pulling his head toward you. Your smile stays as you press your lips to his, and he simply melts at the feeling.

But then, just as he starts to chase the pleasure, you pull the device away.

Viktor whines. Actually whines.

You laugh softly, tilting your head. “So eager. Where’s that sharp tongue of yours now?”

His head falls back against the workbench, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps. He swallows hard, lips parted, trembling.

“Patience,” you coo, dragging your fingers down his exposed throat, feeling the way his pulse flutters beneath your touch. “Or do you need a little more time to learn?”

A frustrated noise rumbles from deep in his chest, but he nods, jaw clenched. You hum in satisfaction.

“Good boy.”

His body jolts at the praise, his fingers twitching where they remain bound behind him. You pretend not to notice the way his hips lift slightly, chasing contact he knows you won’t give. Not yet.

For what feels like an eternity, you toy with him—pressing feather-light kisses along his jaw, his throat, trailing down, down, down, only to pull away each time he shudders in anticipation. Every time he thinks you’ll finally give in, you pause, hovering just above where he needs you most, letting your breath ghost over his heated skin.

He shudders violently, his body betraying him with each twitch, each involuntary jerk of his hips.

“Y/N—” His voice is wrecked, thick with something dangerously close to desperation. “I can’t—”

“You can,” you correct smoothly, running the tip of the vibrating device up his inner thigh, watching how his muscles clench. “I think you like this more than you’re willing to admit.”

His head shakes furiously, a strangled moan escaping him as you drag the device lower. But you stop again, just before it reaches where he wants it most.

A broken whimper leaves him.

“Beg properly,” you whisper, lips brushing against his ear. “Say it exactly how you mean it.”

His pride wars with his needs. He’s trembling, barely holding on, and you can see it—the moment he cracks. His jaw clenches, his breath stuttering, his body rigid beneath you as he forces the words out, hoarse and unrestrained.

“Please,” he gasps, raw, unguarded. “Please, I need—”

You reward him immediately, pressing the buzzing device directly against him.

Viktor chokes on a moan so desperate, so utterly broken, that your smirk falters. For a moment, you just watch him unravel, watch the way his fingers flex uselessly behind him, the way his head tips back, his mouth falling open on a silent cry.

And then, just when he’s right there—

You pull away again.

His entire body jolts, his breath punching out in a choked sob.

“No—” His voice is barely there, shaking, pleading. “Y/N, please—”

Your heart pounds at the sight of him—completely undone, completely at your mercy.

For thirty straight minutes you continued this: letting him chase his release until he was right on the edge, you’d deny his release, he’d whine and whimper and groan and make every sound you could think of, his hips bucking up for more friction until he finally broke. 

Viktor’s breath is ragged, shallow, his body trembling violently beneath you. His fingers flex uselessly against the table, his nails dragging over the surface as if searching for something to ground him.

He still tries to hold on—tries to resist—but the control is slipping fast. His hips jerk instinctively, chasing nothing, and a sharp, frustrated noise tears from his throat.

You grin. “Just say it, Viktor.”

He clenches his jaw, fighting, always fighting. Even now, when he’s this wrecked, he still refuses to just—

You pull the device away.

A choked, desperate sound escapes him, his whole body jerking in protest. His head falls back, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps. He swallows hard, his lips parted, trembling.

"Y/N—" His voice breaks.

"Please—please, I need—"

“I– I need you, please..” he gasps, his voice shaking. 

Success!

You hum in satisfaction, caressing his sweat-slicked face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Viktor whispers quiet thank yous and murmurs his gratitude as you begin to remove your own clothes, haphazardly throwing each piece around the lab.

On the contrary, you carefully remove his uniform save for the dress shirt, and fold each piece neatly for him, leaving it off to the side on another table.

He sighs shakily as you climb on top of him again, removing the belt that restrained his hands. Viktor rubs his sore wrist but as soon as he’s done, his fingers finally move—gripping your waist, holding you to him as if he's afraid you'll pull away again. The way he trembles beneath you, the heat pooling in his gaze, the way his breathing stutters when you press a kiss against his throat—it’s intoxicating.

You trail your lips down his jaw, past the dip of his collarbone, feeling the way his muscles tense under your touch. You take your time, savoring every second, every quiet gasp that leaves his lips, until finally, finally, you undo the last barrier between you.

The moment you give him what he’s been begging for, Viktor completely unravels.

You pull the waistband of his boxers down painfully slowly, but Viktor doesn’t complain because he knows he’s about to get what he’s been wanting this whole time. You.

He breathes a deep inhale as you gently grip the base of his dick, pushing his only other undergarment down his legs.

You stroke his cock a few times, earning quiet whimpers and moans as you do, the pre cum leaking from the head.

“Y/N–” His voice breaks, his hands shaking as they clutch at you, as if even now he can’t quite believe you’re finally giving him what he needs.

You hush him with your finger and smile as you raise your hips above his, raising the tip of his dick to just kiss the entrance of your cunt.

You let the tip of his cock slide in and out, his tight grip sliding from your hips to your thighs as he groaned from the feeling of your two bodies almost colliding.

And finally, in one swift motion, you gently let your hips fall and your cunt consumes his dick like the perfect sleeve, the sensation immediate to him–hot, wet, and tight.

His head tips back, mouth falling open on a ragged moan, his grip on you tightening. The sound that escapes him—wrecked, desperate, utterly grateful—is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You groan quietly, your arms trembling as you wrap him in a tight embrace. Viktor’s hands snake up and down your back, his nails digging into your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hips rut against yours as you begin to bounce up and down, your hips softly hitting his so as not to further maim his leg.

Viktor rests his forehead on your shoulder, inhaling your scent like it was oxygen, as he panted and groaned, each sound a symphony to your ears.

“Does this..” You moan quietly, feeling his cock throbbing in your tight hole. “Do you… fuck– feel good..?”

He can’t even form a full sentence. He can’t even begin to describe how good you felt–at least not right now when the two of you were fucking so carnivorously.

He nods his head, growing more and more intoxicated with the feeling, the scent of you.

Viktor partakes in the meal in front of him, hands clamped onto your back as he begins to suck and lick certain spots on your neck, almost like he was taking in new data in an experiment. His mouth explored every crevice on your collarbone, each dip and vein on your neck.

So many long minutes passed of the two of you fornicating together, your body gently slamming onto his as you rode his dick in slow, long strokes. Moans and groans and whimpers and whines–any sound you could think of was heard, echoed in the lab. 

Viktor shudders violently, his body arching beneath you, his grip on your hips turning bruising as he finally, finally lets go. A wrecked, shattered moan escapes his lips as warmth spills inside you, his entire body trembling beneath yours.

"Gods, Y/N—" he chokes out, voice hoarse, shaking. "I can’t— it’s too—"

And finally as if on cue you felt your thighs clench, a small smile peeking on your lips as your walls clenched around his dick as you released a small amount of fluid from your own cunt.

The two of you sit for a moment, panting to catch your breath as you each come down from the high of your release. Viktor whispers sweet apologies and quiet gratitude against your skin. You run your hands through his hair, gently feeling the locks.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, you pull his cock out and it falls limp against your stomach. You moan and chuckle quietly at the shy look on his face.

The lab is quiet now, the only sounds are your uneven breaths and the faint hum of cooling metal beneath you. The heat of the moment lingers between you both, heavy and sated. 

Viktor is flat on the table, spent, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist like he doesn’t quite have the energy to let you go just yet. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, still recovering from everything you just put him through. 

Your body hums with exhaustion, limbs weak, nerves still tingling. You're warm, content, completely satisfied. 

Or so you think. 

As soon as you try to sit up, Viktor stops you.

His hands tighten around your waist, fingers flexing against your overheated skin. He’s still catching his breath, still trembling from how completely you ruined him. But even now, even after everything, there’s a look in his eyes that tells you he isn’t finished.

You laugh breathlessly, dragging your fingers through his messy, dampy hair. “Viktor–”

“You cannot walk home like this.”

His voice is soft, laced with something else. Something fond. Something grateful.

You blink. “I’ll be fine–”

Viktor tilts his head slightly, eyes dropping to where your thighs are still slick, messy, evidence of what you’ve done together clinging to your skin.

“That will not do,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I should fix it.”

Your stomach tights, a fresh spark of heat curling through you. “Viktor, I–”

But before you can argue, he slides you off and presses your back against the workbench, legs parted, Viktor kneeling between them with your spare clothes as support for his leg.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Viktor… on his knees for you.

Your brain barely has time to process the sigh of him–his flustered cheeks, the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead, the way his lips are still swollen from every desperate kiss–before he leans in.

You twitch, too sensitive, too raw, but Viktor humans softly, brushing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Shh,” he soothes, voice full of gentle amusement. His hands tighten, keeping you from squirming. “I am only returning the favor.”

Your stomach flutters. “Viktor, you don’t have to–”

“I want to.”

His voice, is low but certain. There’s no hesitation, no teasing, no arrogance. Just pure, unfiltered need.

"Let me take care of you," he murmurs, voice thick with reverence.

His hands caress your thighs, slow, deliberate, tracing over every mark he’s left behind. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips pressing a lingering kiss just above your knee.

"Gods, look at you," he breathes, almost to himself. "Perfect."

The first, slow, lazy drag of his tongue makes you jolt, a sharp inhale cutting through your chest. Your fingers twitch, grasping at the smooth metal surface of the workbench, trying to anchor yourself.

“Too much,” you gasp. “Viktor, I–”

But he doesn’t stop. He’s not playing games.

He’s learning you. Studying you. Committing every sound, every reaction, every shuddering breath to memory.

Your head tips back, lips parting on a quiet moan. Your fingers find his hair to hold him closer.

Viktor groans at the feeling, the way your fingers grip his hair harder, at the way your thighs shake around him. His nails dig in slightly, his own breath stuttering.

He wants this just as much as you do.

“Gods, you’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs between licks to your clit, his voice thick with something dangerously close to reverence. “Let me hear you.”

Your body arches as he laps at you again, deeper, firmer–and suddenly the heat inside you that you thought had finally burned out flares back to life.

It builds too fast.

Your body is too sensitive.

“Viktor–” Your voice catches, half a warning, half a plea.

He pulls back just slightly, lips shining with your slick juices, gaze heavy-lidded and dark with hunger. “Again,” he urges softly, lips brushing against your cunt. “Give me another.”

“I can’t–”

“You can.”

His voice is soft but commanding, his hands keeping you still as he pulls you apart all over again.

And then he presses his tongue just right.

The coil inside you snaps violently.

Your body locks up, a sharp cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure overwhelms you all at once. It’s more intense than before, sharper, hotter, burning through every nerve.

Viktor groans against you, holding you through it, his grip steady as you come undone in his hands. 

He finally pulls away, pressing one last lingering kiss against your thigh.

“There,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against your thigh, his hands stroking your sides in lazy absentminded circles. “That is much better.”

You stare at him, lips parted, body weak, mind still fuzzy from the aftershocks. 

And then, finally, you find your voice.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Viktor grins, pressing a final kiss to your knee as he quotes you. “And yet, you let me do this.”

The two of you finally manage to stand. You clean off most of the fluids from his body and help him back into his uniform.

The whole time he can’t keep his eyes off of you because you’re still naked, but you pay him no mind.

You throw on whatever clean items you can find and Viktor watches you as he straightens his disheveled vest, smoothing down his messy hair, ever the perfectionist despite the fact that he was just on his knees for you.

Together, you quietly restore order to the lab–blueprints shuffled back into place, discarded tools returned to their proper shelves.

The only thing you can’t fix is the faint smirk that refuses to leave Viktor’s lips.

You fasten the last button on your clothes, running a hand through your hair as you glance over at him.

“What?”

Viktor just shakes his head, grabbing his cane. “Nothing.” His smirk grows, “Just… you are truly insufferable.”

You laugh, stepping closer, grabbing his collar to kiss him one last time–slow, letting him feel the way your lips curve against his.

You pull away first. “I didn’t hear you complaining earlier. In fact–”

Viktor exhales, long-suffering, dramatic, but utterly pleased. “Go, before I decide I need another break.”

You chuckle, finally turning for the door, stepping into the hallway with a newfound lightness in your step.

As you close the lab doors behind you, you spot Jayce standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, clearly waiting.

His eyes flicker to the lab door, then back to you. Jayce chokes on his own breath, eyes darting between your disheveled clothes, your swollen lips, and the absolute mess you just walked out of.

"Did you—" He stops, his voice cracking. He looks past you, at the closed lab door, then back at you, as if trying to process what just happened.

Jayce blinks. Once. Twice. His mouth opens, then closes again, like he’s struggling to process what he’s looking at.

His gaze flickers to your unkempt appearance, the slight limp in your step, the faintest smirk still curving your lips. His expression morphs from confusion to realization to sheer, horrified understanding.

"Did you—" He stops, his voice cracking. "In the lab?"

You pat his shoulder, grinning. "He's all yours—though, I doubt he has much left to give."

And with that, you walk away, victorious.

[r1nstaaa]

Overcoming your fear of heights ft. Hyunjin <3

SURPRISEEEE I STILL WRITE!!! (this was supposed to be a short drabble)

masterlist

no warnings, tbh. just fluff. very self indulgent. i love him so much. would recommend listening to 'never enough' by daniel caesar (yes the whole album) or french exit by tv girl for the best experience !!!

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Hyunjin asked, a hint of laughter in his voice at the irony of the situation. “No, wait. Let me get this straight. You, my girlfriend of two years, my best friend of five, are sitting with me at the rooftop and telling me that your biggest fear is heights?” It was almost comical to think about. You were sat against a wall near the edge, your head resting on his shoulder like a puzzle piece. You’d been here thousands of times before, as friends, and even more so as lovers. Never once did it cross his mind that you could’ve been scared of the place that was almost like your second home. Come to think of it, he’s never seen you so much as spare a glance downwards where the city lights illuminate the dark roads at night, almost as if they were reflecting the night sky above. “Well, it’s not like it ever came up. and i’m not deathly scared or anything, it’s just- i don’t know. i don’t like the feeling it gives. Like, i could fall over any second. It’s the risk of falling down that scares me, i think.” you responded. You couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, as if you were the one who hung up the stars you were so busy admiring from beside him. He pulled you a little closer, his gaze softening after he heard your reasoning.

“Baby, you should’ve said something. Why didn’t you tell me? we don’t have to come up here. There’s so many places we could go. Ones that don’t scare you shitless.” he added the last part with a slight hint of humour in it, hoping to ease the seriousness of the otherwise tranquil atmosphere you had created. “You know i wouldn’t mind.” he added, just some extra reassurance. Thoughtful as always.

“No, no. That’s the thing.” how were you to tell him that it’s not scary if it’s with him? how do you put into words the feeling you get when his fingers intertwine with yours and make you feel like the strongest person in the world? how do you tell him that his presence in itself gave you all the strength you needed to go anywhere, at any time. to live. “i don’t feel that scared when i’m here with you. In fact, i don’t feel scared at all.” When he heard that, he could’ve sworn his heart did a thousand little backflips. He had the happiest, biggest smile on his face as he looked at you, wanting to confirm what you said, wanting to hear it again. He shifted a little, signalling you to sit up straight, even though the loss of contact sent a pang to his heart. “You don’t feel scared right now, baby? We’re on the rooftop of a 15 story high building, you know?” he asked in a soft voice, wanting to confirm your words. “No need to remind me, Hyunnie. But no, i don’t. it’s an odd feeling, really. Not shaking and trembling every time i’m more than 10 meters above ground level.”

He smiled again. He had that same look in his eyes, the one that was permanently etched in your memory but still made you feel butterflies every time you got to witness it. It was the same look that made you realise everything you gave to him was always reciprocated. Every ounce of trust, love, honesty, adoration. All of it. If you thought you had it bad, he definitely had it ten times worse. 

“So, if i asked you to get up right now, and just peek a little over the edge, you’d do it?” he asked, almost cautiously. He knew he had the power to help you overcome this, and he’d be a fool not to wield it. 

“Okay love, don’t push it.” you said, the roll of your eyes not quite matching with the fondness that laced your voice. That was a dumb question. Of course you wouldn’t. You weren’t gonna risk getting paralysed in fear just because a pretty boy with kind eyes asked you to. Right? 

Okay, correction. Your pretty boy with kind eyes. 

“Not even now?” he asked, his tone fragile enough to be compared to glass, as he intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips and brushed them against your knuckles, silently communicating a thousand different statements that didn’t quite make the cut to tumble out of his mouth. “Please?”

That was all it took. 

His hand was in yours, and you were both standing, facing the edge of the rooftop. The walls were quite tall, coming up to your ribs, so the odds of you regretting this were pretty low. Not zero, but still pretty low.

“Remember, my love. i’m here with you, holding your hand. okay?” his hand had an iron grip on yours. “I won’t let you go, and it’s just a little peek. I just want you to see how pretty the city looks. You’re gonna love it, i promise.”

You were shaking a little, but you did it. And he was right there with you the whole time. His hand didn’t let go of yours for even a second as he told you stories about his childhood, occasionally pointing out the pretty lights and glancing at you to see how you were feeling. After a few minutes, you were considerably more at ease than you’ve ever been at such a height before. He pulled you to his chest, his heart filled with pride. He placed a kiss to your hairline, lips lingering there for a few seconds longer. “You’re so brave, baby. See? The world isn’t that scary when you’re with me.”

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t sure of the cause anymore.

[sunrisecaminus]

Hello again bbg I hope you're okay o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o may I request shockwave x fem! human reader who he kidnapped for experiment but oh no this one-eyed big BOI falls in love~ you can make NSFW 😉✋🏻😌🤚🏻

Take your time bbg love you 🎀✨

Message - I cooked you some good shit, now eat your dinner. Shockwave is such an interesting weirdo, I like this giant piece of crap. Love you too!

Shockwave x Human Reader NSFW

Summary - Shockwave using his kidnapped human woman as his next "experiment".

Warnings - NSFW

You have been stuck in this testing chamber for weeks now. Being fed and cleaned wasn't the issue, it was that you have not been able to walk around or do anything for forever. Holy crap has it been so long since you have been able to even change into different clothes, they have just been cleaning the same ones over and over. When you complained about it last time, the big purple mech gave you pjs. It was nice, but now you have been wearing this thing for eight days. Even if you hate your life right now, you are still very much terrified of Shockwave. He has tested a lot of things, but Megatron told him to test your pain tolerance or anything that is more "useful to him". If not, you would be disposed of, which is something you wish to never happen to you. What you didn't know, was that Shockwave has taken an interest in you. Whenever he has done his tests, you try your very best even if you were kidnapped. Honestly, he was theorizing you were going to try to escape and fight back, but you were not stupid. Shockwave underestimated you, and is now intrigued by your character and personality. You both have talked before, telling him that you were in college, about to graduate with a n/d (name of degree). He thought it was interesting how humans were kind of similar with Cybertronians, even if their physical appearances were much different.

Now, understanding your history and emotions, he won't admit how much he adores you. Shockwave hated himself for a long time, falling in love with such a disgusting creature…but it has been millions of years since he has cared for someone. He tries to give you better food, and even has been looking up trending clothes he should buy for you. Shockwave has told Megatron that they should be using you as a pet and not a disposable experiment, but it got him no where. Starscream thought you were the grosses thing in the world and told Shockwave multiple times to destroy you. You would get confused why there would be random times Shockwave threatens or hits Starscream, but its because Starscream would tell him how much he hated you quietly so you wouldn't freak out and try to escape. Shockwave is very protective of you and keeps you in that tube for a reason…but he understands that he has a job to do. He has been thinking for a while on how to save himself while also not hurting you��which got him to design a lovely plan. He now has a new test, which he asked Megatron if he should be able to do, and was excepted. Finally, time to get back to work.

You are right now laying on the floor of the tube, trying to take a nap, when you hear a door open and see the purple mech again. Opening your eyes, you get up and watch him going to his desk and grabbing data pads, graphs, and a camera. Crap, its time for the experiment. "Um…can we talk about this? Maybe we can do the running experiment again?" You press your hands on the glass and look at him with pleading eyes, oh how cute you look begging for him. "I have other plans, Ms.l/n (last name)." Oh no you had to think of something. All you can think of is knives cutting you, being smacked around, or maybe even being smooshed. Pain tolerance is something that an experiment could do many ways with, which is not helping your imagination going crazy. "I promise not to complain! Please, I don't want to be killed!" Shockwave didn't look at you, setting up the camera to face you. "Megatron changed the experiment to something else. You will not be harmed…though it is an experiment that can be seen as vulgar." Well that made you relieved at first, but than made you curious on what was about to happen. He already saw you naked when you had to get changed. You didn't feel too much shame about your body, as these bots had different beauty standards than humans…at least you hope. You didn't want to look ugly to them, but why would you care about what they think?! Maybe he will have you eat something gross? You rather do that then be physically abused. Shockwave grabs a data pad and walks ups to the tube, hooking up some wires to it that was connected to a control panel. Oh, he did this once to have you test your swimming abilities by pouring water into the tube with whatever machine he uses. "The question we are about to experiment today on is your mental compacity. We will test how well your brain can function on your ability to read or answer questions while being distracted in other things". You felt as though this was just a normal test, maybe it was vulgar because it has to do with your brain? "Oh, so like multitasking, right"? You asked, trying to sound as respectful as you can to not make him mad. Shockwave wished he could laugh, you were smarter with your vocabulary than he thought. "Something like that, yes."

The big mech goes up to the control panel and starts to press buttons, once he flipped a little switch, you see little wired tendrils coming from the top of the testing chamber. This was very new and you poked one, letting it slide around your hand a little. Shockwave grabs some cards and watches you play with the new machine he made. "I will be showing you pictures of colors or items on these cards. Try to answer them as best as you can without being distracted by anything that goes on inside the chamber. Do not react and stay focused if they poke you, you understand?" After explaining the rules to you, he sees you nodding without any questions as he pulls out of the cards. "Square" You feel one of the tendrils wrap itself around your ankle as you answer the question. You don't move and keep your eyes on Shockwave. He pulls up another card. "Magnify Glass". One of the other tendrils wrap around your stomach. You gasp as it slowly slips under your shirt and slides around. "Sir! Are you sure this is necessary for the test?" Shockwave takes another card out before he looks up at you. Goodness thank god he is recording you, he was probably going to watch this tape more than once. "Of course, I need to test how well you can pay attention. Now name what is on the card." You couldn't believe what was happening, but you didn't mind too much. Your cheeks get red and kept naming the cards. The tendril in your shirt tightens around your lower chest while another goes under the cloth, pulling the shirt off over your head. "Ah! Sh-shockwave wait-"! When you called his name out, his head looks down. He didn't want you to know how much this was making him go nuts. He never gave you a bra to wear for today so your boobs were out already. The tendril wrapped around you starts to wrap around your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. You moan from the sensitive touching and start to get weak in the knees. "Mhmm! U-um car~" You kneels down, feeling the one around your ankle goes up your leg and pulls on it, making you naturally spread your legs on the ground. Thankfully you had nice pants, because then Shockwave would have seen how soaked you were from what was happened. Being in such a sensual position was making your mind think of so many things.

Shockwave watches you, basically saving the picture of your body in his mind. You are right now having your legs spread while kneeling on the ground, having one of his machine tendrils touch your boobs. He hesitated before he pulls out another card. "Y-yellow." You were still going, how smart you seemed to him. Human creatures were so simple and dumb in his eyes, seeing you being able to control yourself while having, what humans would consider, such a distracting experience. You were way stronger mentally than a lot of the soldiers on this ship. He wanted to make it harder, so he flips another switch and out comes another tendril. This one goes up to your pants and slides under the layers of clothes that cover your nether region. "Ngnn! Holy shi-ah!" You feel the tendril rubbing itself in between your folds and that is what makes you feel like your going to lose this experiment. Your hands press against the glass, leaning against to help yourself get more support from kneeling on the ground. You needed to finish the test or he was just going to continue this sinful act. "Cat…mhmm." Shockwave knew you were getting too weak, your eyes were getting dazed and blurry. He had one more card left, but he wants to know if you can focus when you are getting 100% attention. He presses on one of the buttons and the tendril enters into your vagina, going as deep as it can to figure out what it was working with. Shockwave sees your eyes get wide from the sudden pressure and you moan out his name. Shockwave couldn't believe this, but he felt his spike press against his panel, but he was going to wait until after the experiment to treat it. He shows you the last card. "This is the final card. Can you read it?" You couldn't believe what was happening, this tendril was slamming into your walls like it was no ones business…but if this is what he wanted, you were not going to lose this. You press your face against the glass to try and focus, blinking your eyes to keep your vision from giving out. "Purple! It's Purple!" You finally did it, now he could stop before you became a mess. The tendrils stop moving as you try to get the one off your boobs. Your hands shakily grab it, but it wouldn't move. You see shockwave flip another switch as another tendril comes down…oh no. You completed the test, you got all of them right! Why was he adding more?! You see the tendril going down into your pants like the other one. "W-wait sir, I did the test! Did I do well?" That was when you see Shockwave's eye brightens a little, watching as he puts his hand on the On button. "You did very well y/n. Now it is time for your reward." He turns it on again and you feel the second tendril push itself inside you, making your vagina now have two of them sliding in and out of your walls. You moan loudly, feeling your eyes start to water from the pleasure you were feeling. Your brain gets clouded, only thinking about your lower half getting destroyed. It only took a few minutes for you to cum all over the floor. The tendrils stay inside you when you started to slide off the glass and onto the floor. Your chest gets unwrapped, while the ones inside you slide out carefully and put themselves away. This was so embarrassing, you were laying on your stomach in your own liquids. Shockwave ends the recording and looks at the masterpiece he just made. "You surprise me, human. My processor is changing its opinion on you at this very moment. You should be proud."

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝

▏Cage-fighter!Logan x Reader

▏Summary: Charles gave you a mission of recruiting a new mutant. Not everything went according to plan...

(Scott is an overprotective older brother)

▏Warnings: kinda mean!Logan | virgin!reader | NSFW | MDNI | riding | public sex | car sex | breast play | slight overstimulation | fingering | unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) | squirting |

▏Word count: 6,5k

You were surprised when Charles called you into his office. Sure, you were considered as a part of x-men, but since Scott was known for his overprotective nature of an older brother, you barely have been sent on any missions. Stuck in the mansion as if you were still a freaking student. 

“You wanted to see me Professor?” 

“Oh yes, come in Y/n.” He smiled reassuringly, searching through some documents on his desk. When you sat down, he stopped his previous work and focused his attention fully on you. “How are you?” Always a polite and lovely older teacher. 

“Good if we don’t count how Scott has been a pain in the ass lately.” It was met with his little smirk and shake of head. “But you didn’t call me just to chat, am I right, professor?” 

“As perceiving as always, my dear. I wanted to see you because of a rather delicate case.” A light sigh left him, but the smile was still formed on his lips. “You see, at the conference I attended, I met an old friend. But it can’t be seen as a good type of meeting.” 

You got a slight idea about what he was possibly talking about. Magneto. All of you in the team knew how tumultuous the relationship was with these two. Old lovers who separated because of different perceptions of the world and humankind. Too divergent for them to make it work. 

“I have my reasons to believe he’s planning something special for the upcoming conference on which the mutant case will be discussed.” Special was clearly an understatement for the word bad. Really bad if Charles was willing to start his defense before Magneto would do even the first step. “That’s why I need to ask for your help. I believe that Eric wants to acquire a specific mutant for his own purpose.” 

“Why?” 

“That’s the main reason why we need to get to him first. I don’t know.” 

Not good. Even terrible if anyone would ask for your opinion. 

“Why me?” Usually it was Storm who recruited  new faces, shit even Scott sometimes, but never you. 

“Because of your mutation, my dear. The man I want you to find is rather… reluctant when it comes to people. Not very fond of anyone reaching out to him.” 

“You know this guy, professor?” 

“I’ve met him once, yes. That’s why I know he wouldn’t like to see my face again. But your  mutation will be very useful to get to him.” 

Though both of your brothers had mutations connected with energy blasting, yours developed in completely different ways. You were an empath. A very powerful if believing Charles words. Despite not fully understanding its full potential, even now you could read people's emotions. Influence them to your will. Search through the memories that were strong enough to leave a track. Empathize, share and resonate with others' pain, ecstasy or anger. Sometimes you also could see the past through objects that people had core feelings about but you couldn’t control that particular fragment of your ability. Usually it just happens without you having any power over it. Like a passive observer drawn into the vortex of events, forced to experience them in a few seconds, like a stop-motion movie. Professors promised you that at one point you will be able to control it, but so far you haven’t made any progress in it. 

“What you want me to do? Find him and?” 

“Understand and talk him into coming here. While being alone he’s an easy target for Magneto to come for, but here he will be safe and out of reach.” 

“That mutant… he has a name?” 

“Logan.” Another sigh left your former teacher, like he was trying to recall an old memory. “The Wolverine.” 

You were packing in your room when Scott came in and leaned over the door. 

“You have everything?” 

It was the first time for him to let you go on a solo mission. He had been trying to convince professor to let him go with you, but Charles stood his ground, persuading on you dealing with it on your own. Your brother didn’t like it in the slightest, but it was an old man who had the final word. 

“Yes, Scotty.” You sighed, knowing that he was simply worrying about you. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you there.” By drive you knew he meant the jet flight, so you only shook your head, dismissing his offer. 

“I’m a big girl, Scott. I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can, sunshine.” His tone was less rigid than normally would’ve expected in such circumstances. Scott knew that the only thing he could do now was assure you about your abilities and his faith in you. Show his support and trust. “Just fulfilling my duty as an older brother.” His words made you chuckle. On a daily basis this type of attitude was rather irritating but now when you couldn’t really tell how long you're gonna be gone? It was sweet and you definitely will miss your little banters. “Remember though it’s only a recce. You find this guy, kick his ass if it’ll be necessary and call me so we can pick you up, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m the best at kicking asses.” 

“Damn you are, N/n.” You both laughed at that, looking at each other. You could say a lot of stuff about him, but in times like that, you couldn’t imagine having anyone else as a brother. Especially after Alex's death. “Come here, you little monster.” You walked towards him and soon enough ended up in a tight hug. “Love you, you know it, right?” 

“Love you too, asshole.” You mouthed back, smirking, your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. 

After hours of traveling you finally got in an obscure bar in a small village in Canada. The spot where Charles told you the mutant had been last seen. The place was cramped, mostly drunk guys in their forties. To say that you weren’t a perfect fit here was a huge understatement. From the moment you entered and sat near the counter, a lot of those men were giving you curious and dirty glances. 

But you had to focus on the task. While ordering a drink you heard a loud explosion of roars and got curious about the source of them. Quickly you grabbed your glass and walked over to the crowd circled around the cage, some unconscious guy had been dragged out of. 

“Gentlemen! All my years I haven’t seen anything like that! Will you really allow this man to get away with your money?!” 

In the meantime when the announcer cheered the crowd, the guy who was still standing in the cage zeroed a whole glass of whiskey at one. Probably won’t be any advantage in the next fight, you thought. 

“I’ll fight him!” Some drunk dude yelled next to you and stormed into the cage. 

His posture was bigger than the other fighter which made you bet on him. The naked chest one wasn’t even looking at his opponent when the other had made his first move, punching and manhandling him to the fence. It wasn’t a fair action, but you supposed that nothing in this dirty place could be expected to be one. The situation changed completely in the next two seconds because the former champion kicked him off immediately, receiving another round of roars and applause from drunk men around you. 

“The Wolverine, everyone!” 

Bingo. 

You’ve waited another hour or so and the bar slowly emptied, most of the fans of amateur fights and illegal betting already gone or sleeping drunk in the corners. But the man you’ve been looking for nowhere to be seen even though he left the cage some time ago. 

“You lost, doll?” The rough hand came to the back of your neck and you felt that characteristic flow of emotions pass through you. A drunk idiot who just touched you had only one particular thing in mind and you didn’t like it. His head clouded by need of sticking his dick into something, in that case: you. “Need company? It would be such a shame for a beauty like you to get hurt. It’s not safe in the city by night, you know?” A dirty laugh left him, your skin feeling his hideous breath on your neck. 

“Not interested.” 

“Oh come on, doll, you can’t expect to sit here all alone and not make guys believe that you long for some funny time-“ 

You wanted to channel his thoughts on a completely different track which would give you time to get away from him, but before you could’ve done so, you felt how that guy was pulled away from you. 

“She said she’s not interested, bub. Get the fuck out of here, will ya? Night over, look for some whore to stick your dick into.” Your savior’s voice was threatening, almost wanting that asshole to try something. 

But even in his drunken state the guy knew better than that, evacuating from the place as fast as his wobbly legs allows him to. 

“Thanks.” You whispered relieved how it all worked out without getting messy. Wolverine only checked your posture with indifference and then sat a few stools away. 

Shit, Charles was right about one thing. That guy wasn’t the chatty type. 

“Gimme one bear and gonna head out, Ted.” 

“Some lucky girl waiting for you or what?” Bartender laughed, opening the bottle and setting it in front of the other man. He hasn’t received any answer though. Instead Wolverine lighten the cigar, looking at the small TV broadcasting news about the government conference. The same one that professor mentioned and the one which Magneto wanted to destroy. “Anything for you, sweetie?” 

“I’ll pass.” Logan retreated his eyes to you once again, taking a puff of his cigar. His judging sight drilling into your head, but then returned to the news. 

You really wanted to talk or touch him to discover  why he’s been like this, but before you got a chance to do so, two men approached him from the back. Judging by their facial expression it screamed trouble. 

Another day of the same fucking fate. Him walking in the bar, drinking some alcohol, knocking out some overconfident morons and then taking the money he gained by making this shit show entertaining. Logan wasn’t sure anymore why he even bothered with it. At first he wanted to understand his past: flashbacks of his memory which led him to a village in Canada. But for the last few weeks he got none of it. No information, no single clue which would make his mind clear about what the fuck had happened and who he truly was. The only good thing about him ending as a cage fighter was the owner not caring about him being mutant, even being overjoyed that Logan was being his an inexhaustible source of income from the illegal gambling. 

After the last fight of the day he was exhausted from all the screaming and shouting. Intoxicated assholes weren’t his problem or at least not until some dickhead would’ve decided to mess with him or kick in the balls like the last jerk who was quickly pacified not so long ago. 

Though the second he saw how some drunk perv tried his luck with the young girl near the counter, he only groaned deeply, heading to help her. A place like this wasn’t the right one for a night out especially if you’re a pretty, young and innocent looking girl who’s there all alone. He shouldn’t care, you’re not his problem, probably even wanting that sort of attention if you willingly chose to spend your night here, but sometimes his morals were taking over him. 

After scaring the freak away and you thanking him, he really fought with himself not to talk to you. Who knows, maybe you would propose to pay him some way. Not in money, preferably being a good laid for the night. Fuck, he really hasn’t had sex in a long time now and honestly if a sweet little thing like you would be okay with it… But he didn’t ask. That way he would’ve ended up being just another asshole. 

The cigar and beer that Ted opened for him had to be enough prize for being a decent guy. 

“You owe me some money.” Logan felt the scent of a man who tapped his back. The same dumbass who was so eager to kick balls in the fight. His more sane friend tried to pull him out of the idea of messing with Wolverine, but with no success. Too fucking bad. “No one man takes punches like that without the mark to show for it. I know what you are.”

“Listen, bub, you lost your money, you keep this up, you gonna lose something else.” Preferably his dick but the arm or teeth would work well enough. For most people Logan was intimidating enough not to try anything after the first and at the same time last warning. But this man obviously had to be another level of idiot. 

“Watch out!” You screamed not knowing that he could sense how that dickhead took a pocket knife from his pocket before you’ve even opened the mouth. It could be considered as a cute gesture, the way you cared and wanted to warn him. Really an innocent little thing you are. 

In no time Logan pinned the asshole who attacked him to the near wall, his two claws out, the middle slowly coming out, the animal anger clearly seen on his face. It was quite a shock that the guy who faced him didn't shit his pants. Well, maybe not yet. 

“Keep your horses, Wolvie.” Ted, said in a calm voice. Shit, Logan really craved to just cut that fool head off but he had a deal with the owner. No killing if he wanted to stay there and get his money. That’s why he slowly retracted his claws, nodding with murderous face at guy to get the fuck out of here before he would’ve changed his mind. His blood was still boiling in pure fury but instead of ripping this place apart, Logan took out another cigar and put it in his mouth, adjusting his jacket. “See you tomorrow?” Bartender asked, but knew the answer anyway. 

“Whatever.” Logan murmured under his breath and stormed out of the bar without giving you any second thought. 

You knew you shouldn’t have come here again. Scott texted you last night concerned why you haven’t reached out yet. Your only answer being that things got a bit complicated but you can handle this. Apparently only quick intervention of Storm and Jean made him sit his ass down and not storm here right away. 

So here you were, sitting by the same counter and drinking some coke mixed with vodka, waiting for your mission to finally come in.

“You really are looking for troubles, princess, aren’t ya?” He gave you a look full of judgment and hesitation. But something else was hidden behind it. The way he smirked, tone of his voice… almost teasingly pleasing to hear. 

“Maybe I am.” You smiled back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. 

“Yesterday you got lucky, sweetheart. Tonight you may not have enough of it.” No knight on a white horse would save you. Not Logan. 

“I’ll take the risk.” 

It only made him smirk once again, not believing how naive you were to think you can survive in such a place. 

Seeing him getting ready, warming up in that cage shirtless… it made you feel things you didn’t think were possible in real life. In the mansion you haven’t had much choice in developing your social life. Most of the guys were students, younger than you and being afraid of Scott enough not to even approach you without a good reason: training or other school stuff. Of course your brother couldn’t fully control what you’ve been doing behind the closed doors. Fuck that was probably the reason why Storm gave you a vibrator for your last birthday to help yourself with your needs on your own. But here? With Logan’s naked sweaty chest and dogtags hanging on his neck. You squeezed your legs to get some friction because otherwise you were sure about going crazy. His hair made into little kitty ears weren’t helping your sanity either… 

The night had been going on very identical to the previous one. Him making a pulp out of his opponents who were stupid enough to walk into the cage. His movements were almost hypnotizing. The internal animal while fighting just to be gone a second he had a break for a sip of whiskey. Your attention was less and less focused on your main task, but you had still in mind how he had vanished yesterday. 

It was a freaking stupid idea. Probably one of the most foolish and ridiculous you ever had. So just in case you’ve sent the localization of your phone to Scott, texting him to start the engine. 

“Is there any person who is brave enough to stand this beast? Face him and return the money to you? Or you gonna-“ 

“I will do it.” Your voice echoed through the room, firstly met with silence just to make the crowd laugh. 

“You sure? This is no place for little ladies like you, pretty.” Announcer laughed, trying to disarm all the tension. 

“I’ll take the risk.” You repeated the same words you previously used in little chat with Logan, already walking into the ring. 

Shit, you were rather confident about your fighting skills, your training partner being Colosssus of all the people in the mansion who was a good two feet bigger than you… but you’ve never faced anyone with a healing factor. It definitely was a horrible idea. 

“You go easy on her, we clear?” The man with a mic whispered to Logan’s ear but you heard it anyway. “Don’t need some dumb chick’s blood on this floor and these drunk fucks to get involved.” Logan only nodded, zeroing his drink and turning around to face him. 

Your outfit definitely wasn’t helping your case in being more intimidating. Some washed out jeans and black top showing your thin arms. As if this man would’ve been even intimidated by you in the first place after rescuing you yesterday. 

“Listen princess, maybe it’s not about others, huh? Maybe it’s about lack of survival instincts. Or you’re just dumb. Nothing personal.” He hasn’t attacked yet, rather waiting for you to make a first move. “I’m not into playing with girls. Not like that.” Such a gentleman. “You still have time to-“ 

But you didn’t let him finish. Roundhouse kicked him back strong enough to make him move two steps backward. Your foot stung like hitting a fucking wall, but Logan just smiled. The grimace dark with a hint of surprise and determination. Like your move just made it all more interesting for him. His head still lowered, he run his tongue over his teeth and chuckled. You’ve tried to charge again, stroking blows and using your advantage of being more flexible and agile. Unfortunately with no success because he dodge them all. Just like he could have sensed your movement before the punch even hit. Quickly enough he had you in a headlock, standing behind you.

“You lost, princess.” He whispered, grinning proudly. 

Before you were able to answer you felt that familiar wave of power flowing through you. His dogtags were pressed against the back of your neck which activated the part of mutation you couldn’t control. 

Images from his life passed in front of your eyes. Him talking with some military officer, how he got his claws and all adamantium in his body. The following events: the farm and older marriage that helped him and got killed, discovering the truth about the whole intrigue he got involved into, the fight side by side with his brother and how he lost his memory. But more importantly, all his pain and anger. It all lasted only a couple of seconds but the intensity of it made you squirm, tears falling down your cheeks. Now you understood the reason why your foot hurt after kicking him. This guy had freaking metal instead of bones inside his body. 

The connection broke with him letting you go, stepping back like he just got burned. 

“I-I’m sorry…” You’ve coughed out, looking at him with glassy eyes. Pure fear on your face while apologizing for something you couldn’t even understand. But the only thing you’ve been met with was anger. The realization hit you instantly. You haven’t only relieved the memories from dogtags, but at the same time also linked with Logan himself. The emotions of a man whose mind had been invaded without any consent. You fucked up, because the man who stood in front of you wasn’t just a fighter anymore. It was so much more. 

The dark expression of a monster who’s been set free off the leash gave you enough reason to genuinely believe you not gonna get out of it alive. 

Logan’s head was on fire. Burning and stinging like he just got put a red metal inside of it. He felt like a part of his brain was cut out and squeezed into a really tight spot. For a few seconds his mind wasn’t his own. 

He didn’t give a fuck if you were a woman anymore. 

“Who the fuck are you?” His voice was a mere whisper. Warning of what to come clear. The next moment he pinned you down to the floor, knee securing that you won’t be able to move and his big hand on your neck suffocating you. If it was up to him, he would’ve ripped the truth out of you right there and then. But unfortunately he couldn’t. You two still had an audience. “That’s what gonna happen now, you hear me?” The small nod of your head was enough for him to continue. “You gonna pat out, leave the bar and wait for me outside. And you better pray for me to find you there, we clear?” He whispered through his teeth and you couldn’t have done anything else than to obey his orders. “Good bitch.” 

All things that happened after this were just a blur for him. How the guy cheered the crowd, you running out, him grabbing his bag and storming out of the place accompanied by the yells for him to come back. It didn’t matter, he didn’t give a single fuck. He will never come back here anyway. Not after what you’ve done. 

“At least you’re obedient or scared enough to listen orders. Get in the fucking car.” You were dragged to the truck. Logan opened the door for you to get in but you doubted it was an act of politeness. Probably he would’ve thrown you in if you would’ve fought him. After making sure you won’t try anything, he walked over and started the car. 

“Where are we going?” You’ve asked after some time in a way of complete silence. 

“Not your fucking problem.” It was his. He couldn’t stay there, not after what happened in the cage. Logan should’ve left a long time ago but your little show was the last push he needed. Now his only purpose being to get the hell out of this area as far as possible and press you enough to start talking. “What the hell was that, hm?” 

“What was what? I don’t know-“ 

“Stop with the bullshit now, princess, or I’m gonna make you.” Logan reached for the glove box to get his cigar but the movement was so sudden that you squirmed away. He gave you a glance and saw the fear in your pale face. Traces of tears still visible on the red cheeks from the cold as you’d waited for him. Fuck, maybe he was too harsh with you. You were still young and innocent, clearly not used to the angry and dark light of man who was yelling at you. “Listen, bub, you damn well know what I’m talking about. You’ve been inside of my head. How?” His tone more gentle but still demanding. 

“I don’t know…” 

“You don’t know or you don’t care?” He lightened the cigar. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Y/n.” You answered, less scared now he’d changed the tone. “I’m like you.” 

“Trust me, princess, you are nothing like me.” 

“You’re a mutant.” He gave you a quick side look but stayed silent. “The claws you’ve scared that guy with… the way you’ve won all your fights. When they come out… does it hurt?” 

“Every time.” 

“I’m a mutant too.” 

“And you can what? Fuck with people brains without asking?” Logan was still pissed but tried to somehow stay civil not to scare you again. Seeing how you shivered something in him broke a bit. Damn he ordered you to wait for him in the freezing cold temperature with no coat… He put the heating on. “Put your hands on the heater.” He tried to move them for you, but you once again retreated. “I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.” 

Not anymore. Not when he calmed down a bit. After a while when you felt warmth spread through, you decided to get back to your conversation. 

“I’m an empath. Can feel people's emotions by touching them. Sometimes influence them if I’m willing to.” Or at least that what you’ve already known you could do and more importantly, how. 

“So what, you can say when someone’s happy?” 

“More or less. Can say and feel it. Mirror the exact amount of it. Happiness, anger… pain.” It got you curious what he had said about the claws… living in constant pain…

Logan didn’t say anything back so you’ve stayed in silence again. 

“The Wolverine… you’ve chosen it.” You looked at his dogtags but he quickly hid them under his shirt. Then he realized how it wasn’t even a question. 

“How do you know?” Logan edged again. He couldn’t recall the exact situation himself, only shreds of it in his nightmares, so how the fuck would you know. 

“I-I…” 

“You what, princes?” The grip on a wheel tightened. 

“I’ve seen it… the moment you’ve asked to make them.” 

“What?” The car stopped immediately, he facing you as if he had misheard you. 

“Sometimes I can see the fragments of people’s past connected with objects… When we were close, I-“ 

“Have you seen anything else? Before it all happened?” 

“No…”

“Are you fucking sure?” Months of searching, praying for any sort of clue just to find nothing. And now he discovered that the one person who could bring it all together was sitting in his car. He couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let you go. 

“I swear, Logan!” You cried, tired of his questioning. 

“How do you know my name?” 

“I know a person who knows you. Who can help you.” Well Charles told you that this guy wasn’t very fond of him, but since Logan lost his memory then it was no harm to try. 

“How?” He was getting frustrated by how this was the only word he has been repeating since the beginning of it all. 

“He’s the principal of the school I’ve attended.” 

“A school?” 

“Place for people like us. Mutants. He’s a telepath and one of the smartest people I know. If anyone will be able to help you, it’s gonna be him. But you need to get with me there to let him try.” 

Logan was considering his options. It could easily be a trap. Not the first one he had stepped in. But your heartbeat and how genuine you’ve sounded… he doubted you were trying to fool him. 

“I’ve seen you checking me out today.” The sudden change of topic got you off guard. But he had to revert his mind to something else. Destress. And the fact he was sitting in one car with an innocent little thing like you who had been wet just because of his naked torso hours ago? He won’t give up his luck. “Never seen a man’s chest before, sweetheart?” His eyes were dark again, this time not because of rage but desire. “You had been clenching your goddamn legs like you could’ve come just by the sight of it.” 

He was able to smell you. The scent of your arousal hidden under these jeans of yours. He could bet that your panties had a wet patch on them. His hand moved to your thigh, thumb caressing small circles inside of it. 

“It’s okay, princess, I don’t blame you. A sweet innocent thing like you craves to be taken care of, is it right?” 

“L-Logan-“ Your quiet moan only proved him right. 

“Shh, it’s alright, darlin’ let me do it. Let me take care of you.” 

His skilled fingers opened your zipper and helped you get out of your pants, just to trail the pad of them on the wet spot. 

“Fuck, princess you’re soaking. Can I take them off?” Logan asked but your nod made him chuckle. “Words, Y/n.” 

“Y-yes.” 

He quickly got to work, showing your panties down and throwing them somewhere in the back of the car. When he brought his fingers back on your cunt, teasing your clit, you tried to close your legs but his big hands stopped you.

“None of that, doll. Keep them nice and open for me like a good girl.” He rubbed tight slow circles around it which made you squirm and close your eyes. “That’s it, relax for me, baby.” Next second his fingers found their way into his mouth and helped smiled teasingly. “So sweet. Best I’ve ever tasted.” And without any warning he put one of it in your cunt, making you scream. “So fucking tight. Can’t even take one. You’re a virgin, princess?” 

You tried to move your head, too shy to even look at him, but his other hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to face him. 

“Eyes on me and answer, Y/n.” 

“Y-yes.” 

“An innocent little girl you are. Saving yourself for me.” Another finger joined the first one, moving deep in and out of you, stretching your walls so you would be able to take him. Him being knuckle deep made you drool, eyes rolled to the back of your head, trembling because of too much pleasure. But then started an attack on your clit with his thumb and you were completely gone. 

“Logan!” You screamed, overstimulated already. “Too much!” 

A smug smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, eyes half-hooded. "Two fingers is too much?" he says, almost sounding surprised. "Come on, doll, be a big girl. You could fight me but can’t take two fucking fingers?” He mocked you. 

You're gasping for air, chest heaving. His thick fingers pump in and out of you, pussy frothing all over them. 

"T-They're so big," you whine. 

Hearing your raspy, lewd voice causes his cock to throb. He chuckles, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent. Shit, Logan was so sure that the second he will bury his dick in you, he will never get over you. Never let you go. 

"You know what I think? I think you can handle one more. Just to get you starched and nicely prepared for my dick, darlin’.” 

The thought of not one, not two, but three of his huge fingers has your pussy clench uncontrollably. That weird feeling in your stomach forming, the one that you so well know from all the lonely nights when you had your own hand deep in your panties. The second he forced the third one made you cum harder than ever before. You shudder, biting down on your lip as you feel the wetness all around your legs and Logan’s hand. Fuck, something was definitely wrong, you only hoped that he didn't catch that. Yet the warm liquid is coating his wrist and upper arm, all the way to his elbow. 

“Fuck, did you know you can make a little mess like this, love?” He says, gesturing with his head towards his arm. He pulls his fingers out and you groan audibly at the loss, your hold clenched around nothing. “Your virgin pussy already missing me like a cheap slut, Y/n.” Seeing your face all red and how shy you became, Logan opened his pants and loved them with his boxers, showing you his already fully hard length. He quickly brought you to sit on his laps, swinging your ass back and forth just to torture your puffy clit even more. “But it’s okay, princess. That’s what we want. I need you nice and wet, okay?” 

“Logan…” You choked out because of his actions and he kissed your lips just to shut you up. No matter how  much he loved your little cute whines, he needed you as aroused as possible to make you take his big size. 

“Shit, I hope I'm the first one who kissed you too. Too sweet and innocent to share.” His lips left the trail of kisses down your neck, sucking and biting. Wanting to mark you any way possible. 

“Shit, Logan, please…” You moaned, your mind fully clouded with need by this point. 

He took off your shirt, unhooking your bra and fuck him if it wasn’t the best sight he could’ve imagined. Big breasts that were perfect for his huge hands to play with as he wished. The vision of you bouncing on his dick with them in front of his face gonna be the image of what he will jerk off every time from now on. 

“You’re gorgeous, love. Can’t get enough of you.” His skilled tongue sucked and licked your nipple while one of his hands paid attention to the other one, which made you arch your back. 

You weren't sure anymore if you wanted him to stop or get closer. 

“You ready, princess?” 

Logan asked and it got you back to your right mind. You were naked in the car of a guy who you were supposed to take to the mansion as your mission. A man you’ve known for not even two freaking days and Scott could be here in any second. 

“Logan, wait!” He looked at you confused. Worried that he had done something wrong. “My brother gonna be furious-“ 

It only made him laugh. You are a damn innocent one truly. 

“I don’t fucking care.” 

And with that he lowered you slowly on his cock, your scream echoed all over the truck. You have no control of how vocal you became, pain mixing with the pleasure. The thought of how much effort he put into preparing you for it… you considered yourself lucky for him being so thoughtful. 

“It’s okay, princess, I got you. You are doing a good job. Such a good pussy for me. I got you, Y/n.” 

Logan gave you some time to adjust to his size, knowing that for most of his partners it was a lot to take, let alone for you. 

“Y-you can move.” You whimpered, putting your head on his shoulder. 

“You sure, darlin’?” Your nod was the last sign of consent he needed to move you up and down his length. He was doing all the work, gripping your ass but still he left some sort of control for you to take over in case of feeling any sort of discomfort. But fast enough your body forgot about the pain of sudden intrusion, instead sinking in the spiral of pure pleasure and ecstasy.  You being a moaning mess, squeezing him as a vice. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Never letting off this cunt ever again. Shit!” He groaned when you clenched uncontrollably. 

When you got more confident and started moving at your own pace, his hands move to your breast again, playing with them and paying attention as being hypnotized by them. His face deepened between them, earning you another low groan murmur.

You two were so focused on your pleasure that you didn't realize when the weather outside of the car changed. Instead of a clear sky, there was a little snow storm. Just the loud sound of falling tree on the mask got you out of your trans. 

“Fuck!” You screamed, frightened of what happened. 

And the moment you turned back to see what was wrong, your heart sank. Not so far from the car two people were standing and looking at the whole scene. As one of them started walking closer to your door, you quickly got off Logan’s member, looking for your underwear but it was nowhere to be found. You opted for putting on your jeans and when you’ve desperately searched for your top, the leather jacket was handed over. 

“Cover yourself, princess.” Logan’s tone has been definitely too calm considering how cooked you were. 

“Scott gonna kill us.” Though you weren’t sure who first, you because of loosing your virginity the second you got off his radar with a guy who you’ve meant to recruit, or Logan for fucking his little sister.

“Who’s Scott?” A confusion in his voice could be cute if not for your executioner being just two steps from the door. 

“He’s my-“ But then the door opened and you just sighed, pointing at Scott. “Him. Logan, this is my brother Scott.” You turned to face your sibling, forcing yourself to smile innocently. “Hi Scotty, how nice of you-“ 

“Out. Of. The fucking car. Now.” He ordered you, pure fury in his eyes, his voice dangerously heavy. “And you asshole… you better pray that Professor gets you before I will.” 

Well, this definitely will complicate the atmosphere in the team in the future… 

▏A/n: Okay, so this specific mutation and character's background (as Scott being her older brother) gonna be also part of the bigger fic that I'm currently working on. I don't know yet if this shot will be a part of their story (Logan and that oc) so that's why I'm posting it here now. Still I would be grateful if you guys wouldn't use that characters specifics in your stories <3

▏Also I just adore the thought of Scott being the protective older brother and it being the reason why his and Logan's relations are so tensed later.

▏If you wanna join my Logan's fics taglist check this post.

▏Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Sof

@california-boys-and-sun @r-oseie

[unreadablehandle]

I will probably repeat what was said by @theliteraryarchitect already. But maybe hearing it twice might help you, so... :)

I know the feeling you're describing very well. A few years back, I was at a point where I really enjoyed my creativity (meaning: what I could come up with in my mind), and then later having trouble with putting it on paper (because once I've read it, it felt like shit).

What helped me with that in a way that I can't press enough was fanfic.

Why?

Because firstly: it made me concentrate on the joy of creating as something that mattered the most.

And secondly: once I've read enough of fics ("well written" and "badly written"... while loving both for different reasons) and then even produced something myself (that I knew was not ideal AT ALL - but in the sake of "giving back" to the fandom in the best way I could, I felt like sharing it), I got people asking me to continue a started idea and voicing their excitement for it, which showed me that my silly tries to create could in fact brighten someone’s day, despite the fact that if I wasn't a validation seeking bitch, I would torture myself with polishing the first paragraph of an idea into like... Marcel Proust level of overdone and then I would give up, because it would not be exactly like Marcel Proust’s).

Fanfic helped me realize that it’s not discipline and high standards that get you through the finish line. No. These will only make you feel bad and trap you in a circle of begrudgingly loathing everything you do.

It’s in fact the love you give your work even when it’s shitty that makes you come back to it until it’s done.

So. The most important thing you have to have is not a whip upon yourself once you don't meet your standards - but joy from how you overcame that need for self punishment. Someone might say that I’m just saying something and that my writing isn't proceeding towards "the better" at all. However, I would dare to differ.

Maybe – as an exterior observer – you can't see any signs of it. That's a fair point. Nevertheless: I observe the bettering when I write!

Meaning: When you describe a person in whichever action for the first time, it's rather hard. You have to focus and (for a long time) think about all the movements, the body language, the speech... When you write it for the second time, it's still not flawless. You see the space you have to come up with something better, use more metaphors instead of plain descriptions... When you write for the third time, you analyse the mind of your hero more than what he’s doing, because you have already realized that the internal can reveal much more then the external... But only when you write it for the fifth time, that's when you really BEGIN to understand what you are writing. Phrases come easily to you and because you don't have to think about the obvious as before, that's when something good can be born!

In fact, I think that one cannot become good at writing without practice as a wader in his own shitty prose for some time.

Like. Every bad thing you write moves you forward. In fact, I believe that the best writers must have written the biggest amount of shitty things. The literary gems on their resumé are only the top of the iceberg, you see.

And that is a brutal fact.

DO NOT compare your level one to someone’s level ten.

DO NOT concentrate on your mistakes. Embrace and enjoy the phase of shitty writing. Create as much new things as you can before you know enough to get back to where you started. Because at the end of the day, it's the only ride you can take to the top of the hill.

PS: What I recommend (it works in my experience) is to start a notebook and when you read, write down phrases, expressions or words you liked and then later go back to them. Like that, you are expanding your range of expression by the way of love - not disdain. Honestly, I really think that's the only way it can work right. ;)

PPS: Being a writer is not a hundred meter race. It's a lifestyle in which you are working on growing into someone who can bend worlds with just a pen and paper - and that's hell of a work if you ask me. ...Worth every inconvenience, isn't it? :)

I don’t know if u still answer questions but I need some advice. My passion has always been writing simply because I have so many ideas and so many thoughts and I love creating stories (theoretically). Lately though I’ve hit this roadblock. I’ll never be able to write like the people I admire, because at the end of it all I feel like I’m not learning. I’ll reread my old stuff, point out and rework my mistakes, and still feel like I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t written anything for years because of this block and I feel like I’ll never improve and find the motivation to keep writing. I’ll never be like the greats with seemingly endless inspiration and talent. Ig my question is just… how do I improve? How do I finally feel satisfied with what I do? How do I love my writing again??

First off, I hear you. So many writers—especially the ones who care deeply—go through exactly this. You love storytelling in theory, but when it comes to writing, it feels like you’re stuck in a cycle of self-doubt and disappointment. That’s not a personal failing. That’s just what happens when your standards grow faster than your skills.

The mistake most writers make (and one I see repeated constantly) is thinking that learning = immediate improvement—as if you study the craft, tweak some mistakes, and suddenly level up. But writing doesn’t work like a skill tree in a video game. It’s messy, non-linear, and full of invisible growth. The work you put in today might not show results for months, or even years. And that’s frustrating as hell, but it’s also normal.

And the writers you admire? The ones who seem endlessly inspired and effortlessly talented? They aren’t immune to this feeling. The difference is, they write through it. They let themselves write badly. They embrace inefficiency. They trust that even their worst drafts are part of the process. AND (top secret info here)... frankly a lot of the big names have editors at their publishing houses that are practically doing ghostwriting work: fixing their mistakes, rewriting their stuff, or even composing sections for them so they can pump out the next bestseller in record time.

But here’s my advice: stop waiting to feel satisfied before you start writing again. You’re not going to think your way out of this. Improvement comes from doing. Let yourself write terribly, inconsistently, joyfully. Take the pressure off. And when your brain tells you it’s pointless, remind yourself: the only way to get better is to keep going.

You don’t need to be “one of the greats.” You just need to write.

Hope this helps, friend.

P.S. I get Asks like this so much that I'm actually working on a whole long book about it, since it's really more than I can handle in a short post. Stay tuned for details. xo

[in1-nutshell]

I think I am doing this right I have a request. It is about vampire buddy tfp. When she Mets the decepticons. I have a few ideas. One of them is that she has relationship with Airachnid. She doesn’t attack her or talk to her either it’s more like a relationship coworkers. Airachnid- buddy is that you how long has it been. Buddy-…….”waves happy” Another is that she stays away from megatron because of the dark energon inside of him. Another is how she meet breakdown Buddy- “drinking blood of an unconscious Vehicon”. Breakdown- walking by “WHAT THE SLAG IS THAT” start pointing at buddy Last one is that she is in escape experiment from shockwave. Starscream- “WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THAT!!!” Shockwave- because starscream she will eat and eat until she’s a mindless monster. Every day she will become hunger and hunger until she can’t think right. And she knows that so she will come here to long for something to prevent that. And when she takes the bait we strike”. I hope this ins’t to much and can you do something what you did last time. Like having each of their reactions to this please. Thank you for reading this request

Been a while since we've seen Vampire Con Buddy, lets see what she's doing!

Hope you enjoy!

Vampire Con Bot Buddy on the Nemesis

SFW, Platonic, Mention of Vampire activity, Mention of injuries, Mention of Stalking, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Alternative title: 3 Things Vampire Con Buddy has done on the Nemesis

1. ‘Manifest from the Shadows’

Buddy doesn’t have this ability… that she can confirm.

As far as she can tell, she can just be really still in the shadows, and it takes others a long time to figure out she was in the same room.

Most of the time it is not on purpose.

She is just very quiet and still when she isn’t on the hunt.

Though there are times that Buddy does leverage this edge.

Starscream is walking around the Nemesis. He looks around and sighs. No one is here. He turns to his left and a pair of red optics stare right back at him. Starscream: “GGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!” The Second in Command screams and runs away. Arachnid walks around the corner chuckling to herself as Buddy walks from the shadows. Arachnid: “Good work.” Buddy just nods as the spider passes them an energon cube. She makes a face while looking at Arachnid. Arachnid: “Take it or leave it.” Buddy grumbles and starts drinking the energon from the cube.

2. Kidnapping

Due to Buddy’s ‘peculiar’ tastes, she has a trouble time ingesting regular energon like most bots.

She found it must better consume it through the neck cables of other Cybertronians.

Normally, they would simply go out and search for a frame close by or an Autobot that wandered too far into Decepticon territory.

But since arriving on Earth, food sources have been scares.

Good thing Buddy had a backup plan.

She would go after some lower ranked Con’s and sip bit of their energon.

Never fully draining, they were still needed to fight.

Steve is walking with Breakdown. They notice a Vechicon slowly getting up from the floor with his servo on his helm. Breakdown: “Hey there, you alright?” The con shakes his helm and gives him a thumbs up. Steve spots two small holes on the cons neck cable. Steve: “Buddy got him.” Breakdown shudders. Breakdown: “If there’s one con here besides Arachnid that I hate its Buddy. With her creepy—” Buddy falls from the vents with energon covering part of her face. Breakdown, Steve and the other Vechicon: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

3. Stalking

One of Buddy’s habits.

For some strange reason, she would select one con at random and simply stalk them.

The Con could be in the air, Buddy is just a couple feet away.

The Con could be underwater, Buddy is on their left.

The Con could even be in deep space!

Buddy is never too far.

After a short period of time, she would select someone else to stalk and the cycle repeats.

Shockwave is in his lab. Buddy is a couple feet away just watching him. Starscream walks in, momentarily jumping at the sight of Buddy on the floor. Starscream: “How are you not affected by her being there?” Shockwave: “It would be illogical to feel that way. She has done nothing to cause me discomfort, thus, illogical to feel threaten.” Starscream huffs, his wings flaring a bit. Starscream: “…Word has it around the Nemesis that she is your creation Shockwave. Is that true? Is that logical?” Starscream’s taunting voice hitching at the last comment. Shockwave stops momentarily. Shockwave: “… Perhaps.” Starscream freezes. Starscream: “what?” Shockwave ignores him and hands him some data pads. Shockwave: “Lord Megatron requires these.” Starscream grumbles and walks out of the lab. Starscream: : “Megatron requires this… well I’ll show—GGGAAAAHHH!” He jumped noticing Buddy was following him now. Starscream: “No! No! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!”

[thistlecatfics]

In response to my post about Andromeda and Ted, @teddytonks asked about Andromeda hating Remus, and I do have thoughts!

[for ease, I'm writing this as if they’re all cis and use the same pronouns as they do in canon, but I do love my trans headcanons for this family]

One relevant question: does Andromeda find out Remus tried to leave Tonks? Very reasonable that she would never find out either because Tonks has the sense not to tell her or because Remus’s attempted running away was so short that Tonks herself is able to pretend like it never happened. BUT if she finds out???

Ted Tonks risked his life when he married Andromeda. He risked his life when she got pregnant. He was put in serious, active danger through those things (at least in their minds – I do love the hc that Bellatrix did protect them but I don’t think they would believe that). And he loved her enough that he was willing to risk so much for her! And to be her partner! And to parent Tonks! The courage it took. 

To find out that her child was pregnant and then the father literally ran away because he was scared??? Like truly. The rage. Her daughter deserves so much better. 

I absolutely think that Andromeda retained some of her prejudice from her upbringing – I just think it’s impossible to get rid of all of it. (Things like calling Tonks ‘Nymphadora’ when Tonks clearly has a preference for Tonks indicates a level of not necessarily respecting a child’s autonomy, among other things.) She absolutely would be prejudiced against a werewolf. 

A werewolf who is a decade older than her child? Poor is fine. Ted was poor. But a werewolf?? Not even a human??

I think you can argue that Remus’s self-loathing makes him not quite a reliable narrator about his own experience (he hates himself for being a werewolf and so he reads into everyone’s behavior that they feel the same), but I mostly trust him here:

“You don’t know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don’t you see what I’ve done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf?”

The tragedy is that they co-create this reality. 

Andromeda thinks less of him for being a werewolf. Remus thinks less of himself for being a werewolf (to say the least). Because of that, he behaves in ways that are attempts at self-protection (running away, trying to escape the possibility of, essentially at least in his mind, turning a child) BUT end up reaffirming the belief that werewolves aren’t trustworthy. That a werewolf could never be a good partner and good parent – because what if he runs away again? 

(which is one of my favorite interesting and awful things about how humans try to self-protect! In trying to avoid scary feelings, we tend to create more circumstances for those feelings! Eg drinking to avoid feeling shame -> feeling more shame about drinking. Avoiding responding to friends because in your loneliness you feel like they don’t like you -> fewer outreaches from friends, more loneliness etc.) 

(I also am now thinking about the sheer trauma of being turned as a child and how much that's being triggered by the possibility of passing down lycanthropy to a child! but that'll be a separate post of being bitten as a CSA metaphor.)

By contrast, Ted is, I think, much more tolerant of Remus (not having grown up with anti-werewolf prejudice) and also much more trusting of Tonks’s decision making for herself. I don’t think Ted is disgusted by Remus – but I do think Andromeda is. (To be fair to Remus, having someone who looks like Bellatrix as your mother-in-law feels like a particularly terrifying experience. Like even if he weren’t a werewolf, I could imagine feeling the intensity of ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter’ radiating off of her lol.)

Anyway. That’s why I think Andromeda is co-president of the “I hate Remus Lupin” club along with Snape lol.

Side note: If you're looking for some amazing Andromeda & Remus interactions, nothing beats @leftsidedown's The Grace Unasked For (18k, T, canon divergent).

[girldriveroscar]

"not that i even Go Here but u Kinda have to consider in the landolore of it all how he imprinted on Carlos and Danny in those late stage pubescent gay chicken trials.. like they made him feel small and Cute. GIRL AND NEITHER WERE EVEN THAT BIG but the energy of " you're the small one, you're the runt of the pack who we pick on" actually altered the chemistry in lando's brain."-- i think lando just has a bit of a competence kink and likes being the inexperienced one lol i think that's why when oscar won the sprint in 2023 he was the one who kept mentioning it, sure it hurt because his rookie teammate wasn't supposed to win anything before him, but i bet he was obsessed with the fact that oscar is good enough that he had the experience of winning in f1 before him. i also think this is part of the reason why he likes verstappen and is very genuine with his praise for the drivers 😃 i also think he likes that oscar is smarter than him 😶

THIS IS AN INTERESTING PERSPECTIVE! honestly I could totally understand this from the POV that his praise for others competence developed as a weird form of self assurance. like if max is so good,,,, and im against max then no matter the doubts in my head, the concrete fact remains that I'm performing at a high level and I deserve to be here. I think there's also an element of that comfort that's self sabotaging however, as rewarding himself the comfort of "good but not good enough" gives him this third space to relax from the outside pressure. similar to like... staying in a depressed spiral because its familiar and comfortable- even if it is miserable and you know its bad for you. its like accepting second place because answering the question of am I even capable of more? and finding that no, im not. would be soul crushing. now that's kinda dramatic I fully get that, and im not saying I don't think landos determined/confident I just personally see a pattern in his self criticism when he does start hammering on about other peoples skill or his lack thereof. when he starts getting all self hating/pitying its.... pretty obvious he's there for a minute before recouping. (ie. his post race side we saw on max's stream, his lack of selfies (whole other tangent on how his selfies are contingent on his race wins) and me too yk and me too. im not trying to like shame him LMAO I don't think he's weak, I think that's just like the objective truth that we saw last season and the reality of his ability to cope.

I think where that comfort gets flipped on its head is in comparison to Oscar. or if not specifically with Oscar, then with his teammate (or at the suggestion of a peer outperforming him under the same conditions). Does that Make sense? specifically it makes me think of lewis commenting, oh your car is fast, and him snapping back well you had a fast car once too. its the insinuation that when held to the same standard as another person, if his performance regardless of circumstance is not the extra 1% that keeps him ahead, then his self assurance crumbles and he suddenly needs to deflect/defend/get moody.

which leads into why I think it reaaaally ticks him off when Oscar performs better than him. he's not desperate with max and yet he planned to do it since Brazil with Oscar. say all you want about not caring abt sprint races but holding onto one swap to come back and make a point that you're emotionally and skillfully on par with your younger teammate... sure says something...

there enough plausible deniability for max to perform better regardless of personal skill. he's on a diff team, his environment is diff there's no certainty that its on performance alone that max wins, the sliver of separation there is what keeps him capable of praising max, esp when media rains down on him bc internally he's self justified to say yes max is good (but we aren't running in the same race). a compliment to max does not carry the weight of degradation to himself. but with Oscar.... with Oscar... the conditions are the same. and every gap stings extra because Oscar is younger and less experienced. annnnd as I said I think landos a bit toxic and he likes to press on his bruises for fun hence why he brings it up repeatedly- reopening the wound in a way that brings him immense guilty pleasure.

me pathologizing lando Norris's made up kinks right... right. tldr I think his prefrontal cortex brain hates Oscar doing well but his lizard brain enjoys it: performance wise Oscar puts him in his place (which people struggled to do all his life for rsn outside of his stature) its like Oscar saying. yes im better and not because im bigger its because im more talented than you. n that strokes the degrading part of him that wants to be belittled for something nobody else can take away from him. like for a guy who was Raised on the precedent of "small but mighty" yea anyone could call him small, but not everyone can make him actually feel small. when Oscar places above him, he feels small, and the submissive worm in his brain that enjoys squirming in self pity and pain lights up and rolls around.

[sleepy-symphony]

thinking about how atsushi is going to be after the current arc clears up...

asagiri better show that it affected him in some way or else I'm going to throw hands, because there's no way Atsushi is just going to walk away from that all with no severe trauma 😭

we all see how absolutely hysterical he is at the moment. Those panels of him sobbing and begging (and him screaming after Fyodor ripped the page) break my heart so bad. This is traumatizing shit!!! He just watched five people he cares about die right in front of him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Can you even imagine how much guilt he feels? That guilt is going to continue even when the arc is over, because while everyone is back (and i do 100% think everyone who died is coming back somehow), he still failed to save them in the first place.

He already has so much PTSD as it is, and while I do think that his hallucinations are going to clear up after this arc (based off of the latest chapter, it's probably going to be revealed that there's more to them than simple flashbacks), he is by no means going to be okay.

I'm not sure if Asagiri is going to explore the trauma of that very much, but if he does, I'd like to see it leaning one of three ways:

Atsushi becomes clingier with everyone or more dependent out of the fear of losing them again. Increased paranoia. He becomes hypervigilant in an attempt to deal with threats that aren't actually there.

Similar to what happened in s1 after the Black Lizard raid, Atsushi attempts to distance himself from everyone because he sees himself as the reason for their deaths. He has something akin to survivor's guilt even though everyone came back. I don't think he'd try to run away like he did in s1, but he might self-isolate heavily.

Complete shutdown. Atsushi is so emotionally and mentally exhausted from the ordeal that he becomes extremely apathetic. Depression. Lack of motivation. Heavy fatigue. An "invisible sickness".

The ways Atsushi could heal from each of these possible outcomes would be different, though I imagine there would be some similarities since there's a lot of overlap of "symptoms" between those three scenarios.

Now, while I wouldn't be super thrilled with this outcome, it would still be logical for Asagiri to have Atsushi walk away without bad residual trauma. And the reason why this could happen is that what's currently happening in the manga and the fight that it's leading up to is clearly intended to be a big character development for Atsushi. It seems very likely that there's going to be a large moment of clarity for him. In fact, we're probably going to see a big moment next chapter based off what was happening with his Dazai hallucination in the latest one.

I have my own theory for what's happening with these hallucinations, but regardless of what they actually are, Atsushi figuring them out is a big moment! And this battle against Fyodor is going to be another one! Atsushi is going to experience a lot of character development and there is a possibly that this newfound strength in himself will allow him to walk away from this all without serious trauma.

Like I said, I really hope he does get traumatized by this! But I feel like it's more likely that Asagiri is going to have him walk away stronger because of the self-discovery he's going to go through.

anyways, silly little atsushi ramble that's just my thoughts :)

[altraviolet]

Just reread the echo garden again and I must say that Soundwave’s character development throughout the story has been both beautiful and extraordinary! (Even I was proud of him)

There is something that I’ve been curious about tho. What if Soundwave somehow got the chance to reunite with his universes Megatron at some point after the events of TEG? What might a reunion between them look like?

Thanks for the reread! =D

This is a popular question! I've been asked several times: it's something people are definitely curious about.

I never had an answer because I always knew we wouldn't be going back to SW's dimension in the fic. And even if we did, his Megatron would be dead or altered beyond recognition, due to the internal logic of the universe. I never needed an answer. And it felt like it would be very complicated and Too Much Work to figure out.

Unsatisfying but true, lol.

But, okay, let's do a little mind experiment. Off the cuff. No prior planning. Let's say that, somehow, SW's Megatron is preserved and in a recognizable state, and that the last we saw of him in TFP is also true in universe. And for some reason, SW wants to go back. And for some reason, they've run into each other.

The last we saw of Megatron in TFP, iirc, he'd just been freed from subjugation under Galvatron, and he stated that he never wanted to feel like that again, and he would not do it to anyone else ever again.

So disregarding RiD2015 as any possible source of further characterization...

...I feel like this Megatron would avoid Soundwave and the other Decepticons for a long time. He really sounded like he wanted a Very Long Time Out. His character change was stark, in those last few on screen moments, and there isn't much to go off of, regarding what New Directions he would head down.

He had a very calm air about him when he said it... but he's not an innately calm character. He's been driven by anger for a long time. He had expectations of being fully obeyed for a long time. He has just been handed the reveal of his life: that everything he did was extremely awful and he's only learned that because it happened to him.

So we have a character in an unknown state. How much growth will there actually be? Or will there be a backlash, a backslide into something similar to what he was before? There are no real answers (as far as I know of, in canon), so this becomes the domain of the fic writer.

And that's what I mean when I say this sounds like Too Much Work xD How do I proceed with an arc that feels Megatron-y, doesn't copy any other arcs we've seen, feels authentic to the character and world... what happens when you push a character to the destruction of their core values? How do they build themselves up again?

I don't know :D I'd have to rewatch TFP and then sit and think about it for a long time, and I'm not interested in doing that. I see several courses his arc could take, but I'm not sure which one is the most 'authentic.'

But, okay, people keep asking me.

Let's say TFP Megatron has been scrounging around, somewhat pathetically, on Cybertron (I honestly don't remember what state Cybertron was left in, at the end of TFP, but we're far into the future so uhhhhhh idk it's rebuilding), and our main characters meet because SW has returned to his home dimension for supplies. I assume SW would be accompanied by a few friends, probably including Rodimus.

There'd be some kind of first contact scene, but the thing the readers most want to see is SW and Megatron alone, so we'd have to plot for Rodimus & friends to go somewhere else (be amenable to giving them alone time, or get distracted by something, etc). So now we have SW and Megatron. And they're staring at each other.

SW is looking at the mech who destroyed him, rebuilt him, and then used him for millions of years.

Megatron is looking at the ultimate example of his tyrannic rule: a mech he shaped into a perfect servant.

SW sees Megatron as a pitiful thing, obviously living off scraps [since in this character arc branch we won't let him backslide into dark energon use or his tyrannical tendencies], obviously alone and doing terribly.

Megatron sees SW as a faded and scratched up, but obviously healthy mech, who initially arrived with allies. Allies who wear the Autobrand.

What next?

Well... I don't know. I'm going to give you some possible reactions Megatron has to this:

-immediately starts calculating how he can use Soundwave to his advantage. this Megatron IS clever enough, in my opinion, to possibly recognize that SW's associates are not Of This Universe. perhaps, he thinks, he can appeal to SW's loyal nature

-truly feels sorry for what he did to SW: either does or does not know how to apologize for it

-"Even you, Soundwave?" though Megatron has sworn off his old ways, he's still disappointed that his most loyal soldier has switched sides. it's a reminder of his own weakness and failure. he couldn't even keep Soundwave loyal

Some possible reactions SW has to seeing Megatron:

-!!!

-correctly recognizing him as the pitiful figure he is, and perhaps even going so far as to identify with the long process Megatron has ahead of him for healing, should Megatron even be able to find people to help him through it

-anger. despite the pitiful appearance, Megatron still did bad things, and unlike 0001 Megatron, never apologized or made any amends

-perhaps the most biting response: SW could look at Megatron for a moment and then just walk away. maybe Megatron calls out to him, but he keeps going. he lets Megatron see that he's healthy and thriving, and that he doesn't need Megatron, and that he doesn't care about him. he doesn't even need or want an apology, or any kind of response. he assesses and moves on, like Megatron is just another piece of scrap

or, of course

-some kind of hilariously inappropriate troll response, lol.

so yeah. as you can see, anon, there are quite a few ways things could go. there's an infinite number of ways things could go!

the way you choose which thing to do would depend on what you want the story to say. is there some kind of message about forgiveness? or is the message that there are some things you just can't forgive, and so you must move on for your own sense of self and preservation? cut ties, and so forth

and so that's the answer: there are too many answers and I'm not particularly interested, at this time, in figuring out which one is the best. I always say, hey, you never know: if I ever do feel like writing out this scene, I will

hope you enjoyed ✨

[shizuturnspages]

This month is February, how would the Yandere react to seeing that reader child khaenri'ah (could it be teenagers?) receives (questionable) love letters and gifts

To Love a Ghost

Synopsis: A Khaenri’ahn teenager. Independent. Smart. Dangerous. Yet somehow, you were still young enough for fools to believe they could court you. Love letters. Secret gifts. Confessions. Your admirers must have been either exceptionally brave… or exceptionally stupid. Because your so-called family? They would never allow it. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, Capitano x Khaenri'ahn Child

Dainsleif – The Guardian Who Knows Too Much

"You are too young to understand the dangers of love."

Dainsleif doesn’t take the letters. Doesn’t destroy them.

Instead, he reads them. Analyses them.

And then he stares at you.

You don’t need words to understand his thoughts.

“Who dares to court you?” “Do you even know what love is?” “Will you truly trust a stranger over me?”

But his voice is gentle when he speaks.

"Love is not for people like us."

He doesn’t say it harshly. He says it like a fact.

Like something he’s always known.

Like something he doesn’t want you to learn the hard way.

Pierro – The Grandfather Who Decides Your Future

"Khaenri’ah’s last heir… reduced to this foolishness?"

Pierro does not get angry.

He gets disappointed.

You, the last child of Khaenri’ah. You, the final hope of a lost nation—

And you waste your time on meaningless affections?

You see only letters and gifts.

He sees manipulation and deceit.

And so, with a sigh, he sets the letters aside. And he asks:

"Tell me, child. Do you truly believe they love you?"

And you?

You cannot answer.

Because you know that no one loves Khaenri’ah’s ghosts.

Kaeya – The Overprotective Brother Who Plays Dirty

"Tsk. I almost feel bad for them."

Kaeya doesn’t steal the letters.

He doesn’t scold you.

No.

Kaeya laughs.

Because, really—how pathetic were your admirers?

Did they truly believe they could have you?

Kaeya doesn’t need to forbid you from seeing them.

Because by the next day?

Your admirer has disappeared.

And Kaeya?

He just smiles and says, “It seems they had a change of heart.”

And if you look closely—if you truly pay attention—

You might see the blood on his gloves.

Albedo – The Scientist Who Dissects Love

"Love? A fascinating emotion. Shall we analyse it together?"

Albedo doesn’t react with anger.

He reacts with curiosity.

What was it about you that made others fall in love?

Your Khaenri’ahn lineage? Your power? Your existence?

So, he sits beside you. Takes the letter from your hands. Reads it.

"These words hold no weight. They are empty."

"Do you see how they mimic poetry? How they appeal to emotion rather than reason?"

"Love is an experiment. An equation. And this? This is nothing but a false hypothesis."

And just like that—your admiration for the letter fades.

Because if love was just an illusion—

Why would you ever chase it?

Capitano – The Warlord Who Decides Your Fate

"A soldier does not need distractions. They need discipline."

A letter? Burned. A gift? Thrown away. A suitor? Dead— or worse.

Capitano does not tolerate weakness. And love? Love makes a person weak.

Did you really think you could keep a secret from him? Did you think the letters hidden beneath your pillow would go unnoticed?

Foolish.

He does not speak of it. He does not scold you.

But the next day?

You find your admirer missing.

And Capitano?

He only says, “Focus on your training.”

Because love is a luxury you will never have.

[whereistim]

A short thought experiment on Robin and what growing up means for the future of Batman.

I’m gonna level with you all I have some thoughts. I’ve heard that Damian is stepping down as Robin and in doing so that has meant there’s been a wave of people crying out for Tim to do so to.

And in essence I understand the argument, Damian is ‘growing up’ and leaving the Robin mantle is a literacy device of that. Some people don’t think the writers will commit to that and I’m inclined to agree tbh but I digress.

There’s a part of me that just disagrees with that notion however of leaving the Robin mantle= growing up, for all of the past Robins. Full disclosure, understand I am not an avid follower of the most recent comics so I do not know the nuances of these runs and the complicities of the current batfamily standing. But nor am I completely outside the loop.

Dick Grayson left the Robin mantle when he wanted to break away from Bruce. Jason in essence was the same, he wanted to separate himself from the idea of Batman, as a villain (initially). Steph I would be hesitant to even add as her go at it was full of conflict between her and Bruce, and she quickly attached herself to Babs’s side of the operation to get away from that conflict.

Damian for all that he has been trained for standing besides his father, quite simply wasn’t really given the choice. And I really like the idea of him deciding for himself to pursue his own interests. Not his fathers, not his mothers and not his grandfathers. I think it’s a perfect end of a narrative for him. (Which isn’t to say I don’t ever want to see him again). But in literacy terms it really feels neat.

Whereas I argue what does Tim gain from stepping away from Robin?

Not to say his and Bruce’s relationship is perfect, nor his Robin with Batman but he’s proven time and time again to be a quite fantastic partner for him, a foil in a sense. And this idea that Tim wasn’t a sidekick, wasn’t a son but a partner was a big message in the 90’s.

One of Tim’s first conflict points with Batman ends with this argument.

Batman needs a Robin. And Tim was the person to step up.

You take away Robin and in a Doylist sense you lose the relatable character in this whole shtick bit there’s an argument they’ve lost that thread a while ago. Damian for all his growth was not all that relatable (especially to begin with). But this key message of Tim’s standing is reduced to dust without a Robin (which isn’t really that important I guess but the symbolism does have some standing and I like it).

And what are they gonna introduce another Robin? The thought of adding another character to an already too dense character list fills me with dread. They can’t handle what they’ve got now.

What exactly would Tim grow into? Another bird moniker?? Because I guess he still could be partner under another name but I just can’t really get my head around a bird name I like, I quite frankly think they all sound a bit silly. The imagery of a Bat and a Bird is just ridiculous and for all they try and justify it as ‘bobbin along’ or ‘for the colours of Dick Graysons uniform’ I think it was a stupid name to chose. (If anyone can give me a clue as to why they decided on Robin pls inform me). The only reason I let it slide is because it’s simply too stuck to change it and has become a part of iconic comic history.

In the days of old where there was no social media and Batman was a myth, Robin the kid served the purpose in a Watsonian sense to ease victims, the non-threatening image of a child could achieve what the spooky Bat couldn’t. But as well-known as they are at present, that reasoning has simply broken down for all reasons except subconsciously in some circumstances.

Tim as Robin as a grown up can still do what Robin was intended for, at least his Robin. Being another pair of hands, a person to bounce ideas off and to offer his own and most importantly stand up to Bruce and Batman.

So really I guess the question is- is Robin simply too associated with being a kid for you to ever see it belonging to an adult? It’s not exactly a name with connotations of children like Wonder Girl or Kid Flash. But I would understand if that is the case for a lot of people.

And also I agree that they don’t know what to do with Tim, I think quite simply because Damian was there. Ergo letting Damian splinter off could be beneficial to the narrative of Batman & Robin in regards to Tim.

If you do think Tim should also leave the mantle what headcanons do you have? I wouldn’t be opposed to him hanging out more with Dick again, if he decided to keep the bird names alive. I like the idea of him finding a city and becoming his own sort of detective but that goes against my image of Tim- Gotham born and raised and widely intertwined with it, kinda like Bruce. It’s his home.

If anyone wants to voice out there thoughts please go ahead! I might not respond nor might I agree but I love hearing peoples analysis about characters I love. I find it all so fascinating what people take away from stories, and how they differ from my own.

However I won’t appreciate someone telling me my understandings are stupid or so inconceivably wrong (not without some very solid and well thought out points). picture the change my mind meme. People are allowed their own opinions especially when it comes to art and stories. Even if they don’t match your ideas doesn’t mean they are wrong.

[oh-no-its-bird]

your uchiha houhua au is living in my brain rent free....im sleep deprived today bc i was reading/thinking about it late last night lol, its so good!!

after the massacre he would essentially be sasuke's guardian, right? maybe not officially but still, he'd be in charge of sasuke as the only older family around? idk if he'd be a GOOD guardian but i can see his paranoid ass just always handing sasuke more weapons and money, just in case

i need to know more about sasuke finding out about houhua and itachi's thing for each other!! and does sasuke still end up going to orochimaru in this au?

YEAHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT !!! Uchiha Houhua remains one of The Favorites(tm) I really need to finish writing chapter 1, I'm like. So so close. So close.

I also need to update my tumblr vault fic with all the more recent Houhua au posts, since theres been a good amount of new content, but I'm putting it off till I'm done writing chapter 1 for the actual fic

No but I'm honored it could take up space in ur brain !!

YES! After the massacre, Houhua basically becomes Sasuke's officially unofficial guardian. There's no real paperwork for it done, but like, they really only have eachother

Sasuke flocks to him as the only other Uchiha, and Houhua takes him in both out of pity + not wanting him to be alone, and also partially because he knows Sasuke is a main character and his survival heavily depends on sticking close to main characters in the hopes that it'll help bump his character importance points

Houhua and Sasuke are stupidly rich now just because all of the Uchiha belongings and funds are theirs now.

There's a bit of trickiness bc technically, most of it should go specifically to Sasuke (as he's now default clan heir, though that isn't exactly worth much now) but Houhua is older than him

Houhua will probably end up splitting things between them, and Sasuke will trust him enough to do it (+ be too young to really realize that's something as important as it really is)

I think in canon, and lot of Uchiha shit got stolen or went ""missing"" in their death, mostly bc Sasuke... wouldn't know what to watch out for / prevent people from trying to take. But with Houhua here, it's going to be way hard for anyone to do any sort of grave robbing

Houhua is absoloutley gonna be taking inventory and his past life's experience means he knows to be on guard for people looting the compound when he's not looking !! There might even be some fun drama w that in the future ,,,

Houhua is stuffing weapons and money into Sasuke's pockets, very much fussing over him every chance he gets.

(Because Sasuke is his meal ticket!! He insists to himself, going out of his way to demolish anyone who looks at Sasuke even a little bit funny)

I honestly think Houhua would make for a good guardian for Sasuke overall, tho he'd for sure have his faults. The key word here is 'guardian', not anything like a father— Sasuke is gonna end up seeing Houhua as his (new, better, real) big brother over shitty Itachi over there

Houhua, as Shang Qinghua, lived to be very old (for a human, not for a cultivator) and had a hand in raising and training many disciples.

I like to reference Pride Is Not The Word I'm Looking For (aka the single best Shang Qinghua fic of all time) for my characterization for him, so he's like. Genuinley a good teacher and uncle, when he tries to be. He is just also burdened with crippling self doubt and likes to insist that every nice thing he does is canceled out by his own selfish reasoning behind doing those nice things

In Naruto world especially, filled with shitty murderous parents and a government that churns out murder babies, I think Houhua will be winning awards in his own parenting skills

Then there's also the fact that Houhua did know and interact with Sasuke before the massacre, just not too often. He was Itachi's weird cry baby friend, he'd hang out with him sometime

They just were never really close, and never really got to interact 1 on 1 for long— till, ofc, the massacre happens, and now Sasuke is latching on to Houhua and hyperventalating if anyone so much as looks like they're going to try and separate them

Houhua's existence as a whole allows Sasuke to be a lot more vulnerable, both because he is not "the last Uchiha" and also because Houhua will no doubt try to piggy back off of his revenge quest or even try to steal it entirely (to try and become a more important character, he insists to himself)

So Sasuke is just. Nowhere near as alone as before. And Houhua's own relationship with Itachi helps Sasuke believe Houhua might get it... more than other people, at least.

Ofc, there's also conflict in Sasuke maybe not thinking Houhua gets it "enough", or like Sasuke himself does, because Sasuke was, ofc, Itachi's little brother.

^ I think that would inevitably come in to play later, when Sasuke realizes Itachi and Houhua might have feelings for eachother. Sasuke would be so fucking hurt and feel so fucking betrayed, believing that maybe Houhua never "got it" to begin with

Things get even more complicated depending on when Sasuke learns this tho, because eventually Houhua is going to share his suspicions about the massacre being not as simple as it looked. So Sasuke's own feelings on Itachi are gonna go on a roller coaster of their own, trying to figure out if he himself can or should forgive his brother or no

Its all just a mess tbh, I love to see it

I HONESTLY DUNNO IF SASUKE WILL GO WITH OROCHIMARU OR NOT !! On one hand, mmmayybe ,,,, if he does, Houhua will go with him, full stop.

But there's also a chance that Houhua might try to take his place too! And he and Orochimaru are inevitably going to interact eventually, bc I have plans ,,,

(I mentioned it in another post, but if Houhua ever shares about the system and his past life with literally anyone, I would choose Orochimaru to find out. I think I could get the most milage out of him, and Orochimaru would absoloutley try to hack into the system for immortality and power or some shit)

I think whatever route I go with w Orochimaru will just depend on what I'm feeling when I get to that point in writing the fic. We will have to see where the story naturally leads me, you know? All of the options are so good, so it's hard to choose

ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASK !!! I love Houhua au so much, I think its so much fun. Ur ask actually reminded me I really have to keep writing chapter 1, so this has kind of spurred me on to go do that

Hopefully I finish and post it soon!

[coffeebanana]

okay but what if. video game designer marinette...

[tomialtooth]

Adler is a dog guy because he loves the obidence, affection and deference dogs show their masters regardless of how they are treated. A dogs owner is their entire world, they are reliant on them for everything and this is probably appealing for Adler and his need for control. Having a dog strokes his ego both because a dog is obedient and affectionate to it's master, which Adler thinks he is owed and because it affirms his sense of American masculinity. Adler would be one of those dog people that hate cats because you have to respect a cat's boundaries in order for it to love you and you can't control them like you can dogs. Adler likes Bell for the same reason he likes dogs.