#ruthless sass

[quotesfromscripture]

You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe -- and shudder. Do you want to be shown, you shallow man, that faith apart from works is barren? Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by works.

James 2:19-22 RSV (1971)

[kxllerblond]

uh oh besties found an example of how scary business clark can be when you cross him in a personal sense uh ohhhhh

[luna-loveboop]

Sky: yeah? Your point is?

Sky: Am I late?

🌹

“You,” Dark Link snarled when he caught sight of Sky. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

[just-a-fluffy-knight]

Little Sass Factory

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: canon typical language, Logan being ruthless and Wade being a teasy asshole

A/N: LETS GOOO DEADPOOL AND WOLVIE FIC‼️‼️ I’ve been wanting to write for these guys ever since I saw the movie y’all have no idea I am so obsessed with them right now 😞 AND A PLUS BEING THIS DOESNT NECESSARILY SPOIL THE MOVIE SOOOO YALL CAN READ IT 🙌🏻🙌🏻

I really hope y’all like this bc I cannot stop thinking about them and yapping about them to my buddies 😭🙏🏻 Like as much as I’d love to wreck these two, I cannot stop thinking about them as a ler duo so have this :]

OKAY HAVE FUN READING YALL 🫂❤️

Tag List: @prairleedog (THANKS FOR THE TITLE INSPO POOKALOOKS 🙏🏻❤️) @kittenwhiskers @cherry-bomb-blush

“Y’know what? I’m actually real excited for this! Moony has been wanting to write a thing with us for a while now! Good on her for pushing through the writers block, that shit sucks ass.”

“…What the hell are you talking about?! We’re looking for the kid, remember!?”

And that they were. They’d been scouring the apartment for like… six minutes now trying to find you. But somehow, you’d been able to consistently switch hiding spots without them noticing.

How? They had no clue. The pair wouldn’t have been surprised discovering you were also some kind of mutant but with advanced sneakiness, if that was even a thing.

Wade was actually having a bit of fun with this, whereas Logan… he was getting pretty pissed. More so than usual.

“Kid, I swear to god, if you don’t show yourself in ten goddamn seconds, I WILL start tearing this fucking place down!”

Logan crouched, his claws instantly coming out, making Wade panic.

“Woaaah, woah, woah, woah! Easy, Peanut, we’re trying to find ‘em! Not kill them, which may sound a little rich coming from me-“

“I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to be angry. The kid decided to pull that shit on us and then split. And now we can’t find ‘em.” The older man growled, his claws retracting back into his hands.

“And this is the moment we start working together!” Wade announced, an arm slung around Logan’s shoulder that most likely would’ve been sliced if he hadn’t allowed the latter to shrug it off in annoyance.

However, Logan swiftly turned at the sound of a noise nearby, his eyebrow raising as he went to check it out, leaving Wade to keep rambling about nonsense he didn’t understand.

“God, where’s Peter Parker when you need him?? Actually, I don’t think I’d mind a lil bit of Miguel O’hara…” Wade let out a long whistle.

“…Ah wait, he doesn’t have that Spidey-Tingle , fUCK-!”

The merc suddenly yelped as he was grabbed by his collar, being yanked towards where Logan was moving.

Meanwhile, you were curled up, both hands over your mouth as you tried to shut yourself up, anxious titters threatening to give yourself away.

You mentally berated that stupid floorboard that just had to creak at the slightest bit of goddamn pressure.

“Ohhh, Y/NNNNN! Come on out now, we’re not gonna hurt ya!”

The sound of the merc’s goofy teasing made you snicker even more, but when you heard how close Logan’s voice was to the closet, you froze.

“Why the hell do you have to talk like that?”

“Whaaat? It turns up the fun knob a little bit! And I know they can hear meeeee!” Wade crooned in that same sing-song tone, followed by an unamused huff from Logan.

“We’re gonna getcha, we’re gonna getchaaaa!”

God, could they just get out the room?? You had to throw them off again and fast. During your panicked inner monologue, you were soon met with… silence.

You relaxed, knowing you must’ve had an opportunity.

…At least you did until you realised something. When the hell is it ever quiet when those two are together?

Then, you heard a hushed voice coming from outside the closet door.

“Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for…”

…Oh, fuck.

Without warning, the closet doors were swung open by Wade, and the merc jokingly vocalised (very off-key too) while throwing his arms up with a flourish.

“WOOOAAAAAH!”

As you yelped in fear and dashed out the closet, Wade laughed and made a glance towards… well, air.

“If ya know, ya know!”

You quickly slipped past Wade, also laughing as you ran out the door to the room you’d been hiding in.

“Yohou’ll never take me al- ACK-!”

You yelped again as two strong arms wrapped around your torso, hoisting you up and off the floor.

…Shit.

“And just where do you think you’re goin, bub?”

“Wait, wahahait! Logan, hohold on-“

“No no no no no, I’m not waiting for anything.” Logan interrupted, carrying you back into the bedroom. “Not after you pulled that shit.”

“Oh, whahat? A little bit of water?”

“I wouldn’t say the rubber band on the sink trick counts as a little bit of water, Y/N.” Wade snickered, crossing his arms and smiling proudly at the fact you’d been caught.

“Come ohon, it wasn’t that bahAD-!” You yelped again as you were tossed onto the bed, still giggling. “Whahat’s the matter? Couldn’t shake the water off, kitty cat?”

The older hero scowled threateningly at you, ignoring Wade who sniggered at the joking insult.

“What?”

“You heheard me!”

Just as Logan was about to full on lunge towards you, Wade grabbed him.

“Hey, hey! Easy now, boy.” The merc spoke like he was talking to a feral dog, making Logan glare at him and growl.

“God, what now?”

“We gotta approach slowly! It builds up anticipation…” As Wade spoke, he began slowly approaching, carefully clambering onto the bed. “And proves to this little prankster how royally fucked they are!”

And it was working. Your giggles soon turned nervous, and you curled up, attempting to shy away from Wade (but not actually putting a lot of effort into getting away, much to Logan’s surprise and Wade’s amusement).

“And theeeen I’m juuust gonnaaaaaa…”

Suddenly, the merc’s arms swiftly looped under your own, lifting and leaving your, well, everything pretty much exposed and unable to be protected.

“Go on, boy! Gettem! Gettem, boy!”

Logan’s fury was way too fuelled by Wade’s stupid comments to even allow you to get a word in edgeways, instantly lunging forwards before digging and vibrating his claw-shaped hands right into your ribs.

“OhoH SHIHIHIT-! L-Logan, gehet OHOHOFF-!” A squeal left your mouth as you burst into frantic giggles and tried to kick, only for the older man to firmly shove right back at your legs, rendering you unable to fight back.

“God, will you just- quit the kicking?” Logan growled, a surprising air of playfulness behind it as he shot his hands right down to your thighs, firmly kneading there.

Despite already squealing your ass off, you couldn’t help but make a quip.

“Mahahaking biscuits reheally isn’t gonna hehehelp you beat the kitty allegahations, buhud-!”

Another low grumble filled the room, before Logan turned his head to Wade.

“Shut the kid up.”

“Roger that!”

Wade did a dumb salute before unhooking his arms from under yours to wiggle his fingers right into your armpits.

“Getchagetchagetcha!”

“AAAAHHHHHAHA DAMMIHIHIT-!” You practically shrieked, your giggles instantly shifting into full blown laughter as you pinned your elbows to your ribs, trying to squirm away but failing thanks to that iron grip Logan had on your legs.

“Ooh! I think I got a killer spot here, Logan!”

“Hmph, that’s nothin. Watch this.”

Logan earned another screech by mercilessly drilling his thumbs into your hips, making you buck instinctively and cackle uncontrollably.

“Nuh-uh! Armpits are the killer!” Wade protested, the merc speeding up his tickles on your underarms.

“Fat chance! They’re like a banshee when you get ‘em here!”

You wanted to protest, but all you could focus on were those hands attacking your weak spots.

Eventually, you felt them thankfully let up.

…For now, anyway.

“Now, Y/N. There is a way we can squash this beef, y’know.”

Logan sighed at Wade’s words, never understanding this ridiculous slang he dropped into conversation like it was nothing.

“Maybe a simple phrase such as… ‘I’m sorry?’”

“I can do one better.” Logan interrupted. “How about ‘I’m sorry I was a jabbering little sass factory who had the audacity to pull a dumb fuckin prank on people who didn’t do jack?’”

While catching your breath, you sealed what was basically your death wish.

“Oh, yeheah, Captain Caveman? Wheheres your helicopter cluhub, you gonna hit mehe with it?”

Logan fell silent again… while Wade couldn’t help but let out a wheeze at the quip.

“Ohoh, my god! Baby’s first character comparison joke, I’ve taught you so well..!” Wade sniffed dramatically, wiping a fake tear of proudness from the corner of his eye.

However, he froze once he heard you mutter something else.

“Thahat’s right, Mr Clehean-“

A strong gasp of offence left the merc as he placed a hand on his chest, while Logan gave him a smug look at not being the only one who was insulted.

“I beg your finest fucking pardon?! You think that’s any way to talk to Marvel Jesus and his very hairy disciple here!?”

Logan gave Wade another unamused glare.

“Y’know what?”

Wade then swiftly grabbed you again.

“Give ‘em the whiskers, Peanut!”

“They’re not whiskers, they’re muttonchops, you dumb fuck.”

“Same thing! Or shall I pull the move and do a much better job as always?”

The older man snarled, lowering his head down.

“I’ll show you who does it better, asshole…”

“Okay, wait, wahait-! W-What mohove is thiHIHIS-?!”

You cut yourself off with yet another shriek as Logan suddenly blew a giant raspberry right against your stomach, the added sensations that his facial hair provided making you near silent laughter.

It was clear that Logan was basically taking out all his pent up annoyance at Wade on you, and good god it tickled super bad.

And Wade? He was being no help either, as usual.

“Awww, wook at the giggwy wittle baby! Are the Badger Berries making their tummy all tickly? And are they having the time of their life? Yes, they are! Yes, they aaare!”

…Asshole. (Even if he was right.)

You did pride yourself on lasting about five raspberries (Wade could only ever really handle two), but you eventually had to tap your hand against one of Wade’s arms that were still hooked under yours.

“Okahay, Logan. Give em a rest.”

Despite his annoyed hesitance, Logan leant back up, allowing you to get your breath back in shaky pants.

“Geheez… you twoho are juhuhust..!”

“We’re waiting, kid.”

The older man interrupted, giving you a playful but threatening look.

“Fihine… I-I’m sohorry..!” You sighed, your face red as anything as you blinked away little tears that had pricked in the corners of your eyes.

“There we go! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Wade teased, resting his chin on your shoulder, in which you just rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, we better get ready for round two, huh?”

…Uh oh.

“WHAT?! B-Buhut I apologised!”

Wade did a pretend ‘apologetic asshole’ wince.

“Yeah… but this attack was more only to get you to apologise. This one is to actually teach you a lesson!”

“But thahat’s bullshit-!”

“Well, it’s a good thing we don’t give a fuck.”

Logan shared a look of pure mischief with Wade.

“Let’s gettem.”

And just like that, you were screaming and laughing the apartment down once more, as Logan nuzzled his furry face right into your belly again, pretending to eat it and growling playfully while Wade wrapped his arms around you and blew a raspberry right into the crook of your neck.

Yeah… you were gonna be here for a while.

[peachesofteal]

Leave

Part two the Sassy Series but can be read as a standalone.

Simon Riley/female reader 3.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Angst, PTSD, canon typical violence, bombs, blood and injury. Smut, oral sex - fem receiving, praise kink, creampie. Unplanned pregnancy. Everyone is bad at feelings. He's like a bomb. Note: This was never posted to Tumblr, so in honor of the series and to complete the masterlist I decided to clean it up a bit and bring it over here.

The truck is a silent tomb.

Rigid, hard lines of muscle hold themselves still without quiver, eyes darting from the road to the floor, hands to feet. No one speaks. Soap’s fingers tap restlessly on his leg, and occasionally, he peeks around before refocusing his vision on something in the distance, something you’re not even sure exists.

The only one really looking at anyone, is Ghost. He’s staring daggers at you in the rearview mirror, fire blazing in his irises, heat so intense it forces your head down towards your knees. Even Gaz looks away from you now, occasionally nudging his thigh against your own, but keeping his gaze fixed out the window.

You’re fucked.

Simon explodes as soon as you’re all unloaded inside the gates. He detonates like a bomb, raw fury rippling through the air, impact radius large enough that it sends nearly everyone else scurrying. “Sass.” Your call sign is rough on his lips. He motions for you to step away, forcing you out from where you’re lurking close to Soap, rage, and something else, something secret, simmering beneath the surface, something you barely glean a glimpse of when he towers over you.

“Ghost. Listen-“ you hiss, fingers flying to push his hulking body away, anger boiling in your blood. He scoffs, like you’re so easily dismissed. Like you’re a child.

“You’re losin’ it Sass. I don’t know, and I don’t care how you used to operate, but we don’t pull shit like that in the 141.”

“Fuck you, Sim-“

“Don’t use my name right now.” The paint around his eyes is cracked, revealing small swaths of skin, the crinkle of crow’s feet. “You had no idea what you were doing out there!” He yells, and you snap backwards instinctively. “You were operating blind, like a fuckin’ idiot. Cap, and everyone else, seems to think you’re a world class operator but today all I saw was stupidity. Are you stupid, Sass?” His raised voice has captured Soap’s attention, who drifts closer and closer to where the two of stand. “I asked you a question.” Ghost snaps, and you want to melt into the ground.

“No.” you whisper. It’s too much. This is too much. 

“Then why would you do something like that?” He snarls, and you shy away. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him ruthless, cold blooded, laser focused on target. You’ve watched him shove a pistol in another man’s eye socket and pull the trigger, torture someone, and in the same breath, turn around and save a child from a burning building.

But you’ve never seen this. Gunpowder and rage. Metal and carnage.

You’re about to ask him what the hell his problem is when Soap steps between you both, hand out towards Ghost like he’s trying to gentle a scared animal.

“Take it easy, LT.” You use the distraction to make your escape before he can see the tears that are trying slip down your face.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. 

“D’ye wan’ talk about it?” Soap sits with a thud next you, soft blue eyes shining in the setting sun.

“I think you got the gist.”

“LT can be kind of intense, but don’t take it personally.”

Don’t take it personally. 

Don’t take it personally that last week he was shoving his cock down your throat, telling you how good you were. 

Don’t take it personally that last week, when you woke up sweating and shaking, he pressed his face to yours with a whisper. “Just a nightmare Sass, I’ve got you.”

Don’t take it personally, that five, six months ago in Belize, he was screaming in a field medic’s face, promising to hurt them if you died. 

Don’t take it personally. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shrugs, slapping you on the back playfully.

“Get some sleep, lass.” Across the gap between two tents, Price and Ghost stand with their arms crossed, murmured words drifting on the wind.

Price glances at you. His mouth moves. Ghost nods, and then leaves.

Great. 

A day passes, then another.

Then a week, then two.

Ghost- Simon, vanishes from your life. Evacuates whenever he sees you coming. At first, you tried to run him down, tried to corner him, get him to talk to you, but he’s too smart, applying his tactical prowess to his new mission: avoiding you at all costs.

One day, you catch sight of his retreating back around a corner and sprint after him, calling his name, not his call sign.

He ignores you.

He’s not Simon anymore, at least not to you. He’s Ghost.

You give up. You have enough sense to know when you’re not wanted.

“Sassafrass!” Johnny gleefully calls out as you duck into the ten for the briefing. Ghost tenses like he’s just stepped on a landmine, but you roll your eyes. Dickhead. You position yourself as far away from him as possible, just to the right of Soap, out of view.

He doesn’t even look at you anymore, anyway. Not like it matters. 

“It’s an easy extraction, get in, grab the target, get out. Don’t over complicate it.” You nod your understanding, and Price gives you a smile. “Sassy, you and Soap will tackle the southeast side of the building from the back door. Gaz and Ghost will come through north. We’ll meet in the middle.” Again, you nod, and Soap grins at you like a goofy faced teenager. “Alright. Let’s load up.” You shimmy your backpack high above your hips and roll your shoulders, partially listening to your partner’s excited, halfcocked thesis on entry tactics.

It's the behavior that catches your attention. The guy looks nervous, skin gleaming with the sickly sheen of anxious sweat, tense and poised, like he’s waiting for something.

You’ve seen it before. Too many times.

“Soap.” You whisper. Your tone is dead serious, and he turns with a question in his eye.

“What’s got ye spooked?” Your gaze flicks over to the guy you’ve flagged. You shake your head, just as your target is swinging his backpack around and unzipping the top pouch.

You try to warn Soap.

You press your comm and try to tell the 141.

You manage to do neither before the world explodes.

Your eyes open to pandemonium. People are screaming. Kids are crying. You can hardly see, debris and smoke from the explosion making your eyes water and practically blotting out the sun.

There’s blood on your face.

Everyone is scattered. The screaming echoes around you, mirroring the screaming in your mind.

Where are you? 

Your comm’s been knocked loose. Your gun is gone.

Your body is not your own. It’s acting on instinct. Fight. Flight. Push. Pull.

It shoves everything down. Everything your brain can’t compartmentalize right now gets locked away in a dark place. You can feel it all, later.

Right now, you have to survive.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Soap yells over the noise, snapping you out of autopilot. He’s somewhere behind you, sense of relief making you dizzy when you turn and see him crouched next to a large chunk of concrete. Thank fuck.

“Johnny? Shit.”

“Yeah. Shite. What was that?”

“A bomb.” You say, dryly. He gives you a dirt look.

“We’ve gotta split, lass.” The ground has a unique dirt pattern to it. The grains are all a different size, different shades of reds, greys, brown. Where are you? They work together, forming a chaotic design, one blanket of earth, dust and dirt swirling together and- where are you, where are you, where- “Sassy!” Soap’s face careens into your point of view. It looks distorted. You jerk backwards, the quick movement making your head spin. “You okay?”

“Where are we?” The words stick to the roof of your mouth. He gives you an odd look.

“Hey, Sassy. You alright?”

“I’m good. Yeah. All good.” A pause. A deep breath. A denial. “You got comms?”

“Negative.”

“Great.”

Johnny is bleeding. You didn’t notice right away, but the crimson stain spreads under his shirt near his hip, and your panic returns, ice slowly spreading through your veins, threatening to freeze you where you stand.

“You’re hurt.” You pat his shoulder, and he nods.

“We’ve got to find the others. Or the truck.”

You can’t find the god damn truck. You have no comms. No guns, only your combat knife and two grenades between the two of you, and Soap is actively bleeding.

It looks bad.

It feels even worse.

“Maybe we should just sit tight.” He grunts, and you startle.

“Yeah. Yeah, Johnny. Let’s just sit here, in the middle of active territory, with no comms, no guns, in the middle of the street. When you’re fucking bleeding out from your gut.” You snap. Confusion flickers across his face. You never snap at him. Gaz? Maybe. Ghost, yeah. Even Price sometimes. But never Johnny. “Sorry. Sorry, Soap. My head is still spinning from the blast.”

“It’s alright, lass.” His voice is calm, smooth. You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye before he straightens, head turning the other direction. “There’s a hostel, a few clicks down the road. Want to give it a go? They probably have a phone.” You look at him, and then down the length of your own body, tallying and subtracting, plus or minus the odds.

Fuck it. 

It’s not very far, but it feels like a full days’ walk. Your head is still buzzing, proximity to the blast too close, too much, too familiar. It’s scrambled your brain, and you find yourself trying to focus on the back of Soap’s head, breathing through your nose. One foot in front of the other.

Somewhere, a block or two away, a car backfires.

Your muscles flex, and you flatten against the side of the building. Soap is talking to you, but you’re immobile, and you can’t hear him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Something kickstarts in the back of your brain and your feet move. You give him a nod.

The woman behind the desk is terrified of you. Her eyes go round when you approach, gesturing to the phone, and she hands it over immediately, nervously looking between you and Soap, who’s slumped over in a plastic chair, bleeding.

You dial the number you know by heart without pause.

Soap is leaning against you when the truck roars around the corner, dust fogging the air beneath its wheels. He’s doing alright, your rudimentary medical skills coming in clutch when you decided to pack his wound as you waited, and the woman at the desk kindly gave you some towels for pressure. You flag them down, Price white knuckled behind the wheel, familiar skull mask in the seat next to him.

Your heart sinks.

He’s going to kill you.

When he jumps from the passenger seat, he looks anything but angry. His eyes are frantic behind the mask, wide and darting from you to Soap, pulling him from your side into his as you get closer.

“Johnny.” He says gruffly, and Soap cracks a smile.

“S’all good, Sassafrass patched me up.” He groans, and Ghost loads him into the backseat, sliding in beside him as you take the spot up front.

You’re numb. Price is asking you questions, and you’re answering as best you can, surprised when he seems satisfied after the play the play. He even says you’ve done well, the praise from your captain warming a little spot in your cold body. You nod robotically, shallow smile on your face, and check on Soap in the rear-view mirror, relieved that he’s got good color in his cheeks, still breathing.

You catch Ghost’s eyes in the reflection. They burn into you from behind the mask, pulling you apart to see inside. He doesn’t blink, and you turn away, uneasy.

You stumble away from everyone after you give Johnny a pat on the head. He’s still smiling, and squeezes your hand affectionately, medical team carting him away to receive actual care.

He’s fine. We got here in time. 

You’re staring at the blood in the sink when someone tries the door handle. After it doesn’t budge, a heavy fist thumps against the thin plywood.

“Someone’s in here.” You croak. The fist bangs again, and you sigh, swinging it open to tell whoever it is to go away.

Except, it’s Ghost standing on the other side.

“Fuck off.” The bewildered words come easily, and his eyes narrow. He shoulders through the door, slamming it shut, large hands gripping onto your shoulders and then tugging you into chest, heavy arms pressing you so tight into him that you’re having trouble breathing.

Your heart flips over.

He holds you, in silence, for a moment that feels like a decade. The balaclava scuffs along the top of your head, and he steps back, still clutching you by the arms, looking you up and down.

“Where are you hurt?” He shifts, thumb stroking a tender spot above your temple where you have a scratch, pulling the wet cloth in your grip free and dabbing it to the side of your head gently. 

“N-no. I’m not. Just Soap. I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” You stare like he’s grown two heads.

“Ghost.” You’re cautious, unsure. Confused. You don’t know what’s happening, why he’s standing in the bathroom, caressing your face, helping you clean up. He holds the cloth under the tap, bringing it back up to your cheek. “Ghost.” You try again. Nothing. Finally, you try; “Simon.”

His hand stops moving. He’s as still as marble in the bathroom, lungs frozen in his chest.

He’s looking into your eyes with a long, dizzying gaze that has your own stunned wide, unable to blink, unable to look away.

Until he lunges for you.

He snatches you by the waist, dragging you out the bathroom and hoisting you over his shoulder. You yelp. “Simon, what the fu-“

“Hush.” He swats your ass like you’re a petulant child, beelining for your tent.

Sometime in the night, when the base is somewhat quiet and the lamp light has dimmed, he folds you in half on the threadbare mattress, pressing your legs back towards your ear, eyes trained on where your cunt flutters for him, clenching around nothing as you wriggle and try to press your thighs together for friction.

“None of that. Be good.” He admonishes.

“Simon. Please.” You’re not too proud to beg in this moment, that’s what nearly dying will do to you. You need him.

He sinks to his knees, still framed between your legs, and rolls the bottom of the balaclava to his nose.

It’s the first time you’ve ever really seen the skin on his face in such a large amount. No paint. No skull. No black cloth. Just his jaw, broad and sharp. His lips, full and wet, flash of tongue darting out from behind his teeth, mouth hot against your pussy, thumbs spreading you open to have his fill.

“There she is.” He murmurs, lips on your clit like a lover’s kiss. His tongue seeks your swollen nub under its hood, and it’s so much, warmth of your body, his face, all of it melting into your skin. Your heel pushes against the mattress as you rock your hips up into his mouth and he chuckles, a hand pressing down on your lower belly. “You taste good, Sass.” You clench, twitching, getting close, orgasm barreling through your nerves, body moving in tandem with each swipe of his tongue, muscles seizing-

He pulls away, hand wiping his face and rocking backwards on his knees.

“What the fuck?” You screech, propping yourself up on your elbows. He’s loosening his belt, and you can’t resist reaching, wrapping your fingers around the throbbing length of his cock. He snatches your hand away, holding you by your wrist and bending you back down, laying his weight on top of you and pushing inside your cunt with a single thrust. It’s been months, yet your body yields to him immediately, aching burn fizzling out as your walls flutter and you whine.

“My girl.” He moans, fucking into you like a man starved. “My good girl.” You stutter out a response, some jumbled nonsense that sounds like his name, sounds like Simon. “My sweet girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.” He rears back, pulling your leg to his shoulder, foot dangling next to his ear.

“Fuck, Simon. Don’t- don’t stop please-“ His thumb continues in a circle on your clit, pleasure shooting through your muscles.

“Are you going to come?” you nod furiously, eyes clenched shut. “Look at me.” He bears down on you, gripping your face, and you find his usual guarded gaze nowhere, nothing between the two of you, just two raw currents slamming against one another they’re sparking. You can’t look away.

He thumbs your clits hard, giving you more as he thrusts, rising crescendo forcing insane noises from your mouth, sounds you don’t even recognize, gasping as your orgasm rolls over you like you’ve been hit by a truck. You tighten around him like a vice, and he swears, burying himself deep, walls pulsing around him, pulling his orgasm into you with ease.

You both slips into uneasy sleep, his body wrapped around yours so tight it almost hurts. Your dreams are broken, shattered fragments of bombs from past and present; voices screaming, friends pleading. You scream, pain and fear scratching under your skull, an attack, and bombardment you didn’t see coming. He holds you, soothes you, kisses you, still tense, coiled, ready to spring if need be.

“I got you, Sass. I’m here.” His voice is soft in the dark, fingers smoothing the sweat dampened skin of your face. “I’ve got you.”

Two days later, he rips the rug right out from under your feet.

“What the FUCK is this?” you brandish the stack of papers in your hands at Simon, who sits calmly in the corner of the tent. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge your shrieking, your voice reaching frantic pitches of incredulity.

“Can’t have you here.” He says simply, like that’s all the explanation that’s needed. You’re vibrating, rattling with fury, with fear.

“You reported an intimate relationship with Price, to get rid of me?” His eyes narrow behind the mask, but he doesn’t deny you. “Oh my fucking god, Simon.” You laugh, and it’s sour, spoiled. Rotten, like the sickness that’s turning your stomach. This has to be a joke.

“I can’t have you here.” He repeats himself like a broken record, before he’s on his feet and heading for the exit.

“Simon!” You hiss at his retreat, but it’s far too late. It’s too late for all of this. He’s already gone.

He doesn’t come to say goodbye. Johnny shuffles out to the airfield to give you a hug, Gaz and Price with him. Betrayal burns the back of your eyelids as you shake hands with your captain, and he gives you a knowing look. A sad look.

When the helicopter banks over the tents, you see the black spot of someone standing outside, face turned up to the sky, and you stare at the white and black skull until it disappears from view completely.

You’re restless.

Your house is a skeleton, the walls of the rooms empty, silence so loud you swear you can feel it reverberating in the floors. You were technically on leave, but available for transfer, even though you hadn’t put in for anything, and hadn’t put any feelers out for private sector either. There was something glitching in your brain. Something serious after that last explosion. The whispers of self-doubt echo in your mind. You were off after that bomb, there’s no denying it.

You’ve tried to cleanse yourself of it. Of him. Of everything. You stand under the spray of the shower and scrub your skin until it hurts, letting the bathroom become so thick with steam it’s hard to see. It’s the only thing that relaxes you. It’s the only place that feels quiet.

It’s three weeks later when you start to get sick. At first, you think it’s a bug and expect it to pass. You have a hard time keeping anything down, your stomach sending food and water right back up your throat, forcing you to sip electrolytes throughout the day to keep from crashing.

When four days of the same turn into five, and then six, and then a week, you start to get nervous. You start to do the math.

That’s how you end up in the drugstore, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. Just to rule it out. You tell yourself. There is no way you’re pregnant. You were good with your pills. You rarely ever missed one. Better safe than sorry.

The test glares at you, fully aware of much an affront it is.

“This can’t be happening.” You whisper to yourself in the mirror. “This isn’t right.” Fear ricochets up your spine.

Fuck. Simon. 

[ryin-silverfish]

Heart and Mind: An Analysis of Tripitaka

I've been wanting to write this since…since I came across some good ol' Tripitaka discourse in the LMK fandom ages ago. Couldn't remember the specifics, but as y'all probably know, it falls under the "Is him an abusive master" and people's strongly worded retort to that question.

On one hand, I dislike the "abusive" take because so often, it is an excuse to reduce a character to an 2D caricature for cheap angst purposes, and both JTTW and its historical context deserve more nuances than that.

On the other hand, I don't agree with some of the defenses either——that Tripitaka is Kind and Wise and The Virtuous Monk, Actually, and people who said otherwise just had their views colored by adaptations, or were ignorant westerners misreading the book.

Because trust me, Chinese readers absolutely have gripes with Tripitaka too, and sass him mercilessly.

We may have a better idea of the historical context, namely, the common usage and acceptance of corporal punishments, but quite a few of us don't think he's a good Buddhist either.

Instead, I'd like to focus on his allegorical role, and how it ultimately forms the basis for my interpretation of his character.

It is commonly acknowledged that each pilgrim represent an aspect of the enlightenment seeker: Monkey is the Mind, Dragon Horse the Will, Pigsy the Desire, Sandy the Determination/Ideation.

Tripitaka is either the enlightenment seeker as a human, or the Heart, the Compassion.

But how can someone represent Compassion when his behaviors don't look all that compassionate, when he seems to care more about what a good Buddhist looks like on paper than in spirit?

How can a compassionate man punish his disciple with a migraine spell and disown him twice, be okay with some violence but not others?

Well, to answer that question, I feel like you have to look at Tripitaka in conjunction with SWK, and what the monkey represents. He is literally the Mind Monkey, the boundless potential of human intellect, and that, by itself, is neutral.

In the word of one of the best poems in JTTW:

"He could be good; he could be bad; present good and evil he could do at will. He'd be an immortal, a Buddha, if he's good; wickedness would cloak him with hair and horn."

To put it simply, SWK is one's wits, one's problem-solving skills, the ability to discern good and evil on a cognitive level.

Whenever Tripitaka, the Compassion, is deceived, it falls to the Mind to see the opponents as they are, and take action to protect the human from harm.

But just as blind compassion without judgement can be exploited by evil, the reverse is true for a mind without compassion, driven solely by their own ambition and whims and practical knowledge.

The Mind knows that robbery is a crime, so these robbers deserve death, but has no idea how disturbing it is for a regular guy to witness six people being brutally murdered in front of him.

The Mind knows that abandoning your wife and family to become a bandit is shameful and unfilial, but cannot comprehend why the bandit's father may not want his son killed for these offenses.

The Mind knows right and wrong, but has trouble seeing the human behind those acts, and why one should care in the first place.

And to see what the Mind looks like without any of Compassion's restraint, one needs to look no further than SWK's "Second Mind", the Six-eared Macaque.

Just like how "Heart" sounds like a lame power for a character, Compassion isn't flashy, nor as useful in a strictly ultilitarian sense. In fact, having compassion makes you vulnerable. It hurts. And unscrupulous people will absolutely use it against you.

So why hold onto your weakness and wallow in it? The world doesn't need another sanctimonious wuss, it needs strong, clever people making hard sacrifices, ruthless, logical decisions! Tough up! Stop caring, and you'll never be hurt again!

Much like a certain crowd who think basic human decency is somehow political propaganda, perhaps, when SEM struck Tripitaka, he was trying to do the same thing.

Kill the embodiment of compassion, the sniveling, useless, fragile human that keeps holding SWK back. Replace him as the true Mind, the one strong enough to break all bonds and seize glory with his own two hands.

But without compassion, without humanity, one is no longer a whole person, and cannot reach enlightenment. In fact, just like how Buddha would only give the True Scripture to Tripitaka, if you are not brave enough to make yourself vulnerable, to suffer and feel other's suffering, you will never transcend it.

At best, you can have some pale imitations of the parts you have willingly shut out from yourself.

And that's what SEM does. He thought he could do it on his own, singlehandedly replace SWK and reap the benefits of enlightenment, but he is no Monkey Awakened to Emptiness.

He is just empty; cut off desires because it is base, cut off determined ideation because it is foolish, cut off compassion because it is weak, cut off the altruism and curiosity and creativity from the mind, and you are left with a grand total of NOTHING.

A shadow of a self, desperately clinging onto external validation and stolen stories, reading the pilgrim's travel paperwork out loud as if that would actually make the journey his.

Tripitaka needs to trust SWK and learn from him, because compassion, much like good intention, doesn't solve problems on its own, and mercy is not the same as enabling harm.

SWK needs his master's guidance, because even at his most selfish and impulsive, he cares, and only by extending that care to others and accepting the vulnerability that comes with it can he truly mature and become awakened to the ultimate truth.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

One last bit of ramble: I feel like there is something to be said about Tripitaka's tendency to trust Pigsy, and how the pursuit of enlightenment is often derailed by worldly desires.

Unlike the demons they encountered, however, Pigsy is not the personification of mental obstacles that must be destroyed, because you cannot destroy bodily needs, nor the very human tendencies to slack off and avoid trouble.

You should stop listening to its advice, sure. Poke fun at it, absolutely. But what Pigsy represents is part of the human condition, just like every other pilgrim, and also something one must make peace with.

[ultimate-marysue]

I want a situation where the robins are fighting together. One of those really messed up villain team ups, maybe they have to work together to save Batman, whatever. The important part is: things are looking bad. There's no back up coming (Nightwing and Red Hood were their back up!) and Damian is the only thing standing between the civilians and the bad guys.

He is terrified, not that he'd ever admit to it, and he knows he needs to be focused on the fight if he wants to win it. There's only one problem: most of those civilians are kids. They are crying, screaming, and having lost all hope. They know Robin will do all that he can to save them, but Robin is a tiny kid, just like them, and he is scared too.

An image comes to mind, of times long past. He'd been way past his curfew, looking at the bat computer he was forbidden from using. It wasn't his fault really, father and Drake hadn't come back at their expected time and he just wanted to check if his assistance was required. After all, he was far better trained than Drake. Maybe that'd be the night father understood and asked him to step in.

The CCTV footage he managed to access from Oracle showed a gnarly fight between Robin and Killer Croc in the middle of the street. That was the first time Damian ever saw Robin in action. It was way different than how he moved in the training mats; he was unnecessarily flashy, cocky even, equally concerned with sassing and hitting his opponent. Robin's smile as he ran circles around the rogue could light up a city.

It had been sloppy at best, but there's a reason why it came to mind right that moment. That fight had been an equally tiny Robin against an immensely larger monster, but all the civilians in frame had been cheering Drake on, forgetting the danger they were in.

Looking at a particularly snotty toddler that looked like he had peed himself in fear, Damian made his choice. It could bite him in the ass for all he cared, he knew that Spoiler would be done soon and coming to his aid. So Damian gave his best smile, straightening up, and insulted the rogue's costuming choices.

The fight was hard, harder than what it needed to be, as Damian balanced blocks and dodges with scathing remarks about his enemy's face, career or the unlikely relations of his mother. It wasn't his usual ruthless effectiveness nor his venomous insults. For the first time he was purposefully putting on a show, despite his own fear. It was hard, keeping up his flashiness while trying to not die, but soon enough he was rewarded but cheering when the hit coming his way barely missed him. So he kept going.

Eventually Spoiler joined him, with her own commentary on the rogue's alleged romantic life (or lack thereof), before Red Hood finished him off with some sort of reference that was missed on Damian. By the end he was breathing hard, absolutely exhausted, when he felt Brown's arm around his shoulder. "Keep up" she whispered as she turned them both towards the crowd. Red Robin was already helping the civilians, while Nightwing helped Red Hood securing the rogue, both of them having finished their own fight.

He lifted a little girl from the rubble, and she giggled merrily as if she hadn't been crying ten minutes ago there were still tear tracks in her soot stained cheeks.

"You were so cool!" She stated, almost matter of fact, "Kevin thought you were gonna get your ass kicked but I knew you'd win."

She said that last part petulantly, staring at another kid wearing a Batman t-shirt. The boy looked a bit ashamed, and Damian couldn't help the derisive t-t that escaped him.

"Obviously, as if that bumbling buffoon had any chance against me."

The girl nodded sagely "I know, Robin always wins."

Damian sat her down next to what looked like some very frazzled preschool teachers, not bothering to correct her. Robin didn't always win, that was absolutely nonsensical. Yet...she had sounded so sure of herself. As if it was a very well known fact and her friend was just being silly.

He was struck down from his reverie by a firm hand settling on his shoulder. He looked up to a beaming Nightwing "Nicely done out there, Robin." Damian wanted to protest, to pretend like he hadn't done anything special and that this was just a regular Tuesday for him. Instead, he dumbly nodded, his chest feeling warm from the praise.

"...and then he said 'I honestly pity your mother, carrying a waste of oxygen for nine months! It was hilarious you should have seen it!" Spoiler was loudly reporting his juvenile jabs to a very amused Red Robin as Red Hood barked out a laugh.

Damian feigned disinterest, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious for his half baked attempts at annoying his enemy. He caught Red Robin's stare, and before he could look away he saw his brother give him a proud smile and a thumbs up.

"Everyone is being so obtusely cheery today," he sneered, "maybe we should check the water supply."

"I can't blame them baby bat, you did your job too well today," Dick laughed "Robin always makes people smile."

It was said fondly, and Damian could feel the love Dick had for the mantle he'd created and everyone to ever wear it. Robin looked back at the gaggle of preschooler he had saved, most of them cheerfully waving their little hands at him. He waved back, smile on his face.

He had always known he was destined for greatness.When Richard bestowed Robin upon him, he knew he would be a great vigilante. But today he realized there was a difference between being a hero and being Robin. It was nice to know, he made a pretty great Robin too.

[duskysprings-if]

demo (coming soon) | ro appearances | other characters

❝welcome to dusky springs. a family-friendly p̷̧̲̱͛͊̉̔̑͂ă̴̤̝r̶͎͗͋͗̈́͌͠͝͝a̸͉̫͌̉̆d̷̢̨̛͚̠̖̺̞̲̍̃̓͊̄͗̚i̷̟̱̖͆̓̉̉̽͋̌͠s̵̤̦̠̝̬̩̻̓ḙ̵̺͎̳̰̩͂̌̽͆̏̒̈́.❞

stuck in dead end jobs to pay the bills is not the future you or your twin sister envisioned for yourselves. so, when your grandfather bequeathes his museum of mysteries to you both in his will, you both leap at the chance to turn over a new leaf and start again.

only the town of dusky springs is nothing like you expected. the town is too vibrant, the people are too friendly, and the woods bordering the whole place are way too eerie for comfort.

still, you and your twin manage to carve out a piece to call home and with it, create a small family that consists of three employees of varying skill and sass, some rich kid with a surprising amount of sense, a wandering stranger, and the demon you accidentally summoned thanks to an old journal you found.

a journal that leads you to the realisation that in dusky springs…

no one is safe.

dusky springs is 18+ cog wip based on alex hirsch’s gravity falls.

content warnings include explicit language, optional sexual content, murder and attempted murder, graphic depictions of violence, blood, and injury, emotional abuse, age gap (optional), body horror, manipulative behaviours, and alcohol and drug use. please proceed with caution.

⛦ customisable mc. play as female, nonbinary, or male with cis and trans options available. chose your pronouns, identity, and titles separately.

⛦ personality stats include: stoic/emotional, cautious/reckless, ruthless/merciful, genuine/sarcastic, kind/rude, stubborn/compliant & sanity. skill stats include: physical strength, charisma, intelligence, and magic. These are subject to change, however, this if is story driven and you will not be punished for low stats.

⛦ four characters to romance with two poly options available to pursue. platonic routes available.

⛦ manage the museum of mysteries, investigate the going’s on of dusky springs, and try to keep your ragtag family from blowing something up.

aspen lyrik [m/f/nb]

the demon you accidentally summoned and bound to you. aspen is quick-witted and intelligent, and you can’t tell if they’re fond of you or not. one moment, they’re refusing to speak to you and the next, they’re almost dying in order to protect you. you knew demons were going to be confusing, but nothing could have prepared you for yours.

loukas/louella cynara [m/f]

one of the employees you inherited with the museum. lou is the laidback life-of-the-party. despite their somewhat slacker attitude at work, they become a fast and loyal friend and appear ready to accept whatever crazy theories you throw their way. as a dusky springs lifer, their insight and knowledge could prove valuable.

vanya seneci [nb]

the child of the richest family in town. vanya lives off daddy’s money without shame. getting caught up with you and the imaginary mysteries of dusky springs was the last thing they wanted. except when things get a little real, you and your twin are the only ones they can turn to.

rayn/raelyn esias [m/f]

the stranger. r rolled into town around the same time you did. the only thing you know about them is the name they gave you and the fact that they seem to know a lot more about dusky springs then they’re letting on.

poly options are aspen + rayn/raelyn and loukas/louella + vanya

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT MOBIUS'S HEAVY KEYS

I wrote a meta on S1 Mobius here, mostly exploring his interrogation persona and emotional trajectory toward S1E6. I also have a fun little list on all the things I love about him here.

@mitromana posted about how we should talk about Mobius's sass and even cruelty more. @wowwwmobius posted how Mobius realistically would not be doing well post-S2E6 (I wholeheartedly agree), and they and @inwantofamuse shared amazing comments. All of this inspired this meta.

Thank you @mitromana @wowwwmobius @inwantofamuse!

Mobius's interrogation scenes are him at his most cruel and ruthless. The flipside of being a highly empathetic person is that it is very VERY easy to use this skill in highly abusive, cunning, and powerful ways. This is especially true if the person armed with this skill is exceptionally intelligent and is convinced their motivations are good. At the TVA, before Loki's exposure of the truth, Mobius is both of these things. Worse, he has access to the TVA's more ethically unconscionable technology, which he does not hesitate to use.

The road to evil is paved with good intentions. Mobius strolls onto this road more than once, but he manages to not stay on it because two people curb this risk: Loki and, yes, Sylvie.

Take in Loki's words and posture in this scene. The words alone are a frail and weak comeback for a silver-tongue God of lies. They do nothing but reveal Loki is in FACT scared. His arms are crossed tightly over his abdomen, a primal protective response. He's leaned as far away from Mobius as possible. This is the best Loki can come up with in the face of a boring man in a boring suit, really?

You can see why Mobius was moved into the position of Analyst from Hunter. He may not be able to prune children, but he can literally bring a God like Loki to the ground, breathless, confused, and frightened, with nothing more than WORDS. And this is with a variant Mobius likes. Imagine what he can do to a variant he hates.

For HWR and Ravonna's purposes, Mobius is the perfect weapon to get whatever they want out of whatever variant they capture before sending them off to get pruned. How do they keep him from questioning anything?

Memory-wiping (more than once), brainwashing, propaganda, and:

A little something for Mobius's identity, something that fulfills his intrinsic need to take care of others while also gently stroking his ego.

Yes, the genocide of multiple timelines over the span of eons is horrifying. But Mobius is capable of being complicit with it as long as his environment feeds his intrinsic psychological and emotional needs. The people on the Sacred Timeline become his new children, and he will do anything ANYTHING to protect them.

There was one thing HWR and Ravonna didn't anticipate: that this man's empathy for a specific Loki would be the very thing that liberates the multiverse and his own bondage from a corrupt bureaucracy.

However...

I don't believe Mobius ever anticipated becoming emotionally compromised when he advocated on Loki's behalf. He likely genuinely believed that after centuries of studying Loki, he knew him well enough to make him useful for the TVA. But the subconscious, oh. That is a different story, and in Loki's own words, Mobius has a gift for lying to himself.

I discuss the interrogation scene and Sif loop scene in depth here, so I won't repeat myself, but I'd like to draw our attention to the 2 gifs below, framing my analysis:

Imagine where Mobius's mind must be at:

I spent centuries studying you and believing in you. I waited more centuries for your nexus event to come. I tasked every hunter to inform me of your arrival immediately, no matter what I was doing, no matter where I was. I abandoned a case. I ran to your trial. I put my job, reputation, and eons-long friendship with Ravonna on the line. I tested your theory. I brought you with me on the field. You talked to me. You challenged me. You made me proud. You made me laugh.

I gave you daggers and you stabbed me. You STABBED me. When all I wanted to give you was--

Mobius cracked hard and fast. Applaud Owen Wilson for THIS interpretation of the script and THIS delivery.

Thankfully, the very person who put Mobius in this fragile state of mind is also the person Mobius deeply wants to believe in. Even after being betrayed, Mobius still wants to believe in Loki and his capacity to be a wonderful person. And so he looks at Ravonna's TemPad, decides Loki deserves to be with whoever he wants to be with (even if that person will never be Mobius himself), frees Loki to help him save the woman he loves, and gets pruned for it.

Mobius survives thanks to plot-armor. And who is the first person he meets?

The bane of his existence.

And Sylvie wastes no time driving a knife into a very fresh wound. Mobius, however, only recently unleashed all his rage. His reservoir for compartamentalizing has refreshed, so he can take Sylvie's truth bravely, without a flinch, and acknowledge that truth with one of his own.

Mobius owns it. He doesn't deny it. He tacitly agrees with her and gives her a reason why.

We should remember how dangerous Mobius can be. He is currently sitting in a car with the variant he is most likely to hate. Sylvie is strong, clever, and resilient, but her ability to regulate her emotions is weak, especially if she is triggered. Mobius can destroy her very easily with his words.

But Mobius can't hate her. He can't. She was right and he was wrong, but most importantly Loki loves her.

He won't hurt the person Loki loves most. No. He will take her to him instead. He can stomach the pain, the disappointment. He's good at that. Loki's well-being, his happiness, comes first.

In fact, Mobius stomachs Sylvie's knife twists a second time and chooses not to defend himself. I don't doubt a large part of him agrees with her. Nevertheless, he can't help but hope Loki might stand up for him in that moment. He tries, and fails, to make light of it by rolling his eyes and turning to his friend. When Loki leaves him not explaining why, his true feelings about this interaction surfaces on his face.

Aren't you going to say anything?

The saddest thing is that this is the LAST intimate moment THIS Mobius has with Loki before Loki crosses the gangway and never returns. This is it. This is what he's left with: the thought Loki didn't care enough to defend him and Loki leaving.

HE doesn't get to hear that he's just trying to see in the dark and is doing everything he can to keep the surviving timelines alive. SYLVIE does.

HE doesn't get to hear Loki tell him he saved his life. DON does.

HE doesn't get the final goodbye and "thank you, Mobius", his PAST SELF does. And if Mobius happens to remember this moment in the present, he will know that he was the one who propelled Loki to bear this massive burden ALONE.

My worry for Mobius post-S2E6 is that he is more than talented at ignoring his own needs and addressing his own problems. He is infinitely better--a master, even--at taking care of anyone else. It's a devastating flaw, but it comes from a very raw place:

His heart, his soul, will always remember being a single parent.

Being a parent at all is hard to begin with. There are only so many hours in a day, and the majority of it is devoted to putting someone else's needs before your own. Being a single parent is even harder. You might have a few people to help you, but ultimately, there's no partner to share every high and low intimately. To be a single parent of not one but TWO children?

Game over.

Some viewers have interpreted Don ignoring his sons' phone calls at work as negligent. Honestly, I don't think that's the case. He will call them back. Don is Mobius and Mobius is Don. He will take care of them. But refusing every beck and call at work is the only personal boundary he has. He cannot have many boundaries for himself at home or anywhere else. He has to decline not one but two calls for his own sanity. Nevermind that he works Monday through Saturday, nine to five, to make enough money to keep them healthy and happy. Where is the break? There is none. This is Don's glorious purpose.

Mobius leaving the TVA is understandable for two crucial reasons: One, it is a reminder of all his horrifying acts and complicity. Two, it is a reminder Loki is no longer there. But by leaving the TVA, Mobius separates himself from his only support system. That's not good. That is decidely unhealthy. The fact that it doesn't cross B-15, Casey, or OB's minds that this is a very bad idea tells you everything you need to know about the number of genuinely close friends Mobius has.

Mobius has two. He walked away from one to be with the second, and the second walked away from him, too. TWICE.

But he still loves him anyway.

When you take a man like this and take away everything that's kept him functional: the TVA, Ravonna, Loki, and then show him a content life in which he cannot even be with his own children because another version of him already exists, what do you think will happen to him given we've seen how violently Mobius can snap?

And guess what: only one person has ever seen Mobius snap on more than one occasion. Only one person understands the triggers and how to handle them. I'll give you three guesses as to who it is.

Mobius "has a happy ending" is absolute bullshit. He is at risk.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Attitude

poly!mikaelsons x reader (klaus, elijah, & kol) | requested

summary: your attitude gets the already fired-up mikaelson boys to put you in your place the hard way

tags: tickling (kink?), sex toys, fingering, face-fucking, blowjobs, vaginal sex, edging, overstimulation, nipple play, wax play, minor blood drinking, minor daddy kink, minor loss of consciousness (from overstimulation), cuddling, aftercare

word count: 3.7k

“Don’t come any closer,” you put a hand up at Klaus, backing away as he continues to inch towards you. “I mean it!”

The man just smiles and licks his lips, “oh come on now, love. I mean you no harm.”

“I’m serious! Stay there! I don’t want-” His eyes flick to something behind you, but only for a mere second. Before you can question it, someone grabs your waist from behind. You scream, but your captor puts his hand over your mouth. “No! Stop!” You try to argue, but your efforts are futile. 

Klaus then comes at you quickly, knowing you won’t be able to escape his brother’s grasp. You still squirm anyway, fighting for your freedom. 

“Niklaus!” A deep voice stops all three of you immediately. Moments later, Elijah enters the room, then rolls his eyes at the situation. “And Kol, you’re here, too. Of course.” He looks at you. “Brothers, leave the poor girl alone. You’ve tormented her enough today.”

“She secretly likes it,” Kol argues. He lets you go, though, and you escape to Elijah’s side, seeking protection. 

Elijah sighs. It’s quiet as he thinks up a reply, but then you realize it’s too quiet. Too late. “I know,” he smiles. Before you can run again, he grabs you in his arms, holding you tightly and tickling your sides. 

“No, no, no! Stop! ‘Lijah, I trusted you!” You try to cry out, but it’s difficult when you’re also half laughing. 

“See,” Kol points, “she likes it.” He speeds to your side to help his older brother, then is followed by Klaus, too. The three of them are ruthless in their attack, unrelenting until you fall to your knees. 

“Okay! Okay!” You pant, out of breath, “you win! Let me go!”

Elijah finally does, but you only take a step before you’re in the arms of Klaus. 

“Wait, no! Put me down!”

“Nuh uh, love, we’re not quite finished with you.”

He carries you bridal-style to his room, then tosses you on the bed roughly. There’s no point in trying to escape - you’ll never beat him - but you try anyway. 

“Ah, ah, ah, no you don’t,” he races to stand in front of you as you crawl to the bedside. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, watching your eyes glance to the opposite site. “Whatever you try, I will always win.”

“He’s right, darling. You can’t win against us. Two original vampires versus a tiny, mere human! You don’t stand a chance,” Kol enters the room. He walks over to the other side, barricading you on the bed. 

Elijah then enters and stands at the foot. “Three, actually.”

“But you don’t have to be frightened, love. All we want is some fun. And maybe just a little bite, too.”

“Haven’t you had your fun chasing me all over?” You sass the boys. 

“Oh! She’s got a bit of attitude! No bother, we can clear that right up. Elijah, if you will.”

There’s nothing you can do as you watch the man undo his tie and stalk over to you. Your heart pounds in your chest, half from nervousness and half from anticipation. He instructs you to lie down, then binds your hands with his tie. Though before leaving you to the mercy of his youngest brothers, he kisses your bound hands and then your forehead. 

“Let me know when she’s learned her lesson. I’ll be back.”

The two wilder siblings lick their lips the minute they’re left alone with you. Your heart sinks to your toes, having no idea what could be racing in their heads. For the first minute, it’s a staring match, like a rabbit up against two wolves, all wondering who will make the first move. You’re done trying to escape at this point; you decide, instead, to stay completely still. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, love,” the hybrid breaks the silence. “Tell me, how are we making you feel? Scared? Nervous?” He makes his way closer to you with each word. “Hungry?” By now, he’s inches from your face. You can feel his breath on your lips. Your eyes are so close that you can see every fleck of gold in his green eyes. 

“Um-”

“Aww,” he cuts you off, “was that really all it took for you to drop that little attitude of yours? Seems my intimidation tactics are right on spot. I was afraid you’d require more effort.”

“I’m not scared,” you say suddenly. “In fact, I think that was a rather lousy attempt at intimidating me. You know I can handle you, Klaus.”

The man erupts in laughter and turns to his brother. Upon seeing the smirk on his face, he turns back to you. “You can, hm? Brave words from such a small, innocent human..”

“Innocent’s certainly not the word to describe me.” You peer behind him to see Kol. “Remember that time we snuck away from the Christmas party to have a little fun? It was so loud in the compound that no one heard a thing. Little did they all know what was happening right above them.” There’s a glimmer in your eyes, knowing you might turn the brothers against each other. 

In your favor, Klaus does face his brother. “What is this now?”

Kol swallows before answering, “she was in desperate need to be taught a lesson. Didn’t want to make a scene, so I brought her up alone.”

“And why did you not relay this to the rest of us afterwards?”

“Thought she had learned her lesson and didn’t need it resurfaced. Promise I taught her well, Nik. She was a very good girl afterwards. Which is what’s going to go down tonight, right, darling? You’re going to stay quiet and let us do what needs to be done.”

You bite your lip at the way Kol digs himself out of the hole. There goes your final chance at escaping this. 

“Is it not?” He prompts.

“Oh, yes, um, yes, it is.”

“Good. Now, stay there, and no touching,” he pauses, “oh wait!” He giggles childishly, “you can’t.”

Despite being apart for decades, the brothers seem to know each other’s every move when it comes to preparing you. They work in silence and light touches, though you know it won’t be like that for long. Klaus rips off your clothes and you fit the urge to protest, knowing it’ll probably just get you in more trouble, while Kol fetches something from the closet before settling in between your legs. Before long, both have their hands exploring your body. You feel tingles under their fingertips, and a burning in your core. It’s so quiet, it’s killing you, and you’re on the verge of making a comment just to raise their blood pressure a little. 

“Are-”

Just at that moment, Kol pushes two fingers into you without warning. You gasp and forget your words. “What were you about to say, darling?”

Quickly, you shake your head, denying his statement.

“Oh, you most certainly were,” Klaus challenges. “Come on, say it.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“If you admit it, I might be less harsh in dishing out your punishment.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. Yet, you come clean. “I was just gonna ask if you were actually planning on doing anything.”

The man laughs, “my, you just don’t know when to drop the attitude! You know, Y/N, Elijah is well stocked with ties. We can bind your mouth with one if we need.” He makes a stride over to the closet door.

“No! No, no, please! I’ll be good, I promise. No more comments. I’ll listen.”

“Will you now?”

“Yes! Klaus, I will. I swear.”

“Well I do like to hear the sound of you begging,” he pauses, “but until you can control your tongue, I think you need something keeping you from using it.” He opens the door and begins to sift through the selection.

“Actually, Nik, I have a better idea.”

“Do tell.”

“Don’t need a little string of fabric to shut her up. Not when there are much more crude ways to do it.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you gulp, catching on. 

The man turns around quickly, “and how do you feel about that suggestion, love? Do you want me or this pretty little piece?” He holds up another tie, but you shake your head at it. “You can answer. Just this time.”

“You. Please.”

The smirk returns to his face and he speeds over to you, dropping the tie. “You asked for this, love. Remember that.” Then, in mere seconds, he becomes undressed before you and straddles your chest. You share a look with him and nod, telling him you’re okay, before he adjusts so you can take him in your mouth. He grips the headboard, hovering over you, as you prepare. He allows a few kitten licks to his tip before deciding when you’re ready, then lowers his hips until he’s buried between your lips. Before moving, he taps twice on your shoulder and you nod - a silent reassurance that you’re still okay. He increases pace slowly until he’s found a comfortable one for both of you. 

“There you go, love,” he praises, one hand tousled in your hair. He thrusts more, and you gag, but he doesn’t let up. 

Kol, meanwhile, has just traded his fingers for the toy in his hand. With no warning, he turns it on and presses it to your clit. You jump at the feeling, making you gag again on Klaus’ cock. A whine escapes your lips, substituting a string of curse words; a vibration that only turns the hybrid on more. 

Despite your current state, you want to bite at Kol for using the vibrator, but you can’t. You try to close your legs, but he only spreads them again. You whine again, feeling yourself getting close. Your body feels like it’s on fire, spreading to every inch of your skin. A knot ties in your stomach, getting tighter by the second. Kol stops, letting out a chuckle. 

“Not yet, darling.”

The only sound you hear next is that of his belt as it drops to the floor. And for the third time, in typical Kol style, he gives no warning before pushing his cock into you. There’s no difficulty at all; not a bit of pain or discomfort, because of how wet you are. You take his size with no problem, and soon, he’s at the same pace and rhythm as his brother. 

It isn’t long before Klaus starts to get sloppy. He tries to hide it - always does - but you know the man almost as well as he knows himself. Even if he can throw you off from it, his eyes give him away. He steals glances at you, green softens to its bluer hue, and tears of pleasure escape the corners. You know you have tears, too, but he wipes them away with his thumbs. 

"Love?" He mutters. 

You nod, encouraging him to finish. He thrusts a couple more times before his taste fills your mouth. Hot, sticky release runs down your throat, and only then does he let up so you can swallow. He lifts your head up gently, not wanting you to choke, and kisses your forehead.

"Going soft on her, are you?" Kol teases. 

"She did a good job, brother. Merely rewarding her."

The youngest smiles, heart warm at the reminder of how much Klaus adores you, but he doesn't slow himself. 

"You okay?" Klaus asks you.

You nod, then stick out your tongue to show him you swallowed everything. 

"Good. Keep it up, love. Because we're not done with you yet." He cocks his head to his brother to continue. 

Kol alternates between rubbing your clit, but then removing his hand as soon as you feel the tension building again. It's killing you, but you don't want to call out and receive more punishment. 

As he waits for Kol to finish, Klaus moves to your side to tease your nipples. He squeezes one in between his fingers, while running his other hand along your body. The way you shiver at his touch almost makes him moan. In a moment of weakness, he tickles your side. You jump suddenly, giggling. Kol moans at the feeling of his cock moving inside you at the abrupt motion. You feel it, too, then become overwhelmed with the need for his release. 

"Kol," you whine. 

Klaus catches on quickly. He pinches your side again, repeating the same sequence of events. 

"I told you you loved it," Kol says to you. 

You don't respond, partly because of the laughter you're holding back. 

Neither can think of a more beautiful sight right now than the girl they love falling apart in front of them, face bright with joy, and so close to coming. 

Of course, they won't let that happen until Elijah has his way with you, but they will edge and tease you as much as they can. 

Then, finally, your body jolts one more time, and it's all that's needed for Kol to spill his release inside of you. He's a lot less in control than his brother when he's pleasured. His eyes roll back in his head and he has to fight to keep himself from collapsing onto your chest. He doesn't pull out, though, until he's done. When he does remove his cock, he immediately puts a finger inside of you, swirls it around to gather his cum, and then brings it to your lips. You suck his fingers happily, licking your lips after he retracts them. 

"That's a good girl," he says, kissing your lips and tasting himself. 

"Do you think she's ready for Elijah?" Klaus smirks after only a minute of recovery. You've barely caught your breath, and still haven't come, but you know it's not over yet. 

"I think so.”

Just in time, Elijah walks back into the room, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You gulp at the sight. “How is she doing?”

“Lots better. Dropped the attitude and has been patient for her release.”

“You haven’t given it, have you?”

“Of course not. Right, love?”

You nod quickly. 

“Very good. I have something in store that will certainly teach her. Any residual sass will just, ah, may we say… melt away.” He gives you a half smile that tells you everything you need to know. “Niklaus, get me a towel just in case. Kol, untie her, but hold her still.”

The two do as they’re told; Kol sits behind you to hold onto your arms, while Klaus and Elijah disappear into the other room for a second. 

“I love you, darling,” he whispers into your ear. He continues to leave a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, sending chills down your spine. 

“I love you, too,” you say back. “Even when you’re mean.”

“It’s not mean, puppy, it’s our way of showing we love you.”

“Definitely mean.”

“If you think that was bad, it’s about to get way worse,” Klaus comes back, smirking, with a towel in hand.

You stiffen as he stalks towards you. “Why the towel?”

“To clean up the mess. Supposing there is any.” He puts it underneath you, lifting your body gently in certain places. 

“There will be,” Elijah says in a rather calm tone. “Kol, are you holding her?”

“I have her.”

“Good.” 

It’s at that moment that you realize what he’s holding - a small candle, lit, which appears to have been burning for some time now. “What’s that for? Silencing spell?”

“Not quite.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Less a silencing spell for the room, and more just for you.” Before you can ask any further questions, he smiles, “remember the word you say if you need to stop. Remind me of it.”

“Safe.”

“There you go.” All three of you are dead quiet and watching intently as Elijah blows out the candle. You brace yourself as he sits beside you and places a hand on your hip. With his other hand, he moves the candle so that it's positioned in between your breasts. Then, as you sharply inhale upon realizing what’s about to happen, he tilts it ever so slightly, letting liquid wax drip onto your body. Initially, it burns, and a shudder runs through you. Kol holds onto your arms just a little tighter, just in case. But as the first drop cools and hardens, you relax. Elijah takes this as a sign to continue, and drips it along the center of your body, stopping at your navel. Some of the wax falls down the sides of your stomach before it can harden, landing on the towel Klaus had laid down for that reason. The sensations have you panting slightly, but nothing prepares you for Elijah’s next move. Moving the candle back to your breasts, he lets the wax drip onto your nipples, one at a time, and then plunges two fingers into your hot, but swollen core. A loud moan escapes your lips at this, and you pull against Kol’s restraint. 

“Now, now, darling,” he whispers into your ear, nibbling at it gently. 

With Kol distracting you, you don’t notice Elijah’s nod to Klaus for him to pour more wax. It comes unexpectedly, causing you to jump, and Kol to bite you harder than he meant. Now you have three sensations: the man fingerfucking you, and increasing his speed by the minute; the man dripping wax along every inch of your bare stomach; and the man licking blood off your ear. You can feel yourself getting overstimulated. The only sounds in the room are the wet squelching noises from your heat, and cries coming from you as you beg the men to either slow down, or make you come, or both. Neither answer, though you catch a glimpse of the two eldest both smirking. 

You know you can’t fight them. There’s no use. You can only hold it out, hoping they don’t ease up, because you’ve decided you just want to come, no matter how hot your body feels. You start pleading with them by name. 

“‘Lijah, please don’t stop! Feels so good!”

At this point, Klaus has run out of wax and resorts to sticking his fingers in the hardening spots, rubbing it in circles. His nails scratch your skin painfully, but the softness of the wax eases the soreness. 

“Oh god, please, Nik! Please let me cum, please, please.”

You tilt your neck to give Kol access to your veins, knowing if you can distract him back and get him to drink, you won’t be the only one getting in trouble in case you come early. It works, and the minute his teeth sink into your neck, pleasure fills your body. 

“Oh, Kol, right there!” You moan loudly, drowning out your own words. 

“Kol!” Elijah disciplines his brother, “do not get distracted!”

Fuck. 

He draws his fangs back in, “sorry, brother. She’s so tempting.”

“Hold her in place.”

“Are you gonna let her cum soon? She’s been a good girl.”

Elijah looks at his youngest brother, then the hybrid, for confirmation.

“She has been very good,” Klaus agrees, “she’s earned it, I’d say.”

He then looks at you, never ceasing in his actions, “convince me you deserve it.”

“I’ve been so good, daddy. I haven’t come at all, and I dropped the attitude a long time ago. I won’t make you regret it, daddy, please!”

“Alright, beautiful,” he finally says, “come for me. Come for us.”

Permission granted, you immediately feel yourself start to lose control. Your mind goes fuzzy and your legs begin to shake. A series of whines escape your lips and sweat graces your forehead. 

Klaus comes up to sit beside Kol as you come undone, but Elijah fingerfucks you throughout your orgasm. All three watch in admiration as their girl experiences one of the greatest orgasms they’ve ever given her. 

Your body goes numb once it ripples through your body. Elijah slowly comes to a stop before pulling out and sucking your taste off his fingers. You want to thank him for the mercy, but are unable to speak. Only another whine comes out instead. 

“You alright, darling?” Kol notices your state first. He shakes your arm gently, trying for a reaction but getting nothing. 

“Baby?”

“Give her a little blood,” Klaus says quickly, not caring who does it. 

Kol beats his brothers to it, biting his wrist and forcing you to drink. At the same time, Elijah grabs the water bottle from beside the bed, steals an ice cube from inside, and places it on your cheeks. The sudden cold sensation, plus the healing blood, shocks you out of a daze.

“What happened there, love? Are you alright?”

You look around, at the room, the company - your boys, - and then take a deep breath. “Okay. Just overstimulated.”

“Did we go too far?” Kol asks worriedly. 

You look up and cradle his face with your palms, “no, sweetheart. It was perfect.” You look at the two on your other side. “You were all perfect.”

“You scared us there for a second, baby,” Elijah says, standing up.

You almost answer with a sassy reply, but then remember that’s how this whole thing started. Instead, you say, “can we cuddle now?”

Kol mutters in agreement and curls up beside you, but the other two insist on just a little bit of aftercare first. 

“You already did that. You gave me blood. That’s enough for now. Come cuddle.”

“Technically only Kol gave you his blood. Which is why I’m not scolding him right now for not helping us. But we’ll be with you in just a moment.” 

With a pouty face, you curl up into the youngest, burying your face in his chest. Klaus removes the towel from underneath you, while Elijah uses a baby wipe on your skin to clean the wax. He then puts a salve on your swollen clit, which he knows must be throbbing from overstimulation, as well as a lotion on your stomach where Klaus’ nails scratched. Only after they’re sure you’re well taken care of do they join you on the bed. After a second, they smile to themselves, realizing you’re already fast asleep. 

[reynalovesfiction]

· 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 — Alexei Makarov

— “Try harder, dear. No one escapes from me. And the ones who do, their heads always end up on a goddamn stick.” —

.||° Gender: male

.||° Age: unknown (appears in his mid twenties)

.||° Ethnicity: Russian

.||° Species: Deity's Vessel [ SUCCESSFUL.]

.||° Yandere type: stoic worshipper

Appearance:

.||° Black, hunter eyes that used to be ocean blue. Suppose to represent his deity's eyes.

.||° he has skin paler than what a human suppose to be. Almost as if it was cold and dead.

.||° his hair is a dirty blonde in the hairstyle of a mullet. Though, his hair appears a bit thinner (not too thin) before he was chosen to be a vessel.

.||° He stands at 6'7 (200 cm), lean, and black arms fading from his skin with glowing white veins.

.||° Has a scar on his right cheekbone.

.||° Can shapeshift into a big mass of black liquid with eyes, mouths, hands, legs, and tentacles.

.||° Wears standard lobe piercings with long sliver rectangles earrings.

.||° mostly wearing suits, in a black colour scheme.

Personality:

.||° Ruthless, not afraid to show that to the world and let it burn in front of him.

.||° More serious when lost sanity. Prefer his work to be more professional.

.||° Despite his serious demonic demeanor, he does have some sarcasm and sass in him. But, it always felt unnatural. Like his human side wants his body back.

.||° humane. But too humane to the point people felt doubt to him.

.||° Has some sort of god complex. Happens due to the fact that he's the deity's vessel.

.||° despite his god complex, he has a sense of morals. Unlike his brother.

With a lover:

.||° A stoic worshipper, looks serious but would do anything for his lover.

.||° Would they want coffee? He would kill someone to steal their coffee for his lover. Would his love want new clothes? Say no more. He would kill and steal things just for his darling.

.||° Worships the ground their lover walk on.

.||° would force people to work with the both of them; him and his darling.

.||° oh, his darling want a seat? Use one of his men's back. It's more comfortable as a chair.

.||° Would be the only kind thing he tolerates.

.||° Is a wonderful baker. Would bake his darling sweets just to make them stay.

.||° doesn't share his darling.

.||° Let's hope his darling doesn't ignore his worshipping! Or else their friends are just a puddle of organs.

Strengths:

.||° Force manipulation (Human form)

→ ables him to use physical force fields to crush, twist, break, turn and chop people's bodies.

.||° Tendrils (True form)

→ Ables him to pull, snap, and pierce people with his tendrils.

.||° immortality

→ due to his duty as a vessel, he was cursed with immortality by the deity in him.

Weaknesses:

.||° Something kind (true form)

→ he feeds off of people's fear and hatred towards him. But, kindness disgusts him.

Story:

Living in a darker side of the villain governmental town, Alexei lived in a very dark cult with his brother, Roman. They were inseparable. But something happend at the age of 19.

The cult believes that the hero government were disobeying their deity because their deity is the true hero. So they needed their deity to kill all hero government personnel by in the body of a villain.

For their ritual, they needed two people just in case one of them fails to become one with the deity. And Dmitri was the first one to succeed after years of trying.

But, the human side of Alexei is fighting. Just for his brother.

He just want Roman to survive.

Trivia:

.||° Unlike his brother, he loves animals.

.||° His brother and Alexei shared most things to remind him of his human past; has trouble sharing darlings.

.||° loves to watch the stars.

.||° He likes his human meat ate in a gourmet, fancy way

.||° sometimes wished to disappear.

.||° Doesn't eat human food, but does eat pastries.

[itsanerdlife]

Wicked Intentions 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader // (Seriously close) Steve Rogers x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader // T’Challa x Reader.

Warning: Violence. Language. Bullying. Girl Fights. Name Calling. Degrading Comments. Angst. Degrade of Woman (to a point). Criminal Life. Illegal Shit. Fights. Alpha Males. Stalking.

Characters: Peter Stark. Howie Stark. Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers. Clint Barton. TC (T’Challa). Ben Reilly. Cledus Kasady (CK). Brock Rumlow. Gwen Stacy. Wanda Maximoff. Becca Barnes. Amore Lorelei. Kitty Pryde. Frank Castle. George Barnes. Joe Rogers. Winni Barnes. Pepper Stark. Wade Wilson. Eddie Brock. Warner Strucker. Barney Barton. Bobbi Morse. Pietro Maximoff. Logan.

A/N: This is a Bully Romance. High School setting. Mafia Family Life. Woman are on a lower level than males in their world. Just a heads up. This is the third installment of the series. Bad Intentions, Cruel Intentions, and Wicked Intentions.

Credit: Huge shout out to @ml7010 for all the help, pushing, hyping up, putting up with my changes midway through. If it wasn't for this peach, y'all never would have gotten this series or nearly as far as I am now.

Peter is yelling, hands cupped at his mouth.

Howie is on his feet, cheering.

Clint’s on the ring edge, calling out tips.

Steve’s staring down the opponent’s boyfriend.

Bucky watches her dodge right, hands up protecting her face. Her knee comes up, connecting with the girl’s side. She stoops, her first mistake. Y/N grabs the back of her head, her toes barely touching the ring mat, before her knee comes back up faster this time. Y/N slams the girl’s head down, meeting her knee. Shoving the girl back, into the ropes, when she stumbles from the knee to the face, Y/N winds up, throwing an absolute ruthless right hook to the jaw.

Her head snaps back, blood spraying, her body goes limp, hitting the mat with a thump.

The Ditch goes nuts, screaming from all sides. Cheering, celebrating, talking shit.

TC dips under the ropes, grabbing Y/N’s hand, holding it up, cheering just as loud.

When the Stark’s meet eyes. Howie and Peter are on their feet. Y/N bounces on her toes, all three at the same time, flex inward, with a loud “AHHHHH!” at one another.

“That’s our girl!” Becca is on her feet, screaming for her best friend.

He grins when his girl locks eyes with him. She grins, rolling her eyes at him.

They still went to The Ditch, sometimes TC worked the decks there. Mainly when Y/N wanted to beat on bitches for kicks. She was getting Becca into it now. Only Y/N’s now fighting top fighters from other areas, coming to see what she’s made of.

Sure she might be taking over the table, running her own mafia, and be the most feared thing in Saints high school, but she’s still the girl that needs a good fight to feel calm. Compromises were made between him and her when they started settling into life together. Like her training with Frankie and TC, after the battle for her, she never wants to be underprepared for another fight. He couldn’t blame her, encouraged her.

The memory of her in the hospital, damaged and broken, burned into his mind for life.

A tight feeling appeared in his chest, worrying about his baby sister taking over.

“Boss man?” She’s next to him, Clint cutting the tape off her hands. Steve, cleaning up the few cuts on her.

“The right hook, baby girl.” He shakes his head, smirking at her. “I’d say it’s blessed by Satan.” He chuckles, leaning into kiss her.

“But I am Satan.” She laughs against him, kissing him again.

“Don’t we know it.” Clint snorts.

“Unlikely to ever forget it.” Steve shakes his head.

“And if you do, I’ll remind you.” She sasses, like a snotty teenager.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” The two mutter at the same time, laughing.

“Ah.” Steve pauses.

“What?” He asks.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “Is that new or old?” He cut his eyes to her thigh and back away.

Fingerprints, on the outside of her thigh, a thumb print on the inside of her thighs.

“Old.” She grins in Steve’s face.

“Scarred for life.” Becca whines, walking away.

Clint looks down and back to her. “That’s hot.” He grins.

“Fuck yeah.” She laughs, they high five.

“Alright, enough of that.” He pushes Clint away, making him laugh.

-----

The house party loud and packed. The typical Friday night high school parties for them. He sat on the couch talking with the guys. “What’s the policy for fighting here?” Howie laughs, sipping from his beer bottle.

“Don’t. Why?” Steve smirks.

“Cause if Smalls sees that girl eye fucking Bucky, that policy won’t matter to her.” Peter laughs.

“Does any rule?” Bucky sighs.

They all laugh.

“Boss man.” She saunters up to them. Dark cut off shorts, a cut short red T-shirt, with a black sports bra underneath. Her ball cap turned backwards, dark hair in messy waves.

“Doll?” He smirks up at her when she comes to stop the side of the couch, he’s on.

She leans down, black fingernails tip his chin up towards her. Her eyes cut to the side and instead of kissing him as he thought. She licks him, from his jaw to his eyebrow. Staring down the girl watching him. She looks startled before she bumps into someone trying to get away.

“Much better.” She smiles pretty walking away.

Peter’s brow yanks down. Howie looks confused. Steve and Clint are unbothered.

“Did our baby sister,” Howie blinks.

“Lick you?” Peter’s eyelids flutter quickly.

“Yup.” Clint and Steve reply, throwing back shorts.

“What in the fuck?” Peter laughs.

“Not new.” Clint shakes his head, downing his beer.

TC is moving towards them, a look of worry on his face.

“What?” He puts his cup down.

“Pretty sure Eddie is across the street.” He jerks his thumb backwards.

They exchange a look between the five of them before jumping up and hurrying out of the house.

Indeed, on the other side of the road, sits Eddie parked, leaning against his car. He smirks at them, as they come to stand on the walkway of the house.

“Gwen get in the house.” Y/N’s voice hits his ears.

“Y/N.” Gwen sounds nervous.

“Wanda stay here.” Y/N orders, he can hear her coming up behind them. She cuts around him, walking down the path, they follow her. She stops on the edge of the curb.

Eddie flicks his eyes from her to Becca, standing next to her.

“Try it.” Y/N warns him.

Eddie smirks, cutting his eyes back to Y/N. They stare back at one another.

She stares him down, Buck looks from Eddie to Y/N, something dark and dangerous in her brown eyes.

It’s Eddie who blinks first, looking away. Suddenly he gets back into his car, leaving.

She turns on them, staring at each of them for a moment.

“Something you boys need to tell me?” Her brow lifts, Becca looks tense next to her.

“We don’t know what that was about.” He assures her.

She nods slowly. Cutting between them heading back towards her girls at the door. The six of them exchange a look, heading for her. She pauses, taking the cup from Gwen, she turns to them standing above them on the front stoop.

“You better swear on whatever god you believe in, Boss man; you didn’t lie to me.” She repeats the saying from the beginning, when they first started out and Ben Rielly and Sina were causing issues for them. The ice cold look in her eyes, makes his steps stop suddenly.

“I’ll make your life hell, James Barnes, you think before was rough, you haven’t seen shit yet.” She warns him. Turning, she steps into the house between her friends, walking away.

Fear creeps into his chest.

He swallows hard.

-------- Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @kmc1989 @irepeldirt @joannie95 @nunu2888 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @carostar2020 @rosalynshields @destiel-artemis @hookslove1592 @CallSign-Vesta @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @happydeanpotter @fanfic-n-tabulous @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @wonderswrittings @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

Bucky 'Fuck Me Up' Barnes: @nickyl316h @jbbarnesgirl @lets-roggerthat @this-is-mycrisis @kaylaphantomhive

Series tags: @sebastians-love

[0vinosparv]

I need more goofy/smug villains in my life. Not just the mediocre type that always gets their plans foiled by the Hero, but a REAL villain at heart. Terrifying, but a talkative fellow. Ruthless, but oddly polite? A dramatic persona, and an expert in axe wielding. A theatre kid villain basically, with a LOT of sass AND humor.

(Bonus points if their nemesis is a grump).

[assortedvillainvault]

Hi! I was browsing the Lord Shen tag and found your blog 👀. I loved the headcanons for ShenxReader through the wolf henchmen's pov ❤️.

Would you mind sharing some headcanons but from the pov of the fluffy Lord peacock himself?

Hi Anon, thank you so much!!

I'm so sorry that my Lord Shen Masterlist slipped my mind - I'm fighting tumblrs atrocious tag search to find my previous writings for him and get them on there for you. In the meantime please - have some more!

Lord Shen x Reader Headcannons

- This stuck up, mithery, hairpin tempered ball of anxiety and condescension is officially your problem now. I mean. You chose this, so I’ll leave it to you as to what end of the bad choices scale you’re landing on, but man. You sure picked.

- I also can’t get over the fact that – in China and most of the East: white is associated with death and sadness, and mourning. You not only picked the unhinged genocide gun bird, you picked the only person in all of China to be literally born emo via albinism.

- I will get back to the above, but I’m mcfucking losing it over the image of Shen being. The smaller of the two of you.

- Like if you were a smaller creature he could properly get his elegant noble stride on, nose in the air and tail gently swishing behind him as he circles you, admiring every angle and relishing the nervous, excited little glances you give him. He might not be a strictly predatory species but he sure loves that thrilling edge of not-quite-stalking. He’s too high class for the genuine article, that’s what he has the wolves for.

- But if you had the audacity to be larger than him?!

- He’d grind his teeth if he had any. He wants so badly to intimidate you – making sure to step with an extra click of metal coated talons, words honey-barbed and sticky as he looks for chinks in your armour, having to crane his head back and up to look you in the eye and- look- could, could you just- just lean down? Lean down for goodness sake just- there. There. Lovely. As he was saying…

- Shen going to go bananas planning the perfect courtship. Everything must be. Exactly. As he plans it. God forbid you trip on the stairs. If you bribe the guards to move all furniture two inches to the left you’re going to have a great time watching Shen’s eyelid twitch for twenty minutes as he tries to figure out what’s ticking him off.

- Want a shortcut? Say nice things about his cannon. No seriously, it’s not a euphemism (though it could be-)

- The cannon is the culmination of Shen’s ambitions, the reason for his exile, the demonstration of ingenuity that set him apart. Seeing you run a hand smoothly over the intricate castings and complimenting his life's work is going to fill him with so many butterflies he’ll have the wedding ready by noon.

- Of course he does, underneath all the royal snobbery and sass, really, genuinely like you. More than he ever thought he could ever like another person. Go you.

- ...He can’t contain the terror that you might not like him back. Not because of all the murder, no, that’s clearly not the issue. But because he isn’t perfect enough for you. Because he’s not enough.

- Shen popped out of his egg all but rocking the 2007 bangs and MCR soundtrack of his time: born the colours of death in a house and species traditionally all the colours of the rainbow will have been like a self fulfilling prophesy – unspoken but not forgotten as he grew up and internalised his inadequacy by striving for excellence in literally everything else in life.

- Excellence in the form of weaponry, security, excessive control and genocidal ruthlessness. Combined with ingenuity, high intelligence and paranoia: all wrapped in a package of straining courtly manners and a need to constantly have the upper hand.

- You keep taking the fucking rug out from under him by reversing the script and being nice. Even his nanny (soothsayer, who has having a great time munching popcorn and giving incidental commentary) gives him shit and drives him up the wall – yet you’re out here, smiling (how dare you-) and- and saying he looks good (he knows, knows he looks sickly and out of place, a reaper amongst royalty-) and – of course you want to hand his hand really, who wouldn’t (who would?) - he’s fine, he’s fine-

- If he dared to let you go, he’d shatter like a discarded doll.

- How does it feel, reader, to hold the fate of all China in the balance of your smile?

[hollowed-theory-hall]

so what made you realize that harry potter was your ultimate favorite character and why ? what is it about him that appealed to you coz if you're aware, he is generally considered boring for a main character in the hp fandom. i used to be one of those haters, but your blog and many others helped me see him through a different lense so thanks for that lol

Thank you! I'm glad you love my boy too now. He deserves it. I wrote my general thoughts about him here, and wrote so much about him in this blog in general, but what made him my favorite is, like, a combination of circumstances.

You see, I used to be one of the people who thought Harry was boring and dumb. I read the books when I was 12, then watched the movies, and for years, I thought Harry was boring and that the HP series as a whole was overrated. I had a good friend in high school who was obsessed with Harry Potter, so I had to be cool and contrary and think the whole thing and the main character was stupid and boring. Daniel Radcliffe's portrayal of Harry didn't help as it didn't have most of the character and charm of Harry in the books and came off as super awkward and boring (to me, at least, but I think this is a pretty common opinion).

Then, a few years ago, I decided to reread the books. And when I did, I fell in love with them in a way I just didn't when I was 12. Harry became my favorite character just because I loved the guy in the books. I read and felt so guilty I ever thought he was boring. He didn't deserve that shit from me because he's an amazing narrator. He's clever and observant, and the way he reacted emotionally to things really sold me. Like, I used to have anger issues as a child and teen (usually when I tell people that now they're really surprised cause I don't look it), and Harry's anger super resonated with me. His anger, sass, and sheer determination are what I loved most about him. He's a tenacious guy who suffered so much and deserves the world. He's an amazing protagonist who manages to be everything he needs to be and more. He's brave, loyal, and compassionate, while also being cunning, angry, and occasionally ruthless and I love his merge of characteristics (as someone between Slytherin and Gryffindor, myself, I relate). And somehow (I blame the movies), he is underrated in the fandom that's named after him.

Also, I was, like, 20 by that point, so I cared much less about being edgy and cool and not liking a popular thing for the sake of not liking a popular thing.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

[ x ]

🦇 Heir Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

❓ #QOTD What's your favorite fantasy book?❓ 🦇 An orphan. An outcast. A prince. And a killer who will bring an empire to its knees. An old tragedy fuels Aiz's need for vengeance, while love of her people that propels her. Sirsha agrees to use her magic to hunt a killer who is murdering children across the Martial Empire. And Quil is the Empire's crown prince, though he's loath to take the throne. Sabaa Tahir interweaves the lives of these three young people as they grapple with power, treachery, love, and the devastating consequences of unchecked greed, on a journey that may cost them their lives—and their hearts. Literally.

💜 *Insert a plethora of creative curses here* For fig's sake. I can't even begin to describe the pure AWE I have, not only for this story, but for Sabaa Tahir, fantasy and Muslim-American literary goddess, in general. I honestly can't think of a story I've read that was so well intertwined, so fully conceptualized, while respecting roots of the series that came before it. Earlier this year, I had the fortune to read The Fragile Threads of Power by VE Schwab, which continued her Shades of Magic series. Reading Heir sparked that same feeling; the sensation of returning home after a long journey through other vast worlds. I'm grateful that Penguin Teen hosted the Ember in the Ashes read-along this summer. While Heir introduces us to new characters, 20 years after the Ember in the Ashes series ends, each mention and emergence of a familiar character provided a sweet taste of nostalgia I didn't know I needed. These books have seeped themselves deep within my marrow since 2015, and Sabaa Tahir has been on my favorite/auto-buy author for just as long. She's the first Muslim-American to win the National Book Award for Young People's Literature; a feat that gives me hope and inspiration as a Muslim-American writer.

💜 Reading Heir, you can see how much Tahir's prose has flourished over the past decade. Despite stepping back into this familiar world, it's richer, more vivid. The action is just as intense and ruthless, the characters undeniably unique. The underlying themes resonate deeply. I loved every nod to South Asian, Pakistani, and Islamic culture. It's always the five-star book reviews I struggle with the most. I could talk about this story for hours, but I'd spoil so much that I want you to experience for yourself.

💙 Don't worry: if you haven't read the An Ember in the Ashes quartet, you can still enjoy Heir. The three main characters have their own vivid story to tell, and while there are mentions of many beloved characters from the original series, they're supporting cast to Aiz, Sirsha, and Quil. I will say that the first part of the story took a moment to adjust to, and there's the lingering question of HOW these characters are connected, but once you realize how the breadcrumbs were laid out for you, you'll realize the execution is FLAWLESS. The fast pace keeps you on your toes, the ever-growing tension driving you to the last page. As for the underlying romantic story, AH! It was perfectly built, the sass and chemistry playful without stealing from the main plot, yet heart-wrenching; that kind of painful that keeps you invested long-term. OH! And can we talk about our villain? That BUILD?! I love a villain with reason--a character who doesn't realize they're the villain at all, someone with a mission that goes about it in all the wrong ways. This story had EVERYTHING and then some. I'll be recommending it for the next 20 years.

🦇 Recommended for fans of The Red Queen series, The Lunar Chronicle series, and The Throne of Glass series.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🫀First in a Duology ✨ Young Adult High Fantasy/Romantasy 👑 Political Intrigue ⛏ Enemies to Lovers 💓 Found Family 👁 Multi POV

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #Heir

💬 Quotes ❝ Get what you need. Forget the rest. ❞ ❝ "You are a daughter of the evening star. You are not meant to be caged." ❞ ❝ “I give my heart unto her keeping, a gift with no compare.” ❞ ❝ "The past will distract you from the now. And it’s the now that matters.” ❞ ❝ “You seek to understand the fibers that make the world,” Loli Temba said, “but not your own pain, nor that of others. You’d be better served understanding the latter.” ❞ ❝ He looked at her like her secrets were the sea, and he was at home in dark water. ❞ ❝ “Quil—” His name rolled off her tongue, a prayer. “Please—” “Mmm,” he said. “You should say that more, Sirsha. I’d give you whatever you wanted.” ❞ ❝ “Care about yourself as much as you care about those you love. As much as— as we care about you.” ❞ ❝ Sirsha grabbed his hand, wishing she could articulate the desire suffusing her, something more than I need you and I wish I didn’t. ❞