#the curl in that first pic is............................ destroying me

[wintersoldiersoul]

Get Him Back

A/N: Kind of loosely based on Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo but then it took a turn and got away from me??? I blame it all on this pic of Seb.

Warnings: Smut, Daddy Kink

It had been a month since it happened. Everything was fine until that night when Bucky came home and slammed the door. You could tell that he had a hard day. You trying to comfort him ended in screaming, tears, and a lot of broken objects thrown across the room by both of you. The two of you had had fights before but nothing like this. No, this was the one that broke you apart. Bucky stormed out of the apartment that night, mumbling something about going to Steve’s. You hadn’t seen him since. Apparently he had to go on an emergency mission in Russia. Or at least that was the story fed to you by the other Avengers. 

But now he was back. And tonight would be the first time you saw him since the breakup. The party at Stark Tower was in full swing when you arrived at 10pm. Every part of your look was carefully curated for one reason and one reason only. Make him jealous. Make him feel bad about losing the best girlfriend he’d ever have.

You were wearing THE dress. The one Bucky found you so irresistible in. Dark red with a plunging neckline and a slit up the skirt. As you slipped it on, you recalled how many times Bucky had nearly destroyed it by ripping it off of you when the two of you were alone. The memories made you sad.

But you had a mission tonight. Make the supersoldier ex-assassin fall to his knees and beg for mercy as you shunned him. 

“Oh you’re evil,” Natasha grinned as you strutted into the party. “You really wanna make him miserable, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” The corners of your cherry painted lips lifted up into a sly smirk. “Revenge really is sweet, Natasha.” You tried your best to come off as confident but truly, you were a nervous wreck. Sure, you wanted to make Bucky jealous. But this was the man that you had loved for years. The man who held you while you cried, who bought you flowers for no reason, who made sure that no matter what, you always knew how much he loved you. As much as you tried to convince yourself and everyone around you that you were fine, the heart inside of your chest was shattered. The angel and the devil in your head were fighting about whether you should try to get him back, or make him jealous as hell to torture him. 

You took a large sip of the whiskey in your glass, praying that the liquid courage would make it easier when you finally spotted him. 

“Y/N,” Nat grabbed your arm. “He’s here. How do you wanna play this?”

“I got this,” you smirked, standing up from the couch you had taken a seat on. Whiskey in hand, you strutted over to his direction, making a show of the way your curled hair bounced with each step you took in your black stiletto heels. 

Bucky was standing in a corner with Sam. And damn, he looked good. His long brown hair was pulled back into a bun and the white wife-beater shirt he was wearing perfectly displayed his toned flesh arm and the metal one. You always found him sexiest when both of his arms were on display. It was abundantly clear that you weren’t the only one with a plan tonight. But you didn’t let yourself falter. Didn’t let it show that his look made you want to clench your legs together for even the smallest bit of relief.

“Bucky,” you said, curtly as you approached. You watched his blue gaze trail up and down your body. His tongue jutted out as he slowly licked over his bottom lip. This was going to be even harder than you anticipated.

“Y/N,” he nodded. “You look nice.”

“You, too. I see you didn’t get too banged up on your mission?” 

He smirked. “Definitely got a little banged up,” he emphasized, causing jealousy to pulse through your veins. “But nothing too bad.” 

“Good.” The word came out as if you were a petty teenager fighting with a sibling.

“Yeah,” he retorted. “Good.”

You turned on your heel and walked back towards Natasha. There was only so much you could handle. 15 minutes later, when you had finally gathered yourself, you felt your phone buzz. 

Bucky: Your room. Now. Wait for me. 

You cleared your throat. “Excuse me,” you said to the group of people who had joined you and Nat on the couch. “I just have to grab something from my room.” You walked away and got in the elevator, taking it up 3 floors to your designated room at the compound. Being in it was weird now. You rarely stayed in it anymore since moving out but you knew you’d always have a space. But being in it now just reminded you of Bucky. All of the mornings and nights spent together before you found your own place. 

You sat on the bed, heart racing, trying to plan out what you would say to him. Be strong, Y/N, you tried to tell yourself. But as soon as Bucky sauntered into the room, you knew that would be nearly impossible.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?” He said as his tall frame leaned over you. “That dress… fuck. You wore that on purpose.” 

“Oh, like you didn’t wear that on purpose to torture me?” 

He laughed. “Fair point, doll. Fair point.” His eyes softened and he transformed from someone you were trying to hate into someone you never could. Your Bucky. Your soft, sweet Bucky. “Y/N… I- I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to express how sorry I am for everything.”

Stay strong. Don’t give in. You were trying so hard but fuck, he took a step closer and you smelled his cologne, driving you crazy.

“Bucky… you left. You just left. We broke up in one night and then you were just…gone.” 

“I’m so sorry my love-” “No,” you interrupted. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” 

You could see the hurt flash in his eyes. “Please, angel. I fucked up that night. I know I did. I would do anything to take it all back. I’d let HYDRA torture me til the end of time if it meant I could at least take back the things I said that hurt you.” He took another step closer. “Please, please just give me one more chance.”

He bent down so you were face to face. You couldn’t resist anymore. You grabbed his head and brought his mouth to yours, lips smashing together in a fit of passion and need. He picked you up and through you onto the bed.

“Wait… I have to tell you something.” You knew that what you were about to say could ruin everything again. But you had to tell him. “I…I slept with someone else. Just once. I was so broken Bucky I went to a bar and got drunk and had sex with another man.” You braced yourself for the reaction of hurt and anger. You got ready for him to storm out of the bedroom and back down to the party. 

But instead he just brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck you extra hard to get him out of your system.” His lips connected with your neck, sucking hard in the spot right under your jawline. The spot he knew drove you crazy. You cried out at the pleasure, already feeling your underwear getting ruined by how wet you were. “Lemme ask you something sweetheart,” he said seductively. “Did he make you this needy without even touching your sweet pussy?” 

You moaned at his words. “N-no, Bucky.” 

He smirked as he grabbed one of your legs, stroking over your calf with a feather light touch. His hand moved higher and higher until he was running his finger tips over your inner thigh.

“Bucky, please! I need you to touch me.”

He made a “tsk” sound and said, “Now angel, you know that’s not my name.” 

“Daddy, please!” You cried out. 

He practically growled at the name, gripping his fingers under your lace panties and dragging them down your legs. He held your knees apart, looking at your pussy feverishly. “God, I missed this sweet cunt. Soaking wet honey, you’re glistening. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you.” Your plan of staying strong had completely gone out the window. You just needed him to touch you and you were willing to do anything to make that happen. 

“Fuck you’re so beautiful. That dress… you make me speechless.” He gently ran a finger through your slit before pressing down hard on your clit, making you jump. “So responsive tonight. What a good girl.” 

He knew the nickname would make you even more desperate. “Daddy please!” “Please what, baby girl? What do you want from me?”

“Anything!” You practically yelled. “Your mouth on my clit, your fingers inside of me, please!”

He smiled before plunging a finger into you without warning. He added a second one, curling them inside and immediately finding your g-spot. 

“Bet he couldn’t find that special spot. I know your body so fucking well. I know that if I do this…” he scissored his fingers to stretch you out even more, just the way that you liked. You screamed, bucking your hips off the bed. “You’ll do that.” He finished, smugly. His head was right in front of your pussy, watching closely as he continued to move his fingers. “Oh baby, your little clit is so swollen. It looks so neglected.” The combination of his movements and words made you whimper. 

“Need you. Need your mouth. Please!” You whimpered. 

Bucky laughed darkly at your words. “I’m gonna take care of you, honey.” He wrapped his soft lips around your clit and sucked hard. Your head fell back on the pillow, the pleasure all consuming. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see the look in your eyes as you cum all over my tongue.”

You forced your head up to watch the sinful man between your legs. “D-daddy, I-”

“I know, baby. I can feel it. Don’t forget. I know your body. I know your body better than anyone in the entire fucking world.” 

He continued his movements with his mouth and fingers and you exploded.

“Oh, good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.” The bottom half of his face was covered in your wetness. “Gonna give you my cock now. Gonna stretch you out so good.” He swiftly removed his pants and underwear, causing his length to spring free. You reached out to grab it, desperate to make him feel good. “No, no, no,” he scolded, removing your hand. “Need to feel your tight little pussy around me. Need it now. Legs open.” 

You quickly obliged, spreading your legs as far as you could to make room for the man in front of you. He grabbed his dick and used it to toy with you, rubbing it over your slit and tapping it on your clit. Slowly, he began to push into you.

“Bucky!” You cried out as he filled you.

“I know, baby, oh fuck, I know.” The pleasure was consuming him so much that he couldn’t even scold you for calling him by his real name. “Look at you. Little cunt split open for my thick cock. Look at how you’re sucking me in. You needed this bad, didn’t you angel? Other guy couldn’t fuck you right? Couldn’t make this perfect pussy feel good?” As he spoke, he thrusted into you hard and deep. 

Tears streamed down your face at the intense pleasure that had your whole body on fire. “Only you, Daddy! Only you make me feel this good.”

“That’s right, my sweet girl. Never forget who knows this body better than even you.” 

You felt your high approaching rapidly, especially as he brought his metal hand down to toy with your clit. You couldn’t even speak at this point, the only sounds coming out of you were moans.

“Feel you fluttering around me, angel. You gonna come when I tell you to like my good little slut?” You nodded your head quickly, unable to speak. “Cum around my thick cock. Now,” he commanded, his voice full of sin. Your body obeyed and your walls clenched around him, hard. His movements began to falter as he came, fucking ropes of thick cum into your pussy. 

When you were both done, he removed himself from you. You both sat in silence, catching your breath.

“Y/N…” he looked at you. His eyes, which had been dark and feral moments before were now soft and full of nothing but sorrow and love. “I am so sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so much and I just-” his voice broke as he tried to hold back tears. 

You crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your bodies press up against each other, just taking in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Me too, Bucky. All of it. I’m sorry too. I love you.”

[campingwiththecharmings]

tagged by @soft-girl-musings ❤️ ty, this was super fun! tagging whoever wants to do this (please tag me in your posts!!!!)

1. Type your name followed by core into pinterest and paste the first pic. 2. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste the first person. 3. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste a random aesthetic picture. 4. Write a little story :)

(Please be gentle, I have not actually seen Dune, tho I did read a little of the novel, and am basing this characterization on my very limited exposure to Leto lol)

Dune Modern AU (I guess??) - Leto Atreides x F!Reader | (1,840 words) | Not proofread

AN: i...might've gone a bit overboard with this lmaooo. i blame oscar. 🫣

Warnings: murder, allusions to SA, probably a tad stockholm syndrome-y (lol), vague smut, some angst.

---

You struggle against the crewman's tight hold on your wrists, knowing that even if you were to break free, you'd have no where to escape to. Your ship had been attacked and boarded that morning by pirates, after which you, along with a handful of others, had been left to die on your pillaged ship.

When a ship flying the flag of Caladan had happened upon you, you'd been relieved, over the moon, even. That is, until they'd boarded and killed everyone left alive save for you. You should've known something was off as soon as they stepped onto the deck, their uniforms filthy and unkempt. But you'd been so desperate, had wanted to believe so badly that you were being rescued.

You don't know where he's taking you now, but given the lecherous look he'd given you just before grabbing you, you can take a guess.

Hopefully he'll at least have the decency to kill you once he's finished.

You growl as the man pushes open the door at the end of the hall, dragging you swiftly behind him. He throws you into a chair and looms over you, caging you in with a hand on either armrest.

"Feisty, aren't we?" he says, his dark eyes cold and cruel. "I like the feisty ones."

You stare him down with a glare, determined to not let this man take the only thing you have left: your dignity. He smirks at you and leans in, but it halted by the sound of the door opening.

"I'll take it from here, Yueh."

You watch as the man's lip curls slightly, annoyed at being interrupted. Nevertheless, he stands, schooling his face into an indifferent mask and turning toward the newcomer.

"Of course, Captain."

The crewman leaves, closing the door behind him with a loud "thwack," leaving you alone with this new man, apparently the captain.

You study him, noting that his uniform is in far better condition than that of his subordinates. Even his knee-high boots have been polished to a shine. You drag your eyes up his torso, then his chest, your eyes snagging on the insignia pinned over his left breast pocket. It looks familiar, but you can't seem to immediately place it. You allow your eyes to continue their journey, sliding up his neck, over his graying beard and stately nose, until you meet his eyes.

They're a warm, deep brown with a gentleness in them you are not accustomed to seeing in men (especially those in authority). He smiles at you apologetically, knowing he is at least partially responsible for the terror you've endured.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle, just like his eyes.

Inexplicably, the facade you've erected to make yourself seem unaffected by all of this crumbles at his question. No, you are absolutely not alright. In less than a week you've been attacked by pirates, had all of your possessions either taken or destroyed, and have watched almost every person you care for die. Tears well in your eyes and you're helpless to stop them from falling.

Embarrassed, you hide your face in your hands, silently sobbing into your palms. You flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Was he...comforting you? You look up, his eyes radiating sadness and, dare you say, compassion?

He hugs you then, gently pulling you against his chest and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He murmurs soothing words, promises to keep you safe, tells you you'll never have to live in fear again so long as he is with you. .

And you believe him, God help you.

He asks you to call him Leto despite clearly holding some kind of title. It feels odd to be so informal, but you do as he asks. He does not appear to have much trust in his crewmen, namely the group who'd boarded your ship. As a result of this, he is reluctant to let you out of his sight, so you spend most of your time with him. He does most of the talking, telling you of his beloved homeland Caladan, of his son Paul...of his late wife, Jessica. When you are ready, you do the same, telling him about where you grew up, of your parents, of your desire to see the world.

It's not until a few weeks later that you realize you're falling in love with him.

You do your best to hide it but he seems to sense the shift in you. The night before you are expected to return to Caladan, he finally asks what's troubling you. As when you'd met him that first day, his eyes are what get to you, the gentle kindness and patience in them like a balm to your soul.

"I...I think I'm in love with you," you admit, sure he doesn't feel the same.

But he surprises you yet again.

"I love you too, my darling," he rasps, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

He makes love to you until the sun rises, his movements gentle yet still passionate. His fingers tangle with yours when he pins you to the bed, making you come over and over, you body shaking with pleasure as he smothers your moans with his kiss.

He asks you to marry him in the afterglow, his head nestled between your breasts as you comb your fingers through his soft hair. You tell him you will and he looks up at you with a smile, sitting up so he can steal another kiss from your lips.

There is a commotion on deck as soon as the ship docks and it takes Leto a moment to realize it's not the usual flurry of activity that usually comes with a return to land. Sensing something nefarious, he tells you to escape through the window in his quarters. You don't want to leave him, flat out refuse to, in fact, but he convinces you yet again with his gentle, earnest eyes.

"I need to know you're safe," he says, taking your hands in his. "I'll find you, I promise."

You wait for him at an inn a few blocks from the docks but he never shows. You don't sleep, you can't, too worried about Leto and what might've happened to him. At the first sign of dawn, you leave the inn, returning to the docks in search of your Leto.

His ship is gone, the slip where it had been empty, and your heart sinks. Had it all been a trick? A game? A way to pass the time while at sea? Had he even really loved you or had he just told you that so you'd warm his bed?

You consider asking the harbormaster if they know what happened but...what would be the point? You know all you need to know: Leto is gone, has left you here alone, despite his promises to protect you, to love you, to marry you.

You do your best not to break down, to not give in to the crushing weight of your broken heart. Using the last of your coin, you decide to stay another night at the inn Leto had told you about, and in the morning, you convince them to hire you as a housekeeper in exchange for a bed and a meager salary. You work there for months, saving every penny you can for passage back to your homeland.

The night before you're set to leave, he finds you.

Leto.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

He's disheveled, almost haggard, and much skinnier than you recall. You wonder briefly if he's been ill but quickly decide it doesn't matter--he left you, fooled you into thinking he loved you.

"I'm so sorry it took me so long," he rasps, his voice strained, as if he'd been screaming for hours.

You scoff, doing your best to avoid looking him directly in the eyes. That's how he always got you, manipulated you.

"It's too late, Leto. I'm leaving in the morning," you tell him, turning away to fiddle with your already-packed bag.

"Will you at least let me explain?" he pleads, shuffling closer.

You sigh, shaking your head. You tell yourself no, that you don't owe him anything, that he doesn't deserve a chance to explain himself...but you can't help but be curious.

Without looking at him, you nod, bracing your palms on the dresser before you.

He thanks you, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he dives right in. He's been in jail, he claims, was locked up as soon as he stepped foot on land. Evidently, there was a mutiny and some of his crewmen, led by Yueh, had framed him by planting an illegal drug called Spice on board the ship. As soon as it had docked, the mutineers had sent an anonymous tip to the authorities and, as the Captain, Leto was arrested and thrown in jail. Unable to prove his innocence, he'd had no choice but to serve his time.

The story sounds plausible, and you're almost inclined to believe him but....you just can't. Your heart wasn't just broken by him, it was shattered. Irreparably, you think. Even if what he claims happened is true, you can't see how you could ever trust him again. Not after everything you've been through. You tell him as much, back still turned to him. After a beat of silence, you hear him shift closer, feel his warmth against your back, your eyes falling shut as he presses a gentle kiss against the base of your neck. You swallow a whimper, inhaling shakily when he runs his knuckle down the back of your arm.

"Please look at me, my darling," he pleads, voice thick with emotion. "Just one more time."

Hesitantly, you turn and your heart breaks a little more at the pain and desperation in his eyes. He smiles, taking your hand in his and gently squeezing it. Your eyes well with tears, one escaping and sliding down your cheek, and your curse yourself for your weakness. Using his free hand, he swipes the tear away, his touch lingering on your face.

You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and a fire ignites in your chest. More tears slide down your face as you kiss him back, your arms winding around his neck as he hoists you up to sit on the dresser. The action knocks your bag to the floor with a dull thud, but you can't bring yourself to care as Leto licks into your mouth, his tongue hot as it slides against yours.

When he finally thrusts inside you, it feels like coming home. Suddenly you feel safe again, you feel at peace.

In the end, he travels with you back to your homeland. Slowly, the trust that was broken is rebuilt and before you realize what's happening, you allow the love you have for one another to heal your shattered hearts.

[jarenka]

I finally translated a first part of my post-potj au into English. Well, machine translated it and @a1essie and @erlenwein helped me to edit it. I hope it’s readable. 

I drew a quick pic for it. Don’t worry Anakin will get his vitamin D later. They are on their first mission after Anakin left the hospital. 

"The training room is vacant," Anakin said. “You promised me sparring”.

Obi-Wan turned around. Anakin interrupted his conversation with Lieutenant Labal. They were in a break room, cluttered with furniture. Orange evening sunlight flooded it through the large transplasteel windows. 

“Wait a bit, I am almost finished.”

Anakin sat on the empty chair in the corner and watched Obi-Wan and his companion from under half-closed eyelids. He couldn't make out the exact words, but the tone of the voices was soft and friendly, and at the end of the conversation Obi-Wan patted Lieutenant Labal on the shoulder. After that, he turned around and sauntered over to Anakin.

“Are you interrupting my conversations with pretty women again? I thought you gave up that habit when you were sixteen.”

“Sorry, I didn't think you were flirting with a woman who is young enough to be your granddaughter.”

Obi-Wan sighed. 

“Get up, let's go.”

Anakin stood up. He still subconsciously expected pain from every sudden movement, even though it had been many months since he felt it. 

Obi-Wan had already left the conference room.

The training room was located at the end of a long, gut-like corridor. At first, Obi-Wan walked ahead, but Anakin quickly caught up with him, and they walked side by side, automatically adjusting to each other's pace like in the old days.

For Anakin, training was one of the few amusements here, on Carati, where they had been stuck for several months, helping rebels from the neighboring planet Surra. Obi-Wan and Anakin's group was providing supplies: they brought equipment, weapons and medicines, took away the wounded and refugees. This mission, part military, part humanitarian, tested Anakin's patience. He wanted a fight with imperial forces, to destroy patrol ships but they had to lay low if they wanted to continue their mission.  

Between trips to Surra once a week they barely have anything to do. Obi-Wan, the head of the mission, allowed his men to visit cities of Carati on their official leaves but all other free time they were spending on the military base. Anakin didn’t go outside even during his leaves and hardly talked to anyone. He was either training, or fixing something in the hangar, or sitting in his spacious bedroom watching holodrams from local holonet. He didn't like to appear in common areas: the dining room, the recreation room, the meeting room. People looked at him strangely.

Obi-Wan was also stared at, but in a completely different way. Just like before, when Anakin was a boy, they would go into the cantina together, and the women — and some men — would start to smile at Obi-Wan seductively and become too polite to him. Anakin didn't complain then: he often got a free dessert because the owner of the cantina or the waitress tried to impress the "uncle" with a young "nephew". He wanted to complain now. It was annoying. 

It was hot in the training room, despite the air conditioning. Evening sunlight streamed through the tall windows. Obi-Wan pulled off his shirt, remaining in his pants and undershirt, Anakin took off the hooded cape he usually wore over his shirt, and mechanically smoothed his hair. He needed to do something with it. Here, in the humid tropical climate of Carati, his hair curled more than usual and was constantly sweaty under the hood. 

Several people came into the training room and settled on a bench in the corner. Anakin could have kicked them out, but he didn't. He did not want to quarrel with the locals over mundane things, he forced himself to behave. Just like he forced himself to take medications on schedule and go to a physiotherapist before. He didn’t want Luke and Ahsoka to regret their trust in him. He didn’t want them to listen to all these "we told you that this asshole is not capable of behaving normally! If you stop controlling him, he will strangle coworkers simply because he can." Luke had already suffered enough because of Anakin.

Obi-Wan and Anakin activated their swords and moved away from each other. Anakin looked around the room. The four rebels on the bench sat down as if they had come to the theater. 

“I wonder what attracted them here: the battle or Obi-Wan in an undershirt?”

“Attack," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, he didn't even nod. Anakin barely had time to raise his sword and parry the first blow.

Obi-Wan's attacks followed one after another, giving Anakin no break. He had to grab the hilt with both hands to ward off another blow — so strong that it made Anakin's hands ache in the place where the living tissue connected to the prostheses. Obi-Wan flipped in the air and landed on the floor behind Anakin. It was hard to repel another attack. 

Each of their sparring caused huge amounts of annoyance to Anakin. Obi-Wan returned from the dead healthy, able to fight at his full strength, Anakin had to adjust his style to the new limitations of his body for the second time in a row. Now he moved faster and more freely than in Darth Vader's armor, but he could no longer hit with the same strength, exhausting the opponent. He had to be more careful and attentive, more defensive than attacking.

He was used to looking for a gap in the enemy's defense with sharp blows from all sides. Obi-Wan barely had any gaps in his defense. When Anakin managed to attack, Obi-Wan stopped his sword, as if he knew in advance what move Anakin would choose. 

Deceptive techniques wouldn’t help, because Obi-Wan was the one who taught Anakin them.

"You couldn't beat him up even when you were young and healthy, what do you want now?"

He wanted to win, of course. Obi-Wan, unlike Ahsoka, never succumbed to him. Anakin, still weak after treatment and too stubborn to admit it, almost instantly found himself on the floor, without his lightsaber. Ahsoka even reproached Obi-Wan for mocking Anakin.

"Does Anakin want me to succumb to him?"

"Of course, I don’t," Anakin replied.

Ahsoka looked at them and rolled her eyes.

And yet, despite the endless losses — it would take many months of intense training before he could fight on a par with Obi-Wan — he liked sparring. He could just fight. For fun. Without excruciating pain in his body. Without the constant expectation for the Master—the other one—to punish him for his weakness.

Anakin focused on the fight again. 

No distractions. Obi-Wan would definitely take advantage of his mistake, which he would make inevitably. Anakin felt that the fight was coming to an end. He was already tired, he couldn't keep up the same pace. He needed a break. 

And finally, Anakin didn't have time to react. He barely had time to notice the blue blade of the lightsaber rushing towards his hand. At the last moment, Obi-Wan turned off the sword, and only the silver hilt crashed into Anakin's wrist.

This blow shouldn't have worked, artificial hands don't hurt, but Anakin's new prosthetic was much more sensitive than the old one, and he, stunned by a wave of sensations — not quite pain—unclenched his fingers. The sword fell off. 

Anakin was breathing heavily. His lungs recovered, but they were still not enough for a serious lightsaber fight. It will pass eventually.

"You're too focused on not losing, and you should pay attention to technique," Obi-Wan said sternly.

“Are you going to lecture me again?” Anakin snapped.

He ran his palm over his forehead, wiping the beads of sweat.

"Should I just sprawl you on the floor without any commentary next time?” 

Anakin grunted vaguely. He didn't like being lectured by Obi-Wan and he wouldn't have liked it even more if Obi-Wan said nothing.

“You've never been good at losing a battle, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued. — “You should have learned it already at your age”.

“It's easy for you to say,” Anakin wanted to answer. "There's nothing wrong with you."

He didn't say it out loud, knowing that any of his excuses would sound ridiculous now. He needed training and asked Obi-Wan to spar himself. 

“Shall we repeat it?” he asked instead.

“Let's rest first," Obi-Wan said much more gently. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan didn't need to rest, and this respite was just for him. He sat down on another bench against the wall, where no one else was sitting, and closed his eyes. Obi-Wan soon joined him with two glasses of water from the vending machine. He handed one of them to Anakin.

“Thank you," he replied with a weak smile.

[reallyromealone]

Hey hey I wasn’t the one who sent the anon about the text but could I request that if I need to send a formal request I will it just sounds interesting but um I respect Rome and love your writing

Hi, can I request bonten receiving a rlly naughty text from their innocent and sweet husband during a meeting about something, like the picture(s) are M/N in a lingerie or just a revealing outfit with heels/stockings and being in seductive pose and a sexual message w the pics as well? With some smutt in it pls :D have cool day :}}

You sure can, but people please follow my rules so your requests actually get written

(Name) all things considered was pretty fucking innocent, surprising as his husband's were well...bonten.

But it wasn't really surprising when realizing (name) was incredibly sheltered his entire life up to meeting them.

But apparently not as innocent as his husband's thought.

(Name) giggled as he set up his phone dressed in stockings and heels, lacy panties covering his cock and a lacy sheer bralette covering his chest.

Starting the recording (name) spread his legs and gently rubbed his inner thighs, barely touching his cock "can't wait for you guys to play with me..." His tone breathy before he began touching his cock, slow firm strokes against his panties "fuck... Yes"

All the Bonten men stared wide eyed as they watched their lover touch and play with himself, the video they sent at first seemed inconspicuous enough, he did like sending videos of cute things he found.

This? This was very new and very welcome, their husband never being the one to initiate sex, far to nervous to do so but this... They all saved it to their phone in their jerk off folders.

"Meeting adjourned" Mikey said bluntly as they all got up, an uncomfortable tightness in their pants as they booked it home where their vixen husband was.

(Name) was a little annoyed they didn't reply to his texts and decided to just play with himself, already feeling hot and bothered, a hand gently going into the bra to play with his nipples and the other gently stroking his cock above the panties "shit..." He whined, toes curling as he played with himself "god what a treat" a voice cut through as he looked at his husband's who were already taking off their pants to reveal their hard cocks "out sweet babydoll so slutty... Fuck"

The men stood around the bed and stared down their scantily clad husband who was red faced and so so pretty for them. The med crowded him, touching and squeezing wherever they felt "gonna fucking ruin you" Sanzu mumbled "baby boy doesn't know what he just opened" Koko almost laughed as a cock was pressed to (name)s lips "use that pretty mouth baby" ran whispered to (name) who suddenly got shy "oh? Getting shy on us now? Where was that slutty attitude ~?"

"Didn't think you guys would come home for that..." (Name) mumbled and the man looked at him almost condicendingly "you show us a video of you in these slutty clothes touching yourself and you didn't think we wouldn't come home and destroy you? Well the pretty ones are usually not the brightest huh" Rindō spat out with a feral grin, mouth right above his husband's panty covered cock "im not dumb..." (Name) huffed out, whining as Kakucho pinched one of his nipples "really? Because smart boys would know that something like that would get their husbands riled up"

"Now...take responsibility for what you did baby"

(Name) was held up by Mikey, legs bent around his arms as Mikey and Kakucho fucked his ass, Ran fucking his throat raw and don't worry Koko and Sanzu were using his hands too.

Mochi, Rindō and Takeomi waited their turn with (name) slowly stroking their cocks "he's taking those cocks like a champ" "reminds me of our honeymoon..."

(Name) was fucked by everyone through the night "this bra almost makes it seem like you have tits!" Sanzu cackled as he fucked (name)s nonexistent tits while takeomi fucked his ass, poor (name)s head bent over the bed so that Mochis cock could ruin his throat "god damn! No matter what we do you're like a virgin!"

By the end the eight men circled (name) who was filled with cum, spent from cumming over and over again "take it baby" and with that (name) was covered with cum, the men squirting all over him and he just took it like a good husband.

[fairyofjaeyun]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride.

my exact internal dialogue when I see a pic of jake 😭😭😭😭😭

[tuxedaaron]

This pair of pics was intended to reveal the design of Hobgoblin I came up with for the Spectacular Spider-Man animated series, just to give everyone a little preview of a series of Spectacular Spider-Man fanfics I wanted to write.  Because I had so many stories in this series to write, there was simply no way I could POSSIBLY do it on my own.  So I took it upon myself to draw some pics of some of the broader concepts I have in mind, in the hopes that it might draw interest from other fanfic writers to help me. Hobgoblin was definitely one of the first pics I wanted to get out there, because I plan for him to play a BIG role in these stories.  Those who are well-versed in their comic book history will undoubtedly recognize the first image as being inspired by 1983's "Amazing Spider-Man", issue #238, “In the Shadow of Evil’s Past”, which marked the Hobgoblin's first appearance.  Granted, on that cover, the Hobgoblin is seen destroying Spider-Man's costume, but replacing it with the Green Goblin costume, to me, was far more significant in its symbolism. After all, let's be honest, folks.  We ALL know that Roderick Kingsley is the ONLY Goblin that matters.^_^ I have to admit, though, that is the most dubious I'd ever been on any art project I've worked on to date.  While I refused to be deterred and continued to press onward, even as I moved from the pencil work to the hard lines, the whole thing just looked like a jumbled mess and I really couldn't tell which way was up, just by looking at it.  It wasn't until I started adding the color in that everything started to finally come together.  Still, while I was reasonably pleased with the outcome, the final product still seemed overly cartoonish, even by SSM design standards. The second image was definitely better, as I sat down and started putting a proper design together.  The head turned out to be the easiest part.  Just like with the comics, I simply took the original Green Goblin face, gave it less exaggerated features, demonic red eyes and voila.  It was maybe two minutes of work and I was just like, "There.  That's it.  THAT'S my Hobgoblin".  But THEN, I had to start designing the actual COSTUME and THAT'S when I ran into problems. Most of the issues stemmed from the fact that I was getting too focused on "classic" Hobgoblin and those elements I wanted to have from the comics.  I even wanted the curled-up, pointy shoes.   But as I went back and looked over the SSM Green Goblin design, I realized just how many things were radically different.  For one thing, he wasn't wearing the pointy elf hat, but more like a flight cap without the goggles.  And he didn't have a tunic over his chest, either, it looked more like chest armor.  And then, there was the jack-o-lantern belt buckle and the loincloth and the big, honkin' space booties.  And I was just like, "Uuuh-hhhh...how do I make THIS work?". Because I couldn't get tunnel-visioned on the classic stuff and end up doing a total tear-down of the design.  One of the aspects of Hobgoblin was that both he and Green Goblin shared the same basic design elements in their costumes.  So how was I going to maintain the spirit of the new SSM design and still input the things I wanted? That was when I realized I had to take a step back and look at the whole concept objectively.  And when I was at work that night, I started thinking about Roderick Kingsley's mindset in the comics when he started knocking around the idea of becoming the Hobgoblin.  While he liked the whole Goblin concept in general, which is why he kept the basic elements intact, the one thing he knew he DIDN'T want to be was another GREEN Goblin.  Because as far as Kingsley was concerned, Norman Osborn was a clown and he LOOKED like one.  And Kingsley decided right out of the gate that if he was gonna DO this thing, he didn't want to look like a clown.  He wanted to look like a BADASS. So that's what got me thinking, how do I take all the elements that made the Green Goblin look GOOFY and turn them around to make the Hobgoblin look DANGEROUS?  And that was when all these ideas started flooding into my head, which I just HAD to get on paper the next morning.  I took the jack-o-lantern belt buckle and turned it into a skull, ripped up the loincloth and the cape, threw in some chains and leather straps and even added spikes on the boots...which, if you notice, actually allowed me to give Hobgoblin the curly boots I wanted without ACTUALLY making them.  And as for the glider, I went and added horns.  Basically, the whole idea was to make him look like some demon who had just escaped from Hell, and despite the cartoonish look of the SSM character designs, I think I pulled it off quite nicely. All-in-all, I'm quite happy with this pic and even if the stories never get written, I hope everyone else at least likes the image. ^_^

[kamiversee]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL2p8QrL/

felt I had to share this with you 😭

OH MY GOD. THE FIRST PIC? IM GONNA CUM😩😩

CHOSO PLEASE GET ME PREGNANT OMFG-

Sigh… Im afraid I have to do this…

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride the absolute fuck out of Choso Kamo. 😸

[limi-strology]

Long astrology related rant ahead:

Topic: Leo placements and hair

Okay, so I'm a Leo rising and when I was younger my hair was really beautiful, like the curls that are usually seen in movies depicting royalty or something.

However, growing up, the curls kinda left but at least it was still wavy. Welp, until middle school because I kept straightening my hair. I would also frequently have my hair up in high ponytails (because of gym at school and sports later in the day), which I almost always tied too tightly.

Later on, as if frying my hair and forcing it in tight ponytails all the time wasn't already a problem, I would brush my hair too aggressively whenever I was in a hurry or angry at someone, so I basically pulled at it. And, to top it all off, due to high stress from high school finals (greek finals are a fucking nightmare, let me tell you), my hair started falling out like CRAZY.

I lost so much hair that year that I've since kept my hair around shoulder length until it heals a bit. I also use treatments, oils, take vitamins and try to let my hair air dry whenever possible, and thankfully my hair is slowly getting better (and because of the humidity where I live, the waves/curls are coming back as well!)

However, seeing all these posts about Leo placements having such amazing hair makes me a little self-conscious as my hair is pretty thin, sparse and quite fragile 🙃

I just feel kinda upset because all this aggression towards my hair started when I broke up with my ex, and I can't help but wonder if my hair would still be alright today had I never dated him (I straightened my hair a lot more while we were in a relationship).

It's annoying because I used to have long soft hair that started as dark brown at the roots and gradually got more blonde towards the end and I just fucking destroyed it 🥲 Idk, any other Leo risings with really thin hair understand me on this??

For reference, here's my hair through the past 5ish? years:

Top left: 2019 Top right: 2020

Bottom left: 2021 Bottom right: 2022

(Idk if it shows well, but in the last photo you can kinda see that there's little volume in my hair, it's kinda flat and it looks much thinner than the first two pics)

So, yeah, to my fellow Leo risings: Do you also sometimes get a little insecure about your hair? Have there been periods where your hair was a bit damaged? Do you dye/straighten/curl/tie it up a lot? Do you have a specific hair care routine you do?

Feel free to share your thoughts or any advice, I'm just wondering if there's more individuals who feel like they don't exactly match the typical image of their sign.

To anyone who read this entire thing, sorry for the long rant, I didn't realise how much I had to say on this 😅 Anyways, thanks for dealing with me, I hope you have a wonderful day! 😊🤍

[crescent14]

Secrets

Sorry for going MIA, but I am indeed alive. Here's a continuation to my story, enjoy!

AO3

"Hahahaha. There is no way that is true.", Adrien blurted out while wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"But it is!" Marinette defended, " Alya was even yelling at me to not go through with setting them up." Adrien kept snickering when she said that.

They were snuggled up on Marinette's chaise longue talking and laughing as the end credits of 'A Whisker Away' were rolling on her tablet, long forgotten by the couple. They were talking about how long they truly felt something for each other and everything they went through to get to where they were now- Adrien didn't even have to sneak out of his house (as Adrien or Chat Noir) to come to Marinette's place for what was supposed to be a study date but ended up with them finishing homework in an hour before deciding to watch a movie.

Since the chaise was too narrow for them to comfortably sit side-by-side, they decided to sit with Adrien's back on the board of the chaise and Mari's back to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head so that he could easily watch the movie as she held the tablet. He hugged her around her waist from behind as they snuggled into each other, watching the romantic movie.

In the past, when Marinette had friends over, her parents let them do whatever they wanted- so long as they didn't destroy the house- but when it was just Adrien, they were a little strict about keeping the trap door to her room open the entire time. They had no objections to that, so they obliged.

Once the movie ended, the young couple started talking about how long they liked each other. Marinette related to the movie's female protagonist since they both liked a guy long before he had any feelings for her.

Adrien would've jumped off the seat if Marinette wasn't pressed into him when he heard how long she liked him.

"Is that why you were always so nervous while talking to me?", he had always assumed his last name seemed intimidating for someone trying to get into the fashion industry, which was why he didn't take her stuttering as offensive in any way.

"Yeah, I was so afraid I would say the wrong thing, so I was always second-guessing myself around you.", she blushed, embarrassed that she had actually admitted her long-time crush to him.

"It's honestly more flattering to know that was the real reason you acted that way around me. I always thought it was because of my last name.", he quickly said, so she wouldn't try to curl up on herself.

Learning what happened when she tried to confess her love to someone for the first time, he couldn't exactly blame Marinette for putting up a barrier around her heart when it came to crushes. Adrien was her first crush after that incident, which was why she was so afraid to say what was truly on her mind.

So that neither one of them would get the chance to feel secure around the other, they promised that if one of them shared a secret or admitted something embarrassing, then so would the other. That way, they would not only learn more about each other, but they could help take down the barriers together.

They were currently talking about their trip to the zoo, where Marinette admitted she thought Adrien was the one to ask her on a date. In her defence, Nino was too frozen to speak, and Adrien was the one who planned the trip with her on his behalf, she just had no idea about that one tiny detail. Nino and Alya had already told her that Adrien was coaching Nino from behind the bushes, but it was news to Adrien that Alya was doing the same with Marinette. He burst into laughter realizing that she overheard everything, Nino said about his (fake) crush on her.

"I just realized, you lied when you said that these pics of me around your room were because you were into fashion, didn't you?", he gave her the same smug smirk he did the last time he asked her about them, but this time, she turned away to try and hide the blush he had already seen.

"I didn't exactly lie-", she started timidly.

"But you weren't telling the whole truth either.", Adrien finished for her. She shook her head no. "Everyone in our class knew about my crush on you, including Chloe. I'm honestly surprised she never told you."

Adrien chuckled at her comment. "I can't believe Nino managed not to tell me, considering how bad he is at keeping secrets.", he thought back to the time he told him about Carapace and Alya as Rena Rouge. "Alya sort of threatened him not to say anything.", she looked away shyly, "But I always thought he would eventually crack and tell you. It's the reason why most of the guys didn't say anything really, the girls helped keep them at bay."

That comment made Adrien curious, "Did you and Alya ever call the girls to talk about keeping your crush a secret?", he imagined the girls all huddled up in her room talking about him during a sleepover, which made him feel a little conscious about what their opinions about him were.

 "Not exactly...", Marinette commented, raising his curiosity. So, she ended up telling him everything about 'Operation Secret Garden' and how it was interrupted by a giant akumatized baby. "We even had flower-based code names for everyone.", Marinette giggled at the memory. She truly couldn't ask for better friends.

The mention of code names got Adrien thinking about the time he helped her with her confession to a certain 'Buttercup' as Chat Noir. The confession was truly beautiful, but if what she said was true- that she liked him since the very beginning- what were the chances the confession was meant for him? He had to know without telling her he knew about the practice session she put him through. He would tell her one day, there was no doubt about it.

"You said everyone got code names? What kind?", Adrien asked trying his best to sound nonchalant about it.

Thankfully, Marinette told him without hesitation, "Mine was Lotus, Alya was tiger lily, Mylene was sunflower, Rose was tulip, Alix was violet and Juleka was rose. That was a mistake since Rose kept getting confused on who we were referring to.", Marinette giggled. Adrien smiled at the thought of them running around the Trochadero calling each other code names, but he noticed she only mentioned the names they gave within the group. Was this little plan not when they gave him the codename? Was it spur of the moment? How would he ask that? Adrien was not supposed to know about the codename 'Buttercup'.

Maybe a certain black cat could come over for a visit to try and find out what Adrien could not.

"Hey", Marinette interrupted his train of thought, "Can I ask you something?" She knew she didn't need permission, but the fact that she actually asked meant this question was not easy for her to say, Adrien would have to try his best to answer honestly, or as honestly as he could if it had anything to do with Chat Noir.

"You know you can ask me anything.", he gave her the most genuine smile ever, with a look full of adoration that made her heart flip in her chest. She almost forgot what she wanted to ask him. Almost.

"What- ", she wanted to ask about the other girl Adrien mentioned back when they were in the Grevin Museum the first time but didn't know how to bring it up without sounding insecure. 

"Marinette! Adrien! Come down for dinner!", Sabine's voice interrupted her, and she took it as a reason to postpone her question for another day.

"Dinner? How long have I stayed over?", Adrien wondered as they started to get up to pack up their books which were still scrawled all over the floor.

"Time flies when you're having fun.", Marinette stated with a smile that made him wish they could forego dinner to just spend their time cuddling in each other's arms. He immediately shook his head of such thoughts, they were just 14.

Dinner was short, spent talking about everyone's day and hopes for the new school year. Mayor Bustier's new school allowed everyone to spend their high school years finalizing their future career aspirations, or furthering their skills if their minds were already made up. They all decided to take as much time as they could to go through every career possible till Adrien found the one that suited him perfectly, he could not be more grateful. Coming to school last year was no doubt the best decision of his life.

At the end of dinner, Marinette's parents bid the kids goodnight before heading to bed. Throughout the summer, the teens would spend entire days at each other's houses when they didn't have plans with anyone else in their friend group, so their parents were able to predict the they were going to busy having fun, after all, they were finally starting high school, they deserved it.

As much as they wanted Adrien to stay a little longer, her parents forbid it after they went to bed, which meant it was also time for Adrien to head home. In order to spend more time together, they would walk each other home hand-in-hand, and then continue their talks over the phone on the way back to their own houses, which is exactly what they were going to do.

Marinette realized too late that this was the perfect opportunity to continue the discussion they were having before dinner. Too late because Adrien seemed to realize it a second earlier than her, "So what was the question you wanted to ask me before we were called for dinner?". Adrien would be lying if he said he wasn't curious, what could possibly make her so nervous around him?

Her blush did nothing to slow the rapid beating of hi heart as the wait began to slowly kill him, "Remember when we first visited the Grevin Museum, with Alya and Nino?"

The name of the museum immediately took Adrien's mind to the prank he pulled on her and what she said in retaliation, in order save face from everything she had said while he pretended to be a statue. He realized that some part of what she told him that day was not true, and he stopped in his tracks face palming at how dense he was, "Adrien, what's wrong?", Marinette stopped with him, squeezing his hand with worry etched on her face. He pulled her into a tight hug before answering, "I'm so sorry I never realized. When you said I was 'not a good friend', I had no idea you were referring to me as more than a friend. It was when I was pretending to be a statue and you said all those nice things before kissing me that I could no longer deny I was feeling something for you. It took me a while to convince myself that what I was feeling was love, which is why I asked you to our second visit with Kagami and Luka."

That was all Marinette needed to hear at the moment, as she buried her face in his chest, hugging him tightly. "I was mortified when you pulled back, so I thought saying I knew it was a prank would stop you from questioning my actions. I am so sorry I confused you. I- ", she was interrupted with a pair of lips on her own. It took her a second to realize that Adrien was kissing her, before she reciprocated with just as much fervour. She got up on her toes to deepen the kiss as her arms snaked around his neck, he walked them back till she hit a wall behind her. They pulled back when air became a necessity, "Don't you dare apologize for what happened. Everything that happened between us got us to where we are now, I wouldn't change those memories for the world, good or bad. I love you, that's all the matters.", they stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity before their phones beeped an alarm, they were cutting it close to curfew. They were getting ready to sprint when they looked up to realize they were already at his house.

"I love you too. And I feel the same way about our memories together.", Marinette whispered, with a loving smile. They shared another lingering kiss before they reluctantly parted ways and she made her way home.

[mingitheestallion]

@brishtii​ r u seeing r u 👀 r u 👁 👁

210408 naver update!

[dancing-in-a-yellow-dress]

Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

--

You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

--

Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[underthemooncover]

Down Hill

                                  CHAPTER ONE: Celadon Green                          chapter song—-- Clean Up In Aisle 4 by JEN Z

“Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.”                                                                                         ― Lemony Snicket

Stepping out of the building, she felt like she could breathe again. June took a deep breath, welcoming the light breeze blowing through. She walked up to the little cafe on the block, the smell of coffee and cookie dough wafting towards her. 

After ordering a cappuccino and a chocolate muffin, June was happy to sit down again. The interview had taken a lot out of her and she was ready to crawl the rest of the day. She thought it went well, but who knows what was going on in that lady’s mind? She looked like she was going to pounce on June the moment she moved. She switched on her phone- 33 messages?! Lizzie. Of course, freaking out about what to wear for her first date. She scrolled through the pics, hoping to see any outfit she liked. 

Too short.

Too long.

Is she going goth?

Is this the French Revolution?

Pajamas?!

Is it Halloween?

Finally, after the craze was over, she found the perfect look for her cousin. Just as she texted her back, the order was ready and she barely managed to hold in a sigh. After a meal equal to paradise, June left the cafe, ready to spend the rest of the day holed up in her apartment.

Hailing a taxi was a nightmare. After 12 failed attempts, she dragged herself to the subway, trying not to flip off the taxi drivers.

June tried not to nod off every five minutes. By some miracle, the train she was on wasn’t as crowded as usual, allowing her to find a seat. Only a few people were scattered here and there. The train had stopped at a platform but no one was getting in. As the doors were closing, a man stumbled in. He looked like he was gonna be sick. His eyes were red and his face was an unusual shade of green.

 The worst part was that he seemed to be heading her way. Just as she was about to run, the guy went past her, looking at something else. June relaxed a bit, relieved she wasn’t the target.

Her eyes followed the man. 

He approached a guy standing at the end of the compartment. He didn’t notice anything, just focusing on the music blaring from his headphones.

Without warning, the man lunged at him, pushing him against the glass. A yelp of pain escaped the poor guy. Getting over his shock, he punched his attacker, ready to defend himself. June jumped up to help him, so did a few others. Both the men started fighting, although the weird man had a confusing set of moves. He looked like he had never punched someone in his life. 

Abruptly, his victim backed away and he doubled over, retching. As strange as it was to say, watching him attack a random person was less horrifying than seeing him throw up.

Thankfully, the train stopped at a platform, allowing everyone to get away. Outside, as people started asking the guy if he was okay, he began yelling,

“He bit me! I can’t believe he bit me!”

That’s when June noticed what he was talking about. On his shoulder was a clear bite mark, which was rapidly turning the same shade of green. It looked awful, making her wanna throw up.

As she turned towards the stairs and some people started calling the cops, she failed to notice that the man in the train had vanished, leaving behind nothing but claw marks.

Waking up early at 5:30 in the morning, giving a confusing long interview, having to go home by the subway and finally, The Incident. It was the shittiest day June had ever had.

She grabbed a bowl of ice cream, curled up on her couch and just as she clicked play, someone knocked on her door. 

Great.

Groaning, she stood up, walked all the way over to the door and opened it to deal with the person who had just destroyed the only peace she had the whole day. 

“Hey, girl….Woahh, what happened to you?”

At the door, was the person who was also the reason June had moved to New York.

“Hey, Grace.”

The blonde woman walked past her, taking in the sight of her apartment.

“Did a hurricane hit this place or something?” She asked.

Concerned, she turned around to look at her. June fell back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Just been the usual shitty day.”

play chapter song here

Disclaimer: Any similarities to anyone or anything in this story is purely coincidental. This work is purely fictional.

[izaswritings]

Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it. 

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.  

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

.

chapter one: battling birds

. 

They give him a room near the east side of the house, stuffed full of broken things and a miscellaneous number of random items. It’s not the human’s old room, and not Lilith’s, either—there’s too much dust and too much stuff for either option. Hunter can’t tell if he’s grateful for this or not. He’s still deciding on whether he’s grateful for the room at all.

There’s no time to set up a bed. He spends his first night here on a blanket, restless and half-awake and lying so still he’s half-convinced he’s shaking from the strain of not moving at all, not making a single sound. He can practically taste the dust on every inhale—does the Owl Lady ever clean, Titan help him—and by some godawful midnight hour Hunter gives up on sleep entirely and sits up, carefully, to whisper to his palisman. 

Nothing important. None of the real questions that are swirling around in his head, like what am I even doing here and why am I still here and what am I supposed to do now, do you know? Instead he just says nonsense things, useless things, like “If I shine a flashlight in that little demon’s face do you think I could get him to chase the dot?”

The palisman coos and chirps and sings nonsense back. Red is a pretty color. I like tulips. If we iced over the Boiling Sea could we make human rain? 

“None of those answers make sense,” Hunter tells it, and then writes a small note about the sea and rain connection on the dusty floor, if only because that’s actually kind of interesting and he wants to check it out again later. 

Red tulips are tasty, replies the palisman, and nuzzles his fingers when he goes to pet it. Its feathers are soft and its eyes are luminous in the moonlight. Nonsense, all of it, but the nonsense helps—familiar as a friend, safe and easy. Better than thinking of Belos. Better than wondering what he’s doing here, sleeping on the floor in the Owl Lady’s house.

The human has left. He could walk out right now and she’d never know, not that her disappointment has any bearing on if he chooses to stay or go. She’s vanished back to the human world, probably gone forever. This house means nothing to Hunter—the Owl Lady is annoying and dislikes him about as much as Hunter dislikes her, and as endearing as the weird little demon is, that isn’t enough to make Hunter want to stay. 

He could leave easily. He could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hunter tells the palisman, at last, hours later. It is almost morning. The sunrise has only just begun, the peace of this dusty attic room wavering thin and fragile in the light of early dawn. It is a quiet admission. He says it very soft. “I don’t know if I know anything.”

I love you, says the palisman.

“That’s not an answer either.” 

Oh, well.

Twenty minutes later, the Owl Lady’s weird bird-worm security creature bursts through the window and sings good morning loud enough to shatter eardrums. Hunter grabs his staff, throws a blast at the thing on instinct, teleports to the kitchen in a panic, and smacks the Owl Lady in the face with his palisman first thing in the morning.

.

The easy explanation is this: the castle falls and Belos dies and the Golden Guard somehow survives it all: portal collapse and half-realm merge and everything, which means when the dust settles, ultimately Hunter is left with absolutely no idea of what to do with himself. 

“You should work with Eda!” says the human, in the aftermath. Given she says this in the ruin of what was once the Emperor’s castle, barely a half hour after—everything—Hunter feels pretty justified in his response. Which is to say he strangles his broken mechanical staff in his hands, takes a deep breath, and says in a very tight voice: “No.”

“But—!”

“No. No, no, no. I can’t even believe I did this, I don’t… it’s not happening. No.”

The human—he does actually know her name by now, after all they’ve been through, but also given all of This Nonsense she has lost name privileges—does not take that well. Of course she doesn’t. She’s so fourteen it makes Hunter want to die inside.  

“Why not?” the human says, petulant. She has her hands on her hips and everything. 

Hunter is kneeling in the rubble of a castle he’s called home for almost all his life. Somewhere down there is the throne where Belos used to sit; somewhere down there is a body. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s not a shock. From the moment the palisman fluttered into his life and Hunter let it stay, he always knew, deep down, that one day he was going to have to choose. 

It does not make breathing any easier. “I don’t want to,” he says. 

“You can learn wild magic! And, and glyphs! Eda knows a lot—”

“Does the Owl Lady know you’re offering up her house to an old enemy?” 

“Eda won’t mind. Well, okay, maybe she’ll mind a little, but— she’ll let you stay if I ask her!” Yeah. The Owl Lady probably would. The human has that witch wrapped around her little finger; Hunter almost snorts. “Please, just hear me out. I’m sure we can—”

“No.”

“Hunter…”

“Don’t talk like we’re friends,” Hunter hisses. He drops the broken remains of the mechanical staff and stands, his hands curled to fists. “Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know anything. You don’t—” He can’t breathe. He drops back to his knees in the rubble and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just stop. Please.”

The human doesn’t say anything for a long time. On his shoulder, the palisman, thus far staying silent, flutters its wings and hops down to his knee, nudging his hand with its beak. It sings nothing. Just stays there.

After a moment, the human kneels next to him. There is blood on her face and dirt staining her leggings. “I know,” she says, and she suddenly sounds very tired. “I’m sorry.” 

Hunter doesn’t say anything.

“I just—” the human starts, and then she stops. “I don’t know how else to help you.”

She looks small and weirdly sad, which makes no sense at all, because she hated Belos and never really understood why Hunter did not. (Hunter is not sure why either. If that is still something he can say. If you can betray your uncle and fight against your uncle and—and— and do these things, do everything Hunter has done, and still say that this feeling isn’t hatred.)

They aren’t friends, Hunter and the human. They have barely been allies. He doesn’t need her help, and she probably knows that as well as he does. But Hunter looks at her then, and despite the rubble and the ash and the blood on his tongue, for some reason instead of digging himself a makeshift grave he says—

“…Okay.”

Which still doesn’t really explain anything, but then, that’s just how it goes.

.

“Okay!” says the Owl Lady, smacking down her second cup of apple blood on the table. She does it too hard—a good splash of blood escapes the confines of the cup and adds yet another stain to her already-stained dining table. Hunter raises an eyebrow. The Owl Lady glares back. “House rules.”

There’s a red mark on her cheek, still, from where Hunter had hit her with his staff, and a stain all down her side from when, upon being hit with the staff, the Owl Lady spluttered and cursed and accidentally spilt the first cup of apple blood all over herself and the floor. She looks… barely awake. 

“House rules,” Hunter echoes, dryly.

“Your scorn is noted and not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His palisman pecks his hand lightly. “Ow.”

“Luz, you owe me one,” mutters the Owl Lady, and takes a really deep drink of her apple blood. Hunter rubs at his hand, peeved, and eyes the palisman in case it gets any more hand-pecking ideas. The palisman blinks innocently back. Hmm.

“So. First of all.” The Owl Lady raises a finger. “Break any of my stuff and I end you.”

So just like the castle, then. Hunter sees where this is going. He settles gingerly back against the chair—why, why is all of her furniture stained—and rests his cheek against one fist, already bored. “Noted.”

The Owl Lady puts up a second finger. There’s a long silence.

“…Seriously?” says Hunter.

“Quiet, you.” She snaps her fingers. “Hah! Got one! Hurt King or Luz or Hooty or anyone I like in any way and I’ll destroy you. Yeah, that works.”

Hunter gets the sneaking suspicion these house rules are being made up on the spot, and are also only for him. He knows better than to say that aloud. “Fine.” Wait. “How am I supposed to know which random people you like or dislike?”

The Owl Lady grins. Her gold fang glints. “That sounds like a you problem, don’t you think?” She cackles a little. “Guess you’ll just have to find out! Or, you know. Maybe don’t attack anyone? That’s a start.” 

Her owl palisman coos a little. Her nose wrinkles. “What? What do you mean that’s hypocritical? Stay out of this, Owlbert, I’m teaching life lessons or something.” Her eyes turn to him. “Anyway. You get the gist.”

Hunter’s hand is curled white-knuckled around his knee. His palisman flutters from the table to his shoulder, singing nonsense again. Red tulips, so tasty. Its feathers brush against his cheek. 

He pries his grip off his knee one finger at a time. “…Understood.”

“Good.” The Owl Lady stands and stretches, yawning wide into one hand. “Anyway, I’ll give you a pass for this morning, because Hooty can be…” She trails off. Outside, muffled by the front door, the bird-worm creature shouts “HOOT” at full volume and then smacks into a tree.

“…a lot,” decides the Owl Lady. “But seriously, keep the windows locked. I don’t want you trying to blast him and burning my house down. I just got it back.”

Hunter says nothing. The Owl Lady squints at him and then picks her mug back up. “Riiiight… well, good talk, I guess. Get some more sleep, kid, you look worse than Luz after an all-nighter.” She waits. Hunter raises an eyebrow at her. “Ugh. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

At least Hunter isn’t the only one second-guessing everything. Still, that reminds him. “The human.”

“Luz,” says the Owl Lady, unimpressed. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He links his fingers. The palisman flies down from his shoulder to his cupped hands, and hops a determined circle in his palm for no apparent reason. Hunter watches it play. “…Is she coming back?”

“What, tired of our company already?” 

“Yes,” Hunter says, because obviously.

“Rude. Well, can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.” There’s a long silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “Luz… she promised she’d come back. You were there, weren’t you?”

Yeah, he had been. Standing in the back of the group, on the fringes of the goodbye. Two hours after the end, and the human had already roped the Owl Lady into letting Hunter live in her stupid owl house, and also somehow run around hugging pretty much everyone. And then she’d stepped through the mirrors that were all that remained of the realm-merge between her world and theirs, and not come back since. 

She had, indeed, promised to return. But that was hours ago; that was yesterday. The mirrors are gone and no doors remain. And Hunter does not put much faith in promises. 

“And when,” he asks the Owl Lady, a little lofty, a little snide. “When, exactly, do you think she’s coming back?”

The Owl Lady’s eyes narrow. Her lips press thin. For a moment he thinks she might snap at him, but then her shoulders slump, and in the end she just looks away.

“I don’t know,” the Owl Lady admits. 

Useless, Hunter thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Just nods and turns away to head back upstairs and make that stupid dusty storage room somewhat presentable, because if he’s going to be staying here for—for—for whatever amount of time he ends up staying here, he’s going to breathe actual air instead of dust, thanks.

“Remember, kid! House rules!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter says, and teleports back up the stairs without a single glance back.

.

Hunter manages to shove all the junk into one corner and make the start of a fairly presentable bed in the other corner by the time the human re-arrives in the Boiling Isles and throws open his door hard enough to smack it against the wall.

“You took my advice!” shouts the human, at the top of her lungs.

“Hiiiiii,” says Hunter, hands over his ears. The human takes a deep breath. Hunter closes the door in her face. “Byeeee.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you yelling.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s just nonsensical enough to get him to open the door. Why does this always happen to him? Why is the human like this? “You said I should come here! You said—”

“Psh,” says the human and flaps a hand in his face. Hunter stops mid-word, gritting his teeth, practically feeling his whole face turn bright red with rage. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just— I didn’t think you would actually listen! But you’re here!” She’s beaming. Hunter looks away. Her smile fades. “…Are you okay?”

He can’t sleep. His eyes are hot and burning like he wants to cry and he has no idea why. His uncle is dead. 

“No,” he tells her. “No one in this house dusts. I’ve forgotten what air tastes like.”

“Psh-haw! I’m sure it's not that…” The human steps inside, inhales, and chokes. “Oh. Ay Dios mío. Wow, this room has not been dusted.”

“I noticed!”

“Oh, man.” She hides her nose in her elbow and sidles outside again. She’s wearing her weird human clothes and her palisman staff strapped to her back. She looks tired, and a little like she has no idea what she’s doing here either. She lingers in the door almost awkwardly, rolling back and forth from her heels to her toes. 

Hunter watches her for a long moment. “You came back.”

“Haha. What gave it away?” But the smile she gives is small and blinding, brighter than the sun. “Watch this.”

“Watch wha—” The human lifts her hand and trails it through the air, dragging her fingers down in a straight line. Golden light follows her fingers. It breaks the air like a fractured mirror, a rift sparking to life in the hallway, the dark greens and blues of a galaxy intertwined with a burning glow. Hunter’s voice dies in his throat. 

“If I push at it, it opens. Like a door. It leads me right home.” She’s smiling so wide it must hurt. The portal almost seems to whisper; the golden glow of the rift shines in her eyes and catches on her face, still tear-streaked. The human’s cried over this. She’s right to. The human world and the Boiling Isles—she has found a way to keep both.

Presumably he thinks he should be jealous. Instead he finds himself smiling too. “I’m glad,” Hunter tells her. “That’s… pretty cool.”

“Right!?” She bounces on her heels and waves a hand through the rift, dismissing it into nothing. “I can’t wait to show Amity. And Eda. And King. And you! The human world is—it’s amazing. The rain doesn’t kill you even a little bit!”

It takes sudden effort to keep up the smile. “…I’ve heard.” 

“Anyway, I just came by to say hi. Eda said you were here, and—” She stops, visibly hesitating. Her head lowers. “I know… I know this must be hard. And that we aren’t really friends. But… if you need anyone to talk to… I’m here.” She peeks up her head a little, grinning. “After all, we’re house buddies now!”

“Human,” Hunter says. Her nose wrinkles. He sighs. “Luz.”

“Yeah?” 

There’s so much he could say that for a moment he has no idea where to start. Why did you think this was a good idea. Please stop talking. Why are you so insistent that we could be friends. I didn’t say I was staying here for long. I’m very tired. You’re bizarrely forgiving. My uncle is dead because of you. 

“…Thanks,” he says. “And— I’m sorry.”

Luz blinks at him. Then she grins. “Noooo problem, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!”

Hunter shoves her stupid smiling face away and closes the door on her toes. Luz yelps and swears and kicks at the door, and yells rude things in that other human language of hers. “Byeeeee,” Hunter says, and behind the closed door, Luz makes a muffled noise of rage and shouts, “Would you stop saying that!?”

And it doesn’t make things better but it doesn’t make things any worse, either, and when Hunter turns away he is almost smiling—so maybe it’s okay. 

.

The sun sets. The dusty room has been aired out to its best ability, and Hunter has made a somewhat functional and comfy-looking bed in the corner. A sticky note with the boiling sea + ice = human rain idea has been ceremoniously pinned to the empty wall space. In addition to the sticky notes, Luz has donated his “sad, bad boy room” what looks to be a dying houseplant. Hunter suspects she gave it to him purely because she has despaired of trying to keep it alive herself.  

He puts the plant on the windowsill. The palisman apparently loves it. Maybe he should find red tulips for it to eat. Whatever a red tulip is.

He settles next to the palisman on the windowsill, and strokes its head with his finger. He feels strangled and small and the sunset looks alien to him. Everything has changed. Everything is over. He is a powerless witch with a wild magic staff, and he will never be the Golden Guard again.

His eyes burn. He blinks fast. Far down below, he can hear the Owl Lady and Luz arguing over dinner.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Hunter tells the palisman. The sunset makes all the trees look shadow-like and sharp, outlined in red. It reminds him of his palisman, a little bit. “I don’t even like these people. What do you think? Is it too late to head back and dig myself a grave in the rubble?”

I’m happy I know you, chirps the palisman. It hops from the dying houseplant to the top of his head.  I love you, I love you.

His throat feels tight. “…That still isn’t a real answer.”

I want apple blood for breakfast tomorrow. The palisman nibbles at his hair. It looks tasty.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he closes his eyes. “Okay. If— if you say so.” 

The sun is setting, and the light is warm on his face. The Boiling Isles feels, for once, almost something like peaceful. It probably won’t last.

“We’ll stay.” 

[prettynxsty]

Acridity II

Sub!Namjoon x Domme!Reader

Warnings: Futa/Girlcock, Joon has a pussy, fingering, gratuitous nipple play, size kink (small top/ big bottom), creampie,

Summary: Sometimes you just need a good romp in the comfort of your home.

AN: This is part 2 of Salinity, go read that first for some context. Enjoy the bedroom hair esque pic. :))))

You push yourself back onto your knees, pushing your own shorts down your hips to fish out your cock. It twitched in your hand as you gave it a few strokes, you wanted to to fuck him slow and deep.

He glances down at you from over the bridge of his nose, his eyes were soft. A wordless request to feel you again, your warmth felt so much better than his.

Your breath jumps in your throat, you can feel your cock jump in your loose grip. He just didn’t understand how easily he was just able to do this to you.

Releasing your dick, you plant your hands around his hips and lay back against him. He seizes up for a second, head curling backward with a silent whimper. Your dick was thick enough to press between his folds and spread them open. Nestling between his fat Venusian tongues, you lean forward and press your nose against the base of his neck.

Anise and almond. You’d never regret purchasing this cologne from the roadshop for him. Herbaceous and aromatic, your drag the tip of your nose up the column of his throat. Hypnotized, your fingers come to gently curl around the base of his neck. His sigh is cool against the shell of your ear.

Nutty, toasty, warm. He smelt like the pits of a home, well loved, the kind that remains a fond memory.

It reminds you of the dampened earth squishing under your bare feet as a child. Rain. One that chooses to create and destroy within its prior breath, nourishing green that has yet to flourish.

Your lips seal around the juncture of where his shoulder meets his neck, suckling on it. The taste is so uniquely him. Acridity. The tip of your tongue undulates over the small sliver of skin. It tastes fresh and powdery, salty, yet acerbic.

His flavor bites back at you. His fingers curl into the bottom of your shirt, holding you against him as if you would drift away. You imagine you can taste the plums he loved to eat in the summer. Your teeth graze his skin just as he would to the plump flesh of fruit.

You climb further up his neck, equidistant to the previous mark which began to flush already. It’d ripen completely later.

“Baby,” he is neither begging nor pleading this time. Rather, beckoning.

You dot the rest of his flesh with hickies before you reach his mouth. He consumes you before you do him. His lips wrap around yours, smacking gently against your upper lip. You suck his tongue in between your lips, running your own along beside it. It’s a gentle exchange back and forth.

He gains his foothold, slipping his hands up the back of your shirt. His fingertips leave behind stinging trails that spread their fire over the rest of your body. He could surely feel your cock jumping against his cunt, you could almost feel the confidence swelling in his chest. You were just as trapped to him as he to you.

“Let me fuck you,” your whisper was breathless against his lower lip. His heart skips forward, his softened eyes boring straight into you.

You lean backward and sit back on your haunches. Your eyes never leave his as you clumsily reach for the nightstand. The drawer closes with a thump that you nearly missed as you pop open the cap on the K.Y Jelly.

You squeeze it over the base of your cock, piping a line all the way to the fat pink tip. You grip it with a trembling hand and begin to massage it over your length.

You didn’t neglect the rest of your responsibilities, watching him shift toward you and tilt his hips toward you. Your mouth runs dry as you watch his adonis belt ripple and stretch, blending down toward the pussy nestled between the swell of his inner thighs.

You squeeze a generous dollop on your fingers before carefully tossing it onto the nightstand again. You lean forward, slipping your fingers past his thick folds and smear it around his hole. You pepper soft kisses against his mouth as you press the tips of your fingers around the velvety entrance.

You resist the urge to groan, you couldn’t wait to feel him stretch and open up around you. His head lolls to the side with a mewl that sends blood rushing straight to your dick. His hand comes to rest on your forearm, gripping it.

You work your fingers in, curling them in and out for a short moment. You could hardly wait, pulling your fingers away eventually. You position yourself between his thighs, his legs coming to rest around your thighs easily.

You grip your cock with your left hand, dragging it in between his meaty folds. You waste no time, pressing into him before dropping your hand to rest on the other side of his waist. He raises his arms, wrapping them around your upper back to guide you to lay against him.

You sighed, pressing your nose in between his pecs as you slowly work your way in him.

“Fuck, you’re stretching me, babe.” He breathes into the air.

A sharp breath squeezes through your lips, your hips jerked forward as his cunt greedily swallows in more of you.

It made him feel so sexy when you were like this, the prey holds the predator on a leash. His hips tilt forward, opening him up to take you even deeper. Right there, he shifts his thighs and locks them around your hips, bordering on your waist.

Your growl is muffled between his tits, Namjoon keens beautifully in response. You carefully shift your weight onto your elbows, planting them deeply in the mattress before rearing back.

There it is, that feeling that made his toes curl. Your skin claps against his gently as you plunge in deep. His moans are slurred, drunk from the pleasure.

He doesn’t need to ask for more, you just understand when he starts lifting his hips to receive more of you. Your teeth set tightly in your jaw as you take it, flesh rebounding from his noisily. He whines breathily as thanks.

Your need to consume him only grows, a clumsy hand gripping some of his shirt and pushing it upward. He releases his grip around your shoulders, allowing you to scrunch his shirt up to his collarbone. Then you see it, his pecs bouncing lightly with each thrust.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you hiss as you snap your hips against his with more force. His beautiful lips spread into a smile before parting in a wail that makes you burn.

You tilt your head, allowing your tongue to fall from your lips and dangle over his right nipple. The hardened nub flicks back and forth against the tip of your tongue. You can feel him nearly glaring at you, you spoiled him by playing with them so often.

You never failed to suckle on them, pinch them, twist, and rub them whenever you made out with him. He at first found it strange, until it became something that he needed.

You couldn’t only tease him for so long and engage. He makes a choked noise as you suck it into your mouth and roll your tongue right over the center.

Your eyes squeeze shut, rolling your head back slightly and tugging his nipple with it. Your moan sends tingles across the expanse of his chest, it drove you crazy when he bucked back against you.

“Sto-” he squeals as you roll his nipple between your teeth. You release it with a harsh suckle and smack of your lips, diving back in.

Your hips move of their own accord, fucking him harder and faster. You can see the shadow of the headboard rocking in the corner of your eye. His other nipple calls your attention, bouncing right along with the rest of his chest.

You shift sides, occupying his right nipple with your finger tips. His back arches off of the bed as you squeeze it between your fingers, tugging until he whined.

You could feel the tension building in your stomach, your head was beyond thought. Blips of static twinkle in place of what would be your inner voice.

You flex your tongue, dragging it over his breast flesh like some dirty beast. He was your pretty maiden, preening and singing for you.

“Fuck, I-” your breath stutters as you hammer in and mold your body against his for the final stroke. His pussy responds noisily, his cum smeared over your length some time ago.

His head thumps against the headboard with a mewl, his cum caked up around the base of your cock. Neither of you mind making a mess on the sheets.

You lean in and press gentle kisses in the seam of his pecs and collarbone. You could always clean later, you always loved to bask in the warmth of after. His arms come up loosely, wrapping around your waist and a large hand strokes your upper back.

[angelthebedsheet]

If you’re ok with it, could you do Hawks, Todoroki, Shinsou, Bakugo and Kaminari with a black support engineer s/o with big curly hair and stretched ears? Maybe she wears gauges with their hero theme? Just some cute fluff!

a/n: oooooh bitch okayyyyy!! i like that! hawks my lil bird bitch ✋🏽🥺

your quirk! super brain.

what is it? you have the ability to memorize things easily, piece complex puzzles together, make great strategies. you essentially are a megamind. you are incredibly smart invention-wise. you are skilled in support hero work so you are one of the go to’s for hero modifications, suits and basic designs.

hero name? hakim: the tinker hero

why the name hakim? from what i searched up it has arabic and african significance and it’s one of the 99 names based on the attributes of Allah. the two famous bearers of this name were hakim ajmal khan, the india physician and hakim muhammad saeed, a pakistani medical researcher. if i got any of this wrong please message me so i can fix this! i want to stay as respectful as possible as i love to include names that hold a message!

i might have to split this into two parts bc this gets long!! i just assumed reader is fem presenting bc you can use feminine pronouns and not be a girl like me. also disclaimer i only take 4 characters at a time per request but i dont think at the time of this request i had finalized my requirements in my masterlist so IMMA LET IT SLIDE. sorry this is late as SHIT. lets get it!

——————————————————————————

Hawks

okay we all know he’s a lil shit

and we all know how he be

you are working on your next commission piece in your studio when your window opens

you can only sigh

“what happened kei.”

“now birdie dont get mad now okay”

“what did you do.”

“i may have.... broke my visor and destroyed my jacket?”

how the fuck do you do that.

“what.”

“ahahah...”

boot to the face

when you two were first dating

which was back in hs

you helped him figure out how his hero costume would be along with how they would sit comfortably on his wings

i mean i love the idea of you roasting him while measuring him

“where’s your fuckin DRIP kei.”

“y/n PLEASE. i came here to get a new costume not get slandered”

“well you jus gon have to deal with it sugar, especially when you look like a mess.”

he had definitely bought you so many gauges that have little red feathers hanging from it

or simply his initials hanging from it to the point where you just wear one of his feathers around your neck

marking his territory and making sure you are safe

protective and trendy!

i hc that he has alot of bird like tendencies so you probably have to stop him from stealing the lil shiny things you have

your nuts and bolts allat

“keigo put my bolt down”

“but its so SHINY”

“NO.”

cue keigo’s WHINING

sometimes he just sits on his stool you put for him and play with your ears

like he’ll stare at them and ask you questions

“do they hurt?”

“kei im trying to focus”

“like they’re all stretched how long did they take?”

or he’ll bounce your curls

you’re just polishing a piece of hero gear

here comes kei silently sitting on his stool and gently grabbing a strand of your hair

pulling it down then you hear a quiet

“boing”

i hc that kei has adhd, has lil tic and has to fidget

(can you tell i self project onto majority of them)

(i mean hawks’ quirk must be IMMACULATE for fidgeting 😫👌🏽👌🏽)

(its dead his fault why i have a pretty bird tic)

and one day

“kei baby, here.” you said as you handed him a box. he cocked his head slightly as he looked at it. “what is this, dove?” he asked as he took the box. “well, i made you something to help with your fidgets.” you said as you rubbed the back of your neck. his wings puffed out as he smiled. he opened the box and gasped. you watched as his eyes brightened while he took out the keychain fidget toy. it has multiple sides to it. metal rings connected by two hoops, red, white and beige plastic bangs that were at the ends with two small red feathers at the chains. you watched as he bit his lips and tried not to cause a big reaction. “do you like it, pretty bird?” you asked. he nodded and pulled you into a hug. “thank you so much, baby.” he said into your shoulder. “and you can hook it onto your pants. cute, right?” you said as you gently rubbed his back. “yep, i’m cuddling the fuck outta you. lets go.” he said as he let you go and sweeped you up into his arms. you squealed with a giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck as he ran to the bedroom.

Todoroki Shouto

yall are in hs okay no time skips lmao

todoroki loves EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU

i mean he has so many sneaky pics of you working on your projects

oil on the cheek, gloves, goggles

straight up working in your zone

he will post on his story sometimes like

“look at my s/o”

“they’re working hard”

dry ass cute shit yk?

he carries scrunchies and glass cleaners 24/7

you take your projects on the go so he’ll just take out a scrunchie and neatly pull them curls back into a pineapple

my mans lowkey was struggling at first bc DAMN

CURLS BE FIGHTIN HIM

love the idea of todoroki watching youtube tutorials bc he’s TIRED of getting his ass BEAT by them

he kinda gets a lil grossed out when you take out your gauges and your earlobe kinda just dangles

like earrings in? cool asf

them out? my mans fold like a lawn chair. he looks away or makes a stink face

“are they in?”

“yes they’re in you lil baby. you can try attempted murder but you can’t look at stretched earlobes?”

“shut UP”

he does internally swoon when you put in gauges that match his hair colour

like you love him that much? okay i see

he’s amazed by how you work

sometimes he’ll just stand behind you like a lil sibling in the door way

“mom said it’s my turn on the xbox.”

(not at how me and todoroki are both the youngest siblings)

when you saw his first hero costume you busted out LAUGHING

that day you roasted todoroki to the point where he left

“janitor looking ass. my nigga where you goin? a space adventure? scary ass.”

“😐 are you done.”

“space jam headass, lookin like a g.i joe action figure. terminator lookin ass.”

“alright im leaving”

“no wait come back andjajdjsba”

i hc that todoroki has panic and anxiety attacks and things like that

so you made him a little sumn sumn for his anxiety

“candy, look here for a second?” you called out, making todoroki hum and look up from his notebook. “what happened?” he asked as he cocked his head slightly. “made you something.” you said as you handed him a small box. his eyes light up as he gently took the box. “really? are you sure?” he questioned. you only nodded with a smile as you placed your pencil behind your ear. you watched as he carefully opened the box. he pulled out a tan clicker toy and smiled confused. “what’s this, bub?” he questioned as he placed the box down. “a fidget toy i made for you that can help with your anxiety. it can help ground you when you feel overwhelmed? hopefully? oh! it also has a music box feature.” you said as you pointed at the back of the toy. he silently turned the toy around and you leaned over and pressed a button that played a music box version of a pearl by mitski. you watched as his shoulders loosened up at the sound of his favorite song. he placed the toy down while he tried to hold his smile back. he sighed and smiled widely. “thank you, i love it, bubba.” he said sweetly. “i’m glad you like it.” you whispered. “may i kiss you?” he asked. you simply nodded before he gently cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your lips. you pulled him into a hug.

[lovemybluebully]

Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.