#they keep me as happy as possible so i can work on my shit quietly inside my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moraxsthrone · 1 year ago

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everyone talking about going hard with wrio - tying him up, him tying you up, punishing him, him punishing you, feral!wrio, etc. etc. and while that’s all well and good (i love that shit PLEASE) why aren’t we also talking about soft!wrio???

what about when you come to see him at work and he’s been having a bad day?

you arrive to find him sitting with his elbows on his desk, massaging his temples and he tells the guard that escorted you in not to let anyone in for the next hour. even the guards snicker outside his door, assuming the two of you are getting down to sexy business. to be fair, they're not wrong.

you’ve led wrio to the sofa before pouring him some freshly brewed tea.

“i’ll be fine, love. just need some time to clear my head,” he says, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“let me help, baby,” you say, giving him a soft, loving kiss on his cheek before sliding down onto your knees between his thick, muscular legs.

you massage his thighs, kneading some of the tension away as you work your way up. you look up at Wrio when a quiet groan forms in his throat to find him with his head laid back and forearm draped over his (probably) closed eyes and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. one of your hands ventures underneath his vested shirt to feel the heat of his hard abs and the coarseness of his thick, black happy trail. before long, his shape is apparent through his pants, semi already straining against the gray fabric. he looks down at you with those pretty blue eyes, so soft for you. watching as you unbuckle his belt and free his half-hard cock.

“damn, babe…this isn’t what i had in mind, but i’m not complaining…”

you smile up at him with a brief, cheeky laugh. “let me take care of you, wriothesley. just relax…”

and relax he does as you suck the stress right out of him. slow, long pulls on his engorged cock that’s almost too big to fit more than the tip in your mouth. your hand makes up the difference around his shaft, however, and it’s not long before he’s panting your name.

“fuck, babe…that’s it,” he whispers, his un-gloved fingers carding through your hair, gently petting you, admiring you as you take your time with him.

there’s still the occasional gag and near-constant wet sucking sounds but they’re unhurried, deliberate until his hips start to buck and his cock twitches in your mouth. wrio’s fingers tighten just a little in your hair as he spills himself inside your mouth, biting the back of his fist to keep from moaning too loudly.

once you’ve properly cleaned him up with your tongue, he tucks himself away and pulls you up into his strong arms. you straddle him and just…hug him.

“thank you, love,” he whispers next to your ear before pulling you down with him on the couch to join him for a nap.

or what about when he comes upstairs late at night to find you already asleep in bed?

wrio undresses himself before sliding in behind you, a gentle arm wrapping itself around your waist to pull you closer to him. you stir and he quietly apologizes for waking you up and urges you to go back to sleep, but you need him.

gods, you need him.

so you roll over and kiss him deeply, bidding him welcome as he rolls between your naked thighs. his thick cock reaches its full erection quickly with the way it glides over your slick folds. you remain locked in a long, tender kiss with him, breathing each other's air, warm tongues swirling. your arms wrap around his neck as he cradles your back, a mess of languid hips and quivering thighs when he enters you. you both moan in unison at the pressure, the stretch, the feeling of finally, finally being as close as you can possibly be at the end of a long day apart.

wrio stroking his thumb over your cheek, light as a feather, as you stare into those baby blues, so full of love and adoration for you, only you. your bodies moving together, slow and strong, as you profess your endless love for one another between quiet gasps and clipped moans. cupping wriothesley’s cheeks when he dips his forehead to your collarbone, his pace picking up slightly, but still fucking you with long, deep thrusts. his hot breath against your moist skin when you tell him to cum inside you, when you tell him you need him. moments later, his hips jerk erratically before stilling completely and you feel him throb against your walls, spending his thick, warm cum inside you.

what about when he wakes up in the morning with you?

…holding you fast to him when you try to get up. and when you giggle and make a feeble attempt to struggle - “but wriothesley, i have to get ready for work~” - he holds you there, tighter, right where you belong, safe and warm with your head tucked perfectly against his chest. a small, mischievous smile plays at the corners of his lips but his eyes remain closed. “just a little while longer, love…” he slurs, his voice still heavy with sleep, “let me keep you all to myself just a little while longer…”

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 months ago

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a/n: don’t even ask what this is because i have no explanation 🙈 i’m just out here obsessing over mat and squeaks always. and in a happy coincidence it’s barzy days (13) to the season opener!

word count: 2.3k

tw: pregnancy, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

summary: in your second trimester, you’re constantly worked up and desperate for mat, in any shape or form

Lately, by the time Mat gets home from a game you’re fast asleep, buried under a thick down comforter with pillows wedged all around your body so you won’t roll over onto your back.

It’s an extra precaution, since your doctor informed you that you don’t have to worry about staying off of your back while you sleep until later in your pregnancy. You’re only fifteen weeks, with a tiny little bump to your lower stomach, so you could comfortably sleep on your back with no problem, but you’d decided to try and get used to sleeping on your side as early as possible. As a stomach sleeper, this is the hardest part of pregnancy so far.

It’s easier when Mat’s in bed with you, curled up against his side and using him as a human body pillow.

He always tries to slip into bed quietly after his shower and most of the time, he’s successful.

But tonight you’re not as deeply asleep as usual, overly warm and twitchy under the covers. You’re in and out of sleep, face buried in Mat’s pillow, until you hear him creep into the bedroom and go straight for the shower. He’s already showered at the rink post-game, you know, but something about the soap they keep stocked there makes you nauseous, even into your second trimester. So, second shower with the good smelling home soap for Mat it is.

The bathroom door is only partially closed and you can hear the water turn on, his shuffling around and getting undressed. You shift, thighs pressing together, warm from the inside out.

All you can think about is Mat in the shower, naked and wet, and you feel about as horny as a sixteen-year-old boy.

As if Mat hadn’t licked you to an extremely satisfying orgasm just this morning.

Your hand slides down your stomach, dipping under the hem of your sweats, finding the sensitive bud of your clit. Huffing an impatient breath, you draw a quick, tight circle around it, wet and achy. Everything south of your belly button is heightened with extra blood flow, your cunt throbbing and slick.

“Ugh,” you grunt into the pillow, arousal dripping around your fingers and thighs like a faucet. You don’t want to get out of bed, don’t want to move any more than you have to, but all you can think about is Mat in the shower and your body moves on autopilot. The covers get flung back and you swing your legs out of bed, wiping your wet fingers on the outside of your thigh.

Mat jumps when you sneak into the bathroom, one hand smacking against the tiled wall. “Fuck,” he yelps, blinking water from his eyes. “Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

You shake your head and shrug, “I was, sort of. Like in and out of it, you know.”

You lean against the countertop and watch Mat through the steamed glass. He rubs a soapy hand over his chest and you blink slowly, feeling yourself drip even more. Soap slides down his chest, onto his stomach, further down and you watch its path hungrily.

Mat’s laugh echoes around the bathroom and you startle, shaking yourself slightly and crossing your arms over your chest to try and ground yourself.

“Huh?” You ask stupidly, realizing that he was talking the entire time that you were ogling him.

“I was saying,” he wipes a hand over the glass to clean it, giving you a better look at the shit eating grin on his face and the way his hair is slicked back with shampoo off his forehead, “you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking steak.”

“I can’t help it,” you whine, too horny to be embarrassed. “All my hormones are crazy.”

“Don’t blame the hormones,” Mat shakes his head, pushing the shower door open slightly. “Hop in and I’ll take care of my girl.”

Your entire body flushes, desperate for Mat’s touch, but you wrinkle your nose and shake your head. “I’m all warm and dry,” you counter, exhausted but wired. “I don’t wanna take off my sweats.”

Mat laughs at you again and you pout. “Squeaks, baby, how am I going to help you if you keep your pants on?” He ducks his head under the spray and rinses shampoo from his hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dipping your hand back under the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers brush against the elastic of your panties and you exhale harshly. “I want you to make me come while I’m warm and cozy and not in the shower.”

You know you sound insane and based on the absolute flood between your legs, you need to get in the shower anyway so you don’t wake up all sticky and uncomfortable. The warring desires of comfy and horny are fighting it out in your body and you’re not sure who’ll win.

Mat grunts and you know he has to be tired, it’s late and he’d played his heart out in a grinding overtime win. You should just get in the shower with him and let him fuck you hard and fast the way you need, but you’re feeling bratty and playful, despite the late hour. You lean harder against the marble counter and watch through the steam and glass as Mat’s hand grips his cock. It hadn’t been hard before, but you can see it thickening in his grip.

“This is what we’re gonna do,” he says, drawing your attention back to his face. His hand works lazily over his cock. “Since you worked me up too, you’re going to push your pants down to your knees - stop, I know you’re comfortable,” he interjects over your faint protest, “and I’m going to tell you exactly how you’re going to get yourself off while I take care of business in here.”

He pauses, grins wickedly at you, and continues, “unless you want to hop in with me.”

“I’m keeping my sweatshirt on,” you reply tartly, using your other hand to push the waistband of your sweats to your knees. Your panties follow and your bare cunt is exposed to the steamy bathroom air. You shiver, even though it’s not cold, and press your fingers against the wet skin of your inner thighs.

Mat wipes at the glass again, letting his gaze flicker down to where your fingers are tracing around your folds. He hasn’t told you what to do yet, so you’re behaving. For now.

“Shame,” he grins. “I like looking at your tits when I jack off. And the cute little curve of your belly that proves that you’re mine.”

His hand works over his cock, from base to tip where he runs his palm over the head, squeezing harshly before going back down over his shaft and balls. It’s been a while since you watched Mat jerk himself off, usually ready to lend a helping hand, so to speak, pretty quickly after he starts. Your breath hitches in your chest, watching his hand move and his cock harden. Pride bubbles up too, knowing that you’re the reason he’s getting hard and worked up.

“Mmm,” you hum, “use your imagination.”

Mat closes his eyes and you laugh, breath stuttering in your chest when he lets out an exaggerated, dramatic moan. “Got the best tits I’ve ever seen,” he replies cheekily. “I’d lick your nipples, bite them even though they’re all sensitive now, if you got in here with me.”

Your nipples tighten against your shirt, painful and sore, and you’d definitely like to get Mat’s mouth on them. “Finish your shower and come join me in bed,” you offer, thighs shaking the closer your fingers get to your clit. “We can be cozy, you can fuck me silly, like I want.”

“You came in here to tease me,” Mat counters. “I’m not letting you off that easy. Go ahead, baby, touch yourself. Let me see you drip down your thighs.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter, delving your fingers between your legs and playing with your clit. You’re unbearably achy, sensitive to even the faintest touch, and the press of your fingers against your clit is like an electric shock. You exhale and slump against the counter, letting it hold your weight.

You can hear Mat’s hand roughly jerking his cock, grunting and groaning over the sound of the water. “Can hear you over here,” he rasps, “you’re so wet. Fucking love how wet and horny you are.”

“Nothing works like your cock, Mat,” you whine, two fingers sliding easily into your soaked entrance with a squelch. “Just want you to fill me all the time. I need you.”

“Every day,” he promises, his free hand splayed over the glass, forearm holding his weight. “I’ll give you as many fucking orgasms as you want, every damn day. Just, add another finger. G’head, fuck yourself for me.”

You add the third finger and curl them, trying to hit your g-spot while your thumb circles your clit. It’s only barely enough and you cry, whining for Mat.

“There you go,” he praises you in a strangled voice and you angle your neck to watch him stroke his cock. The head disappears into his fist and reappears, touching the shower door when Mat leans forward and leaving a smudge behind. “Almost there, I can tell. Play with your nipples, baby, pinch them for me.”

You instinctively try to spread your legs wider, but get stuck with the fabric around your knees and grumble, leaning over the counter to try and get your fingers even deeper.

“As soon as you come, baby,” Mat’s voice sounds like he’s grinning, “I’m gonna come and then I’ll take you to bed, fill your cunt with my cock and fuck you to sleep.”

“Yes, please, Mat,” you sigh, dragging your free hand up your stomach until you can twist your nipple, an electric spark coiling in your belly. It doesn’t take much more after that, your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt sloppily, Mat letting the dirty talk fly fast and loose, sending you over the edge of an orgasm, shouting his name and squirting all over your hand and the floor.

“Fuuuck,” Mat draws out the curse, “made such a mess, my girl. Look so goddamn gorgeous pregnant with my baby, gonna lick you clean, want a taste of you.” He trails off, muttering to himself, until he comes a few moments later, a guttural groan drawn from his chest. He makes his own mess, ropes of come all over the shower door and his stomach. You watch, eyes heavy and chest heaving, while Mat finishes, your gaze drawn to his twitching cock and the tendons flexing in his forearm.

He drops his head to rest against the glass, panting, and it’s enough to get you wet again. You start giggling, surprised at your body’s audacity to still be so hot for Mat even while you’re growing a baby. You’ve Googled, wondering if it’s normal to be this damn horny during pregnancy, and it’s honestly a relief to find that a higher sex drive is normal in the second trimester. You’d been halfway convinced that you were a nymphomaniac after your morning sickness had disappeared and you’d needed multiple orgasms a week from Mat, sometimes multiple a day.

“What’s funny?” He lifts his head and grabs the bar of soap to wash off again. His movements are languid now, slower and less deliberate.

You kick your legs out of your sweats and grab a washcloth out from under the sink, cleaning yourself up while you reply, “the fact that I literally am still so fucking horny right now. Morning sickness went away and I turn into a teenage boy.”

The shower turns off and Mat steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Your gaze tracks the droplets of water trailing down his chest and he laughs, watching you. “I don’t have a problem with it,” he reaches for your wrist, tugging you close so he can kiss you properly.

You’re still pantsless and the kissing isn’t helping anything. “Stop that,” you mutter, nudging at his chest with your knuckles. “If you keep that up, I’ll never let you sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep,” he kisses you again, his thumb rubbing over your wrist bone.

“But I do,” you grumble, melting into him. Your body buzzes with energy, reacting to Mat’s touch. He smooths his free hand over your hip, fingertips tapping at your ass cheek. “I need sleep, Mat.”

Without even realizing it, Mat’s maneuvered you back into the bedroom. Your hands land on the towel knotted at his waist and you tug on the fabric. It’s tented slightly in the front and you could so easily have him slip inside of you. “One more,” you say, completely contradictory. You blame it on the hormones, your excuse for everything lately.

But then you yawn, jaw cracking loudly, and Mat smiles at you softly. “Bed,” he orders, wandering away to get you a fresh pair of underwear and pants. “No practice tomorrow, so if you’re still in the mood, we’ll make a lazy morning of it.”

You let Mat manhandle you into bed, pillows tucked behind your back and knees, suddenly exhausted. You settle easily back into the nest of blankets that you’d left behind, watching Mat drop his towel into the hamper and get dressed. “Ass out like that, makes it really hard for me to not want to bite you,” you comment around another yawn.

“Bite me tomorrow,” Mat chuckles and climbs into bed with you, submitting to being your human pillow. You drape your leg over his thigh and sigh happily when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and nestles you against his side.

You relax against him and Mat draws circles on your arm with his fingers, lulling you to sleep. You’re almost passed out until a thought occurs and you say, into the dark room, “can you go out for bagels tomorrow? I would kill for a bacon, egg, and cheese.”

“Anything you want, Squeaks,” Mat replies, amusement lacing his tone. “Now go to sleep.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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beenbaanbuun · 10 months ago

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Ateez with an s/o who's always a little horny right after waking up. That's it. That's the thought.

(This totally doesn't come from the fact that I'm like that and wake up constantly wishing yunho's fingers or mingi's head were between my thighs)

~lyra

OKAY SO THIS?!?!?!? IMMACULATE IDEA!!

(warning for smut and somnophilia but i feel like that’s obvious)

seonghwa

okay so i’m of the opinion that seonghwa will do anything to keep the love of his life happy

if that means letting you grind on his thighs when you wake up first thing in a morning, then so be it!

like i can imagine him waking up to your moans one morning, all bleary eyes and confused while you try your hardest to push yourself to an orgasm

he watches through his lashes for a second while he decides what to do because he’s still tired but he can’t leave his love to suffer!

“just use my thigh, darling,” he mutters eventually, voice still a little scratchy, “i cant sleep with you squirming about like that.”

you’re a little confused, but seonghwa just pulls you closer and slides a thigh between yours

“there you go,” he says as you grind down, “now go crazy, darling.”

hongjoong

hongjoong strikes me as someone who likes to use toys in the bedroom (idk why, he just gives me those vibes)

like he collects them like pokémon cards and just keeps them in one of his drawers for when the opportunity strikes

and it does strike when he wakes up one morning to you moaning and squirming in your sleep

he takes him time picking a toy out before shaking you awake and dangling in front of your tired eyes

“you want this, baby?” he watches as you sleepily nod, “ask for it like a good girl.”

and even though your voice is slurred with sleep and your eyes are already fluttering closed again, you can’t help but quietly beg for what hongjoong is offering

yunho

oh you’re so right about yunho’s fingers - i am a huge fan of them personally and i think he definitely gets off on seeing his partner fall apart on them

so when you have a conversation with him about always being horny when you first wake up, a million ideas flood his brain

“what if i woke you up by making you cum?” he asks as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “y’know, play with you a little to get rid of that tension.”

you’re practically squirming in your seat at the idea, and of course yunho can tell

so the next time you sleep over, he puts it to the test and begins to play with your clit first think when he wakes up

and by the time you even wake up, he already has two fingers stuffed deep inside of you fucking you mercilessly as he pushes you closer to the edge

yeosang

yeosang would be so nonchalant about it but in the best way possible

like it’s kind of hot when you nudge him awake, a whine climbing up your throat as you struggle to make yourself cum with your fingers

he just grunts at you tiredly and pats his lap for you to climb on, which you do in a heartbeat

“you can ride me if you want,” he says with his eyes still closed, “i’d fuck you but i’m too tired right now.”

and you’re kind of too tired as well, but the horniness outweighs it and you power through the ache in your bones as you work to get him hard before sliding down onto his cock

and the moment you’ve finished he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest

“10 more minutes and then we’ll get up.”

san

if you don’t think san is doing everything in his power to make his lover happy then i’m afraid you’re incorrect

so when he finds out about your little morning horniness problem, he’s obviously filled with sympathy and compassion (and horniness…)

“you can wake me up, you know,” he shrugs, trying to seem chill about it, “or just use my body, or some shit. i don’t mind, babe.”

and of course you take him up on his offer; you use any part of his body you can think of

his thigh, his bicep, his abs - it’s all on the table for you, and it’s so good every single time

and when he wakes up to see you already a moaning mess, grinding on the muscles he’s worked so hard on, it’s safe to say you’ll have to prepare yourself for round two… and three

mingi

i’ve said it a million times before but this man has an oral fixation and you know i’m right!!!!

so obviously when you complain about how much you hate waking up horny all the time, it’s like christmas has come early for him

“do you want me to sort that for you?” he perks up, eyes glistening like you’ve just given him the moon, “i can sort that for you…”

and of course you agree because you’re so sick and tired of always having to wank first thing in the morning!!

but what you don’t know is that the alternative mingi is suggesting is you waking up to him mouthing at your core like a starving animal each and every morning

you cant complain when he does the job so well though

he always makes you cum at least three times before pulling away and shoving his dick inside of you to solve his own morning wood problem…

wooyoung

again, i’ve said it a million times before but he’s such an evil little shit!!!!

like i can imagine him waking up pretty early in the morning, only to hear the sweet sound of your moans echoing through the room

he turns to you with an amused grin, watching you way your face screws up as you desperately paw at your clit

“want some help?” you nod desperately, “you’ll have to say sorry for waking me up first. i couldn’t sleep with you being so loud!”

and if you weren’t so desperate you wouldn’t even considered it for a millisecond, but you’re right on the edge and you just need one more thing to push you over the edge so…

“m’sorry, youngie,” you say with a sleepy voice, “please make me cum.”

and how can he say no when you ask so nicely??

jongho

jongho is another little devil who i think takes great pride in teasing you for being so horny

“you want me to fuck you while you’re still asleep?” he cocks an eyebrow at you when you first bring it up, “you really can’t get enough of me, can you honeybun?”

and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though he’s right; you really can’t get enough of him…

the next morning you wake up to jongho’s moans in your ear and a heavy cock spreading you open and fucking into you

“g’morning,” he grunts into your ear, “didn’t think you’d be asleep for so long but i guess you’re a slut even in your dreams.”

the both of you finish pretty soon after you wake up, and the moment you do, jongho goes back to being his usual teddy bear self

literally has you pinned to his chest and his soft cock still inside you for pretty much the rest of the morning

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez asks #ateez drabbles #ateez oneshot

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maxlarens · 4 months ago

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let’s talk about shy and oblivious oscar. like you’ve liked him forever and you keep trying to drop hints to him and he’s just not getting them and like the last time you try and mention something to him about possibly going out somewhere he just is like “oh yeah lando’s been wanting to go there. let’s ask him if he wants to go.” and you get kinda frustrated and just tell him never mind. oscar is like wtf did i do??? so he goes to ask lando if something is up with you and lando’s like “mate how dense can you be she’s liked you for the longest time” and oscar’s brain short circuits at the mere idea of you liking him??!!

maddie babe sorry this took me five years to answer. BUT FUCK ABSOLUTELY! soooooo obsessed with shy/oblivious oscar actually. especially with someone who is like, not so direct, and drops hints rather than outright say anything to him. omfg yes asking him to go somewhere and he's just cockblocking himself😭 it's so real because he just doesn't even factor in that you might be interested in him.

this works so well with my slowburn oscar theory tbh; which is where i think he's the kind of guy that is so chill, so happy to go at other people's pace, that he takes relationships at a total snail's pace. doesn't push too hard for anything even if he wants it, meets you where you're at in such an aggressively relaxed way that he makes you think he's not interested. which i guess is also very oblivious of him. if you're not walking up to him and telling him very blatantly that you're interested in him, then he's not taking the bait.

god but when he realises how obvious you've been trying to be, or that LANDO notices, then he's definitely like oh fuck oh shit ive totally screwed it. and probably realises the depth of his feelings and like how much he really wants you when confronted with the realisation that he might not get you.

which is also his quiet confidence thing? he can be slow because he's confident on some subconscious level that he'll get you eventually?

but also yeah still also totally shocked to find out you've been dropping hints like its a full time job. and shocked to find out you like him. and then once he cant be oblivious and obtuse about the whole thing he's a bit of a mess. the pressure gets to him. he can't be quietly confident or calm and shit when he knows that you know that he's into you. he's blushing and tripping over his words and everything🥺

#did i psychoanalyse him too much here? does this make sense? like the slight contradictions?#oscar piastri x reader #💌asks #🫂maddie #📎concepts

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delreyshit · 4 months ago

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Saving Her

Summary: You basically have a relationship with Ghost, with whom you also work. During a mission you both argue and go their own ways during the day, until the enemy team catches you and your man must save you.

Note: Sorry if there is a bad wording, English is not my first language, I will upload the Spanish version soon. Enjoy it :)

Aquí está la versión en español

The bastard who had abandoned me in the middle of our mission had now come back for me. I would have liked to spit in her face and tell her that I could save myself, but I was tied up and also very terrified. "How is it possible that I left you alone for a couple of minutes and caught you, huh?" "Minutes? It was almost an hour and it was your fault that they left me in this silly chair, you left me without a single weapon to defend myself."I snorted, annoyed with his presence. "Do you want to turn down the volume? If those on the opposite side hear your screams, we'll be fried." He whispered into my ear, as he tried to cut the wires that held me from behind. I turned my head back, trying to see him. His uniform couldn't hide the muscles in his burly arms, which flex every time he moves the knife near my wrists.

"You're an idiot, Simon," I spat quietly. "You are the idiot, for letting them catch you so easily, ruining our mission. And don't say my name again, someone can hear you." His intense gaze ran across my face, trying to frighten me with his firm tone. I snorted indignantly when I was finally freed from that rusty chair. I watched Ghost with his arms folded and put a couple of things in his pockets. "Aren't you happy that I have released you?" he asked. "You only came looking for me because the mission was unsuccessful, I would have preferred that you had left me abandoned... It would have been better if you just hadn't looked alike." "I didn't abandon you, I just wanted to be alone. You weren't helping me with anything I asked of you and the fact that we started arguing wasn't... Besides, you don't even believe all those things you say, I know you're glad I saved your pretty ass."

I look away, unable to fight any further, as he carefully opens the door to the narrow room that had imprisoned me for long minutes. Ghost walked ahead of me through the dark corridors, guiding me. "Baby..." he murmured uneasily. "Don't call me like that. I'm still angry about it-I'm interrupted by his hand covering my mouth. He quickly corners me against a wall, protecting me with his burly body. My head is confused until external footsteps ring in my ears. My hands automatically hold onto Ghost's back and I take refuge in his chest, afraid of getting caught. Once we were sure that there were no Moors on the coast, the two of us took distance. "You're an imbecile," I whispered against his lips. "And you're crazy and grumpy," he answered.

I watched him lift his mask up to his mouth before we got drunk in a confusing and intense kiss, which made me completely forget my reasons for having upset with him. His gloves brushed the delicate skin under my shirt, all the way to my pants belt. Avidly, while his tongue played with mine in a dirty caress, he forcefully pulled my clothes down to my knees, being immediately exposed to him. "Simon, someone can see us..." I whispered with a gasp. "I told you not to say my name here. Now, you'd better keep quiet." Before I could even contradict him, he knelt before me, with his hands he spread my legs and then, opened my swollen lips and shine with excitement. His fingers moved until they squeezed the flesh of my butt and he leaned over my belly gently. "Shit, baby. You have no fucking idea how delicious you are..."

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #fanfic #ghost call of duty #cod fanfic #cod x reader

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wososage · 1 year ago

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One Step at a Time: USWNT x Reader

Summary: Y/N plays in the opening match of the world cup but it isn’t sunshine and fairy tales. Y/N does everything they can to hold their shit together and help the team.

Warnings: sorry this is very very sad because i need to write out my sad emotions and this is a little bit me writing my life into an imagine… italics are Y/N’s internal monologue

Word count: 1234

Y/N POV

Step One: get to the lobby of the hotel before the bus is supposed to leave

Just put one foot in front of the other. Take the elevator, not the stairs. Save your energy for the game you are going to need it. Are my headphones on? Are my sun glasses on? Follow the team out of the hotel. Ignore the fans. Ignore the media. Get on the bus and sit in your seat.

Step Two: Get to the start of the game without crying

Chill playlist only. Focus on good deep breaths. Keep your eyes closed. Imagine today being a better day. Your family is in the stands. They can’t wait to watch you do what you love. They are so proud of all of the hard work it took you to get here. They will go crazy if you score a goal today. Do the same routine you always do. Take the picture frame out of your bag. Remember that you are playing for those who can no longer be here. Take the necklace off and put it on the picture frame. Get dressed. Warm up. How do the muscles feel? How do the joints feel? Is blood sugar okay? Are electrolyte levels okay?

Step Three: Be the player that the team needs you to be

We all line up. The whistle blows.

Time to push forward. I am open. The ball is at my feet. The keeper is off their line. Chip the keeper Y/N. Holy shit. It worked. I just scored. Everyone is running to me.

“That was amazing Y/N!” Alex yells in my ear.

“Y/N you are the best!” Lindsey says joining the swarm of people hugging me.

I look up to the sky with tears in my eyes.

This is for you. It's always for you.

“Come on guys,” I say. “There is a lot of game left to be played.”

Line up for the corner. Have a plan to lose the defender. Never lose sight of the ball. Run towards it. Jump high. Redirect to the back post.

“Fuck yeah!”

“That's two Y/N!”

“Y/N is unstoppable!”

Don’t get cocky. Stay humble. Stay true to yourself.

“Y/N! Push forward.”

I can see what is about to happen. Stay on side Y/N and everything will work out. Run. Get your ass there. Just get a toe on the ball. The keeper can’t stop you. Redirect. Don’t add any power.

“Hat trick! Hat trick! Hat trick!”

“Y/N! You are the love of my life!”

The whistle blows and I just sit on the ground and cry. I should be happy right now, but instead I am so sad.

This is not how the world cup was supposed to go.

Step 4: Put on a happy face until the public can’t see you

“That was an amazing way to start the world cup,” Vlatko says to all of us in the huddle. “I am proud of all of you. Y/N, congrats on the hat trick. Everyone, enjoy this moment. The rest of the world cup starts tomorrow.”

“One more thing before everyone starts to look for their family,” Pinoe says. “Y/N get in the middle. You know how birthdays work on this team.”

Everyone sings happy birthday to me and then we head over to the friends and family section.

Seeing everyone so excited that their family is here makes me happy. It’s great to see everyone in such good moods.

“Y/N where is your family?” Sonnett asks. “I wanna say hi to them!”

“They’re in America,” I tell her quietly, trying to not cry. “They aren’t coming to any of the games.”

“That’s okay,” Sonnett whispers in my ear while giving me a hug. “All of our families will support you and be your family during the tournament.”

“Thanks Sonny”

Step 5: Get through media as quickly as possible

Heif takes me to the mixed zone, where I am presented with the player of the match trophy.

“Y/N,” A reporter says, getting my attention. “After your goals and after the game you seemed emotional. Could you speak on what emotions you are feeling and what has been going through your head throughout the game?”

Do I lie or do I tell the truth?

Lie.

Truth.

Lie.

Truth.

Lie.

Truth. The truth will come out eventually so there is no point in lying now.

“Yeah, there definitely are a lot of emotions when it comes to playing in the world cup. Most of the game I kept telling myself to be that player that my teammates need me to be. Every goal was such a whirlwind. They were all split second decisions that worked out in the team's favor. Before every game, I remind myself of all the people I play this sport for. All of the people who would be proud of me for fighting for my dreams. After the goals, I was thinking who I was scoring for. The ones who would be going crazy if they were able to watch this game. I am sure if you were to ask anyone on the team, they would say that they compartmentalize during games and tournaments. I am no different. But once that final whistle blew, I let myself think about the things I’ve been blocking out during the game. I let myself sit in the emotions I was putting aside in order to be the player the team needs me to be.”

“Y/N, is there anything you would like to say to your family right now?”

It’s okay to cry. Everyone will understand.

“Yes. Unfortunately, my family was not able to make it out to the world cup, so they are back home watching this on TV. Before… Before we left the hotel I got a call from my family. There was a family emergency. So to my family: I am very sorry that I am not able to be there to support you right now. I know what you are going through feels unreal and unimaginable. I love each and everyone of you. Please take time for yourself and make sure you are doing okay. And I hope that watching the world cup brings you a little bit of light in this very dark time. Those goals were for Reagan, Chase, and Cole. I will fight to win this world cup for you and for them. And I will be back in a month to give all of you hugs.”

Step 6: Let the team in. Let the team support you.

I am sobbing by the time I get back to the locker room. Almost everyone is either in the showers or the ice bath. I get to my locker and suddenly I am filled with rage. I punch my locker over and over again until I am pulled away by Aubrey and Naeher. I collapse in their arms and just sob.

Nothing in the world feels okay.

By the time I have calmed down, the entire team is sitting in their lockers silently. Patiently waiting for me to talk to them.

“My brothers died today,” I say, my voice raw. “I found out right before we got on the bus. I am staying for the rest of the world cup. My family will be staying in America. I need to win this for them.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alyssa naeher #aubrey kingsbury #Alex Morgan #Lindsey Horan #emily sonnett

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braden-holtbys · 9 months ago

Text

Back To Me

A/N: Hi it's me, back on my bs again! Here's another fic I've been working on. It's a bit rushed, but please let me know if a part two is wanted and/or if I should make more fics!

Warnings: angst( ?), maybe a bit of depression

Daniel Ricciardo x reader - more is under the cut!

“Y/N, I'm sorry. I can’t keep doing this,” Daniel said abruptly, moving his cup closer and using the straw to swirl the ice. He tried to not make any eye contact with you, he knew those words cut you deep. You sat there shocked, your jaw practically dropped to the ground. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I think we just got caught up in our romantic feelings and we’ve become so busy with each other and our jobs. Maybe it’s just that this is a distraction….”

“Danny, can- can we talk about this? Think it over?.” you asked while trying to not cry, choking on your words. You didn’t want to make a big scene while you two were at your favorite cafe. Those memories? Gone.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N,” he replied quietly, frowning and still avoidant. “I need to get back to practice.” Just like that, he got up and left you alone. You watched as he left the cafe, seemingly with no regret, no looking back.

I can make you mad

I can make you scream

I can make you cry

I can make you leave

I can make you hate me

For everything

But I can't make you come back to me

Ricciardo, Daniel Ricciardo. That was about seven months ago and since then you’ve struggled to make it day to day without that sunshine of yours. You missed his laugh, his smile, those big brown eyes of his, everything… Three and a half years down the drain in a single moment because of what? You being a distraction? You’ve seen posts here and there on your socials speculating that that might’ve been encouraged by his press officer. Lots of comments saying the same thing like ‘Way to get rid of the distraction,’ ‘Y’all did them dirty,’ ‘They were so happy together and he was doing well’ stuff like that.

You still kept in contact with some of the other wives and girlfriends of the other drivers. In fact, you were somewhat close with Alex’s and George’s girlfriends, and occasionally they’d come over to your flat in Barcelona to help cheer you up. You were studying abroad in Spain trying to get your masters in mechanical engineering, focusing on automotive mechanics. It was tough for sure, but you managed. It seemed that every time you watched a race since the break up, he’s been struggling too, you can see it in his demeanor. His teammates and other drivers seemed to give him shit for breaking up with you. Little did you know that it was actually the idea of his press officer. There were days where you’d lay in bed staring at the ceiling wondering where you went wrong. No doubt, the both of you actually missed each other, but unbeknownst to you, he desperately wanted you by his side again. You, on the other hand, actually wondered if he was doing the same thing, staying up and thinking about you.

The girls came over to the flat to get you out of the place, get a breath of fresh air, soak up the beautiful sunshine. They were so worried about you and how you struggled to care for yourself.

“Aw girls, you didn’t have to take me out to the spa! I mean it!,” You exclaimed, you just didn’t want them to worry so much.

“Y/N please don’t worry about it! We want what’s best for you,” Carmen replied, Lily nodded as she agreed.

“Plus, he’s been depressed and struggling as much as you have,” Lily added. “I truly think that this wasn’t his idea, but rather a forced one.”

“Ya think? I mean it could be possible.” You replied quietly. “When’s the next race? I have a break coming up this week.”

“Uhhh-”

“I believe this week actually, here in Barcelona,” Carmen interjected before Lily could reply.

“Oh shit that’s right. Mind if I tag along with the both of you?,” you asked, some hope in your voice. You saw their eyes light up as they squealed in happiness. It was like they were waiting for you to make that move.

Called me all day

But I never pick up

Instead of pulling my weight

Always pushing my luck

You gave me all that I could take

Yeah, I took it all for granted

Head up in the clouds

Yeah, I never understand it

—

“What movie did you wanna watch love?,” Daniel asked as you sat down on the couch and cuddled with him.

“Um I’m good with pretty much anything, just no horror,” you chuckled as you watched him flip through the channels. Nothing really jumped out to either of you.

“Do you just wanna watch an anime movie or something like that?,” he ended up asking.

“Of course,” you whispered with a smile. You could feel his body vibrate as he chuckled.

That memory always stuck with him for whatever reason. Maybe it was because it was a long race week and he didn’t do so hot. It might’ve been that his season with McLaren was so stressful on him, plus the stress of being on Red Bull and Renault that had followed him.

“Hellooooooooooooooo—--,” Lando blurted as he waved a hand in front of Daniel’s face. “Earth to Danielllllllll.” Daniel had snapped out of his daydream.

“What’s up?,” He asked as he looked up at Lando from his seat.

“You good? You’ve been staring off into space and daydreaming a bunch, man. Whatcha thinking about?,” Lando had asked.

“Uhhhhhh,” Daniel started. He didn’t want to admit that he was thinking about you, but… “Just thinking about Y/N.”

“Dude it’s been a while. Have you spoken to her lately or nah?,” he asked as he took a seat next to the Aussie. Daniel shook his head ‘no’ even though he has thought about it several times in the last seven months. “You know, I heard through a couple birdies that she might show up to the Spanish grand prix.”

“Where’d you get that info?,” the Aussie immediately asked, looking at the youngster as if he was speaking another language. Alas, the young one had the widest grin on his face.

“I’m not allowed to say…,” He chuckled. “But, just know that I’m rooting for you both to get back together. Honestly, we all are dude. We can tell that you’ve been off since then.” He felt so nervous at the thought of seeing you again, it almost made him nauseous yet excited. God, he so desperately wanted to see you again and apologize for the pain and the fuck up.

He missed your smile, your voice, the way you carried yourself with confidence, your smarts, everything. He missed the way you looked at him after his races, no matter how he did, you had a sparkle in your eyes only for him.

“Anyways, I’m gonna get some food. Want anything?,” Lando asked as he got up from his spot.

“Nah I’m good. Thanks man,” Daniel replied as he smiled.

He understands that your education comes first, but he wishes that you’d finish already so you could be by his side at the paddock with whatever team he’s on. Daniel knew that when he sees you, you both have to talk and that he won't let you go ever again. He’s struggled to sleep at night, his house empty without the love of his life.

It was a surprise that neither of you blocked each other on anything, but you guessed that the other wasn’t interested in that. Rather it was like you both were interested in getting back into each other’s life.

—-

I remember thinking

I don't need you

But then time passed by

And it's so untrue

Now I'm the rain over your parade

Reason you're over me

Yeah, I always keep making the same mistakes

Maybe I never deserved you anyways

You counted down the days until the Grand Prix came around. Your phone started to ding every so often as you got texts from the girls, but what startled you is that Daniel started to text you again. He’d occasionally send a ‘hey’ or ‘how have you been?’, but what threw you off was when he suddenly asked if he could call. Honestly you’ve just been ignoring his texts because at this point, it’s been eight months since your break up.

He got the point, yet he still persisted like the badger he is. You were alarmed by your phone suddenly ringing. You rolled over in bed to look at it - ‘Danny </3’. Rolling your eyes, you let it go to voicemail.

‘What the hell? Why is he calling me now?’

The phone rang again, but this time you finally picked up.

“Um… hello?,” You asked reluctantly. “I’m surprised you didn’t get rid of my number.” He chuckled, and God, you missed that so much.

“Hello to you too Y/N,” Daniel responded as he cleared his throat. “I’m glad that you picked up.” “What’s up?,” You asked, trying to not sound angry or annoyed.

“I- I know it’s been a while since we last saw each other. I really wanna talk to you because I really fucked up,” he replied, almost seeming like he was going to cry. “I made a really bad mistake.”

“Oh really? You don’t say Danny,” you stated, rolling your eyes at the obvious.

“Look, obviously things didn’t go as we had wanted, and I want to talk to you about it. I’m in town tomorrow and have some free time before practice. Let’s meet up at the cafe near your flat, yeah?,” He asked with some hope in his voice. “Are you free too?”

“Uhhh, yes I am actually.”

“Great I’ll shoot you a text and see ya tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.”

As soon as the call ends, he shoots a text with the time and place. Pits were forming in your stomach, like butterflies wanting to fly away. Tomorrow couldn’t be here any sooner and you wanted to tell him off, but also tell him that you needed him so bad.

I can make you mad

I can make you scream

I can make you cry

I can make you leave

I can make you hate me

For everything

But I can't make you

Come back to me

I can make a world

Out of broken dreams

I can make you say things

You don't mean

I can unmake

All we were made to be

But I can't make you come back to me

The next day rolled around, and you felt so nervous as that pit never left your stomach, but at least you felt cute in your favorite summer dress. It was a pink, knee length dress with strawberry prints and spaghetti straps. You sat in the corner of the cafe, a booth that was quiet and somewhat secluded from the rest of the place. It felt like an eternity waiting for him to come around as you fucked around on your phone. Not even five minutes passed and Daniel finally showed up, sliding into the seat.

“Hey Danny, long time no see,” You said quietly with a small smile. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for breaking up with you. It hurt me then, it hurts me still, and it was a mistake. My- my press officer thought that this relationship was too distracting for me and was hindering my results. I thought it was a fucked up thing to do, and I will always regret this because at the time - I guess it would be best for the both of us,” Danny explained, tears already in your eyes.

“I was holding you back? That’s rich coming from them,” you scoffed at the mere fact that the press officer really thought that. “I’m sorry that they thought about us like that.”

“Don’t be,” he replied. “I realized some time after that they were just creating drama in order for me to get better results.”

“Look Danny,” you started, “I’m sure we could’ve worked this out sooner. Maybe if we just put in a bit more effort and communication, then maybe - I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t understand why I was the breaking point…,” you trailed off, almost crying because you felt defeated. Danny moved over to your side of the booth to comfort you, lifting up your chin to make you look at those dreamy eyes of his. They longed for you, and no one else.

“Y/N,” He started to say, an apologetic tone in his voice. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. Honestly, I was miserable without you and our home feels so empty without you. I want you back so bad. Would you be interested in trying again?” You looked at him in shock, unable to say much at the moment, and it was like the whole cafe went silent. Time felt like it was moving slowly, just for you both.

“Y- Well, I - Yes, I would like to try again, but …,” You were hesitant. “However, it seems that there are things we both need to work on. I’d like for the both of us to work on it together, only if that’s okay with you.” He gave you the widest smile ever, something you haven’t seen in forever, especially something so genuine.

“I’d love that,” Daniel whispered as he put his forehead on yours.

Calling all day

Tryna make things right

Just to fuck it all up

When I see you tonight

Since you told me hit the road

I've been running on empty

If anything I know

It's how to ruin a happy ending

I remember when you still needed me

Don't know how I let it go so easily

Now I'm the cloud to your sunny days

Reason you run away

Don't know how I keep making the same mistakes

Maybe I never deserved you anyway

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #f1 x female reader

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bravetimetravellingaussie · 4 months ago

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And it feels like home

Chapter 2

Summary: Peter Parker makes a friend

Warnings: foul language, mention of injury? Not graphic or anything though

Again, possible spoilers for Spider-man: No Way Home

Days blur together when each day is the same, when there is no one you can share those days with, but unlike his coworker, who'd been stuck in a loop of shock, Peter's brain was finally knocked out of the loop.

For the past couple of months all that had really brought Peter joy was getting into bed and enjoying his few hours of peace, any inner turmoil didn't have a chance to keep him up at night when he was a second away from nodding off at all time. He'd been walking around a zombie for a while now, avoiding everything by filling his time and pushing himself to the limit and beyond, but now he felt something different, something good, even if it was just the itch of curiosity in the back of his head.

It was something.

This strange man with the weird costume and the many, many wounds, which he seemed completely unperturbed by, was a walking question mark, a puzzle to solve. Peter had forgotten how much he loved a good puzzle, how good it felt to scratch that itch of curiosity by getting answers.

When Peter put on his suit that night, he didn't even think about the possibility of throwing some punches, all he could think about was how he was going to find the man in red.

The temporary lack of bone deep emotional anguish and the replacement of exhaustion with excitement should have been enough warning for Peter that something was going to go wrong.

Peter had barely just swung out of his apartment when he ran out of web. A street light broke his fall. It also broke one of his ribs.

All of a sudden he was lying on his back staring at a starless sky and wishing he could stay like that forever. He couldn't hold his breathe forever though, and even though he tried to move as slowly as possible he felt a stab of pain in his chest.

Shit.

Peter gritted his teeth and felt his eyes welling with tears. Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic. Every part of him was tense with burning hot rage. I am motherfucking spider-man, I have a job to do and-

The anger faded and all that was left was pain and tears. I am Peter Parker and I want answers. Peter sobbed quietly as he felt the pain, the pain he'd been feeling a long time now. There are so many answers I will never get but goddammit I am going to get this answer if it fucking kills me.

Peter took a deep breath, a mistake really. He waited a minute for the pain to die down before slowly getting up on his feet. He leaned against the lamppost and held out an arm to hail a taxi.

Once inside Peter slumped in his seat.

"Where to-" The driver glanced back at his new passenger.

"Take me to [insert street name here] or I'll-"

"No need for that! I'm a big fan of your work, spider-man," the taxi driver said with a smile, offering Peter a handshake, an offer Peter accepted. "My name is Dopinder."

"Nice to meet you, Dopinder." Peter felt a surge of something other than pain in his chest. It felt good.

"I'm happy to offer my services as an amateur mercenary to you any time, Mr spider-man, but I have to ask, why are we going to a high school?" Dopinder asked as he drove away from the curb.

"I uh," Peter hesitated for a second before giving up with the scepticism, he was too tired and lonely to refuse a chance to talk to someone. God knows it had been too long since the last time he'd had an honest conversation with someone. "I borrow their lab supplies sometimes. To make my web fluid."

"Ohh, so you don't make it naturally?"

"I mean I don't, I used to know a guy who did though."

"Right."

Dopinder tapped the steering wheel in time with the music playing on the radio.

"So what inspired the spider theme?"

"I got bit by a spider?"

"Oh." Dopinder was quiet for a bit, as if in thought. "My cousin got bitten by a spider once. It was one of the happiest days of my life."

"O-oh, okay."

The rest of the drive was quiet and Peter felt only mildly awkward.

"We are here, that'll be-"

"Yeah, I have no money."

Dopinder nodded.

"Somebody needs to start giving superheroes decent pockets in their super suits," he said with the tired tone of someone who encountered this problem frequently.

"No, I just- I wish I could pay you but I literally don't have any money." A little sheepishly, Peter added, "I was going to threaten you to take me here, and then run off."

Dopinder shifted in his seat to look at Peter. "I've always wanted to know what it feels like to fly."

"I'm a bit injured right now, but next time I see you I'll give you a ride spider-man style, does that sound good?"

"Yes."

"Well then, it was nice meeting you, Dopinder." Peter carefully got out of the car, wincing slightly at the movement.

"Anything else I can help you with? I've always wanted to break into a building under the cover of darkness."

"I'll be alright, thanks." Peter chuckled slightly. "Unless of course you know a guy who wears red leather and seems to be immune to pain."

"Oh. You mean Mr Pool?"

#spiderman #spider man #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #poolverine

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skulls-soul · 2 years ago

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A little bit of a spoilers to the Mario bros movie

I knew that when it came to Mario and Luigi’s family it was either going to be just Mario and Luigi or they had a big family And I’m not gonna lie at first I was a little disappointed that they had a big family but that’s just because I’m a sucker for Angsty back stories

But then I thought of the potential when it came to bowuigi and just imagine Bowser trying to date/marry Luigi and he thinks that Mario is the only person that he needs to get the consent of But then Mario’s just like “so when are you gonna tell The rest of the family”

Bowser is just like “what do you mean rest?”

the Twin uncles asks questions So many questions while constantly giving the stink eye imagine that they wouldn’t be as suspicious as Mario but like a close second

I imagine that grandpa doesn’t give two shits he’s old he knows of the Times are changing and he’s too old to try and understand it so I odd to just leave it be although I imagine that he make a lot of inappropriate jokes and questions because then again what kind of grandparent wouldn’t be nosy

I can totally see him looking at Bowser and he be like “I hope you’re not the one that’s taking it I don’t wanna have to go to your funeral for before mine hehehe”

The aunt is curious as well but would keep a distance from Bowser just because he’s scary and I can’t really blame her (so will their younger cousin)

Mom would be completely baffled and in denial and just out right be like “you think? you deserve my precious little baby boy!!! Over my dead body” and then give Luigi a lecture in Italian and about how this is a terrible idea and you should never trust a man with a criminal record

And I want to do a little surprisingly moment with the dad because I think it would be fun if the dad is just like

“Mario what do you think about this”

“ I mean he seems to make Luigi happy so” *idk noise*

“ he is a king,so he’s financially stable, Plus has power to keep luigi safe and I know the look of love in someone’s eyes and that overgrown turtle has that look so Long as he doesn’t break my boys heart I guess he’s OK in my book”

Although I do like the idea of the dad giving Bowser a hard time so maybe he’s more quietly suspicious but the mother is more verbal with her concerns and disapproval.

an honorable mention

Kamek is super supportive the second Bowser shows interest in Luigi he’ll find out all that’s possible and make sure that Bowser‘s attempts of wooing his interest is more successful

When Bowser introduces Luigi officially two his advisor Luigis over here being like “hello sir it’s a pleasure to meet you”

Kamek: “ The pleasure is all mine, so I was wondering what are your thoughts about his graciousness king Bowser

I imagine that Kamek would unintentionally embarrass Bowser lol his poor advisor just wants to know more about Luigi and see if they are a good match because even though he supports Bowser in whoever he decides to take into a relationship with he still wants to make sure that he’s making the right choice

Kamek: “ By any chance do you have any… Let’s say, hotheaded family members”

luigi: “well yeah good chunk of my family is actually pretty hotheaded makes me a bit of an oddball since it takes a lot to get me mad”

Kamek “ interesting” turns around to look at Bowser :D 👍

Kamek: you know the kings been working on a song for you 😌

Bowser: thaaaaats enough out of you dismissed

#luigi #luigi nintendo #bowuigi #bowser #bowser x luigi #bowigi #bowser and luigi #luigi x bowser #bowser nintendo #king koopa #bowsers a simp #super mario #super mario brothers #mario bros #super mario bros #super Mario bros family

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cowboyemeritus · 5 months ago

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Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Summary: You contend with an unexpected visitor. (+18)

Content Warnings: smut, dub-con if you squint really hard

Read on AO3

Notes: last chapter was all plot, no porn. this is all porn, no plot. duality of man.

feedback is always welcome! :)

You freeze, hand on the doorknob.

There’s got to be a rational explanation for this. Maybe Mary came home early? He’s supposed to be at band practice until this evening, and then meet you at work. There’s always the possibility they had to cancel, but knowing those die-hards, that’s unlikely. Mary literally got hit by a bus one time and still showed up.

You always lock the door. It’s a compulsive behavior. But could you have forgotten this time? What were you thinking about when you left?

Stupid fucking Copia!

You have no choice but to confront whoever’s in the apartment. It’s not like you can call the cops. One look at your battered face and bloody knuckles and they’d book you on the spot.

Would Copia bail you out? Does he need — or want — you that badly?

You feel fairly confident that you can fight off one guy, maybe two if you’re mad enough. Throwing caution to the wind, you quietly open the door just enough to slip inside. You try to listen for any kind of noise, any indication that you’re not alone, but there’s nothing. Could you be imagining things after all?

The front hall is clear. Making as little noise as humanly possible, you tiptoe closer to the kitchen, stopping just shy of the threshold. Again, you hear nothing, but mentally prepare yourself for whatever might be in there.

“I thought I told you to rest today, dolcezza.” Copia’s voice startles you, an electric pulse running down your spine. Peering into the kitchen, you find him leaning against the counter, examining the polaroids pinned to the fridge with tacky magnets Mary has collected over the years. He takes one of them, a photo of the two of you at a party last year, and slides it in your direction. In the picture, Mary is clearly hammered, and you’re staring at the camera looking like you want to die.

“Who is this,” Copia asks, leering. “Your boyfriend?” You’re taken aback not only by the question, but by the accusation within it.

“My foster brother,” you reply. “Fucking gross.” Copia quirks an eyebrow, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

“Oh, so she is feeling disobedient and mouthy? Today cannot get any better!” What is his fucking problem?

“Your dad spank you or something?” The words leave your mouth before you can consider their impact. Copia’s face immediately darkens at the mention of his father. There is something almost murderous in his eyes, but you remain steady in your anger towards him.

“What has gotten into you, signorina? It’s not like you to be such a brat.” Indeed it’s not, but he’s asking for it. He’s been asking for it since he toyed with you last night. Balling your fists, you stalk towards him.

“You can’t just show up here. How did you even get in?” Since the beginning of your arrangement with Copia, you and Mary have had a strict rule about not leaving a spare key anywhere. The only copies in existence are yours, his, and the landlord’s.

“Did you think a cheap, piece-of-shit lock like that could keep me out?” He scoffs. “You’re practically inviting people to break in.” There’s a pause. You’re now face to face. “I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you can react, your back is pressing into the edge of the counter. Copia has you boxed in, pinning you against the linoleum with his body. He grips your chin roughly, trying to force you to look at him. You intentionally avoid his gaze.

“Be careful now, amore,” he growls. “You are already in enough trouble as it is.”

You could kick Copia’s ass. You should kick his ass. But you’re fucking weak, and the feeling of him against you has your blood racing in all the wrong ways. When he presses into you further, you can feel he’s already hard. You make a sad attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, but you’re only using a fraction of your full strength and he knows it, holding you in place.

He grinds his erection into you. “Tell me you don’t want it.” The words are stuck in your mouth, choking you. Your face heats up, ashamed of how easy you are for him. “That is what I thought.” Without another word Copia kisses you harshly. Though you’ve acquiesced somewhat, you’re still mad and not about to let him walk all over you. When his tongue swipes across your lips, you refuse to let him have access, pursing them just a little tighter. He grunts in frustration. You’re not expecting it when he lightly bites down on the split part of your lip. You gasp, mouth opening slightly, and that’s all the opportunity he needs; he’s halfway down your throat before you can blink. One hand comes up to roughly grab your breast, his fingers digging into the flesh. You squirm, not used to him touching you like this.

It’s not long before Copia is yanking down your sports bra so hard you hear threads snap. Your tits spill forth, bouncing with the force of the action. He tweaks one of your nipples, hard, and you can’t stop the moan that rises out of your throat, burning like bile. With one hand fondling your breast, the other migrates behind you, slinking upwards to finally snake into your hair, still soft and fragrant from his lavish treatment the night previous. His grip tightens and he pulls, wrenching your head back. There’s a pop! as your mouths disconnect. Your scalp stings.

This pain is nothing compared to what you experience in the ring, but it feels entirely new coming from him. There’s a part of you that wants to dwell on this, to let it feed your rage until you explode, but you can’t let that happen. It’s better, you reason, to take what has to give you rather than do something you might sorely regret. Besides, it’s hard to be angry with him when he’s so close. There’s something about his touch, even when it hurts, that sucks all the malice out of you.

You get the sinking feeling that might come back to bite you someday.

Your neck bared to him, Copia immediately begins attacking the exposed flesh, sucking and nipping at it while he grinds his crotch into yours. He ruts against you like a wild animal, the zipper of his suit pants catching your clit just right through your shorts. Something about the pain contrasts the pleasure in a way that amplifies it, and soon enough the dampness between your legs is impossible to ignore. Your knees begin to wobble and Copia releases his grip on your hair, that hand coming to rest on your center back in order to support you. The irony of such a gesture is not lost on you.

Once Copia has seemingly had his fill of humping you, his hands settle on your hips. It takes some effort with you resisting, but eventually he’s able to spin you around and bend you over the counter. The cold surface is a shock against your hardened nipples, and you try to prop yourself up on your forearms to get away from it. A hand finds the back of your neck, though, holding you down.

“You are only making this worse for yourself,” he says, squeezing you like he’s trying to scruff a dog. You hiss, lightly kicking at him in retaliation. “Piccola marmocchia!” Copia smacks your ass hard and you jolt, startled by how the sensation travels directly to your core. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and underwear and he tears them both down, his nails raking across your skin. The garments pool at your feet. Copia then drapes himself over you, his hand moving from your ass cheek to your pussy. Two fingers run across your slit, feeling the considerable wetness there, and he snickers.

“You like being a bad girl, don’t you, dolcezza?” You elect to not dignify that with a response. He doesn’t give you time for it anyway, the digits delving inside your tight heat with an embarrassingly loud squelch. You grit your teeth, trying not to moan as he starts brutally fucking you with his fingers. He palms himself with his unoccupied hand, and when he groans you can feel the rumble in his chest against your back. “Papa’s bad girl…”

As much as you hate to admit it, you are.

Suddenly you become aware of a third finger prodding at your entrance. You’ve never taken that many before. There’s resistance as it slides in, the stretch burning delightfully. Finally you can’t hold back any longer and moan pitifully, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Copia continues to pump his fingers in and out, angling them so that he hits the most sensitive spot inside you each time. You’re a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, the slick beginning to drip down your legs.

The feeling of Copia’s thumb tracing the tight ring of your other hole startles you out of your trance. It’s too much. “Don’t,” you growl, using your full strength to rise up off the countertop, craning your neck to glare at him. Copia doesn’t acknowledge your demand, but to your relief he backs off. Still, you remain propped up, carefully monitoring the situation. He rolls his eyes at this, withdrawing his fingers and making a show of spreading them, strings of your slick connecting the digits and snapping as they grow farther apart. He flashes you a shit-eating grin and you have to turn away, humiliated by your own desperation for him.

At long last, you hear the telltale sound of Copia’s belt buckle coming undone. Soon after, the head of his cock, hard and hot, is running through your folds. There’s no time to brace yourself before he bottoms out, fully seating himself inside you with a groan. His hands fly to your hips, pulling you into him. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as he starts moving, fucking into you at a punishing pace. Once he establishes a solid rhythm, one hand snakes around to your front to toy with your clit. Your back arches and you press yourself into him, pounding your fist into the countertop. A string of whispered curses leaves you, and you’re so caught up in the rapid approach of your climax that it takes you a moment to realize Copia is talking to you.

“…Old bastard thinks he can use you against me, that he can take you away if I do not live up to his standards.” Something in your stomach drops with the realization that Nihil knows of your existence. “But — fuck! I will not let that happen.”

For the love of God, never say that to me again.

“You wouldn’t fight for anyone else, would you, dolcezza?” There’s an edge to his voice that tells you it’s not a rhetorical question. It gives you pause. He thrusts hard and deep, punching into your most sensitive spot. You cry out, head dropping. “Answer me.” A part of you knows you shouldn’t say it; you shouldn’t encourage him.

“No,” you pant. “Never.” You hate that it’s the truth. Copia rewards you by drawing his fingers in tighter circles around your clit, and suddenly you’re teetering on the edge of a powerful orgasm. You feel delirious. “Papa, I-“

“Say it again.”

“Never. I’d never-“ You’re cut off by your release. It washes over you like a tidal wave. Copia fucks you through it, your spasming eventually pulling him over the edge as well. He stills with a groan, a rivulet of his spend running down your thigh as he softens inside you. When he finally pulls out, shuffling over to the sink, you silently mourn the loss of his touch. After cleaning himself off he takes a few sheets of paper towel, wets them, and then returns to where you’re still bent over the counter, catching your breath. Without complaint you let him tend to you. Once he’s done you pull up your panties and shorts. Turning to face him, you lean against the counter, crossing your arms.

“Still feeling pissy?” His tone his lighthearted now.

“No,” you answer, unable to meet his gaze. For now, it’s the truth.

“Me neither.” There’s a pause. “Mi dispiace,” he says, reaching out and brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “I was too rough. I shouldn’t have brought that meeting here.” You’re about to brush it off, to dismiss his earlier declaration like it was nothing, but then the front door opens.

“Hey,” Mary calls, the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. “We had to end early today. I thought we could get dinner before-“ There’s a horrible silence as he takes in the scene, a myriad of emotions playing across his bony face.

“Hello,” Copia says with a wave. He seems completely unbothered. Mary nods.

“Hi.” He puts on a strained smile, but there is venom in his eyes, especially when he takes in the damage done to your face. “You must be Copia. I’ve heard so much about you.” He saunters over, extending a hand. “Mary Goore.” Copia shakes it, an almost smug look on his face. If you could spontaneously drop dead, now would be the perfect time.

“Piacere, Mr. Goore. I hope you do not mind my dropping in. I was in the area and could not resist seeing your lovely sister.” The way he says it makes the nature of his visit clear. Mary’s eye twitches just a little bit.

“Not at all. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Yes, a friend.” There’s another tense silence. “I should really be going.” He steps around Mary, walking himself to the door. “I will be in touch, bellissima. Ciao!” The two of you stand there quietly as he leaves, taking a moment to process what just happened.

“So,” Mary says after the sound of Copia’s footsteps finally fades away. “Dinner?”

#my writing #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv

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blitheringmcgonagall · 1 year ago

Text

The Very End

31st July 1980

“He looks just like you, sweetie,” Lily said, beaming up at James with a look of pure joy.

James stared again – at Harry’s tiny hands, at his surprising amount of black hair, at the shape of his forehead, at his tiny, cute lips. He rubbed his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

“He’s far cuter,” he sighed, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, tenderly kissing the top of her head again, like he couldn’t quite believe she was safe.

“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding Harry against her chest, still in a daze.

“I love you both so much, I can’t find enough words…” James said, as though annoyed at himself, and using the front of his T-shirt to wipe his eyes.

“You don’t need to, James,” Lily said.

It didn’t matter that she was more drained than she had ever felt in her life, that she felt worse than she did coming back from Order missions that went awry. Harry was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, and he was their baby. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel such overwhelming love for someone she had just met.

September 1981

“Prongs? Prongs! Pick up your mirror! It’s me. Fuck, Merlin, fuck! I can't... I don't… fuck!"

“Merlin, Pads, calm down! Are you alright? You look like shit. What happened?”

“I think Remus is the spy... fuck! Remus is the spy, I know he is!”

“Don’t be daft.”

“This isn’t a joke, Prongs!”

“Are you out of your mind, Sirius?”

“Don’t get angry, Prongs, I swear it’s the truth.”

“Don’t you dare accuse Moony of-“

“The only people who knew about the Prewetts’ mission were-“

“Fuck off, I’m not listening to your bullshit! Get some sleep, you look exhausted, old chap.”

“I swear to you-“

“And eat something, damn it! And apologise to Moony!”

October 1981

“Pettigrew, you are aware of the concept of a sell-by date?”

“My Lord?”

“Shall I spell it out for my Gryffindor spy? If fresh fruit isn’t consumed by a certain time, it rots and is thrown away.”

“M-my Lord?”

“Find me the Potters, or else!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Prongs! Thank Merlin you picked up! I’m not risking using the mirrors again after today, they have spies everywhere, I feel like someone is watching us right now. I need to be quick!”

“Padfoot, I’m worried about you, you don't sound-“

“Listen to me! I’ve done more research on the Fidelius Charm. If I die, the protection dies with me. We need a back-up plan! They’ll come for me anyway, they’ll presume it’s me, and when they do-”

“Fucking bloody fucking -“

“Shut up and listen! And when they do, they won’t realise I wasn’t the Secret Keeper. You’ll still be safe, a double layer of protection. We need to swap. We need to make Peter the Secret Keeper!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Sirius, we need to talk,” Remus said.

Sirius remained seated, his haunted eyes looking up at him devoid of happiness.

“Yes, we do,” he answered eventually, reluctantly.

“Sirius, I can’t keep doing this, sharing a flat with you knowing that you believe me to be a traitor, that I’m working for Voldemort,” Remus’ voice shook.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said after a long pause.

“I can’t live like this,” Remus said.

There were tears in his eyes and Sirius couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the part of him that longed to hold Remus tight and believe everything he said.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said.

“I… please, Sirius, you must know I would never,” Remus’ voice sounded like he was panicking.

He couldn’t keep doing this, throwing more and more complicated wards around the flat and then lying in bed wondering would Remus let Bellatrix in, or would he be found one day, murdered by his ex-lover in his sleep. It was slowly driving him insane.

“You’re right, we can’t live like this any longer,” Sirius said quietly, digging his nails into his hands to stop him falling apart.

“Sirius, please,” Remus said. “I can explain, I’m not supposed to, but I’ll tell you everything…”

Not so long ago he would have fallen for whatever falsehoods Remus told him, anything to persuade himself that Remus was on their side.

“Don’t bother!” he said, standing up, afraid to even let Remus start to speak, in case he fell for his elaborate stories.

Hadn’t they marvelled for years at how Remus always managed to get away with pranks, the only one never to get caught?

“I don’t want to hear your lies!” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice hard.

“Sirius, you’re not yourself,” Remus whispered.

His halting voice sounding kind, how could it sound so kind, despite Sirius’ words?

“Don’t!” Sirius couldn’t keep the panic out of his own tone. “Don’t try to manipulate me. Get out!”

Remus seemed stunned now. As though he genuinely hadn’t expected this. How?

Remus nodded dumbly and started walking slowly towards his room. Where was Remus going to go? He couldn’t afford to rent anywhere, would the bastard Death – Eaters give him a place to stay, a proper place, or shove him in some hovel and –

“Wait! I’m leaving,” he called out after Remus.

Remus turned around slowly, as though composing himself.

“Pardon?” he whispered.

“I’m going, I can’t stand this place since Prongs left, since Wormy left, it’s not home, I’ll find somewhere else,” he said, throwing on his leather jacket.

“Pardon? Pad- Sirius, I can’t stay here by myself, you know I can’t afford to pay for this,” Remus said, looking at him in utter confusion.

“I don’t want your money, Merlin, fuck!” Sirius said heatedly. “I just don’t want… just stay here… so Moody can keep an eye on you!”

“What will you…?” Remus still looked lost.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to me, Remus,” Sirius said, striding towards James and Lily’s old room and throwing a few of his clothes haphazardly into his black backpack.

“Sirius! Where will you go?” Remus said, and he could see the concerned expression, the worried frown.

He had to get out or he would cave.

“It doesn’t concern you any longer, Lupin,” he said, his throat closing as he tried to speak.

He watched Remus swallow.

“I won’t stop fighting Voldemort or his men, you can tell them that,” he said. “My own miserable life may be falling apart, but I never deserved any better, and that doesn’t matter, not in the greater scheme of things. The show must go on.”

“Seren1,” Remus took one step forward, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“Fuck off, Lupin, leave me alone!” Sirius gasped, frightened at his own weakness, his lack of willpower.

31st October 1981

“Marvellous news, Wormtail,” Voldemort says, griping Peter’s shoulder and causing the small man to nearly faint with shock. “I haven’t felt this elated since I can’t remember when!”

Voldemort looks positively radiant, and Peter…

Keep reading

#it’s that time of year #marauders #the very end #Halloween 1981 #multiple pov #jily #wolfstar #Lily Evans #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Voldemort #Severus Snape #Regulus Black #ok but this is the stupid angsty AU #not the actual real happy ending

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tcwmatchmakingau · 1 year ago

Text

One Call Away - Pt. 1

Summary: Thorn wants Fox to find love, and he’s counting on Daria to make it happen. An unstoppable force is about to meet an immovable object.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Daria Trace (OC)

Rating: G (later chapters will get spicy 👀)

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2886

Written to: The Archer by Taylor Swift

Massive shoutout to @deejadabbles not only for taking the first/last look but also encouraging me so much. Wouldn’t have made it without her 🥰

Matchmaking for the clones was nothing like matchmaking for the smarmy elites of Coruscant. The most noticeable difference was the way they showed their gratitude after a successful match. Daria had received expensive bottles of whiskey, opera tickets and even furs from clients. The gifts were accompanied by generic messages clearly written by their aides, and while Daria wouldn’t say no to good whiskey or a fun night at the theatre, the gifts were perfunctory in nature.

The clones, however, showed their appreciation with their hearts. Daria had received flowers clearly stolen from someone’s greenhouse that perfectly matched her lavender hair, gift cards for iced coffee, all manner of fidgets to keep her occupied, and her favorite, new photos of them with their new partners.

Commander Thorn in particular was immensely grateful for his new girlfriend, but when he’d come by bearing a gift he’d also had a request.

“I’m always happy to see you Thorn, but I’m curious as to why you have a knife in my office,” Daria said, eyeing the blade Thorn was twirling around.

“You like to keep your hands busy, right? So you can learn to spin this, and eventually how to throw it,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “Your hands will never be bored again.”

“A bold claim,” she said, following the knife’s movements. There was something alluring about such a dangerous plaything in motion, and she found her fingers twitching in anticipation. “Ok, I’ll try it.”

“That’s my girl!” He brought the knife to an abrupt stop offering it to her handle first.

Daria took the knife and began slowly moving it through her fingers. Thorn watched her work out the best way, as her hand was much smaller than his, and bare. After one minute, the knife was flipping through her fingers quickly and smoothly.

“Kriff, this is really fun,” she confessed quietly. She couldn’t play with it around other people, unless she was hoping to intimidate them, but when she was alone it would definitely be in heavy rotation amongst her other toys. “Thank you, Thorn.”

“You’re welcome, and now for the part where I beg for assistance.”

Daria stopped the knife, placing it on her desk with a decisive click.

“She does not wish to receive heart-shaped jewelry, so go back to the drawing board on that one,” Daria said after a moment of scrutiny.

“Wha-, how did you-?” Thorn stammered. Daria’s uncanny ability to snatch up threads of thought still left him speechless every time. But he was a man on a mission, and recovered quickly. “Consider the jewelry scrapped. I need to bring someone to you. He needs your help.”

Daria’s dark brown eyes lit up instantly. A smile played around her full lips, as she grabbed her datapad.

“You’ve got my attention,” she said with a raised brow.

“Excellent. It’s my ori’vod, Fox,” Thorn said, his face growing serious.

“Marshal Commander ‘Fall in line or fuck off’ Fox?” Daria asked.

Thorn nodded, “That’s the one. He practically lives in his office still, and he needs someone to get him out. Someone that makes him want to take his days off. Someone who he can’t intimidate. Who won’t take his shit.”

“You want me to find someone who’s not intimidated by the most intimidating authority figure on the planet? Possibly in the quadrant?”

“You’re Daria Trace. You found someone that made Wolffe smile. Not a ‘last thing you see before you die’ smile, but an ‘I’m so in love’ smile,” Thorn said, his bright eyes soft and hopeful.

“While everything you just said is true,” Daria conceded. “Commander Wolffe wanted my help. I feel like Commander Fox will toss me in a holding cell, if I so much as suggest he needs my assistance finding a date.”

“But he does,” Thorn insisted. “Just meet him. If he’s hopeless, he’s hopeless. If he’s not, promise me you’ll find someone for him.”

Daria adored the clones, but the way they wielded those big brown eyes was brutal. It was nearly impossible to deny them anything in one’s power.

“Bring him in,” she said finally, caving to Thorn’s masterful tooka eyes.

“Wizard! I knew you’d be up for it,” He cheered. “This means the world to me, Daria. He deserves to live his life.”

“You all do,” she assured him. “I promise I’ll do all I can. Now put on your helmet and get out of my office.”

Thorn shot her a winning smile, and left with a pep in his step. The door had barely closed behind him before Daria was researching Fox on the holonet while she twirled her new vibroblade.

***

Fox never thought he would miss the rules that led all of his vode to keep their relationships under wraps, but then Right to Love set up shop. He now had a battalion of love struck shock troopers, who couldn’t stop going on and on about their new partners, and their matchmakers.

Everywhere he went it was:

“Tarsi changed my life.”

“I owe Yen everything.”

“Daria is a miracle worker.”

Daria Fucking Trace. She was Thorn’s favorite, and he’d been bugging Fox to come and meet her ever since his first date with his now girlfriend. Every three to five business days, he’d be back at it again. Fox loved seeing his brothers happy, and thriving. Especially Thorn, even though he was testing Fox’s patience.

Fox had made the mistake of saying Thorn’s lunch looked tasty, and he’d eagerly explained his girlfriend made it for him, and Fox could have homemade lunches with love notes too, if he would just meet Daria.

“Look, Fox, I know you’re very attached to your nocturnal, work is my life persona, but we’re free men now,” Thorn said before biting into his lunch, humming with joy at the taste. “We deserve to be happy. Especially you, vod.”

“Free or not, we still have a job to do. One of us has to stay focused, so the rest can go off with pretty nat borns,” Fox countered, sipping on an iced caf.

“You should be out with pretty nat borns too. Why are you punishing yourself?”

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m just too busy for a relationship. Someone has to keep this place in order. As Marshal Commander,” Fox began.

“As Marshal Commander,” Thorn mocked with an exaggerated voice. “Just go with me to meet her. If it doesn’t work, I’ll kriff off. But if she can find you a nice young woman or man to get the stick out of your ass…”

“Will you leave me the kriff alone if I say yes?” Fox demanded.

“Yes! For a time.”

“And I won’t have to hear about Daria Trace for the next 30 rotations minimum?”

“Sure thing…but you’ll go?” Thorn looked so excited, even Fox felt himself melting a little. His soft spot for Thorn would never harden it seemed.

“Fine. Set it up.”

“YES!” Thorn cheered before taking a victorious bite of his lunch, grinning as he chewed.

***

Daria waltzed to the lobby promptly at 1259 hours, and found Blizzard obsessively straightening his desk.

“What are you doing, Blizz?” She asked with barely concealed amusement.

“The Commander Fox is coming here. I just want everything to be perfect.” He leaned closer and offered in a conspiratorial whisper, “He’s so kriffing cool. Total badass. I’m equally terrified and in awe.”

“Is that so?” Daria asked with a grin.

Blizzard nodded, and opened his mouth to say more, but at 1300 hours on the dot the door was opening to admit Commander Thorn with Commander Fox in tow.

Thorn always brought wonderful energy into any space, and Daria found his presence comforting if a bit wild.

Fox’s energy was an entirely different story. Contained, but utterly commanding with the fiercest protective intent. She couldn’t focus on anything else no matter how she tried, but the part that surprised her was the blissful feeling of being utterly secure. Safe. Relaxed.

Her constant desire to fidget was quelled. Her fingers rested in her pockets. Her weight held in place rather than shifting. Her heart was steady, calm.

Is this what other people feel like all of the time? Daria thought, offering a dazzling smile to the pair of commanders.

Thorn, never being one for ceremony, scooped Daria up into a bear hug, squishing her against his armored chest until she wheezed in protest.

“I’m happy to see you too,” she coughed out, as he placed her back on her feet.

“I forget how tiny and soft you are,” Thorn said as though he was amused.

“Scientists and therapists under 5’7” aren’t known for breeding kids of the blaster-toting, knife-gifting variety,” Daria said, lifting one expertly arched brow.

“It’s ok, Daria, we can’t all be perfect,” Thorn said, pulling his helmet off, and shaking his curls free. “This is Commander Fox. Fox, this is Daria Trace. The miracle matchmaker.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling people about me?” Daria asked, her face warming up instantly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sure my exploits were greatly exaggerated. Especially coming from my dear little brother,” Fox said, his tone bored, and drier than Tatooine.

Oh this will be fun. Daria thought.

“Well, I’ll let you do your thing, and find Fox a wife or a husband. He’s not picky,” Thorn said with a smirk. “He can’t be with that face.”

The modulator did nothing to hide the sigh of sheer exhaustion from Fox.

“You have the same…clone humor. I should have expected nothing less from you,” Daria said with a soft laugh.

“Don’t indulge him,” Fox said tilting his head at her disapprovingly.

“Sorry. Follow me,” Daria said, with a laugh.

Fox followed the matchmaker down the hall. Everything about her said she’d never followed a rule in her life. From her mismatched earrings to the way she walked like there was music playing only she could hear. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes, the way her rich voice wrapped around the word Commander like the concept of authority amused her. It was completely unsurprising that Thorn was fond of her.

Reaching her office, Fox scanned the room quickly. A wall devoted to her successful matches no doubt, as he saw several of his brothers’ faces, including Thorn and Wolffe. There were a number of small toys scattered across Daria’s desk. Fox counted 10. Some brightly colored, some durasteel, and before she could stash it in a drawer…

“Is that a vibroblade?” he asked, folding his arms, as he took a seat at her desk.

“Gift from Thorn,” she said, closing the drawer where she kept the weapon turned fidget toy.

“Don’t cut yourself with it,” Fox said. “It’ll be a mountain of paperwork when you have to explain to a doctor how a matchmaker got stabbed with a vibroblade.”

“Don’t lose sleep over it, Commander,” Daria said, whipping the knife out of the drawer and spinning it quickly through her fingers while keeping her eyes on his visor.

“How long have you been practicing that?”

“Every free moment for 3 rotations,” she confessed.

Fox shook his head. That tracked.

“You didn’t come all the way here to discuss my knife skills. You need a date.”

“I’m only doing this to get Thorn off of my ass,” Fox said, folding his arms, and sitting back in the chair across from Daria.

“Ah so you’d like to hang out in my office, kill an hour, and then go back and pretend I’m a fake?” Daria asked, with a raised brow.

“Something like that.”

Daria laughed, and Fox noted the sound was pleasant, infectious. “Nope. My professional reputation is as sparkling as your service record, Commander.”

“Please. This is guess work at best,” He argued.

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“How?” He asked.

“Talk to me.”

“That’s what I’m doing now.”

Daria released a sigh, and fixed him with a look. “I mean about something real like why Thorn is so invested in your love life.”

“Because he’s a nosy little brother. As an only child, you wouldn’t know about that,” He said, relaxing his arms, as he made himself comfortable. He was disappointed when his revelation was met with a satisfied little grin instead of surprise.

“I hope you found something more interesting than that in my background check,” She said, placing her elbows on the desk, and resting her chin on her crossed fingers.

“Perhaps. I’d never show all of my cards right away, Trace,” He said with a light shrug. “And neither would you.”

You wanna play hardball, let’s play. She thought.

“Ok, you think I'm a fraud; I think you’re afraid.”

The lightest shift in energy in the room told Daria she’d struck a nerve.

“What makes you think that?” He asked, keeping his voice professional and even.

“A very long list of things that I couldn’t get through with 2 full rotations devoted to you, so let’s split my lunch, Thorn’ll think we did the whole thing, and you can go back to pretending you’re happy.” Reaching into her bottom desk drawer, Daria pulled out her lunch, and set about portioning out half for Fox.

“Here,” She said, passing him half of her pasta, and half of a large pastry.

He’d been on the verge of declining and walking out, but he was absolutely starving, and it looked so delicious. Especially the pastry. His sweet tooth wouldn’t let him say no. He accepted the food, and watched as Daria got comfortable in her chair, one leg tucked beneath her, as she started eating.

There was a light hiss, as Fox unsealed and removed his helmet. He was acutely aware of the matchmaker’s gaze, as she took in his features. He could hear her mentally noting the differences between him and his brothers. The scar on his nose, his curls held back by a red headband, the dark circles under his eyes.

He shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, and resisted humming in pleasure. Of course it’s delicious. Perfect. He thought, annoyed.

“Good?” She asked, swallowing her current bite, and looking hopeful.

“Yeah,” He confessed. “I don’t really make time to cook.”

“I’d be more surprised if you did.”

They continued to eat in a surprisingly companionable silence until Fox bit into the pastry. Fuck, ok. He thought.

“I’m not pretending I’m happy,” he blurted out before taking another bite of the fluffy treat.

“I didn’t peg you for a liar, Commander.”

“I’m not lying,” He shot back, brow furrowed.

“You were bred for war, told you’d see the stars, and got stuck in this corrupt skughole,” Daria said, twirling noodles onto her fork. “Your life is your own now, but you insist on clinging to what you know because it’s safe, simple, comforting.”

“You don’t have a sense of duty, clearly,” Fox said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, I do. I just also believe that my life is mine, and feeling fulfilled is important. That can look different for different people,” she replied. “Do you feel fulfilled?”

He stared down at his food for a moment. “You’re irritating, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard it a few times.”

After another long moment, Fox confessed, “Maybe coming home to someone wouldn’t be terrible, but they’d have to understand the job comes first. My hours aren’t normal, and I don’t dance.”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Daria said, scooping up her datapad and making some notes while she munched on half of the pastry. “Do you like animals?”

“No.”

“This is going to take forever, if you keep lying to me,” she said without missing a beat as she marked yes.

“How do you do that? It’s exhausting,” Fox snapped, shoving the last bite of pastry into his mouth.

“It’s always been like that,” Daria looked up then, and fixed him in her gaze. “You have a sweet tooth. It’s bad.”

“So find me a baker.”

“It’s not that easy.”

After another hour of getting raked over the coals by the matchmaker, Daria escorted Fox back to the lobby.

“I’ll call you,” she said with a mysterious little smile. “Bye, Thorn.”

“Bye, Daria. Thank you,” Thorn called as she made her way back down the hallway.

Fox watched her go before slipping out of the front door and taking a deep breath once it had closed behind him.

“She’s amazing, right?” Thorn asked, joining him.

Fox pulled on his helmet. “She’s as obnoxious as you without the shared DNA to make it tolerable.”

“Whatever, you love me,” Thorn said, as he donned his own helmet. “Let’s go get food. I’m starving.”

“I already ate. Go take your girlfriend to a food stand, and I’ll see you in a little while,” Fox ordered.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Thorn replied, taking off towards the train.

Alone with his thoughts, Fox wandered back towards the barracks.

Daria Fucking Trace was an absolute menace. There was no doubt about it.

***

No less than 15 minutes after Fox’s departure, Daria was twirling her blade, and flipping through profiles. No one currently in the system would suit the salty Commander, but she was determined to find someone who could make that man smile. He might have been hard on the outside, but those soft insides deserved someone who would cherish him.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #Coruscant Guard #Original Clone Characters #commander fox x oc #tcw commander fox #tcw commander thorn #oc: daria trace #oc: blizzard #star wars oc #seven writes

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year ago

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I definitely want to back up that anon who thinks jimin is still in the kitchen! In truth I think all the boys are and will be for a long time. I see chapter two as the introduction of their solo careers meaning "hey we are gonna be bts but also be ourselves sometimes too" I think every solo moment we've seen is the beginning which I'm for one super excited about. Imagine a wave of brilliant solo work one year and then phenomenal group work the next. Chapter two is barely a year in and it's already a visual and musical feast. I think jimin loves quietly preparing so he can wow us when he feels the time is right and while I too get tense with the constant radio silence I know it's cause he'll blow my mind the second he wants too. I hope people who feel as if Jimin didn't get a chance to show his true might feel comforted in that he will never ever stop wanting to gag tf out of us. And I think the sentiment holds the same for bts.

***

Exactly this. Up until a few months ago I thought this was well understood, seeing as how BTS has operated till now, but clearly I was mistaken.

For posterity’s sake, to beat this dead horse one final time:

Would it be nice for each member’s release to not have any of the issues they’ve had? Of course. But it’s possible to inform the company of said issues, address what we can for issues due to various platform errors not due to the company, while not losing sight of the fact this is only 2023. We’re still only in 2023. As in, we’re literally just one year into Chapter 2, none of the guys are older than 30, and they keep saying they��re in this for the long haul. And this is the same group that has shown over a decade that their plans are most often and best executed in multi-year stints.

It’s bizarre to think a member’s solo career is over or even damaged at all in any real way because of one or more problems that happened during their first solo release. It betrays such a myopic, winner-take-all mentality that you have to be in a very specific headspace to fully buy into.

Jimin is clearly happy and working. He’s not blind and is seeing what is working for other members and what isn’t. They’re all checking out each other’s solo endeavours from time to time, cheering each other on and I’d say making notes on what they too could try, what works and what doesn’t.

If there’s one thing that’s become clear to me over the years, and even more so in Chapter 2, it’s that BTS is a team. A real team. I’ve seen a lot of k-pop groups over the years and there is no group today, present or past, that would reach the heights BTS has if any of the members sought to harm or sabotage or lord shit over the rest, with or without help from the company. None of the BTS members would put up with that shit. Their egos are too big, they’re so obviously their own people, very ambitious and so aware of it that I really wonder if people actually listen to these men when they talk. They know exactly what they’re worth, and they trust that all the other members know it too. If BigHit showed any real favouritism, BTS is the last group to allow that if it’s not something they themselves have already agreed to.

They all know what they’re doing. And if they don’t, then they’re the only people with the tools to figure it out. All the angst and anguish over this or that happening in fan spaces, has no real effect on these men sitting somewhere in Seoul planning out everything they’d like to do as solo artists and as part of BTS.

That’s my takeaway after watching them for as long as I have. I could be wrong, but I’ve not seen anything to suggest that yet. I’m not sure how long you’ve been in the fandom Anon, or what you think about other issues, but it’s nice to see you and the other Anon share this perspective. It’s a view that’s widely accepted in the fan spaces I’m in outside of Tumblr, but one that is sorely lacking in this space right now.

For no reason at all, one Jimin that I hope one day shows up in Chapter 2, 3, or 4:

Sidebar - A friend (who isn’t religious) was asking another friend recently about religion, because she’s now desperate enough to seek divine intervention for Jimin to find blonde hair dye, and to love it again.

We all know his best hair colour is black, but it’s just as true that a solid case has been made for him being a natural blonde.

Okay, that’s it today from my gallery.

That colleague i mentioned the other day, the one that recently got into BTS and now biases Jimin, we’re meeting up this weekend with my other friend, the musician that watched the Grammys with me last year and fell in love with Jimin. That’s an example of two people still finding out about Jimin, falling in love with his music and him as a person, and starting to support him. None of the noise online actually has any real bearing on the impact of real life people still learning about Jimin through his solo music and through BTS, and becoming his fans maybe for life.

If anyone finds themselves feeling overwhelmed in fandom, please zoom out. Please take time away and get some perspective. Everything I’ve said is obvious, none of it is rocket science or gleaned from any special insight. The noise online can suck you in, to prevent that, please detach, go back to their recent and old interviews to hear what they each feel about Chapter 2 and their solo work, listen to all of what Jimin expressed during his promotions, the good and bad. You’d be left with fewer anxieties. At least, that’s the case for me.

Thanks for this, Anon.

#BTS #bts chapter 2 #jimin #park jimin #BTS fandom #fandom behaviour

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rfxiii · 1 year ago

Text

The aftermath of Michael meeting Mrs. Philips:

(TW: self harm)

(Word Count: 1065)

Michael and Trevor have a discussion after the disastrous events that occurred at the diner earlier in the day after Michael’s first encounter with the infamous Mrs. Philips…

So,-.. Do you wanna talk about-“

“No..”

Michael sighs softly to himself, setting his attention on his beer. He and Trevor sit on the hood of his car, parked out by the small airfield to watch the planes go by. Normally this is one of Trevor’s favorite places- besides the bar; but today he sits in silence, not even bothering to point out the different models of aircraft that are taking off, like he normally does.

Michael sips his beer in silence, wracking his brain on what he could even possibly say. There were no words for this, no apologies he can make, and no sentence he can formulate to make this better. So, he settles on fixing something easier.

“Your hand has stopped bleeding a little.. I think I have a first aid kit in the trunk. We should wrap it up, at least.”

“M’fine, Mikey..”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, for my sake, I’m gonna get some bandages. Can’t have ya bleeding all over the seats; Mandy would kill me.” Michael teases, giving Trevor’s shoulder a playful bump before sliding off the hood and unlocking the trunk.

When Michael returns, only seconds later, Trevor has already drunk through both their beers and is opening another. Normally, Michael would comment on the quick drinking; but today he has the good grace to keep his mouth shut about it.

“Ok, lemme see.” Michael orders, nodding to Trevor’s hand but giving him the option to offer up the injured appendage.

Trevor holds out his hand, albeit hesitantly- but he trusts Michael more than anything, he knows he wouldn’t hurt him. The damage isn’t too grievous, and luckily it had only damaged skin without causing anything like permanent nerve damage. But the pain his mother had caused was far worse than any little flesh wound.

Michael works quietly; he knows Trevor could do this himself, but it feels the least he can do to help. He dabs away blood, applies some antibiotic, and wraps gauze around his hand until he’s deemed it good enough not to bleed through for a while.

“Thanks, Mikey..” Trevor mumbles, reaching for yet another beer as he smooths his other hand over the gauze.

“T,-.. Listen, man-.. I know you don’t wanna hear it, so I’m gonna make this quick, but-.. I’m..sorry about today. I'm sorry about laughing at you, and I’m sorry for..your mom.” Michael forces out carefully- honest and open words having never been his strong suit.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but Trevor bursting into tears certainly isn’t it.

“I- I just- I can never make her happy! I try so hard! But I’m terrible! I’m awful! She deserves a better son, but fuck! Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ awful!” Trevor sobs, shooting to his feet as he drives the heels of his hands into his forehead.

“T! Hey, stop! Trevor!”

Michael gets to his feet as well, practically bear-hugging his frantic friend and pinning his arms at his sides to keep him from doing any more damage to himself. He’d seen Trevor hurt himself like this only a handful of times, but every time he’d witnessed it it deeply disturbed him, as well as broke his heart.

“Trevor, stop it! You haven’t done shit wrong! You did everything you could today besides roll out the fuckin’ red carpet! There ain’t no reason for you to hurt yourself over this!”

Trevor struggles against Michael’s grip, sobbing violently as he can think of nothing but breaking away and causing himself more “due” punishment, as he believes he’s done nothing but ruin his mothers day.

“You don’t fuckin’ get it! I fuck everything up! I’m awful, I’m terrible! I’m such a baby- such a useless shit! That’s why she had to work so hard! That’s why she’s always so angry with me! That’s why she left me- why everyone always ends up leaving me!”

His sobs make his chest heave and burn, and eventually it’s too much effort to even stand up as Trevor falls to his knees and brings Michael right along with him. And then they’re both sitting on the cold ground, with Trevor clutching desperately to Michael’s jacket like he may just leave too.

“I always fucked it all up! I ran off her boyfriends, I’d make too much noise in my room when she had men over for..work, I made my dad leave- so she had to work harder, I couldn’t get into the Air Force and make money for her! She had every right to be angry, every right to hate me.. I just- She- She’s my mommy.. I didn’t want her to leave me.. But everyone always leaves me..”

It feels so odd, so utterly strange to be holding his wild, bloodthirsty twenty-five year old best friend while he cries for his mother- it certainly wasn’t at all how Michael had planned on this day going. But Trevor’s words, and his broken, damp sobs actually begin to physically hurt Michael’s heart. And so, he promises him something he has no idea he’ll grow to regret.

“T,-.. Trevor, look at me- huh? I’m not gonna leave you. Alright? You’re my brother- we’re in this together, promise.”

And when Trevor looks up at him from under his thick, scarred brow, with his eyes leaking and his nose snotty and red, Michael sees a reverence and dependence in that gaze that would, over time, grow to chill him to the bone. But for now, all it does is make him sad.

“Forever?…” Trevor croaks out- a desperate hopefulness in those puppy dog eyes.

“Heh.. Yeah- sure, T. Forever. Or at least until we die in a hail of police gunfire.” Michael chuckles awkwardly as he tries to ignore the intensity in Trevor’s gaze,

“So, what’da’ya say we get up off the ground, huh? I could use another beer..”

And as Trevor’s moods often do, he’s flipped instantly from a sobbing mess to the grinning maniac Michael has grown to love as he hops to his feet and pulls Michael along with him,

“Ya know, I dunno know I’d do without ya, Mikey!”

“Crash and burn, probably, T.” Michael snickers, cracking open a beer and taking relief in Trevor’s lightened mood.

If only he had the foresight to see just how right he’d one day grow to be- maybe he wouldn’t have made that promise of forever.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael townley

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