#they will eventually tell me the truth if they feel they can trust me and if they don't then that is their business

[uncle-fruity]

I really want to underline some truth:

I am a better activist and a more energetic and enthusiastic participant in the issues I care about now that I've stopped believing the guilt trippers and have involved myself in activism on my own terms.

I get to decide what I do and do not care deeply about. That's not another person's place to tell me what I think and feel -- especially if it's a complete stranger. I know myself better than they know me.

I get to decide what is too much for me. I set my own boundaries and priorities. Other people might not agree with me, but they can die mad. I'm not their soldier to recruit, and what I do with my time and energy is my business, not theirs.

I know my body and my limitations better than anyone else. The people who truly love me and support me trust me to manage my ups and downs and do not assign a moral status to me when I take care of my needs first. Especially over time, they know that I will be back and ready to help out as soon as I'm able to. When I'm less able to participate, the people who love and support me take care of me and make sure I know they're there for me.

I am no longer doing activism in any real way online. At most, I try to provide some education and some emotional/mental health support. If you look at my Tumblr, you won't see even half of what I deeply care about. Part of that is a growing sense of internet safety, and another part of that is that there is very little I can do online that's going to make a difference. Another part of that is when you post stuff as a reaction or out of a sense of obligation, you're more likely to spread misinformation, especially if you don't take time to verify the information (which can be genuinely difficult if you don't know how to do that). I fell into that trap a fair amount when I was so guilt ridden that I was terrified to be seen as a Bad Person.

Which brings me to this major point: there will always be people who are quick to judge you and quick to make you out as a Bad Person no matter what you do. In someone's mind, you are probably already a Bad Person. Does that actually make you a Bad Person? Does someone else's definition of good and bad line up with yours, and does it matter? Have you considered that the person calling you a bad person might be a bad person by your standards? Who has the right to strictly define morality in the first place? Regardless of the answers to those questions, you don't have to let other people define you. And the guilt trippers are doing substantially more harm to the cause than people who are trying to rest for their emotional and mental health. I don't think that makes them bad people, but it does make them bad at community building, which is a fundamental necessity for activism.

My advice, if you really want to be a good activist, is to kill the part of your brain that tells you you aren't good enough and don't deserve rest until you are. No one can do it all. No one is a perfect activist or a perfect person. You need to have a clear idea of what your priorities are and what your capabilities are. You need to seek community and, as OP originally stated, joy. It's not just you who needs something to fight for or who needs breaks, your community needs it too. If you overwork and constantly retraumatize yourself, you will eventually hit burnout and you will not be able to help at all for much much longer than if you had just taken a break or made time for the good things in life when you first needed to. You also run the risk of creating a culture where no one else feels like they deserve rest and eventually burn themselves out, too. Then where does the movement go when all its activists are too stressed and tired and having a crisis of morality to do the work? The movement goes to die, is where. Sure, being angry is valid and important, but if that's all that's keeping you here, you're going to find that anger is not sustainable and will eventually give way to extreme depression when you realize that anger alone does not fix the many problems of the world. Your anger and guilt will kill a movement so much harder than indulging in a little positivity and rest from time to time.

Oh, and me? Now that I've gotten out of guilt trippy and frankly abusive online activist spaces, I am so much better at doing activism that matters. I organize a queer art group. I attend meetings to discuss problems and try to find solutions. I have more energy to educate myself and others. I can do more direct action. All of this is stuff that I literally had no space for while I was suffering from the burnout those online spaces caused that I now have space for because I decentralized social media in my life and especially in my activism.

Please. For your own sake and for the sake of the causes you care about: take a break. Have a rest. Do something fun. This is me telling you directly that the people guilt tripping you are being inappropriate & rude at best and literally abusive at worst. It is okay to forget them and live your life in ways that serve both yourself and others. They have no power to send you to Hell, I promise.

Sorry about the rant I'm just SO sick of this "we have to be on all the time never look away if you aren't upset about politics and traumatizing yourself watching people die on Twitter you're wrong and complicit and evil" like I know things are fucked and we need to stay angry but we can do that while also taking a minute to crack open a cold one with the boys or have gay sex or get tipsy at the line dance, we HAVE to have joy to remember why the fuck we're refusing to give up in the first place. Fight like hell for your loved ones and then also go home with them to smoke weed and drink sweet tea and make biscuits covered in honey and butter please, please don't deprive yourself of joy, you're allowed to be happy BEFORE the work is done. You're allowed to be happy.

[dan-crimes]

Mfs can't understand a blunt mf they always gotta try and read between the lines or straight up deny the words you're saying and deny how you feel

[entity56]

i think what people struggle fundamentally to understand is that schizophrenic and schizophrenic-adjacent people often hold so tightly to their delusions not just because that's the nature of delusions in and of themselves, but also because it's often the ONLY thing they can trust. (at very least in my experience if not a general thing. please correct me if i'm wrong.)

i implore you to imagine this for a second: you can't trust ANYTHING. you don't know what's real or fake. there are a bunch of different people and things shouting different ideas and opinions at you at all times all day every day and you dont know what to believe. it's like having a blindfold put on while people spin you rapidly in a chair and then let you go to stumble towards a moving goalpost.

it's not just opinions, either. it's people, and yourself. but let's focus on the former for a second. you don't know who to trust anymore. this black and white way of thinking makes you suspicious of everybody, because in your mind, you HAVE to be. otherwise you trust the wrong person and get hurt. it's like BPD in that way.

and you can't trust yourself, either.

so eventually, something comes along that, to you, feels like Undeniable Truth. in the case of delusions, it's not actually True, but you can't (fully) convince your mind of that, regardless of who or what tells you it isn't real. your mind has clutched to that truth like a vice because it's the first truth you could actually rely on in a while. it's security in a world that doesn't otherwise have it, regardless of how unpleasant the delusion is. a little part of you, conscious or subconscious, takes comfort in it.

that's why delusions are such a struggle. it's not just 'ooh i got abducted by aliens hehe i'm crazy'. delusions are both a symptom and a coping mechanism for other symptoms. at very least for me.

[maxtermind]

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing? 

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace. 

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them. 

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while." 

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her." 

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[6esiree]

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 (𝐈𝐈)

Summary: You get dared to call Vox and Adam daddy.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly NSFW, angst, canon death. Beware of Adam’s part. Idk how I wrote all that out of a game of truth of dare, but I did and I don’t feel like rewriting it </3. Anywho, MDNI!!!

Vox:

You had a life outside of the Hazbin Hotel, working at the entertainment district in Pentagram City. The casino you were employed by wasn’t exclusive, per se, but it might as well have been as it was a hot spot for overlords and other high-profile individuals. That’s how you became acquainted with the Vees, even though your shifts didn’t coincide with their visits half of the time. Tonight was an exception, however, and Velvette was in a particularly good mood.

Well, it actually took a few cocktails to get her there, but you weren’t complaining. She took a seat at the bar and mindlessly scrolled on her phone, only opening up when the alcohol settled in—nothing unusual. You were mentally prepared to have her talk your ear off about shit you couldn’t care less about, but she proceeded to surprise you by asking if you’d like to play a game.

Truth or Dare, Velvette suggested, leaving you wondering if you’d heard her correctly. It was easy to forget that everyone in this damned afterlife was normal to some extent, even an overlord like her. When she quirked a brow at you, motioning ‘Well?’ with her hand, you shrugged and said yes, never anticipating that she’d take the game further than most people did.

Velvette asked you to go first, so you did, glad that she settled for truth. You sucked at this game, and the last thing you wanted to do was frustrate her as you pondered endlessly over a dare. Anyway, as you whipped up an old-fashioned cocktail for a patron, you hummed, asking her to tell you something interesting about Vox. The man was a mystery to you, only ever uttering pleasentries instead of engaging in an actual conversation with you.

Velvette sipped at her drink, rubbing her chin in contemplation before shrugging and ultimately telling you that he wasn’t who he appeared to be on the surface. Vox was charismatic, yeah, but he was also weak. Blinking, you slid the cocktail to the patron, taking your money and shooing them away. Everyone knew that Vox valued his image, Velvette continued, and that he’d do anything to preserve the persona he had meticulously crafted since he manifested in Hell, but there were some things that were simply out of his control.

“What? Look, I’m not trying to call you a liar, but that’s kinda hard to believe,” You responded honestly, “What do you mean, ‘Out of his control’?”

“Trust me, he’s absolutely pathetic,” Velvette said, leaning over the counter to whisper to you, “Regarding the rest, you can find out yourself—that’s if you aren’t a pussycat, of course.”

You peered down at Velvette, knowing damn well that if you chose truth, she’d never let you live it down. Her fingers tapped expectantly against the counter, waiting for your response as you bided your time by cleaning the dirty glasses you had neglected earlier. Truthfully, you were afraid of what she’d make you do, but you eventually sighed and muttered dare.

“I knew you had it in you!” Velvette praised you before adding the next part. “Go and call him daddy, I dare you. You’ll see how he’ll crumble like that,” She snapped her fingers, “When a babe like you calls him daddy.”

You dropped your head and carded your hand through your hair, immediately regretting your decision. How the Hell would you get around to calling one of the most influential and powerful overlords daddy, exactly? As you raised your head to look at Velvette, you hoped that she had your back if he reacted poorly.

“What if he—“ You started, but then you were interrupted by one of your coworkers.

Velvette sat back down, annoyed, but also too drunk to complain. Anyway, they asked you to whip up some cocktails for the other two Vees, practically begging you to deliver it to them, too. When you quirked a brow at them, asking them why you should do their job as a waiter, they started to ramble on about how they had accidentally pissed off Valentino. Ah, fuck. Not like you’d say no anyway, especially considering what Velvette dared you to do.

Instead of giving them a verbal response, you waved your hand in dismissal, letting your coworker know that you had them covered. They thanked you profusely before scurrying off to tend to another table nearby, leaving you scowling as you got to work. Velvette watched you work your magic, assuring you that everything would be ‘Fiiineee,’ giggling when you rolled your eyes.

“Look, if I’m wrong—which I’m not—I got you covered,” Velvette added, watching you step out from your post behind the bar, drinks in hand. “Oh, wow! I’ve never seen the other half of you,” She gasped, but you ignored her.

You were so fucked—that’s the only thought that circulated your mind as you leisurely made your way to the VIP section. The bouncer at the entrance, a friend of yours, regarded you with curiosity when you stopped in front of him. ‘What’re you doing here?’ He inquired as he stepped aside to allow you access into the area, but you told him that you’d tell him later, feeling slightly anxious upon spotting Vox and Valentino.

The two overlords were lounging around on opposite ends of their booth, Valentino characteristically flocked by attractive sinners as pink smoke wafted around them, while Vox sat entirely alone, an annoyed look on his face as one claw tapped incessantly at the empty glass in his hand. As you approached them, you made sure to straighten your back and put on a friendly face.

“Hey! Uh, I got a Sazerac and a Lemon Drop here—whose is what?” You announced, holding out the drinks as you tried not to dissolve under everyone’s stares.

“Ah, I didn’t know you waited!” Valentino tilted his head, practically undressing you with his eyes, “The Lemon Drop es mío, cariño.”

Typical Valentino, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel uncomfortable by him. Unfortunately, you got used to his advances, the only one who could instill some semblance of uneasiness within you being Vox. He interacted with you the least out of the Vees, after all, but you never bothered wondering why until now.

“Apparently someone pissed you off?” You said, huffing as he enveloped your hand in his while handing him his cocktail.

“Don’t even remind me,” Valentino scoffed theatrically, “This establishment is full of idiotas—aside from you, of course. Say, you should wait for us from now on.”

Goosebumps littered your skin as you turned around to hand Vox his drink, realizing that he had been watching you the entire time, his eyes unashamedly following your every move. He didn’t shy away when you met his stare, either, which made you doubt Velvette’s words even more. Fucking Hell, why did you agree to play such a stupid game?

“Well, you’d have to talk to my boss about that, you know,” You continued the conversation, trying to quell the anxiety in your stomach. “The last thing anyone wants to do is pay someone two salaries.”

“Oh, cariño, I can easily arrange that,” Valentino chuckled, taking a sip from his cocktail, “Mm, yeah. I’ll definitely be talking to your boss tonight.”

And that was the end of your conversation with the moth, especially as his attention was stolen by one of the sinner’s next to him. Now that you had to face Vox, you never wanted to cease to exist more than ever. In fact, you hoped the next extermination would take you if things went wrong as you handed the man his Sazerac, his signature smile consuming most of his screen as he accepted it.

“Is everything alright with you?” Vox asked as his claws brushed against your knuckles, savoring the way you jumped at his touch, “You seem nervous, sweetheart.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment, watching how he took a sip from his drink. You would have recovered quickly if he hadn’t thrown a pet name at you, the way he uttered sweetheart with that voice of his making you feel slightly pathetic. But you had to get over yourself, especially because you could feel Velvette watching you from afar, waiting for you to do something.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine!” You said, shaking your head with a smile. “What about you?”

Vox blinked, confused. It was now or never, you guessed, taking a seat on his thigh and draping your legs over him. His body tensed underneath you, never anticipating that you’d do something so bold, but he didn’t push you off.

“Uh, why wouldn’t I be alright?” Vox asked after a few seconds had passed by.

When he didn’t protest to you being on his lap, you placed your hand on his chest, but it was mostly just to steady yourself. However, you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt under your palm.

“I don’t know—you look sort of pissed off, I guess?” You said, feeling how he tried to steady the rise and fall of his chest, the act fruitless as his heart rate gave him away. “Velvette’s at the bar, Val is…being Val, and you? Well,” You gestured to the free space around him, “Do I even have to say anything?”

Vox rolled his eyes, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he slithered one of his arms around your waist, holding you against him as he leaned forward to place his drink on the table in the center of the booth. A gasp escaped your throat—you couldn’t remember the last time someone held you against them like this. He was making it challenging to maintain your composure, especially as his hold remained on you as he sunk back into his seat.

“Look, I’m usually here outside of my own volition, alright?” Vox finally said, his free hand moving along with his mouth.

You hummed, making sure that he heard you. His response was total bullshit, you thought. There was nobody paying enough attention to him to ensure that he stayed.

“How? You can come and go as you please.” You said, speaking without thinking, “Everyone is too busy doing their own thing to even care that you’re still here.”

Vox’s eyes widened as you said that, and for a moment, you feared that you had overstepped. You were never so openly blunt, not even with Velvette, and you got along with her quite decently. On the other hand, this was your first real interaction with the man, so you dearly hoped you hadn’t upset him.

“I—shit—I’m sorry,” You quickly said, “I didn’t mean to overstep, it’s just—“

“Oh, sweetheart, if I’m upset, it’s only because you’re correct,” Vox interrupted you, his eyes relaxing as he gazed at you. “Now, it’s my turn to give you a hard pill to swallow—how can you apologize for being so blunt when you sat on my lap without my permission?”

You paled at his question.

“Hey, I asked you something first,” You quickly countered, which made Vox chuckle.

“You know, I’m starting to believe that we’re both here for the same reason,” Vox said, his free hand settling on your knee. “What do you think?”

If you had understood what Vox was implying, he was here for you. He tagged along with Velvette and Valentino to admire you from afar, and that baffled you, especially as he always appeared so confident, so eager to get what he wanted. Maybe that’s what Velvette meant when she told you that Vox wasn’t who he appeared to be on the surface, however, you still had yet to figure out how that made him weak.

Anyway, while Vox was correct, it was only to a certain extent. You had never thought about the man in any other way besides superficially, only sticking around him because of what Velvette dared you to do; but now that Vox had you in his embrace, his claws flexing against your hipbone, you decided that he was starting to grow on you.

“Hm, I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of admitting that you’re right,” You replied slyly, leaning in so you were chest to chest with him.

Vox stared at you with a large, toothy grin, pleased by your words. As you peered down at him, all you could think about was how perfect of an opportunity this was to turn the tables on him.

“But you’re correct…daddy,” You whispered, reaching up to trail your finger across his screen.

As soon as you called him daddy, you felt Vox’s screen warm up under your touch—so that’s what made him weak, you thought as you observed the way his face fell at such a simple word. Truthfully, it was satisfying to witness such a powerful man dissolve underneath you, but the feeling was short-lived. You blinked, noticing the way Vox sat insanely still. You snapped your fingers in front of him to see if he would respond, but he didn’t. Ah, fuck.

“Uh, Vox?” You said, narrowing your eyes at him, “Hi? Hey? Helloooo? Vox!”

Again, he didn’t respond. But you only started to grow concerned when the rest of his body began to warm up. Vox had a TV for a head, so maybe you had caused him to overheat? Your suspicions were confirmed when his screen suddenly turned blue, the phrase, ‘A problem has been detected and Vox has been shut down to prevent damage to his systems,’ on his screen, ‘The problem seems to be caused by the following file: Daddy.exe.’ Nothing could have prepared you for the way his length poked your leg, though.

And to make matters worse, the power went out. Great. Fucking great. Vox was hard and also temporarily out of order. At least Velvette was having fun, you thought as she howled in the background, somehow drowning out everyone else as they complained. You sighed, realizing that you couldn’t just get up off of his lap, not when you were shielding whatever dignity he had left.

So, you swiped the hat off of his head and fanned him to cool him down, even though your efforts were hardly making a difference. Meanwhile, you could hear your boss yelling in the background, ‘What the fuck happened to the power!?’ spotting her using the flashlight from the other end of the casino.

“The fuck is going on?” Valentino asked, standing up as he illuminated the area around you with his phone. “Vox, what the fuck? What’s wrong with you?”

“One moment he was normal,” You said, still trying to cool him down, “And the next he blue screened.”

Valentino took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke over his shoulder before leaning down to look at Vox. You’d heard through the grapevine that his vision was shit, and it was apparent in the way he took his time reading one simple sentence with narrowed eyes.

“The…problem…seems…to be…caused…by the…following…file…Daddy.exe,” Valentino slowly read aloud. 

You tried not to shrink under his gaze as he turned his attention to you.

“Well?” Valentino asked, quirking a brow at you as the power suddenly returned. 

“I didn’t know he’d…do all that when I called him daddy,” You muttered, hoping you hadn’t pissed off the moth. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done it—I swear.”

Instead, Valentino tossed his head back, a hand on his chest as he laughed. “I can’t be mad at una cosita linda like you,” He said, petting your head.

Thank God, you mentally sighed.

Suddenly, you heard a ‘zzt!’ your head snapping to Vox. As his body jolted upwards and his face replaced the blue screen, you stilled your ministrations. Blinking, he looked at you with an undecipherable expression, seemingly recalling what happened. You quickly put his hat back on his head, opening your mouth to apologize; but then Velvette ran up to the booth, showing all of you how she got everything on video.

If you weren’t fucked before, you certainly were now, the way Vox turned to you and grabbed your jaw after she left communicating that. “As soon as your shift is over, you’re leaving with me,” He said, leaving no room for you to refuse. “Understood, sweetheart?” You nodded your head obediently, unaware of how he was going to destroy your insides later that night, forcing you to chant the word daddy as he did so.

Adam:

Ah, Adam. The first man alive. You had the displeasure of meeting him your first Extermination Day, and God, was he full of himself. It was satisfying dodging and escaping him, hearing how he cried out in disappointment when you sought refuge in the darkest crevices of Hell’s infrastructure. “Yeah, run away you fucking coward!” You heard his voice bounce off the brick walls, your hand over your mouth as you stifled your laughter. What a loser.

You continued to fuck around with Adam, though, taking advantage of his reckless fighting style. He hated how slinky you were, the way you effortlessly slipped away from his grasp when he thought he finally had you frustrating him. By the third extermination, you started to tease him, relishing in his poorly disguised groans—a meager ‘Fuck you’—as you brushed against him or touched his wings.

Adam could have killed you a long time ago, the first time you escaped his clutches being sheer luck; but he kept searching for you, locating you with ease despite the fact that you never lingered in one specific area. You were well aware of this, so when you, Angel Dust, and Cherri Bomb were drunkenly playing Truth or Dare the night before the Exorcists attacked the Hazbin Hotel, you let them in on your history with Adam.

Big mistake on your part, especially as Angel took advantage of this information to dare you to do something insanely stupid. “Dare ya to call him daddy,” he slurred, Cherri smacking her chest as she choked on her beer. “Are you trying to get them killed?” She asked between coughs. Your friendship with her was relatively new, but she liked you too much to see you go so quickly.

“Let’s see if you’ll remember tomorrow,” You rolled your eyes, but Angel was adamant that he would. “Hey, maybe we might be able to take him down if ya distract him.”

Angel didn’t forget, and for the first time since you arrived in Hell, you were afraid of what might happen. You couldn’t care less about the dare—the people you grew to love and care for were being directly targeted, and you didn’t want to lose them. If anything, the idea of calling Adam daddy only served to spur you on, even if it would ensure your death. 

You stood alongside everybody else as the Exorcists poured into Hell from above, visibly gratified by the sight of so many sinners in one place. When Adam and Lute finally came into view, you made sure to wave at them with a smile. Lute was completely unaware of your past interactions, the scowl on her face a testament of that. Adam, on the other hand, looked oddly horrified. 

You would only face him after Alastor’s shield was broken, having slain several Exorcists by then, the evidence plain all over your clothes. Adam was strangely unfazed by this, however, seemingly too busy being pissed off by your presence when he found you behind the hotel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Adam said as he spun you around, his grip on you piercing.

You heard the moment Adam landed near you, but you gave him the satisfaction of believing he had caught you unaware. Huffing, you shook his hand off of you, pushing him back with your foot. That pissed him off. It was easy dodging his attacks, though—too easy, you realized. You quirked a brow at him as the two of you practically danced around each other, creating the illusion that you were fighting.

“Fucking hello? Are you deaf?” Adam asked, swinging at you but completely missing.

“You might as well fight with the air,” You said, but then he knocked your spear out of your grip. No big deal, your hands would do. “Seriously, what do they teach you up in Heaven?”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Adam said, lunging towards you in frustration. “Come over here, bitch—gotcha! Fucking finally!”

Never anticipating that he would pull such a stunt, Adam managed to tackle you to the ground. Fuck, he was heavy, but you’d find a way to escape his grasp. This is what you thought until he pinned your arms above your head, placing his legs on either side of you and caging your body underneath him. For the first time since he met you, you looked at him with fear. You were stuck.

“Shit, as hot as this is, it’s time for you to die, babe,” Adam said, but you knew he didn’t mean it—the second part, precisely.

“Why now?” You panted, your heart beating violently against your ribcage.

“What? What are you talking about?” Adam asked, his eyes widening as you bent your fingers to touch his hand, which were holding your wrists together. “Hey—what are you doing? Fucking stop that—“

“You could have killed me a long time ago, you know,” You interrupted him, forcing your body to relax in his grip in an attempt to appear genuine. 

Adam had a big mouth—everybody knew that. He would curse at every opportunity, the words, ‘Fuck,’ ‘Shit,’ and ‘Bitch,’ consisting of most of his vocabulary. But as he looked down at you, completely at his mercy, he had nothing to say. Not even a meager insult.

“I—“ Adam said, but that was all he had to offer.

You closed your eyes and exhaled, opening them after a few seconds. Angel’s dare echoed in the back of your mind, and you knew that you could weaponize it, but you needed to wear Adam down a bit more, his body too tense for your liking.

“Before I die, can I at least…see how you look like?” You asked, hoping it would work.

“You’re already looking at me right now, what?” Adam shook his head.

Of course he misunderstood you. 

“Behind the mask, I mean,” You specified, trying hard to be patient. 

“Oh.”

“Please?”

Adam looked over his shoulder, clearly hesitant. The fact that he was considering your request was a good sign, however, excitement blooming in your chest. After a minute or so, he turned back to you, sighing in defeat.

“I, uh—fuck, fine!” Adam stuttered, readjusting his grip on your wrists so he could remove his mask with one hand. “Don’t move, or I’ll, uh, kill you! Yeah.”

You nodded obediently, secretly curious as to how he looked like. As he held your wrists together with one hand now, Adam looked over his shoulder again, making sure that nobody was paying attention to you two. When he was satisfied, he tentatively reached up to grab his mask, his stare never leaving you.

You couldn’t help but notice how Adam’s fingers trembled. He looked so vulnerable, and that made your stomach feel a bit funny. You wanted to call him pathetic, but the way he slowly revealed himself to you squashed that urge. As much as he sucked, he was still a person, you realized, especially when his mask landed next to your head.

Your eyes darted across his face, taking in each and every one of his features. If anybody asked you to guess what Adam, the first man alive, looked like, you would have replied with ethereal. But as you took in the sight before you, he was…average, with pale skin, hazel eyes, ash brown hair, and stubble decorating his chin. Still, he somehow managed to mesmerize you.

“Are you done, uh, looking?” Adam stammered, turning away from you.

He was growing self-conscious under your gaze, and that made you feel…bad? Oh no, why did you feel bad? You noticed the funny feeling in your stomach was only growing stronger, making you nauseous. You had no idea what it was, but if you remained underneath Adam for a second longer, you feared that you’d discover what it was.

But before you could shut down whatever this was, you had to indulge yourself first, being the sinner you were. You also justified it by convincing yourself that he hadn’t been worn down enough yet.

“Kiss me,” You said.

“What?” Adam blinked, completely caught off guard.

“I said kiss me—are you deaf?” You said, throwing back his insult from earlier.

“Now why the fuck would I—I don’t want to—that’s crazy—“ Adam struggled to form a coherent sentence, nervously laughing in between his words.

“Kiss me, daddy.”

His grip on your wrists immediately loosened, shocked. You had him right where you wanted him, retracting your arms from above your head with a practiced speed, seizing his collar and bringing him in for a kiss. Adam gasped against your lips, but that was the only form of protest he gave you. Before you knew it, he had one hand buried in your hair, the other on the small of your back with the sole purpose of joining your bodies.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss, but you allowed it to progress, enjoying the feeling of Adam’s hands desperately clawing at you. Meanwhile, all he could think about was how he couldn’t kill you anymore. He was addicted to the way your lips wetly smacked against one another, your hands glued to his face and his face only.

Your body was starting to heat up, and so was Adam’s, you realized. “Fuck,” You whimpered, feeling his length poking at your thigh. When he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, his hand cupping the space between your thighs, your mind instantly went ‘Nope.’ You were in the middle of a battle, for fuck’s sake.

“Adam, we need to—“ You said, separating from the kiss, but he just dived right back in.

You grabbed his face, forcefully pulling him away from you. Adam peered down at you with rosy cheeks and bruised lips, his mouth slightly agape as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked absolutely blissed out, even as his hand remained in between your thighs, your head falling back with a moan as he started to massage you through your pants.

“Stop!” You cried, grabbing his wrist and squeezing him harder than you should have.

“Ow—what the fuck!” Adam whined, retracting his arm. 

When he looked at you like a kicked puppy, you rolled your eyes and sat up. 

“We are not going to fuck in the middle of…this! It’s not right,” You said, trying to snap him back to reality. “Look around you, Adam!” You gestured wildly, regret immediately replacing the arousal you previously felt.

“Fuck, I’m so selfish. What if my friends are dead? And I could have saved them if I weren’t so busy—“ You stopped rambling when you noticed the expression on Adam’s face.

He looked everything but apologetic, and God, did that piss you off. You quickly collected your spear from the ground and moved behind him, holding the weapon against his neck.

“Woah! Hey, babe! You don’t gotta do all that!” Adam panicked, his hands landing over yours, albeit putting no effort in pulling the spear away from his neck. “I’m sorry—you’re right—this is wrong and you—“

“Get up,” You demanded, kicking at his feet when he didn’t listen. “I said get up!”

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it!” Adam said, but he had to stop halfway into his ascent.

The man was taller than you, so there was no way he could stand up at his full height without risking getting choked. 

“Hey, genius, I can’t get up without your fucking spear—“ He started, but then he felt the weapon abandon his throat.

“Get the fuck out of here,” You said, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

“What?” Adam asked, his brows furrowed as he processed your question. “No, I’m not gonna leave. Do you have any fucking idea what just happened?”

You turned away from Adam, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You really hated yourself for what you were about to do, but it was the only way to get him to understand.

“So? Who cares,” You said.

“The fuck? I do, you stupid—ah, sorry, I’m not good at this kinda stuff,” Adam shook his head, frustrated. “But I…care, about you and whatever just happened.”

“I was only trying to save myself,” You said, but Adam wasn’t having any of it.

“Well, shit, you have a funny way of doing it,” Adam said, rounding you as he gauged your reaction. “Do you make googly eyes at every fucker who’s about to kill you, huh? Let them kiss you and touch you the way I just did?”

Screams pierced the sky, a reminder of everyone fighting right around the corner. You didn’t have the time to argue, especially as you thought about your friends, who were out there risking their lives while you were fucking around with Adam.

“I don’t want you, Adam. Okay? Get it through your fucking skull,” You lied through your teeth, seizing his collar and forcing him to look at you. “Look at what you and your dumbass army are doing! You’re slaughtering innocent souls that are fighting for a chance at redemption.” 

Adam stuttered, a look of disbelief upon his face. While it pained you to see him that way, your words were exactly what he needed to hear. If you allowed anything else to happen between you two, you’d never be able to forgive yourself.

“But what right do you have when you’re here in Hell—“ Adam tried to counter, but you didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

“I’m sorry, but you spared me out of your own goddamn selfishness, mercilessly killing other sinners because they weren’t me. I’m not special, and honestly, neither are you!” You continued, trying not to acquiesce as you heard his breath hitch in his throat. “You’re the Adam—so fucking what? I could never be with you, and you should’ve known that when all of your wives have left you.”

You bit your cheek as you pushed Adam away, trying not to apologize as his heart shattered into a million pieces before you. He could have killed you, but he didn’t, instead opting to watch you as you turned your back on him—just like everybody else he had ever loved. Little did you know that that would be the last time you saw Adam alive. “Did ya do it?” Angel joked as you observed his lifeless body, his face falling when you didn’t laugh. “Cause ya didn’t have to, but if ya did, uh, good job?” You eventually offered him a half-hearted nod. Hell had won, and Extermination Day had been cancelled, but you felt hollow as everyone brought you in for a celebratory hug.

[glasvera]

Hi not sure if your looking for requests but can you write something like the fic you just posted with punisher and winter smut but this time just winter? (Ps if you want could you add his kraken tentacles bc im are real sucker for those.please and thank you!)

Oh I GOT you-

What You Do To Me

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader

Description: You've recently acquired a new hero suit, and suddenly, Bucky's performance is suffering. Your obliviousness to his plight is maddening, and eventually something in him is going to snap.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, clothed sex, Bucky's arm tentacles, asphyxiation, rough sex, vaginal sex, tentacle bondage

A/N: Marvel Rivals has been doing a really good job of getting me all hot and bothered for characters I didn't think twice about when they were in the MCU. Godsdamn.

Word Count: 3.2k

“Hey! Barnes! Snap out of it!”

His teammate’s voice finally breaks through to him just in time for him to duck in cover while a sniper’s bullet grazes his organic arm. Bucky winces in pain and shakes his head to clear his mind; this mission hasn’t been his best work by far. He was being reckless. None of his teammates needed to tell him that.

But, then again, you had just begun debuting your new super suit. A skin tight leotard clings to your curves, lifting you in all the right places. Your tights stop at your thighs, leaving the rest of your skin exposed as they squish into the plush of your legs. I mean, could anyone really blame him for ogling?

“Bucky!” he hears your lilting voice call out as you make your way over to him, worry etched into your features.

Oh great. Now he’s never going to get you out of his head.

You slide over to hide behind cover with him, and he instinctively catches you by the waist to halt your momentum. A yelp escapes you when he inadvertently tugs you close to him. His metallic hand is cold, even through the fabric of your suit. You could have sworn it felt like it was trembling. But you don’t have time to think about that when you see the blood soaking into his shirt sleeve. Your hand hovers over it in an instant, your eyes closing shut and muttering the proper words as a cool blue light pours out from your palm, and he groans out his relief even if he shoots you a glare afterwards.

“Don’t worry about me. Get to the rest of the team and do your job.” He hadn’t meant to put so much venom into his voice, but you being this close to him was driving him crazy. He could smell your perfume, feel the curve of your bosom when he pulled you to him, hear the sweet concern in your voice as you uttered your incantations. Being around him right now was dangerous for you, and it wasn’t because of his reckless fighting.

That doesn’t stop him from feeling terrible pangs of guilt when you recoil from him, visibly hurt. “I…”

But this is the battlefield, and there is still truth to his words. You steel yourself and nod briskly. “Right. Of course. Be careful, Soldier,” you respond curtly before taking off back into the fray.

Even with you tending to the rest of the team, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. It was starting to frustrate him endlessly. Frustration, at least, was an emotion he could channel. His attacks get more aggressive, his shots more deadly, and he ensures every enemy who crosses his path feels his pent-up rage. That doesn’t mean he dodges well, however, and as your team finishes off the remaining stragglers, he’s a sweating, bloody, bruised mess. The adrenaline begins to fade, and suddenly it’s much more difficult to stand up straight.

You had followed his orders to the letter, leaving him to his own devices. You trusted Bucky, after all. He had been one of your partners for quite some time now. But now that the battle was over, you knew it was best to check up on him. You’d seen the way he was fighting. With an exasperated sigh, you approach him to help him to the med bay. He stiffens a bit but doesn’t protest when you throw his arm over your shoulder. The two of you stumble over to the make-shift medical center, and you lie him down onto a low table.

“S…Stop fussin’ over… over me,” he mumbles weakly when you place your hands over his wounds. “‘M fine… I swear.”

You let out a deep sigh and shake your head. “If you were fine, I wouldn’t have had to drag you back here. Let me take care of you.”

Bucky doesn’t hear a word of it. His ears are ringing, and his eyes are glued to your lips as you speak. Lips that would look so pretty wrapped around his--fuck. It’s too late, and he can feel the blood beginning to rush south. He lets out a low groan and turns his head away from you. If you were going to heal him no matter what he said, then he would just have to do everything in his power to avoid looking at you.

You take his silence as defeated compliance and continue your work. Your eyes shut tight, and you recite your healing spells while hovering your hand over different parts of his body. With the extent of his injuries, the two of you stayed behind long after all the others had left. That much time leaves far too much of it for Bucky’s mind to wander. Closing his eyes doesn’t help. He can still smell the faint fragrance of your perfume, and occasionally you rest your hands directly atop his body to better channel your magics.

It’s maddening.

And what’s worse is that you’re completely oblivious to the effect you have on him. When he shifts about, you can only assume it’s from the pain. With his mask on, you can’t see the way his face reddens with each escalating fantasy in his mind.

“Ah!”

Your sudden scream yanks him out of his perverted day dreams, and his eyes snap open to find his metal arm having come to life. The plates have withdrawn and tentacles wrap around your wrists, binding them together in front of you.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry!” he apologizes as he reigns himself in and sheathes his eldritch appendages back into his arm. Fuck, when had he…?

You were completely caught off guard, your chest heaving with your quickened breaths. It had happened just as you were finishing tending to the last of his wounds, and it was so sudden you had no chance to react. Of course you had seen Bucky use these in battle to crush his enemies, and so of course for a split second you were absolutely terrified. But they had been surprisingly gentle, looking only to restrain rather than constrict or break. This only left you even more confused.

“I-I… I’m okay,” you reassure him as you stare down at your wrists. When you finally meet his gaze, you can see the way his brow furrows. “Are… are you okay, Bucky?”

Why did you have to look so damn cute when you worry over him? Why did your suit hug your tits so perfectly as you leaned over him? His face feels hot, and he rips off his mask in a desperate attempt to ease his discomfort. It does little to help.

“Can’t… can’t control myself around you,” he mumbles mostly to himself, but with his mask off you’re able to pick up on his words.

“What do you…?” After a few moments, a few glances at his flushed face and blown pupils, you catch on to his meaning. You blush and let out a soft, “Oh.”

Did the Winter Soldier really think about you like that? But then the pieces are falling into place, and all of his behaviors from the last few hours are starting to make a lot more sense. Sure, you were hoping to catch his eye with your new suit. You’d been crushing on him for a while. You never would have expected to have such a strong effect on him, though. Admittedly, you felt empowered by it.

Bucky suddenly sits up then, ready to push himself off of the table. “You did your job. I should be going.”

But you place a hand on his chest, not using much force, but enough that he stays seated and eyes you dangerously.

“Let me go, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”

Despite his words, he scoots back slightly as you get closer. You rest one knee on the table alongside his hip, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you throw your other leg over him and straddle him. The bare skin of your thighs scrapes along the rough fabric of his cargo pants.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” you retort seductively.

His jaw clenches, and he takes in a deep breath. You were going to be the death of him.

“Last warning,” he growls. “I’m not gonna be gentle.”

Oh gods, you don’t want him to be gentle when he talks like that. You settle onto his lap, and his hardness presses up against your core deliciously. You grind against him as your hands grab hold of his vest collar. Strong hands grip your hips, trying to hold you still, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes. It’s taking every ounce of his restraint to keep him from fucking you like an animal.

Well then, you just need to break through that last little bit.

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” you purr as you raise a hand to trace your finger along his jaw.

He jerks his hips up into you then, releasing a staggered breath as his head hangs low. “Shit…”

The pad of your index finger encourages him to lift his chin and look at you again, and it’s at least some consolation to him that your eyes seem just as crazy with desire as he feels. “I’m a healer, Barnes. You can be rough with me.”

That’s it. The final thread snaps. He grabs a handful of your ass and cradles your head with the other, lifting and tossing you so you lie on the table beneath him. His lips crash onto yours. Technique is abandoned for raw desire as a clash of teeth and tongue ensue, but it’s so rough and devouring that you moan low in your throat. He bites and tugs on your lower lip until it’s swollen, tangles his fingers into your hair and pulls until it almost hurts, and his metallic fingers squeeze and fondle your breast through your suit. Your legs wrap around his waist and you desperately try to grind up against him to relieve the aching pressure in your core.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back to admire his handiwork as you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes, and immediately attacks your neck. He bites just below your ear and sucks hard on the skin before laving his tongue along the bruise he leaves. 

“Ahn… Bucky…” you moan, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck.

His name on your lips is intoxicating, and he growls against your skin as he grinds his growing bulge against your needy cunt. His hand leaves your breast to tug desperately at the neckline of your leotard and reveal more unmarked skin. At least this suit was made to withstand all sorts of stress and impacts that would destroy normal fabri-

RIIIIIP

It tears like paper in his grip, and you gasp out in surprise when he rips it straight down the middle. The sight of more and more of you bared before him sends him into a frenzy, and you notice the metal plates shifting as though those tentacles of his were begging to break free. This unrestrained side of him shouldn’t turn you on this much, but you can feel the wetness pool in response.

For a split second, a flicker of remorse passes over his face. “Sorry,” he mutters, but just as quickly he returns to pawing at your flesh and fondling your exposed breast.

Your arms leave his neck and you raise them above your head, crossing your wrists.

“I told you not to hold back,” you state simply, looking pointedly at his metallic arm.

He cocks his head to the side and gives you a warning glare. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he argues, but he can’t deny that the thought of it was drawing forth incredibly hot images in his mind.

“What, you think I’m not strong enough for a little bondage?” you accuse, pouting and sticking out your kiss-swollen lips.

“That’s not--fuck,” he stammers, words failing him as he feels the last of his self-control slipping away. “If I hurt you--”

“--I’ll heal it later,” you interrupt him, bringing your hands down to cup his face tenderly. “Bucky, if I didn’t want this, if I didn’t want all of you, I wouldn’t be here.” His movements stop as his attention focuses on your face and your words. You nod your head towards his metallic arm that looks ready to burst at its vibranium seams. “I know you can control it. I trust you. Plus,” you pause, shooting him a flirty smirk as you return your arms to rest above your head, “what kind of girl would I be if I didn’t take advantage of the Winter Soldier’s tentacles?”

A breathy chortle vibrates from his chest. “You’re terrible. And kinky.” He lowers his head just inches away from your lips, capturing your gaze. Metal slides and shrieks as plates shift, and you hear the quiet slithering before you feel tendrils wrapping around your wrists again.

“And it’s fucking sexy,” he finishes before kissing you again.

Those tendrils don’t stop at your wrists. You feel them parting the remaining fabric of your ruined leotard, wrapping around your breasts, curling around your thighs… Bucky ruts into you shamelessly now, grunting animalistically into the kiss as he spears his tongue into your mouth. You fight for dominance but relent quickly as his lips and tongue devour your very essence, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. Resting his weight on a mass of tendrils, he quickly unbuckles his belt and nearly rips the button and zipper off of his pants as he tries to free his cock. The weight of it falls solidly against your stomach, and you whimper at the heat of it against your skin.

“Mm…” you moan between kisses. “Fuck me,” you mutter against his lips.

Oh, that sound was definitely being archived in his memory for later. But you teased him to the breaking point earlier, so it’s only fair that he returns the favor.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asks, taking himself in hand and stroking it as he nudges the tip teasingly against your clit. You frown up at him and let out a soft mewl. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Bucky,” you keen. “Please…”

“Please what?” he taunts, rubbing the tip up and down your drooling slit. You try to buck up against him, but tentacles wrap around your hips and hold you down.

“Please!” you practically cry out. “Please fuck me!”

“Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

He lets out a triumphant huff before guiding his cock to your entrance. Slick with your juices, he slides in slowly yet easily, only giving you just long enough to accommodate to the stretch before pushing in further. Your head falls back against the table with a soft thud as a low moan drawls from your lips. He fills you perfectly. Once he starts moving in and out, you can feel every delicious draw of his length along your walls.

“Yes, fuck…” you curse as your ankles lock behind his waist. The tentacles on your hips release their grasp, instead traveling upward to wrap around your beautiful neck. You feel Bucky hesitate, but once they squeeze you gently, he can’t miss the way your pussy clenches around his cock in response. Fuck, there was no way he was going to be able to last long with you. Not if you were going to keep being this kinky, this sexy.

You angle your hips up to meet his thrusts as he increases his pace. Immediately your moans increase in pitch as he starts hitting that perfect, spongy spot inside you. His pubic bone hits your clit with every thrust, and your thighs quiver around him as you feel the pleasure building. The tendrils around your neck squeeze harder, leaving you with just enough air to remain conscious, and yet another snakes down your stomach to circle your bundle of nerves. You were in heaven, your eyes going crossed as he fucks you in earnest. He goes harder, faster, grunting as he palms your breast and pinches the nipple between his fingers.

CRACK!

That’s the only warning you have before the table snaps straight down the middle, and both of you go crashing down to the ground. It takes you both by surprise, but Bucky is too far gone to let it affect him for long. Instead, the tentacles wrapped around you lift you and reposition you until you’re on your knees. You’re thankful to still have your tights on as your knees meet rough concrete, but that’s the last sane thought you have before Bucky enters you from behind. The tendrils around your wrists lift your arms up so your back is arched against his chest as he leans over you. His arm wraps around your waist and grips tight, fucking into you like a feral animal and panting desperate growls and grunts into your ear.

Tendrils leave your neck and you gasp for air, and then they’re replaced by Bucky’s firm hand. He doesn’t choke you, instead content to feel the curve of your neck beneath his fingers as his thumb caresses your jawline. Your moans go uninhibited now, singing a song of lust and debauchery for his ears alone.

This angle has him somehow hitting your g-spot even more thoroughly, and the tentacle at your clit flicks and rubs ceaselessly. You can feel yourself getting close, and the way you spasm and clench around his cock drives him closer and closer to the edge himself. Your velvety walls suck him in like they never want him to leave, like his dick was made to be in your pussy.

“Bucky, I-I’m, I… fuck--”

“Me too, Y/N,” he concurs in a gravelly voice.

He fucks you with reckless abandon, bringing you closer, closer, closer--

“Cum for me,” he commands before taking your earlobe between his teeth.

The coil shatters, and a wordless scream leaves your jaw slack as you shudder and convulse around him. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you in its hedonistic warmth. Bucky follows soon after, his thrusts quickening and his groans growing more and more feverish. With a few final thrusts and a guttural roar, he empties himself in your womb. He’s panting, sweating through his clothes, and the two of you collapse sideways onto the cold concrete floor as you catch your breath.

“That was…” you breathe out, not even sure what the rest of the sentence was supposed to be.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, returning his tendrils to the safety of his metallic arm as it shifts back to its original shape. He hugs you close, spooning you and holding you gently. It was a stark contrast to the way he was pounding into you just moments ago. “Stay with me for a while?” he asks you softly.

Yeah, you were definitely going to need to heal yourself after that. But for now? This…

This is nice.

You respond to him by snuggling closer against him, resting your arms over his. You can stay like this for as long as he wants you to.

[aceof-stars]

One thing I love about Miles Edgeworth is how realistic and practical he is, more than he is moralistic. As much as Miles cares about justice and doing what he thinks is right, he’s not fueled by belief the same way, for example, Phoenix is. And this is one of the things I feel like gets ignored or brushed aside when Miles's character is softened too much.

Both pre and post redemption, Miles puts a lot of emphasis on reality and the bottom line of what people can do in a situation.

In Turnabout Goodbyes, the first thing Edgeworth says in response to Phoenix asking him why he became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney is: "… I couldn't let myself deny reality like you."

He also doesn't truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty, contrary to popular belief. In Turnabout Sisters, he says this: ""Innocent"…? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy." Miles is disillusioned with finding the truth and trusting people that he settles for doing all he can hope to do.

And when you think about it, his motivation of finding the truth is an extension of his realism. After all, the truth is quite literally the most objective, realistic thing ever. In 1-3, after helping Phoenix convict Dee Vasquez, he says: "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle." The truth as a motivation is probably a grounding force for him.

When Miles comes back in Farewell My Turnabout, he calls out Phoenix's flawed motivations for becoming a defense attorney by offering realism: "We aren't some sort of heroes. We're only human, you and I. You want to "save someone"? That's something easier said than done, wouldn't you say? You are a defense lawyer. You can't run away from that. You can only fight. That's all you can do." Miles isn't saying Phoenix can't "save someone". Miles is saying that Phoenix shouldn't be so focused on saving someone that he forgets that his job as a defense attorney is only to fight for them.

Side note, I love the way Miles comforts people, he isn't exactly "nice" but he's incredibly kind. His blunt honesty digs at the heart of the matter, and he gives them an extra push because he respects them enough.

And then there's, possibly, my favorite Miles Edgeworth line: "It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you." This directly parallels the line he says in 1-2, and it makes me emotional every time I think about it.

The fact that Miles Edgeworth never lost his unwavering realism, in both quotes he acknowledges how untrustworthy people can be, but gained a new purpose.

[joicecubes]

hey guess who’s absolutely losing it over the stan twins again (spoiler alert its me)

so i was innocently scrolling tiktok when i was introduced to this DIABOLICAL au idea: firstly, what if ford really had shot stan with his crossbow when stan first showed up at the shack? and secondly, what if ford tried to bring him back to life frankenstein-style? (full credit to tiktok user @44boora for this idea, go check their account for some gut-wrenching art) (also… full post below the cut this got long)

but like i was thinking about this, ford bringing stan back to life specifically, and how dependent the concept is on this specific time in his life. i just feel like any other time and under any other circumstance, ford would have been able to, eventually, accept stan’s death. we see it at the end of weirdmageddon, where ford is ready to accept that the stan they all know and love is gone now that his memory has been erased. he tells mabel as much, and only realizes there’s hope for him when mabel is determined enough to push back against ford’s logic. ford believes very intensely in his own perception of the world. he believes in science. theoretically, he believes death is death, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

but then, think of ford after he’s been betrayed by bill. this ford is at his absolute lowest. he can’t trust his own perception of the world anymore. he’s seen the truth of what their relationship was and the horrors he was so close to unleashing on their universe. he is desperate to right his wrongs. he’s losing sleep, his body is abused every time he closes his eyes, and the end of the world as he knows it is iminent if he doesn’t succeed in making the portal as secure and unusable as possible without dismantling it entirely. the only person he believes he can trust after everything that’s happened is stan. so he contacts him for help, and in his time waiting for him to arrive, cannot stop thinking of the worst-case scenario: that bill could still be coming for him. so when he opens the door to stan, his high-strung, paranoid brain doesn’t see stan, and he shoots.

he shoots his own brother with a crossbow and kills him.

ford is not usually one to blatantly ignore a scientific fact. again, death is death, and there’s nothing he can do about that. and yet, in a state of such intense grief, when his entire world is already close to crumbling around him and he’s holding his dead brother in his arms, there’s nothing else he can feasibly do but deny. so he does.

he lives in denial of a lot of things. that stan’s death is final, obviously, but also his reasonings for attempting to do the impossible and revive him. ford likes to believe he operates purely on logic, so he tells himself he’s doing this because he has to. without stan, he can’t prevent bill from entering their universe. he’s still the only person ford can trust, so reviving him is another step in his ultimate goal of stopping bill and saving the world. it doesn’t matter that its never been done before, ford will do it anyway. and he believes that he can, because as much as he thinks he’s moved on from his hubris, he’s still acting off the assumption that he’s special. he’s so far ahead of everybody else, so naturally, if anybody could accomplish the impossible and bring stan back from the dead, its ford.

and so he denies that the real reason he’s trying to save stan is not a logical one. he denies that he’s running entirely on emotions. it would be foolish to try something so risky and impossible and time-consuming if he were only doing it because of his crushing guilt and decade-long yearning, so he tells himself there’s so much more to it than that. he can’t just be doing this because he loves him, right? he’s not that shallow. he’s not that desperate.

and yet, he is. because as much as ford wants to deny it, he can’t live without stan. he can’t live with the knowledge that he was responsible for stan’s death. if he didn’t succeed, his grief would surely kill him.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Kinktober Day 2: Terms and Conditions [Toby X F!Reader]

Warnings: consensual non-con, slightly rough sex, bondage-ish MINORS DNI

Kinktober Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated!

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel his gloved, rough hands grip at your waist. He’s pushing you face down on your couch, legs braced against the arms and your torso pinned down to the cushions. Tears well in your eyes as you sneer. 

“Don’t make that face at me,” he chuckles as his fingers dexterously move to hooking into the waistband. “You agreed to let me in.” 

You huff as the sensation of cold air flashes your lower half. Heat dusts your cheeks when you hear the sound of a zipper coming undone. Your mind flashes back to the very moment that led to this. Your parents had always warned you to not trust strangers, but he looked so… helpless. He said he just needed a ride to the gas station, where he could use a phone or borrow one and his friends could pick him up. 

You felt bad for him and let him in. 

The two of you made polite conversation. 

He asked where you lived. 

He stuck a gun to your head. 

You said you’d do anything. 

And these are the terms and conditions to live. 

“Y’know, there was a time doing shit like this would get me hard from the thought alone,” he muttered to himself. His head tipped forward just a bit as he palmed his cock and started to stroke. Wasn’t anything fancy, just getting himself to the place he needed to be before he buried himself in you.  

You hear Toby spit and you cringe. 

“What did I say about making faces?” He questions as he cocks his brow up. He presses the head of his cock at your entrance and you suck a deep breath in. 

“What about a condom?” You ask, your voice soft and timid. You’re unsure of why you asked, only that you did out of stupid concern. In a situation like this, you really can’t deign to even think you’d get what you want. 

Toby looks at you and starts to press himself inside of you. “You don’t want a little me running around?” He sarcastically asks. He laughs softly to himself, partly in self pity and partly because you were actually worried about pregnancy at that moment. “I got snipped years ago.” 

You can only hope he’s telling the truth. Suddenly, you feel him push his hips against you, a low groan sounding from his parted ups as he squeezes your waist. You cry out softly and your body turns to mush. “W-Woah-!” You barely have any time to process the way he splits you open. It’s a white hot flash of surprise, even a little pain just from his size alone. He’s not too long, not from what you can feel, but he’s thicker than average. You haven’t even needed to see a cock to know that. Your nails dig into the cushions of the couch as he presses harder into you. 

“Fuck,” he manages to spit out through grit teeth, “haven’t gotten laid in a-fuck-while, have you?” He’s teasing you, of course. What else would he be doing knowing that you’re just going to take it like a champ in order to keep your life. He moans softly when he finally hilts inside of you, almost blushing at how warm and tight your cunt is. He knows it’s partly because your head won’t let you get wet, but the longer he stays buried inside of you he can actually feel you starting to cave. Before either of you know it, you’re starting to gush around his cock. “There it is,” he taunts you, “pretty, wet little cunt. Knew you’d give in eventually.” 

Toby moves forward and grapples at your wrists, loving the small fight you give him before you ultimately give in. It’s a cute effort, really, but he has your wrists tangled in his fingers and held tight behind your back. And he thrusts. Harder. Harder. He feels your legs press together as you try to deny yourself pleasure. 

The sound of skin on skin echoes throughout the room. “You’re taking it real good,” he hums as he starts pounding into you. He can feel your pussy press harder and harder around him. He watches as your eyes start to roll up when your face lolls to the side in an effort for you to breathe more oxygen. “Just keep taking it. Almost there.”

You hiss another breath and try to block out how good he’s making you feel. “Oh my god-” you moan softly. You feel like you’re going to burst from how hard he’s fucking you. Your legs press tightly together, almost like you’re trying to merge them into one another before you feel it. “A-Ah fuck!” And there it is. You gush between your legs, cumming on his cock. Wetness streams down your heated thighs as he continues to pound you through your high. Your nails dig into the palms of your hands as Toby holds you in place.  

He takes in a deep breath and presses against you, stilling and then spilling within. A deep sigh rumbles up from his chest and he softly pants, his body shivering from the release. He closes his eyes and slowly releases his grip. “Nice job,” he compliments before stilling and untangling himself from you.

A few moments pause and you twist your body a bit, looking up at Toby. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly as he helps you up, his strong arms cradling you gently. He rests his tired body down on the couch and brushes some of the sweat off your brow. “You really did take it well,” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead. 

You smile sweetly and close your eyes as he peppers your face in soft, little kisses. “Yeah I’m okay,” you answer. “Are you okay?”

Toby nods as he continues to cuddle you, treating you like a cute little teddy bear that he needs for comfort. “Mhm, fine as long as you’re fine.”

[geekishfangirl]

Seen so many Peter Parker in Gotham fics, and while I love them, I would love to see a Batfam in Marvel fics. Especially with the Richard Grayson is Richard Parker idea!

I like to imagine they somehow end up in Peter’s New York (idk how, haven’t thought about it that much) and in their attempts to find a way back to their home universe end up catching the attention of either SHIELD, the Avengers, or just Tony. They are confronted by whoever catches them and, maybe under duress or the idea that they don’t have the resources to get home alone, explain their situation. It all leads to them staying with Tony while they’re there and it all comes to a head when they meet Peter. Because that looks just like Dick! They start trying to spend more time with him to figure out if it’s just a crazy coincidence or not, and eventually realize this is the alternate universe version of Dick’s son!

I love this idea because it makes me wonder about so many things and I feel like it has a lot of possibilities. Like, the batfam is extremely cagey about who they trust, why and how do they end up telling the truth about what happened to them? If we’re talking the MCU (I honestly just like to pick things I like from each universe and make my own but whatever works lmao) Do they end up meeting the Avenger’s pre-Civil War or after? And if after, what would their thoughts on the Accords be?

How would they react to Peter’s story? He barely remembers his father, if he does at all. How would Dick react to the idea of his son growing up without him? To never meeting Bruce and his siblings (if they even exist in Peter’s world) and instead getting adopted by another family? There was never any Robin or Nightwing. He is DEAD in this universe and is watching his adult or near adult orphaned son look to a billionaire superhero as his father figure, just like he had! it would be interesting to highlight both the similarities and differences in the relationship of Tony and Peter to that of Dick and Bruce.

How would they react to Spider-Man and the snap?!

I need someone to write this honestly, there’s so much potential here, I can feel it in my bones.

[revelboo]

This bad boy finally arrived, I've waited for him for 2 weeks with D-16~ and couldn't wait to show him to you(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

Ahhh! He’s gorgeous. Mine finally hit stateside, so maybe this week!

Everything Is Alright Pt 108

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Laying your head against his shoulder, you feel Starscream's servos tangle in the hair at your nape. Holding you to him as the hum of his spark spills into you and soothes away the tension, familiar and comforting. "When's the last time we've been alone like this?" He murmurs and you smile, looking up at him to find those red optics watching you. And his answering smile is uncertain and rueful. Lowering his head to brush his cheek against yours, mouth right there, feeling him venting softly. "We could just go. Just us." Those optics snare you, your heart aching with his words, with how his raspy voice almost breaks. "No Soundwave. No Megatron. No war. Just you and me." Smiling up at him, you know as lovely a dream as it is, one you'd have agreed to without hesitation not that long ago, you know it's just that. A dream. That he can't let go of his own hunger for power and you can't just abandon Soundwave now.

• Optics shuttering when you reach up to cup the side of his face, before your lips ghost against his own. "You know we can't," you whisper, and he leans his head against yours. Wants to argue with you, but knows you're only telling the truth even though he hates it. Feels your thumb slide against his cheek. Hate himself, too. Still believes in the Decepticon cause. That he can lead them to the world they all dreamed of. Rise up and reclaim Cybertron once and for all. And that thought jars him. Realizing he does still dream of returning home. Just assuming that he'd bring you along with him. Nothing changing. You'd still be so small and helpless, but far from your own kind. Would you come to resent him eventually? Would you go with him willingly or would he be stealing you against your will again?

• "You know I love you, right?" Going still as his optics open and find you, you realize it's as close to an actual 'I love you' as he's ever gotten. Maybe as close to being vulnerable as he can be. When you'd been tangled in his spark, you'd seen everything all at once, drowning in him. The weight of all his insecurities and fear suffocating. But it's not like you hadn't known what you were getting into. Had known he was insecure and egotistical when you first started talking to him. Learning that he was also clever and quick-witted, his real smiles fragile but so warm. Head nudging your own, his servos feather through your hair. "That everything I do now is for you? For us?"

• "I know," you say. And there's nothing he won't do for the future he's desperate for even as the details keep shifting. No longer as sure about what he wants, only that he wants you at his side. Needs you there. That there's nothing he won't do to keep you safe and in his arms. Those gentle eyes stare up at him. Trusting. Because to protect what he has right now? He'll burn the world down if he has to. Rule over a kingdom of ash if it means you'll be safe. Protect you from any threat, even yourself or your other bond mate if need be. Because that bond with Soundwave isn't complete, is it? It can still be severed.

• "Trust in me then. Only me," Starscream's mouth slides against yours, coaxing without any heat or hunger before rubbing his cheek against yours as you relax against him. Because you want to. Want to be able to trust him. To believe that he won't abandon you again as you lay your head against his shoulder and he lays his chin on top of your head. Feel his servos capture your hand and bring it to his mouth to press a kiss against the inside of your wrist. "I'll keep you safe."

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[verstappen-cult]

JEALOUS BOYS | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando wants to scream and tell you to shut up, but he will never do that, never. it doesn’t matter how much he wants you to stop talking about the guy you’re currently seeing and how amazing he is. he knows he lost his chance because he wasn’t brave enough to confess his feelings when you told him how you felt. he didn’t tell you that he didn’t feel the same but he didn’t tell you he shared your feelings either, so it’s normal that you’d move on. but it’s getting to the point where he thinks you’re doing it on purpose. lando always answers with ‘yes, no, uhu, mmh’ when you talk about the guy, so it’s impossible you don’t know he doesn’t care.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

if looks could kill, your friend would be buried ten meters underground. you’d told him there is nothing to be worried about and he trusts you, god he trusts you so much. but he doesn’t trust your friend, not even one bit. you’re quick to notice his annoyance, excusing yourself with your friend and taking his hand to go to a more secluded corner where you ask him what’s going on. and charles can’t lie to you, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up: “i don’t like the way he looked at you” but you can’t get angry, not when he looks so hurt and insecure.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

when oscar feels jealous, he doesn’t say anything. he waits until you’re home, alone and comfortable to bring up the topic. he tries to deflect and say that everything is okay when you can clearly see that is not. you’re very understanding which gives him the courage to say everything, and you are grateful for it. you hug tightly whispering in his ear how much you love him, that he’s the one for you. oscar is happy to have such a healthy relationship where he can be vulnerable and don’t feel judged.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max wants to punch the guy, he really wants to make him suffer. why does he has to touch your arm to speak to you? does he not know about personal space? he wants to walk to the bar and drag you out of there, but he has no claim over you. you’re not dating, you’re not even hooking up or something; you’re friends, just friends. and max has never hated a word so much before. you eventually walk back to him with the drinks you went to collect in the first place before that asshole got your attention. and if by the end of the night max confesses his love for you because he’s a little bit drunk, you don’t need to tell anyone else about it. or anything about the many kisses you shared.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex jokes about being jealous but you know there is truth behind his words. and he doesn’t really know he is jealous until you point it out. “i don’t know what is happening to me but they annoy me so much.” and you laugh, not to make fun but because you’ve never seen someone look so cute while jealous. alex ends up forgetting all about his jealousy the moment he feels your lips. then, he can only think about you.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel just ignores you when he’s jealous which, you know, hurts. you don’t push him, you wait and wait until he feels better and seeks for you. he says sorry but he felt insecure and doesn’t like to feel that way. you’re allowed to have friends but not friends that act as if he doesn’t exists and he just doesn’t want to share. he looks like a little kid who didn’t get what he wanted on christmas day. you stay angry at him just for a little longer.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

it’s no secret that you’ve been dancing around each other for some time now, neither of you willing to take the first step and admit your feelings. that is until he sees you laughing with some stranger at a party. he’s a little tipsy and doesn’t mind being a bit rude when approaching you both, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "what was so funny? why were you two laughing?" the guy gets lost no long after that, which makes him feel very proud until you’re screaming at him and he doesn’t know what to do but kiss you to shut you up. finally.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[veltana]

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

[multifandoms4]

Secrets

Lando Norris x Leclerc!Reader

Word count: 1.2k+

You and Lando have been together for about a year now, but no one knows. You kept your relationship a secret because of how the press can be and more importantly your older brothers. You love your brothers but sometimes they can be a bit much, like now. Lando had accidentally left a hickey on your neck and your brothers saw it before you could hide it. And now, they were practically interrogating you.

Charles was pacing around the room, Lorenzo was just sitting and staring at you and Arthur was asking you questions. "Who have you been seeing?" "How long has it been going on?" "Why would you not tell us?" You kept silent and didn't answer any of their questions which only made Charles more angry. Your phone started to ring, but Charles grabbed it and saw it said “Baby❤️” then answered it. “Hey baby, when are we meeting up today?” Lando asked before Charles could say anything. “You’re dating LANDO?!” He yelled at you then he started yelling at Lando who just hung up on him.

You looked up at Charles to see him fuming. “Cha, please listen-” “No, I asked one thing of you years ago and that was to never date another driver. And what do you go and do? Exactly that.” You could feel the tears building up as Charles shows his anger and disappointment towards you. Eventually you got up and walked to your room and started to pack a small bag of clothes. You grabbed your keys and looked at your brothers, “You may not agree or be happy about me being with Lando but it is my choice and I love him. So when you are done throwing a tantrum, come talk to me then.” You grabbed your phone and left.

Lando was parked outside and opened your door for you. “Thank you Love.” You murmured and gave him a small kiss. He closed the door once you were in the passenger seat and got in the car. The ride to his house was mostly quite and he didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry that I caused us to be caught.” He whispered. Lando felt terrible that your brothers were rude to you because he had left a hickey by accident. “It’s okay Lan, the truth would have to come out anyways.” You told him. “I just want to forget about it.” You whispered. He nodded and when you got to his house, you changed into a hoodie of his and laid down.

He got into a pair of sweatpants and laid down with you. Lando pulled you into his arms and you buried your face into his neck. “They wouldn’t let me explain and all I could see was Charles’ anger and disappointment.” You whispered. He pulled you closer to him and held you there. “I’m sorry baby, I wish I could do something to help.” He said and you could tell he was upset at your brothers. “Just being here is enough.” You told him and slowly drifted off to sleep. Right before he went to fall asleep, your phone started ringing. He saw it was your mother and answered it.

“Hello Mrs. Leclerc, this is Lando Y/n’s boyfriend. She is currently sleeping.” He waited for her response afraid she was going to yell at him. “Can you please tell Y/n that I want you and her here tomorrow night for dinner. I’ll keep her brothers at bay but I would like to meet you.” Lando was shocked that was what she called about. “I’ll let her know, thank you so much Mrs. Leclerc.” He replied. “She seems to really trust you if your who she went to when she’s upset. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” She ended the call and Lando finally drifted off to sleep.

Once morning rolled around and Lando took you out for breakfast, he told you “Your mom called last night and told us to be at dinner tonight.” You slowly put your fork down. “She did what?” “She called and I didn’t want her to worry over you so I answered and told her you were fine. Then next thing I know, she’s invited me to your family dinner tonight.” You smiled at him “At least maman seems to be happy I’m dating you.”

~time skip to dinner~

Lando had went out and bought your mom her favorite flowers and he was nervous to say the least. You opened the door and yelled out “We’re here.” Then you heard footsteps which turned out to be your mother. “How are you doing dear?” She asked you. “I’m fine maman, really.” She smiled then turned to Lando “These are for you Mrs. Leclerc.” He handed her the flowers. “Oh they are so pretty! Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” You gave Lando’s hand a squeeze and followed your mom.

Your brothers were already sitting at the table and you could tell they were not happy. “Lando, these are my other two brothers Lorenzo and Arthur.” You pointed to them and they just stared back at him. “Guys this is Lando.” You said trying to get someone to talk. Once you realize that they weren’t, you went to the kitchen to help your mom. “You can come with me if you want.” You told Lando. He nodded and grabbed your hand. His hands were a little unsteady due to nerves. “It’s okay baby. The only one whose opinion matters is me and of course my maman’s.” You joked with him. He gave you a smile and a laugh. You smiled up at him and pulled him down for a quick kiss.

Dinner had gone smoothly thanks to your mother but she truly loved Lando and that was all you could ask for. Both of you were currently sitting on the patio in the back yard. “I told you you had nothing to worry about.” You teased Lando. He rolled his eyes playfully and you laughed at him. “You’re always right aren’t you?” He joked with you. “Something along those lines.” You remarked and pulled him into a kiss. It lasted a few minutes before you pulled away and rested your head on his chest. Arthur and Lorenzo really like Lando once they got to actually talk to him but Charles seemed to hold onto his anger. At least until now.

He was watching you and Lando and he could see how good you are for each other. He looked down and started to feel guilty for yelling at you over this when you had always been supportive of his relationships. Once Lando decided to call it a night, Charles stopped him on his way out. “I know I’ve been rude all night but you make my sister happy and you seem to treat her right. That’s all I can ask for.” Lando nodded “Thanks man, that means a lot to me.” Charles pulled him in for a hug and it made you happy to see that.

After Lando left, Charles apologized to you about how he acted and handled the situation. “Definitely could have been handled better.” You joked with him. “I’m just glad that you came around and aren’t going to try to kill him every chance you get.” You smiled and gave him a hug. “How long have you two been together anyway?” Charles asked as you walked to your room. “About a year now.” You stated and shut your door. “A YEAR?!” Charles shouted and it made you laugh.

—————

Author’s note:

Hey, this is my first time writing an image so please ignore any mistakes. I’ve been wanting to write things for a while but finally decided to do it. If you have any feedback please let me know but please don’t be rude about it. Hope you enjoyed it!

[guiltyasdave]

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you. 

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him. 

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it. 

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back. 

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in. 

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly. 

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down. 

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice. 

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play. 

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last. 

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before. 

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV. 

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face. 

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel. 

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest. 

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside. 

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it. 

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second. 

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager. 

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore. 

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?” 

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body. 

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like. 

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago. 

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs. 

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips. 

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features. 

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat. 

“Yeah no, I– just a second.” 

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright. 

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what. 

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of. 

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip. 

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal. 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed. 

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you. 

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books. 

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to. 

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves. 

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[shorthaltsjester]

no but i really can’t stop thinking about like. the intricacies of a sending spell. the fact that liliana tells imogen she loves her but doesn’t tell imogen she trusts her. the fact that relvin doesn’t say he loves imogen but does tell her he thinks of her often, he misses her, and he hopes she’s happy (and suspects she is, given how she was in gelvaan). and the fact that imogen is so filled with love in all the complicated and imperfect ways that she would have to be with the examples set out for her. my head is in my hands about the fact that though imogen is a homebody type, she was a wanderin’ spirit in gelvaan because gelvaan was never going to be a place she could stay with her powers and those people (as made clear by imogen’s attestation that she wouldn’t have lasted if laudna hadn’t come along) and the fact that we know relvin did in fact, to imogen’s words, do his best trying to mitigate the relationship between her and the town. even after she’d left, it’s clarified that relvin tried to limit the rumours that grew about what imogen did in her exit, despite the violence of it that imogen admits to.

there’s just something about the contrast of the two sendings that is really punching me in the chest in terms of like. something with the temults that i find especially compelling is the kind of . idealizing that can come when you have a distant parent, especially when the contrasting closer parent is obvious in their imperfection. because i think what’s compelling about the liliana and imogen dynamic is that, on both sides, what they’re each reaching for is an idea; imogen for the saviour from her dreams that told her to run and liliana for the toddler from her past that she set off to save. what’s compelling about relvin and imogen is the exact opposite; they’ve both seen too much of the other, imogen facing the realization that all children have eventually about their parent’s humanity, pushed to 11 because she can hear his thoughts. but i think the sending spells speak to the reality that, though the relvin relationship is certainly the one with the most obvious ache, it’s an ache comprised of presence and grief for an actual relationship that has devolved, versus the one with liliana which was never truly there, and is more melancholia for something they do not have.

the messages relayed between imogen and liliana literally say “i love you” but they’re also the update messages of a soldier conveying her perhaps ill-given trust to a potential turncoat. with relvin’s message, though he doesn’t say i love you, there’s a history to the relationship they have inherent in the contents of the message and the words imogen initiates it with. speaking to her father, imogen can say the words “thank you for doing your best” and feel the truth of them, but she does not extend that to her mother. and like. that’s It for me. that’s the deliciousness of relvin and liliana and imogen. that relvin stayed and was imperfect but there, and the reality is what stains and strains imogen’s relation to him now, but that liliana left and maintained the perfection of Protective Mother in imogen’s dreams, and the reality coming into conflict with the dream — where liliana is protective mother but for a daughter that’s as imagined as imogen’s dead mother was — is what both gives imogen hope and keeps her from committing entirely to any idea of who her mother actually is. the temults can be something so awful and wonderful and human and monstrous actually.