#this entire thing is SEARED into my brain SEARED i tell you

[loverboybrightsideghost]

me whenever i roll an 11 on a d20: haha nice rqg 177 reference

[alternatefandom]

That bit in Kaveh's demo where Alhaitham and Kaveh are walking side by side into the akademiya

[rodeorun]

love in the dark.

yandere pretty boyfriend x fem!reader.

cw: drugging, black-mail, non-con blowjob, degradation. Featuring @meo-eiru 's OC, Elias ❤️

MDNI.

“You better work,” Elias threatened the baby pink candle he was holding between pretty, manicured fingers.

One might even compare it to the young man himself. Long and more thin than thick, the pink wax at the tip molded into a heart shape, white wick sticking through the middle. Elias always had love on the brain, at least when it came to you. Pity he didn't have a fine white wick of logic to split his head in two, or rather, his heart. But, when you love the way he did, weren't those two practically the same thing?

He doesn't know how many hours he spent on the dark web to find this, some sort of ‘love candle.’ Whatever that bullshit meant. The description the seller left behind was short and to the point.

‘Ignite this candle in the presence of your desired person and watch them fall in love with you.’

Even Elias in all his lovesickness found it hard to believe, but it was that sickness itself that led him to purchasing the item. He hadn't gotten a gig lately so he prayed for the payment to go through, giving himself a headache for purchasing a mere candle that was six hundred and fifty dollars. God, the things he would do for you (or to you, but that's a completely different matter.)

You, the object of his affections. His sweet, sweet, sweet best friend who has saved him more times than he could count. You were entirely too good for him and he knew it.

A special knock on his door alerted him to your presence, and he knew it was you because you two had created that very knock in sophomore year of university. Long after he changed his name, you still had the heart to played with him like a child. Where others laughed at his girlish tears and overgrown sobs, you healed his inner child with every hug, every whisper, every time you'd look into his eyes and tell him, ‘it's okay, Elias. I'm here for you.’

And you always were.

No matter how bad his tantrums got, you never got sick of him. You were the only one who stayed. You practically conditioned him. How could he ever want anyone else after tasting a drop of your sweetness?

“Hi, darling!” Elias opened the door and pulled you in for a hug, kicking the door shut behind you. “Someone's mighty dressed up for a movie night in, hehe. Oooh, is this wine? Gimme gimmie!”

Taking the bag from your hands, Elias turned to put it on the table, laying a sweaty palm against his flushed cheek. Heaven, he couldn't do this much longer! Just a hug from you and a whiff of that perfume had him hardening in his yoga pants. He stayed faced away from you as he rocked side to side, subtly rubbing himself against the bottle you brought just for him. All for him.

“So, I was thinking we could start with a rom-com and then maybe a western, for variety, and after that there's a three hour long horror movie I found that-”

“Sorry, Elias.”

Glittering eyelids opened themselves.

“See, my boyfriend injured his arm in a game yesterday, so I need to go help cook for him,” you explained. Your sorry eyes seared into his back.

Ah, yes. That boyfriend of yours. Taller than Elias, bigger than Elias, handsome enough to be called a heartthrob and an athlete by profession. A real winner, that boyfriend of yours!

Elias wanted to spit on his corpse.

“Oh, your boyfriend!” He clasped his hands together and turned to face you. “The one who forgot to pick you up at the mall last week because he slept through his alarm, right? I remember him.” Elias fiddled with one of the bottles of wine now, snarling. So much for a ‘gift,’ you were just trying to buy his forgiveness.

“Yes, Eli, that boyfriend,” you chuckled. “But I forgave him for that, you know? Nobody's perfect.”

The illusion of bliss he was swept up in from hearing that sweet nickname quickly shattered.

‘Nobody's perfect.’ Elias knew that better than anyone else. Afterall, he was the last thing but, and yet you still treated him so preciously.

So, why? Why was it the very same thing he fell in love with you for, you were flaunting to just anyone? Don't you know that love isn't free? Especially not yours! How many bottles of hair dye, micro-needling appointments, collagen fillers, and waxing appointments did he go to for your love? By God he knows his deadname didn't deserve you, but didn't Elias at least earn a little bit of your attention?

How dare you, honestly. How dare you show someone else the kindness you won him over with? How dare you waltz in here just to stand him up for another man! How dare you fucking-

“Eli?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

You looked upon him tentatively, a testament to what a ticking time bomb he is. “Oh, alright, I forgive you.” He waved you off playfully and walked over to hold both of your hands in his. “But next time, I'll tie you up and keep you here forever, munchkin~”

Your laugh mingled with his. As if you thought he was joking.

“Ah, but, darling! At least have a drink with me before you go. It would be lonely to pop open a bottle by myself, hm?”

A single drink.

That's what you and Elias agreed on. One glass and you'd be on your way to that wretch. You didn't drive to get here and assured Elias that your boyfriend would drive you back home. As if.

“Oh, before we cheers,” Elias put his glass down and went to rummage for a box of matches, shaking his hips this way and that while humming in his search.

“Someone's in a good mood,” you grinned, watching him groove to imaginary music.

“Yes, with you around I always am,” he teased and returned to the table. He put the candle in the stand and lit it.

It was only a little unsettling that he watched you instead of the matches while he did so.

“That's a really cute candle, Elias. Where'd you get it?” you asked him as he sat down across from you, drink in hand.

“Oh, this old thing? It's just something I had laying around- Oh my god!”

Elias flinched as the candle suddenly exploded, letting out a small puff of wind that blew his hair back and left behind a plume of pink smog.

“Darling?! Are you- ack! You okay?” Elias wafted the air between hacking coughs until he could see your face again.

You looked shocked, as one would when a candle explodes in their face, but then you started laughing. Small titters that rang like a bell until it turned into gasps that made you grab your stomach.

“You're, hahahaha, so, so silly, Eli! Haha, where do you get these things?!”

Oh, honey. He couldn't stop loving you even if he tried.

“Oh, stop that, you! How was I supposed to know it would do that,” Elias played along, ears still tinged pink at his little blunder. You two looked at each other and then fell into joined laughter.

This light, airy feeling was a drug to him. No matter how boring he was, how flat his personality, you could always find something more in him. Something to talk about, to laugh about, to entertain him with. Something he couldn't find by himself.

It's like the universe sent you to him as if to say, ‘hey! This is the person who will make life worth living! The one who will take that mind numbing emptiness away!’

And who was he to deny the wishes of the universe?

“Worthless piece of junk,” Elias muttered when things settled down. The candle really was a sham then. “At least it smells nice,” he lit the candle again and waved the match to out it. “Anyways, I got a manicure today and the lady was way too rough with my cuticles. She should quit if that's the service she's going to give.”

He brought his nails up, inspecting the blood red polish.

He was met with silence.

“Darling?”

Your head was down, lip trapped between your teeth.

“R-Right. Well, it's pretty,” you shot him a sad kind of smile. “It's just, well, no. Hm, uh, no…I forgot, I guess?” Elias watched you scramble around until small tears dripped from your eyes. “I guess I just forgot that you see other women every day.”

His heart froze in his chest.

“And, I, I know she was just doing her job, but holding your hand while she did your nails- she did hold your hand, right? That's a little…”

You trailed off and wiped your tears, willing yourself to gather such thoughts while Elias looked on in shock.

His eyes flicked to the candle, to you, the candle, you. Always you.

“She did,” he said simply, cautiously, “hold my hand. Yes, she did.” Your face cumbled, making Elias shoot up. “But I hated it! I wished it was you! I want you to be the one holding my hand!”

“Really?” Those big, wet eyes pleaded with him. “Because, I get jealous, you know.”

Something below his belt started stirring.

“Is that so?” He hummed and pulled his chair over next to you, thumbing the tears under your eyes like you had done for him so many times before.

The light of the candle reflected in your eyes and when Elias glanced over, it had melted remarkably quickly. The leftover wax dripped onto the table but he couldn't care less.

First things first, he needed to make sure what he hypothesized was real. That this wasn't a ploy.

“You know, dear, I was very hurt when you started going out with that bastard. You hurt me, a lot. How do you think I felt?” He cooed like you were a child, soft and gentle in his palm.

“I'm so sorry, Eli. I'll break up with him, okay? I only want you! I'm really- mmph!”

Not the romantic first kiss he was dreaming of, but perfect nonetheless.

All this groveling and begging, over little ol’ him? It was too cute. He could just eat you up! But before that, it seems Elias was going to be devoured first.

“Darling? Ngh!” You were tangling your tongue with his, sucking his lips, his cheeks, his tongue, leaving little nibbles on his blushing skin. “Hold on, I need to-”

“Need to what, Eli? I need you right now,” you swallowed, “I feel like my body is on fire.”

Oh, god, the candle really did work. You were squirming on your chair, rubbing your legs together and giving him the absolute cutest puppy eyed stare. You wanted him. You wanted him.

“Yeah?” Elias said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with you, “well I think I need an apology for you cheating on me first.”

He stood up and pulled his oversized sweater up, letting you peek at the bulge growing underneath tight grey cotton.

“Oh, Eli! It's so pretty!” You weren't shy about rubbing him over his pants. “All of you is so, so pretty, baby. Can I…suck you?”

“Darling, I'm yours!” He said eagerly, the sudden onslaught of praise leaving him dizzy. “Anything you want to do, I'm yours!”

By the time you peeled down his pants and had his leaking dick positioned at your mouth, he was ready to burst. He was entirely ready to finally get his reward, but you hesitated.

“Wait, Eli. I think we should wait, um…my boyfriend. I should break up with him first.”

That goddamn candle should have come with a special feature to make you forget anyone but him all together.

Elias probably looked terrifying right now, fine features underlit by the glow of the candle, staring down at you harshly. For once, he didn't find your babbling cute. Not when every other word was your boyfriend's name. So, Elias kindly shut you up.

“There we go~” Elias cooed, thrusting his hips a little. “Ah, ah, darling. Don't run from it,” he giggled, “or I'll shove it down your fucking throat~”

You were choking on his cock, unable to pull away with how he had his fingers locked behind your head. More than you moving, it was Elias who was pumping himself in and out of your mouth, not stopping until his balls slapped against your chin every time.

“What a good little thing you are, angel. I love you so much! Hey, do you love me too? I asked if you loved me too!”

Even under the effects of the candle, you looked scared. Elias was frantic now, not only his balls hitting your chin, but his toned abdomen smashing into your face as he fucked your entire head roughly. “Dirty fucking bitch! I trusted you! I love you and you left me for dead to go date that idiot! Do you know how much that hurt me?! How much I need you?! You were supposed to me mine, all mine, just like I'm yours! You dirty, dirty f-fucking whore!” Elias let out a wet sob, spilling down your throat with his eyes screwed shut.

Heavy pants left his mouth as he stumbled back to sit on his chair, chest heaving up and down. Even through your coughing, you couldn't help but worry about him.

“Eli? A-Are you okay?”

What a wreck your voice was, no doubt you'd be feeling him in your throat for days.

“It's not all out.”

“Huh? I don't understand-”

“Lift your shirt up.” He wasn't asking.

The smooth expanse of your chest was revealed and Elias used it as extra motivation to get the last few drops of cum out, fisting his tip roughly to pull out those last thick strings. It pearled on your skin beautifully and you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out, cleaning him off properly with soft sucks that made him tremble.

“Good girl,” he sighed and eventually sat. It was like the devil was released from him. He was just Elias again, your Eli. “That was my first blowjob, you know,” he giggled cutely, like you two were mischievous kids sharing secrets in a treehouse.

Elias sighed and leaned in to hug you after lifting his pants back over his soft length. “Oh, my baby. I can't believe this worked. Had I known, I wouldn't have done this sooner. I can't believe you're finally mine,” he mumbled into your hair. “I love you, darling. And you love me too, right?”

Silence.

“Darling?”

Elias held you at shoulder length away, not wanting to let go of you completely yet. “Hey, why the tears, darling? Hehe, do you love me that much? Aw, well-”

“I'm sorry, Elias.” Your dark pupils met his.

There was no reflection from the candlelight anymore. In fact, the flame had blown out completely by now, leaving behind a sad little puddle of wax.

Your arms pushed his off as you stood up. “Shit…I- oh god, my boyfriend. What's wrong with me?! I'm sorry, Eli- I mean, Elias, um, I think the wine was a bit too strong for me. I really didn't mean to…”

What the hell was this?! Was this- did your love only last while the candle was lit?!

“What the fuck!” Elias cursed loudly, fingers gripping his silky tresses. The situation was beckoning a meltdown.

“I know, Elias, I'm so sorry, but I don't know what came over me!”

You were scared, he could see it. And he's sure part of that fear was from the ache in your throat, the names he had called you when he was at the peak of bliss. How he carried on when he was so sure you were his completely. Over what, a stupid candle? He was an idiot! He had to do damage control.

“It's…alright, darling. It's okay. Hm,” Elias hummed as he thought, standing up to pace. “It's okay. Your boyfriend is waiting for you after all, run along now. It's getting late.”

“Elias?” You weren't sure what was going on.

“Don't worry, dear,” Elias looked at you with warm eyes. “I can keep a secret. We just got a little overwhelmed, didn't we?”

He was giving you a way out, obviously. But why?

“Right,” you said, unsure.

“That's okay, we all have our moments,” Elias giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you, letting one sneak down to cup your ass. “Some more than others.”

“I don't think we should be-”

“Be what? You already swallowed my load, pumpkin. Let it dribble all down your chin and everything,” he mused, rubbing a finger against your lower lip. “Or did you want to come clean to your boyfriend?”

“No! I really don't know what happened!”

“Then it's a secret,” Elias whispered, pulling you in for a kiss. You were helpless to him, unable to pull away under the looming threat of him snitching on you. His tongue traced your lips before he pulled away.

“I won't tell if you won't, darling.”

Elias sent you off with a few more kisses and a slap on your ass, already hard again and humping you like a dog all the way to the door where you left with tears in your eyes. You were just too cute!

It wasn't much, but it was something. The only excitement Elias could offer you. Now, he had a personality.

He was your secret lover.

“Aha! How wonderful!” Elias twirled around in excitement. What an adventure!

Soon, he'd guilt your sweet soul into breaking up with that idiot and you'd be all his. He already had a foot in the door after all.

Bringing a hand to his lips, he recalled the way yours felt against his. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!

Hmm..

Elias took his phone out and sent you a quick text.

‘I think I left some lipstick on you, darling. Clean that up before you see you know who ;)’

Not even moment later, his phone rang.

“Hey, Elias?”

“Eli,” he corrected.

“Yeah, can you not-”

“Eli.”

“…Eli. Uh, can you not send texts like that, please? Just in case he sees.”

A shiver ran up Elias’ spine at the secrecy of it all. You two were bound by sin.

��Of course, darling. I'll call you tonight then.”

“I'm spending the night with him,” you said nervously. “I can't.”

“Alright then, I'll just text you,” Elias inspected his nails casually.

“But-! Ugh, fine. I'll call you later.”

“Perfect. We'll talk soon then. Make sure your camera is on, I'm still throbbing over here,” he giggled.

“I have to go now,” you whispered.

“I love you, darling.”

“Yes, he's coming so-”

“I said I love you!”

“…I love you too, Eli. Bye.”

Elias waited for you to hang up with a smile. You were already cracking under the pressure of your unwanted affair. Sure it would hurt you now, but if this didn't last long then it would be him hurting later. Surely, you wouldn't be able to deal with that, not your kind heart. After all, his beauty is something that shouldn't be marred, you said so yourself.

It was only a matter of time now.

a/n: I actually finished this over a week ago but the Elias lore kept pouring in and I was scrambling to edit to make this as canon as possible but I gave up sooooo, yeah 😃 just imagine this as eli if he actually acted on half the shit he wants to do ig lmfaooo

Also can't believe I wrote unwilling reader because Elias is literally my baby muffin snuggly pie googlie bear and i love him, but i love men suffering more ig 💗

Divider: /animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Please do not ask for part 2. Thank you!

[im-his-druidess]

The Deal

No one asked for this, but I needed something dark and gross 🤷‍♀️

TW: Dub-Con turned Non-Con; Infidelity; Cheating; Rough sex; Forced sex; Slight fuck-or-die but not really; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; Unnecessary amount of commas

Setting up the arrangement with Charlie Hewitt left a sour taste in your mouth at the way he openly leered at you the entire time, but you just kept thinking about finally going to bed with a full belly to get you through his poorly concealed innuendos and crass language. It wasn’t until you arrived at the Hewitt’s home, telling your husband you were walking to the next town for groceries as an excuse, that your plan began to crumble. The memory of Charlie’s words making fear squeeze your lungs and bile rising in your throat.

Just when you think you couldn’t feel even more worthless, here you were spreading your legs for a man that wasn’t your husband, all for the chance to get food on your table.

Your husband acted just as worthless as you currently felt and invited his parents to move into your already cramped house without discussing anything with you. Four grown adults living in a one-bedroom shack of a house, with your husband barely making enough money to feed you both let alone two more mouths, was enough to want to pull your hair out. Of course, it didn’t help that your mother-in-law found fault in every single thing you did which your husband agreed with to stay on his mother’s good side. Coupled with your in-laws living beyond their means, including gorging themselves on food that you managed to scrap together, which often left you going to bed hungry and riddled with anxiety. So, when you overheard the local gossip hounds whispering how the Hewitt family would give meat from their job at the slaughterhouse in exchange for favors, it didn’t take long for you to come to a steely resolve. It might have been the numerous days without a steady meal, or how you were belittled everyday at your home, that made you snap and jump at the chance.

‘As much as I want a piece of that pussy…I made a promise to my kin. Tommy’s birthday is coming up and it is far past time for him to become a man despite what mama says. So that’s who you’ll be fucking today. If you got a problem with that then you can fuck off.’

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it made your head spin.

Relief that you wouldn’t have to sleep with that disgusting excuse of a man making you giddy, before realization at his words struck you like white-hot lightening. You’ve only seen Tommy Hewitt once and the memory was seared into your brain.

You had come across him as he lumbered down the main road on his way home from the slaughterhouse and you were frozen in your tracks as his hulking form stalked past you. He was a large burly man, with broad shoulders, huge biceps, and thick thighs, and his dark shaggy hair didn’t hide the fact that he wore some type of leather mask on the lower part of his face.

He still wore his bloodstained apron.

You had reluctantly agreed once Charlie “sweetened” the deal by promising double the amount of food he would give. Now, here you were, propped up on a bench in the shed while listening to Charlie whisper harshly outside the door. From his tone it sounded like he was scolding someone, Tommy to be exact when you heard his slow heavy footsteps nearing the door, and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest the longer you had to wait. From the snippets you could hear it sounded like he was giving instructions and you grimaced when you heard him give vivid instructions on what to put in where.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Tommy came stumbling through the door looking exactly like you remember minus the apron. You realized his blunt appearance was because he was being pushed into the room. Charlie gave you a dirty lingering look, shaking his head with a wistful sigh, before slapping Tommy on a broad shoulder before ducking back out.

The door shut with a firm thud and then you were left alone with the behemoth.

Fear and anxiety once more rushed through you fast enough to make you lightheaded, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, and the man lingered almost awkwardly by the door. You dimly noticed that he kept his head down, stealing glances at you and your body through his curtain of hair, and you took a deep breath to gather your courage. The bench underneath you was hard and uncomfortable and you knew the sooner you got this over with the sooner you can go home and forget this entire thing.

With shaky hands you hiked up your skirt, removing your panties so they won’t get lost or ruined, and spread your legs. Your face burned in mortification at your actions, even more so when Tommy’s entire body jerked as if sucker-punched, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the way he openly stared between your legs with wide blue eyes. You fumbled with the small bottle of oil you brought with you, knowing you weren’t going to get properly wet enough to make things less painful, and you quickly waved Tommy over. He approached slowly as if you were going to bite before settling between your spread legs. With him so close you suddenly realized just how big he was, your thighs straining to accommodate the width of his hips, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a large heavy hand landed on your thigh. His skin was rough and overly warm, thick fingers digging into the meat of your thigh curiously, and you spotted his eyes darting over the rest of your body before settling back between your legs. Your nerves were starting to crumble at his slow pace so you reached down and began unbuckling his pants with trembling fingers.

His entire body tensed up and you mumbled a quiet apology, but your hands continued their work. You knew this was supposedly his first time, but you were anxious to get this over with. Tommy made a low grunting noise as he shuffled on his feet before you got his pants open and his entire body seemed to spasm when you reached into his pants to grab his dick.

You immediately paled at the sheer girth you encountered as you fingers weren’t even close to touching.

He was clearly proportionate to the rest of his body, but that also meant that he was hung like a fucking horse. You let go and fumbled with the vial of oil with a quick prayer for things to be over quickly. You ignored how he jerked his hips closer to you as if willing your hand back as he restlessly pushed his pants down with a grunt to offer you more room to touch him.

His cock stuck out just below his button-down shirt, almost drooping from the heavy weight, and the thick tip was an angry shade of red. You couldn’t help but compare him to your husband. He was larger in every single way, almost laughably so, and you had the brief thought of if you could even get that inside you. It twitched under your gaze. You looked away suddenly embarrassed and saw out of the corner of your eye his hips jerk once more towards you. You felt sweat pool at your lower back, the hot summer air doing nothing to cool you off despite being in shade, and you nervously wiped the sweat beading at your brow the back of your hand. You chided yourself and focused once more at the task at hand.

You poured a generous amount into your palm, nearly half the bottle, and steeled yourself before reaching down to coat him thoroughly. The sound he made didn’t seem human, the punched out garbled growl making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you held back your whimper of fright as he thickened even more in your grasp. You tried to not think of how you were going to struggle to take him into your body. You dropped him once he was completely coated and dumped more oil into your hand, steadfastly ignoring the way Tommy panted through his mask. You leaned back while taking a deep breath before reaching down and slathering yourself, working the oil into your cunt while simultaneously trying to stretch yourself with two fingers in preparation. It wasn’t long until you felt calloused fingers brushing against the back of your hand making you nearly shriek in surprise. You whipped your head down to see Tommy had moved closer, eyes completely transfixed between your legs, and you realized he was gripping himself with his other hand.

He was stroking himself at the same pace you were working yourself open.

Unexpectedly, heat simmered low in your pelvis at the sight and you couldn’t help but squirm in place. It was only about a minute later that you could tell he was getting restless, his hand squeezing his cock tight enough to make you wince, and you pretended to not notice him rubbing the weeping tip against your thighs. Tommy suddenly gripped your leg and spread you even further and you did whimper at the pain shooting through your hip at the unnatural position. He began grinding against your hand still buried in yourself, huffing in annoyance when he was denied entry, and you took a shuddering deep breath before moving your hand away to grip the edge of the bench.

“Go…slow, okay? Slow,” you muttered in a raspy voice and the only answer you received was the sensation of something blunt and sticky nudging at you.

He suddenly surged forward in an attempt to ram himself in, making you shriek and kick your pinned leg uselessly, but thankfully he just slid through your wet folds and brushed against your clit. He did that a few more times and was clearly growing agitated.

Even as you tried to weakly soothe him by weakly petting the hand holding you open, but that just seemed to work him up even more. Eventually the head of his cock notched at your entrance and he began to slowly push forward, seemingly learning from his mistakes, and you felt your eyes widen at the stretch. He was impossibly wide, nearly making you scream as your body attempted to reject the intrusion, but he was determined and those dark blue eyes never strayed from your straining cunt. You tried to help by shifting your hips, bracing one foot on the bench to widen your pelvis, and even stretching your other leg out to help ease the tension.

Nothing worked and you couldn’t escape the mounting pressure.

“It’s not going to work…Tommy, you have to stop. It hurts,” you pleaded, beginning to push on his thick chest while wiggling your hips away from him, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. Tommy didn’t like you pushing him away.

With a growl he pulled back, but your relief was short lived as he easily grabbed your hips and flipped you over and resumed his position. One broad palm was flat on your back between your shoulder blades, pinning you in place even as you squirmed and kicked, and you felt him trying to push in again with renewed vigor.

“Tommy, stop! I changed my mind! Get off of me!” you shrieked with growing panic only to have your shouts silenced by the feel of that fat head popping inside you.

Your eyes widened, body freezing and clenching down on reflex, and you barely had time to draw in a breath before Tommy drew back and slammed himself halfway inside you. The scream you let out was ear-piercing and your throat immediately felt shredded from the sound, but was cut off by him rearing back and slamming his hip back into you until he was eventually buried to the hilt.

His croaky moan of pleasure was covered by another scream from you.

Tears were now flowing freely down your face as you howled in pain, feeling as if you were being ripped in half, and you barely noticed Tommy’s other hand reaching down to paw at your wet cheeks as if to soothe you.

He only stayed still for a few seconds before leaning back and beginning a downright brutal pace. His hips were slamming into you with enough force to have the bench beneath you creaking ominously, your pelvis felt like it was going to shatter, and you had the stray thought that no amount of preparation would have ever prepared for you for him. Your gasping cries were short and choppy, from both his frantic pace and the hand pushing you down effectively squishing your lungs, but you still shrieked and yelped for him to stop or at least slow down to let your body adjust.

He didn’t listen.

He seemed possessed, grunting and snarling as he pounded into you mercilessly, and eventually your body went limp. You clawed helplessly against the wood beneath your cheek, blubbering incoherently, and prayed that Tommy would finish quickly. As if punishment for accepting this deal, you were granted no such reprieve.

He continued to rut into you like a mindless beast for what felt like hours, your insides swollen and throbbing as they were pummeled by his thick cock, and sweat was dripping off of him and mingling with your tears as he leaned over you to reach impossibly deeper. It wasn’t until his hips started stuttering and his thrusts turned deep and hard instead of fast and frantic that had you crying in relief at the telltale signs that he was nearing his finish. Then a horrifying realization dawned on you. Tommy wasn’t stopping. Instead it seemed he was spending longer and longer buried completely to the hilt, pressed flush against you as close as he could, and a new wave of terror-induced adrenaline washed over you.

“Not inside…Tommy don’t you fucking dare finish inside me,” you shrieked, renewing your struggles to escape him, and you grew increasingly wild as he only grunted at you.

You began writhing and attempting to twist away from him, kicking your legs and reaching back behind you to claw at his face, anything to get him away from you.

It only resulted in the hand on your back to slide up and fist painfully in your hair, nearly slamming you back onto the table hard enough for you to see black spots swimming in your vision, and his other hand grabbed your hip to further hold you in place. You continued to beg and plead for him to not come inside you, literally anywhere else but inside, but you were steadfastly ignored. His pace suddenly quickened, a low rattling whine escaping his broad chest, and you wailed as he stilled completely buried inside you. You felt his cock jerk and throb followed by a wave of scorching heat soothing your ravaged channel and you screamed in outrage and in despair. Tommy continued to grind into you, riding out his orgasm with small hurt noises escaping his throat, and by the time he was finished you were limp and shivering with shock. Realization of what all just happened rolling through your mind as fast as nausea rolled in your stomach at the feeling of wetness slipping down your thighs. Bile threatened to rise in your throat, silent tears spilling anew down your damp face, and your entire body felt both boiling hot and icy cold.

You wept quietly as he stayed buried inside you. He petted through your hair as if you were a frightened animal, his ragged breathing filling the stuffy air of the shed, and you swore you heard him cooing at you. You felt him lean down and nuzzle the back of your head as his hand moved from your hip to shyly pet over the back of your hand in some twisted form of affection after what just happened. The door suddenly swung open and you didn’t even have the energy to even twitch.

“Atta boy, Tommy! Heard that bitch caterwauling clear down the road!” Charlie shouted with clear glee and humiliation burned in your veins.

You heard the man move closer, no doubt wanting to leer at your crumpled body, but Tommy growled and moved his body more firmly on top of you. As if shielding you from view.

“Aw, what’s this, boy? You finally get your dick wet and now feel like you’re somebody special?” Charlie sneered and you felt the large body on top of you press even tighter to you.

You heard movement around you before a large item wrapped in brown paper tied with twine plopped on the table by your head.

“A deal’s a deal. Don’t be shy now. I’m sure Tommy would love to see you again,” he continued with a wheezing laugh, clearly finding the whole ordeal hilarious, and he walked back out of the shed laughing to himself.

Regret and disgust swirled in your gut at the sight of the paper bag, knowledge of what all transpired making you want to cry all over again, and you let out a small hiccupping sob. Tommy nuzzled into your hair once more, his body relaxing now that Charlie had left, and he resumed his petting. He was letting out a happy garbled sound, clearly not realizing how he had just brutalized you, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt Tommy begin to harden inside you once more.

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Let’s put it this way, I don’t remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legally🏴‍☠️, but I’m not at home and I can’t. Physically weeping as I type this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, it’s pretty late and my brain doesn’t work), minor swearing, I’m beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo. 

And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous. 

Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood. 

At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear. 

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. He’s certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever. 

Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes she’d put some on before they’d left.

“Daddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldn’t be the bulls he had to worry about.”

He loves her mom, right now she’s the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him. 

Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didn’t, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to. 

“I’m learning all sorts about you Alpine.”

“That you are, and yet you remain an enigma.”

“Aww, you don’t have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.”

They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didn’t want to get caught. 

Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when they’re together. 

But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.

“I used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.” He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. “I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in a sharing mood, what’s up with Kate and Javi?”

She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he might’ve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, she’s smiling at him. 

She’d leant away now, and he doesn’t like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his. 

Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if that’s what it takes. 

“He’s always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.”

Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for. 

Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident. 

He could do it, it’s not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.

“Maybe he’ll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, he’s terrified of rejection.”

Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder. 

Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when they’d been pressed together. 

Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she could’ve melted straight through the plastic. 

“If you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.”

She laughed - thank God she laughed - and he’s certain that he’s found something more beautiful than any tornado he’d ever chased in his entire life. 

And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest. 

“Don’t make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that Alpine. You’re too pretty to murder, can’t have the world bereft of that face now can we?”

Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind. 

Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous. 

“Were you tracking out this way?”

Looking to him nervously, she didn’t like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldn’t form anything too bad. 

Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling. 

He didn’t answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down. 

But it hadn’t, or else they would’ve gotten—

All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her. 

Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd. 

“Come on, we need to find shelter!”

It’s hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him. 

Glad he’s got her hand in his or she’s not sure how fast she could run. 

“I don’t- I don’t go into tornadoes, I do the data. I don’t go into the fucking things! I’m not you, I’m not used to this.”

He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared. 

He knew she stayed back, he didn’t know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough. 

“You’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?”

As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart. 

A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop. 

“No! No, don’t get in your car!! Get out, come here!”

They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesn’t know what’s going on. 

Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters. 

She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. It’s emptied and the wall would’ve been opened for maintenance. 

There’d be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto. 

Grabbing Tyler’s arm and shouting over everyone else. 

“Come on! We haven’t got time to argue, follow me!”

Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado. 

Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. It’s a miracle that she isn’t. 

Once the little girl was safely in her mom’s arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool. 

Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe. 

Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.

Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down. 

Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter. 

Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughter’s eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason. 

As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end. 

Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind. 

Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him. 

Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. He’d be crushed. 

She’s too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasn’t losing anyone else - not him. 

As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell. 

He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad. 

With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere. 

Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go. 

Of the pipes, anyway. She couldn’t let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself they’re still alive. 

Once they’d stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around. 

The town - the rodeo - had been decimated. 

And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself. 

They’re both alive; they’re both okay. 

He hugged her back just as tightly, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again. 

Want more?! Good!

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Met the Devil 2

lucifer x human!reader

sorry this took forever it’s been hectic i guess im in my fanfic writer era of madness happening and mentioning it in the a/n (im joking… unless) anyways lads hopefully this is okay womp womp

Part [1]

Based on devilish folklore and wives tales so lucifer may be ooc!

Warnings: BODYHORROR; DESCRIPTIONS OF TEETH FALLING OUT. Mentions of blood, reader dies a goofy ahh death, lucifer being an unsure wreck, and he’s got no game, reader is perpetually confused, inaccurate descriptions of religion, swearing, not proof read and i don’t entirely know where i’m going with this teehee lmk whatcha think xxx

word count: 3.1K

Three months, it had been three exhausting months since the incident with Lucifer. As if there was some devine intervention, everything seemed to fall at your feet working out for you, while also simultaneously sucking. Career wise, you were doing much better, after working for Marie and watching her house keeping it exactly how she wished, excluding the devil you had intercourse with, she put in a word for you at her and her husbands church, which you ended up getting.

Although not a very important role, it paid well. You were mostly in charge of cleanliness, cleaning the areas in the front where children played, keeping the holy fountain fresh, sweeping the pews and repairing any unbinded bibles. However the staff weren’t particularly fond of you, the nuns avoided you like the plague, and the priest gave you glares. Thankfully you rarely interacted with them if at all.

However, while your career was better than before, your physical health wasn’t. Things tanked once you slept with the devil. It started slow, noticing hues appear in your skin that you hadn’t before. Despite the various skin, and blood tests, and the general run down of different illnesses that cause changing pigmentation, there was no evidence to prove anything was truly wrong, just random hues of pinks, purples and blues showing up like you were some corpse.

The second minuet thing to change was your nails, at first you foolishly wondered if your calcium intake increased causing the thickness in your nails to double, but you quickly scrapped that al when your nails grew more rapidly. You really hadn’t changed much diet wise for that to be true, odd as it was it wasn’t something you hated.

The worst of it was teeth. One night you woke to a horrific splitting headache, it wasn’t just one part of your head either. The pain seared through your jaw, down your neck, up your face through your cheeks and in the back of your eyes all the way to the tip top of your head. You walked half asleep half dazed from pain to the bathroom, once the light blinded you and you got woken up a bit was when your brain registered the feeling.

Your mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood as you tuned into the sound of tapping in your mouth as the loose teeth collided. When you threw yourself over your sink spitting continuously, you immediately began to cry feeling your empty gums with your tongue, and the worst part was it seemed you had swallowed some too as the amount in the sink didn’t amount to how much was missing.

That night you must’ve passed out because you were woken up by your angry family member shouting at you to hurry. The strangest thing was, however you awoke with teeth, sharp as razors, and the porcelain sink that was never cleared of blood or teeth was now cleaned.

Since your teeth, you managed to not lose nor gain any other strange things, and the only people who didn’t seem to look past these oddities were the people who attended the church or worked at it. It was like they could tell you slept with Lucifer, something in their eyes always felt so intense and aware even if they’d never spoken to you before. The strangeness didn’t end with your appearance or career.

You had weird dreams you couldn’t explain, it felt so real but once awake you could only remember how you felt about the dream. You had close interactions with certain animals, like ducks, goats, crows, and insects as well. It was like they sought you out no matter where you were, people would give you looks when you started greeting the goat like an old friend.

So,now three months after Lucifer, you changed a lot. You know it’s because of him, you just can’t figure out why, but soon you’ll know. Walking into your work place on your day off, everybody’s least favourite thing to do, but it had to be done. You saw the father reading a bible off to the side of the room, and so you approached. He gave you a stern look, and you could tell by his stiff and shifty body language he wasn’t too happy with your presence, antsy to see what it is you wanted.

“Good afternoon father, how’re you?” You start, standing in a way you perfected prior to attempt to seem unthreatening. The priest hummed closing his bible to pay attention to you. “Good child, good. How’re you, is there something i could aid you in?” Straight to the point, mentally you cheered happy you didn’t have to waltz around small talk for fifteen minutes.

“Well i’m alright father, thank you. I was actually wondering about, um, the devil?” The priest's head lulls back slightly eyebrows raised as his mouth opens with a silent o. “Is there temptation in your life?” You shifted on your feet at the question. You hadn’t really thought of it before but you suppose you felt more inclined to act without thinking,and indulge especially after Lucifer claimed you.

“Well yes, but i was more so wondering on what the devil is capable of? Like making deals, and stuff…” You trail eyes casted away to the large sculpture of jesus on the wall. “Nothing, the devil isn’t as strong as gods love. And never in the bible does it state the devil makes deals, that is but a wives tale.” The priest spoke sternly, punctuating his words to get his point across.

This was news to you however, you always thought the devil was more of a a character in the bible. “Father one more question?” You say head snapping back to look at him. “If the devil were to have intercourse with a person, what’s said to be the outcome? Will god punish?” The poor priest looked like he’d seen a ghost, yet you couldn’t comprehend why. Although slightly morbid you didn’t think the question was that out there, perhaps it was the monotonous way you’d said it.

“I’m afraid i don’t have the answer to that,” And with that the priest stood, excusing himself from your conversation walking off down the isle. “I heard the devil picks somebody to carry the antichrist.” Turning to the voice, there sat a woman, old looking wearing a light blue dress. “The anti christ?” You repeat mostly to yourself, but the elderly woman hummed. “Yep. Woo’s the target, sleeps with them, and they give birth to the antichrist. Bad things happen once the child’s born.” The woman explained turning to look back at you.

“And, what if there’s no anti christ, what if the devil just like…” The old lady cackled looking at your puzzled face. She tsked and ushered you near. When in front of her she met your eyes, again with that weirdly all knowing look on them everyone in the church seemed to give you. Holding out her hand to you, you opened yours holding it out to her.

She placed something in your hand but you weren’t able to know what it was before you dropped it shrieking. It was like gripping a hot coal, you gripped your wrist keeled over trying to breath out the pain. Your eyes briefly glanced over to the floor where the object dropped and sitting there was a gold rosary covered in what was more than likely your blood. Peaking up from your bent over position the old woman had took several steps back from you, hand up to her mouth.

Not knowing what to do, you perked up, thanked her for her input, and sped out to the street. Just like the night you met him, the sky darkened and clashed with lightning, then came the rain. The devil himself must’ve worked through water with the way it was a constant anytime something happened.

Walking down the street at leisure, you inspected the wound the rosary left as rain pelted you like no tomorrow. You sighed brushing your thumb over the large cross shaped gash. Suddenly a crack of lightning came down brightly, it was harsh and so very bright. Then another crack, this time however you felt the harshest pain describable. It was like being lit on fire inside your body, or like your blood was suddenly filled with glass shards and you could feel them coursing through.

You couldn’t scream too in pain, you simply slumped to the floor, the searing pain engulfing your body. As your eyes closed, it felt like the floor was sucking you down, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even will your eyes to open as you felt the concrete below you begin to engulf you fully. Your lungs burnt as you couldn’t breathe, but like any other regular circumstance where you’d gasp for breath, you were physically unable to. Like you’re body didn’t know how to breath, so you sat there chest feeling tight, burning and your stomach feeling like it was forcing itself inward but nothing changed.

As torturous as it was, it was short lived and finally you felt freed. The concrete beneath you morphed into something softer cozier, the breathlessness left finally you were able to fill your lungs with air almost as refreshing as a glass of water would’ve been, and when you opened your eyes you were greeted by the sight of a bedroom. It was decorated with whites, reds and golds, around you could see engraved apples and ducks in not only the door frames and baseboards but some of the furniture as well.

You couldn’t will yourself to sit up, you still felt the fire on the inside of your body albeit gentler than before. “Hey cookie.” Cooed a smooth voice, you didn’t have to look to know who it was, but thankfully he stepped in front of you, kneeling down to your laying figure. “How you feeling?” You stared at his face, scanning it over and over, his eyes were hauntingly beautiful. The red irises danced around nervously, you watched intently as his forked tongue brushed against the dryness of his lips.

“You’re beautiful.” You mutter half muffled by the fact you sunk comfortably into the mattress that you lay on. Chuckling quietly the king of hell turned and sat on the side of the bed, petting your head very gently like you were made of glass. “Where am i?” His hand stuttered on your head, and finally you rolled over onto you back to gain the view of him. His hat discarded, his suit jacket gone, he sat only in a vest, dress shirt, and his white suit pants.

“Hell, sweetheart.” It was interesting how warmly he had said that to you, looking down at you with almost a pitying expression. “I’m dead?” You jerked up, immediately regretting it as the pain shot through your body from the top of your head down. Sucking in air through your teeth, clenching your eyes shut Lucifer cooed at you reprimanding you for being too quick. “God must’ve struck you down.” His voice lifted as he let out his attempt at a joke, but you weren’t really in the mood to laugh.

“What happened, with me when i was alive.” You ask looking over to him, the expression he had looked slightly guilty, his eyes casted downward, a frown that tried to be a poker face- but failed. “I, well y’see, heh,” Lucifer fumbled picking at his nails and looking around the room. He bounced himself against the mattress almost like he was amping himself up. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay! So y’know you got some human repellant, claws, sharp teeth, that dead look. Sent some little guardians after you! Too bad you couldn’t meet the snake.” Lucifer tisked mournfully shaking his head.

You smiled at him, oddly enough, it was quite endearing that he set out to do these things to keep you safe. “Oh!” He sprung up meeting your eyes properly. “I also made Marie get you that job, and I forced a good pay, always here to help y’know.” The king briefly pinched your cheek before retracting and standing. He looked frazzled, uncertain, he pulled at his clothes like he was trying to fix them. “Sorry it’s been awhile. Y’know i gave up going to earth in like 1850.” The devil laughed out, scratching the back of his neck.

You scooted yourself to the edge of the bed, Lucifer watching intently. “So, what, well I mean, why…?” You were confused head bobbing as you tried to make sense of everything. Things didn’t entirely add up this you were certain of, and you could tell the king was keeping something hidden from you. “As you know hell is well, it’s hell, and you were so…” He trailed off hands circling eachother as he gazed off into space, attempting to find the right words.

Deflating his body slumped over, in one foul swoop it looked as though he’d lost all the will to keep up his charade. “Look I didn’t think you were gonna shake my hand, but in the moment I was hooked on you. The night you took the apple reminded me of days of my life i can’t go back to. So i may have indulged, but i didn’t expect you to be soooo,”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you watched him with judgement, giving him a look that egged him on, yet warned him. “Captivating?” You ‘hmphed’ at his term, as weak and guilty grin overtaking his face. “Okay okay. I enjoyed our night, you gave me advice and helpful conversation I haven’t gotten in, pfft,” He was now pacing, eyes wide as his arms wrapped around himself as a way to secure him.

“Ever, you were a breath of fresh air! I didn’t expect the deal to go through! I didn’t expect you to grab my hand, so when you sold your soul you started to gain those devilish features. I wanted to make sure you were still safe so I manipulated Marie, got you the job, but nothing else was planned!” He exclaimed hands coming up in defence, although it wasn’t like you were angry, you sat there patiently watching him and waiting for him to finish his explanation at his own pace. Understanding this was probably just as stressful for him, if what he says is true.

Blowing out air the king pulled gently at his hair. “I don’t know what to do from here, I sent animals to protect you, I knew something would happen, damnit!” The short man raged eyes blowing up red, that snapped you up, gently you grabbed his shoulders. “I believe you, I have no idea what’s going on either so it’s okay! I’m terrified, but you don’t look any better. Maybe we can figure it out together?” You suggest attempting to be a voice of reason, watching his eyes hue from bright red to the yellow and red irises you’re more familiar with.

He sighed and nodded looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you think we could set some ground rules?” You quirked a brow at that, watching as he once again began to pace. “My daughter, Charlie, we spoke about her, she can’t know I made a deal with you! And for now, she can’t know i did anything sexual. Oh no no no. NO!” Lucifer panicked, switching between gripping his hair and swinging his arms around. It felt like a stab in the gut, it wasn’t your first time being a secret, but you wish you could’ve kept the promise you made to yourself about getting into another situation where you were just a secret fling.

“I’m not gonna pretend that doesn’t get under my skin slightly, I’d prefer not to be the devil's dirty secret, but I understand what Charlie means to you so I’ll do whatcha need.” Lucifer looked at you sheepishly, it seemed like he slightly regretted the choice of delivery as you crossed your arms across your chest, looking at him with a tinge of disgust in your eye. “Okay next, uh let's see, okay you’ll pose as my assistant and you’ll spend the days with me so I can keep an eye on ya….”

You quirk your head, pondering if you should say what you want to say. Which was questioning him and the motive here, it’s normal to say things you don’t always mean in such an intense moment of sex fueled emotion, but now there’s a big consequence and you’re not sure if he really knows what he wants to do. “Hey,” You say quietly grabbing him from his frantic mumbling that he was doing to himself. He hummed at you, his attention refocused on you as he did. “Do you at all regret the deal.”

Lucifers eyes blew wide, his lips puckering as his fingers fiddled with each other. “Regret is a very loaded work y’know- uh, I think- eh, maybe if- okay so,” He fumbled his wings popping out feathers flying around as they did, they puffed out with stress making you gawk. “Uhm, I wouldn't do it again if I had the choice! But still I would've wanted the sex!” Finally he pumped his chest proudly, meanwhile you rolled your eyes. “That’s what most men would do, yeah.” Your tone was bitter, catching him off guard a bit, to be fair he didn’t know what you wanted from him. Normally deals were two sided, but this one you benefited nothing from, except trauma and an early grave.

“I didn’t mean that,” Damn he really lost his way after Lilith huh, every flirtation came out so naturally but now it seemed it was so unsure, no king of a whole mini word of demons should be unsure, he mentally scolded himself for being so unfit.

“Listen can we figure this out later, I still feel the pain from when I died, so I would love to sleep that off.” You say plopping yourself back on the comfy mattress. “Yes, yes of course go ahead! We’ll figure this out together hm, shedevil? Won’t leave you in the dark!” This time his exclamation sounded certain as he jumped into the bed with you, snapping his fingers so the lights blinked out. You hummed too lazy to respond and crawled underneath the covers, it was nice, warm and smelt like him, underneath the covers you felt him slip in with you, his body heat emitting off of him in waves.

You hoped your mind was less clouded tomorrow, hopefully you could have a better conversation with the king about this deal, get things sorted out.

[ghostaholics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say – told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

[ervotica]

liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3

a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3

Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.

You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.

“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”

He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”

Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.

“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”

Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.

You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.

Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.

"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.

"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"

"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.

"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."

There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.

"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.

"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.

"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."

He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.

"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."

"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."

"I do worry about you."

You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.

"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.

"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.

"You promise to go to sleep?"

He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.

Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.

"I'm tired," you say, muffled.

"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.

And he's going to make them pay for this.

[kiwanopie]

aki threatening to make us housewives………. the way i physically gasped 😭. he’s the worst—one year as your senpai and he’s already decided you’re his.

it’s so vile too bc you want it, want him more than anything. want aki to cream your cute pussy ‘til you’re bloated. wanna hold up chunky lil babies that giggle and pull at their daddy’s topknot :((

the way i immediately opened my docs this ask sent my brain into overdrive

Glutton.

cw: car sex. breeding. dumbification. overstimulation. choking (aki wraps his hand around your neck) creampie. 1.1k

You already know he’ll name it after his little brother.

Or his mom. Whatever her name was? You’ve been chalking up ideas since he put it in your head and now it feels like you can’t remember a thing. Just your hope that if it’s a boy it’ll look like him and if it’s a girl - for her sake - she won’t have her mother’s tendency to misbehave.

You’re nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

You know, you’ve always assumed that Aki was a smart guy. I mean he’s team leader for a reason? He’s level headed in most cases, stalwart when it counts, a little demented but conscious of the things he does, and stubborn. He’d walk on a plate of fire just to prove a point - but it’s not a bad thing to stay true to your own ideals. This is a guy who keeps his promises. Every single one of them.

He’s too ticked off to put two and two together. “It’s like you like pissing me off.”

Aki’s heated breaths burn sear marks into the crook of your throat, just over the open wing of your collar and love notes left by his lips from earlier. Your brain’s too mushy to do anything but pant into the air, blowing thicker tufts of condensation that have already turned his car windows misty.

He’s fucking you like he means to turn your guts around, pistoning into your poor overstimmed cunt like it’s all he’s meant to do. Not even faltering when the acrylics of your nails tear shallow gashes into his button up - If you had the half of mind, you could even say he enjoys it.

Feeling you cling to him so desperately as he grunts in the crook of your shoulder, tighten when he curses at you. Maybe he’s too blissed out. Maybe he’s not as smart as you took him for. But you seem to be taking the repercussions of your misbehavior in stride.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Aki hisses in your ear. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve going over my head after what I told you.”

You croon when he lifts one of your legs and fastens it over his arm to get you at a better angle - a deeper angle. God, his seats are probably ruined.

You already knew you were in trouble when he offered to drive you home. You knew the look in his eyes, and you knew Makima was obviously gonna tell the guy overseeing you that you requested clearance to be contracted with a new devil, especially one so substantial. You even pulled the extra stop of shoeing in a compelling argument. ‘The life of a hunter is short anyway. Why not make it mean something?’

Like getting knocked up by your boss in the back of his Lincoln. “P-…Please forgive me, senpai! I’m- fuck, m’so sorry-“

“You might as well get used to calling me by my first name.” He grunts. “It’d be pretty fucking confusing when we start sharing my last.”

Aki lets out a broken curse when you tighten up again. “God, I can’t believe you. Were you even gonna tell me? Was I just supposed to find out when you…”

He doesn’t even finish the thought. Instead he blows out a puff of air against your pulse that makes you shutter. Lifts his head to look at you more directly and stares at you for a moment. There’s a lot of emotions behind his eyes that you’re not exactly cognizant to decipher. A way the tendons in his jaw tense - that seems less angry and more ‘something else entirely.’ But before you can zero your misty eyes on what exactly that could be, he’s already pressing his lips against yours.

A slow kiss. Not messy and unrestrained like earlier but savory. Sensuous lip smacking all the more sultry when he tilts his head to follow the current of the kiss. His loose hair falls freely over your face, lax from all the tugging you’ve been doing since he started turning your insides to bisque. But a kiss like this is the kind you give when it means something. Goosebump and butterfly inducing - You moan in his mouth and he swallows it heartily.

And then he deepens it.

That earnest passionance becomes lustful and raunchy before you can even realize he’s sucking on your tongue. Deepening his thrusts until you’re feeling him in your stomach and groaning down your throat when your fingers start to dig into his scalp. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Aki was hoping for this kind of outcome just as much as you were. Especially when he starts to angle his thrusts for the spot that has you gushing around him like he likes.

The kiss leaves a gossamer trail of his spit when he pulls back for another look at you. Your pretty doe eyes have gone teary.

“Don’t even worry about your resignation, I fired you as soon as I found out.” Aki grunts. “We’ll figure out the living arrangements later.”

Your eyes roll back when he settles for a firm grip on your throat. “I’ll have to get a bigger car. Oh fuck - And a car seat.”

You babble something that sounds like a cross between “So good!” and “I’m cumming!” but it’s more a jumbled mess of moans and overstimulated whimpers. He’s stopped counting the amount of times your pretty pussy has gone into the process of milking him for all he’s got. But even as he follows you over the edge does he continue to fuck you brainless.

Aki peers down at the mess you’re making on his leather seats. “S-Shit. Quit wasting it. I’m not stopping till I know it’ll take.”

“S’good, senpai! A-Aki-senpai! So good! It’s s’good!”

He pulls your other leg up till you're folded in a mating press, groaning at the difference in angle. “You know - mhph - You’re even cuter when you’re all fucked out like this.”

His dick twitches at the way you start to drool. “Gonna be my pretty wife? Gimme some pretty babies?”

“Sso pretty…!” You slur. “G’nna make you a daddy!”

He gives you a blitzed smile that definitely says he’s as far gone as you are. “Yeah?”

Your mouth gapes as he bends over you, much too deep with your legs hooked over his shoulders and pressing his hips flat against your ass to grind in as thoroughly as possible.

“So stupid…” Aki skims his lips over yours. “You’re stupid if you think I’m done with you after that.”

He hums as he brings you into another kiss, briefly pulling away to murmur drunkenly. “Gimme a pretty family, baby.”

1 reblog = several Hayakawa babies

[scalefeathers]

Thinking once again about how Nobuo Uematsu and Masayoshi Soken are both completely amazing composers but in completely opposite directions let me explain

Disclaimer I am not a music theorist; most of music theory is black fucking magic to me. I barely know what a chord is and the circle of fifths makes me quake as though before an Elder God. I just really like both of their works and sometimes I have thoughts about things. Also this is all just my opinion, it's fine if you don't agree, etc.

So: Uematsu is first and foremost, in my opinion, an absolute master of melody. I believe it's what makes his work so iconic and makes so many of his pieces so instantly recognizable. The Final Fantasy theme, the chocobo theme, Dancing Mad, Vamo'alla Flamenco, fucking One-Winged Angel--Just from seeing those names, you've probably got one playing in your head already. You could start humming it right now. Maybe you are already.

And it makes perfect sense when you consider the era he was working in, because back in the 8-bit and 16-bit era, the melody was all you had. When you have such a tiny amount of storage space to work with, you can really play only one, maybe two notes at a time. You can't do anything that's layered, because you only have one layer to work with. I think that's why so much video game music from that era is so memorable and iconic. It's not just because you played so much Street Fighter II when you were a kid that the music is indelibly seared into your brain (though that probably doesn't hurt); it's also because Yoko Shimomura wrote really solid melodies that had nothing else competing for your aural attention (apart from the in-game sound effects, which are probably also seared into your memory). (Yoko Shimomura, btw, also composed the music for Final Fantasy XV, the entire Kingdom Hearts series, and like 50 other games over the past 40 years, another fucking icon).

But back to Uematsu: like I said, melodic genius. Even when his work is upscaled into full orchestral arrangements, that core melody is always front and center. And his affinity for melody makes even more sense when you consider that before he got into video game composing, he was writing commercial jingles. (Younger folks may not be aware, but there was a time when practically every product had to have its own theme song, and the best ones were short, snappy, and instantly memorable--and for that, again, you need a strong, simple melody. Ba da ba ba ba, I'm lovin' it.)

Compare: Soken. Soken only started at Square 12 years after Uematsu, which isn't that long in human terms (to me at least, cos I'm old), but it is a long fuckin' time in video game years. By the time he started composing for games, there was so much more you could do with game music in terms of layering, complexity, and sound, and you can tell from his work that he takes full advantage of that. His work is complex and dense, a rich layer cake of themes and motifs, all beautifully merging and weaving together, often to extraordinary effect.

And again, if you look at his pre-music career, it makes a lot of sense that he'd have that approach to music, because he first got into the games industry as a sound designer; I believe that he is the sound director for all the FFXIV expansions, as well as being the composer. So of course he'd be very aware of not just how a sound (or piece of music) works on its own, but of how it fits into the greater whole, and of how to layer and balance lots of different sounds to create something greater than the sum of its parts. And of course it makes sense that he'd bring that approach to his compositions as well.

As a consequence of this approach, though, his music often lacks the memorable melodies that characterize Uematsu's work. Like, I ground (grinded?) Dun Scaith a lot the last time it was on the Mogstone rotation, I know all the boss themes extremely well and can recognize each of them instantly. But if you asked me right now to hum one? I don't think I could. (This isn't a deficiency, to be clear; music doesn't need a prominent core melody in order to be good.)

And that's also not to say that all his music lacks iconic melodies. His vocal tracks, pretty much by definition, have to put a single melody front and center; and then on top of that (or rather, behind it), you have all that trademark Soken richness and depth. Which is probably also why his vocal tracks go so fucking hard.

I think that's also why, out of all the expansions, I like Heavensward's music the best. Most of Heavensward's score is written by Soken, but the main theme is Uematsu's, and you may notice it's basically a tasting menu of like 5 or 6 excellent, very recognizable melodies, one right after the other. And basically every piece on the Heavensward soundtrack incorporates one or more of these melodies. So it really does give you the best of both worlds, and gives the overall score a cohesion that I don't see as much with the other expansions.

TL;DR, Uematsu and Soken are both amazing composers with very different and complimentary styles that reflect their differing backgrounds and the different eras of games in which they have worked and I just think that's neat.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 20

An: Not sure how to start this haha. Hi. It's been over a year but here we are. If you're an old reader, thank you for your patience and for deciding to come back.

Word count: 2410

As the shadow’s grip tightens around my wrist, it feels like a match is struck within me and lit alight with fear. It burns hot within my chest, searing the flesh attached to my bones, causing my entire body to tense. Yet the fear and the pain don’t cause me to shut down. Something has fundamentally changed in me throughout these last strange and inconceivable weeks.

When he leans over me, it’s like the match has lit up his mask, allowing me to see every movement and intention in complete darkness. My fear no longer shuts me down. I feel more awake than ever. More infuriated than ever.

But I’ll be damned if he finds out.  

“Miss me?” his voice is just as vile as it was last time.

I bite my tongue. Speaking now would only give him more reason to do harm.

“Probably not as much as you miss Suds though,” His strong grip yanks me upward into a sitting position. The tightness of his fingers twisting around my wrist painfully pinches my skin. I don’t dare utter a single sound. “Hey? Cause you haven’t been with him all week. Which begs the question: What the hell have you gotten up to, Birdie?”

“Nothing,” I mutter through bared teeth. “When I’m not in Captain Price’s office, the Lieutenant locks me in here.

“So Ghost babysits when Suds is gone. Eh? What’s he like?”

Bennet’s question throws me off guard. What’s he like? Of all the things to talk about, this is what he wants to focus on? Not the trade-off or Price’s supposed secret plans or the Ultranationalists or their impending betrayal. Just Ghost.

There has to be more to his words.

“Quiet,” you can smell the uneasiness on my breath. It carries my words and hangs pungent in the damp air.

“Wanna know something about Ghost?” he asks. My stomach turns. Of course, I do. But he’s counting on that. He wants to know just how interested I am in the Lieutenant. I also know that whatever he’s about to tell me probably isn’t true. He wants to drive a bigger wedge between myself and 141 so my loyalty remains with my father. Except I’ll never be loyal to my father.

I shrug my shoulders in response. I don’t know if he sees or if he cares, but I do know he wants to scare me.

“He tried to kidnap your mother before settling for you,” Bennet’s words taste like the bile rising up the back of my throat. Sour and acidic. Like expired milk. “Do you really think they would stop with you? They’ll never stop. Not until your family – our family is torn to shreds.”

I should have known. I want to feel shocked, but there’s a mental block in my brain stopping me. I. Should. Have. Known.

“Our family?” my voice wavers.

“Yes,” he hisses. “Our family. What? Do you think Ultranationalism is just a movement? It is so much more than that. We are so much more.”

“How come they didn’t get her?” I dare to ask him the question buzzing around in my mind. The hidden bug slips my mind. Our ears are far from the only ones present. Ghost at the very least will be listening. Maybe Soap. Maybe Price. Maybe some higher-up that I’ve never heard of. Nothing in this room is a secret.

Who’s to say it’s true anyway?

Yet, who’s to say it’s not? Sure, the Ultranationalists are liars. So is 141. So is Ghost. Of all the people here, he has kept the most from me.

Truth out here has a different meaning. Every single one of their moral compasses has been skewed by war’s magnetism. Even the men who are objectively fighting for peace and democracy are not on the moral high ground they believe themselves to be. None of their hands are clean. Especially Ghost.

“Our team intercepted last minute. Captured their crew. By the time we discovered their plan to take you too, we were already too late. Little Bird, this was never about you. Your father wants you to know that,” his grip on my wrist releases as he leans back, off the bed.

“Does he forgive me?” my throat tightens as the question barely escapes as a whisper.

“He’s working on it, the shadow’s words are swallowed by the darkness. “But he needs your help. We need to know what angle Price will take,”

“I’m not allowed in the room when they discuss that stuff. They don’t trust me.”

“You must’ve picked up on something,” he urges.

I pause for a moment and think. Of all the different conversations I’ve witnessed, surely something must stand out. Something that is safe to share and won’t hurt 141.

“I mean I don’t think they actually intend on going through with the exchange,” I start. However, this isn’t new to him. Neither side plans on cooperating with the other. It’s a recipe for disaster. “They don’t want my father dead. They need him alive for intel on my uncles. But I also think they might be moving on. Price and Ghost discussed intercepting other families. I think the same way they did with me,” it’s better if he thinks I’m clueless. So much has changed since that conversation. They aren’t moving on any time soon. Not when they’re so close.

“Do you believe them?” his question isn’t inherently strange. It’s the fact that he’s asking my opinion that catches me off guard. Does he genuinely want my input? Does this mean I’ve gained his trust? Not likely.

“I don’t know,” my chest is tight. “Well,” I change my answer. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You shouldn’t,” he starts to slowly pace the room. His mind is racing. There’s so much that needs to be done in so little time. If only I had just an inch of the rope, they’re tying my noose with. Then at least I’d know what tree they planning on hanging me from. “You’re expendable to them,” Bennet turns toward the bed again.  

“And not to you?”

“To me?” his tone quickly turns to something akin to amusement. “No, you’re quite expendable to me. But your father? He sees you as part of our cause.”

“He never brought it up before,” the curious part of me always wins. I have to know. Something. Anything. Even if it's completely fabricated.

“After everything, do you think he’d still lie to you?” the shadow stills and his eyes turn to slits.

“I- no,” we both know it’s a trick question.

“He said your wings will take you far and high, little bird,” for a moment, I almost hear the words in his voice. They sound like something he’d say when I was young. Like stories from lost times.

“But if it was up to you, I’d be dead already,” I shift back to our previous topic.

“Of course,” he says like it is obvious. “But if you stick with 141, they’ll do it for me. You’re useless to them after the exchange. Nothing more than collateral. Even you, are smart enough to know that,” am I though? Hasn’t some hopeful part of me genuinely believed I might actually survive this mess?

“It’s crossed my mind,” my sullen voice lags with a false sense of exhaustion. Yet, I feel more alert than ever.

“Well let it cross again. Into our territory. With your family,” a deep, raspy sigh escapes his chest as he takes a step back from the bed. In the silence of the night, I can hear his scarred lungs rattle like an old pickup on its last leg. But he’s got ‘miles to go and promises to keep’. This shadow isn’t the kind of man to go back on his word. There’s a reason he’s made it to where he is today. “Think about it,” he says as his hand silently wraps around the metal handle.

The door opens and shuts without a sound. When he slips into the darkness, I know this will be the last of our witching-hour meetings. His words haunt me like the last wishes of a lost soul. There’s more truth to them than I’m brave enough to admit.

I almost mistake the soft raps against the door as one of those spirits. Haunted? Maybe. Spirits? Only of the men who’ve died at his hands. Only in the sense that his name brushes across soldiers’ lips like a curse: If you see him, you’re dead.

The knock was just a courtesy. A warning. Ghost enters the room with a large hunting knife in hand. The matt carbon blade is almost impossible to spot in the night. It’s the way his sleeved arm is held at his chest – ready to strike – that gives him away.

Just as one shadow leaves, another appears. Dressed in all black and moving as silent as an unspoken thought. The intensity of his eyes burns as they bore into holes through the darkness.

He knows Bennet is gone. That doesn’t stop him from clearing the room anyway. He reaches under the desk, pulls out the bug, and twists it apart, rendering it dysfunctional. The tiny pieces are slipped into his pocket.

No one can know he’s here.

The words he’s about to speak should never meet the air.

I haven’t had any time to process what just happened and now he’s appeared within moments to remedy an undiagnosed illness.

It feels pre-emptive. Like he knew this was going to come up. Like he’s planned for it.

“Are you okay?” His thick English accent slowly fills the space.

I’m not interested in small talk. I need to know the legitimacy behind the shadow’s words.

“How much did you hear?” I ask. The adrenaline is running low in my veins. I feel the shakes approaching behind me like an unwanted guest at a house party. Creeping and on the verge of cutting into our conversation.

“All of it,” Ghost crosses the room to my bed. He hovers at the edge with his fists clenched at his sides. His trigger finger twitches, expecting confrontation. I stand from my seated position, but he still towers over me.

“Is it true? Did you try to take my mom?” this conversation feels borderline repetitive of everything that went down in the cabin. Every time I think all the details are out in the open and he’s finally being honest with me, I’m proven wrong.

And every time, the Ultranationalists pick at my healing scabs, causing streaks of blood to smear across my fragile skin. It’s an ugly look. One that lacks patience and self-control.

“Affirmative,” the resignation in his voice is concrete. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide it. What else is he leaving out?

“You’re a fucking asshole,” the bitter words fire in his direction. I feel stupid. I feel played. As though they’re all still treating me like a child.

“Y/N,” he quietly warns. His voice refuses to move above a whisper. Who knows what ears are listening outside that door.

“No. Fuck you,” I point at him with a quivering hand. “You’ve had days – no – weeks to tell me this. Why didn’t you say anything, Simon?”

“It was classified,” he automatically responds.

“You’re so full of it,” I cross my arms and fist my hands. I’d be smart to shut my mouth for the rest of my time here. I’d be smart to do a lot of things differently than I have. Yet that’s not an option. “What else are you keeping from me?”

A deep sigh pushes through the black ski mask. One that’s no longer worried, but hinting at frustration. The pause before he speaks is long and filled with words that’ll never see the light of day. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“You can,” I urge.

“I can’t. That’s the nature of my job – of my life, y/n,” I can feel the heat of his chest as he steps closer. “There will always be secrets. The things I know are worth killing over.”

“But if it’s about me, I deserve to know,” I push harder. Surely, he has to understand where I’m coming from.

“Just drop it,” the coldness to his voice is usually reserved for lower-ranking soldiers. I feel it nip at my skin and travel through my bones in an unnerving kind of way. Yet I can’t drop it. Not when it’s my life at stake.

“You can’t come here and expect me to ‘just drop it’ Simon. You came here. I didn’t ask for help,” the annoyance is audible in my voice. “I deserve to know. What is it? Do they really plan on killing me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. Ok. So that much is the truth. At least to him.

“What, then?” my brows furrow as my chest impatiently heaves. Why did he bother showing up if all he’s going to do is shut me out?

Simon reaches for a strand of hair, but I duck away from his grasp. The gloved hand falters, before falling back at his side. I know I’ve struck a nerve when his shoulders stiffen and the heel of his boot shifts half an inch back.

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” the rejection turns his voice stoic. “Goodnight y/n.”

As Ghost turns and heads for the door, he tightly grasps the knife at his side. I consider biting my tongue, but that’s never something I’ve excelled at. “Leaving me in the dark is far from keeping me safe.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Simon looks back as he grasps the handle. There’s a glint so faint it’s almost hard to spot behind his eyes. For a moment he almost doesn’t look real. “You’re safer hidden in the shadows. There’s no going back once you’re exposed to the light.”

He doesn’t wait for my response. I don’t have one to give.

As Ghost leaves the room, I’m left with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

It fades for a while as the hours drag and I drift into a strange type of sleep. Yet, the feeling returns when my door opens in the morning. When I see his face I know today is the day. They can’t afford to wait any longer. The Ultranationalists are ready. 141 is ready.

It isn’t Soap or Ghost or some other foot soldier who’s come to retrieve me: it’s Captain Price.

[lyriumcoloredskies]

Overdrive ft. (Law, Sanji, Zoro, Kid, Nami)

Pairing: Multi-character pairings ft. Law x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Kid x Reader, Nami x Reader WC: 1.2k Summary: Things that drive the OP characters wild. CW: 18+ MDNI Suggestive but no smut, teasing, mild not very descriptive violence in Kid's, food and eating mention in Sanji's, swearing, reader is described with breasts, no beta. AN: I've gotten way sicker and I feel like a small sickly victorian child, hoping that the country air will help my ailment. D:

Trafalgar D. Water Law

"Let me whisper in your ear, tell you something you might like to hear"

It’s been hours since Law decided to hole up in his office, sinking all his attention into a thick medical textbook. He’s halfway through a page when he feels a pair of soft warm lips press onto his neck. Instantly he feels his body erupt into gooseflesh.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels your warm hands make their way across his sides, lifting his shirt, before caressing his bare chest. Your lips work their way up his neck, stamping his skin with searing hot kisses, the slight smacking noise sending tingles down the base of his spine. As you grow closer to his ear, Law can hear your soft breathing, the sound going straight to his groin. Law stifles a moan that threatens to escape his lips as your feverish tongue makes contact with his ear lobe, slowly trailing its way up the shell of his ear. The obscene wet noises near his ear sends static through his brain, down his spine, and straight to his cock which continues to grow hard at your teasing.  “How about you take a break?” you whisper before pinching his left nipple with one of your roaming hands, the other finding its way down his happy trail. Law quickly realizes he has no choice but to oblige.

Vinsmoke Sanji

"With the taste of a poison paradise, I'm addicted to you"

For the last few weeks, dinner has proven to be a difficult time for Sanji. It isn’t because he’s hit a creative slump with recipes or because he has to fight off a hungry Luffy from sneaking snacks. His troubles all stem from a certain other crew member – you. Sanji’s grip on his cutlery tightens as you let out a practically pornographic moan the moment a bite of his Poulet a la Provencal hits your tongue. You let out a few more obscene noises as you chew. Sanji swears the room is spinning. “Sanji~ this tastes divine, the chicken is so moist! And this sauce is just orgasmic~” you sigh out before dipping your finger in said sauce. Sanji nearly drops his fork as he watches your pink tongue dart out to lick off some of the sauce from the digit before you suckle it clean. Sanji thickly swallows at the sight, “A-ah thank you for the compliment y/n-swan!”. You let out a giggle before returning your attention back to your plate. Sanji is suddenly aware of how hot the room is and how tight his pants feel. Sanji tries to compose himself, taking a few deep breaths before returning to his own plate in front of him. He gets a few bites in before he nearly chokes on a piece of chicken when he feels a roaming foot caressing his inner thigh, he looks up only to catch your seductive gaze, a teasing smile plastered on your lips. Dinner would be another torturous affair.

Roronoa Zoro

"Girl you look so good, won't you back that ass up?"

Zoro loses count of his reps for the third time this workout. It’s been this way for the last few months. He would start his workouts with the full intent of giving everything he had, only for his eyes to wander, watching as the sweat traces a path down your body. Today was no different. His eyes graze over the curves of your butt as you work on your squats in front of him. Your muscles shake in effort as you let out several loud breaths. The entire thing turns Zoro on, his grey sweatpants no longer doing a good job at hiding his erection. He watches for a few more moments, carefully palming his length over his sweatpants. That’s when he sees you stutter a little bit in your last set. His body moves instinctively, stepping closer to you, your body only a few inches from pressing into his as he hovers his arms near the barbell bar. “Here, let me spot you” Zoro grumbles out. You give him a nod, adjusting your stance and grip. Zoro dutifully watches as you go in for another squat, only for your tight ass to brush Zoro’s erection as you went down and came back up. The pressure causes a filthy moan to rip out of Zoro’s mouth. In his embarrassment he can see you look back at him, a knowing smirk on your face. He had fallen right into your trap.

Eustass Kid

"She's hatin' 'cause I'm up and you can tell on her face"

Kid sits sprawled out in a booth with Killer on his right. His crew sits around him, everyone occupying nearby tables with a plethora of drinks flowing between them. He’s only half paying attention to Killer before their conversation is interrupted by a woman sliding up on his left side. He doesn’t bother to pay her any attention as she presses her hand to his chest and whispers in his ear asking if he would like some company. He waits patiently, secretly growing excited for what was to come. That’s when he hears you slam two mugs of beer on the table, liquid sloshing out everywhere. You were back from your run to the bartender. “Get the fuck off of my man you fucking whore!” you snarl out as you reach for the woman, grabbing her by the hair as you rip her off of Kid. There it was. Kid feels the first rush of blood to his cock as the atmosphere becomes fueled by adrenaline. The woman screams obscenities at you, flailing helplessly, while the crew eggs you on by yelling out vulgar encouragement. The whole scene turns him on, and he soon finds himself rock hard as he watches you throw the woman out the bar door. Your face is thunderous as you stomp back, gnashing out the crudest angry words at the woman’s gall. You don’t skip a beat as you down whatever was left in both the beer mugs before sliding into your rightful spot next to him, smashing your lips into his in a forceful hungry kiss. Fuck, Kid loved when you got possessive.

Nami

"I'm the First Lady of Juicy Couture, got a little cash now so the skirt is Dior"

Nami’s smile hasn’t left her face since she ushered you into the women’s dormitory, her arms overflowing with her latest clothing haul. “Y/n-chan~ you have to try these on! I picked them out just for you!” she says, pushing the bags into your arms. She relishes in the way heat takes over your cheeks as your eyes widen at the amount of shopping bags, clearly flattered at Nami's generous gesture. Despite your bashful look, you don’t say no to Nami’s demands, quickly stepping behind the changing screen in the corner of the room. Nami’s eyes trace over your shadowed figure behind the screen as you peel off every bit of your clothing, heat rushes to her core. “N-Nami? A-are you sure you handed me the right bag?” you ask, your voice full of anxiety. Nami is patient, flooding you with words of encouragement. She’s rewarded when you step out from the screen. Your body barely covered by the most vulgar bikini money could buy. Nami’s eyes greedily soak up the sight of your breasts, spilling out over the small triangle top, your hard nipples barely covered. You’re so cute as you fidget in the bikini, your face red in embarrassment. “D-does it look g-good Nami?” “Hmm it looks okay, but I bet it looks better on the floor.” One outfit down, 26 more to go.

[rachalixie]

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful jade @tasteleeknow my heart my soul my shared brain cell i love you dearly i hope you have the absolute best day <3

you wake up to the sun for the first time in a while, no alarm there to jolt you from whatever rest your body catches onto for the night. your senses come to you one by one, the warmth of the sunlight peeking through the blinds, the softness of your duvet, the sound of pans and pattering feet eching softly from outside, creating a disjointed melody you would never get tired of hearing. it’s a song you’re used to in the mornings, but somehow it feels more special, more personal, today.

you take your time stretching yourself awake, brushing your teeth, taming your wild bed-mussed hair into something presentable before exiting your room. you’re immediately attacked with a wall of delicious scent, and you find yourself gaping before you even take a glance at the magnificent (and somewhat unnecessary, given that there’s only two of you) spread of food he’s presented on the table. and him, wearing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt whose sleeves are too long for his arms and he has to keep pushing them back to have his hands free.

his eyes find yours almost immediately as he turns around, leaving behind the plate he was adjusting for the fifth time, like he can sense your presence in the room even though you’ve made no sound. there’s tiny galaxies swimming in his irises as he takes you in, the fondness clear as day through his wide smile.

“happy birthday, mine,” he croons, bouncing over to wrap strong arms around your entire body, trapping your arms against you as he practically lifts you up in his death squeeze. you blame that on the way your breath is taken away, but you know deep down that getting to see him in the morning does it to you every day, whether it’s waking up to him sleeping next to you or seeing him drowsy and squinty eyed as he makes coffee for both of you.

and the name he calls you, mine. a blatant display of his possessiveness for you, proof that he feels just as strongly for you as you do him, four letters that never fail to make your heart sing.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“of course i did,” he says, voice strong and adamant with a twist of shyness. “it’s for you. even this is not enough.”

and that’s it, isn’t it? his gentle love language, the way he pours his love into the things he does for you, in the ways he can’t explain with his words because he doesn’t know how. the way he presents you with things and massages and hugs, almost expecting rejection and lighting up when you do anything but that. hiding his pleased expression with sarcastic quips that you can see right through. you want to tell him that he could have presented you with a soggy piece of bread and you would still feel this way, special and important and loved.

you raise your hands to cup his cheeks instead, your language for him, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs. his big eyes shine at you as if he’s looking at the sun, straight on and unblinking like he knows he might go blind but he doesn’t care one bit. he turns his head in your hands to press a kiss to one palm reverently, then the other, the only gift you want or need from him given so early in the day (although, you’ve seen the wrapped box he poorly hid in your shared closet days ago and chose to ignore it for his sake).

he leads you to the table, helping you sit before taking the seat next to you and serving you a heaping plate. you reach for your fork, but he stops you, taking his own and holding a bite out for you instead. you raise a brow at him as if to say really? but he just holds your gaze and tips the fork closer to your mouth. you let him feed you with a roll of the eyes and hold back a moan of appreciation when the pancake almost melts in your mouth, the tang of a blueberry complimenting the syrup he generously drizzled on top.

he’s smiling at you knowingly and you know you’re blushing, but you ignore him in favor of opening your mouth up for another bite, letting him take care of you.

it is your birthday, after all.

—

soft hours

[booksandabeer]

Stucky Recs: Road Trips!

Well, well, well. Look at that! After only three months of constant whining about having no time to do it, I've finally managed to put together a new rec list! Yay.

The theme of this list was requested by multiple people and really, who doesn't love a good road trip story, right? And let me tell you, there are so many good ones, this post could've been twice as long. I'm actually already hoarding fics in my little folder to do a part two later this year.

But for now, please enjoy my effusive ramblings about the following 10 Road Trip fics + 1 Rail Trip fic:

🚗 you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all by biblionerd07 | T, 15K

Author's summary: Steve and Bucky aren't really much of a Steve and Bucky anymore these days. Steve's sure it's because Bucky doesn't see himself as the same guy who used to love Steve. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, Steve begs Bucky to go on a road trip together, the way they used to dream about, and does his best to remind Bucky of who he is.

A post-CW canon divergent fic that's in a lot of ways very soft, but with just enough of an edge to keep things interesting and the reader uncertain as to how everything will play out in it. This starts with a somewhat disaffected Bucky who has not (yet) regained all of his memories and a Steve who, in his desperation to reconnect with him, tries so hard but ends up saying and doing all the wrong things. As they travel around the country, they both find ways to let go and to unlearn and relearn each other. Features moments of heart melting yet tongue-in-cheek sappiness (so the absolute best kind of sappiness) and a fun background Sam/T'Challa pairing.

🚗 a black sky prickled with small lights by emilywithoutY | M, 26K

Author's summary: There's this: The July heat. A wide open road. An obnoxious country song on the radio. Bucky in the driver’s seat.

Or: Two hundred-year-old men and their Great American Road Trip

The ultimate, unashamed Steve-and-Bucky-visit-the-Grand-Canyon wish-fulfillment fantasy—and I mean that in the best possible way. The summer road trip vibes are impeccable. This is technically the third part in the Litanies series, but it absolutely works as a standalone. However, if you ask me whether you should read the entire series, the answer is obviously a resounding yes. It's not only one of the best EG-Fix-Its I've read but also comes with an additional fun and sexy twist on how to get these two to finally get their heads out of their asses. Anyway, in this installment, they have already done that and now they get to enjoy the road, their freedom, and most of all, each other. Includes: healing along the way, long overdue conversations, and the attempt to reconcile the joy of finally having all that time with the bittersweet reality of having all that time.

🚗 Blue Moon by what_alchemy | E, 15K

Author's summary: "Now are you gonna run away with me or not, Rogers?”

God, this story (this author, really)! I’ve read this fic so many times I’ve lost count. It features one of my favorite post-WS characterizations of Bucky. One where he's still—somehow after everything—a romantic at heart, but also clear-eyed and unsentimental enough about certain things to not shy away from laying out some uncomfortable truths for Steve and the reader alike (there’s one line in particular that is seared into my brain and every time I read it I personally feel so called out). Steve may be a bit more cautious and softer about it, but oh, he gives back just as good. Nobody is handling anyone with kid gloves here. A story about learning how to be together (again), defining one's very own version of 'Happy Ever After', and about being very much in love, and also very horny for each other.

🚗 Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) by dorian_burberrycanary | E, 20K

Author's summary: Steve has never felt right running away from a fight, even if the fight is with unanswered questions. But it’s not running if it’s a road trip and the oldest, thorniest unanswered question is along for the ride.

If you follow my blog you will probably already know that I am head over heels in love with this entire EG-Fix-It Series. This third story is finished, but Steve & Bucky's road trip continues in part 4, which is currently being posted (updates weekly). I believe this fic can be read as a standalone but, really, why would you deprive yourself of even a single word of this absolutely magnificent series? Every word, every detail, every narrative choice feels deliberate and well thought out. It's a masterclass in subtle storytelling and yet so rich in its themes, characterizations and descriptions of people, places, and food. This fic will make you hungry in so many different ways. A lot happens between the lines which may require some patience at times, but when the emotional payoff hits—it really, really hits. I cannot recommend this enough. Spectacular all around.

🚗 where the days are longer by endofadream | E, 13K

Author's summary: And maybe that’s what they’re running from. Those ghosts. That minefield. The suffocating pressure to live up to who they used to be when who they used to be has now become stale, recycled words in textbooks and museums and clickbait online articles.

They fuck off to the coast, trying to put as many miles between them and D.C. as possible. New York is loud and claustrophobic at the best of times, but California has the open skies and roads that make Steve ease a little more into his skin.

I have such an immense fondness for this story. There are some very minor problems with shifting POV in the first chapter, but please don't let this deter you from giving this story a chance—it's got so much heart. This is a slow and meandering piece that can be best summed up as: Steve and Bucky being so very much in love. Set in some undefined period post-CATWS, in a world where the events of Civil War never happened, Steve and Bucky decide they’re tired of fighting and conforming to what everyone else wants them to be and just get in a car and drive all the way to California. There, they start figuring out how to live in the future while also accepting that they can never quite leave the past behind, and that time, indifferent to the tragedies of (not quite) mortal men, will inevitably keep marching on—whether they want it to or not. To quote directly from the story itself: They’re both men out of time, so they make their own.

🚗 Lightning in a Bottle by odetteandodile | E, 63K

Author's summary: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking.The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction…

Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride. It gets more complicated from there. 

This AU offers an intriguing twist on the The Road Trip as a genre, Shrunkyclunks as a trope, and modern!Bucky as a character—it's an electric ride from start to finish—in more ways than one… *wiggles eyebrows* ...yeah ok, I’ll see myself out. It was either this or something about 'chasing all kinds of storms together' and I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, this story is a clever and unique take on canon events (not just limited to the CA movies!) and I don’t really want to give too much away and spoil all the fun, so I’ll just say this: If you are in the mood for a thrilling sci-fi/adventure/romance hybrid-story with beautiful evocative writing, characters that actually act like the smart, competent grown-ups they supposedly are, sex scenes that are both hot and emotional, and a touch of spy/mission fic to go along with a free crash course in weather phenomena—this is the fic for you!  

🚗 The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet | E, 39K

Author's summary: Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

And before Steve can protest, Bucky gives him that broad, toothy grin again. The worry pitted in his stomach ebbs, and he decides—what the hell? Why not? Steve pulls his helmet on and swings a leg over the bike. Bucky settles in behind him, and he cranks the engine to life.

A Post-CATWS fic, in which Bucky has returned to Steve after being on the run for a while. They are together, share an apartment in Brooklyn, and Bucky has regained most of his memories—so yay! All good, right? Well, things are going…uh...let's say they're going. See, Steve and Bucky are still very much in love—the thing is, they're pretty good at the being in love part but pretty awful at the talking about it (and everything else that matters) part. So much so that they accidentally on purpose non-communicate and out-stubborn each other into going on a road trip, where things will eventually—inevitably—come to a head. Throughout the trip, the tension between them builds and builds until finally they have to admit that sometimes being partners, lovers, best friends, and knowing someone better than anybody else in the world, still doesn't mean that you can *actually* read their mind. Sometimes you gotta use your words. The author skillfully manages to create a story that treats its characters and their conflict seriously, while also infusing it with a healthy dose of humor and romance to always keep the readers on the right side of 'frustrated' (i. e. invested, not irritated).

🚗 old college try by kafkian | E, 19K

Author's summary: Bucky wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling like stealing: Steve Rogers, Captain America, the hope of a nation tucked into Bucky’s right hand. It’s the heist of the century.

In which Bucky Barnes remembers himself, Steve, and what it means to be selfish – not necessarily in that order.

Another old favorite of mine. Set post-CACW, this fic starts with a recently defrosted Bucky and a somewhat unmoored Steve in Wakanda, as they try to figure out what to do next: Keep fighting the never-ending wars of other people or run away, see the world, and retire to a quiet life? Well, since this is a road trip fic, I think you can guess which option they go for. It's a beautifully written story about Steve and Bucky's journey across continents and decades, and their ultimate arrival in a life that they never dared to hope they could have one day. This was written in 2016, so right between the fanfic avalanche caused by TWS and the frenzy of EG-Fix-Its. Re-reading this for the first time in quite a while made me realize that—aside from being a fantastic story in its own right—it's also an interesting commentary on popular Stucky fics that came before it (you can see clear influences but also some gentle rebuttals to popular fanon of the time) as well as very much a product of its time. And I don't mean that in a negative or disrespectful way at all, but simply, that it also serves as a fandom artifact; a text that reveals and reacts to certain trends, shifting attitudes, and developments in Stucky fanfiction over the years. Either way it's definitely well worth a read.

🚗 The Long Way: A Stucky Fancomic by BeaArthurPendragon, LittleWolf82 | T

Authors' summary: After Thanos is defeated, Steve doesn't stay in the past. This is the story of where he and Bucky go next.

A little something different here: a road trip fancomic! And oh, it's only one of my favorite fic writers teaming up with one of my favorite artists—what's not to love? This is an EG-Fix-It that simply ignores the last five minutes that Ruined It All and instead tells the story of what could've or should've happened to Steve and Bucky after EG. A story that is infinitely kinder and truer to these characters. Sweetly told and beautifully drawn—an absolutely wonderful collaboration.

🚗 i need a forest fire by tomorrowsrain | T, 65K

Author's summary: In which Tony Stark makes a reckless decision, becomes a wanted fugitive, goes on the run with the former Winter Soldier, and learns how to forgive. For his part, Bucky Barnes is just trying to hold himself together. AU, post-Civil War.

This is the only fic on this rec list that does not have Bucky and Steve going on a journey but instead it's Bucky and...Tony. WAIT! Hey, come back! I know that for a lot of Steve and/or Bucky fans the idea of reading a 65K fic that heavily features Tony Stark does not really sound like an enticing prospect. BUT! Hear me out. This is a fic that runs with one of the core concepts of fix-it fanfiction, which is: What if these characters actually talked to each other for a change? And yes, it gets messy and complicated and often painful—nothing is glossed over and no one is let off the hook easy. What you get here is a fantastically written story that is simultaneously an intimate & slow character study of both Bucky and Tony, a grand sweeping road trip fic with a thrilling plot that will have you on the edge of your seat (there is a moment in this where I really thought it was all over), AND a decade spanning tale of epic love. If you're worried that there is too little Stucky or Steve in this, don't be. Even before he shows up around the halfway mark of the fic, Steve is very much present the entire time. It's incredible what the author pulls off here. This is one of my all-time favorite fics. I love it a totally not normal amount.

🚂 Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven? by phoenixflight | E, 56K

Author's summary: It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do?

Or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

This story is a bit of an outlier on this list because not only is it the only fic that's set in the pre-war period, it's also not strictly a road trip fic, but a rail trip fic. Usually the road trips in these stories are either (1) a last ditch effort at saving a friendship/relationship, (2) a way of finding oneself and/or making peace with one's past, or (3) the 'we survived all this and here we are together in the future, so let's go and actually see some of that world we fought so hard to save' victory lap. The impetus for travel in this fic, however, is born out of sheer necessity. It's the height of the Great Depression and Steve and Bucky are really poor and really desperate—so desperate even that they're willing to leave behind Brooklyn, their families, and their lives as they know it to go look for work in the West. This is not a fic that's always easy to read, circumstances are dire, attitudes are, ahem, authentic to the period, and the nostalgia-tinted glasses about the good old days before the war will get firmly knocked off your face. It's also a story that will show you time and time again that sometimes you will find kindness, love and almost overwhelming humanity in the places you least expect it. And listen, if period accuracy and a very political Steve Rogers do not convince you, let me tell you that there's also a lot of pining in this. So. Much. Pining.

Ok. This was fun.

Next up: Short fics under 10K

[fandomfics]

Memories Are All We Have

Pairing: Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel x fem reader

Masterlist

Description: you've lost your memory, but you run into someone you have an undeniable pull to, you just know that you can trust them. Can they help you get your memory back?

Word count: 6.4k

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Au, Canon typical violence, death, mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, memory loss, abandonment, fluff, angst, dialog from some tertiary characters pulled from and/or heavily inspired by quotes from comics and movies.

A/N: the end got a lot heavier than I originally intended, but it just felt right. It is up for interpretation though.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The dark cloudless sky above you shines bright with a billion tiny points of light surrounding a full moon. A beautiful sight cut by the grittiness of the sandy dirt that seeps into the crevasses of your tactical suit, easing you into an overstimulating discomfort that nearly brings you to the brink of a mental breakdown. You lay in the remains of a spacecraft with no recollection of how you came to be amidst the wreckage.

You strain to remember yourself, but nothing appears. You desperately search for something, anything, to tell you the simplest information about yourself but nothing manifests other than a dull ache behind your eyes.

Something bright like a ball of fire appears above you in the sky, growing larger as the seconds pass, you realize it's coming straight towards you. You scramble to your feet and break into a run, looking behind you to see if you're at a safe distance you realize the object has changed course and is still on its way to you. In your haste your foot makes contact with a small boulder and you careen forward flat on your face.

When you turn onto your back you see a figure standing over you. She looks familiar, but the only thing you know is that you can trust her. A feeling deep in your gut says that you know this woman, it's all you have to go on as she stalks forward with a searing anger plastered to her face.

"Please...help me?" You say unmoving.

She briefly hesitates and confusion flashes in her eyes momentarily before she speaks. "Don't play games with me."

She reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you to your feet before restraining both your hands behind you.

"I don't know what youre talking about. I- I cant remember anything. Do you know me?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Shuri, I don't know. Seems a little convenient." Carol Danvers is not convinced that your memories are completely wiped out.

"My scans all show that she's telling the truth. Her memories have disappeared from her brain entirely and so have any powers she had. It's like they never existed in the first place."

"The ship she crashed came from the collector, I'm gonna go gather some Intel. Something tells me this could be more dire than a little memory loss."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A seedy bar with seedier patrons bustles with lively music as Carol waits for her contact. She doesn't know how he gets his information, but he's never been wrong before.

"Hey there hot stuff" he sits next to her as she rolls her eyes hard.

"What do you have for me?" She cuts straight to the point.

"What, no foreplay?" He tried to flash a charming smile but she keeps her face stern until he caves. "Uh, anyway... The collector acquired this new device. It's meant to collect memories in criminal trials to be stored and replayed, but the one he got was modified. It permanently collects them from the subject, typically leaving them a little...dead."

"Shit. Thanks." She hands over his payment and immediately leaves the bar, returning to her ship.

She presses a few buttons on a console and the holographic image of Shuri flickers to life. "What did you find Carol?"

"Its worse than we could have imagined."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You spend days in Shuri's lab as she runs test after test with Carol looking on. Your poked and proded by various instruments and needles until you're on the brink of madness. Neither woman speaks to you much unless it's a requirement of the current test. Instead they speak to each other as if you're not even there.

"The only way for the memories to return is with the device." She concludes.

"You're positive?" The skepticism clear in Carol's eyes.

"Absolutely."

Finally she speaks directly to you, "The plan is simple, the collector wants you back, there's a bounty on your head and I'm going pretend to collect. Once we have access to the building we can use the device and restore your memories before destroying it."

"I don't know how to fight. I'll be useless when we get inside."

Carol rolls her eyes before speaking, "it's a long trip, I'll train you on the way."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The ship is dark and quiet, you're meant to be sleeping, but all you're trying to do is wrack your brain, understand what's happening.

Suddenly there's a blade at your throat. You were so lost in thought you failed to notice Carol creep up on you.

"You're dead." She pulls the knife away from your throat, "how the hell am I supposed to train you? It's like you have no survival instincts whatsoever."

"Well excuse me for having an existential crisis because I know absolutely nothing about myself." You snap.

A frown tugs at your lips as she stalks away in a huff. She is cold, demanding, and ruthless. You know she hates you, but you don't know why. You try to be as nice as possible but it seems to irritate her even more, and she won't tell you anything about yourself, insisting that you'll learn when they get your memories back from the collector.

Day after day for a week your hours are filled with combat training. She doesn't let up no matter how exhausted you are. She punctuates every move to overpower you with a growled "Dead. Again."

Finally you break, "Why do you even care anyway? Huh? You clearly hate me. Why are you even helping me?"

"I don't hate you." You almost believe her. It's clear that it's complicated, not as easy as just hatred. It's deep and complex. Sometimes when she looks at you, her eyes sparkle for a fraction of a second as if she's remembering something good before morphing to disdain.

"Please, just tell me..." You plead, "I know we mean something to each other. I can feel it."

"We don't." She is short with you, but you're determined to get something out of her. Anything.

"Then at least tell me why you're helping me." You say as you follow her closely through the ship.

She sees that you're not going to give up and gives you the smallest bit she can in hopes of satiating your curiosity until you get to your destination. "It's for a friend I made a promise to a long time ago." She softens a bit at the thought. "When she was taken from me by a mad titan, I vowed to avenge her. With your help, your memories, I can."

Training is easier now that you have a sense of purpose and you understand Carol a tiny bit better. Not only are you doing this for yourself, you're doing it for Carol and the friend she lost. It feels like you're finding yourself even if she won't tell you anything.

"Can you tell me more about your friend?" You ask after a long sparring session a few weeks later as you lay across a chair exhausted.

She pauses for a moment, you think she's going to tell you it's none of your business but she starts to speak softly. "She was incredible. Her passion was unmatched. When she found something she thought was worth fighting for, worth believing in, she was all in." You see tears welling in her eyes as she stares down at the weapon she's polishing, "We fought together for so long until one day, she couldn't do it anymore."

She heads to the helm of the ship, signaling the end of the conversation. You mull her words over, try and think of anything you can say to ease her pain, but nothing you come up with feels right.

Her attitude has toward you hasn't changed, but you're hopeful that as soon as your memories are returned to you, you can mend relationship that you must have previously had.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You run over the plan in your head again and again as you approach the massive celestial severed head known as knowhere. It seems familiar but you gawk at the sight nonetheless, the juxtaposition of the skeletonized head among an interstellar cloud of gas, plasma, and dust amalgamating in a beautiful range of yellows, greens, and blues is breath taking.

The approach seems to take an eternity as nerves settle in your stomach. Carol is dressed in a disguise of sorts and you are cuffed. She places a key in your pocket to use later and you exit the ship. She puts on a show of shoving you forward towards the guard at the entrance of the collection causing you to stumble forward.

"Here for a bounty." She says curtly as she looks up at the towering being before her.

He speaks into a device on his wrist and the door opens, he nods and you make your way inside. The amount of items that surround you is staggering. Relics, Knick knacks, beings... You have a hard time picking just one thing to look at, you could spend years wandering the building and still not see everything.

Carol ignores the surrounding objects and heads straight for the lift. She doesn't speak to you the entire journey up until she notices you shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with your hands.

"Relax."

"I don't know if I'm -" your words are cut short by the doors opening. A man with a shock of white hair and heavy unblinking eyes stands before you. A small smile curls at the corner of his lips when he sees you.

"As agreed upon." He hands Carol payment and she returns to the lift. You stare back at her, mouth agape. This was not the plan. This was not a back up plan. She left you. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you try to subtly search your pocket for the cuff keys, but it's gone.

"You poor thing. You think she was going to follow through with whatever half baked scheme she used to lure you in? Bounty hunters can be awfully manipulative." He circles you, inspecting your body in the way one would with any number of the relics in his collection. "Bet she promised to help you get your life back." He says with a tap of his index finger to your temple.

The tears fall freely. You feel used. Anger builds in your chest until it bursts forth in a primal scream that threatens to rip your vocal cords to shreds as the collector chuckles behind you. He stands close behind you, you feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear.

"I can give those memories back," his voice is low, "work with me and you'll have your memories and anything else you could ever want."

"You took my them from me in the first place, why would you give them back?" You turn in place quickly to face him.

"You left before we could finish the job." He uncuffs you, "you see, you came to me. You wanted some of your memories removed." His hands cup your cheeks, "the machine malfunctioned and you ran away before we could do anything. Even without your powers you are strong." He presses his lips gently to yours and you recoil at his touch.

"You'll remember me soon enough."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Your eyes are held open by the machine, you feel it probe the pathways of your brain until it reaches its destination.

"We have to sort through some things my dear." You hear the voice of Taneleer Tivan echo in your head as flashes of images play in your mind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"That one looks like a cat!" You look to your left and see a young blonde girl beside you where you lay in a field of tall grass. Her arm is outstretched to the sky as she points to a particular cloud.

"I think it looks more like a goose!" You fall into a fit of giggles and the girl beside you joins in.

"Carol! Time for dinner!" She gets up with an overly dramatic sigh.

"Guess I gotta go, I'll see you tomorrow!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Definitely don't need that one." Tivan's voice rings clearly as the memory fades to nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"What if they don't like me?" The same girl sits next to you on a bench outside your favorite ice cream shop. She's several years older, mid teens maybe, but it's unmistakably her.

"Impossible. They'd have to be stupid to not see how cool you are." She licks around the edges of the waffle cone as the icy treat starts to melt.

"I'm serious." You cast your eyes down.

Carol places a hand on yours and you feel your stomach flip as you look up at her, "They're gonna love you." Her words are soft, "Plus, maybe one day you can be one of the X-Men! Living in a mansion is also an added bonus." She laughs and your heart lightens. You're still nervous, but she's taken the edge off.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Useless."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A flicker of several memories of Charles Xavier teaching you to hone your abilities fill your vision. He had a particular interest in you as you both share the same sorts of power, your time in the x-mansion was often spent with him.

"When an individual acquires great power, the use or misuse of that power is everything. Do not squander it. It is our birthright... Perhaps, our burden. With that power comes responsibility -- and also accountability." You're walking the grounds around the mansion with the professor, enjoying the beautiful weather. "This is only the first step on a long and difficult journey. Throughout your life, there is going to be a lot of people telling you not to be you. Don't let them tear you down. Don't compromise. You have the chance to become part of something much bigger than yourself. Right now you are in control of your destiny. You remember that."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I have a good feeling about those"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I'm so glad you came!" you greet Carol with a hug. You feel like it's been ages since you saw your best friend. You've only been away a few months since moving into the mansion, but not seeing her every day has been difficult.

You stand on a pier surrounded by carnival games and rides, the sea breeze tousles her hair around her face as the smell of funnel cake and popcorn invades your nostrils. You take her hand and run to the end of the pier where the sea lions lounge on the platforms below. You comment back and forth on the behavior of an especially rambunctious pup whose antics have left you both in a fit of giggles.

You've missed her smile, her laugh, everything about her. You feel the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach as you watch her lean her elbows on the wooden rails and smile down at the mammals below. The realization of what she truly means to you hits you like a freight train.

You are in love with your best friend.

"Promise me something Carol."

"Anything." Her eyes are bright as they look up to you.

"Best friends forever. No matter what. We'll always be there for each other." You hold your pinky out to solidify the pact and she wraps her pinky around yours.

"Always and forever."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Guess she lied. Let's get rid of that."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Years later you are visiting home, It's your 18th birthday and you and Carol have spent the day celebrating with friends and family.

"I know the perfect way to end the day." She says as the last guest leaves. "Come on, let's go."

The pair of you hop in her truck and drive until you've hit a secluded hilltop away from the light pollution. You climb out and she hoists herself into the bed of the truck, extending her hand to help you do the same. As you climb in you step onto a mattress and Carol begins to pull pillows and blankets out of a duffle bag. Once the bed is all cozy you both lay down and look up at the stars.

"Happy birthday." She whispers as her hand grabs yours, intertwining your fingers together.

You feel a tingle of adoration spread through your body, a smile stretches across your lips. "Thank you."

Comfortable silence fills a chunk of time before Carol's voice finally breaks it. "I want you to read my mind."

The shock on your face is apparent, you've always made it a point to ensure that you don't invade the privacy of people's minds unless it's dire or they've given you permission, and Carol has never given you permission before. "Why now?"

"Just look, please." Her eyes show a mixture of fear and anticipation. Your eyes close and gently you probe her mind, she opens up to you and you feel love envelope you in a warm embrace, you feel the squeeze of her hand as her voice rings clear in your head. "I always thought what I had was just a childhood crush, but it never went away. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember."

Your eyes snap open and you look to Carol, before you can register what's happening, tears fall from your eyes. It wasn't just you. She felt it too.

"Please say something." Her brow furrows with worry and you rush to answer her.

"Me too." You reach your free hand to cup her face, turning your body to face her, "Can I kiss you?" She nods and you lean into her. Your lips brush against hers softly before deepening the kiss. This is the happiest moment of your life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Don't need this one."

You feel the machine trying to rip the memory back from your mind and you hold tight. Not this one. You want at least one reminder of the good before you see how things ended.

The machine doesn't seem to alert Tivan of the failure to remove it and he continues forward.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Flashes of the next six years invade your mind, little moments spent with Carol when the two of you got any chance to. She had moved closer to you, but between your training to become a full member of the X-Men and her joining the air force to become a pilot you weren't able to spend as much time together as you would have liked.

You spoke on the phone nearly every day, a lot of happy meet ups and conversations took place, but the distance and time brought up plenty of arguments as well.

"We need to figure something out Carol. I love you more than anything, but we can't keep this up. We need to figure out where our lives are heading." You say exasperatedly over the phone.

"I know baby, but I need time to figure it out."

"We've had six years to figure it out, and every time I try and talk to you about how we can build a home for ourselves and be together, truly together, rather than this bullshit, you push it off. It's never the right time. Maybe it never will be..." You feel defeated.

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know. I just can't keep waiting like this." You hang up the phone and sob. Did you just break up with her or give her an ultimatum? You aren't sure. Your mind is swimming, you go to bed and toss and turn all night thinking about the implications of the conversation.

The next few days you don't receive your usual call, but you don't worry. She's probably giving you space to cool off before you try and talk through it, maybe this time will be different.

On the fourth day one of your housemates calls you to the phone. Your nervous to hear what Carol has to say. You hope she's finally come up with some sort of plan, a timeline.

"Hello?"

The person on the other end confirms your identity before relaying the worst news of your life. She's gone. Killed in a test flight.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"She spent years jerking you around and them poof, gone. We can keep this one."

He spends the next several hours sifting through the next ten years of your life. Becoming part of the X-Men and a teacher, dedicating your life to the kids you taught, nearly being killed, your slow decent into depression and fading of your faith in yourself, leaving the school to move back to your hometown only to work as a librarian.

He kept the memories he deemed necessary and removed everything else. You constantly felt like something was being ripped from your mind but you couldn't remember what.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I'd like to check this out." The voice is a familiar echo of your past as a book slams on the desk in front of you, you look up to see Carol, your lost love, not having aged at all. There's only one explanation.

"Mystique, I haven't worked with Charles in years, I don't have anything you want." You stare into her eyes coldly.

"What? It's me, really. Carol."

"You aren't very convincing, she's been dead for ten years. You should have picked someone else." You wave your hand in dismissal as you move towards your return cart.

"Look into my mind." She brings herself back into your sight around the desk.

You reach out and find that she's pushing forward her recollection of times you had spent with her in private, loving little moments, then the events of the last ten years, displaying them for you, trying to get you to understand what happened.

"Why did you wait 4 years after you found yourself again?" The pain in your voice as you stumbled through the words was clear.

"I was afraid. I spent days after our last conversation being mad until I realized I wasn't being fair to you. I planned to call you after the test flight... Then when I came back I saw that you were happy at the school and I didn't want to ruin that again."

"What were you going to say? After the flight." Your eyes fill with tears as old wounds reopen and tear at your insides.

"I wasn't sure at first." She whispers, "I was going to tell you to leave me, that I couldn't give you what you wanted or needed, but then when I thought about that as I took off on that flight. The world was a little dimmer, I couldn't see the beauty I usually saw from the cockpit. My dreams of flying didn't matter if I didn't have you."

You both stand still, eyes connected as tears trail down your faces. Her hand reaches for yours and you allow her to take it.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I just wanted you to know that, and maybe give you some sort of closure if you needed it." She drops your hand and turns to leave.

She's almost to the door when you call out to her. "Carol, wait!" Your body acts on its own and you run and jump into her arms, wrapping your legs around her hips as her hands land under your thighs to support you and you smash your lips against her in a frenzied kiss. Your love for Carol never faded, it was always there, this was like settling back into your own bed after a long trip away from home. A comforting warm embrace that felt safe.

You're both left panting when the kiss breaks and you rest your forehead against hers.

"Can I take you out?" Her smile beams wide and you nod.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Ah, this is a moment you told me about. When you look back on it you feel like a fool. You definitely don't want this."

It feels wrong, you fight to keep this too, but it slips through your grasp until you have no idea what it was you were trying to save.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Another flood of memories, years of happiness at Carol's side as you fight against the evils of the universe. You have fights and disagreements just like before, but this time you're together through it all. It's not perfect, but you work through your problems together, until you can't.

In your time among the stars you start to feel jaded, the looming threat of the mad titan Thanos begins to weigh heavily on you. You watch as countless beings fall fighting beside you and Carol in the name of what's right.

"This universe is finite, its resources finite. If life is left unchecked, life will cease to exist. It needs correction. I know what it's like to lose. To feel so desperately that you're right, yet to fail nonetheless. It’s frightening." Thanos stands over the body of another friend he has slain in the name of his purpose as he speaks to you. "Help me end the suffering that plagues this place. Help me restore balance to the universe, a quest truly worthy of your talents."

He extends a hand to you, an open invitation to join his cause. You think back on every poverty stricken community you've encountered, every starving child, every avoidable tragedy, and you take his hand.

Carol finally catches up to you in this moment, you look back and see her face fall in confusion, "I'm sorry, I can't keep fighting the inevitable."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The remainder of your memories that involve Carol are bitter, full of anguish. She treats you like any other enemy she's ever had, stoking the fire of your hatred for her.

Then something comes loose, a memory that was wiped before you met Tivan. Guilt shreds your insides as the image flashes through your mind. Years spent in service of Thanos to wipe out half the universe, killing in the name of his quest. It was never your intention.

You had just lost another friend in a battle to find Thanos. You lay on your back amidst the rubble and chaos after having defeated the last wave of Chitari, and you made a decision, you were done fighting a loosing battle, you had to do something to end this.

You formulated a plan then and there. The next time you met Thanos face to face you would get close enough to rip him apart with your mind, spread every molecule of his being across space and time until they are consumed by the heat of the stars and lost in black holes. This effort would certainly kill you, but you couldn't fight anymore. Not when people were dying left and right and there was seemingly no end in sight. You didn't tell Carol, you knew she would try and stop you. You didn't tell anyone. This was your burden to bear.

The thing you hadn't anticipated was the mind stone. You were so wrapped in grief and guilt you were short sighted. The second he touched your hand with the gauntlet your memory of the plan was gone. You were fully in his hold, a servant.

The machine begins to shake beneath you. Your eyes go white and you are no longer in control of your body. The straps and instruments that hold you down seem to disobey gravity as they disassemble themselves and float away. Your body rises in the air and a burst of energy flows from you, atomizing the machine beneath you and releasing every memory back to you.

The air crackles with telepathic energy as your mind searches for the collector, but he's no longer there. How long were you out of control? You reach out again to whoever is around, you sense a familiar presence, Carol.

Your eyes return to normal and you land with your feet firm on the floor, you are full of determination. You feel the suffering of countless beings in the building. Floor by floor you release them, taking out any guards or threats on your way. When you're halfway through you finally find Carol slumped over in a clear case amid other heroes that have gone missing across the universe. You release the others one by one and ask to probe their minds before unlocking the abilities that the collector had somehow managed to dampen.

When you make it to Carol's case you sit on the ground next to her and pull her into your lap, gently you push the hair from her face. She barely stirs before her hands are around your neck, she's weak but you don't fight when she pushes into you, your back pressed against the ground as she straddles you.

"It's okay. I deserve it." You choke out through tears. You reach into her mind and unlock her powers without probing further.

"What are you doing?" She screams in frustration.

"You need your abilities to rescue everyone else. Please Carol, just do it." You sob, you don't fight her in the slightest. "I can't live with what I've done, I don't want to."

The pressure at your throat increases until your vision darkens around the edges.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"It's too dangerous Carol!" You hear Shuri's voice in the distance.

"I need to know more. I need to understand what the hell happened in there. She wanted me to kill her." She whisper shouts.

"You were supposed to make sure she didn't get anything back, she's dangerous. You know that better than anyone else."

Carol sighs heavily, "That's why I'm taking her to a deserted planet. Once we have our feet on the ground I'll send the ship back into orbit. If something happens to me, at least she won't be able to hurt anyone else."

You don't hear the rest of the conversation as the crushing weight of your reality bares down on your chest until you struggle to breathe. Your eyes are fixed to the ceiling above you, but you see nothing. Your mind fogs up until your eyes loose focus and your thoughts vacate your mind.

You feel the ship land and Carol snaps you out of your trance, guiding you out of the ship before you watch it rise back into the air and disappear from sight.

You're in the middle of a field of tall grass, much like the one you and Carol played in as kids, this would be a good place to go. You sink to your knees before the love of your life and wait for her to speak.

"What happened to you?" She whispers, her voice full of emotion.

"I just wanted everything to stop. I didn't want to keep watching our friends and family suffering needlessly in a war that we were loosing in." Your eyes latch onto hers, "I was going to kill him myself, even if it meant I would die in the process. I didn't want to tell you, I knew you'd try and stop me."

You could see a shift in her gaze, understanding blooms in her features and you know she believes you, but the anger is still there.

"You killed for him."

"I was so wrapped up in my plan that I didn't think about the mind stone." You hang your head in shame. "I fucked up. I don't deserve mercy, I don't deserve to live. I let my emotions drive me to the point of endangering countless lives."

When you look up, she's gone. Her silhouette disappearing into the purple sky. You fall back into the grass and watch the sky change with the fading light of the sun as it dips below the horizon. You lay unmoving until exhaustion overtakes you and your eyes close.

Your sleep is fitful, nightmares of everything you'd done since joining Thanos plagues your vision. The face of every person you ever hurt flips through your mind like a photo album. You know you were manipulated, but the pain of your actions consumes you. The gnawing guilt is more than you can take, you don't want to wait for Carol to possibly return to put you out of your misery.

You rise from the ground and take flight into the dawn, you want to see something beautiful. You fly over the surface of the planet taking in its lush beauty. You make it to the Mountains taller than you've ever seen, dense forests with trees of colors you can't begin to describe, a bright sea with beaches of white sands.

When you're finally ready you shoot through the atmosphere as fast as your abilities will carry you. Your breathing becomes laboured as you break through the last layer, the icy chill of space envelopes you and your last thought of Carol's face.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but this memory is only vaguely familiar to you. You lay in the recovery room in the X-mansion, but you can't place when. Your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and next to you a figure sits with her head in her hands.

"Carol." Your voice is weak, barely a whisper.

Her head shoots up, tears in her eyes as one of her hands desperately clasps onto yours and the other clasps your cheek.

"There you are."

[lettingthoughtsflow]

season 1: episode 1 (crush, chop, & burn pt. 1)

alright y'all I'm bulletpointing as I watch so let's go!!

the whole "mrs. and mr. davenport" beginning scene is literally seared into my brain from childhood-i think it's funny how clearly i remember it

when we meet the team they're in these mission suit esque things and seeing as all they do is train, is that what they live in????

davenport saying "i don't want to brag, but i am incredibly smart" when introducing the kids is so wild when you consider the fact that he probably didn't have anything to do with making the kids

i love how offended they get when tasha calls them robots

tasha and leo have such a cute relationship i freaking love it

i know we hate donald, and rightfully so, but this episode really amps me up bc dude you are literally introducing them to your wife and you keep talking about them like plants you're growing

when donald is introducing the kids, tasha's the only one recognizing that they're children

"i wanna go upstairs" 😭

they literally never leave the room, it's not just because of filming and set design, they don't even have a place to run THERE'S A RAT WHEEL

@fairytalesociology said that davenport feeds the kids glorified dog food and they're so right

you can't just feed them food??? even preordered????

they eat, sleep, and bathe in their capsules no one can convince me the man was just looking to be cost effective in getting these inventions perfected (they were not children to him AT ALL)

bree is just a girl and i love her for it bc thinking about breaking into song/dance numbers is so real

If you pay attention to the background you can see chase playing with a random locker for a while and I think it’s so funny/cute

Honestly I with it opened and he was just using his bionic hearing to unlock the locker

i just noticed leo has brown paper wrapped around his textbooks and it reminds me of when my mom and i use to make book covers out of trader joes bags and decorate them 💗

baby chase was insterested in chess club and taking med school courses, he deserved more extracurriculars and hobbies in the show

the early heat vision graphics 😅

"i know a chiropractor in the phillipines" is so cute

davenport is awful but the freaking out performances are great

30 grand for a situation to go away is insane bc what really happened??? like yeah the mascot's head caught on fire but it wasn't like they destroyed the building. and even if it was a bribe to get rid of witnesses, you'd have to adress the entire school bc it was a pep rally

tasha being a mom to the kids is so cute like yeah, they're just kids

bree immediately getting excited about the party with tasha is freaking adorable, we deserved more Tasha fr

honestly i think she was more freaked out about the kids than their bionics

lecturing them about how they were designed for missions is so disheartening bc 1. you've probably told them all about how they're top sercret their whole lives and 2. they are superHUMANS

it honestly feels akin to when a parent tells a child they have to be perfect or pushes them into a career they never wanted

yes bc having no contact with the outside world will prevent their glitches and train them for missions (not to mention real life)

obviously it's the perfect solution

honestly if they socialized they would probably have better emotional regulation and control over their glitches. like you could have at least brought them to a company party (and told everyone to treat them as humans) so they have practice talking to people.

chase really was always in blue plaid from the start huh?

"they are not just science projects, they're teenagers" TELL HIM QUEEN

bro you're going to tell me that you can't reprogram your ROBOT FRIEND to like your WIFE

like he can still be snarky but he literally hates her

i really hope someone gets this, but there are a few scenes where Adam feels more like a regular person than just someone who's core personality is being kind of dumb and reckless, and the ending scene before everyone goes to bed is one of those few scenes