#this took an unreasonable amount of time to write out

[bagofwetmice]

You're 5'5 feet

01 - Are you named after anyone?

i don't think so? but i'm also not really in touch with my extended family, so i don't know

02 - When was the last time you cried?

uh. um. who knows? i don't

03 - Do you have kids? yes! i have a couple of very beautiful and very traumatised OCs! i love them all very much all of them have dead loved ones and equally yeah, for sure :3

04 - What sports do you play/have you played?

i did ballet and gymnastics for a few years when i was in primary school

05 - Do you use sarcasm?

sarcastic? me? never- why, i'm offended you would even ask such a thing!!

06 - What is the first thing you notice about people? did they wash their hair recently?

07 - What's your eye color? they're kinda dirty light blue with brown around the pupil

08 - Scary movies or happy endings? ,, happy endings, since i don't have much of an opinion on scary movies

09 - Any talents? apparently, i can mimic a cat meow pretty well, given how my sister keeps mistaking me for one lmao

10 - Where were you born? In a city where the coat of arms is a woman with a fish tail and her tits out in Poland

11 - What are your hobbies? I love drawing! one could even say i like it a bit too much lmao and i really like writing when i'm in the right mood [note: said mood occurs once in a blue moon😔]

12 - Do you have any pets? [cat on keyboard] yes! i have 2 cats! [cat on keyboard ] Beza (meringue in english) is a little tabby and around 5 months [ cat in bathtub] [cat has gone to sleep, keyboard is safe] she is very. um. stupid. and silly :3 her favourite hobbies are : inspecting the garbage chute, getting stuck in drawers, chasing toys, running into walls, bird watching and play-fighting with our other cat: Ori! (formerly Oreo, got charged with manslaugher in cambodia and had to change identities) is a 3-year-old tuxedo cat. very, very timid cat :( Her favourite hobbies include: getting pet next to the food bowl, sleeping, bird watching, inspecting the garbage chute, bringing us socks and gloves that she [somehow] finds around the house

13 - How tall are you? i literally got measured today :3 unfortunately, i have not miraculously grown taller and am still just 169 centimeters 😔

14 - Favourite subject in school? i really liked art class BUT IT DISSAPEARED IN 5TH GRADE but other than that i'd pick english class because it was piss easy my classmates were so bad at english though omg once one of them literally asked me to translate the textbook for her [she also didn't know what good afternoon meant]😭😭😭

15 - Dream job? probably something art related idk man😭 i wanted to be a game dev when i was younger tho @b10550m >:3

Aaahhh, thank you so much for the tag @king-a-queen!! 💚💚

15 Questions Tag Game

01 - Are you named after anyone?

First name: nope Second name: yep, after my grandma

02 - When was the last time you cried?

About a week ago bc I was laughing too hard Also techinically this morning. My eyes just started tearing up a bit while I was still in bed & staring against the wall. I guess that white wall was just tugging at my heartstrings

03 - Do you have kids?

The only children I have are my OCs <3 My current beloved OCs are Aym, Marchosias (💖💖💖💖💖), and Baal; all for Obey Me

04 - What sports do you play/have you played?

So as a kid, I took MSE (self-defense) classes, I did ballet for a short while, and I played badminton. But now I'm not really doing much sports anymore. I'm occasionally working out in a sad attempt to stay healthy but that's...not working out all that well because I keep forgetting about it lol. That being said, I walk anywhere as long as it's a walkable distance away (to me, that's around 90min max), idc it's the European mindset. Der Fußbus hält überall :)

05 - Do you use sarcasm?

As if I would ever smh what are these accusations

06 - What is the first thing you notice about people?

When I pass strangers on the street, I try to look for little moments that bring them joy. That being said, 90% of the time I'm just lost in my own thoughts & have completely tunnel vision, so imagine noticing anything 😭 When I first meet people tho, it's usually the way they look at you, which tbh is a little ironic because I sometimes just cannot look people in the eyes NFDHSKGJHKSDLGS

07 - What's your eye color?

They used to be blue, but now they're more of a greyish green with a few brown spots in them

08 - Scary movies or happy endings?

Okay endings, actually! Where characters don't get the happy ending they were hoping for, and some things are still a little messy, but all in all things are okay and they finally get to breath again. Though I guess that's kind of a happy ending? lol

09 - Any talents?

My newest talent is being able to imitate the cry of an owl. My sister explained it to me earlier & once I got it to work I've been doing it non-stop until I got lightheaded 😭 Worth it tho Other than that, being able to teach myself the basics of a lot of things within a day (one of the upsides of ADHD), as well as abandoning a lot of my projects after a while because I suddenly decided to start a completely different one (one of the downsides of ADHD) I also have a real talent for writing angst. Ask any of my closer mutuals, I keep terrorizing them with my ideas (love you guys 💖) And finally: telling myself that I'll go to sleep early & then it's 5am

10 - Where were you born?

in Germanyyy fun fact: I was born more or less close to a town that has a store called 'Mephisto' lol

11 - What are your hobbies?

being insane, obviously ���� some of my mutuals can surely attest to that lol No, but in general I enjoy writing & drawing, as well as, uhm. Randomly deciding to take up multiple really time-consuming projects, such as the OM card rec thing I did that I still need to update ahhhh, my Obey Me OC & MC ask game that originally had 200+ questions before I cut it in half out of fear of it being too long, half of my side blogs, and SOOOO many other things. <- or in short, being insane 💚 I also really love cooking & baking! Side note, if anyone wants an easy chocolate lava cake recipe, you just need to ask... 👀 Also lately it's just been romancing Thanatos in Hades because I randomly remembered that I hadn't done that yet

12 - Do you have any pets?

I used to have clownfish and a starfish, but other than that I've never had any myself. I love the dogs I dogsit with all my heart tho, and there is this cat that I sometimes meet on my way to work. She always runs up to me when she sees me and won't stop meowing until I start petting her, and last time she climbed onto my lap (I sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, I did not care lmao), she's literally the sweetest 😭😭 I also ring the doorbell for her whenever it rains so she doesn't have to stay outside lol

13 - How tall are you?

1,68m or 5'6 if I got the conversion correct lol

14 - Favourite subject in school?

Heavily depended on the teacher, but generally art class because we usually got to work on whatever we wanted with and listen to music. Also English in 9th grade, math in 10th and German in 11th because the teachers were great

15 - Dream job?

I've been thinking of translations in general/software localizition for a while now. I just love dissecting all the small differences between languages (D.D.D.s being called 'D3' my beloved), + there are so many invisble choices made when translating. You'll always lose something because every language has its little quirks and a different mindset that can't be translated directly, but you'll also gain something that the original version didn't have. It's an art form in itself, and I really love that <3 The other job that keeps popping into my mind is event mangement. I already get to organize a ton of things for my uni since I'm part of the student council for one of my two majors. It's exhausting, but also really rewarding when you have people come up to you afterwards to tell you how much fun they had!

No pressure tags for a bunch of people, hehe >:) @alpine-forget-me-nots @healersadjust @misc-magic @sweetbrier2908 @reblogs-are-the-love @shootingstarrfish @mjoria @too-much-gacha @layphie @katboykirby @ghostlyyraccoon @lost-in-lamentation @bagofwetmice @glamphantasm @wizardthesai @mellonyheart @arlatthan as well as anyone else that wants to join!

[carcrash429]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel, DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Jason Todd Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: return from the dead, Murder, Violence, Grief, age gap (because immortality), memory loss (also because immortality), Light Sexual Content, alternating pov, Established Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, Hard of Hearing Clint Barton, One-armed Bucky Barnes, Vampire Clint Barton, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Jason Todd, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, Read by the Author Summary:

[Audio length: 0:37:51]

Life. Death. Resurrection. Revenge. What’s a bit more violence to an already damned soul?

recorded my winterhawkhood vampires fic into a podfic!!

[llamagoddessofficial]

The sirens are always rescuing Mc. But what if, for once, Mc was the one who came to the rescue of a siren...?

Amazing commission, courtesy of the delightful @our-brightest-stars. I love any chance I can take to write more arctic-based stuff!

---

You could immediately tell, upon entering the room, that they had been talking about you. 

Despite the sweet smell of coffee, the air was heavy. The chatter you had been hearing through the door immediately stopped, like you were a teacher that’d walked into a room of gossiping school kids. Four of your colleagues were gathered together around the kitchen table, mugs clasped in their hands - Evan, who you already thought was a bit of a dick, put his hand up to his shut mouth and cast a wide-eyed look to Leo and Tom beside him. Antoni, who you considered something of a friend, had her back to you but sank sheepishly into her beige turtleneck sweater regardless.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could tell from their faces what they had been discussing before you interrupted. You had gotten to know their expressions pretty well, after so long occupying the same cramped arctic research station together.

... Yeah, figured they’d find out eventually. If anything, I’m surprised it took them this long. 

You wordlessly made your way over to the coffee pot, shoes squeaking against the rubber floor. You put your rucksack onto the counter, grabbing your flask out of it, skin prickling from their staring. There was still a significant amount of coffee left - a bonus of working with people who were also coffee addicts was they generally respected the ‘never leave the pot empty’ rule. 

You filled your flask. The coffee still had some steam coming off it. Stars, the silence was deafening.

“... Uh... going out?” Antoni asked, plaintively, as you screwed the lid back on and pushed the sealed flask into the mesh on the side of your bag. At least she had the decency to sound ashamed. Leo didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker.

“Yeah.” You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders, doing your best to not make eye contact with any of them. 

Evan, clearly, couldn’t contain himself. “Gonna go track down mothman?”

You felt a flush of multiple emotions at the same time. Some embarrassment, some shame, all of it quickly washed away by aggravation. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you held your tongue. You wanted to point out what a stupid fucking thing it was to talk about tracking mothman (a cryptid from West Virginia) in the high arctic, but it was obvious he was baiting you, so you kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been made fun of for what you believed in. However... the words stung that little bit more, when it was coming from your fellow scientists. 

“Evan,” Antoni sounded exasperated, “don’t be such a prick.”

Evan raised his hands. “What? So I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

You didn’t respond. You walked past them, headed to the main corridor; you weren’t going to let this spoil your plans. “See you guys later.”

As you left the room, you vaguely heard Antoni and Leo starting to berate Evan in low whispers. Someone definitely called him an asshole, cut off as the door closed behind you.

You sighed. The hallway felt a lot longer than usual. You passed through another set of doors, heavy metal ones, into the cold ‘buffer’ room between the warm research station interior and the outside world. After double checking you had all your gear, you stepped out of the doors, outside into the sun.

People didn’t realise how beautiful the arctic could really be. If you told someone to describe the arctic, they would probably just talk about the ice. And yeah, sure, there was a lot of ice, it would be unreasonable to say someone was wrong for thinking of that. But that was like describing a forest as ‘just trees’. The arctic at this time of year was endless slopes of rugged greens that rolled and swayed and disappeared far away into the horizon and beyond, carved into shape by ancient lakes and glaciers scraping the ground piece by piece once in a millenia. It was a sight to behold. Trees couldn’t take root, only the hardiest shrubs survived, and you were little more than a stone’s throw from the vast sub-zero ocean.

That ocean, a haven for the rarest kinds of sirens, was your goal. 

You tugged your backpack into a more snug position on your shoulders, and continued trudging through the stones and bare grasses. Even now, with the sun high in the air and all but the most stubborn chunks of the ice gone, the arctic was... well, the arctic. It never got warm enough to be comfortable and it was a good idea to just keep moving if you wanted to make it to the shoreline with enough time to actually get some footage before sundown.

You loved your job. Some would call you crazy, for willingly spending months at a time in the arctic circle studying sirens. You’d always been interested in sirens. The mystery and culture wrapped up within them, the inherent danger, so little information could solve so much. Siren studies was one of those areas where even the most fractional of discoveries would be groundbreaking and important.

... Sirens weren’t your true passion, though. Your true passion was what Evan had probably just discovered, and shared with your teammates - why you were lugging such a giant cold-resistant camera kit in your bag with you.

You quietened your thoughts with a swig of warm coffee, and an increased walking pace. 

Would some people call your Youtube channel conspiratorial? Sure. But cryptids were where your heart really lied. Cryptid study, cryptid research, cryptid sightings... you were incredibly proud of the modest following of like-minded people you’d built up online over time - there was no doubt your qualifications definitely gave your word some weight in the tight-knit community. Honestly, you considered your research work simply a way to fund your true passion. Every day when you had the free time, you took your camera out with you, out into the beautiful arctic land. There was so much to look out for. What would you find? You were giddy. If you found something truly incredible, your channel could blow up, and you could do Youtube full time. Today your mission was just to get some footage of the sea for a voiceover section you had planned.

... There was never a small amount of side-eyeing from people you knew, when they found out what you were passionate about. You weren’t sure what was worse; the ones who rolled their eyes and made stupid comments, or the ones who nodded along but looked at you like you were a particularly imaginative child. At least the more aggressive ones were honest about how they really felt. 

Sirens, in a way, felt like they proved that you were right to keep wondering what else was out there. They were incredible creatures, not even fractionally understood, dangerous and magical - they perfectly straddled the line between science and fantasy and there was so much of them that couldn’t be explained by those who (so frequently) brushed you off. How did their songs lure people? How do their bodies consist of such strange combinations of beings? How do they effortlessly sink hunting boats? Why did so many cultures have matching stories of them that perfectly apply to real life? In your world, honestly, the existence of sirens meant that a lot of other cryptids didn’t seem like too much of a stretch.

You had dedicated your life to researching sirens. By studying them, you could follow a path that was suitably scientific enough to shut up the assholes who didn’t take you seriously... but also gave you the time and resources to pursue your real passion.

You had to admit, you took pleasure in people discovering you were a scientist and a strong believer in certain cryptids. The visual erroring on their faces was wonderfully karmic to observe.

There was plenty of time to spare on the arctic research station. Experiments were frequent but didn’t take literally all day. You were left with ample opportunity to do whatever you pleased. Like, for instance... go out and film for your Youtube.

Aside from wanting to take pictures and film some B-roll, you just generally enjoyed being able to be outside. It was all well and good in the spring and summer, but when autumn and winter rolled around you’d be lucky to be able to see out of the windows. There was nothing as endless as the darkness of an arctic winter; the screaming winds, the days as pitch black as the nights, the many weeks cooped up in one place because the outside of the facility was literally one of the most hostile environments on Earth. It was good to stretch the legs - soak up as much serotonin as possible before the winter months came.

After a decent amount of time walking, immersed in your thoughts, you found yourself able to see the flat expanse of the sea poking just over the snow-topped hills. You were finally approaching the shore. Even from where you stood, you could see the massive ‘islands’ of ice floating silently away in the far distance. It was a truly magnificent place to be.

You rifled through your pockets for your hearing protection as you came close enough to the water to smell it, eventually having to pull off a glove for the dexterity. Even just a few metres from the sea you had to be aware of sirensong. Sirensong was always something of a risk but it was an even stronger risk while you were somewhere as remote as the arctic.

... But just before you got your protection into your ears, you heard something. It sounded like scrabbling, a weirdly desperate scratching. You stopped walking, turning cluelessly and searching for the source of the noise.

A few yards to your left, a patch of snow was wriggling.

No. It wasn’t snow. You blinked in surprise; it was an arctic hare, a surprisingly large animal, lean and white and with beady little black eyes. The animals this far north were always so much bigger than you expected. When it saw you notice it, it scrabbled and flailed in a way that only a frightened animal could, clearly desperately trying to run away. 

Something was stopping it. Upon closer inspection, from where you stood, you could see it had one back leg trapped in a small crack in the ice.

... Huh. You moved nearer, putting your hearing protection back into your pocket. The hare flailed again, wildly kicking its front legs, it reminded you of an injured bird trying to fly. Then it totally stilled; as if it could hide from you after all that movement.

“... I really shouldn’t help you,” you said, dejectedly, to the terrified animal, watching its little whiskers twitch, long ears pinned back against its skull as it tried to act indistinguishable from the ground. “Survival of the fittest, and all.”

The hare’s beautiful eyes stared up at you. You could see its little chest going up and down, heart beating wildly under its soft white fur.

...

You scanned the horizon. There was no one around for a long while. Sure, your GPS tracker told your coworkers where you were at all times in case of emergency. But until they thought there was an emergency you absolutely weren’t being followed anytime soon.

...

You pulled your bag off your shoulders, kneeling down and tugging your ice pick out of its strap holder. 

“No one will know, right?” you told the hare. It was just one hare. Even though leaving it was the logical thing to do, you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to abandon this animal to die slowly and painfully while lodged in the ground. Besides, it was just one hare, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like it had been caught by a predator, or something. It must’ve got its foot caught by accident; this was simply a terrible stroke of bad luck. If you freed it, it could go on to be eaten by a fox or wolf. Better that than to just die and freeze solid.

Using your ice pick, you carefully went behind the completely still creature. You were impressed by its dedication to stay totally still even when you were close enough to potentially reach out and stroke its fur. You had to be careful it didn’t spin around and bite you - you gently chipped away at the ice, extremely cautious not to catch its tiny bony leg. The entire time you dug, the hare was as still as the ice itself, unable to shake its instinctive need to stay small.

It really didn’t take long at all. A few careful draws of the sharp end of your axe against the compacted ice... and suddenly, like a gunshot going off, the animal sprinted away from you. Its powerful legs sent up a spray of snow, some of which went straight into your eyes - by the time you staggered to your feet, hurriedly wiped your face, sputtered and looked back up again, the hare was completely out of sight.

... Well. That was definitely a story to tell. You sighed, grabbing your bag and hoisting it back over your shoulder. At least -

- splashing?

Your head snapped toward the sea, in the direction of the sound. Against the total silence of the icy glassy sea, the splashing was loud, loud enough for you to hear it several metres away from the beach. It sounded frantic, almost aggressive. What the hell? What was going on today? You pushed your hearing protection onto your head, and half-ran-half-jogged toward the shoreline. The bare rock, grass and drifts of stubborn snow sloped away into loose pebbles that crunched and slid underfoot, mirrorlike water lapping slowly at the tide line only a few metres away. Lumps of ice, mini-glaciers of their own, floated silently and ominously by. This was water that would easily kill you if you fell in.

You scanned the shoreline, searching visually for the source of the noise you’d heard only moments ago - and soon you caught movement in the corner of your eye, just around a ‘corner’ caused by a rocky outcropping that jutted up a little higher than the rest of the landscape. Behind the outcropping, you could see large ripples spreading out, fast and random like something was fighting just behind where you could see. It was easy to pick up, considering the rest of the shoreline was so millpond still. 

Immediately, you jumped into action, running across the pebbled beach and scrambling up and onto the rock face. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to see. Was it a person in distress?

... Except you could instantly tell it wasn’t a person, when the hidden section of the beach came into view, and you immediately saw a massive sleek outline that was easily twice as big as a person. It was for sure some kind of animal. But it took you a few crucial seconds of mind-whirring confusion to figure out what it was.

... Oh my stars. You ducked slightly, as if that would help.

It was a skeleton orca siren. A huge one. Partially beached, right there on the shore.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. All the breath left your chest at once. An skeleton orca siren, right before your eyes, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, arching white markings and strong bones unmarred by any scars that could show a loss. Its sockets were sharpened with frustration - its body was against the shore at an angle, you could tell from how its tail was still able to cause those waves that the sea probably deepened extremely suddenly. It was thrashing, clawed hands digging into the ground, the force of its thrashing sending up showers of both stone and sea. 

Your breaths were controlled. The closest you had ever gotten to seeing a siren before was spotting their distant tiny shapes breaching near your boat, or the blurry low-quality images from underwater cameras. You’d never seen one in person so close you could touch it.

Clearly, you weren’t all that sneaky. Its rounded skeletal face whipped around, and razor-like white eyelights in pitch dark sockets landed on you.

Both of you were the rabbit this time. You froze, all your hair standing on end, nerves prickling. The siren froze too, waves stopping, it glared your way. At least... you felt like it was glaring. It was impossible to tell, its skeletal features were devoid of any of the usual emotional tells you relied upon. Whatever it was thinking, it was definitely staring, claws curling into the ground. Just its arms, twice the thickness of yours, could almost definitely snap your body in half.

Man. Chills spread across your whole body. Good fucking thing you put your hearing protection in, huh? 

You took a slow moment to take it all in. From the shape of the dorsal fin, you could tell it was male; male orca had a tall, almost triangular fin, while females had a much more sloped and curved appendage. Those sharp white eyelights cut into you, he was taking in you just as you took in him, clearly analysing every part of you. There was something so terrifying about his gaze - the eyes of a predator.

He watched you. He seemed... alert. Very very alert. 

...

Your heart was thundering in your ears, the only sound you could hear in your hearing protection. You unglamorously pulled yourself over the rock outcropping, scrabbling down it, and - against all advice you’d read before - approached.

He was beached. You had to at least see if you could help, right? It was one thing to have an inner battle about leaving a hare to die, it was another when the potential victim was a creature just as intelligent and sentient and aware as a person. He was laid at an angle, but still laid, the highest point of his back coming up to about your ribs. He had lost the advantage of movement. You nearly tripped over yourself as you moved closer, nervous feet skidding in the loose rocks.

... As you approached, he seemed to get... calmer? His eyesockets lost their sharpness, his eyelights grew in size. It was the opposite of what you anticipated. He wasn’t any less intimidating, though, no less scary. Your eyes kept darting to his teeth.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” you asked, though you weren’t expecting a response, unable to hear even your own voice through the protection. “Where’s the rest of your pod, you dumbass?”

Was he smiling at you? Surely not. You dropped your bag to the floor, a few feet from him, digging through it until you pulled out your thick waterproof overclothing. Some other items tumbled out as you removed the gear but you paid them no mind. The waterproof outfit was like a boilersuit, it could be put on over the top of your other items and zipped to create a (theoretically) waterproof layer. Normally, it was a pain in the ass to get on, but you felt that you were on a time crunch and had somehow manifested almost superhuman speed.

You zipped up the suit, now protected in case you got wet. The closer you moved to him, the more you wished you had time to stop and fully admire him. The water on his bones and skin made him almost appear like he was shimmering. 

“... Ok,” you said, despite not being able to hear your own words, “easy big guy. Don’t bite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll get you back in the sea, and then I’ll go back to the land, and we can go on our way.”

He didn’t say anything. Because of course he didn’t, he was a siren, why did that thought even cross your mind? You blinked and shook your head, as if dispelling the thoughts physically. Of course he couldn’t talk. Something about his face felt so intelligent, somewhere deep down you had seemingly decided he could understand every word you said. And even if he did speak, it wasn’t like that’d be of any use to you. 

Something about him was eerily calm, even as you moved around him, coming close enough to his side to be within touching distance. Surely, a stranded creature like him would be thrashing and fighting when you came nearer, just like the hare? Surely he’d be making angry, earsplitting sounds that you’d be able to feel in your chest? The wind was picking up, tussling your hair. The siren stayed perfectly calm. 

“... I’m... I’m gonna need to touch you. Ok?”

...

... You reached out, and traced his skin with the tips of your fingers, extremely gently. It was cold. You immediately pulled back, turning and watching his face.

You expected something. Anything. A jump, a twitch, a lurch. Maybe even an attempt to fight you off. You expected him to swing around; hell, you expected him to even look at you. Any kind of a measurement of his reaction to you. Your legs were itching to leap back and flee.

But there was... nothing. No response from him at all. 

You came in again, this time putting your palm against his back, just beside his fin. It felt like electricity was running up your arm.

Nothing. Like he didn’t even care you were there. He was looking over his shoulder at you with a bizarrely soft look. Like he wanted you there. You felt very, very strange. This wasn’t at all what you were thinking would happen.

It felt like such a naive thing to even consider, but maybe... maybe he knew you were trying to help? 

Well, you didn’t have time to ponder the implications or reasons. You knew he was alright with physical contact. Now, you needed to figure out a way to get him back into the water.

You started by trying to pull - it only made sense, right? It kept you away from his front half, where the damage could be done. You looped your hands around the strong muscular base of his fin, using it like an anchor, digging your feet into the stones and throwing your whole weight backward. There was an extremely faint rocking of his body, literally about as much movement as someone trying to pull a car and only succeeding in making it bounce. Unperturbed, you tried again, pulling as hard as you could -

- the loose stones slid out from beneath your shoes. It kicked up the smell of wet seaweed and salt; if you hadn’t had your hands on his fin, your legs would’ve gone out from under you.

“Fuck,” you said breathlessly.

Did the siren laugh? Your head whipped around, he was looking ahead again. You felt like you saw his body move. 

... It must’ve been some other kind of vocalisation. You stood and turned around, trying again, this time pushing with your hands braced against the same spot. You pushed as hard as you could, nearly forgetting to breathe out, feeling your shoulders and wrists starting to twinge in pain. 

Once again, before you could make any meaningful progress, the force of your body made the slippery stones dislodge. You stumbled, all but falling flat onto his back, regaining yourself last minute and turning and looking over your shoulder at the siren’s head. 

“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” you asked, breathless and only half joking.

He was looking back. You really really got the feeling he was smiling at you. 

You tried to push again, since it felt more solid than pulling. Yet everything you tried, the stones dislodged. The ground itself was fighting you. Frustrated, you dug your boot into the stones, trying to dig down and see if there was sand underneath, but there was just more and more loose wet rocks. Like the beach was making fun of you.

... Wait.

You thought back to the hare. Chipping at the ice around its leg.

You let go of him, scurrying back to your bag, then returning just as quickly with your pick in hand. The siren cast you a questioning glance, but still did absolutely nothing to stop your nonsense. Quickly, you dropped to your knees by his side, holding the pick by the head and jamming the wooden handle into the pebbles around where his tail met the floor. They came loose, of course.

You dug fast, using big scooping motions to pull the rocks out further each time. When you found a particularly large and difficult stone you flipped the pick and used the sharp edge to hoist it out of the ground. Seawater would occasionally slip into the gap you’d made, as the tide made the most minute waves you’d ever seen.

Excitedly, you ran around the siren, to dig on the opposite side. You didn’t notice how you ran perfectly within range of his arms, yet you dropped to his other side unharmed.

Your knees hurt. You were certain they’d be bruised. But you kept digging, and digging. You weren’t really doing anything more complex than making a ramp underneath him - but you were excited and flushed nonetheless, tired muscles full of hopeful vigour.

Suddenly, his tail splashed, you felt his whole body moving like an earthquake. You jumped away as far as you could, this time successfully falling flat on your ass - just like that, the siren drew away from you, moving backward into the water as he regained his grip and pushed himself. You were shocked by the speed and agility with which his huge body turned... and how he almost instantly disappeared, under the waves.

Holy shit, you thought, heaving, finally letting go of the pick as you stared out into the rapidly calming waters. It was like he’d never even been there. I actually... I actually did it. I just unbeached a siren. I...

Speaking of waves. Exhaustion, like a sudden tsunami, washed over you. Your shoulders sagged and your knees screamed in pain, you lifted your hands up to your face to see you had great crescents of red irritated skin on your palms. You were probably going to get blisters. 

... The cold started to finally twinge at your fingers. You managed to draw yourself up to your feet, but you flopped right back down to your knees once you made it to your bag. 

You opened it up, looking for your gloves, a lovely warm feeling filling your chest.

Amongst the dry kit, you saw your camera bag.

...

Wait. Your eyes widened.

... You forgot to take a picture. 

Welp - that was the lovely feeling gone. Immediately, you let out a frustrated shout, falling onto your back and putting your hands over your face. You forgot to take a picture. What a fucking moron! You’d just been closer than almost anyone ever to a massive orca siren, and you hadn’t even thought to get your camera out. He’d literally been a sitting duck, you could’ve photographed every side of him, every scar and mark, stars you could’ve filmed a segment for your channel. But the idea hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been so determined to save him. 

You’d probably never get another situation like this in your whole life. The universe threw the greatest possible chance at you. And you blew it.

... You dragged your hands down your face, staring up at the mottled sky. It wasn’t yet sunset, but you could tell the sun was beginning to inch toward it. If you wanted to film you’d have to do it right now.

...

... You couldn’t tell anyone back at the station about this. You folded your arm over your eyes. They wouldn’t believe you; they discover your ‘conspiratorial’ beliefs, tease you about it, you leave in a huff and then you conveniently come back a few hours later with an elaborate story about how you unbeached an adult orca siren? Yet strangely, you have absolutely no proof of the matter, despite having a camera on your person the whole time? You weren’t even sure if your followers would believe it. Sure, they’d believe you encountered a siren. But unlike what the rest of the world wanted to think, they absolutely weren’t stupid - they’d be hard pressed to believe you RESCUED the animal and didn’t think to record.

Eventually, you sat up. You were really and truly gutted. But there was no point fretting; not when you had daylight to use.

Might as well just get some of that B-roll.

///---///

Looking at the comments was always nice. When you weren’t busy, and couldn’t get outside, your second favourite thing to do was scroll through the comments on your videos. Of course you always got the occasional idiots who called you nuts, but those were few and far between, most were people being sweet or recounting their own experiences that you always read with complete rapture. 

You imagined some might find it hard to believe that being tucked up in your tiny warm station room was your second favourite activity. Walking around in the wind and cold was much more fun. But that, of course, didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy curling up on your desk chair with a blanket and a mug of tea while reading people’s encouraging responses to your passion projects.

You’d only posted your most recent video, the one about your siren encounter, about an hour ago. You scrolled, delighting in the serotonin that came with having an active comment section.

... Eventually, you came across a longer one that caught your eye. You paused sipping your tea to read it.

@bluesaphii1996

I grew up somewhere where we constantly see sirens in our waters. I absolutely believe you saw a siren, because I’m like 99% certain I can see a siren in the sea behind you at 14:51. Look just to the left of your shoulder, about 2/3s of the way between the beach line and the horizon. Its head pops up for a second before it rolls in the water and dives again. Either that or it's a VERY weird seal. But I’ve seen enough sirens to recognise their behaviour. That siren is 100% watching you when your back is turned. Be safe!!

...

You had to read the comment three times over. 

Huh? What? 

Immediately, sitting up and setting your mug aside, you clicked back over to your video and skipped to the timestamp in question. In that part of the video, you had set up your tripod, and you were talking to the camera with the sea behind you. You stared hard at the screen.

... You weren’t really used to looking at the ocean. You were pretty certain that someone who grew up by the sea would be a lot better at seeing strange movements in the water than you were. 

But sure enough, just like the commenter had said, you could just about make out a shape in the water. It broke the surface, then disappeared down again.

You had literally put your hands against that siren. You’d know it anywhere. That was definitely him; watching you from the water, many minutes after you’d rescued him and he could’ve swam far away. 

...

You sat back in your chair. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

... Probably not excitement. 

You just couldn’t help it. A massive grin was spreading across your face. You were absolutely, utterly delighted.

Despite everything, you did get him on camera!

[theoceansluvr]

Multi-Character x Birthday! Reader

warnings; me hating getting older T^T characters; percy jackson, connor stoll, annabeth chase, + leo valdez author's note; it's that time of year again where i grow up and absolutely DREAD IT. but ! writing this for the sheer joy of it all🩷 my birthday is actually tmrw i just wanted to post this earlier.. may write smth else for the day of.. side note - percy's was sorta based on things im doing for my birthday this year !

PERCY JACKSON -

OOOOO HE LOVES YOUR BIRTHDAY SO MUCH !

like genuinely, he's plotting his moves 5 months in advance !

he usually makes you gifts rather than buying them bc he's a broke high schooler(me too)

not the best crafter in the world, but it's the thought that counts right ?

he also brings you a bouquet of flowers that the Demeter cabin gave to him exclusively for you !

however, if you already have plans then he's 1000% on board !!

oh your going to a Yankees game ? he's already decked out in a jersey and cap. your going to a broadway show ? he's learning the soundtrack already + choreography for some reason

i think he'd take you under water for a little makeshift picnic thingy or maybe out to the docks at midnight

gives you the biggest, fattest birthday kiss EVER. with the addition of fish orchestra play your favorite song !

best birthday boyfriend ever; 10/10 !

CONNOR STOLL -

my absolute bias of a man, he would give you everything and more for your birthday which is usually swiped off of someone..

HOWEVER ! i like to believe he'd be a responsible person and actually buy/make you something for your birthday !

on the contrary to percy, i think he'd actually be a really good craftsman ! like he makes you a whole flower bouquet out of paper and you'd hardly be able to tell the difference

he wakes you up at the most unreasonable time so you can "make the most of the day !" as if he has a clue what he has planned

probably peppers your face in kisses to wake you up

or pranks you.. whichever floats your boat !

he goes with the flow and drags you around to all your favorite places and everything like that :3 even if it's somewhere super boring to him like the art gallery

if you're happy, he's thrilled !

also, your birthday cake is probably a chocolate little debbie cupcake with a candle

as stated, he's my favorite little man so he obviously gets bonus points !!; 12/10

ANNABETH CHASE -

MY GIRLFRIEND OF THE YEAR EVERYONE, SHE'S GIVING YOU THE BEST BIRTHDAY POSSIBLE.

literally NOBODY is going to be able to out do her for either gifts or experience overall

much like Percy, she's had this planned out for the longest amount of time. like she was planning this after your birthday last year

makes you breakfast in the morning because Chiron is a wee bit biased for her and despite the fact she never really leaned how to cook, it was reallyyyy good !! (she learned how to make your favorite for weeks)

anyways, she brings you breakfast in bed while explaining her whole itinerary of things she had lined up for you

she takes you to all your favorite places + food spots, she gets you pretty much whatever you'd like, and then she took you to a bonfire that night :3

she feels like a love letter writer for some reason, so please expect a handwritten letter on all the things she loves about you and why she appreciates you

maybe asks Ms. Sally Jackson herself to teach her how to bake so you can have your favorite flavor of cake :3c

either that or she buys a box cake mix and you make it together !

she's my favorite lover girl and i adore her; 1000000/10 !

LEO VALDEZ -

lastly, the man, the myth, the legend. he is making you the gift of a lifetime

makes you something with the most intricate design imaginable; jewelry, a book cover, maybe even a jewelry box of your into that sort of thing !

anything that would make your eyes sparkle, he on it !

probably does that advent calendar thing with all the trinkets he makes you up until the day of

needless to say, he gets WAYYYY to excited over you, so cut him some slack !

practically hangs on your every word on your birthday too(he always does but it's worse now)

oh you want to watch that movie about paint ? sure ! he'll even make popcorn even though it sounds beyond boring

he also cooks you your absolute favorite food and pretends he's on some Gordon Ramsay show to keep you entertained

ends the day with giving you that one of a kind, borderline art exhibit worthy gift he'd been working on with a very, VERY passionate kiss..

he invented the phrase "love to the point of invention" so he gets a massive: ∞/10

[galaxythreads]

hey psa for newer fanfic lovers!! :) got this comment on a fic today:

i updated this fic in november, around 8-9 months ago. which probably feels like an enormous amount of time, but isn't unreasonable for a fic. sometimes they don't get updated for years, but they do still get updated. i know of a fic that wasn't updated for over fifteen years, and then the author came and took the like 50k they'd written, edited it, and wrote a 300k+ fic in the span of like six months.

This fic is not abandoned and it feels a little bit frustrating to me that rather than wait, this person - who I love that they love the idea so much they want to continue it themselves, to be clear. that's really nice to know, but - this person wanted to just take over the fic for me. I do have a life outside of fics. and outside of that, I'm very mentally ill. I completely understand the instinct to want more of the story, but part of the culture of fics is that sometimes you've just gotta wait. it sucks. It's not enjoyable. But that's just the nature of how fics work. And to make this clear:

95% of authors will let you know if the fic is discontinued.

until that point, encouragement, support, and reassurance that you're still there waiting for the next update is always welcomed. A detailed analysis of why you love the fic will probably get you an update within 3 months, or at least the reassurance of knowing that the author knows how much the fic means to you.

Please don't offer to take over the fic unless the story has been explicitly stated to be discontinued, no matter how much you love it. I understand the instinct, i promise, but all this did was make me extraordinarily anxious. I've responded to the comment and made it clear that they don't have my permission to continue the fic, but part of me is like. do i have to give an update this week to prove that it's not abandoned and they don't disregard what I said and take over the story for me? Do i have the energy and mental space TO write an update that quickly? Am I going to be able to finish this fic or will be stolen out of my hands because I didn't write fast enough? Do I have the right to say that I want to work on it if I'm not updating quickly? What if they still ignore me saying no and then they start working on their own version before getting pissed with me for continuing?

It's made it a lot more convoluted for me than it needed to be. So just. Just wait. Please. Thanks.

-very tired fic author

[cillsworld]

Help me doctor Crane✧₊⁺

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Ship|Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary|you run into Jonathan out of fear and he takes advantage of the situation.

Word Count|1344

Warnings|smut(18+!), age gap!, oral(m!rec), deep throating, chocking, crying?, kidnapping, innocent! reader, dub-con?

Notes|soo this is my first like smut writing or fanfic ever, well it's a drabble but ykyk. I think it's okay but I don't love it, also had no idea how to end it so it's a bit random but yeah😭 hope u enjoy! masterlist

"Oh look at you, such a pretty little thing.." His raspy but quiet voice sighed out, itching a part of your brain in the most pleasant way, his presence fully intoxicating you; from the odd way he smelt or how he held your face, squeezing your cheeks between one hand while mocking you.

"practically ran into the belly of the beast and why? Because you were scared?" the condescendence was dripping from his tone as he chuckled dryly, finding it hilarious that after being sprayed by one of his goons you had run to his arms for comfort, and now you're stuck here in his little 'base'; whining behind the cloth he had hastily stuffed in your mouth, struggling against the restraints he had put on you while your brain was still hazy, somehow managing to bind you to a support beam.

"what am I gonna do with you hmm?" He continued in a bit of an agitated tone, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared you down, "I could just.. kill you?" he muttered out and your eyes naturally widened, the dangers of this situation setting in, specially when you saw the gleam in his eyes, a muffled whimper escaped you.

"but that would be such a waste..." He was almost talking to himself now in a barely audible tone, his eyes dropping to blatantly check you out.

You tried speaking from behind the gag, wanting to have a say in the matter of your own life and death; he rose an eyebrow in response, reaching up to untie it, seemingly interested in what you have to say for his own amusement.

"please don't kill me doctor Crane, please! I'll do anything!" Your pleas were met with a very bored looking 'doctor Crane', seemingly sick of the generic lines he'd heard one too many times, but they were definitely different coming from a youthful, attractive girl such as yourself and caused a certain tightness in his pants.

Your frantic pleas were interrupted by a hum of his smooth voice, "anything? You'd do anything?" he repeated in a strangely slow tone, though it was unsettling you rushed to nod in response, not letting the chance of surviving letting slip.

He scoffed lightly, glancing downward in thought before taking leisurely steps behind the pole you were tied to, undoing the messily done knots to release your sore wrists, "let's test that theory then.."

Of course you tried to make a run for it but a hand in your hair and arm over your neck were quick to pull you back, so quick in fact that you were sure he anticipated your attempted escape which made you feel dumb for even trying.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy right sweetheart?" he muttered in your ear, his voice had a eery edge to it now that made goosebumps rise all over your skin.

"You're choking me..." Your now raspy voice spoke as your eyes started to well up from the burn in your scalp, your hands reached up to try and pry his arm off your neck though he was much stronger than you so your efforts were to no avail

"oh am I?" He spoke in mock pity, tightening his arm around your neck making you yelp as you started to panic even more, "could've just played nice but you just had to go and be a smartass huh"

"I'm sorry.. Please stop I'm sorry" you whimpered out as tears dripped down your cheeks, landing on the sleeve of his coat that probably cost an unreasonable amount of money.

Your ears perked up as the sound of sniffing reached them, his hands left you hair and neck before turning you around to face him while you took in quick breaths to fill your parched lungs, "smell so sweet.."

He muttered more to himself than you while playing with a strand of your hair, blue eyes looking over your flushed, wet and sniffling face, "how old re'you sweetheart?" His oddly soothing voice questioned as he cupped your cheek with one hand, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

"I'm- uhm, nineteen.." He sucked in a sharp breath at that, his pale cheeks flushing lightly, "then you know what I want don't you? What you'll have to do in order for me to free you.." He questioned lowly,

You had a vague idea of what he wanted, but hoped if you pretended not to know you'd be able to escape faster, "what do I have to do doctor Crane?" You questioned back with a tilt of your head.

"Don't play dumb sweetheart" he retorted with a scoff, finding amusement in your antics.

"I want you" you let out a little squeak of surprise feeling the force of his hands on your shoulders, pushing till you were sitting on your knees.

"To be on your knees and suck me off, is that clear enough for you?" He questioned with a mocking tilt of his head, squishing your cheeks between one hand as he did so, "y-yeah.." You responded quietly with a little nod.

Your shaky hands reached for his zipper, glancing up at him before pulling it down and unbuttoning his pants to reveal his covered bulge, you were about to pull his boxers down but paused, letting your fingers rest on the cotton hem.

"I've never.. done this before doctor Crane" you voiced your nerves quietly, chewing on your bottom lip as your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, his face softened slightly at your confession.

"I know.. I'll help you" he responded in a soothing tone, running a hand through your hair, he reached his other to pull down his black boxers to reveal his hard dick.

He took pleasure in the way you started at it in awe, "go on, touch it" he told you quietly, you tentatively brought your had and wrapped it around his base, looking up at him with wide eyes as he wrapped his hand around yours and guided it to stroke him.

"now wrap your lips around it and suck" he ordered impatiently, removing his hand from yours as you got the hang of it, you did as he asked and took his tip in your mouth, letting your tongue lick the beads of pre-cum off his slit, a groan escaping him that urged you on, getting bolder as you took him half way and hallowed your cheeks.

His hand tightened in your hair as he started thrusting in your mouth in sync with the way he was making your head go up and down on his dick, "there you go.." He muttered out, basking in the little whimpers escaping you as he went deeper and deeper.

As he started breaching your throat barrier your squirming grew and his pleasure increased at the tightness of your throat, he let you go for a moment to take a breath before pushing you all the way down till your nose was buried in his pubic hair, triggering your gag reflex as you tried to push yourself off, "calm down and take it, you've gotta work for your reward darling"

He muttered out as your eyes started watering, your whimpers and muffled mewls sending waves of pleasure straight to his brain and making his eyes roll back into his head, his hand tightening in your hair as he started rutting into your mouth, letting his body be controlled by the pleasure while panic induced you from the lack of air.

You felt his cock twitching in your mouth before he pulled out and let you fall back on your elbows, he aimed himself to come all over your face and exposed cleavage, most of it going in your mouth as you tried to breathe.

He tucked himself back in as you tried to collect yourself, he grabbed your face and collected most of his come on his finger and shoved it in your mouth, "swallow" he instructed simply and you did as he asked, cringing at the taste.

He removed his finger with a pop and straightened himself up, brushing a hand through his hair before looking down at you, "you should run into me more often sweetheart"

[ohbo-ohno]

I love your work!! Congrats on 1k followers- your fics are amazing💙💙 May I request ‘country house’ and ‘something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.’ ? Maybe with Price x reader please? (-:

1k game here - no more please!

i have an unreasonably difficult time thinking of a "something's off" for these prompts. but we write on nonetheless!

1.1k of price being your young daughter's "imaginary" friend. fair warning, this one doesn't have an actual price appearance, it's mostly just vibes. (cw for implied stalking/haunting, no smut!)

The big country house is your dream home.

It had come when you most needed it - your sister had finally gotten tired of letting you and your five year old couch surf and kicked you out with no warning, leaving you with only your car to live in and no prospects.

You'd been driving through a tiny town, only even heard about the house because of a kind waitress who took pity on you when you told her about your situation. She introduced you to her younger sister, a local realtor who'd recently marked down a nice family home to practically nothing because she couldn't get it to sell.

It had seemed too good to be true, honestly. The house is a grand thing - two stories, a wraparound porch, relatively new appliances. The price you paid - you negotiated down - was practically pennies.

But you don't have the privilege of questioning your blessings with a little one relying on you. So you tell yourself that this is just good karma, and you get yourself moved into the home as quickly as possible.

It's weeks later, from that same waitress, that you learn why the house was so cheap. Apparently a local man had been murdered there only a few months ago - a robbery gone wrong, if your source is to be believed, and an apparently very violent death for the poor man living there alone.

It certainly changes the way you feel in the house, knowing that something so horrible happened less than a year ago. The house still feels the same, but you look at it with the knowledge of who might've been there before.

You're... well, you're very lonely these days. You work long hours at home, holed up in your home office, responding to emails and sitting on calls all day. You only really leave to drop off your daughter and to pick her up, or if she wants to go somewhere in the city. If it were up to you, you'd never leave your new property.

And the house isn't small - you've never lived in a multiple story house, let alone one with no one else there. You can never fully shake the paranoia that someone else could be in the house with you, and you'd never know.

You remind yourself that you need to get a dog as soon as you can afford one, and try to wipe the nervousness from your mind.

When summer hits, you and your daughter spend most of your days at home. The house came with quite a bit of land, more than enough for a little five year old to amuse herself with on a nice summer day. You find that you enjoy sitting on the back porch with a cool drink and a book, keeping one eye on the story and another on your daughter while she plays with her dolls.

She doesn't have many friends. You'd worry, but she's always been a happy girl, and she doesn't seem to have any sort of social issues. You don't have the money to get her to a doctor, so you comfort yourself with the idea that she's just a shy child.

So you spend your summer, just the two of you. You spend an almost regrettable amount of time in your office with the door open so you can hear if something goes wrong, but you watch the small nest-egg grow in your bank account, and you tell yourself you'll make it up to your little girl by spoiling her later.

You only start to grow truly concerned about midway through the summer, when your daughter comes to you and tells you about an imaginary friend.

"John says we should play outside today," she says over breakfast one morning, casual as can be between mouthfuls of pancake.

"What's that, honey?" You ask, only half paying attention as you mix another batch.

"John wants to go outside. He's says it's a nice day. He doesn't like that you stay inside so much."

That makes you pause, turning to look over at your daughter. She's never known a John in her life. You have no idea where this is coming from.

"Who's John, sweetheart?"

"My friend," she replies, swinging her legs above the floor, happy as can be. "He was here first. We play together when you're workin'."

You blink at her a little dumbly. You know, logically, that John must be an imaginary friend - someone her little five year old mind has conjured in all her hours alone in the big house. But still, your simmering paranoia about there being someone else in the house spikes.

"Have I ever met John, honey?"

"Nuh-uh," she giggles a little, looking at you with an expression that says silly mommy. "John's not really there, mommy. That's why I gotta take everything outside."

You nod a little, your worry assuaged. It's just an imaginary friend - a perfectly normal kid thing.

"Well," you hum, turning to the skillet to start on your own pancakes. "I wouldn't mind working on the porch today, baby. You and John can play outside all you want."

It should be just that. It is just that.

Except... the idea of an imaginary friend eats at you.

As the pieces start connecting you tell yourself that you've spent too much time alone in this big old house. You tell yourself you need to get out, to find communities for both you and your baby to get involved with.

But the dots still connect.

You think of all the times you've heard your daughter start crying in the middle of the night, only for her to be giggling by the time you get to her room. You think of the night you were sure you left the stove on (you'd planned to make brownies, but gotten distracted while the oven preheated) only to find it completely turned off when you rushed downstars.

You think of the full conversations your sweet baby girl tells about John. She tells you he's tall, with a big beard, and a funny hat. She says he's got a nice voice and soft hands. She says he tells her bedtime stories, and that he has a funny accent.

You sit on the porch one night, and the back door opens behind you. Instead of the sound of small feet pattering towards you, there's silence. The door closes another moment later.

Your daughter tells you that John thinks you should spend more time with them - not her, with them.

The bed is made one day when you're sure you hadn't bothered in the morning. You'd been overwhelmed with work, had been too stressed to bother tucking in your comforter. When you go to bed that night, it's perfectly made with almost military precision.

You watch from the porch as your daughter giggles with her doll, dancing the little toy through the air and talking to nothing. You blow a cool breath over your mug, and tell yourself there's nothing there.

That night, there's a spot of warmth in your bed when you lay down to sleep.

[bagdaddyb]

Hi!! Oh my gosh seeing you posting again was such a huge joy and surprise for me I’m so glad to read your new work!!!

I was wondering if you could write a wanda maximoff x fem!reader ABO fic where either Wanda or reader are new to the team with a whole bunch of pining where they eventually figure out that they are each others mate? You can make either Wanda or reader alpha/omega!

It’s super okay if you aren’t feeling this request, either way I’m so excited to read more of the amazing work you share with us!!!

Hiiiii! So I got super carried away with this and I originally intended for this to be mean emo Wanda but sweet soft Wanda took over, I hope you enjoy! 💗

Pairing: alphag!p Wanda x omega fem! spyReader

Warning: Sickeningly Sweet, 18+ MINOR DNI NSFW NSFW

AN: Wanda 🥰

You'd only been on the team for a year when the mess with Ultron happened. It all happened so fast, you could barely process everything happening around you before something new would arise. Sitting across from Natasha sipping coffee as you spied on the twin alphas you felt the most relaxed you had in weeks. Natasha kept glancing their way while your focus stayed on her, two people staring was more suspicious than one. You and the red head proved to be a good team over the past year. Two omega spies flying under everyones radar. The world still assumed the Black Widow a one woman show and no one would ever believe her to be an omega. The breeze felt nice on your back, bringing a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear before looking down at your coffee.

"This has been a real shit show eh?"

Your voice held a familiar accent one you'd grown used to using under your many aliases. Natasha's eyes returned to you as she sipped her own drink.

"Not anymore than usual."

You hummed in response eyes wondering to the innocent civilians around you. Sipping your own cup you wonder if life would be better among them. Oblivious to the realities of the world to caught up in your own day to day menial task. The weight of this job seemed to weigh a bit heavier on your shoulders everyday, the question of wether the people you save amounts to the people you don't plaguing.

"S toboy vse v poryadke?" (Are you alright?)

The red head ask and you nod eyes returning to hers.

"Tired, it seems everytime we try to relax something detrimental in the world happens. I wonder what it would do without us."

A small chuckle escapes Natasha despite the truth in your words, her eyes shooting to the pair on her right once more. Though not a 'graduate' of the red room you hold your own tramatic story. Experimented on in the basement of Oscorp for years you'd been turned into a lab rat by the corpo bastards that owned the building. You'd escaped only three years ago, changed. Transformed into a human machiene, non-aging, ridiculously strong with a sirens song. You did the only thing you could and played the cards you were delt. Seducing mediocre alphas out of millions before any one even got a whiff of your existence but you could truly only thank Natasha for that. It wasn't until Natasha was taken down but the Black Widow kept striking that shield realized there was more than met the eye. It was Tony himself that went undercover to catch you and honestly had he not been an Avenger with intel he would of ended up caught himself. Another rich egotistical alpha who thought himself on top of the world. You didn't go down easy and spent a week in a cell before even uttering a word. In retrospect it all seems silly now you often think about how much time you wasted fighting the people who wanted nothing more than to help you. Eyes lifting to Natasha's face you can't help but feel greatful for the opportunity she's given you to help others like you.

"They're on the move."

You hum in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink mind finally wondering to the matter at hand. Your mission was recruitment nothing more. Ultron having been made unreasonably strong by the twins he somehow came to be in alliance with. You'd gained enough information merely listening in on their conversation, so you and Natasha retreated returning to the group in order to solidify your advances. Standing in time with Natasha you link your arm in hers smiling before chatting away about absolutely nothing in russian. Missing the way a certain alpha glanced your way when your scent drifted down wind. It only took twenty four hours for everything to go to shit almost a record breaker in your books. Ultron whineded up to be nothing after the male alpha was nere fatally injured the red headed woman taking care of him like clockwork. Luckily your team stood nearby able to quickly extract the alpha towards safety and medical attention. You worked efficiently getting him secured before moving to help the rest of your team fight off Ultron's bots and it isn't until the end when you stand with the support of Thor that you realize the red headed alpha had come with you. Returning to the compound there is tension on the quinjet. The group unsure what to do with the twin alphas who quite literally just tried to murder them and it causes you to roll your eyes.

"You could at least not talk about them as if they aren't right there."

You scold before moving towards the pair. The red head having been unmoving crouched over her unconscious brother.

"Privet." (Hello.)

You say making yourself known as you approach the alpha causing her to glance up at you.

"On dolzhen polnost'yu vyzdorovet'." (He should make a full recovery.)

You speak in a whisper trying to be soft.

"YA uveren, chto on ne khotel by, chtoby vy bespokoilis'." (I'm sure he wouldn't want you to worry.)

The woman merely returns her eyes to the unconscious man below her.

"Will you lock us up? Treat us once again like dogs?"

Your eyebrows raise and your posture straightens.

"No of course not, everyone deserves a second chance. You believed you were fighting for the right thing, there are many on this team who have been in a similar circumstance. Do not believe simply because we are labeled supergeroi that none of us have a dark past." (Superheroes)

With that you take your leave allowing the woman to be with her loved one. Upon returning to the compound you go into seclusion, you needed a break both mentally and physically. Just a few days where the world wasn't ending and it was entirely up to you to save it. Six days later you emerge slightly re-energized and fresh ready for the next catastrophe. The first place you visit is the gym already hearing Natasha's scolding on breaking your routine as you pass the common room you see the two twins on the couch alone. In this light you see them both clearly, while they hold the title twin they couldn't look more different. You study them both your eyes lingering on the red head. She was an attractive alpha, very attractive. You hear the tv playing but don't recognize the program they have on. Detouring into the room you catch their attention waving as you approach.

"Hello, I am rather embarrassed to say we never formally met. I am (Y/N) nice to meet you both."

You bow your head in greeting sending them a bright smile and both of them seem to freeze obviously caught off guard by your friendly approach. The male recovers first standing up before bowing his head back and sticking out his hand.

"Pietro, and that is my sestra Wanda."

You recognize his accent reaching to grip his hand in yours.

"A pleasure, I hope you two are adjusting well."

It isn't until then his sister jumps up a slight flush on her cheeks.

"It has been familiar, we are rather alienated but that is how it has always been."

You hum in response fighting back the disappointment in your expression.

"Don't fret, we are a group of antisocial extroverts forced to be in a group setting. Well expect for Tony but it just takes us all time to engage and meet new people, they will come around before long."

You finish with a smile.

"Have you two at least been taken care of? Food, water, lodging?"

They nod simultaneously and its enough for you.

"Good well I'm off to the gym, don't be strangers."

With that you leave not taking note of the full face flush on the woman's face.

"Kto-nibud' nashel svoyu sestru-omegu?" (Has someone found their omega sister?)

Pietro says in a teasing tone and Wanda punches him in the shoulder muttering at him to shut up. The moment you cross the threshold of the gym you flinch.

"Nu posmotrite, kto eto." (Well look who it is.)

"Can we skip past the part where you scold me so I can just apologize?"

You ask turning to meet Natasha's sharp gaze.

"Will your muscles magically regain their mass?"

"No."

You sigh accepting your defeat beginning to stretch as Natasha begins her speech on commitment. It is another four days before everyone finally comes around to the twins slotting them in as if theyed been there since the beginning just as they had you. Walking towards the gym you release a content sigh, a full ten days since the world seemed as though it'd collapse. What bliss. Quickly looking up your eyes fantically search for some wood unwilling to risk jinxing yourself.

"Dobroye utro." (Good morning.")

You hear from behind turning to be greeted by Wanda.

"Good morning indeed. Off for your morning cuppa are you?"

You ask and Wanda merely nods in response fighting back a yawn.

"Not a morning person?"

You ask with a smile walking beside Wanda.

"Not at all."

She says somewhat grumpily.

"Then what are you doing up at six a.m?"

You ask with a laugh and Wanda has to fight back a blush. She couldn't admit that she woke up at this time merely to see you every morning but what could she say.

"I like to cook but I'm not very good at it.... so I practice early before the others wake up."

The words spill out of her mouth quickly unable to think of anything better and you beam your white smile at her.

"Well how about tomorrow you sleep in till eight then I can help you learn, I am an amazing cook. I even know how to make some traditional dishes."

Wanda can't help the flush that comes to her face this time and it makes you feel a tingle inside.

"Okay."

The red head responds and you nod giving her arm a little reassuring squeeze as you come upon the kitchen.

"Good luck dorogoy." (Dear)

You say before continuing onto the gym and Wanda is sure her face matches her hair. Sure enough the next morning Wanda doesn't head towards the kitchen instead she spends the morning pacing her room anxiety ridden. You'd said for her to sleep in but how could she when you agreed to spend alone time with her. She couldn't tell Pietro and deal with his repeated teasing so she kept the information in slowly but surely having a meltdown. As she paced she played with her hair, bit her finger, twiddled her thumbs. God she couldn't do this. She'd literally been an experiment for Hydra and never felt this nervous in her life. The time passed quickly. To quickly. Right as she truly began to spiral there was a knock at her door, eyes shooting to the clock she realizes its already eight o'clock. Brushing off her clothes quickly before taking a few deep breaths and recuperating she opens her door. The moment her eyes land on you it all seems for naught, your hair is tied back. You wear tights and a tshirt covered by an apron. Your eyes spakle matched by your bright smile and Wanda feels herself melt a bit.

"I figured you'd meet me in the kukhnya." (Kitchen)

You say with a giggle and Wanda becomes a tomato realizing its not only eight but eight eleven.

"I'm sorry I slept in and lost all track of time."

You hum with a smile clearly not mad at all before turning to be on your way.

"All is fine I just didn't want to start without you."

Wanda follows behind you closing her door quickly. Her eyes wonder your body not being able to help staring at your ass.

"Ty slushayesh'?" (Are you listening?)

Wanda's eyes shoot up attention back on your voice.

"I asked what your favorite dish is."

"Oh um I love traditional pirozhki, my mother used to make them just slightly burnt at the edges. The taste reminds me of home."

You turn and smile softly her way.

"Perfect then that's what we will make, cooking can seem overwhelming but it isn't as scary as many think. I always recommend learning to cook for yourself first because it is much easier than cooking for others."

In the kitchen you gather the suppiles, you cooked often so the ingredients for this dish were easily found.

"I'll have you make the dough, it is all simply measurements so I'll do no more than verbal instructions."

You say as you prepare the area for Wanda.

"Here put this on, gotta protect your clothes and tie your hair back no one wants hair in their food."

Handing the apron to Wanda while standing by waiting. You bite your lip as you watch her. Running her fingers through silky red locks before pulling it up exposing her neck to you. She wore grey sweatpants and a baggy t. The sweatpants doing little to hide the member between her legs and you press your thighs together pleasurably. Wanda on the other hand was trying to think about how to see this lie through. She was an amazing cook, taking the responsibility of her brother from a young age. How was she going to play clueless. She should of at least said a dish she truly wasn't aware of how to make but when you asked her favortie food she couldn't help but answer honestly. You talked Wanda through the steps praising her for being a natural when the dough came out well. Leaving it to make the filling.

"What did your mom fill hers with? I do a simple meat and rice mixture since it goes along with my bulk."

Wanda nods along as she listens debating a moment before responding.

"Lets make them like yours, I've never had them any other way and I'd be eager to try."

You smile brightly at the alpha before nodding in response. Again you talk her through it always believing hands on with clear instruction was the best way to learn any skill. It gave the student mutiple ways to intake the information and made it harder to forget. Once the process is complete you help Wanda cut and stuff the dough, this part of the process being the longest and most tedious. You leave her to fry them as she likes since she'd mentioned her mom let them cook a bit longer and instead move to clean around her. Never a fan of a messy workspace. You hum as you clean, mindlessly really. It seems a tune that always floats around you. One Wanda is sure she's heard you hum before. By the time Wanda is done cooking you've cleaned the kitchen and are able to sit down and enjoy the meal with her. Of course the moment doesn't last and before either of you can even take a bite the smell of food draws in hungry Avengers.

"Mne vsegda nravitsya, kogda ty gotovish'." (I always love when you cook.)

Natasha says entering first, the smell of traditional food equivalent to a cat with its automatic feeder. Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Sam all slowly trickle in after stomachs growling audibly making you laugh.

"I suppose if I didn't cook every once in a while no one would eat around here hmmm?"

The group shares a laugh as they line up one by one to make plates.

"But in all honesty this meal is thanks to Wanda not me, I merely talked her through the steps."

Wanda can't hide the pink that dust her cheeks and all is going well until a certain twin walks in.

"Pirozhki! You always cook the best food sestra."

The blonde kisses his sisters head as he passes by and you can't help the eyebrow that raises in response.

"Always hmmm?"

You hum and Wanda is saved by the entrance of Thor who could of eaten the entire helping had he got here first.

"Mighty (Y/N) your meals are always most invigorating."

You smile at the God and try not laugh when you see his downcast face once he realizes he is the last one to show. Wiping your face after you finish you excuse yourself it was already nearing noon and you still hadn't even looked at the moutain of paperwork on your desk. Wanda watches you go. Over the next three weeks you and Wanda grow closer she begins training with you and Natasha in the mornings and you read with her sometimes in the afternoons, you don't question her about Pietro's comment after your cooking fiasco and Wanda never says anything about it because that woukd mean admitting to you that she was desperate to spend time with you.

"Soo?"

Natasha ask as the two of you jog around the gardens. It was early afternoon in fall, the cool winds combating your rising body heat making the jog enjoyable.

"Nothing."

"Yebat' will she ever make a move?" (Fuck)

You merely shrug.

"I don't know, I'll start showing signs of heat by the end of the week if that doesn't trigger her there's no hope."

Natasha laughs at that.

"Tak khochetsya al'fu, da?" (So eager for an alpha eh?)

"Not just any alpha, Wanda."

The week passes slowly and as the weekend gets closer your pheromones get stronger. The team knew your heat was approaching as they kept a calander for the Alphas so they could know when to distance, well everyone except Wanda apparently. Its Thursday night by the time she's had enough of your distance and decides to ask why you aren't at the table for dinner with the rest of the team.

"Where's (Y/N), I swear I haven't seen her all week."

Natasha sends a small smirk Wanda's way before Steve speaks up.

"Her heat is approaching so she is keeping extra distance for everyones saftey, she should come back around a week or so from today."

Pink hue coats Wanda's cheeks as the thought of you in heat takes over her mind and the pink only gets darker as her hard on begins to form in her pants. Her mind plummets into thoughts about your slick, and body. Thoughts about filling you with her seed and you being full with her pups causes her to be embarrassed by how hard she's become. If not for the table her bulge would be hard to miss. Wanda remains in a fog for the rest of dinner try as she might she couldn't get her mind off mating you and as everyone stands to part ways she remains seated making the excuse that she'd clean up the kitchen. Wanda strained painfully against her pants she could almost smell you now.

Rubbing your sides you walk towards the kitchen dinner should be over by now and you're starving. You need to get as many calories in as you can before you succumb to your heat tomorrow. The pain was slowly starting to set in and you'd be lying if you said you were looking foreward to the next seven days. You let out a groan as you turn the corner a sudden sharp pain stabbing your side. As you enter the threshold of the kitchen goosebumps rise on your skin the familiar smell of Wanda infultrating your nose before your eyes lock with the alphas. You're almost sure you see Wanda begin to tremble but you quickly begin to back away.

"I'm sorry I thought everyone would be gone by now."

You go to retreat from the kitchen and Wanda stands so quickly her chair falls behind her. In a second she's in your face grabbing you softly by the jaw making you look at her.

"Omega."

She whispers as she sniffs at you rubbing her nose against your cheek before falling to your scent gland.

"Mate."

She whispers again and you chirp. Your omega finally satisfied being acknowledged by your alpha. For a few minutes nothing happens, the two of you stand there relishing eachothers presence. You chirp at her as she lightly growls at you and you feel satisfied, whole even. Then you are painfully reminded of your situation causing you to sharply intake air and groan. Wanda growls louder at the noise of your distress and you whimper.

"It hurts."

Wanda's grip on your jaw becomes tighter, pushing you into the wall before pressing her own body against yours.

"Tell me where it hurts, I'll take care you shchenok." (Puppy)

You groan again, your heat suddenly over taking your senses as a result of having your mate so close. Your hands raise to grip Wanda's arms tightly, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

"Need you, please. Alpha. Mate."

Your words come out as little whimpers. Your panting, you don't know why but suddenly you can't get enough air for full breaths. So caught up in Wanda you don't even process you're about to be mated in the tower kitchen but honestly you don't care either. Wanda however does she feels territorial, primal even. She needs you to herself, needs privacy with you. She'd attack anyone who might see your bare body if she mated you here. Her room was on the other side of the compound, the alpha side far from the omegas and living area but your room was just down the hall. Wanda releases your jaw hands moving down your body till she reaches the back of your thigh. You bite your lip enjoying the electricity you felt from her touch. As she picks you up you wrap your legs around her torso tightly. Her hands against your thighs causing your sex to tingle. You wrap one hand around her neck before running the other through soft red hair. You return to chirping at her, the feeling of finding your mate an overwhelmingly happy one. You rub your cheek against hers softly and the alpha lightly growls in acknowledgment. You are consumed by Wanda's presence unable to focus on anything but her. When she lays you lightly on your bed you aren't even sure where you are, you just know you're there with her. Wanda bends over you, tucking her nose into your scent gland once more and growling loudly. She needs you, needs you marked, claimed. Needs everyone to know you belong to her.

"Mate."

The word is once again a whisper but you hear it all the same. The time to romantically strip you would have to be later gripping opposite sides of the loose shirt you wore the alpha literally tears the cloth off of you exposing your bra cladded torso to her. Your breathing speeds up the intimacy of the moment undeniable as you feel Wanda begin to run her lips down your body. It was like electric shock, the currents Wanda's touch sent through your body. She magiced your bra away completely exposing your upper half and growling as her soft lips wrapped around your nipple. You moan loudly in response, it felt good too good. You could get lost in this sensation alone.

"Mine."

Wanda growls against your skin before moving along to your other nipple. Your hands grip at Wanda through her clothes before you whimper.

"Need to feel you alpha."

Wanda growls in response, her eyes glowing red as she magics away her own clothing her skin now pressing against yours. She moves back up your body mouth hovering close before she lays claim to your own. The kiss is magical, the locking of your lips causing what you could only descibe as bliss throughout your whole body. You felt like you were glowing arms and legs wrapping around the alpha tightly you were sure this must be heaven. Wanda began to grind against you through the fabric of your pants, your underwear gliding against your excessive amount of slick. You blush, embarrassed by how wet you truly are from so little foreplay but the feeling doesnt last long when Wanda growls above you. Wanda pulls your pants off your waist guiding them down your thighs just enough to expose your slick and shudders when the smell of you tingles her nostrils. She's overcome with the need to knot you, breed you as she makes her mark on your neck. But she also feels the feral need to take you, to have your slick dripping down her chin as she causes you to come apart on her tongue. Starting with the latter she pulls your pants off quickly. Breaking away from your lips to slowly kiss down your body. You take a long gasp of air eyes dialating as you watch Wanda work her way down. Your hips begin to twitch unable to stay still at the excitement of what was about to come. Wanda's hands move to firmly grip your waist holding you in place as she kisses your stomach moving lower and lower your stomach muscles flex, a wave of arousal flowing through you. When she reaches her destination her hands move to your thighs lifting them up to hold you wide open for her. You're leaking, literally and Wanda can't wait to have a taste. She dives in slurping up the excess before moving to your center. Sucking on your clit then tongue fucking you like a woman starved. Your slick quenches a thirst Wanda didn't even know she had tongue lapping at your clit before quickly moving towards your hole eager to drink up the slick as a result. It doesn't take long and under normal circumstances you're sure you would of been embarrassed but none of that matters when your muscles spasm. Back arching in the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced, your thighs shake, eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Wanda doesn't stop eagerly drinking up your orgasm before wanting, no needing you to do that again. You whimper in overstimulation but don't stop your alpha, just as turned on by her need for you. You squirm against the red heads mouth a little towards her a little away, this time you last longer if only for your slight sensitivity causing time before the feeling was pleasurable again yet you cum all the same. Wanda moans loudly as you release into her mouth again. She could do this all day she's sure of it. But now as her precum begins to soak her boxers she knows its time. Lifting onto her knees between your legs red eyes glow as her pants disappear and through your haze you see her in all her glory. You reach down gripping her in your hand moaning at the size while she moans at the sensation. You pump her, an overwhelming feeling to suck her down your through the way she'd done you comes over you but Wanda quickly grabs your hand removing you from her.

"You're going to make me bust shchenok." (Puppy)

Wanda hesitates a second if only to allow her own incoming orgasm to subside, she needed to bury herself in you and it wouldn't look good for her if it ended just as quickly as it started. In the meantime she leans down over you meeting your lips in a hungry kiss the taste of you on her lips causing another wave of your own slick to pool between your legs. You push at her lower back willing her to enter you but she resist. Kissing you eagerly before breaking to kiss to move towards your scent gland, you pant quickly. Wanda's kiss having stolen all the air from your lungs.

"Mine."

Wanda whispers against you, hips beginning to grind against your slick in order to lubricate herself. You shudder in response.

"Yours alpha, take me. I want to be yours."

Wanda reaches down gripping herself in order to slowly slide into you. She's thick stretching you out in ways only she can, the burn sends waves through you and by the time she's completely sheathed you're a whimpering mess.

"Yebat' you're so tight." (Fuck)

She pulls out only to slam back into you, her pace is brutal, hips slamming against yours hitting a sweet spot you didn't even know you had repeatedly. Your moans are as loud as the sound of your wet slick sucking Wanda back in. You claw at her wanting her impossibly closer as she fucked you into next week.

"Holy fuck I'm cumming. Alpha. Alpha."

Your eyes roll back as you arch. The orgasm makes you see white and Wanda doesnt stop. You squirting fueling her ego.

"That's right shchenok. You love the way your alpha fucks you, love how deep I am in you. Look shchenok can you see me."

Wanda brings your gaze down the visible bulge in your stomach when the alpha bottoms out causing your stomach to tighten.

"I'm right here."

Wanda says as she pushes down on the bulge and you spasm again another light orgasm washing through you.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill you up, get you pregnant with my pup."

Wanda pumps into you harder, her knot slamming against your entrance as she nears her own release.

"Alpha. Alpha."

You whimper to fucked out to form any other words.

"You're gonna look so pretty swollen with my seed all mine."

You moan again as Wanda bends towards your scent gland the feel of her canines against your neck enough to almost send you over the edge. She sinks her teeth into you right as you hear a pop. Her knot having settled inside you easily combined with the blackout orgasm of your mating bite. When you come to Wanda is still knotted deep inside you. Nuzzling at your cheeks with a low growl. You chirp back to weak to do much else and Wanda hums.

"My mate, my omega."

10 months later.

You were exhausted, to say the least. A new born was a lot of work and a lot of lost sleep. Wanda wasn't here, literally dragged away for a debrief she was required to attend. If you were honest you didn't mind, she'd been slightly smothering you since you gave birth and while you loved her for it just because you gave birth didn't mean you were no longer a functioning adult. You'd been picking petty arguments since your third trimester which you always felt bad for. It was the hormones combined with being put on bedrest so you didn't get to do your job combined with sexual frustration since the doctor said it was no longer safe for intercourse. You sighed as you stepped out of the shower, now with the added insecurities about the changes in your body since pregnancy and child birth you weren't sure you even wanted Wanda to touch you. Ignoring the mirror you dry yourself before wrapping a towel around you. Exiting the bathroom right as your little baby boy woke up with soft cries. You coo at him lifting him out of his crib you lose your towel throwing it over the side in order to hold your baby against your bare chest. You were barely one month postpartum but glad to be past the part where you were in a sense literally wearing a human diaper. Your son instantly calms at the sound of your heart beat as you bounce him lightly moving to sit in your bed you lean against the headboard letting out slightly pained noises as you try and relax your overworked back. You cover your lower half with the blanket already feeling the chill of the room as you begin to hum at your son. You don't hear the door open to focused to the little boy in your arms, getting comfortable as you move him to breast feed. You hiss as he begins to work at your sore nipple but eventually relax becoming accustomed to the pain. You rub his little head of hair softly smiling at him a fullness in your heart only created by the birth of your child as Wanda makes her pressence known.

"You're so beautiful dorogaya." (Dearheart)

You bite back your own insecurities at her comment humming in response. Looking up you meet Wanda's piercing eyes before meeting her lips in a kiss.

"I mean it dorogaya or have you forgotten I can hear your thoughts."

You can't help but frown not used to not being able to keep secrets.

"But...."

"Ah ah ah no buts, you're even more beautiful now than the day we met. Pregnancy and childbirth has given you a glow nothing else can."

You sigh a familiar warmth filling your chest in response to Wanda's love.

"YA tebya lyublyu." (I love you)

You whisper your free hand coming to rub against Wanda's cheek.

"I ya lyublyu tebya. Forever and always." (And I love you)

[atlasofthestaars]

Can you write something where the reader is sick, and their love interest Smoke helps take care of them? Thank you!

NOTE: IM SO SORRY HOW LONG THIS TOOK ANON </3 ITS FINALLY HERE

Tried to make this lighthearted and funny!

Sorry this is really short (or short for how long you waited for this) </3 I wanted to finally get this out and I couldn’t think of much to extend this

SICK DAYS [SMOKE X READER]

Colds were perhaps the worst thing ever.

Okay, you were being dramatic. You’d never admit that outloud, and especially in this state, but you were. They definitely weren’t the worst thing ever, but you loathe being sick. It sucked the life out of you, it made you miserable, and everyone wanted to avoid you. Not to mention, even after the worst is over, you’d be left with sniffles and coughs for an unreasonable amount of time.

Why couldn’t being sick just be a one day deal? It was all too easy to get sick anyways, one tiny mistake then you were suddenly down on your luck and getting sick. It didn’t help that you were staying in possibly the worst place right now to deal with a cold. The Lin Kuei temple was not the best place with its freezing temperatures to recover from a cold. 

Haha, cold. Cruel irony.

Grumbling, you sighed as you pulled the covers over yourself, curling into a tight ball as you closed your eyes. This way, you’d be warmer. And then maybe, just maybe, you could sleep and wake up and suddenly be better. It was definitely wishful thinking, but it was better than nothing.

Sadly, your plan was thwarted in a matter of minutes.

The door of your room opened, shining the light leaking in from the hallway directly on your face. You flinched at the sudden change in light, a frown tugging harder at your lips. It was as if the elder gods were mocking you. They enjoyed your pain, surely. 

You squinted open your eyes, nearly hissing at the light. Your grumpiness was somewhat quelled as you noticed just who was the figure who had decided to disrupt your attempt to hibernate your way into wellness. 

Tomas, the light of your life. Not that he knew it, nor did you ever mention it to him.

You blinked, focusing on his form which was being outlined by the light outside. By the elder gods, it was making him look like an angel. Not that you didn’t think he wasn’t an angel already, but now he especially looked like one. Especially when you spotted the things he was carrying in his hands.

Water and soup. 

Nevermind, maybe the elder gods were blessing you today. Maybe they pitied your sickly state, so they sent an angel to nurse you back to health. Surely that must be it.

“Are you feeling better?” Tomas asked as he set down the bowl of soup and water on the nightstand. He then knelt next to your bed. You tried to take a sniff of the soup, before remembering sorrowfully that your nostrils were clogged. You mourned the loss of smell, suddenly. 

“I think I’m dying.” You croaked out, using your status as a sick person to be even more dramatic than usual. It was a treat to yourself, to help you cope with your status. You groaned as you shifted in bed, wanting the pain of being sick to end already. You glanced at the soup and water, before glancing back at Smoke to see his reaction.

“You wouldn’t be dying if you didn’t go out in the snow like I warned you not to.” Tomas chided you, yet at the same time he had a smile on his face, and a playful note to his voice. You stared at his face, making sure to commit it to memory. It was going to be one of the few things that was going to get you through this sickness.

Or the last thing you remembered before you passed away from this illness like a sickly Victorian child.

“Well I’m not a coward.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you recalled how you had brazenly rushed out into the snow. You were too overjoyed by the snowfall to bundle up. Plus, you weren’t out there for too long, you assumed nothing was going to happen to you.

Maybe pride was your downfall. 

“But you are sick now.” Tomas quipped back, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his point. You grumbled, not thinking of a proper comeback to his statement. You blinked in surprise as you felt his hand brush over your forehead. You were glad your face was already flushed from sickness so your blush didn’t stick out. “Seems you don’t have a fever.” 

“Yeah.” You said, stunned for a moment as you recalled his gentle touch as he retracted his hand. You didn’t care how warm your sickness was making you feel, you missed the soft warmth from his hand. You cleared your throat as you glanced at the bowl. “So, what type of soup did you bring?” You asked, all too curious.

You were shocked to hear it was your favorite soup. He had brought you your favorite soup when you were sick to make you feel better. You closed your eyes for a second, to thank the elder gods above that you had met this man.

If it weren’t for your sickness, you’d kiss the man.

That, and well, you were too much of a coward to tell him your feelings. 

“Did you hear me?” You were taken out of your stupor, looking at the man as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall if you had processed what he said. You were thankful he was patient as he repeated himself. “Are you well enough to feed yourself?”

“What.”

“Come on, sit up.” He urged you. Confused, you sat up. You reached out to grab the stack of tissues on your nightstand and blew into it. While you didn’t find it dignified to blow your stuffy nose in front of your crush, you found it was far less embarrassing than to drip snot in front of him. You grimaced as you tossed the tissue into the trash can. As you looked up, you were surprised to see a spoon of your favorite soup hovering in front of your face. “Here.”

“Huh.” You said, dumbfounded. Maybe the sickness was taking your intelligence too, because it felt like right now all you could muster were confused sounds and words. You blinked as you watched Tomas nod towards you, gently lifting the spoon closer to your mouth. Panicking, you leaned forward and ate the soup.

How is it that him being here made your favorite soup just a bit better?

“Good.” Tomas praised, and you felt yourself flush at the simple word. Does he know how much you adored him? No, and you doubted how much even these simple actions meant to you. Happily, he seemed to urge you to eat more, and you complied. You were not going to pass up on this opportunity to bask in his attention. “You know, I worry for you, sometimes. No one in their right mind would normally run into the snow like that.”

“I’m not a fragile baby.” You huffed stubbornly, sniffing. Yet on the inside you were fawning. He worried for you. Maybe it’s because he thought you were insane, but he worried for you! That had to mean something, right? The gray clad man shot you a look, and you pouted. “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh.” Smoke replied, sass in his tone. Still, he gave you a radiant smile as he continued to feed you soup. You felt on top of the world. If only you didn’t feel miserable otherwise, you’d consider getting sick more often so you could bask in his attention.

You glanced at Smoke’s face.

Nevermind, you would gladly trade your health if you could continue to be pampered by this man.

You had several blissful minutes of Smoke feeding you soup. As you finished the bowl, he let out a satisfied hum as he set the emptied bowl on the nightstand next to you. You also drank more from the glass of water he brought.

You were feeling a bit better already! Or maybe that was just the effect Smoke had on you. You weren’t certain which one it was. Maybe it was both.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Tomas said, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You were so, so lucky to know this man. You inhaled, holding your breath as he pressed his hand to your forehead again. His touch lingered longer this time. And you weren’t sure if you were being delusional or not when you swore his thumb brushed your cheek. “Good, no fever.” He murmured, though you weren’t sure why he checked again.

Still, with the way he was looking at you, you had no room to question or complain about that. Certainly he just wanted to make sure you were feeling better. 

You sat there, taking in the sight of Tomas. His warm, gray eyes. His nice, fluffy hair that you always had to hold yourself back from playing with. Your eyes traced over his cheekbones down to his chin, and for the most briefest of seconds, you gazed at his lips.

Why did you have to be sick!?

“Did you take any medicine yet?” He asked, peering at you curiously. You froze, completely forgetting that medicine was a thing. You had just been planning on honestly sleeping this stupid sickness off. Medicine would have definitely helped.

“Uh, no.” You admit, sheepishly. You watched as Smoke playfully rolled his eyes before pulling out a small bottle from his pocket. 

“Good thing I brought some for you.” Smoke said, an almost smug tone in his voice. He poured out two pills, and glanced at you. “I know you too well.” He shook the bottle in his hand as if to emphasize the point.

There was something all too sweet in his voice that made you want to swoon and fall into his arms.

He held out his hand, the two small pills in his palms. Quickly, you reached for them. You ignored the rising heat to your face as your hand brushed his. You really, really wanted to hold his hand. They felt warm and soft.

You felt his expectant eyes on you as you reached for the last of your water. You popped the two pills in your mouth, and you quickly tilted your head back as you took a mouthful of water. You swiftly swallowed, and you let out a sigh as the pills disappeared into your stomach.

“Thank you, Tomas.” You croaked out, and immediately wanted to slap yourself for. Why did your voice have to give out on you on what was supposed to be such a heartfelt moment? Your worries all melted away as he shot you the most beautiful grin you’ve seen in your life.

“Anything for you.” Tomas said, his voice gentle and soft. He said your name with reverence, as if you were the most important thing. He grabbed your hand. And held it carefully between his own. Your eyes dropped to his hand holding, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You weren’t sure if you could pass off the heat on your cheeks as you simply being sick.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Snapping out of your daze, you looked up to see Smoke’s intent gaze on you. You opened your mouth, trying to come up with the correct answer. You certainly couldn’t say that you were too busy swooning over the man to hear what he said. But you couldn’t just say anything because then it’d be obvious you hadn’t been paying attention.

And yet, it didn’t matter.

“You’re too cute.” Tomas said softly, and you suddenly wondered if you had been dreaming all this all this time. Getting up, he leaned over and gently pressed a featherlight kiss onto your forehead. He then drew back with a soft smile. “Get some rest, okay?” He murmured, cupping your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb against it before letting go.

You watched wordlessly as he gathered the bowl and water glass. He turned around and sent you another sweet smile. And you swore in his eyes he had the hint of the smuggest attitude you’ve ever seen on him as he looked you up and down.

He must know how much you adored him. That bastard.

As the door closed, you sat in silence as your face continued to burn. Your heart was beating far too fast for what was healthy for a sick person. You lifted your hand to brush against where his lips had met your forehead, and you felt like you were falling in love all over.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad.

“Look who’s the reckless one, now?”

You grinned as you entered Tomas’ room, a bowl of soup and a glass of water in your hands. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the eye roll he sent you as he blew his nose. Still, he sent you a weak smile as he laid in his bed. He didn’t catch your sickness as bad as you, but he was still sick regardless. Bumping into the door, you closed it as you approached him.

“Maybe it was reckless, but the look on your face was worth it.” Smoke said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he smiled at you. You scoffed, but you knew you couldn’t even fake being mad at this man. Setting down the bowl of soup and the water, you sat on his bed beside him.

“Was it worth it?” 

“Anything is worth it if it involves you.”

Sighing dreamily, you cupped his cheek as you leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. You marveled as his face bloomed into a soft pink. He held your hand in place, leaning into your soft touch. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t think you should be kissing sick people.” Smoke teased, his eyes squinting at you as his eyebrows raised. You rolled your eyes. Raising your hand, you pinched his other cheek, eliciting an exaggerated ‘ouch’ from the man.

“Says you.” You huffed, pouting. 

“My bad.” Tomas chuckled. “I really couldn’t resist though.” He admitted as he looked up at you. Why did he have to have the dreamiest eyes in all of Earthrealm? You returned his smile, rubbing his cheek gently with your thumb. 

Yeah, getting sick wasn’t so bad after all.

[babybemydownfall]

things that shimmer in the dark Part I: Feyre ( Part II ) After their visit to the Weaver's Cottage, Feyre needs a bath - and a friend. But two lonely souls can only get so close before they collide. NSFW, as always. Notes under the cut. Or read on AO3.

Notes: I wanted to write Feysand's first time, and I was re-reading ACOMAF and this came to life. It's set during chapter 21, after Rhys has flown her back from the House of Wind and filled her a hot bath. He makes her try to enter his mind and then shows her the memory of Ianthe trying to seduce him. Then he disappears - but not in my version. Just that morning, he knelt before her and called her his salvation. But so far, Feyre hasn't flirted with him at all. She's still broken over Tamlin and UTM. So it was quite fun to try and get her from point A to point B in this story... I hope I've managed it. Oh, and there are lots of much-needed apologies. I really hope you enjoy! Part 1 is Feyre's POV. Part 2 will be Rhys...

things that shimmer in the dark part I: Feyre

II

“Rule two,” Rhys finally went on, “be prepared to see things you might not like.”

He started to turn, to leave, but the word came out of my mouth before I could stop it: “Stay.”

He went very still. I watched his gaze slide from me to the bath and back again.

“You can look away,” I went on before he could speak, before he could draw the wrong conclusion. “Or sit right across the room. I just… After this morning, after her… I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

Rhys was completely unreadable. After a very long moment, he said: “Give me five minutes and I’ll be back. One of those bottles-” He waved his hand at the line of potions and soaps alongside the bathtub, “Should make the water opaque.”

I nodded, and he disappeared into thin air.

After I had peeled off my clothes, struggling with the buckles and straps he’d put on me just an hour or two ago, I sank into the hot bath with a blissful groan. I wanted nothing more than peace and quiet but my mind would not be still. The Weaver, the ring, Ianthe… Rhysand. How he flirted and pushed me and pissed me off. How his strong hands had gripped my thighs as he knelt before me. How he had been used, abused, hunted down his entire life…

I had only just remembered to add the contents of one of the bottles, which smelt like lavender and did indeed turn the water milky and soft, when he reappeared in the bedroom. He knocked on the arched doorframe and I invited him in, even as I dipped beneath the water to wet my hair. I still felt disgusting, despite Amren’s cleaning spell.

When I emerged for air, I rubbed my hands over my face and looked at Rhys - who had changed in the time he’d been gone. No more wings or fitted fighting leathers: instead comfortable pants and a loose cotton shirt, black as always. I could see most of his tanned, tattooed chest where he’d left several buttons undone. He sat gracefully on the floor, leaning back against the wall beside sink, just a across from the bathtub. I realised his feet were bare, and that I’d never seen them before. Just like the rest of him, they were unreasonably attractive.

When my gaze eventually travelled up to his face, I briefly noted that the ends of his hair were damp before realising he was smirking at me.

“See something you like?” 

I rested my forearms on the edge of the tub, my chin atop them. “Not particularly. Why are you wet?”

“I took a quick dip too. When I whisked you out of the forest, I got a nice amount of grease on my clothes.”

I grimaced. “That was revolting.”

“It was.”

“There are a lot of monsters in your world, aren’t there?”

“Yes. Does that scare you, Feyre?”

I considered him. Was I scared? Of course. But with Rhys and his Inner Circle by my side, and when I had trained my powers and my body, I could envision a day in the future when I would no longer be so afraid. I only hoped that day didn’t come too late: that I was ready by the time war came to Prythian.

“Yes,” I admitted, unashamed. There was very little he didn’t already know about me, except perhaps the full extent of my brokenness - but after our visit to the Prison, he was learning. And yet I had never, ever felt judged by him.

“Do I scare you?” he asked, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Because I am a monster, too.”

He seemed calm as he watched me but I noticed that he was playing with his fingers, subtly twisting them together in his lap. It was one of the most human things I’d seen him do, and I realised that something about this conversation - or perhaps our current situation - was making him… nervous.

“You aren’t,” I said, my voice firm. “You are many things, but you are not a monster Rhys. I am not scared of you.”

His face softened around the edges, just a bit.

“And I’m sorry,” I went on more softly. “For the memory you shared with me. Ianthe. She shouldn’t have… You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You didn’t deserve...” I couldn’t say the other female’s name. It still made me want to throw up. “Under the mountain - what happened to you. She abused you and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

His violet eyes contained a thousand storms. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and the emotion in his voice made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

I held his gaze, sensing there was so much more he wanted to say, just waiting beneath the surface - like my power, crawling beneath my skin. I didn’t know how he’d survived so much and was still able to smile, to flirt, to live. I was just being dragged along beside him, everything moving so fast I had no time to dwell too much - which I was grateful for, because it was the only thing keeping me from sinking down into oblivion.

But in truth, we still barely knew one another. Over the long span of his life, our few months together in the Night Court were just a speck in time. I suspected he hadn’t opened up to anyone about the horrors he’d endured at her hand, not even his closest friends. So why would he confide in me? Did I even want to know? I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more trauma.

Although… I couldn’t deny that there was something drawing me to Rhys, even though I tried to resist it. It had only been a few months since I’d been with Tamlin after all; about to be married - no, shackled - to a different High Lord.

I finally closed my eyes, shutting out that thought and the self-inflicted insults that followed - trash, harlot, betrayer - before retreating back under the hot water again. Gods, it felt good on my aching muscles. I brushed my fingers through my hair several times, letting it fan out around me before breaking the surface again, taking in a deep breath of air. Then I began to wash it with shampoo, scratching my scalp with my fingernails, trying to rid myself of every last speck of putrid dirt from that awful cottage. I could sense Rhys watching me still as I piled my soapy locks on top of my head and moved on to clean my body with my favourite orange-scented scrub. I didn’t look at him, didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet, but I was pleased he was there. It was like having a friend for company, reassurance - which, I supposed, he was.

The High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful in history. My friend.

When I had scrubbed my limbs, chest and face until the skin was pink and tingling, I finally turned to him, holding up a cloth. “Please can you do my back?” It was an innocent question - I needed to feel completely clean, and the water was deep enough to keep the rest of me hidden.

He didn’t respond for a long time. His impeccable mask was back in place and I had no idea what he was thinking. But when he finally spoke, his voice was far deeper than I was expecting - and it made all the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Feyre. I… don’t think I should.”

“Please? I need to get all the grime off. And anyway, you’ve practically seen me naked before. Many times.”

His eyes burned into mine and I didn’t need to be inside his mind this time to know we were sharing the same memory: of my painted body, barely covered in strips of flimsy material, as I drank and danced for him, losing time and sensation and my dignity.

Rhys didn’t look away as he moved elegantly across the space between us, kneeling up beside me. His hands gripped the edge of the tub so hard that I felt it shake. “I am so sorry, Feyre. I should never have done that to you.”

He was so near I couldn’t see anything but the sorrow and pain in his gaze.

“It’s okay,” I told him honestly. Everything that had happened in that place was fucked up. I had killed innocent Fae. I had died and been Made again. My evenings of embarrassment were so insignificant in comparison.

But Rhys contradicted me. “It’s not okay,” he said forcefully. “I was playing such a dangerous game and we were close - so close - to the end. I knew that you would free us, but I needed to have you near me so I could keep you alive. And I needed Amarantha to keep trusting me, and…” He sighed, his breath caressing my lips. “I needed to make Tamlin angry.”

“Rhys, it’s fine.”

“It’s not. Even though I was desperate, I should never have drugged and humiliated you. I should have found a better way. And I will be sorry for that until the day I die.”

I took in his face, from his sculpted brows to his long straight nose, his sharp cheekbones and the beautiful shape of his mouth. He really was the image of perfection. No sign of the monster he claimed to be - or rather, feared he was.

And then I nodded and said truthfully: “I forgive you.”

His entire being seemed to relax. “Thank you. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.” He took the cloth and lathered it with soap. “Turn around.”

I knelt so that most of my back was out of the water, leaning forward slightly and using my arms to keep my breasts hidden. My eyes fell closed again as he washed me, much more slowly and carefully than I’d expected. Then he asked, “Do you want me to scrub you?” And once I’d said yes, I was even more surprised to feel his hands on me.

Surprised - and aroused.

Mother above. It was like I’d been asleep for the past few months and he was only just waking me up. Firstly he smoothed the scrub over my back, working it in circles with his strong fingers. They moved so confidently over my bare skin, as if he’d done this a thousand times before; as if we were lovers, and my body was his, and this was our norm. It was those unbidden thoughts, alongside his electrifying touch, that made desire plume somewhere deep in my belly. It sank down slowly, like warm honey, settling deliciously between my thighs.

I moaned. I couldn’t help it.

Behind me, I heard Rhys’s breath catch in his throat and I knew - with as much certainty as I knew my own name - that he was turned on too. I wondered if this was why he’d been hesitant to wash me when I’d first asked; if he had suspected what might happen if he did.

But he didn’t stop - and I didn’t want him to.  

Instead he rinsed me off with handfuls of water and then started to work the muscles along my spine and shoulder blades in long, firm strokes. Occasionally he paused over a knot, pressing firmly until it eased, and I tried not to moan again but it felt so good that I was powerless to resist. His fingers and thumb travelled up my neck, briefly kneading out some of the tightness there before he took down my soapy hair and began to massage my scalp. He found all the right pressure points and it was so exquisite that I leaned back helplessly into his touch, endless sounds of pleasure now falling unhindered from my lips.

His breathing was rough and uneven; occasionally a soft groan escaped which made my core throb. I could feel the heat of his body radiating towards mine, growing in intensity with every passing minute, every new inch of me that he discovered. And then his hands slowed; he twisted my hair back on top of my head and I thought he was done. But a moment later, I felt his fingertips running feather-light down my back, leaving shivers in their wake. They kept going, slipping below the water to my lower spine, my waist. This was no longer him cleaning me; nor was it a continuation of the massage. He was exploring - and I was letting him. I was enjoying him.

When he trailed his touch up my sides to my ribcage, my arms lifted of their own accord, leaving my breasts exposed, unprotected - as if my body knew what it needed long before my mind. If he were to slide his hands forwards just a few inches, he would be holding them. They ached at the very thought, and I stopped breathing altogether. I had never wanted anything as much in my entire life as I wanted him in that moment.

Rhys.

My friend. My saviour, in so many ways. We were both so similar - damaged, broken, alone. Perhaps we both needed this. Perhaps we both deserved to be distracted, to have something good in amongst all the badness of the world.

He finally took his hands away and I was aware of him sitting back, putting space between us. He didn’t say a word. I rinsed off my hair and looked around to find he’d gone. But I could feel him through the bond, just the other side of the door. Giving me privacy to get out of the bath. And maybe to come up with an excuse to leave, to reject me.

I wouldn’t blame him. I was damaged goods: empty on the inside, and a murderer to boot. And probably still in love with his immortal enemy, although I doubted for much longer. Those feelings were falling away by the day.

Freeing me.

The water sloshed as I stood and wrapped my hair and body in a towel each. I climbed out of the bath and brushed my teeth, studying at my face in the mirror. My skin was still flushed from the heat and the scrub; my nose and cheeks freckled by the sun. My blue-grey eyes were, for once, not dull and hollow but bright - alive. From the outside I didn’t look broken at all. I looked healthy. Beautiful, even. And just a few feet away was a staggeringly handsome male who liked me, who called me his darling and annoyed me on purpose and flirted with me… And gods, when he did, I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t feel empty. I felt… like myself. For the first time in a very long time.

And so I rinsed my mouth, ran my fingers briefly through my damp hair and tugged on the bond. Come here.

In a matter of seconds, he was standing in the doorway. He was the most unsure I had ever seen him, and it made me brave.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello.” He looked so wary, like I was a dangerous animal. Maybe that’s how I felt to him.

Maybe I was.

I watched him as he watched my hands go to my chest, where my towel was tucked in to keep it secure.  

“What would happen,” I said, softly but surely, “If I let this fall to the floor?”

Rhys swallowed. His eyes rose to mine and they were extraordinary: pure starlight and lust. I had seen his bedroom eyes before, when he was being playful and teasing - and I suspected so had many, many females before me. But this was different. I felt like I was looking all the way into his soul. And somehow, I knew that he had never shown himself like this to anyone else before; that I was the first, and only.

As to why, I had no idea. But I didn’t want to wait and find out. I wanted him.

“I am lonely, Rhys.”

I stepped forwards. He didn’t recoil, just stared at me, breathing hard. I continued until there was only a hand’s breadth separating us, so I had to tilt my face up to keep looking at him. “I’m sick of feeling so lonely, all the time. Aren’t you? Just for a while, wouldn’t it be nice to feel something else? To feel good? Don’t you think we deserve that?”

The air between us was hot and heavy; one spark and it would be ablaze. I could hear his heart beating hard beneath his ribs, just as mine was.

It felt like an eternity until he spoke. And when he did, his expression changed - he suddenly looked just as broken as his voice was.

“I am lonely, Feyre. So lonely. And I am sick of it too.”

II

Part II coming soon...

[instexcamera]

Hii hii hello!!!

Can i request annoyed and stressed out Ibara brat taming reader and using them as a cum dumpster/stress reliever till their just filled to the brim w cum please...

Pairing: Brat Tamer!Ibara x Afab/GN pronouns!Reader

Warnings: Mean dom Ibara, hairpulling, degradation, over stimulaton, edging, he slaps you in the face like once, very small amount of fingering, unprotected sex/creampie, stomach bulge

A/N: ahhh, I'm so so sorry this took forever to be replied to! I got super busy these past few days and was just finally able to write this! I hope you enjoy it, I also took some inspiration from that anon a while ago who talked about wearing a pencil skirt for easier access

Word Count: 2.1k

18+ under this point

The paperwork you were carrying was piled so high in your arms you were afraid of dropping it. It didn't help that you could barely see what was in front of you. Having to keep your head turned to the side, peering around the giant stack. Even then it was still hard to see, you were hoping no one would bump into you.

Sometimes you regret being Ibara Saegusa's secretary. When you had first taken the job you thought it would be laid back. You hadn't expected he would find ways to constantly keep you busy, making you run errands to other offices to ask them where their presentations were. Or he would ask you to run paperwork down to other offices, or make you run them back up to him. He might have something that needed to be read and confirmed that wasn't important to him so he made you read it instead, only contacting him if the notice was urgent.

This time he had ordered you to go and collect some important paperwork concerning his group, Eden, and a live they had scheduled months before. What you could make out from his frantic rambling was the stage he had booked for the live was being taken back before the date and they were requiring him to send in more payments if he wanted to keep it. Along with that he had issues regarding some idols under CosPro getting into scandals which needed to be resolved.

Upon reaching his office door without dropping anything you wonder what his next request would be. Hopefully something easy, such as making him a coffee, or even reading over a few documents. Knocking on the door as best you could with the papers, hoping that they wouldn't topple over now that you had made it. A strangled "come in '' sounds from behind, muffled since his office was slightly soundproof.

Struggling to push down the door handle, you manage to open the door, walking in and setting down the stack on the first table you could reach. The strain on your arms immediately leaves, feeling much lighter now that you had set the papers down. Before you turn and face Ibara, who you could hear muttering unintelligibly to himself, you mentally prepare. He was stressed, you could since he almost never talked to himself. He was sure to give you some unreasonable task that would take hours to complete.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, smoothing out your skirt before you turn around, ready to ask what the next task he needed from you was. The words die on your lips when you see him. You've never seen him like this, even when he was stressed before it never affected his appearance quite like now. He sits hunched at his desk, head resting in his hands. His magenta hair is messy, glasses askew, and shirt wrinkly. He doesn't even seem to see you, eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead, too lost in his worries.

The sight of him like this scared you a little, it was unlike Ibara to get like this, even under heavy stress. Taking a tentative step towards him, wondering if there was something you could do, even though you had complained about the work he assigned you moments before. But you would take on any work if it meant Ibara would go back to his regular commanding self, not this stressed filled person who doesn't even know you're in the room with him.

Taking another step, wondering if calling out to him would help. "Sir?" His eyes immediately focus on you, snapping him out of his mind. "Ah, I apologize, I didn't realize you had returned from your errand." Even though he had told you to come in, it appeared that was an unconscious act. That worried you even more, Ibara did everything for a reason and an unconscious act from him was unsettling.

He leans back in his chair, still visibly stressed but trying not to show it to you. You continue standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring down at the floor. You hear him clear his throat, "Please, come sit down, I have an, ah, unusual request to make of you this time." You don't know why, but a feeling of uneasiness rolls through you. Taking small steps towards the chair across his desk, wondering what he would ask. An unusual request might mean anything, such as doing finances, which he took great pride in.

Sitting down in the chair, being cautious of the way you sat, your pencil skirt hiking up around your thighs. Grateful the desk was between you, if it wasn't he was sure to get a great view of how the skirt hugs the tops of your thighs, too short to properly cover you. You sit patiently once you settle yourself in the chair, waiting for him to start speaking. Ibara doesn't say anything right away, just staring into your face, causing you to squirm under his gaze.

Eventually he says something, his face a light shade of red, "I apologize for this inconvenient request, but um, could I perhaps have sex with you? I know it's an unlawful request to make of a secretary, I am under a lot of stress and do not have a proper outlet to vent my worries out on." Ibara's face reddens even more as he asks this, fixing his crooked glasses as an excuse to avoid looking at you.

You didn't know what to make of this, your first reaction being to laugh, thinking he was playing some type of prank on you. However one look at his face, staring at his lap in shame is enough to convince you he's serious. Quickly thinking it through, awkward silence filling the room as you debate this. Finally coming to a conclusion.

------------------------------------------------

Bent over Ibara's desk, skirt hiked up your ass, one of his hands tangled in your hair, pressing your face into the smooth wood. Other hand gripping your waist painfully, sure to leave a bruise later. His mouth right next to your ear, you pick up every small grunt and moan he lets out. His hips positioning fast into your hole, lewd slick slapping sounds reaching your ears every time he thrusts in. Your hands attempt to find purchase on the desk, on anything you could hold, yet finding nothing.

Allowing him to take you like this made you burn in shame. The request he had asked had shocked you, making you accept without really thinking of the consequences. Except now you couldn't really back out, not that you wanted too, the way he had you, forcing you into submission so easily. Not that you would ever admit it to him, he could already use this as blackmail.

A particularly hard thrust hit right into that spot inside you which caused you to jolt back to the present. Tightening around his length as if to keep him pulled in, you could feel something in your stomach start to snap ever so slowly. This fact didn't go unnoticed by Ibara who decided to lean back up, using your hair as something to force you up with him. The new position he puts you in causes his cock to slide in deeper, making repressed moans make their way out of your mouth.

"Are you really just a cock-drunk whore who was waiting for me to ask to fuck you like this?" You hadn't expected him to talk, only thinking he was going to use your body as he pleased. You couldn't deny the arousal his talk brought to you, shaking your head and whimpering small nos. However the way you were clenching down on him with slick dripping down his cock said otherwise. "No? You're not? How surprising, the way your hole's trying to keep me in doesn't say you aren't."

Still shaking your head no, the hand in your hair tugs once more before leaving and running down your body, stopping at your chest. He brings his hand to play roughly with your nipple, pulling and pinching at it. A whimper leaves you, tears starting to pool in your eyes. Ibara only laughs, continuing his ministrations, a few more seconds, and Ibara's letting out groans and you can feel him spilling inside of you.

His cum is warm inside you, the feeling almost making you orgasm yourself, until he pulls himself off you, dropping you against the desk. Your chest hits his desk hard, pain blooming from where you hit. The loss of your orgasm and the cruelness of his actions causes the tears to fall. You could feel his cum seeping out of you, slowly running down your thigh.

You could hear stifled laughs coming from Ibara, the thought of him seeing you so weak and pathetic with his cum dripping out of you causing rage to build up. But you don't get the chance to confront him as he suddenly yanks you around, forcing you to face him. The smirk he has on his face annoys you, he was getting off on your suffering, his still-hard cock enough to prove it.

However you don't get a chance to say anything as he rubs his tip against your clit, drawing a pitiful whine from you. Collecting your slick and his spend from before he slides himself all the way to the hilt easily, laughing at the wanton moan that forces itself out of you. He doesn't move, just stays buried inside you, plugging his cum from dripping out.

"Admit you're a slut for my cock and you'll get to cum." His words were appealing, with the way he made you feel so full. The need to cum was agonizing, but you couldn't beg for it, your pride still too great. "I'm not a slut, maybe you're one, with the way you practically begged to fuck me, I wouldn't-"

A harsh slap to the face cuts you off, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting. "Be quiet. I didn't ask you to tell lies to make yourself wetter, I told you to tell the truth." He starts rutting into you at a fast pace, his magenta hair falling over his eyes, making his expression harder to read. Not as if you were paying attention to it, too focused on the drag of his cock against your walls, fucking his cum farther into you.

He lifts you into a sitting position on his desk, burying himself into you once again, the familiar warm feeling as he fills you up causes your back to arch. Yet he pulls out once again, using his fingers to plug up his cum, keeping it from spilling out. You can barely comprehend anything he does now, too upset over the loss of two orgasms. "Admit you're my personal cumdump, always at the ready and opening a slutty hole to me whenever I want it."

Focusing your eyes on him, a smirk you just want to wipe off his face the first thing you see. You have half a mine to disobey him, but if you did, you knew there would be no chance of a release. Sucking up your pride and closing your eyes, you mumble out "I'm your own personal whore." When the pressure of his fingers inside you leave, being replaced by the tip of his cock you open your eyes. "Speak louder bitch, I didn't quite catch everything you said."

You knew he did, the way he was looking at you said it, he was just being mean. But the feeling of him pressing into you, the prospect of finally getting to release makes you give in. "I'm your own personal office cumdump Saegusa Sir, use me like-" He doesn't let you get the words out, starting up at a rough pace. Your sentence dies on your lips, being replaced by a high pitched moan.

His cock combined with his spend inside of you making you feel full. You were sure if you looked down you would see a bulge forming in your stomach whenever he pressed in. And sure enough there was, throwing your head back at the sight as you finally released, your orgasm taking a lot out of you. Clamping down on his cock, hearing a hiss come from his throat at the warmth and tightness as he orgasms once again.

You don't think you could hold much more, your combined releases sliding down his cock and dripping onto his desk and floor, yet his pace doesn't stop. Now that he's had you admit you're a whore he doesn't plan to stop. Over stimulation starts to set in, the pleasure turning into a little bit of pain.

When Ibara hits that sensitive spot inside you another orgasm rocks you by surprise, having you squirt around his cock. His only response is a grunt. You didn't know when he was going to stop, you just knew it wasn't any time soon and all you could do was take what he was giving you now.

[maxislvt]

Would you write reader x cheerleader!wanda where it’s her first time and although she’s mean at the start she’s all soft and cuddly by the end 🥰🥰

warnings: pet names (pup, mutt, pet), degradation, praise, reader has a penis but no gendered terms, loss of virginity, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of birth control, have fun with this mega cock I gave you on accident

"You brute! Can you at least pretend to know what you're doing?" Wanda hissed as her back hit the bed. She would've bounced back up if it weren't for you already on top of her. "Your hands are sweaty, calm down!" She wrapped her arms around your neck. Her eyebrows shot up at the feeling of something hard poking against her."Are you hard already?"

A blush spread across your face in embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry! You're just really pretty and I'm nervous…" The sweat on your palms was almost thick enough to rub off and stain your girlfriend's uniform. For a moment, you just sat there. Staring down at your girlfriend with the biggest tent in your shorts. You couldn't think. If you did, it was only about how pretty she looked in her uniform. "Wait, uh, are you sure about doing this in your uniform? I don't wanna get it…y'know dirty."

"I don't remember saying you'd be pulling out," Wanda said firmly before pulling you into a harsh kiss. She grinded against your bulge making you whimper and squirm. It quickly turned into a game of chase. Her hips would roll forward only for yours to twitch and move away. Wanda let out a frustrated groan and wrapped her legs around your waist. "If you keep moving away, I'll leave you with blue balls!" Wanda wasn't always so cruel during intimate moments, but this one was supposed to be special. Taking each other's virginity was a big deal and she wanted it to be perfect. It couldn't be that when you were seconds away from running with your tail between your legs. "Just sit still."

"I don't know what to do! You being mean isn't helping that!" In your frustration, you forgot how poorly Wanda responded to your talk back. Mostly because it was uncharacteristic of you, but also because she couldn't stand it. To Wanda, you were like a lap dog and good dogs don't talk back to their owners. She didn't even give you time to apologize before rolling you over. Part of you wanted to clap back at her for her aggression, but she was already pulling your shorts down before you caught your breath. "Fuck, that feels good."

Wanda hummed with the tip of your dick in her mouth. You were far too big for her inexperienced mouth, but she just needed you to be wet enough for it not to hurt. It was embarrassing to admit, but she'd done a lot of research. Wanda spent a near unreasonable amount of time learning to handle you in bed. "I bet the whole school would flip if they knew their star player was a sex hungry mutt."

You shivered, but managed to keep your hips still. It always confused you why Wanda's cruelty was so arousing. Sure, you preferred her gentle kisses and soft praise, but none of that mattered when your precum was smeared on her lips. "I'm not- fuck- I'm not like that! I just want you, I swear." The thoughts were practically melting out of your ears as Wanda continued to suck you off. Her mouth took more of you as she swallowed down your innocence. "Can I touch you, please? I-I don't know what to do with my hands."

Wanda's tough act could never stand a chance against you. You were much too sweet and kind. She released your dick and sighed. "You can hold my hands, but I'm in control. Got it?" She kissed your cheek and positioned herself over your tip. "Next time we're using lube," She whispered. Just your tip alone felt like she was splitting apart. "Hold my hips, come on…" Wanda wrapped her arms around your neck as she slid down your length. "Fuck, wait hold on."

You held onto Wanda like your life depended on it. "You're so tight," You mumbled into the side of her neck. The smell of her shampoo filled your nose and helped you relax. "We can…we can stop if you want. I know it's…big." Being inside Wanda felt heavenly, but you were afraid to hurt her. "We can do it another way- wow!" Wanda had pushed you back down on the bed and began riding you. "Ah, please don't hurt yourself."

Wanda gritted her teeth and forced herself to push through the pain. She reached behind her back and held your hands. "Don't stop me, I'll get used to it." Her breathing faltered, but she continued to move her hips. Her light moans soon joined yours and reverberated across the room. "Fuck, I can feel it throbbing inside me." Tight walls clenched around you, desperate to squeeze every last drop of cum out of you.

"Wanda, I think…fuck I think I'm gonna cum," You wiggled and attempted to pull out, but Wanda's pace was unyielding. "No, seriously! Ah!" She leaned forward, letting you slip deeper inside her. The feel of her heavy breast on top of your chest sent you over the edge. Despite your best efforts, your cum painted the insides of Wanda's cunt. It was the best orgasm you ever had, but the consequences immediately flooded your brain. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm sorry I didn't mean to!" Wanda continued to jump against you until her own orgasm overcame her.

"God, fuck. Don't worry about it," She painted before going limp on top of you. "I'm on the pill. Just relax, being full feels nice." Wanda peppered kisses over your face and nuzzled into your chest. "Just be a good pup or I'll make you wear a collar to practice." Normally, you would've freaked out about your guilty pleasure leaving the walls of Wanda's bedroom. You just relaxed and let out a deep breath.

You wrapped your arms around Wanda and let the sleepiness overcome you. "...Can you stay on it? I liked not using a condom…"

"If you can give me another round, I'll consider."

[foundry-fabrications]

Roguish Archetype: Opportunist

Hey folks! This took an unreasonable amount of time to get done. I’ve returned to my roots for an easy project with a conversion of a Pathfinder prestige class. Writing it out was pretty simple, but it took forever to get with my brew buddy to get it looked at due to some unfortunate circumstances that I won’t elaborate on for privacy reasons. But then it took even longer to get the final…

[valentinoappreciator]

I sent this request to someone else a while ago, but I'm fucking obsessed with the concept.

Can I request Valentino smut when he sees that one of his best stars has gotten her clit pierced?

Oh godddd, this one got me GOOD.... I'll admit I wasn't too hooked on the idea at first, but then I started writing, and the words just... would not stop coming 👀 so, thank you, dearest anon, for sending me this request 🙏

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Valentino / female reader

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: E for Explicit

Where else to read: AO3, under the username TheWeirdDane and the title Drabble 3 - Piercing. yes, the creativity knows no bounds.

Tags: piercing (nothing mentioned about the actual procedure), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (light) overstimulation, valentino being a simp for one of his best girls

Author's notes: I looked up clitoris piercings for the sake of this drabble, and now I want a HCH piercing.... what on EARTH!!

------------------------

The pain was unbearable at first. Luckily, you healed fast. A couple of weeks later, and the piercing was all healed. During those weeks, you hadn’t stopped working, of course. You had, however, asked your boss - the famous, or infamous, depending on where you stood, mister Valentino - if you could work the pole instead of in front of the cameras or on the streets. 

Valentino was a generous boss - if you did your job well. Meet his standards and exceed his expectations, and you could get away with a surprising amount of stuff. So, of course, being one of his best girls, he indulged you, allowing you to work on one of the main stages of his primary club. 

“Of course, baby. Daddy’s not unreasonable.”

You had soon realized, however, that this might not have been the best plan. Stripping meant grinding against the pole and the patrons. Grinding meant disturbing the healing of the piercing. Disturbing the healing meant it took even longer. 

But in the end, it was perfectly healed, and you could return to escorting and starring in pornos. 

Your first time in front of the camera after getting your clit pierced, you were nervous. You hadn’t told Valentino about the new piercing, but to be fair, you hadn’t told anyone. It had been... kind of a spur of the moment idea. 

Shedding your clothes sensually until you were completely naked, you lidded your eyes halfway and looked at your fellow porn actor, purring sultrily. His gaze licked over your body, drinking you in, and just as he saw the small, but shiny piece of jewelry nestled above your labia, he bit his lower lip. 

“And they say perfection can’t be improved,” he grinned.

About to devour you, Valentino was faster. 

“Cut!” he shouted. 

Everybody immediately stopped moving. 

Your co-star glanced over at him, before looking at you again, a flicker of nervousness in his green eyes. You patted his arm soothingly. 

“Don’t worry. It’s probably not your skin he’s after.”

He nodded, but still couldn’t help flinching when Valentino got out of his director’s chair and strolled towards the two of you. 

“Aww, are ya scared, sugar?”

Nod.

“Good. That means you respect me.” He grinned widely at the poor actor, before turning his attention to you. “Now, doll. It seems something is... different, about you.”

You started sweating bullets, and not at all due to the sharp lights in the studio. 

“Did you get your hair cut?” he asked and wound a few fingers through your long locks. You couldn’t help a giggle. Whether from nerves, or bashfulness, you weren’t quite sure. Maybe a combination? Yeah, that seemed plausible. 

You shook your head. 

“Did you get new contacts?” he then asked. Despite wearing his iconic glasses, which obscured his eyes somewhat, it was clear that he was staring straight into your eyes. Your cheeks heated up, and you were suddenly supremely uncomfortable in your own skin. 

You shook your head again. 

“Did you get new nails?” he tried, taking one of your hands in one of his to examine your fingertips. They were done up in a bright purple nail polish with gold speckles that glinted sharply. Nothing new there; it was your favorite way to paint your nails.

You shook your head once more. Steadily, you got the feeling that Valentino was just trying to fuck with your head. Well, if he was, it was working; you started shivering. Not a whole lot, but enough that you tensed, and your fingers trembled in his surprisingly tender grasp. 

“How about on your feet, then?” he mused, letting go of your hand to instead let his own slide up towards your shoulder, where it pushed gently, but firmly. The message was clear, and you listened intently, lying down on the comfortable, if overly pillow-ed, bed. 

Your breathing picked up as he settled between your feet. His grin was wide and mischievous. Two hands came down to rest on your ankles and made you shudder, while the other two readied a cigarette in its holder. He snickered. 

He lifted one of your feet and pretended to study your toenails carefully, and although the polish there was new, you had a feeling he knew exactly what was truly different about you. 

You swallowed hard when your eyes met his piercing gaze. 

“No, not that, either,” he said, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Wonder what it is, then.”

You looked down at him, and the breath caught in your throat when his gaze slithered down your body, ending right between your legs, where the piercing was so easily visible. His hands on your ankles tightened. 

Then his eyes flicked upwards, meeting yours, pinning you to the bed. He slowly lowered your ankle to the mattress while at the same time crawling over you. Amazingly enough, he never once let go of the cigarette holder. Blowing the smoke out in a thick, red plume, his grin was so very easy to see through it. 

“Oh, but baby,” he drawled in a sultry purr, and came so close that his knee squeezed between your legs to press against you. You gasped, and became acutely aware of how wet you were. Immediately, embarrassment scorched your cheeks. He laughed, but it sounded... strangely winded. Like he was... struggling, somehow. Maybe all those cigarettes were finally starting to work their, quote-unquote, magic. 

“You didn’t tell daddy about this,” he continued and reached down to fondle you. It happened in a single instant; his long, deft fingers caressed your clit, then flicked the steel ring none-too-kindly, and you let out a sharp gasp. The muscles in your strong thighs flexed. Your hands moved behind your head to grab one of the many pillows.

“S-Sorry, daddy,” you whimpered. His grin filled your vision, now without the cigarette holder held hostage between his lips. But even without it, red smoke coiled from between his sharp teeth and rose towards the ceiling. His fingers began stroking you repeatedly, instead of just playing with the piercing, and you couldn’t help an embarrassing sound. 

“You should be.”

You managed to feel the cold hand of fear around your throat, before he continued in the same breath.

“Because daddy will make you a star for this.”

You pressed your head back into a pillow, moaning at length - and not quietly - when two long fingers buried themselves deep inside you. Fuck, were you seriously so wet already that he could do that so easily? Apparently so, because then Valentino began thrusting his fingers, and there was definitely enough slick to make it loud. 

“Daddy!” you whined, inadvertently clenching around him and making him groan. His gaze was piercing, one eye closed ever so slightly while the other was wide open, as if he wanted to take in as much of you as possible. “Oh fuck, daddy, that... that feels so good!” 

“Yeah? Tell me about it, dollface,” he purred, but even though he had fingered you countless times, you had never heard his voice this tight or this out of breath. Like he was running a marathon. 

Something wasn’t... well, normal might be the wrong word, what with being in Hell and all, but it was the closest you could come at the moment. 

“Your fingers are so deep inside me,” you whimpered, spreading your legs wider to give him better access, and maybe, just maybe, also just so that he could easier see and play with the piercing - should he fancy that. 

Valentino visibly shuddered. You were so surprised that you just stared up at him for a second or two, before remembering how to breathe. He looked at you almost violently, and the hardness of his gaze clearly said that if you mentioned this to anyone, he would put a holy bullet in your brain and drop you into a river somewhere. 

You nodded, as if he had actually said it. He grinned. 

“Daddy,” you croaked again, trembling all over. Your breath was coming in sharp, fast puffs of air. You were so lost in the pleasure that seared your veins that you couldn’t control the next words leaving your mouth. 

“Do you like it, daddy?”

The entire studio took a sharp, collective breath. 

Valentino grinned down at you, and his fingers withdrew to fondle the piercing again. 

“Oh, this little thing?” he purred, flicking the ring once more and sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You cried out, your entire body twitching. Ever since you got your clit pierced, sensations had been heightened. You felt everything so much stronger, so much more intensely - pleasure included. 

“It’s quite the eye-catcher, baby,” he snickered. He began kissing your cheek and neck, then your collar bones and sternum. Each touch of his lips set your skin ablaze, forcing you to release a sound so shrill it sounded like you were in pain. 

It was with a startling realization on your end that Valentino let his long tongue slide around on your stomach, before the long, wonderfully slimy, prehensile muscle slithered down to lick over your clit. Goosebumps instantly covered your body, while a shiver shot down your spine at unprecedented speed. 

Valentino moaned when the tip of his tongue made contact with the metal ring, and he tilted his head slightly, as if preparing to actually eat you out. The final hint to his seriousness, to his dedication, was that he actually took off his glasses.

You inhaled sharply, nearly choking on the air. 

“D-Daddy, you don’t have to---” you began, but he interrupted you. Not with words, but simply by starting to lap at your desperately needy and wet cunt. 

You supposed there was no need to feel ashamed at the fact that your orgasm hit you like a freight truck just a few licks in; he had been taunting and teasing you for what felt like hours. But still, the fact that Valentino could make you unravel with ten licks, tops, was really embarrassing. 

“I know I don’t have to, baby,” he purred, and laid flat against the mattress, wrapped two hands around your thighs and let two hands squeeze your breasts, and began absolutely devouring you. 

The pleasure that had been released with your first orgasm came right back for another round, and you took in a sharp gasp before throwing your head back against the pillow. You cried out, the muscles in your thighs and arms rippling when you tensed in the face of so much pleasure. 

His tongue oscillated between playing with the piercing and playing with your cunt. If there ever had been, there was no longer any doubt in your mind that Valentino loved your new piercing. He practically worshiped it; licking and kissing and sucking, all of it accompanied by the most sinful, pornographic moans and sighs you had ever heard, or had ever made yourself. 

“Oh, daddy, fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you panted, arching your back and instinctively grabbing onto the back of his head when you felt another orgasm approaching so fast you thought you would come right then and there. However, you managed to hold on for a little longer. At least, until Valentino pushed his fingers inside you and began thrusting them - hard and fast. 

From that point on, you could only hang on for dear life and hope that he would let you catch your breath at some point. 

“Daddy, please, you’re gonna make me come again,” you whimpered. Your perfectly manicured nails scratched over his purple skin, and dug in when his fingers curled upwards to press against a delicious spot inside you - while still assaulting your clit with his tongue, of course. With each lick, he nudged the piercing, which sent unimaginable pleasure through you. 

Howling out your euphoria when the third - fourth? Or was it the fifth? - orgasm rippled through you, Valentino snickered breathlessly. 

“That was a good investment, sweetheart,” he purred. His voice was raspy from the amount of fluids, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You simply sagged back against the mattress when the constant, relentless stimulation was finally taken away. You laughed breathlessly and put a hand on your forehead. 

“It sure was,” you giggled, but your voice was somewhat slurred, as if you had been drinking heavily for several hours. “Thank you, daddy, that was... absolutely phenomenal.”

“Only the best for my favorite baby,” he grinned. Warmth spread through your entire body, but primarily your cheeks. They felt like they were burning up. 

Reaching under one of the pillows, you pulled out a towel and bashfully handed it to him. 

“You... uh, you got something on your face,” you giggled. Valentino laughed and took the towel, wiping his face clean before throwing it to the floor. 

“Thanks, sugar. You’re such a doll. That’s why you’re one of my best girls.” 

[eriexplosion]

I never let myself really believe they'd bring Tech back (because Occam's razor, or whatever). And I'm so used to weird/bad writing choices from other works that I'm mostly able to shrug my shoulders and go "aw rats, disappointment again :\" about TBB's ending.

... But I still feel kinda hollowed-out, post-finale. I'm not autistic (I think), but my sibling is, so it meant something to my old withered heart that a Star Wars show about family would have a confirmedly-ND character among their cast (though, somewhat tangentially, I agree with your post about all of the Bad Batch being arguably ND-coded). I was delighted that he was well-written, and that he'd eclipsed the stock "smart guy" trope he'd started out as in TCW.

And, I dunno. I feel like a sucker, having hoped for a brief moment that the writers wouldn't throw all that away. And for what? People on reddit were saying for months on end that "his sacrifice is meaningful and shouldn't be wasted", but I can't agree. I think it would've been more meaningful had he lived.

I feel disappointed with the trajectory the back half of S3 took, and I don't think that's unreasonable. Even beyond the disappointment of "dang, they really did that?", S3 after the first handful of eps (imo) felt kind of... rushed? Underexplored? Like there should've been a season 4 (for pacing/development's sake) and various changes to the plot, but there weren't.

Told myself several years ago that I'd reserve judgment for the writing until the series was over and done with. And now that it's all just wrapped up, I suppose I'm stewing with my thoughts, a little. The character arcs all feel like they fell short of their potential payoff, to me -- and maybe I'll change my mind in a few months, but right now? Eh.

Crosshair's got PTSD/trauma that makes his hand shake? Cut off the hand. Omega's got potential force sensitivity/a decision to make concerning what to do going forward? Who cares about that. Tech's getting a decent (and suspicious, in hindsight) amount of character development? Better kill him off so the audience really feels the sting. Cid, Phee, CX-2, Echo, Scorch? Who cares about them; they can show up when their skills are needed and fuck off without halfway-decent closure when they aren't. The familial/sibling themes that were open to being explored? Eh; let's focus predominantly on this one father-child bond. Omega doesn't even need to say goodbye to Crosshair and Wrecker, lol. Foreshadowing and setup? What foreshadowing and setup.

... I'm realizing that I'm actually Quite disappointed lmao. In a lackluster "I don't know what I expected" kind of way. Time to read so many fix-its

There's just a lot that was set up that never came to fruition and it's frustrating when the show has been so good up until that point. And the thing is that Tech being CX-2 would have resolved at least some of it! The CX-2 plot obviously but also, Crosshair's guilt and trauma being helped by being able to fix at least one of his mistakes? Omega's guilt over putting her family in danger being relieved because she finally has them all back?

It didn't even need to be fleshed out, I wouldn't have cared. The only thing I wanted this whole show was the family to be together and complete. And not only did we not get Tech back but yeah Echo was basically just not counted as part of that and Phee was ignored in the end.

This season feels like it needed another editing pass to work as a whole, even though I'd liked everything up to the finale it didn't really end up coming together for me. I'd even have accepted Tech being gone if they had put actual mourning in the first half, instead of stringing it along with little mentions and the CX-2 stuff. I'd be frustrated and mad, but at least it would have felt like they respected him as a character.

Really the only good things I have to say is I think Nala Se blowing up the databanks was a fantastic end to her character that didn't really redeem everything she's done but did bring her to an interesting stopping point. And I am glad everyone else made it out alive. I'm glad that Crosshair especially did after everything he's been through, he's still my boy after all this time even if the Tech stuff has overshadowed a lot of his growth in my head.

[just-horrible-things]

Blue

Have you ever been on a plane bound west, and flown out from the night-shadow of the Earth back into the daylight, even though your body still believes it to be the dead of night? The effect is magical and somewhat eerie – sunrise at midnight, an impossibility made possible by the wonders of modern transportation.

Aeroplanes have always been a little magical to me. I love the moment of take-off, when the wheels come off the tarmac and you feel the lift – the implausible transition from the familiar rumble of a road vehicle – albeit a very very large and very very fast one – to flight, true flight.

Landing brings – in balance – a certain disappointment. Although I am usually as eager as the next person to get off the plane and onward to my next destination, there is still a kind of a pang at touchdown. We leave the domain of the skies and gravity reasserts itself, rendering us earthbound once more.

The plane in question departed at 23:47 local time – only ten minutes after its scheduled departure, so not bad going. Being early spring it was by then quite dark outside, and we took off with cabin lights dimmed and the false promise of sleep in the air.

Bearing almost directly westward, it wasn’t long before the sky outside began to lighten again – someone’s evening becoming our dawn as the clocks turned back. Being a peculiar sort of romantic, I watched the sky avidly as we pursued the recently-set Sun over the horizon, hoping to see it rise again ahead of us.

As I was seated in the middle of my row, this involved a certain amount of craning my head to see past the woman in the window seat. And while people on planes are usually quite understanding of the desire to see out of the window, there is still a certain degree of awkwardness. We laughed about it as one does to clear embarrassment from the air, and from there we were sort of obliged to speak to one another.

She told me that she would swap with me if it weren’t for her air-sickness, and I told her that it was no problem. She mentioned that her family tease her for taking long haul flights anyway, and told me that she was visiting her parents. I spoke briefly about the convention I was attending, we diverted into a brief tangent on anime due to a misunderstanding, introductions were made – her name was Aisyah, which took me a couple of attempts to pronounce correctly – and then we got to talking about my career.

(In the end we didn’t get to see the sun rise in the west, as the nose of the plane thoroughly obstructed our view. Alas.)

I normally try to avoid talking much about my writing, as it seems a little conceited and I’m very conscious of the temptation to ramble well beyond the point of anyone else’s interest in the details of a fictional economy or public transport network. But Aisyah was exceedingly curious about the genre and I must admit I allowed myself to be drawn into a rather self-aggrandising discussion of my works and process.

It was in the middle of this discussion that the bell preceding an announcement chimed, and the senior flight attendant’s voice came over the speakers asking if there were any meteorologists aboard.

As someone who understands what a meteorologist studies, this was somewhat concerning to me. 

Aisyah and I shared a look, and then I instinctively looked to the window. By this point Aisyah had somewhat rotated in her seat to make conversation more comfortable, and all I could see over her shoulder was a slice of clear blue sky.

I joked, uncomfortably, about expecting turbulence, and then we returned to our conversation – which at the time I think was about the sliding scale between hard and soft sci fi.

Shortly thereafter, a second announcement was made, this time asking for any scientists aboard – particularly if working in the physical sciences – to please made themselves known to the cabin crew.

This, I think not unreasonably, was rather unsettling to me.

“Why would they need a scientist?” Aisyah asked. “Don’t they usually ask for a doctor?” “In movies, sure,” I responded, “I don’t know if they do that in real life.” But I had no answer to her first, more important question.

We looked around the cabin. A number of other passengers seemed similarly concerned and perplexed, but most were still absorbed in whatever distraction they had brought aboard – screens and books and magazines. A few were successfully sleeping, despite the daylight.

When the announcement was repeated, Aisyah reached up and pushed the call button above our heads.

“You didn’t tell me you worked in science. What do you study?” She laughed – in retrospect somewhat uncomfortably – made a non-committal sound, and wondered aloud, “What do you think they want?”

It did not take long for a flight attendant to appear. Her customer service smile was absent, replaced by grim gravity. I looked to Aisyah expectantly, already pressing myself back against my seat to make room for her to get up. But she pointed at me.

“Me? Oh, no, I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding,” I said. “I mean, I have an undergrad degree in physics but that was a decade ago – I’m an author. I write fiction.” “He’s very knowledgeable,” Aisyah argued. “He writes science fiction, and he reads research papers for all of the science. He’s very nearly a scientist.”

The flight attendant’s lips pressed together in an – understandably! – unimpressed line. She looked up and down the cabin. I looked up and down the cabin. There was a distinct absence of lit call signals, or other attendants speaking to specific passengers as if they had been called. 

I could only see one guy at the front speaking to a rather agitated-looking passenger. He met his colleague’s eyes and did a little grimace and a tiny headshake that I took to mean that his passenger wasn’t a good candidate either.

“Are you?” the attendant said to me, “Very nearly a scientist?” “I mean, I guess I’m well read, I’d consider my grasp of the fundamentals pretty solid…” “And you studied physics?” “Yeah…” “I suppose you’ll do.”

So I followed her up the plane, through the tiny crew area, to the rather solid security doors that separate the pilots from the passengers. 

We were joined as we passed them by the agitated maybe-scientist found by the other flight attendant. He looked about fourteen – though I don’t think he was fourteen, he just had one of those faces that are cursed – or blessed – with looking like teenagers right up until their hair starts to grey. His sense of style reinforced the impression of youth. He had pierced ears and an undercut, and his faded t-shirt bore what I could only assume was the logo of some band I don’t know.

The pilot and co-pilot glanced round as we were ushered into the cockpit. I was surprised by how much space there was, honestly. It was pretty cramped, but there was more space behind the pilots’ seats than I expected. Enough for us two passengers and the one flight attendant to awkwardly squeeze in together. 

I guess the pilots have to be able to get up and stretch their legs every so often.

The captain’s expression was as grim as the attendant’s. There was a slightly wild, haunted cast to her eyes, which did nothing to calm my building unease. She gestured, sharply but expansively, at the windshield – is it called a windshield on an aeroplane? I’m not sure.

Mr. Undercut saw it first. His shocked little “oh” cued me in to the scale of what I was looking for. 

When I saw it, I couldn’t imagine how I didn’t see it instantly. It became searingly obvious, like an optical illusion suddenly snapping into focus, except accompanied by the unpleasant lurching feeling of missing a step on the stairs.

“Where’s the ground?” Mr. Undercut asked. “You’ve identified the crux of the problem,” said the pilot.

As far as the eye could see, there was just open blue sky – a little paler above us, a shade deeper below.

I leant closer to the glass as far as I could, as if imagining that the horizon was merely fractionally out of view beneath the body of the plane. “Are we over the ocean?” I asked, dumbly. I knew we weren’t over the ocean. We weren’t supposed to be over the ocean, at any rate. “No.” 

“Okay,” I said. “Nobody panic.” “Nobody is panicking,” the co-pilot retorted sharply.

“It could be some kind of – attack,” said Undercut. “Someone on the ground aiming something at us that – causes some kind of illusion?” “It seems more likely that it’s some kind of atmospheric effect,” I argued. “What, exactly, are your qualifications?” the co-pilot demanded.

Undercut ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. “I’m doing a PhD in Physical Chemistry,” he admitted. “I have no qualifications,” I said, in a hurry to get that fact out there as soon as possible. “I mean, I have an undergrad degree but – I think we’re the best they could find. I’m widely read. Sorry.” The pilot cast the flight attendant a look of disbelief. “Two hundred passengers,” the co-pilot bemoaned, “and not a single doctorate?” “Sorry,” I repeated.

We stared at the wide open blue in shared discomfort.

“It’s probably some kind of reflection or refraction,” I theorised nervously. “Like a mirage, a temperature differential in the air. Sometimes people on the ground see images floating in the sky of cities or mountains that are hundreds of miles over the horizon –” “Fata Morgana,” the pilot interjected. “Right. Because it refracts – and if the boundary between layers was sharp enough it could even reflect. We’re seeing the sky above us, reflected off a boundary below us. Maybe?” “We thought that,” said the pilot. “What do the instruments say?”

There was a drawn out silence that made me sure before they said anything that what the instruments said was nothing good.

“That’s the other half of the problem,” the pilot ventured grudgingly. “We’ve got no radio, no connection to anyone at all.” “Well.” I swallowed. I was very glad I’m not a nervous flyer. “It could be the same effect, right? The radio waves are bouncing off the same boundary, they can’t reach us.” “We should have a satellite connection,” the co-pilot put in.

I looked up. I’m not sure why a plane needs such a good view of the sky above, but we could certainly see a lot further up than down.

Somewhere up there, the plane should have been able to see the satellites above us. I was struck by the unsettling idea that if it weren’t daylight, there’d be no stars up there either, just unbroken black.

“Hold on,” I said, as I felt that stomach-dropping-out lurching sensation again. “Where’s the sun?”

It should have been directly ahead of us, with the glare in all of our eyes. Instead the light was directionless, like an overcast day but brighter, seeming to come from the whole sky at once and no place in particular.

“Yeah,” said the pilot.

Another silence. I could hear voices from the cabin behind us, the murmur of a lot of people talking at once. 

“Have we… got turned around somehow? Could it be behind us?” “Can’t rule it out. No compass.” “No compass?” That couldn’t be a mirage effect. “No compass.” “It’s not behind us,” the pilot said. “You’d see it on the wings.” “We’ve checked,” the flight attendant added.

She ducked out, then. We heard the raised voices more clearly for a second, with the door open. People had noticed that they couldn't see the ground.

“Some kind of lenticular effect,” Undercut said. He had his phone out and was tapping furiously into what looked at a glance like some kind of notes app. “Yeah,” I agreed. “We’re in a kind of bubble, light and other EM waves are refracting around us. We can’t see the sun or the ground because neither of them are at the right angle.” “Have you heard of anything like that?” asked the pilot. “Anything remotely like that?” “Other than the floating city mirages… no.” “Sun dogs,” Undercut suggested. “It must be a very rare phenomenon. But rare phenomena happen. Someone’s got to be the first to document these things. If we lose altitude we ought to pass below the edge of the effect…”

The hubbub behind us was growing louder. I could hear one man in particular growing louder and more hysterical minute by minute.

The captain flicked a switch, and held up a hand to the rest of us to be quiet.

“This is your captain speaking. As you can see from your windows, we are currently passing through a rare atmospheric phenomenon causing the ground not to be visible from our current position. Please remain calm.

“I have lit the Fasten Seatbelts sign. There is a possibility of sudden turbulence, so please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened, and enjoy the unusual view from the windows. Or, if you are finding it unsettling, simply close your window shutters and wait for it to pass.

“We are about to start descending in order to reach a more favourable layer of air. We are not intending to land, this is likely to be a short descent. We are still three and a half hours from our destination. Once again, please return to your seats and remain calm.”

She exhaled, long and slow, after finishing the announcement. We all listened. The hubbub was no quieter – perhaps even a little louder – but perhaps less agitated and upset. The yelling man had quieted down.

Undercut was still tapping away on his phone.

“I don’t think you can get the refractive index of air high enough,” he said, “to explain this.” “What about reflection?” I asked. “You’d see through it if it was reflection. Like looking at the surface of water.” “Not if it was strong enough.” “I’m not done with the numbers,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t think it’s possible.” “What about contaminants?” I said. “Some… industrial gas in the air, messing with the optical properties…” “Doubtful,” he said. “Diffusion would spread it out pretty fast…” “Diffusion’s weird sometimes. Think haloclines.” “Mh,” he agreed, still tapping. “Can’t rule it out. Yet.”

I felt the subtle shift that told us we’d started our descent. Downward acceleration countering gravity by the tiniest amount. More subtle than the descent of a lift going down, but definitely noticeable.

“You’ll get one hell of a PhD out of this,” I joked. “Whatever the cause.” “In physical chemistry? I don’t think so.” “You’ll have to change to physics.” “Oh hell no.”

“What’s our altitude?” I asked. “Altimeters are out,” the pilot said. “Or at least… the needles aren’t moving.” “Tell me that’s an electronic system,” Undercut said. “Something that can have just, an error…” “The backup is just a barometer. Physical. Detects atmospheric pressure.” “Okay,” I said. “Okay. Well… what do they say our altitude is?” “Ten point two kilometers. Same as before… this.” “And they agree with each other, the different instruments?” “Yes.”

Descent continued. It didn’t feel like much, but I’m no expert and I had no idea how to assess how fast we were descending. Whatever the pilots felt appropriate, I supposed. The conversation had died. Undercut was still buried in his calculations, trying to find a set of conditions that could explain what we were seeing. The rest of us stared, unsettled, into the unbroken blue.

There weren’t even clouds, not even a wisp or a pale haze. Just blue.