#we all thirst for s fucking doll here

[spitinsideme]

I JUST WATCHED TROLLS 2 AND 3 AND POMNI AND FAGATHA ARE LITTERALY THAT ONE COUPLE IN TROLL 3 THEY ARE ACTUALLY BRUCE AND HIS WIFEE!!!! THEY ARE THEM!!!!

first of sll, i want to sy that youre completely right and this is kind of them and secomd of all, i am about to be hormh for trolls 2 world tpur delta the country troll because i need to talk aboitit so badly. im putting a warning now that i am going to he HORNY i will get NSFW !!! i jst neees to get this off my chest i domt.care read at your own risk ive warned yo all

for the record, i love and respext women and i think all women are complex and have so muxb to.them. i also am normal

this womaj right here ... this love of my life .. never ib my life hav ei thought that trolls coukd have sex appeal, i domt look st them and think yeah whatever fuckable because they never have. bit her ? her aura lf sadness, her i take no shit thing, her toughness ... god i get the sex appeal now i fucking get it because i want her so .. so badly ...

i want to.fuckimg RIDE her and i donr even mean her horse side i dont want to ride her like a cowgirl bit god if she wants to do it in cowgirl position i happily fucking ill get in posoition ill get rrady and god o will JUMP on whateber thr fucm she will have me juml on i dont even lime dick but if she had one ? im giving the most sloppy, toe curling, gut wrenching, hair pulling, blood sucking, world ending, pussy shatterimg, cock destroying, orgasm overload head of the WORLD. illngive a mew meaning to a blowjob and if she has a pussy shit ill fuckong eat it too id do whatever she wnated id get on my knees for her id hump the FUCK out of her four horse legs shw wpukd have my wetness stuck in her fur for weeks afrer that and id lick kt lff okay id clesn it off for her id use my tongue skills tp do the jlb RIGHR and id ensing eery ssimgle second of having my tomfue on her. i want her to mount me like a fuckong horse i want her on.top of me as i lay stosmxh on.the floor i want her destroying me i want my inskde ANNIHILATED !!!! i want her to fuck me so hard my ovaries become scrambled eggs abd she tames them out, fries them, seasoms them, and serves them to me on a plate and tells me i did a good job with her beautoful southern voice. i want her to literlly obliterate me i want her to trample me i want my stomach lining to be destroyed becayse she wilm shove her hoove so far down my thrlst that it will cause friction burn and make my saliva acidic i liteelaly want her to est me oit and make me see god and have him be disgusted and terrfied at the sounds im makimg he needs to be scared and regret ever making genitals for humans becayse the face and the sounds i will be making will caise him to start planning a homosapien extermaination to start over humanity because hes terrfied of what he created by giving humajs sexual pleasure thats how good she will eat me out.

and.god her voide ? her fucking voice ? her southern accent ???? take me already ??? i want tp make her scream i need to mske her scream i want to.her her say my namewith her southern accent and i want her to call me sweerie throufhout it and ill make sure i please her so much that she will say it bwcause indeserce ir after makung her eyes rolls baxk and her legs kick i wanr her to kick me as shes having an orgasn i aant her o literally send me flying woth her kicks she shpukd kick me so hard that inget internal bleeding but, even with blood driping down my mouth from my lungs being punctured from my broken ribs, i come back.to help ride her throifh her orgasm and give her as many more as she wants i want her pulling my hair until she rips it all out and ingo bald id have a wig eveey single time and id suoer glue it onto my head so i coukd fall how jars shes pulling i wsnt her to pull that superglued wig off every time and i want to have my skull showikg by the ampunt of skin and musfle she pulled off

AND THE HAID ???THE FUCKING HAIE ???? GOD !!!! IM GETTING STARTED ON THAT BECAUSE JESUF FUCKING CHRIST I MEAN JOLLY FUCKING JEEZ ILL DO ANYTHING JUST TAKE ME ALREASY !!! her hair looks sosos soft and i want to touch jt .. i woukd beg for some of her hair, and then id take crochet courses abd lesrn how to crochet and after id do all that and do lots of practice id make knickers and a bra using the hair she had so kindly given me and id wear it every single day every single hour eveeh single minite for all the secknds that pass and it wpukd feel like delta herself touching me everyrwhere in those places for so long id even make fill on clothes out of he rhair and id wear them rverday and id get the appeal of clorhed sex, id never take my clothes off anymore, i woukdnt even have to because just having those clothes on would count as clothed sex becaause of how lustful id feel just wesing them. everyrime id move and the fricrion make the clorhes get mkre omto my body id start sweating, abd the swear would make the cllthes stick mkre tonmy body abd at that point id have the mosr earth desteoyong orgasm, the ground bellw me would be so destroyed that i could see the other side of the world from the hole i jjst created using my hole do you undeeatand ? im gay for herm i want her. i want to make a dildo using her hoove shape, and then i want to make a.cover for it using her hair anr that thong woukd be inside me every single fucking dsy nonstop id neve rtake ir our, by day two it woukd be disimtegrated because of how wet id made ir i woukd mske it out of steel or whateve5 fuckingg stromg ass materail but the poert of my pussy and love woukd get it to disintgerate and go soggy lke paper. that thing woukd merge inside me that it woukd count as a third limb it wpukd count as a whole new beong inside me id name it. my medical records would have tonbe changed to account for the thing i made in her honour because it ould nor officialby be part of me. it woukd be in there forever.

basiclsly, what im trying to say is, i think shes a reallyy cool charavter 👍

[wongyuseokie]

Practice Makes Perfect | c.s.c, j.w.w & k.m.g

Summary: Mingyu needed some help sexually. So his Hyungs decided to ask a simple favour of you, and who are you to say no to them? Besides, who could deny them pleasure? ☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed Word Count:  2669 words 

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Female Reader | Female Reader x Jeon Wonwoo | Female Reader x Kim Mingyu 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, Fluff, PWP. Content Warnings: None. It’s a PWP, and with my bias line. Mingyu is made to be a lot shyer and a little less experienced here. It’s the only way I can humble a man that fine. Mingyu needs some help, I guess? (but does he really?). Mentions of alcohol.  

Smut Warnings: Dom! Cheol, Subish!Gyu, Dom Wonwoo! Unprotected sex (pls don’t do this irl). Overstimulation, double penetration, breast & nipple play. Oral (m & f receiving), face riding, squirting. Mentions of public sex. Pet names (good boy, baby boy, pretty girl), praise kink. Pussy slapping. Cum play. Biting, it’s mild. Authors Note 1: Thank you so so much to @here4btsfics & @junkissed-replies for beta'ing this for me! Thank you also to @seungkwansphd for reading and then telling me I should be in horny jail. ILY bby. Authors Note 2: Also happy birthday to Wonwoo, the bestest boy. To celebrate him, let's thirst over a fine-ass man and his handsome friends.

Authors Note 3: tagging my lovely @the-boy-meets-evil because it's her birthday month, and I gotta make her suffer too. Also tagging my lovely Zeta @multi-kpop-fanfics because we suffer the Wonwoo rot today (every day). Tagging my lovely @seokgyuu too. Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Seriously? Hyung, I mean it; how do I make her cum with my mouth?” Seungcheol kept laughing at Mingyu. 

“Come on, Hyung; he’s trying to learn,” Wonwoo said with a smile. 

Seungcheol stopped laughing and looked at them.

“Okay, fine, Mingyu. Do you think I have a doll or something you would practice on?” Mingyu looked down. 

“Besides, it wouldn’t help. Each woman is different. No woman’s clit is at the same location as the others.” Mingyu sighed.

“I know. I just, since my ex, I haven’t been able to, like, I want to make a girl come undone because of my tongue and then fuck her,” Mingyu blurted out. 

“Mingyu, I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Wonwoo comforted. 

“Anyways, shall we head to Y/N’s house? I’m sure we’re already late?” Seungcheol asked, and the other boys nodded. 

You were on your second glass of wine, waiting for the boys to show up. It was movie night, and they had kept you waiting for the past hour and a half, and you were getting antsy. 

You decided to pour a glass of wine, which turned into two, and you were sipping when you heard your doorbell ring. You opened it to find your three best friends all looking extra apologetic. 

You all had met because Wonwoo had somehow managed to splash water on you at a bar. Seungcheol, the charmer, helped you get some tissues, and Mingyu was there, while he was shy at first, but he soon became your fellow cuddle buddy. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Mingyu over here wouldn’t shut up, so we got delayed.” Mingyu glared at Seungcheol.

“Hyung,” he warned, and Seungcheol smiled.

“I won’t tell her. Chill,” you narrowed your eyes at Seungcheol’s words. 

“What were these three up to?” You thought. 

You smiled at Seungcheol, never being able to get annoyed at any one of them entirely. 

“It’s okay, come on, help me in the kitchen. Wonwoo, Mingyu, get settled, make yourselves at home and pick a movie,” you said, inviting them in, and they followed you into the apartment while Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. 

Moments like these, you were thankful for having a door that led to your kitchen because the minute you had shut the door behind you, Seungcheol had you pushed against a counter and his lips finding yours. 

“I’m sorry we’re late, Y/N,” Seungcheol apologised, mumbling the words against your lips. 

You and Seungcheol met at a bar, mainly because Mingyu accidentally spilt a drink on you, and Seungcheol took you to the bathroom to help you clean up, and one thing led to another, and somehow you ended up fucking Seungcheol in a random bathroom bar. 

It was a good arrangement. You both had amazing sex and no strings. 

“What was Mingyu asking about anyway?” You asked, now grabbing glasses and bottles of wine from the counter. 

Seungcheol bit his lip, “how to eat a girl out.” 

“Didn’t he have a girlfriend?” “He did, but I think he wants it for a one-night stand or hookups so he can, and I quote, ‘make her cum on my tongue before I fuck her,” Seungcheol elaborated, and you smiled at his words. You couldn’t help but picture it; Mingyu was eager, and willing to learn. 

“Y/N, I know that fucking smile.” 

You smirked, “what if I give him a lesson?” 

Seungcheol  grinned, “can I watch?” 

You and Seungcheol emerged from the kitchen to find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting on your sofa. Mingyu had removed his leather jacket, leaving him with a sleeveless top showing off his muscles. 

Wonwoo, on the other hand, was on his phone, and his tight black shirt was doing nothing to hide how much he had been working out in the last few months. 

“What movie did you pick?” you asked. “We couldn’t pick one, so we just have music chilling in the background. Let’s make it a wine night,” Wonwoo replied.

You sat on the couch, and Seungcheol pulled you to his side.  

“Mingyu, how’s single life?” You asked innocently, and you heard Seungcheol suppress a laugh as he caught onto your motive. 

“Uh, good, you know. Nothing terrible.”

“Easier to get casual sex, right?” You asked innocently, and Mingyu stilled. 

“Hyung, what the hell did you say to her?” Mingyu asked, glaring at Seungcheol. 

You blinked as you set your glass down, walked over to Mingyu and stood before him. You sat down on his lap, throwing your legs around his waist. 

“Mingyu, look at me,” you said, and he did just that. 

“Good boy.” Mingyu felt your praise shoot straight to his cock. 

“You wanted to learn how to eat a girl out?” You asked, and Mingyu started turning red. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” You continued to ask. 

“Or?” Seungcheol interrupted. 

“Do you want your Hyung to show you?” Mingyu bit his lip at Seungcheol’s words while Wonwoo, who was enjoying this all too much, smirked.

“Show him, Hyung. He’s a visual learner anyway,” Wonwoo chimed in, and you nodded. Mingyu was still frozen. At the same time, Seungcheol sat on the floor in front of you. You crawled off Mingyu’s lap and found a space between him and Wonwoo. 

“Kiss me, pretty girl,” Seungcheol instructed, and you did as he asked, placing your lips on Seungcheol’s as he moved his lips with yours. He pulled your lower lip between his as he kept kissing you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Your moans filled the room, along with the music. Seungcheol’s hands went to your shirt, pulling it off, revealing a sheer bra that left little to the imagination, while his hands found your shorts. He pulled your shorts and underwear off together. 

Wonwoo, who was already hard, found the clasp of your bra and undid it, helping you out of the material. He lifted one leg onto his thighs. 

“Mingyu, take her other leg,” Wonwoo said as Mingyu shakily moved his hand to your thighs, lifting over his muscular legs. You felt so exposed, and Seungcheol’s hot breath on your cunt did not help.

Wonwoo’s hand found a way to your breast. He started massaging and squeezing the soft tissue, making you moan as he traced circles around your hardened nipples. Mingyu was practically catatonic until Seungcheol told him to move. 

“Mingyu. You’ll turn into a statue at this rate. Kiss Y/N.” Seungcheol said as he started stripping himself down to his underwear; you turned your head to face Mingyu, who was turning into a lovely shade of fuchsia.

“Baby boy, kiss me,” you said, and you felt Mingyu practically launch himself at you. His lips found yours, and he kissed you. While Seungcheol was a more passionate kisser, Mingyu was more playful. 

His tongue kept running along your bottom lip; he would slip his tongue in now and then and deepen the kiss. Mingyu would gently tug at your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan and writhe. 

Mingyu pulled away to trail kisses down your neck. He bit and sucked his way to your collarbone, ensuring that he ran his tongue over each of his love bites, soothing the area. 

You moaned as he continued and tugged his hair, making him look at you. 

“Baby boy, you’re so fucking good at that,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk. His lips were swollen, and his eyes glazed over with lust. 

A slap to your clit brought your attention back to the room and Seungcheol ’s carnal gaze. 

“Mingyu, watch what I do. Watch how I make her cum with just my mouth.” You squirmed at Seungcheol’s words, desperate to feel his lips on your cunt. 

You would never let Seungcheol know how good he was at eating you out. He already had a massive ego when it came to his skills in bed, and you didn’t want to inflate it further. 

“Mingyu, eyes on her cunt,” Seungcheol instructed, and Mingyu nodded, his hand massaging your breast, mirroring Wonwoo’s actions. Seungcheol leaned forward and ran his tongue from your entrance to your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, you almost hated how easily Seungcheol made you a mess, but at the same time, you weren’t exactly complaining. You moved your hands down to Wonwoo’s trousers while the other moved to Mingyu’s. Both men groaned as you palmed their erections. 

Seungcheol ran his tongue up and down your folds until he finally fixed his mouth on your clit. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you whimpered, feeling him smirk against your pussy. 

Mingyu’s gaze never once left your cunt. He observed as his Hyung lapped at your cunt. He noticed what parts of your cunt, when touched, made you moan and whimper. 

Seungcheol wrapped his lips around your cunt and started to suck, making you buck your face against his mouth. Seungcheol moved his mouth away from your cunt to speak. 

“Wonwoo, take her in your lap and hold her tight,” Seungcheol instructed, and Wonwoo did as he was told. 

You were sat in Wonwoo’s lap between his thighs, your lower back pressing against his hard length. 

Wonwoo’s muscular arms wrapped tight around your waist, immobilising you as Seungcheol  dove back in. 

Seungcheol resumed his actions as his mouth found your clit again, he kept sucking, and you kept squirming, making Wonwoo moan each time you moved against his cock. 

Seungcheol licked and flicked your clit until you whimpered and came on his tongue, and Seungcheol lapped at your entrance, licking your release. 

Seungcheol smirked as he stood up. He pulled off his briefs and sat down in between the two men.

“Wonwoo put her on me,” Seungcheol instructed, and Wonwoo smirked and lifted you and lowered you down onto Seungcheol’s cock.

“Y/N, hands around my neck, pretty girl,” Seungcheol commanded, and you nodded and wrapped your hands around Seungcheol’s neck as he started thrusting his hips upwards, making you moan and fall forward. 

“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol said as he groaned.

“Mingyu, rub her clit.” Mingyu nodded as his hand moved to your cunt. He gently moved his fingers along your cunt and stopped when he heard you gasp. 

“There?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. 

Mingyu wasted no time rubbing your clit. His fingers moved vigorously, and you were cumming in practically no time.

Seungcheol's groans got louder as you came around his cock. He hissed and pounded into you as you moaned and keened in oversensitivity. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Seungcheol groaned, thrusting a few more times and stilled when he came inside you. Seungcheol slowly pulled out of you.

 “Keep my cum inside you,” Seungcheol instructed. 

Seungcheol carried you gently and laid you down on the other end of the sofa.

“Gyu, you wanted to eat a girl out? Go on, make Y/N cum,” Seungcheol instructed lazily. 

Mingyu bit his lip to suppress a moan. You moaned when you heard his instruction and stayed still, waiting for Mingyu’s mouth. He got so hard at the thought of being able to lick your pussy clean of Seungcheol’s cum. 

“Mingyu, take your clothes off,” you mumbled as he approached you. You almost laughed at the speed with which he undressed but then had to bite back a moan when you saw his body. 

Mingyu crawled and laid down between your legs. You could feel his breath on your cunt as he moaned and dove straight in. He mirrored Seungcheol’s actions; however, Mingyu was playful. He would alternate between his tongue and lips. 

Mingyu moved his mouth away from your cunt, and pulled you up on the sofa. Your hands tugged at his hair.

“More, Mingyu,” you whispered, and he laid down and pointed to his face. 

“Ride my face, Y/N,” Mingyu asked breathlessly, and you nodded as you straddled his face, his hands wrapped around your thighs, inching you upwards so he could push his tongue inside your cunt. 

You nearly fell forward at the welcome intrusion. Mingyu moaned when he tasted Seungcheol’s cum inside you as he moved his tongue and licked you. 

“Do you want more, pretty baby?” You nodded. You heard Seungcheol’s voice from behind you. 

You found Wonwoo standing at Mingyu’s head, his cock hard and in his hand. You adjusted yourself and wrapped your lips around his.

“Fuck, can I fuck your throat?” Wonwoo asked, moaning, and you simply hummed in approval against Wonwoo’s cock, the vibrations making him buck his length in your mouth. 

Wonwoo started by wrapping your hair in a ponytail and moving his hips in and out of your mouth. You let Wonwoo fuck your throat, and Mingyu kept licking you. You whimpered as you started to feel your orgasm wash over you. 

You came around Mingyu’s tongue, whimpering, but Mingyu’s grip on your thighs made it impossible for you to move. He continued licking you while you moaned while deep throating Wonwoo. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m going to cum,” Wonwoo growled, and you hummed, letting him know he could. Wonwoo thrust a few more times until he stilled and spilled his hot cum down your throat. 

You moaned as you swallowed him. Wonwoo smirked devilishly. He was far from being done with you, but you didn’t have to know that just yet. 

Mingyu kept lapping at your cunt, until you shook your vision, fading as you rode your orgasm out on his face. You whimpered as you felt a strong pair of arms pull you off him and hold you tightly. 

“Mingyu, you said you didn’t know how to eat a girl out, and you made this one squirt with your tongue,” Seungcheol said, cocking his brow at him. Mingyu grinned as he licked his lips. 

“I watched you, and she liked it,” Mingyu mumbled shyly, and you noticed how hard Mingyu was, and you motioned for him to come forward.

“Nope!” You heard Seungcheol say. 

“Cheol, fuck, I need to fuck him,” you protested, and Seungcheol grinned. 

“Oh, you will. Just you won’t fuck him alone. Mingyu, lie down again,” Seungcheol instructed, and  Mingyu nodded and retook his position. 

“Y/N, take him inside you,” Seungcheol instructed, and you practically crawled over and sank yourself on his length, hissing at how good he felt inside you. You felt a hand slap your ass, and you turned around to notice Wonwoo, who pushed you down so that you were lying on top of Mingyu. 

You felt Wonwoo push his cock inside your cunt, and your mind went blank as he sheathed himself further and further inside you. Both men were hissing at the tight fit while you just let out whimpers. 

Once Wonwoo was entirely inside you, he started moving his hips and tapped Mingyu’s thighs to do the same. You kept scratching Mingyu’s chest, trying to hold on as both men were fucking you. Neither one of them would last long in such a tight fight. 

Hisses and moans filled the room as the three of you were ecstatic. Seungcheol was hard and stroking himself at the sight. 

You felt Wonwoo cum inside you first, biting down on your shoulder as he did and pulled himself out, making you and Mingyu hiss. Mingyu pounded into your cunt as he came inside you shortly after. 

You were panting, trying to catch your breath as Mingyu pulled out of you. You didn’t realise when, but he had you flipped and on the sofa, and his lips on your cunt. 

You screamed at the touch, you were so swollen and sensitive, but Mingyu pushed his tongue inside you, moaning as he tasted your cum, mixed with his and Wonwoo’s. 

He licked you until you came again. He moved away from your cunt to your lips, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Fuck.” He moaned as he took a seat next to you. 

“Okay, it’s my turn to ravage her. You two, make sure you hydrate,” Seungcheol teased, smirking as he pulled you off the couch and threw you over his broad shoulders, slapping your ass as he carried you to your bedroom.

[baratiddyappreciator]

I was so upset that your NSFW cuddling scenarios got flagged 😭

But I have to ask, what would spicy cuddling with musashi, spec, and Doyle be like?

you’ve reawoken my old man thirst

omg wait it did?! SKskks I didn't even notice- But yes, if the beloved moot asks, they shall receive! Spec was the hardest to write for by far because I couldn't figure out if this man would actually cuddle but fuck it we ball(s deep in this bitch someone please throw me a rope to climb out it's wet in here) Kids: get bent lmfao

Musashi: His stare was intense enough to make you feel naked normally, but now that you were actually naked, his eyes locking on yours in the mirror only made you feel hot, his hips meeting yours from behind, slow and methodical, but not gentle. No, anything but gentle as he grabbed your throat, leaving you to make choked noises as his hips met yours over and over again in a slow, powerful grind that had your eyes rolling back into your skull with little to no effort on his part. Mean? Oh absolutely, he was so cruel, driving you insane by moving so slowly, and god you regretted asking him to cuddle you within view of a mirror, because you really should have known that he was going to make you watch him watching you taking him. And you could see him perfectly, each forward thrust of his hips making his shaft disappear deep within you, before it would be slowly dragged out only to slam back into you with dizzying force. Trying to turn your head to the side to nuzzle into the blankets only had him snatching your face to turn you to face the mirror again.

"Don't look away, I want to watch you come undone."

Spec: He didn't really cuddle, no, he was too tough for that. But him lounging around the place only to have you plop down on top of him to join him? Yeah, that was about as close as you'd get. Though if you were hoping for a peaceful nap with him, then you were sorely mistaken, since most of the time you did this there was a 50/50 split that he would wind up fucking you right then and there, and this was a gamble you'd lost (or won) as he bounced you up and down on his thick shaft, smugly chuckling as you were winded time and time again as his thick head kissed your insides, making room for itself so he could nestle deep inside of you. It was like he was trying to stab you to death with his dick, but instead of killing you, all he manged to do was succeeding in having you shaking and crying on top of him as an orgasm was forced out of you, one so powerful almost all your upper body strength vanished, leaving you slumped against his chest as he kept fucking you through it, pressing a sloppy kiss to your forehead with a breathy chuckle.

"That's right darlin', just like the perfect fuck toy fer me."

Doyle: It had been perfectly peaceful until you'd moved your hips an inch. A singular inch, not even, and he'd pounced on you. No more peace and quiet for you, the couch repeatedly slamming into your wall (god your neighbours would hate you if they didn't already) to the rhythm of Doyle's harsh thrusts. Fast but deep, there was no mercy as he left your head spinning from the pleasure and slight sting that it brought along, his hand sealed around your throat teasingly as he loomed over you smugly. He didn't need to say anything to get his point across, he knew how turned on you already were from him using you like a pliant and obedient doll, and honestly, for him? That's what you would be. Each snap of his hips was driving you closer and closer to your climax, and almost like he could taste it, he grinned, licking his teeth, and leaned over you, staring right into your eyes.

"So needy, you're behaving so well for me. Let's see if you can keep it up for just a bit longer, hm?"

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Star Spangled

Request: could you write something like when chris & the reader make a s*x tape? (I hope you don’t mind that I did this idea with Steve nonnie! It just worked out with what I was already writing.)

Summary: it’s your best friends birthday and you didn’t know what to get him. Luckily Natasha had a suggestion.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Ex Villian turned Hero!Black!Reader

Warnings: minors dni, smut, making sex tape, rough sex, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple positions, mentions of past abusive relationships, I’m gonna say this is a dub con to be on the safe side 😬

(A/N: this was supposed to be put out on his birthday, but oh well 😒. Ended up being longer than I’d anticipated. Surprisingly not a daddy kink. It wasn’t on purpose I just didn’t wanna force it 🤷🏾‍♀️. Once again this was not proofread in the slightest. Anyway I hope you enjoy it. Like follow reblog and comment please 💜 ✌🏾)

»»——————————-　♡　—————-————-««

When you’d lost that bet with Natasha you hadn’t expected this. For her to find this get up so quickly or for her to actually make you wear it. From the moment you stepped out of the bathroom she’d been giggling.

Since her and Wanda were the only ones to know about your crush on Steve they thought it was hilarious. While you felt silly as hell in this short ass red and white striped skirt.

Not to mention, you couldn’t stop fussing with the blue top trying to keep your cleavage from spilling out too much. The little blue cap pinned in your hair was irritating you, but this was as good as it was gonna get. You also don’t think they originally wore fishnets with it either. These shoes seemed a little too high, too. At least they were cute.

So while Natasha and Wanda followed by everyone else giggled at your costume, all he could do was grin. First putting his hands on your upper shoulders so he could make you stand back. Taking a full good look at you. “How’d you even find this?” He asked almost completely stunned at what you were wearing.

You shrugged and sighed, before crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Natasha.”

This only made the spy laugh a little harder as she wiped tears that were leaking out her eyes. “Ah I needed this laugh.”

“I lost a bet,” you clarified, looking off to the side.

“I think I did a good job at putting it together. Whatya think, Rogers?” The red head asked as she threw an arm around your shoulders.

“The skirts a little shorter than I remember,” he replied. Oh ya don’t say. “But, I think you look very cute,” he said.

Just cute? Boo. Cute is for like kittens and babies and puppies and shit. Come on Cap! Your tits were ready to burst out of this thing. You know what fuck this. You were going to have fun in this even if you felt sillier than a rodeo clown.

You sighed under your breath. “Thanks, Cap. Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, Doll,” he replied before kissing your cheek. “This my present?” He asked.

“Apparently,” you replied with a shrug.

Natasha chuckled. “I wanted her to jump out of a cake, but we couldn’t find one that’d be here in time.”

“Ah, what?” He groaned playfully. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at him. “Who needs that when you look this good though huh.” He reached out to tickle your side making you slap his hand away. “Promise to save me a dance?”

You nodded. “Of course,” you replied feeling stupid butterflies going off in your stomach.

You still couldn’t believe that Steve was born on the Fourth of July of all days. Like could he be any fucking more of a goody two shoes? Yet against all odds you ended up crushing on him like a fucking school girl. You could only imagine what your old crowd would say if they saw you thirsting over America’s Golden boy.

He was not supposed to be your type. Except he’d grew out his beard and hair and now your pussy throbbed every time you saw him. You were so thirsty. Hell even before that. When he had that short blonde hair and clean shaven face you’d wondered what it would have been like to ride it. Look there was no denying that the man was hot it’s just he wasn’t supposed to be one of the guys you ended up with.

In the time you’d gotten really close with them. Wanda and Natasha had become amazing friends. Had really helped you off your feet whenever you needed them. All of them though. It’d been such a change. Not being able to just do what you wanted. Or care if you hurt someone. It felt so much more like a home.

Especially with how they were just there. Sure the first time you met them was when they intercepted your ex’s arms deal. You’d ended up getting into a firefight with Natasha and then pushed into a wall by Wanda. Obviously you were fast friends.

It’s funny how things change so quickly. Now it was so different, but almost in a sappy way. You stole their shit. They stole yours. It was all corny and shit with girls nights which is how this stupid thing started. You were asking what you should get Steve for his birthday and she blurted out that you should dress up as one of his pinup doll looking girls.

You still can’t believe she did more shots than you. Whatever she won fair and square. So now there you were dressed as a Star-Spangled Singer. If you weren’t so sore from losing or possibly embarrassing yourself in front of him, you probably would have had less shame.

Aside from then everything was great. Even with the guys. While they were all little shits sometimes they were awesome. Sure Bucky kept stealing your Ben and Jerry’s no matter where you seemed to hide it in the freezer. He’d still held your hand when you had to get a piece of glass removed from your stomach. And did the Mrs. Nesbitt thing when you asked.

Sam and Tony ragged on you like they were your older brothers. But Sam was always there to talk and had helped you through some panic attacks when things were really hard. And Tony let you drive his cars! You can’t believe he trusted you after you messed with his bank accounts a few years back.

Since Vision apparently isn’t the same as Jarvis, he didn’t seem to care that you’d disabled him that one time. Besides you liked how he was with Wanda. Not like she can’t protect herself but with him she always looked so safe. You can’t remember the last time you felt like that. Your last relationship wasn’t exactly the healthiest.

Bruce was a sweetheart you couldn’t fuck with him. Though you did have so much fun playing with the Hulk. Then it’d get lame because you’d make him laugh or something and then Banner would come out. You’ve seen Banner naked too many times. Not that you were complaining. It was kinda cute when he got all embarrassed. Though you admit you hadn’t been expecting his giant penis. No wonder Nat was thirsting over him on the low.

Rhodey had like adopted you. And while you normally would be super irritated with something like that, you actually didn’t mind it. It didn’t even seem like it irritated him that you followed him around like a baby duck. No hard feelings about that time you and your ex got into a scuffle with this drug lord that he had to get in between.

Then on another note your mind seemed to not really function around Thor. He also seemed to realize that. It was weird. Like he was so fucking hot but also so goddamn nice. He had like zero regard for your safety but he always caught you at least. And he similar to Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off your blueberry muffins, but he always replaced them so it wasn’t the worst. And didn’t mind giving you piggy back rides all the time since it didn’t phase him.

Then there was him. As much as you hated it, it was because he looked so much like your ex. Well that was before he grew the beard or his hair out. Maybe that’s why you liked that look so much.

He was everything your ex wasn’t. Especially where it mattered. Like how he always made sure to ask if you were okay or getting up to get pancakes with you in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep. Then how on those nights the two of you would come home get all cozy under the covers and whisper about anything until you fell asleep. It really shouldn’t be this surprising that you fell for him.

There was just something about him. Maybe because he just looked so big and strong. Or maybe something about seeing him shirtless in the gym. Then again who could blame you for that. Not like you hadn’t checked out all of them. You were a happy girl to be surrounded by so much eye candy. You’d be stupid to not check for them.

Then again, there were always signs and tells that there was something more with him. That’s kinda what you liked about him. That despite the good boy thing there was clearly something under the surface. You’d gotten glimpses of his porn searches and having a crush on your hot, perfect best friend while seeing that he likes watching such filthy filthy videos maybe gave you a little bit of a rush.

With his and America’s birthdays falling on the same day, of course there was going to be a party. Cake and fireworks. Which didn’t really seem smart considering what everyone here did for a living. 

As you’d forced yourself to mingle and get over on being one wrong move away from flashing everyone your tits, you’d noticed Steve keep looking over at you. Someone would be talking to him, asking him what it’d be like to be one hundred and something and he’d glance up at you and smile. 

Why did he have to be so hot. It was almost annoying. Like he was forcing this upon you. If anything this crush wasn’t your fault. It was his.

The last time you’d felt like this was about an entirely awful person. You’d thought if you ever felt like this again you’d be scared. With him all it made you wanna do was have him wreck the shit out of your pussy. Not like you wanted him to know that. He was your bestie.

Maria had almost choked on her beer from seeing you. While Sam had been making fun of you the entire time. Tony certainly wasn’t sparing any comments. Then there was Wade who’d tried multiple times to get you to do the can can with him. You felt like you were apart of a side show. It was kind of nice to sit away from them as they ohh’d and awed to the fireworks show.

“Hey,” he said, plopping down beside you.

“Hey, birthday boy,” you replied. “What’re you doing in here?”

He shrugged. “Noticed you weren’t there. Everything okay?”

You let out a big breath of air and shrug. “I’m not that crazy about fireworks,” you surprised yourself by replying honestly. They made it so hard though. To be who you used to be. It’s like they put truth serum in your coffee every morning.

Steve frowned. “Yeah? You okay? I know Bucky gets a little freaked too. Its alright. You should have told me.”

Ugh. See. So fucking hot. You can’t tell me that a man that cares this much isn’t supposed to be swooned after. If anything you’d be crazy not to. You half smiled at him. “I’m okay. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He shrugged. “So? I’m supposed to take care of you if you’re dressed like one of my girls.”

Your jaw dropped. “Cap!” You gasped smacking his arms. “Were you their, ya know-“

“Their what?” He asked.

“Like, pimp?” You asked all low.

His nose crinkled and he shook his head. “No! Not that there’s anything wrong with sex work or whatever.” He rambled out and explanation. Good to know he was pro sex work at least. “I never even slept with them.”

“What?” You gasped. “A big guy like you? I would have been all over you.” You didn’t mean to say it. It just kind of slipped out. Your eyes widening.

“Trust me,” he said as laughed, “I have some regrets. Always liked the little costume.” He hooked the hem of the skirt with his finger.

You looked up at him under your lashes. “What regrets?”

“I was so busy being upset that they weren’t letting me help in the war that I didn’t get to enjoy,” he replied. “Now though? Different story.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a giggle. “Is this doing something for you?” You asked winking up at him.

“Could be,” he said. “That wouldn’t be appropriate, though. Would it?”

“Since when have you been known to follow the rules,” you teased.

“True,” he replied with a smirk before looking over his shoulders then draping his arm around you. “Not like anyone’s around to see.”

“Why? What do you have in mind?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing,” he said as he ran his finger tips up and down your arm making you shiver.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing.” You said now walking your own fingers up and down his leg. Were you really doing this. Was he really doing this. Was Natasha just your fairy godspy?

“I guess that depends on you,” he replied in your ear.

“What about our dance?” You asked him.

“I feel like this is a kind of dance.”

You laughed as you looked up at him. Hand now resting on his thigh. “Well, you know me, Captain. I’m down with anything.

“Making me want to get some pictures of you in this get up, Doll.”

“I mean…” you shrugged, “whatever the birthday boy wants.”

He licked the corner of his mouth grabbing your hand in his free one. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Oh yeah? I’m starting to think you’re not the gentleman everyone thinks you are.”

“Aw, Doll,” he said, bringing his lips close to yours. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

With that he pushed his lips to yours. Ugh finally. And he tasted as good as you thought he would. Then he picked you up like it was nothing which for him it totally wasn’t.

“What about your party?” You asked pulling away from him with a squeal.

“Doll, I’d be crazy to give a shit about a party when you’re like this,” he said smacking your ass.

You giggled and squealed as he carried you down the corridor until the two of you were in his room. Laying you down on the bed as soon as you were in there. He climbed on top of you. Kissing you hard as you raked your nails up and down his back.

He stopped so he could kiss your neck making you let out these breathy moans. “Fuck you’re so fucking cute.”

Oh so he liked cute. That’s a good thing then.

“Still wanna take a picture?” You asked, trying to sound all flirty.

Steve chuckled in your ear before sitting up on his knees. Wait no come back! You sat up wrapping your arms around him. He laughed as he fished his phone out of his pocket. “I should have known you were a bad girl,” he said before kissing you again. Adding his tongue. You should have known he’d be nasty. Sweet boys are always the worst.

From there you posed as he used his phone to snap a few pictures. Even letting you hold his shield so you could pose with it. And then it got a little more scandalous. Remember Cap is an artist at heart. So it wasn’t that surprising when he wanted to get a little risqué.

Making you hike up your skirt for him. Then bend over on his bed so he could get a good one of your ass in those fishnets. It’s a good thing you’d decided not to wear panties so when you’d bent over he got an eyeful of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he said getting behind you after. Making you go forward as he grabbed a handful of your butt. You moaned and moved your hips then gasped as he started rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

“Oh,” you moaned.

He chuckled then finally started pushing one of his fingers inside of you. Your jaw dropped from the sudden intrusion. He hadn’t even asked. Just took it like he owned it. Not that you weren’t open to that. “So fucking wet,” he hissed. “So pretty I could take a video.”

“You want to?” You asked with a moan because fuck how was he working your cunt so well.

“I shoulda known you’d be a little slut for me,” he said.

You gasped, hating that you tightened around him like a vice as that word fell from his lips. Fuck you were pretty sure you were gushing. 

“You like that?” He asked finally adding another to your wet pussy.

“Please,” you whimpered. He was so close you could feel him against your crotch against your thigh. He was still in his clothes but you could feel his cock pressing into you. You’d even tried to lean back against him to get more contact.

“Please what?”

Was he really expecting you to be able to answer when you were like this. The skirt of your costume tickling your skin. As he inserted another thick finger you thought you might pass out. Who knew Captain America was gonna be able to work your pussy so good. “Do whatever you want,” you cried.

“Yeah?” He asked with a laugh. “Want me to do what I want? I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“It’s okay. I can take it.”

“Oh, Baby, I was gonna make you take it.”

Well, fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at that as he kept going like he was manipulating it. Camera pointed at your dripping cunt as he touched you. “More,” you begged.

“Is that really fair?” He asked pulling out of you to smack your ass. “What about me?”

You looked back at him with a pout. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?” You asked him getting on your knees in front of him.

“That’s such a good fucking girl,” he said, grabbing your chin. “You know,” he started, putting his thumb against your lips, “if I’d known you’d wanted it I would have done this a lot sooner.”

“Really?” You tried to ask but your mouth was kind of full.

He chuckled. “Yeah. Just couldn’t stop myself anymore when you’re in this. Maybe I should write Natasha a thank you note.”

You giggled, perking your tits up. Geeze you can’t believe you were going full on slut for him. Then again who are you kidding you’d been waiting for this moment.

You started undoing his belt and he stopped so he could remove his shirt. Was it bad that you were drooling once his abs came into view. You laid on your stomach as he started to work his pants. Just taking in how fucking good he looked.

Then his cock sprung into view and your jaw dropped. While you’d been dying to know if the serum had affected everything you’d finally gotten your answer. “That’s not gonna fit,” you said with your eyes wide.

You literally had never seen a prettier dick before. He was perfection just looked so big and heavy. You were honestly tempted to hold it up to your forearm to compare the length. Captain America having a monster cock was not on your bingo card.

“I’ll make it fit,” he replied as if you weren’t staring at his giant penis to know better. Then again would it hurt to try.

From the moment your tongue touched his tip you were fucking obsessed. He could choke you on it until you were at his mercy and you’d probably say thank you. Then he made you so you did, looking straight at the camera when you said, “Thank you for letting me suck your cock.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a groan. You kind of wondered what you looked like. Your face covered with spit from when he went extra deep and then pulled it out to smear across your face. “Fuck. It’s like I’ve already got you trained.”

One of your hands rubbed your clit because what else were you supposed to do at a time like this. Like the man you’d been crushing on was on some gentleman in the streets super freaky in the sheets shit. You needed to try and get yourself off.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asked. You nodded, but didn’t pull off. Just looked up at him with those big eyes. “Cut that shit out. That’s my pussy and you didn’t ask for permission.”

Normally you would have rolled your eyes but a demand like that coming from a man like him. You complied. Focusing on wanting to make him cum down your fucking throat for the camera.

“Gonna make me cum, Baby,” he warned with a grunt. God you hope he was. “Not sure if I should cum down your throat or on your fucking face.” You moaned around him as he grabbed your hair to help you work up and down. “Gonna let me cum wherever I want all night?”

You nodded so enthusiastically. Fuck you probably looked pathetic. Not that you were complaining about it.

“Open your mouth,” he said, as he pulled you off of him. Seems like he made his choice. He helped you up so you were down on your knees instead. Then stepped back and laughed as you put your hands on the floor so you could catch up to him. At this point there was no thoughts in your brain except that you wanted him to use you. “Stick your tongue out.”

You did as he said. Perking up again. He grabbed his dick with his free hand. Jerking off first before sliding back into your mouth just as ropes of thick white hot cum started hitting the back of your throat. You honestly felt like you might be in heaven.

From there he set his phone down. Grabbing you so he could pick you back up. Placing a kiss on your lips and not giving a shit as he deepened it as he walked you back to the bed. This time when he placed you down he stopped so he could make his way down your body until his mouth was on your clit.

The costume had been soiled by now. With spit and now cum having dripped down to the top. Yet he hadn’t taken it off. Not that you were surprised. Obviously his goal was to fuck you while you wore it.

Your back arched off the bed as he tongue fucked your sopping wet cunt. Making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Eating you out like he was a starving man and you were the cure for hunger.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” You repeated it because it was like the only thing you could say.

By the third time you’d orgasmed you were pretty sure he’d broken you. So to say you were scared of whatever his dick my do was an understatement. And all he did was fucking laugh at your reactions as his tongue assaulted you.

As he’d left you there open and panting he claimed back up on top of you. Kissing you again as he lined up. “Condom?” You croaked out.

He snorted. “That’s cute,” he said before pushing his tip into you. Your mind went completely blank as he did. The way he grunted as he forced himself made your jaw drop. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking me so fucking good like a little cock whore.”

Your head tilted back as you bit your lip. He was stretching you out until you were almost at your limit. Then starting moving his hips slow until he bottomed out. “Oh my god,” you breathed.

Then he pulled out making you whimper at the loss. He started helping you out of your outfit. Yet leaving the fishnets on. “That’s better,” he replied as he lined up with your entrance again. This time not really caring as much this time that you needed some time to adjust. Instead just pushing you onto his fat dick and making you gasp.

You were clinging to him as he started to move. Until he pushed you down so he could get a better angle. He was so thick he was hitting your spot whether you liked it or not. Making you your pussy juicers leaking around you because of it.

You were letting out mewls one right after the other. It was just too fucking much. Like whatever you’d been expecting this wasn’t it. You felt like a fucking blow up doll right now and you mean that in the most affectionate way possible.

You always imagined that sex with Steve would be similar to your ex. While he’d been sick and twisted in his own ways to you in bed he was obsessed with MaKiNg LoVe. He wanted it to be perfect. Like your hair had to be perfect. Lingerie on. Lights, camera, action. Surprisingly minus the camera. Funny you wouldn’t let him.

So as Steve impaled you on his giant dick you almost wanted to laugh at the irony. That the asshole was all about that perfect curated shit, the golden boy wanted to split you in half but was probably one of the sweetest people you’d ever met.

As the two of you went from missionary to you on top he was bouncing you down hard. The balls of your feet planted on the bed, so you could have an easier time moving up and down. His hand coming to smack your ass over and over.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” You cried out as you came around him again.

“That’s it. Say my fucking name.” He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back by your hair. By now you weren’t even sure where that little hat was. You just know it wasn’t on your head anymore. You could only imagine how fucked up your makeup looked right now.

He pulled out of you so he could position you face down ass up. Grabbing his phone then getting behind you. He rubbed your clit a little more before slamming into you again. 

“I’m gonna take a video. Okay, Doll. We’re going on separate missions next week and I wanna be able to watch it when I’m away from you.”

You whimpered. Stomach tightening as you clenched around him. “That’s okay.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission,” he said as he smacked your ass. Guiding himself into you and you swear every time you felt your brain malfunction. “It’s okay I’m not gonna let anyone else see. I promise.”

“I know,” you moaned as he started picking up pace again.

“Wish I could show your annoying fucking ex though,” he grunted. “Show him how a real man fucks you.”

If he didn’t shut up you were gonna cum again. Especially with the way he was forcing himself in to hit every single spot. “Just like that,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Who fucks you right, Baby?”

“You do,” you squeaked out.

“This is my pussy now. Don’t you fucking forget that.”

Your pussy tightened around him because of his words. He was just so big. You were pretty sure you’d never get used to it. Not like it mattered. Not like you wouldn’t take it over and over if he told you to. As if you’re not gonna be on his dick as much as you can be now. If he fucked you this disrespectfully on the first time you could only imagine what it’d be like next time.

“Pussy so fucking juicy,” he replied. “You like this, huh? Like being treated like a whore.”

Oh god. “Yes,” you cried. “Only for you.”

“Yeah? Gonna be my whore. Let me fuck you whenever I want?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you squeaked again. “It’s yours. You don’t even have to ask.”

He chuckled. How the fuck was he laughing at a time like this. As if he wasn’t rearranging your guts. “Don’t tell me that. I’ll hold you to it. You know I’m a man of my word.”

Why the fuck was that making you cum. Maybe because that was true. Which only made it hotter. Ugh you really were excited to be this mans fuck toy.

He threw the one down beside you as he pulled out again. Screen on the video he just took. As he flipped you over you grabbed it only getting to watch a little bit of how good it looked with you taking him from behind for a little bit. Fuck it was better than porn.

“You look like such a fucking mess,” he baby talked at you before kissing your lips again. Pulling you into his lap as he sat up. As much as you liked the other positions you liked how close he was to you in this one. “You’re so beautiful.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he went to your ass helping you. Clinging to him while he fucked into you. Finally putting your mouth on those strong shoulders. Sucking your teeth into his skin.

“Fuck, Baby!” He moaned. Ohhh you liked that noise. “Gonna make me cum in you if you keep doin’ that.”

You giggled and started doing it more. Hopefully leaving marks behind that would probably be gone in the morning if you did. Kissing all over his neck and to his chest.

He grabbed your neck. Forcing you to look into his blue eyes as he was grinding you onto him. “One more, Babe. I just gotta get one more,” he was slurring his words like he was just as drunk off of you as you were from him, “outta you before I cum in you.”

“Yes!” You moaned walls once again fluttering around him because of his words.

“Yeah you like that?” He hissed. “Like being my little cum slut, huh? Good cuz after this I’m gonna keep fucking you and fucking you. You hear me?” He leaned you back as he started shoving into you again.

“I love being your cum slut,” you whined as another orgasm hit you making you move your hips up and down so he had to pin you. Needing to keep you in place so he could keep hitting it just right.

“Fuck!” He yelled against your neck as it finally caught up to him. Filling you up but not stopping his movements as if he was about to fuck you through it until he stopped and slumped on top of you then quickly getting off of you so you wouldn’t get crushed.

He didn’t waste anytime to pull you into his arms. Cradling you and kissing your forehead over and over. It almost hurt for you to breathe but you already missed the feeling of his heavy cock impaling you over and over again.

“Shit, you okay?” He asked in between his barrage of kisses. You nodded not even being able to say anything back. You’d definitely need time to recover from this.“Wanna takes a bath or something while I clean up?”

“That’s it?” You managed to say.

He chuckled. “It doesn’t have to be. I just thought you’d wanna relax.”

“Not yet,” you replied.

“Okay.” Another kiss went to your lips. Fuck you were enjoying how kissy he is. “I didn’t break you did I?”

“Possibly.”

He laughed a little harder. “I’m sorry. I should have asked for your safe word, but I got so caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay,” you replied.

“Nah. A good dom always asks.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated, suddenly feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. “Funny I so knew you were a freak.”

“How?”

You shrugged. “Nice guys are always freaky. And you’re like super nice so you’re extra extra nasty.”

Not this man’s cheeks turning red. As if he didn’t just try to turn you inside out. “Yeah I guess.”

“And I also saw one of your porn searches one time. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“When?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Remember when we broke into Tony’s account? Well I managed to get into your computer and all I’m saying is that if you wanna tie me up I’m so down.” You looked up at him.

He sighed and shook his head. “You are so bad. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Or what? Gonna spank me?” You teased, sticking your tongue out.

“You wish,” he said grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks in. “Just for that I’m gonna start prepping your ass for my cock.”

He was entirely too big to ever fit but fuck you were more than willing to try.

[zukosgay]

I see you posting about horror and I would love some recs if you have some to share 🙏

i just accidentally deleted a whole list fjahsjdasd i hate my life. anyways, i’m just gonna go ahead and assume you know the classics that get recommended all the time (the babadook, the ring, the exorcist, the vvitch, the conjuring, hereditary, the thing, insidious, etc.). here’s some underrated/indie horror movies i rarely see talked about (favs are in italics):

The not-actually-that-scary-but-still-good horror movies:

Let The Right One In (2008) – I mean, it’s literally my favorite movie/book and I have a tattoo of it, we been knew

Possum (2018) – I cannot even begin to tell you how much I adore this movie. Horror movies about CSA that explore it without once showing the actual rape, but still being terrifying/disturbing nonetheless?? Just an irish guy chilling with the puppet personification of his csa trauma????? Hells yeah (huge TW for spiders tho, i mean. I’m not scared of spiders but that fucking puppet is stil terrifying no matter how much I look at it)

Hard Candy has a soft spot in my heart. That’s my emotional support „ellen page tortures pedophiles“ movie

Thirst (2009)

Ravenous (1999) THE INHERENT ROMANTICISM OF BEING GAY AND CANNIBALS ON A MOUNTAIN. Brokeback mountain for cannibals

We Are What We Are (2010)

Marrowbone (2017)

The transfiguration (2016) – there’s so little vampire stories with black people, and i really loved how this wasn’t outright fantasy horror but had more of a ‚vampirism as an actual mental illness‘ approach

Nightbreed (1990) this movie IS lgbt cinema history

Gerald’s Game (2017) – we get it elena you love horror movies about the trauma of CSA

The autopsy of jane doe (2017) - i feel like this movie is perfect for horror fans who are tentative about seeing any big grotesque/gorey jumpscares 

As Above, So Below (2014) (the first and so far only movie that got permission to film in the paris catacombs) (also good for starters)

The Actually-Scary (at least to me) movies:

Lake Mungo (2008) ((think of TMA’s The End)) (i deadass think about this movie so often, the story is so devastating and really stays in my head. also the bg ghosts)

The [REC] franchise!!! any of those movies fuck me up and are TERRIFYING (again ff) 

I watched 30 Days of Night (2007) when it came out, when i was way too young, and it still to this day holds the spot for coolest vampire design (they modelled them after the jaws of white sharks!!! They’re supposed to be slavic strigoi) and also one of the only one times where i was actually scared by vampires

Livid (2011) (french horror movie!) (v gorey)

The Taking of Deborah Logan (2014) (found footage of a demonic mom – you’ll see a lot of FF on this list cuz i think it’s criminally underrated and terrifying if done well)

NOROI: The Curse (2005) ((ff))

Open water (2003) (this is scary to me because it’s based on a true story about a couple who went cave diving in the ocean with a guide who got LEFT BEHIND in the middle of the motherfucking ocean – with literally nothing to hold onto and no one even reporting them missing. Also, after i watched this i did a lil research and turns out there’s quite a lot of people ‚going missing‘ while taking swimming lessons where the guides will just drive to shore without them YEARLY. Fucked up if true) ((this has tma the vast vibes))

Clown (2014) (I recommend this to people who aren’t scared to like Eli Roth movies and think It Chap. 1 was boring)

Martyrs (2008) – a classic, this movie is bound to disturb you. It’s about child abuse and the survivors of child abuse enacting revenge, though it’s not the typical csa/anything similiar. HUGE tw for uhhhh, torture, self harm, mutilation etc..

Mama (2008) – the goth tattooed rocker chic jessica chastain movie

The bay (2012) (ff)

The last exorcism (2010) (ff)

The wailing (2016)

If you put on any V/H/S movie for me I’m guaranteed to shit my pants, so there’s that

May (2002) – i turned lesbophobic after watching this movie. About a lesbian obsessed with dolls i’ll say nothing more

The not-as-scary-but-still-scary-so-i-dont-wanna-put-them-in-the-first-list-in-case-i-traumatize-anyone movies:

Creep 1 & 2

The Strangers

The void (2016) ((tma the spiral))

The Hallow (2015)

The loved ones (2009) – a classic

Excision (2012) (if you liked raw)

Devil’s pass (2013)

Afflicted (2013) ((ff))

The cell (2000)

Session 9 (2001)

They Look Like People (2015)

The children (2008) – fuck them KIDS

The blackcoat’s daughter (2015)

I really liked Armie Hammer’s netflix original Wounds (2019)? IDK why. I found the story (albeit better suited as a short story) fascinating

Night Eats The World (2018) – another french movie! This time it’s about the inherent isolation and loneliness in locking yourself in a parisian apartment all alone with a bunch of zombies eating the rest of the world

Pontypool (2008)

The lure (2015) – yes, we’re polish, yes, we’re mermaids, yes, we eat men, yes, we also perform in a pop girl group WE EXIST!

I am not a serial killer (2016)

Green room (2015)

That’s it, pretty much. 

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

jameson whiskey send tweet. BLOWHOLE.

A/N: WHALE, WHALE, WHALE KITTEN... here we are... another installment of the siren series with Captain Flip and finding his sultry sea maiden! I hope ya like it kitten @maybe-your-left 🖤. I did a few time jumps to cement the story a little further. If you haven’t read the beginning of my Blowhole series please refer to it in my Masterlist under the Flip Request section for context. 

Warnings: Mild angst, pining (from Flip and us too), mostly plot hardly any porn I’m sorry everyone, mentions of alcohol, mentions of possessive behaviors, masturbation, Flip is an irritable motherfucker as usual, and of course pirate slang slathered throughout the entire story, coupled with Little Mermaid slurs

(Y/N’s POV, the day you saved Flip) 

You startled awake, gasping as a flurry of bubbles left your lips, a nightmare that had stirred you awake from your restless sleep. 

You rubbed your tired eyes, stretching your muscles and tail from the king-sized clamshell bed in your extravagant palace of opalescent towers, gazing out at the majesty of the underwater mecca you’d called home. 

The bustling of merfolk swimming in all directions, schools of fish making their ways in and out of the caverns, and the heart of the city blossoming with light as the shining palace glistened in the light of the morning. 

It was truly a paradise in the depths of a trackless sea, an epicenter of life only visible to those seeking it out the most. And in this hustle and bustle, you felt lost. 

The longing to be free from the chains you’d been given since birth only growing as your age advanced. Being the daughter of the king of the ocean had its perks, including the charmed life you’d grown to know and love. Showered with affection and attention by all who had come to know you, attending galas and balls weekly, being taught the highest educational studies the merpeople could offer, and the access to the most precious possessions in the ocean, to which any man or woman would kill to have. 

But the worst part of all of this was your indifference to it. Yes, as a child the affection and material prizes were all the rage, but as you got smarter, grew into the stunning beauty you were, so was the pressure to uphold the family traditions. 

Those included taking your rightful place on the thrown, with the strongest merman as your king to lead the people in keeping the peace between land and sea, just as your father had done and his father before him. 

This had been cemented into your studies from your preschool years and on, the consequences racking up as your age did, and the pressure to find a suitor as well, which nauseated you to no end. 

One evening at dinner, you’d not been in the mood for foolish tricks, settling to quietly consume your seafood as your parents droned on and on about foreign relations with the land folk and treaties of such nature that you’d tuned out. 

“My darling,” your mother prompted as you were pulled from your distant state, “you haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on sweetheart?” gazing as you shrugged, rolling the shrimp on your fork and pushing your palm into your cheek. 

“It’s nothing mother,” sighing as you took a sip from your chalice, avoiding all eye contact with both parents while the room grew more silent. 

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with her,” your father booming out, stuffing his face with the delicacies like the titan he was, “she’s neglecting her duties!” smacking his lips together and boring his eyes into yours. 

“I am not!” slamming your fork down to lift yourself from your chair, “you don’t even know what it’s like to be me!” tears welling in your eyes as he lifted his hulking body to meet your eye-level. 

“Do not raise your voice at me, Y/N!” he commanded, a swirl of water whirl pooling as he grew angrier and angrier, “you will comply with my choices and you will marry one of our chosen suitors by the end of the full moon celebrations!” forcing an imaginary hold on you to stay in your seat. 

“It’s time you stop fucking around, Y/N!” he bellowed, your emotional state the furthest from his mind as he stuffed tradition down your throat, “you’re not getting any younger!” cementing his point to cause you to wail out in a pained cry. 

“Let me go, father!” squirming in his magical grip as you struggled to release your body from all of the stresses of being in the family, “I don’t want to be someone’s possession! I want to be in love!” screaming with pained tears as you writhed free from him. 

“Love!” he chuckled, the word a foreign thing to him as he married your mother for the sake of treaty, “my sweet stupid siren, you know nothing of love because it doesn’t exist!” his laughs ringing through the dining hall as you sobbed into your hands, your mother trying to comfort you as you were given the harsh reality of the rest of your days in the palace. Her silent tears falling under the mixture of your hurt as well as her own sad significance to her husband.

“Y-you’re w-wrong!” you stifled, heavy cries releasing from your lungs as you grasped for something to parch your aching thirst, wiping the heavy tears that dissipated into the saltwater. 

“Y-you’re s-so w-wrong f-father!” speeding your tail out of the great hall, the echo of his angered voice radiating through the hall as you burst out of the castle, swimming at the fastest speeds you could. 

Your tears clouding your directions as you rocketed through the masses of folk passing through the town square, fish hurrying their way out of yours as you cried through your pain. 

“I-I’ve got to g-get out of h-here!” you hiccuped as the lights faded from your view, the darkness of the ocean enveloping you in a mysterious veil as you tried to curb your sobs. 

You stilled your breath, stopping in the abyss to gather your surroundings, knowing you were far enough from home for your father to pull you back with his vortex with the flick of his wrist. Scoffing in sobs and flipping the bird in the direction as a thunderous roll hummed through the ocean. 

The light from above striking the surface in a lightning cloud as thunder boomed from the skies, your eyes gazing at the majesty from below as you solitarily floated in the swells, watching the huge waves ebb over each other in a frenzy. 

Suddenly, a huge object grew over the surface, the oval shape of it covering the crackling sky above, pulling you towards it like a beacon. 

Your tail moving unconsciously as you neared the large wooden hull, noticing its undoubtedly characteristic figures from the books you’d nosed through in your study. 

“Holy sh-,” barely getting the words out as a crack of light shot through the bottom of the ship, sending debris into the seas as the wooden vessel disintegrated before you. 

Bodies strewn amongst barrels of alcohol, cannonballs, and masts fell to the depths of the ocean, maneuvering the wreckage as you surveyed the devastation. 

Amongst the chaos, floating in the ebbs of the depths, you noticed the most striking being you’d ever come across in your years. His ravened hair flowing in the ocean as his lifeless body rag-dolled in the currents, his chiseled features glimmering in the crackling lightning as you came closer to his hulking figure. 

Running your scaled hands over his nose, his facial hair, his plush lips as you finally came to grips with what you had to do. Taking his dead weight into your arms as you turbo your way from the shipwreck, the bubbles trailing your tail as you figured out your next move. 

The panic set in when you realized this man wasn’t like you, his pulse no doubt fading the longer he was under the ocean. 

You hastily tried to find a speck of sand, bobbing your head up and down out of the water as you clung to the surface, trying to give him the slightest bit of oxygen as the thunder rolled over the stormy seas. 

“Come the fuck on!” you cried out, looking left and right as you caught the glimpse of a palm tree wavering in the hurricane winds several miles away. 

You barreled yourself and your extra weight towards the shores, dragging his thick muscle onto the sand as the wind howled through the patch of trees settled in the middle of nowhere. 

Laying him out on his back, trying to shield him from the ebbs of the shores, and the debris flying through the air as you surrounded him with your slick tail. Holding his deadened face in your chest as you covered him from the turbulence above. 

“Dammit, dad!” grunting into his ravened hair, cursing the swells that had grown familiar to you when he’d been stirred the wrong way, “would you fucking calm down?!” yelling into the thundering greyness that only swirled into a bigger frenzy as you gave it life. 

“Fine!” you screamed out, the swells howling as the clapping continued over the vast sea, “I’ll do whatever you fucking want, just please, stop this tantrum!” tears streaming down your face as the words left your lips, sentencing you to a life of loveless encounters all for the good of the merpeople. 

Upon your claims, clouds cracked, the thunder dissipated, and the waves calmed as if there hadn’t been a tsunami wrecking the open ocean in the slightest. Seagulls squawked as they elevated into the clear blue sky, the smell of the sea penetrating your aching lungs. 

The sun crept through the whitening clouds, beaming its light on the tanned shores, your eyes squinting as the tears steamed off your cheeks in the searing fireball. Choking on air as you savored the last moments of your freedom, feeling the land beneath you and the spray of the seashore on your tear-stained face.

“T-thank you,” the bile straining from your throat as you gagged back the fake appreciation, looking back to your sailor, his skin glowing in the sunlight as you removed your tail from his body. 

He stirred underneath you, heaving his chest as he puked up seawater, gasping for air as he writhed on the sand. 

“H-holy f-fuck!” grunting out, trying to shield his eyes as you quickly shape-shifted to avoid more shocking revelations from your handsome stranger. 

His thick pectorals straining in his shirt as he coughed up more spit and water, trying to grip himself back to reality. 

His eyes straining upwards towards your silhouette, the frame of the sunlight sitting perfectly on your glistening face, your nude form covered in sand as it clung to the beads of water sporadically strewn on your legs and arms. 

“H-hello?” he strained out, taking in your features as you melted in his amber gaze below, his honeyed bellow rippling through your shocked body embracing you in a warmth hotter than the beating sun. 

Your breath left with the tropical winds as you watched him sit up towards you, his chiseled tanned features becoming more human as he gained more consciousness. You felt something you’d only read in storybooks, something you had hoped for, ever since you were a guppy.

You stared at him, watching his chest heave in and out, his rippling arms gathering himself to sit up, his grunted breaths penetrating the sea air over the waves crashing around him. 

“Well good morning to you too, sailor,” you sang out in the most enchanting melody possible, losing yourself in lust as the morning peaked over the palm trees. 

Figuring that you had sentenced yourself to a lifetime of duty to your people, what was the harm in getting at least one romantic fling before heading back to reality? 

And it devoured your body up and down, right in the sandy shores of the Atlantic. 

__________________

(Flip’s POV, in search of Y/N)

The heavy swells of the sea cast over the proud Jolly Roger, relentlessly plowing through the white water in the bright light of an Atlantic morn. The course had been set by the fearless buccaneer in his quest to find his elusive mermaid lover, his focus not wavering even when he laid to rest his eyes at night. 

He filled his head with folktales and legends of the lost city, hoping to find an Easter egg to lead him closer to his precious prize. Every port they landed on, he was nose deep in the libraries, swilling rum to curb his irritation at the exclusivity of information on these folk and where they hid their secrets.

“There has to be something,” he sat in the candlelight, puzzling as he rubbed his ravened mustache, maps and books strewn over his desk, combined with notes he’d added to help or hinder his progress. 

“For fuck’s sake there has to be!” slamming his fist down, throwing the texts on his wooded floor in a thud, rubbing his temples as he filled his cup with another helping of his precious hooch. Slamming a shot or two down with large gulps as he fed the demon brewing within, becoming more and more frustrated at his dwindling expertise. 

He had found treasures buried in the bellies of beasts for God’s sake, been to all corners of the ocean, even dared to look Davey Jones in his squid tentacles and spit on the ground he walked on. It couldn’t be that fucking hard to find his precious scaled dame, who captured his heart and wracked his brain every single day since the moment your sultry eyes met his. 

He got up from his seat, rubbing a hand through his silken waves as he sighed. Taking another swill of his poison to cleanse his dried throat, rubbing his eyes from the headache that had built up in his desperate attempts at finding a sign. 

“I just need to quit for the night,” heavily sighing at his failures, angrily going to remove his effects from his person, his tensed muscles aching as he rubbed the back of his neck in a strained groan. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he growled, stripped down to his skivvies as his half hardened cock waved in the motions of the ebbs and flows of the ship, the pained movements egging the erection to grow harder and harder coupled with his thoughts of you. 

He laid in his chambers, the warm light caressing his freckled skin, showcasing his muscular form as he propped himself to stifle his need for your soft pussy. 

The more he laid staring at the ceiling, the more he conjured up thoughts of you. How perfect your hair glimmered in the warm sunlight, your enchanting eyes swirling in his mind, boring into him as if you had actually been in the room. Your glistening skin that gave off an opalescent hue in the light of the beach that morning, your perfectly pouted lips, begging to be covered in his as you coaxed him to you. 

He laid uncomfortably now, eyes furrowing as he gripped his mast in his thick digits, slipping his wet tip in them to slide the moisture down his veiny shaft, “Y/N,” he whimpered, his mind racing with more images of you that morning, “Y/N please,” begging as he sped up his motions on his throbbing cock. 

Your perfectly plump tits, shimmering on the sand, grit covering parts of your coconut-scented skin, the curve of your ass showcasing your siren charms as you coaxed his mind into his own pleasured memories. 

‘What are you gonna do to me sailor?’ a melodic and enchanting voice ringing through his psyche as he palmed his girth in his hand, his balls tensing as he thought of you and your wiles. 

“Oh fuck darlin’,” he sped up his assault, “I-I’m gonna storm your shores so f-fuckin’ hard,” he groaned, feeling his orgasm build and build on his fantasy of you sand-covered, begging for his cock, “y-you’ll be cummin’ in w-waves on m-my, f-fuck!” he cried out feeling the heat spread over his lower half. 

His motions speeding and squeezing on his Kraken even harder as he finished his thoughts, ‘come on captain,’ you purred, covering your body in more and more sand as it stuck to your glistening curves, ‘blow your load all over me,’ your lips whispering to him as your eyelashes batted in his direction. 

“O-oh f-fuck!” he shouted, his release clouding the image of you as he snapped back to reality. Hot cum spurting in waves as he dumped his wasted spend on his chiseled abs, balls tightening as it cascaded down over his knuckles. 

“M-mother f-fuck,” groaning as he threw his head back into his pillow, feeling the wetness cover his hand as he finished his ministrations, recoiling after it began to feel like too much on his softening cock. 

 He glanced down at the mess, huffing and puffing at the wasted release, shuttering as he saw the amount that had come out of him. He wished it was six feet deep in your velvet cunt. Wished it was dispersing itself in your vacant womb, seeding itself so deep that he’d marked you his forever. 

He shook his head, the ache returning in his temples as he laid there. Completely spent from his quest, wishing you were laying on his chest, smelling your tropical scent on his nostrils. Feeling the kinks and curls of your freshly fucked hair, hearing your sweet breaths escape your lips as he’d try to kiss on them before lulling you to sleep in his chambers. He only wished. 

Suddenly, a series of hasted knocks threw him out of his daydreams, the sound of Ron begging him to open up. 

“Captain! Captain!” he cried, seemingly in distress, as Flip hurried to make himself decent, throwing on his pantaloons and white undershirt, grunting as the knocks came quicker and quicker. 

“Hold the fuck on!” he bellowed, slamming his boots on the wooded floor to kick the books he’d previously thrown from his desk, ready to strangle his mate for disturbing him so late. 

Throwing open the heavy door “what the hell is going on, Ron?” his clearly irritated demeanor causing his buddy to jump back, shying away as his intentions seemed to be overzealous in their action. 

Flip lifted to his full height, crossing his arms to practically cover the doorway, the smallest slivers of light from his room emitting in a halo around his head, huffing his chest to hear what the commotion was about. 

“Uhmmm, Z,” he timidly questioned, not making eye contact with his captain as he knew the second he’d panic knocked, he’d signed a death warrant on himself, “I-I think you need to see this,” leading to the doorway that pulled them on the main deck of the massive ship. 

“See what, Ron?” gritting out as he lumbered behind him, a mixture of puzzled and pissed as he helped him jiggle the latches on the double doors. 

The cool sea air penetrated their faces, the sounds of the waves crashing the hull as it pushed its way in the set course, the night sky spotted with bright stars and a moon that illuminated the entire ocean as his night crew was busy with their chores, raising and lowering the sheets to readjust the direction from the winds. 

Ron led him to the captain’s wheel, being manned by a crewman who had taken Ron’s station for him to alert Flip to the sight. The man scurried away when he saw them approach, Ron gripping the wheel to keep the ship in the right direction as his other hand gripped the telescope laying by the maps given to him. 

“Here,” he gestured, placing the tool in his captain’s hand as he lifted to extend it out to look through, “about two paces to the right from where the ship is headed,” he pointed, to which Flip did as his mate had told him. 

Zeroing in on the spot he’d mentioned, eyes squinting as he took in the scene from the spyglass, “what the fu-?” he adjusted the fine vision on the lens to reveal something he’d never seen before in his life. 

A bright beam of lights, emitting from the horizon, colored in blue and green hues as it danced on the trackless shoreline they were headed. The streams seemed to pulse with life as they danced on the waves, the stars beaming through as the light show continued on and on. 

“What do you think it is?” Ron’s voice, stern but concerned as Flip closed the glass to glance over at him. 

He huffed, stalking over to the maps on the other side, looking at them to see what the answer could possibly be, caressing his goatee as he forked through the latitudes and longitudes. 

Dragging his large index finger over the directions he’d mapped out, looking at landmarks, squinting as the light of the night didn’t help his vision. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the possible answer, shimmering in the light of the moon like a beacon, calling to him like your siren song had rung through his ears that day. 

“This,” he slammed a sausage down, a devilish smirk painting his face as he glazed over the name labeled on the parchment. 

Ron glanced down to notice the name inked on the spot, looking in his direction, noticing his demeanor changed in an instant as he marveled at the map. 

“The Bottom,” he chanted, as he gripped the ship’s wheel, watching Flip snap into action, a frenzy of map tracking and smiles at his traction gained on finding his prize. 

“The Bottom, Ron,” he chuckled, the both of them looking up as the lights grew larger in the sky, seemingly large fingers coaxing the Roger towards it in an enchanting procession. 

“You really think it’s there?” he steered puzzled now as the lights brought them closer and closer, Flip’s eyes beaming with the shadows of them as he was entranced by the thoughts of you in his arms again. 

“Only one way to find out, buddy,” he grinned, placing his buccaneer’s cap on his thick locks, reaching for the bottle that was kept on top of the map. 

Taking a large swig of sweet nectar to let out a huge gasp, rubbing the remainder from his mustache as he tossed the vice to his mate, who took a swig too, aiming the ship still as he gripped the glass. 

“We gotta go to the bottom of that barrel, Ron,” cocking an eyebrow as he prepared his crew for all that would be beyond the lights. 

_______________

WILL HE FIND YOU IN TIME BEFORE YOU’RE SHIPPED OFF TO MARRY ANOTHER UGLY FUCK? 

FIND OUT ON THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF BLOWHOLE AND HIS SIREN LOVE!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

[smoria]

let me see if i can give y’all a little something from episode two of wentworth:

aka why does anyone ever like to read what i write? i appreciate it, but sincerely... why?

just an fyi: i’m gonna do an episode two reaction on @xxlshortcake​ . i normally don’t and maybe i shouldn’t after the two part premiere reaction with a thirst cut on here and a tide you over with the somebody’s watching me short edit, but i need something to tide me over since i have wiped riverdumpsterfire from my list of shows because i can’t deal with it anymore.

the fact that joan has all that cash on her and has a suspect as fuck dude that just knows where she is going is without a doubt one of the S T U P I D E S T things this woman has done. i get she is living on the lamb and under an alias, but this guy asked questions and she thought it was smart to do that. he knocked her whole soul out her skull and ass. that skull rocking hit me at the time i finished watching episode five of fucking adelaide that also has pamela rabe was in and she was smashed in the skull as well.

one thing i did not need to see on the real was ann getting railed. who thought that was brilliant? also, another thing i didn’t need to see was another puking scene from vera. i get she’s a bit of a lightweight, but at least it was a while before they did it again.

i still have issues with vera’s dress, but honestly, it is in her style to wear it so i shouldn’t be surprised. imo, it just doesn’t fit her well. she was cute though. i always love her in a work uniform though. i would eat her ass... no doubt.

i give jake trying to be a good dad, but that window being opened was most definitely not vera’s idea so jake’s dumbass would be like “why would vera leave that window open?” i still hate his ken doll looking ass with a passion though. this changes jack shit.

i actually enjoyed seeing vera going out and having a good time. it was fucking clear that it was time and i’m glad to have witnessed it. i’m still gonna harp on that dress though. that little weasel fucker who tried to dance with my wife was gonna catch these hands and i was ready to catch a case. he seemed nice enough, but yeah... no.

marie... marie... i’m not gonna lie: I FUCKING LAUGHED. you immediately think she’ll ruin his career by laughing the allegation, a very true allegation, of misconduct by revealing will had an sexually charged relationship with him, but she wanted ruby dead so it is no surprise that she exposed her for the murder of her son. we know what danny did and it was clear she wanted to only knock him out.

will and vera enjoy getting into trouble together. he learns the truth, but also wants to keep his promise to rita that he’ll take care of her sister. it causes an internal and external conflict. vera just waltzes right into it and cannot help her fucking self apparently. she wants to be a good mother and she is one at that, but she cannot continue to help people do this.

all in all, it was an enjoyable episode. i would still eat vera’s ass despite that dress because that was tragic honey.

[mattskeebah]

PLEASE READ

I know how much y’all hate “your fave is problematic” posts...but it’s necessary.

Summary: Matt Skiba, singer of the band Alkaline Trio and member of Blink-182, has nazi tattoos, is a fan of nazi bands, made tasteless nazi related paintings, is best friends with Boyd Rice, and in fact, owns nazi insignia. Matt claims to be a feminist but likes countless scantily clad pics of young models and sex workers and follows actual porn actresses on IG. Also, he never distanced himself from Asia Argento and still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his webstore. Matt supports the police and the military and he has a weird gun fetish. He attacked fans who criticized his behavior and his problematic associations.

---

WHY I STOPPED BEING A FAN OF MATT SKIBA

He supports the police as an instutition, specifically Chicago PD. He made a post on Instagram in favor of CPD which ofc received backlash from fans but he ignored the negative comments and brushed it off as “there are bad people in every profession” and then he deleted the post. Thanks to a Tumblr user who screencapped it: [x] please notice the tiny blue (lives matters) heart. Also, here are some “cute” pics of him wearing police-related stuff [x] [x] and check out this post of him “repping” new CPD merch on his car [x] (he disabled the comments).

He supports the military, which might be because his parents served in the Vietnam war, but that doesn’t make it less shitty. Examples for his military-support can be found all over his Instagram. [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] and so on... and in this post he’s delighted that a soldier in Afghanistan is wearing an Alkaline Trio patch. [x]

He’s close friends with Asia Argento / or had possible romantic relationship with her and he still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his merch shop. For those of you who don’t know her, she was one of the leaders of the #metoo movement but then it was revealed that she herself had sex with an intoxicated 17-year-old (!) and her bf Anthony Bourdain gave the boy money so he would keep his mouth shut about the incident, ((later Bourdain committed suicide))

Story of a fan who gave Matt a letter criticizing him for being friends with Argento, and the same night he posted a picture of her on IG (I think it was this post)… which seems like a subtle F*CK YOU at the person who gave him the letter. (he can’t take criticism, can he?)

His IG activity is .. something else. Matt’s major interests are motorbikes, cars, and young, attractive, half-naked models and strippers. One of his recent likes (nudity and bruises cw) [x] [x] [x] [x]….that one is an actual porn actress he follows and thirsts over: (more nudity cw) [x] he commented ‘cool butt momma. miss you xoxo’ [x] [x] (liked)…and my “personal fave” a picture with a sex worker [x] he deleted the picture ofc

HE LOVES GUNS (+said that he would use them) he has quite a big gun collection: SIG SAUERs, a Morning Star, many knifes, a shotgun, a Desert Eagle gun, a samurai sword, a faux snakeskin baton, and more stuff I can’t remember, he posted his collection on November 5th 2018 on IG, but unfortunately I didn’t take a screenshot!! but he posted them individually on IG. [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and a recently deleted pic at the shooting range [x] ……also this pic exists.. edgelord (tw gun to the head).

In the comments of the same post (I swear on my life it’s real, you have to trust me) a user commented that he’s a Trump supporter but he would still defend Matt, even if he’s “politically left”. Matt’s answer: “I would defend you too, my man!”. o k a y. then Matt said he identifies as “quite a bit left” o K AY. MATT. Just so btw. the user also had a name including “88″ ( is a code phrase commonly used in fascist circles for “Heil Hitler”) or he just meant the year 88. but I saw some racist “memes” on his IG too.

Matt has a weird obsession with WW2. He literally watched a holocaust docu on HIS FUCKING BDAY (or at least he posted about it) and he said he collects WW2 books. Theoretically, nothing wrong with being interested in history, but in the context of everything… bad vibes……….

He really loves Nordic/Scandinavian-related stuff, like jewelry of the Hammer of Thor etc and he even uses MS runes for his merch. Runes are popular among occultists but they also have a really problematic history concerning WW2 and the nazis. Considering one of his most favorite bands Death in June mentions runes in their lyrics and they are a REALLY REALLY questionable band flirting with nazi imagery and being openly affiliated with fascist and far-right satanists, I have every right to question Matt’s intentions.

He literally has a crutch cross tattoo on his chest (which was used as the symbol of Austro-Fascism, and is also the logo of the neo folk - nazi band Blood Axis) PHOTO 1, PHOTO 2 and an EDELWEISS tattoo [x], which is the national flower of Austria and is considered a magical flower in occult circles. Nothing wrong with having a flower tattoo but it was used a lot in the context of nationalsocialism and “traditional values”. To add, it was also used as a symbol of the 1st Mountain division “Gebirgsjäger” in WW2 (Hitler’s elite formation of the Wehrmacht who were involved in large scale war crimes). 

Matt OWNS NAZI INSIGNIA. He is wearing a WW2 Edelweiss patch in this pic [x] and here [x] combined with a crutch cross patch (Alk3 used an iron cross backdrop at their concerts 2014ish and a crutch cross symbol on their guitar picks btw.)

He owns several Death In June patches, their merch [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and other patches and buttons featuring nazi-related symbols. [DIJ WIKI]. He is also friends with their singer. Matt’s a huge DIJ fan, attended their concerts [x] and Douglas P. reads the intro of the Alkaline Trio song “I Found Away”. DIJ uses fascist symbols and “aesthetics” for the band, including an SS Totenkopf logo.

Matt painted the same logo and exhibited it at an art show [x]

HE LITERALLY DID PAINTINGS REFERENCING DOLLFUSS AND MUSSOLINI and another piece of “art” called “surf nazis” [x] what the actual f   u    c  k .. and here he is with his painting of Mickey Mouse as Hitler [x]

HE IS BEST FRIENDS with Boyd Rice, (here’s a picture of them holding Wolfsangels, a nazi symbol) they are REALLY CLOSE. According to Rice’s IG they meet every week and hang out and Rice considers Matt “family”… the entire Boyd Rice shit can be read in this post (important please read). Matt even attacked fans that were calling him out and called them stupid.

The first liked video on his Youtube channel is a video about neo-nazi biker gangs in Germany....... [x]

He is friends with Kat von D, she did a few of his tattoos and she appeared in the Alk3 video “Help Me”.

He collabed with Jeffree Star on a violent song [x]

He was at an art show of a friend who used nazi symbols (!)

posts like these [x] [x]

In this interview [x] he’s pretty much romanticizing that people got stabbed back then at concerts and that there was a big skinhead scene (he wasn’t “stoked” about the violence happening BUT “the energy surrounding” was “very ATTRACTIVE” to him. Make of that what you will.)

When he was a sophomore in HS (and on acid) he beat up a classmate who threw a U.S. flag on the floor. [x]

Matt made a racist remark a few years ago about Chinese people [x] and according to him //or he’s joking// he has a tattoo on his dick that says “welcome to Jamaica” which can be interpreted as racist.

Many of the movies he praises blatantly depict violence against women, like Blue Velvet, Funny Games, A Clockwork Orange (it has almost 3 rape scenes in the first 15 minutes), lyrics like “Radio” can be seen as misogynist, he literally wishes that his ex-GF (/or someone’s ex-gf) should take a bath with a radio and get electrocuted.

A person on IG commented that his ex-girlfriend accused him of domestic violence, I have no proof for that but he deleted the comments ofc and then a few days later he donated money to a women’s shelter in LA… which seems like he’s trying to avoid a shitstorm…

He compared L.A. women to zoo animals in this interview [x].

He cheated on his ex-gf(s) which I think should go on this list too.

Matt used to be a member of the Church of Satan, just leaving this here. you can argue if it’s good or bad but there seems to be a connection between satanists and neo-nazis .. sadly.

He listed the song* “Los Angeles” by X among his faves in this interview [x] (*edit: Someone has reached out to me and explained that the song was not racist, antisemitic or anything but from the *perspective* of a racist. However, we don't know Matt's reason for liking the song and considering his WW2 fetish, it's sketchy that he would consider the song as one of his favorites. Maybe he likes it because the song openly says things out loud under the veil of "sarcasm" that would be criticized under different circumstances. See also: [Oscar Wild was right.] Matt still listened to the band in 2014 and was at a concert of them [x], even months after their singer spew right-wing conspiracy theories concerning (school) shootings.

THIS FUCKING PICTURE OF HIM WITH A CHARLES MANSON DOLL AND A SW*STIKA. He still had the doll in other pictures [x] [x].

This picture I found on a fansite. It’s supposed to be Matt as a child.. where does that even come from and why is he wearing a military hat with something that vaguely looks like an eagle (?)

I can’t be the only one who noticed that but Matt had a vaguely ~nazi haircut thoughout the years and even some sort of nazi / white power aesthetic~ going on, even fans recognized it as such [x] [x] [x] and in the context of him hanging out with Boyd Rice like this in this picture [x] it’s safe to say he was EXACTLY GOING FOR THAT LOOK.

When he was in Germany during the Blink-182 tour 2017 he proudly posed at a famous Third Reich location in the Alps. Yk. nothing wrong with visiting historical locations but in the context of everything mentioned in this post. IT LOOKS REALLY BAD.

…probably more.. this man is a walking disaster

- - -

In this post I listed a lot, there are probably some things you would consider “minor” because they happened years ago but I thought I’d mention them anyway. Also, I’m not saying he has those beliefs but he definitely doesn’t distance himself from nazi(-sympathizing) scum like Boyd Rice and keeps being BFFs with him. And what’s up with the problematic tattoos and WWII insignia? I can’t be the only one who thinks this is not okay!!!

Thanks for reading.

[officially-tonynat-shrine]

How To Keep A Secret

(A/N): I'm back!! And I'm not proud of myself because I've procrastinated this for a long long time. This fic was supposed to be up by October 2018. It's been bloody five months. I'm sorry for being a dick @spideypeach. I hope you like this. 😭💖💛 I'm sorry once again :(

Also, Happy Birthday, Barnes!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader // Word Count: around 2.1k

Prompt (highlighted in the fic): "How do you know that?! Only like, seven people know that!" (I have kind of changed the prompt to suit the fic)

Summary: Some things are best kept secret. Some are not. // Warnings: exploitation of the fact that Bruce knows Hindi? It's explained at the end, of course☺️. (Shitty writing?)

••••

"You know, for a group of extremely observant, stealthy operatives they are extremely dumb."

Bucky chuckled at your statement. He rolled over to face you, metal arm hovering over yours- which was around his torso- before cautiously bringing it around you waist. He brought you closer to him. You craned your neck and kissed him on the chin, the thin silk sheets barely covering your modesty. He snuggled you in his arms, his metal arm softly stroking your back as he kissed your head.

"Doll", he started after letting out a content sigh, "if they find out then I won't be the world's deadliest assassin. Imagine holding that title and not even being able to sneak around the people you know so damn well!"

You whined as he tried to get up, not wanting to let go of him so soon.

"Baby, it's already 6 am. Steve will be wondering where I am."

"Don't go." You whined again.

"Now, I wouldn't have to go if it weren't for someone insisting on keeping up the charade, right?" He sang.

"Ugh, damn, I'm not liking the bet now."

"Well, you can always accept defeat."

"Aw, hell nah!"

"Is that bet really worth all this trouble, doll?" Bucky pouted.

"Ooh, no. Hell, no. I know what you're doing, Barnes. Your puppy eyes won't work on me." You turned your face from him, hoping that he would stop attacking you with the famous 'Buck Eyes'.

Till date, no one but Tony had been able to avoid them. From the day Tony had flipped the finger at 'Buck Eyes', everyone worshipped the ground Tony walked on and Bucky was constantly trying to get Tony to yield.

"But baby," Bucky whined.

You giggled, lightly pushing him away.

"Go on and join that cockblock of your best friend, love."

He guffawed at your nickname for his best friend.

"Honestly, Bucky. I'm telling you. He already knows. How else can he cockblock us five times in three days?! That'd take some serious coincidences."

"Well, I have a way of finding out whether or not he knows." Bucky smirked.

"And what might that involve?"

"Well," he mused, "it's very simple. Only involves you and me fuc-"

"Bucky!"

"What?!" He laughed. That cheeky brat.

≈≈≈

"You're late."

Bucky took his eyes off the flowers growing on the sidewalk and faced his best friend. Steve was standing with his arms crossed across his chest, the extremely tight white t-shirt threatening to break its seams.

"And you still haven't bought clothes that fit you."

"You had a good night's sleep?" Steve asked, ignoring the man's statement.

"Yeah." He smiled as he thought of you. More specifically, him in your arms.

Steve nodded. He had been afraid that after the Germany debacle, it would be very difficult to change things back to normal. He remembered the countless nights he had been up thinking about how in hell he could apologize to Tony. He knew he had made a mistake. He admitted it. But he had feared that Tony would never accept it- and rightfully so. He had, after all, hurt his friend. But fortunately it seemed like everything worked out well.

It had taken some time, but the billionaire had warmed up to Bucky and now it seemed that they even considered each other friends.

"What are ya thinking of, pal?" Steve wouldn't have noticed but everyone else, Bucky included, agreed on the fact that Steve's Brooklyn mannerisms had made a comeback now that Bucky was around more. They could see him fall back into 40's self. Sam appreciated it a lot. Mostly because a lot of the 40s slang gave him content to tease Steve and Bucky with.

Steve would never admit it out loud but he personally was grateful for Sam and Bucky's playful bickering. It brought out Bucky's 40s snarky habits. Although he had observed that Bucky had been exceptionally happier for the past six months or so. Especially in the company of the newest addition to their weird family. You.

Steve was not blind. His best friend may be a world renowned and feared assassin but he was as smooth as Steve when it came to wooing dames of the 21st century. And Steve was sure he wasn't hallucinating when he had seen Bucky stare at you on countless occassions. And his suspicions were only confirmed furthermore when Nat and Sam had approached him the day before.

≈≈≈

He was staring at (Y/N) again. This had become a common occurrence in the past two weeks. Everytime (Y/N) would enter or exit a room, Bucky's eyes would follow the retreating figure. Steve wanted to confront Bucky but knowing him, he would never get straight answers.

"You've seen it too, haven't you?" Natasha's accusing tone caught his attention.

Steve turned to the fiery redhead questioningly but when he faced her he knew what she was talking about. He sighed, "I know. I have my doubts too. But you know him. He won't talk!"

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't help them." Sam said, from the chair nearby.

Steve opened his mouth to explain for the hundredth time how Bucky would just cut their balls off before asking for help when he realised what Sam said.

"Wait. What do you mean 'help them?"

Sam smirked wildly before leaning forward as if he were about to disclose the biggest secret. He whispered, "You see, while you two were busy observing Barnes gawking at (Y/N), I was keeping tabs on (Y/N). Wanna know what I concluded?"

"She likes him too!" Natasha whispered scandalously.

"Exactly. And that's why we must focus on (Y/N) rather than trying to get Barnes to confess. Because all of us know that Barnes is one stuck up idiot."

≈≈≈

It was quite late in the night when Bucky woke up thirsty and hungry. He groggily sat up on the bed and felt around for your warm body. Of course, you had sneaked out. The bet was really getting on Bucky's nerves now. He was this close to kissing you in front of everyone and carrying you with, to his room.

Bucky staggered out of his room, muttering angry curses.

"Fucking bet. Fucking pride and ego. How in fresh hell can Nat not figure this one out?! Isn't she supposed to be a fucking spy-"

"-I'm telling you, they were giving each other heart eyes!"

"Nat, are you sure? If Bucky wanted to hide it, he wouldn't have so obnoxiously stared at her."

"Steve, we have talked about this how many times now? All of us have established that Barnes is putty when it comes to (Y/N), we-"

Before anyone could hear or see him, Bucky retraced his steps away from the approaching silhouettes and back to his room, thirst and hunger forgotten. His smile could have rivalled the Sun. He giddily tip-toed back to his room and noiselessly shut the door. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

The next day, Bucky got up to FRIDAY. Not exactly what he had anticipated but he couldn't have been bothered by anything that day. He had a plan ready and it was simple. All he needed was an observant audience.

"Mr. Barnes, Mr. Stark requests everyone's presence in the common room by two o'clock. The Wakandan quinjets will reach the hangar by 02:15 pm."

Bucky glanced at the vintage clock- courtesy of Sam and Tony- beside his bed. 10 o'clock. He still had time.

You had just worn your gym outfit when you heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!"

"Well, don't you look beautiful?"

Before you could turn around to greet your boyfriend, Bucky snuck his arms around your waist. You giggled, trying to escape his grip, "Bucky someone might see!"

"No one's home, doll. Sam, Nat and Steve decided to go grocery shopping, Rhodey and Bruce dragged Tony out of his lab to grab breakfast, Clint and Scott will come over only by one, Thor will arrive at two and-"

"Okay! Okay, I get the picture, lover boy!" You tittered. "How about we go for a walk then? We haven't done that in a while."

Bucky decided that it would be a good idea to hint about Steve and Nat knowing when the two of you would be returning to the Tower. That way you won't have enough time to register that he might be up to something. Although he would only realise later that the scene the both of you would walk into definitely would not need any fuelling from his side.

≈≈≈

Peter decided that reaching the Tower by 01:30 pm was a great decision on his behalf. He did not think anyone would be in the Tower and he could easily slip into the gym to practice some new moves.

"Kid, you are not stepping into the gym for two more weeks." Tony's voice boomed from behind him as Peter crossed the common room. Cursing his luck he turned around hoping that he could convince- any thought of convincing anyone vanished into things air when he saw five of the adults staring down at him. Silently sliding back into the common room he settled down and stuck his earphones in his ears.

"... Wouldn't be a problem, I mean we can always team them up against each other-"

He must have dozed off. He deduced that there were about five to six people in the room. He knew that Tony was speaking before being interrupted.

"Yes, but if they want to hide it they might protest-"

"Heavens, Rogers why do you have to be so pessimistic-"

"I'm not being pessimistic, I'm just stating the possibilities!"

"Fine! IF they start protesting then we'll just force them together."

"But then Bucky will know that we know that-"

"Jesus, kitna Buck Buck karta hai."

"I know that's Hindi, Bruce."

"Rogers, stop deviating from the topic."

"Can I ask what in fresh fuck is happening here?"

The dead silence prompted Peter to get up and look around. He could feel the awkwardness radiating off of Steve. Somehow everyone else was either jubliantly smirking or utterly confused. (Y/N) being the latter.

"Well, hello there, fossil. (N/N)." Natasha grinned.

"Nat, what are you up to?" You cautiously asked. God knows what these little shits had been up to while Bucky and you had been out.

"We might know something." Tony breached the topic. "Something specifically related to you."

"Me?"

"And Bucky, of course."

You stilled. You could see Peter perking up at Tony's declaration. Of course he wanted 'the tea'. Sometimes you wondered how Tony and Peter were not related.

"So y'all gonna kiss or not?" Sam bluntly asked.

"What?!"

Peter could see the tension on your features.

"How do you know that?! How long have you known?! And who told you? I don't remember-"

As your gaze fixated on Peter's he yelled, "I swear I didn't do it! I did not tell them! Only like seven people know, I swear!"

Peter meekly scanned the room and seeing almost every other person's face painted in confusion, he awkwardly shrunk into the sofa.

"Kid, what are you talking about?"

"The same thing that you guys are inisuating."

"And that is?" Steve prompted.

"How you guys came to know that Bucky and (Y/N) are dating?" Peter squeaked.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?"

Natasha swirled facing the two of you, shock and excitement written all over her face.

"YOU TWO ARE DATING?!"

It was utter chaos in the room. Steve was trying to calm Sam down and Nat was ranting on and on about how she could not have noticed it.

"I'm a fucking spy, goddammit!"

"Oh my God, are you guys done screaming my ears out?" Bucky asked calmly.

"Did you know that they know?!"

"Doll, how would I know-"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"The fuck kinda-"

"Guys! Guys! Guys! Why is this even important? Everybody knows everything, nothing to hide, can't we move on and let this slide?"

"That was good."

"Thanks, man."

"Wait a minute. Pete, I don't care how you got to know about us. What did you mean by only seven people know it?!"

"Uh, well, I- I- I- you know, seven? Yeah, I mean, I know, you know, Bucky knows, and- and- um-"

"And the White Wolf and Spiderman?" You deadpan.

"Yes! Yes! They know too."

"Peter, I am the White Wolf and you are Spiderman."

Peter let out a sigh of defeat and stuttered, "Itoldnedandauntmaythedayigottoknowandthenifacetimedshurisoeveryoneinwakandaknows."

"I only got Ned and face timed."

"Well, I may or may not have told Ned and Aunt May and then proceeded to have FaceTime Shuri. May be." Peter answered evasively.

"So everyone except us." Natasha barked, still annoyed that she wasn't able to find out.

"Yeah, basically." Peter casually answered before thinking for a few seconds and added, "does this mean I'll be able to join the super secret meetings?"

"Oh hell no!"

••••

(A/N): did y'all like it?

"Kitna Buck Buck karta hai" is a pun of sorts. The sentence basically means, "[name] blabbers a lot." 'buck buck' (or bak bak, as it is written) means blabbering. Guess, you'll understand the rest ;)

Tagging some lovelies for validation: @shamelessbookaddict @emilyshurley @thebookwormslytherin @trashpanda-barnes @messy-random-bitch

[minstrivia]

—profile breakdown of stripper!hoseok

id never forget abt my boy stripper!hoseok. so here we go on profile breakdown. my dude stripper!hoseok is also a very expensive one; works in the same club as my boy jimin. no rivalry though. my boys are basically the top of the top strippers and most loved(and requested) at the club. in terms of thirsty ladies, hoseok is a big fucking tease and an equally huge joker y’all. listen. he’s all abt actually interacting with the girls and harmlessly playing. he likes to have his fun once in a while. when he’d just stroll his way in the vip room, more than 7 girls instantly eye fucking him from the comfort of the plush velvet couch as they sipped on their fruity drinks or whatever. he was a tad sweaty—having just finished a performance, hair pushed back and the silver chains on his neck glistening under the light. he’d deviously smirk, “ah, it’s hot.” unbuttoning the first button of his dress shirt that was neatly tucked in to leather jeans. due to his perspiring body, the flimsy shirt would stick to his back, accentuating the muscles. oh shit he looked pretty damn nice. and that harness he wore??? oof. “so, I was summoned, ladies?” Those hoes would sTUTTER!!! y’all hoseok’s aura would be so powerful they’d literally be weak to the knees in a snap. talking? articulating words? we don’t know her. similar to jimin but not, he’d give a private show. literally. simply grinding and humping on the pole, smoothly showing those fluidly moves of his. he’s got them, he’s got them good. they were probably holding back the urge to just suck him off and take turns doing it. or have a big orgy or something. they’re just horny. and by the looks of that prominent bulge on his jeans, he was too. sadly, just not for them. and he looked so big tho, how sad. he’d step up to them too; leaning in so fucking close to one of them she’s fucking s h o o k. “baby?” you’d suddenly appear by the door, “jimin let me up, he said I’d find u here.” hoseok would chuckle. that motherfucker hoseok. his work was complete. he left those girls THIRSTING FOR REAL. dry as a desert. and u were here now to finalize the memo of ‘fuck off, I’m taken’. “ah, ladies. I present to u my love,” now he would definitely show off like jimin but more up close, pulling u close by the waist and giving u the fattest smooch ever. “you’re d-dating?” the girls are super pissy abt it tho lmao, “ah no no no, married, doll. meet mrs. jung.” rjjejejsk even though it a was joke it left them shook and they’re definitely leaving him alone next time. “married? hoseok, really?” “what? u don’t wanna be future mrs. Jung?” “I do but I feel sorta bad for those girls. they really are persistent, huh?” “yes but, ur the only girl that’ll ever get a piece of all this, hm?”

[xo-dailypier-blog]

Hey People!

     It’s been such a long time since I’ve posted anything. But can you guys blame me? It’s been such a snore fest in Santa Monica, I almost just left you guys to you own devices to let you find out all the dirt by yourselves. But we couldn’t have that, can we?

     Anyways, while I don’t have a complete recap of the things going on (not that theirs anything interesting), you guys have sent me your BURNING CHLAMYDIA-LIKE questions that have piqued by interests. 

I would say things in this town are getting set in motion, but only time will tell…

But before we get into the questions, two things: 

1.) Everyone take a moment to say Happy Mother’s Day to QUEEN Phobe! Hopefully she’s been picking up her child from daycare. Am I right, guys? 

Hopefully you guys said HMD to your Mo -- Oh, Yikes ... um Moving on...

2.) Congratulations are in order! You guys voted and our Hottie of the Moment has been chosen…

     It’s none other than: Jason “Daddy” Sorrentino! With his ripped bod, and killer smile, Daddy Sorrentino has captured the hearts of Santa Monica one day at a time. I didn’t vote for him (I was torn between him and Daddy Lancaster, so I sat this one out), but it’s really no surprise. I mean, have you seen him? Ugh, soy hott. 

When asked about his Award Winning Hotness, Daddy had this to say:

“Everyone wanted to know what I’d do if I didn’t win, guess we’ll never know” (Jason Sorrentino, 2019).

... We love original quotes ..... Anyways! Let’s A some Q’s, yeah?

Q: singordie94 asked...

What is the Lipton on Myles Bennett and Julian Stark? The people are talking about seeing them at a bar eye fucking each other? What’s going on, DP? 

A: Hey singordie94,

     Sighhh, Shark Boy and Lava Top. Ok, so as we know, Myles gets pegged. Very progressive, love that for him. Now, the RUMOR (keyword) is that he ditched the strap and tried out the real thing with one Julian Stark. This, allegedly, happened a few months back according to sources close to the subject(s). Sadly, I honestly don’t believe this, this just sounds like fan fiction. Myles has a loving girl friend back home in Texas. It is PREPOSTEROUS to think our little sea critter would be a LIAR. I mean, could you guys really imagine OUR Myles letting Julian go snorkeling in HIS (chocolate) sea? HANG TEN in his boygina? Go KOWABUNGA in that ass??? (Let’s be honest, if this actually happened, there is no way anyone would actually believe that Myles was on top, we’ve seen him in his sea-diving-catsuit-thing, and … momma’s thicc with it). Anyways, I guess I’ll keep an eye on them just in case. But Myles just isn’t the type to cheat/leave his southern belle crying into the butter she has to churn for supper in the middle of her Amish village. (I’m assuming everyone in Texas is Amish. Look, I don’t know what the fuck goes on there, and honestly? I don’t care). Bottom line (tehehehe) is that Myles has his true love, the deep blue sea, and CHRIST as his main priorities, nothing more. Thanks for the question, singordie94, I’ll keep an eye out for ZESTY activity, but don’t hold your breath (like Myles did when he deep throated Julian, ALLEGEDLY).

Q: AshersBabyMomma asked...

Can we get an Aldridge update?

A: Well, AshersBabyMomma (cute name btw),

Keeping up with the Aldridge’s has been pretty dull this season.

Alex is, naturally, chasing after Award Winning Hottie, Jason. Their tumultuous relationship is one I’ll have to keep an eye on. You would think they were together by the way they interact, one minute their woohoo-ing in the back of an Uber and the next they need space? Maybe they should just call it quits? And apparently Alex was seen getting cozy with Logan Lancaster. I’m told that there was some serious flirting going on???? I heard that Jason totally came up in conversation too, and Logan called him like, a pussy, or something? (Fighting Words!!!) Whatever he said the two laughed about it, as they continued vibing. And to be honest? I kind of ship it. I mean I am obviously the president of the SorrentinHOEs, but ya girl Alex needs some stability. And hello??? Logan is as stable as they come! Daddy Sorrentino might be perfect at everything else, but maybe he should sit on the bench when it comes to Alex, Logan is scoring too high for him to keep up. #LoLex

Crackhead Asher is one that keeps getting written in about, though. A little bird told me, well, several little birds have told me that they’ve seen a guy (with a striking resemblance to our fav) out with several different guys since he’s been here in Santa Monica. I feel like Asher is a little fruity but is this something he would keep from his family? His twin? I feel like they would care less about this and more about his trips to San Diego to buy METH. The Quality Kind. Hmm, I suppose I’ll have to set up cameras inside his house, too, just to see if this story checks out. I’ll keep you posted.

The only Aldridge that matters is the MATRIARCH herself, Alegenda Aldridge. When she PUMPED IT into Santa Monica in kitten heels (because only SLUTS wear stilettos) I knew that she would be the saving grace of this DEMONIC town. We Stan Alegenda in this household, which is why If you use code SharkTop with your next purchase at Blush Boutique — The Anti-Fashionova, you’ll get 10% off, courtesy of The Daily Pier. Go on and immerse yourselves in the most sanctified of garmets, those floor length khaki skirts aren’t gonna wear themselves! Let’s hope that Alegenda does not fall into the EVIL clutches that have her siblings, and let’s hope that she can, instead, EXERCISE the DEMONS on her siblings KNEECAPS.

But honestly, who am I kidding. I enjoy her efforts, but in this town? She’ll probably be smoking the same crack rock as Asher by the end of the month. Tragic. I’ll keep you posted, AshersBabyMomma.

Q: dddonewiththebullshit asked...

I KNOW THAT JAMIE FUCKING CARTER READS THIS FUCKING BLOG AND I JUST WANT HIM TO FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVE HAD IT UP TO MOTHER FUCKING HERE WITH HIS GOD DAMNED NOISE. HE IS THE MOST INCONSIDERATE NEIGHBOR EVER!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM CONSTANTLY WAKING UP MY PUPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE HES CONSTANTLY BRINGING THE ENTIRETY OF SANTA MONICA BACK TO HIS PLACE TO BANG THE FUCK OUT OF THEM LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE ENITRE BLOCK TO HEAR, AND NOW I HAVE TO HEAR HIM FIGHTING WITH SOME TWINK!!!!!!!!!! ABOUT SOME FUCKING!!!!! PAINT!!!!!!! BRUSHES!!!!!!! HE DOESNT DESERVE RIGHTS, AND I WANT HIM DEAD. #ELECTRICCHAIR

A: I…. Hello?

     This is the only negative thing I’ve gotten about Jamie since I’ve started following him. If hoards of you thirst buckets aren’t writing in about want to “operate his ride” then you’re saying how he looks like a math teacher and you’d like to show him an acute angle (with your legs). Wait, is that last part just me? Yikes, this is awkward. Anyways, it’s true. Jamie and Mackenzie Westwood (the twink in question) dated for like 5 months, and when Mac ended things (because Jamie couldn’t commit) he packed his things and left. Apparently he forgot his paint brushes after his departure so he tried to BREAK INTO Jamie’s house and take them. And I guess they got into a fight. Based on the voice memos I got, it got pretty intense. Some people wrote in asking if Jamie got shot.

     Yeah he got shot … with love. The repressed feeling jumped out! This whole fight was laced with PASSION and I was waiting for them to rip each other’s clothes off and wake up your puppy (again). They TOTES still love each other. I mean hello??? Amazon Prime is right there and you choose to commit grand theft PAINTBRUSH on a random night, Mackenzie???? Give me a BREAK!

     I just hope that this doesn’t interfere with his work, and like, distract him while he’s operating a ride. Wouldn’t want him to ALSO cause a major accident which could kill people. #shade

I guess the final question I got a lot is what couple(s) I ship. And off the top of my head, my top 5 are ... Hmmm, I’ll have to say:

Well obvs, #LoLex

June Armstrong and an Exterminator. The Doll has roaches, and it’s fucking GROSS!!! Someone said she’s become acquainted with them and knows them by name. What a CREEP. Get an exterminator girl, know him by name. And while we’re on the topic of June, The Doll. I see right through her “innocent act”, I heard she hid a razor blade in her mouth in High School, and when she got into a fight one time, she SLICED her opponent. People who went to school with June contact me, and give me the scoop on this.

OLIVA AND DIANA ARE THE LESBIAN POWER COUPLE WE NEED!! I DONT NEED TO ELABORATE ON THIS, MAKE IT HAPPEN LADIES.

(and 5, I guess) And I am torn between Wes/Diana and Wes/Iris. You see, Diana and Wes have history and just thinking about them and all that they’ve been through, the fact that they can find solace through each other’s arms just …. sorry I need a moment. 

But Wes and Iris, it’s just … ugh … the flavors. Both of their pasts have been pretty hard, and I would love to see Iris in a happy relationship. Especially after that Sebastian guy (don’t ask).

So these are MY to watch list, lets hope something becomes of it! 

And with that, that concludes my comeback post, I guess. Hope you didn’t fall asleep reading this. And if you managed to to not be mentioned in this post, don’t you worry, this is only just the beginning. 

xo, DP

[queenofthearchitect]

Liquid courage.

A/n: this was an idea where the reader and Seth like each other but neither one of them will admit it cause their pride, so the readers friends decide to get them together one way or another.

The artist that helped me write this was Bishop Briggs.

Warnings: smut, cussing.

This is my first OC and I’m excited.

A little about the character. Names Arielle, she had rose pink and pastel pink hair, her eyes are green, she’s 5’4, she’s a girly girl but not all the time. She’s also cocky asf. This reader will wear this to the party. Just with pumps

Please enjoy 🧚🏼‍♀️

I just got done in my match against Nia Jax and lord did she throw me around like a rag doll, I picked up the victory with a ddt and I locked in the figure 4 and she instantly tapped, I walked through the gorilla and walked to catering “you did great out there Arielle.” I turned and smiled at Seth. “thanks Rollins I know.” I turned around and kept walking I couldn’t help the stupid smiled that krept on my face, god Seth giving me a compliment gave me butterflies and I couldn’t stand it. I got a Text from Sasha and I opened it see you Wednesday I text back quickly see you Wednesday.

Wednesday rolled around faster than I was hoping, I looked at the dresses I had ladies out and I decided to wear a black lace jumpsuit that was a little reveling but oh well I threw my black pumps on and curled my hair. I threw on some make up and a red lip and walked out my door, a few people started at me but I couldn’t care I knew I looked good. I didn’t plan on getting with anyone I wanted to look good for myself. My mom always told me confidence is the key so I always had confidence in myself and I couldn’t care if others liked it. I got in my car and drove to Sasha’s I stopped by the liquor store and got some whiskey and vodka and a bottle of wine for those who couldn’t hang with the big dogs.

I paid and I was on my way to the party when I pulled on her road there were cars in her drive way and in the street so I just parked behinds some ones car and walked up to her front door, I knocked she opened and took my outfit in “Damn girl you care out to break hearts didn’t you.” I smiled at her “you know me the heartbreaker, I brought gifts.” I held up the bottles and Sasha smiled “that’s my girl.” She opened the door and let me in and a few peoole looked at me, the guys definitely took in my outfit, I went to the kitchen and there were Seth, Dean and Roman, I put the alcohol down and poured me a glass of wine.

Roman walked up to me “damn Arielle you look hot.” I smiled “I know, I guess I wanted to show you guys what an actual woman looked like.” He chuckled and walked back to his brothers I knew they were talking about me cause they would look at me every now and again, I decided to go into the living room and dance, ayy ladies by Travis porter came on and I couldn’t help myself I started dancing I guess that’s why I took pole dancing classes and yoga so I could be flexible and strong but still dance, I felt a few eyes on me while my girls were chanting “go Arielle fuck it up.” Let me tell you I proudly did I fucked that living room floor up.

I had a few more glasses of wine and I can’t remember when I switched to vodka but it happened at some point and I was feeling the affect of the alcohol I consumed. Baron Corbin walked up to me and smirked “I’ve never see anyone dance like that before.” I couldn’t help but laugh “thats cause I don’t dance in front of people I guess I had liquid courage.” I shrugged him off and took another drink “you know maybe we should go out some time.” I looked at Corbin and smiled “thanks for the offer but I don’t think so.” He frowned “why not?” I poured myself another drink and looked at him “no offense but I don’t date boys, I’ve seen how you’ve treat girls before and I’m not going to be another one of your hits or anyone else’s in that fact.” He looked at me and I could tell my words upset him “you would be lucky to date some one like me Arielle with out me you will continue to be a nobody.” I took another sip of my drink and I laughed at him “actually baron I think it would be me who would make you a somebody, cause last time i checked I’m booked and in that ring every night, and I know for a fact you can’t say the same.”

He went to say something else but Seth interrupted him “Corbin go away it’s obvious she doesn’t want you so you can leave now.” I turned to look at seth and he looked pretty pissed “stay out of this Rollins.” Seth quickly shot back “no I’m not going to stay out of it Corbin especially when it comes to my girl.” I was shocked to hear Seth say that and I didn’t Shoot him down like I would have done anyone else if they would have called me their girl. Baron walked away and I looked at Seth “thanks for that.” He smiled at took a drink of his drink “no need to thank me he’s a creep.” I smiled and sighed, it was just a few people left at the party. everyone else I guess left earlier “I guess tonight over.” I looked at Seth and I don’t know if it was the fact i liked him or if it was the alcohol and I couldn’t stop my mouth. “It doesn’t have to end.”

He looked at me like he didn’t understand me and I looked at him “are you drunk?” He shook his head “no I only had a drink or two why?” I smiled “drive me home please.” He nodded his head “sure thing roman take the rental back to the hotel.” He nodded at Seth and I grabbed my vodka and walked out the door and unlocked my car, I threw my keys at Seth and got in the passenger side Seth quickly followed my steps and while we were driving I started rubbing his thigh and occasionally I would rub where is dick was in his pants, he shifted in the seat and adjusted his self “Arielle I need you to stop.” I looked at him and hummed “why’s that.” He looked over at me and put my hand back in my lap “because I won’t be able to wait and I’ll pull over right here and just fuck you.” I smiled at him “well maybe I don’t want to wait.” He looked at me and I unbottoned his pants and pulled his hard dick out and I put in my mouth and he drove with one and and his other was on my head.

A car honked and he whipped in the lane he was suppose to be in I lifted my head and he looked at me “your in trouble.” We got to the hotel and he quickly fixed his jeans and I got out and walked into the hotel I finished the bottle of vodka off and I threw it in the trash, Seth hit the elevator button and we both got in once the doors closed he slammed me into the corned and started kissing me. He thrusted into me and his bulge hit me and I moaned the elevator stopped and he parted away from me and two couples got on and we both out of breath and they got on and the doors closed and you could feel the awkwardness in the elevator our floor dinged and we both got off and I started laughing, Seth smacked my ass, I was having a hard time getting into my room so he grabbed my key and got us in he slammed the door shut and pushed me up against the door.

His hand traveled to the back of my neck and he ripped my jumpsuit, I gasped and he looked at me “I’ll get you a new one but right now I need you.” He pulled down my panties and he took his shirt off and his pants and underwear I grabbed his dick and started pumping it in my hands and I felt him throb and I bit my lips, he quickly slid in me and we both groaned he snapped his his and I felt him throb in me “god you feel so good.” I kissed his lips and his beard and my hands flew to his back while I had my grip on him he decided to go faster, his hips smacking against mine the sound of skin and skin filled the room besides my moans, I clawed his back and he growled, “you teased me all night and I thought I was going to explod when you started dancing.” I bit my lip and he threw me on the bed and continued his assault with his dick, he pumped in and out of me the head board was hitting the wall making a lot of noise and I could feel my orgasm coming and quick.

“S-Seth I’m close.” he painted “me too baby girl I’m so close just keep doing what your doing.” He pulled out and I took that time to roll us over and I started riding him, he gripped my hips hard enough I knew there were going to be bruises by morning, I sank down on him and tightened around him “f-fuck Arielle p-please move.” I went up and down on him but apparently I wasn’t going fast Enough because he took the pace into his own hands he slammed me up and down on him and he trusted into him “I felt him hit my g-spot and I tightened around him and I came “f-fuck Seth.” His thrust grew sloppy and he pulled out and stuck his dick in my mouth and started thirsting I felt his cock twitch twice in my mouth and his hot cum soon filled my mouth. I swallowed with pride and smiled at him. “So I’ve had a thing for you.” I huffed in between breaths, He smiled and kissed my forehead “me too, since I know that now will you be my girlfriend?” He said in between paints and I smiled “I will most definitely be your girlfriend.” I snuggled up to him and he got up “how about round two in the shower?” I smiled “sure thing baby.” lets just say we had a memorable night together and it all started with liquid courage.

A/N: sorry this was long but I’m not complaining, I hoped yall liked it.

[master-sass-blast]

“Myshka.”

Oh. Would you look at that. It’s 10k words long.

*sighs* On one hand, I have mild regrets.

On the other hand... I REGRET NOTHING.

Welcome back to my hyperfixation with Piotr Rasputin. This installment shows some of the highlights of you, our lovely reader, becoming “myshka” (little mouse) to Colossus.

Side note: I definitely took inspiration from @colossus-and-cable ‘s https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176047533623/soft-skin and https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176314375850/dinner-date! Obviously, I didn’t copy either piece (I ain’t no plagiarizer) but if you’re in the mood for more Colossus x Reader fluff, go check out those two pieces (and colossus-and-cable’s blog in general. They’re amazing, their writing is amazing, and they are my main supplier for my thirst addiction).

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, strong language, and enough fluff to rot teeth.

Pairing: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

The first time it happens, as with all great love stories, you wipe out on your ass.

Hard.

For clarification: Colossus calling you “myshka” didn’t make you wipe out on your ass; rather, you wiped out particularly hard during a mission and he called you “myshka” after he’d found you post-wipe out.

Technically, not the same, but the former way of phrasing the situation sounds much funnier than the latter, in your opinion.

The scene is set: the X-Force team is in the midst of taking down a group of mutant traffickers so they can rescue the latest group of victims.

There’s gunfire. Bullets whizzing everywhere. Lots and lots of bullets.

And, over the din of it all, Wade is cackling like a madman.

There were times where you really questioned your decision to be friends with Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. This was one of them.

You grit your teeth as Wade runs headfirst into the gunfire and use your powers to knock a row of shooters off their feet with a hard blast of wind. You’re currently pinned behind a car by way of gunfire, waiting for the others --Colossus, Yukio, Domino, Cable, Russell, and Ellie--to catch up. “Wade!” you snap, knowing full well he and the others can hear you via the earpieces issued by the X-Men. “I swear to Cthulhu, if I die from your dumbass choices, I will personally come back just to kill you.”

“What’s going on?” Colossus’s voice floods the line, strained with effort and worry.

“The fuckstick decided to set off the shooters and charge them,” You growl as you watch Wade take down another trio of criminals. “It’s a mess over here.”

Colossus mutters something about proper language before starting to rant at Wade. “Deadpool, we talked about this. The plan was to wait for rest of team before--”

Wade cut him off with an undignified shriek. “Shit! Snipers! Fuck!”

You can hear the sound the bullets, both from where you’re sitting and through your earpiece. “Serves you right, dumbfuck. I hope they hit your ass.”

“Stop bitching at me and take those cock-gobblers out! Comprende?”

You mutter a list of death threats under your breath and rise up as much as you dare.

Wade’s dodging bullets as he darts around the abandoned parking lot in front of an equally abandoned three story warehouse. Most of the shots are coming from the third level.

You assess your odds. On one hand, Wade’s taken out all the active shooters in the parking lot. You don’t have to worry about any extra people firing extra bullets at you. Plus, snipers will make it much tougher to get into the warehouse --and to the trafficked mutants--before the shippers come in and whisk them away.

On the other hand, the team’s not that far out, you don’t relish the idea of running into direct gunfire, and --candidly--watching Wade get shot at is pretty entertaining. Ten out of ten, would watch again while eating popcorn.

Ultimately, you decide you can’t justify not doing what you can to save the trafficking victims. You grit your teeth and jog a few feet back. “I’m going to blast those dipshits.”

“Y/N, no.” Colossus’s voice. “Wait for us.”

“I can’t risk the traffickers taking away another group of mutants,” You say as you line up your shot.

There. The center window on the third level. Based on the schematics, it should line up with a long outer hall that you can use to blast the snipers out of.

“No, it is too dangerous.”

“I thought that was the point of these missions.” You steel yourself and focus in, taking a second to feel the air around you. “Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“You better hope I don’t die, dumb cunt.”

And, with that, you’re off. You use your powers to propel you halfway across the parking lot, then launch yourself off the ground and through the center window.

The brief looks that you catch on the sniper’s faces before you blast them out the opposite ends of the warehouse are priceless.

You look up, ready to land --and almost have a coronary.

A wall with a decorative window is speeding towards you, and you’re not slowing down the way you thought you would.

“Shit! I miscalculated!” You barely have enough time to make a wind shield before your plowing through the window, into something that makes a vague screaming noise, and onto the floor. You roll over broken glass and metal rebar before smacking into a wall, cracking the drywall.

Pain. Lots of it. In your back, your sides, your head, your legs. You groan and almost vomit, it’s so bad. “Fuck. I hurt myself.”

“Where are you?” Colossus asks, panic evident in his voice.

“On the third level. Follow the wake of destruction and the sounds of pissed off swearing. You won’t miss me.” You let out a gasp of pain as you try to pick a few gnarly shards of glass out of your side. “Shit, I rolled through glass. Oh, fuck, that hurts.”

“Can you move?” Cable’s voice this time, considerably calmer.

You shift yourself into a sitting position --which takes an amount of effort and stomach control you didn’t know you had--and almost lose your lunch at the sight of your leg. “Oh, definitely not. Shit, I fucked up my leg. I think my knee’s dislocated.”

“You shouldn’t have gone after snipers,” Colossus growls over the sound of men screaming.

“Would have, wouldn’t have,” You grumble back. “I cleared them out for you. You’re fucking welcome.” You take stock of your surroundings --glass, glass, more glass, crushed beer cans, glass--and gasp. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Colossus again, fretting as a mother hen must.

“Is that...” You peer closer at the dark, soft looking lump and gag. “Oh shit. That’s a body. I think I decapitated a guy when I went through the window.”

“Impressive,” Wade says. “I don’t think even I’ve managed that one.”

“You had to be clocking in pretty fast to pull that off,” Cable growls over the sound of his gun firing. “How quick were you moving?”

“I don’t know, dad, let me check my speedometer,” You grumble back. You lean back against the wall and try to breath for a minute.

It’s something no one ever thinks to tell you --being in pain is exhausting. On a good day, one might need to sleep off a particularly nasty headache. Now, however, when you’ve been running around and crashing through walls? You feel like a de-boned rag doll, like a pile of slowly melting Jello, like an over-wrung wash rag.

You let your head rest against the wall --despite the fact that you’ll probably get drywall in your hair--and slowly let your eyes close. You’re so... tired...

“Hey, kid, are you still with us?”

You force yourself to stir, fighting through the layers of pain. “Yeah. I’m here. ‘m jus’ tired.”

“Uh-huh. Why are you slurring your words? Did you hit your head?” Cable asks.

“I hit everything,” You grumble. “I thought that was clear from all my cursing.”

“Y/N, you need to stay awake,” Colossus orders over the earpiece. “Falling asleep now would be dangerous.”

“I’ve got something that’ll keep her awake. There’s a group of guys on their way up to you. They’re in the stairwell, T minus two minutes,” Cable says.

That does wake you up. Adrenaline courses through your system, pushing the pain down and forcing you into alertness. You take in shallow, gasp-y breaths as you try to put together a plan. “How much time?”

“Less than two minutes.”

You scan the room, searching for something to defend yourself with or a place to hide. Your eyes lock on to the decapitated dude’s gun and an idea starts forming in your head. “How many of them are there?”

“Five. Minute and twenty seconds.”

You lurch for the gun, barely biting back a scream of pain as your force your body to move. You yank a clip off the guy’s belt and shove it into the gun, then pull yourself under a table next to the door that --somehow--survived your impromptu trip through the wall.

You almost black out from pain as you get yourself into position, gun aimed down the hall. “How much longer?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

You count down and try to breath.

Right on cue, the door to the stairwell smacks open. Five burly men dressed in black, all carrying rifles, pour into the hallway.

You clench your teeth together and open fire.

Within seconds, they’re on the ground, as dead as the guy you decapitated.

“Y/N?”

You let out a ragged breath, wipe some blood away from your eyes --you must’ve cut yourself on your way through the window--and answer Colossus’s worried call. “Got ‘em. Stupid chickenshits. How’re we doing down there?”

“Only a few fuckers left!” Wade shouts cheerfully. “Then it’s down to finding the victims and releasing them!”

You let your forehead drop against the floor. “I’m gonna need someone to come get me. I doubt I could even fly myself out of here.”

“Stay where you are,” Colossus orders. “We will have someone up to get you in few minutes. In meantime, stay awake.”

Wade helps your effort to stay conscious by quizzing you on all manner of movie and music trivia. Most of his questions are inane at best, but it does the trick. You manage to keep your eyes open until you register a series of hurried, heavy thuds on the floor, and then--

The table you’re hiding under is tossed across the room like it was a piece of paper, and Colossus kneels next to you. “Bozhe moi. What did you do to yourself?”

“Nothing any self-respecting mutant with poor math skills and even worse impulse control wouldn’t do,” You mutter back. You roll onto your back with a yelp of pain and try to grin up at him --though you suspect it just comes out looking pained. “How do I look?”

“Like shit,” Cable answers, coming into view above you. He lets out a hiss through his teeth as his eyes scan you. “The fuck did you do to your leg?”

“Dislocated it, I think,” You manage. “I would try to set it, but I don’t know if my body’ll let me bend like that. It’s pretty pissed at me, all things considered.”

“Do you want me to try to pop it back in?” Cable asks.

“No, I don’t think that is good idea--” Colossus tries.

“Do it,” You interrupt. “I’d rather that happen than have it dangling around while I’m carried around.”

“Y/N--”

“Do it,” You snap at Cable, ignoring Colossus’s pleas for you to wait to let the medics do it. “Just give me something to bite on.”

Cable pulls a bandanna out of his fanny pack and hands it to you. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You stuff the fabric into your mouth, bite down, and take a breath.

A second breath.

A third.

You close your eyes and nod. You let out a scream as Cable snaps your knee back into place --purely efficient and unhesitating--then rip the bandanna out of your mouth, roll up onto your side, and promptly vomit.

It hurts. Everything hurts. Your body feels like its on fire.

The pain is so intense that your arms give out and you nearly drop face first into your own puke.

Colossus’s massive hands shoot out and he catches you, pulling you up and into his arms.

The sheer amount of movement makes you scream again as pain ricochets around your body.

“I’m so sorry,” Colossus murmurs as he adjust his grip on you.

“It’s okay,” You assure him, even as your body demands sacrifice and as tears stream down your face. You can’t bear the idea of this gentle giant tearing himself up over hurting you. “It’s okay, big guy, it was going to hurt anyway. It’s okay.”

He starts carrying you down the hall, moving with extra care so as not to jostle you unnecessarily. “That’s my tough myshka,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you groan as he starts carrying you down the stairs. “Diving headfirst into trouble and hurting herself in the process.” Your head lolls against his shoulder, the toll of enduring the pain catching up to you fast.

You can vaguely hear Cable talking to someone --Ellie, you think, because he’s not nearly pissed enough for it to be Wade--and confirming they’ve found you and are on their way. You can hear the metallic clang of Colossus’s footsteps, but everything sounds like your head’s underwater --distorted, distant.

You can feel yourself fall asleep with every step that your favorite gentle giant takes. Your eyes slowly start to close--

Colossus’s voice brings you back to the surface. “Stay awake, myshka. You need to stay with us.”

You blink and stare at the way the thick muscles in his neck and shoulders work as he moves. “Myshka.” The word feels awkward and unfamiliar in your mouth, but you like it all the same. “What does that mean? Does it mean idiot? ‘cause I feel like that’s a fair accusation for you to make right now.”

He chuckles --a really pleasant sound that you hadn’t noticed how pleasant it was until this exact moment--and holds you a little closer so he can maneuver you through a doorway. “Not quite.”

You hum in response and watch the metal that comprises him ripple. “I like it. It sounds pretty.” You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, relishing the way the cool metal there soothes the ache in your head. “Colossus?”

“Da, myshka?”

“I think I hurt my everything.”

He chuckles again --a little more strained this time--and carries you to the jet. “Hang in there. We will get you fixed up soon.”

The second time it happens --not the exact second utterance of the word, but the second situation the word is uttered in--you’re hanging halfway off the couch in pursuit of one particularly evasive remote.

It’s not too long after the fuck forsaken mission where you’d tossed yourself through a window, and you’ve been confined to the couch on orders of both Hank and Colossus.

All in all, it isn’t too bad. The X-Force takes turns helping you get around and playing nurse --having Neena wash your hair for you had been a borderline orgasmic experience--and everyone’s pretty willing to keep you company --especially Wade, who’ll take any excuse he can get to introduce you to trash TV.

Right now, though, you’re on your own, and you’re trying to lift the remote off the ground via an air current and fling it to where you’re sitting.

It isn’t working. Not in the slightest.

You growl as the remote flops further away from you and you glare daggers at the traitorous device. “Stupid piece of shit.”

“Myshka.”

You look up and grin at Colossus. “Hey, big guy. ‘Sup?”

He raises an eyebrow at your precarious position, half-on, half-off the couch. “I do not think you should be laying like that. Is bad for your back, to say nothing of your knee.”

“Well, I didn’t start like this. I was trying to get the remote, but Wade left it all the way over there when he switched channels.” You grimace at the dramatics on the TV screen. “Is this really considered the pinnacle of modern entertainment?”

“For Wade, yes.” He scans the card outlining your prescription times --you’d gotten the good painkillers, plus some antibiotics after your little escapade at the warehouse. “Your next dose is due. You need to eat something.”

“Would that I could, but --alas--I am confined to this couch for the time being.”

He chuckles. “I can make you something, myshka. You only need ask.”

You smile softly at him --how could you not, when he’s being so considerate and sweet. “Thanks. I’m up for pretty much anything.”

He nods and walks to the kitchen --but not before he retrieves the remote and hands it to you.

You start flipping through the channels, trying to find something decent to watch, but realize that you don’t even know what to look for. A lifetime without TV has left you with absolutely no idea of what even qualifies as good.

“You know, you might find something easier if you watch more than five seconds at a time.”

You look up in time to see his gentle, teasing smile, and stick out your tongue in response as he sets two plates on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Very funny, big guy.”

He opens his mouth to respond, the pauses to frown --specifically at your injured leg. “I thought you were supposed to have your leg elevated.”

“I tried. I can’t get it high enough without the pillows toppling over.”

He stares down at you for a moment, frowning contemplatively, before heading back to the kitchen. “Wait there. I have idea.”

“I don’t know,” You call after him. “I was contemplating a breezy flight to Las Vegas. Play the slots, cheat at the Poker tables, try to win big.”

He chuckles --a warm, deep sound that you absolutely love--and reappears with a fresh ice pack in hand. “Cheating is against the rules, myshka.”

“Well, duh. How else am I going to win? I’m not that good at Poker.” You wriggle up on the couch so you can see him better. “So, what’s this idea of yours?”

He ducks his head, looking flustered. “Well, I need to eat as well. I thought I could sit with you, help keep pillows in place, that sort of thing. Would that be alright?”

You grin up at him. “Sounds perfect.” You wriggle up the couch a little more, making space for him, and pat the now open spot. “Come join me, big guy.”

He sits --the couch groans in protest as he settles himself on the cushions--and grimaces when he sees that the TV has defaulted back to Wade’s pick of Toddlers and Tiaras. “Is... is this what you want to watch?”

You grimace with him. “No. I just... I wasn’t allowed to watch TV growing up. I have no idea what to look for, much less what I might like.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then holds out his hand. “May I? I think I might be able to find something you will enjoy.”

You hand him the remote and start in on your plate, quickly taking your pain pills before you forget to.

He’s fixed you a sandwich --delicious, you’re sure, Colossus is a surprisingly good cook--paired with some grapes, carrots, and...

You grin as you pop a unnaturally bright, not remotely flavored like any cheese you’ve ever tasted Cheeto into your mouth. “You remembered my crunching addiction!”

He nods, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Why you and Wade like those, I will never understand.”

“Hey, don’t knock ‘em until you’ve tried ‘em.” You stare up at the screen, frowning as an intro for some sort of science-y show plays. “What’s this?”

“American show called Mythbusters. I discovered it when I first came here. This is rerun from one of the earlier seasons.”

You settle into the couch with a shrug and start into your lunch. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the shit that Wade picked.

As it turns out, he’s absolutely right. The show is amazing, and you’re genuinely entertained by watching the two hosts blow up, break, and generally destroy anything and everything that they get their hands on

And, admittedly, you can see where he was pulled into the show as well. It’s surprisingly intellectual, and does an amazing job of making the math and science going into the tests and myths accessible to the average viewer.

About halfway through the episode you’ve finished your plate and the pain meds have kicked in nicely. You giggle from the high of the medication and roll back onto the couch.

Colossus’s hand settles gently on your uninjured leg. “Easy, myshka. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself!” You declare as you flop around. Your hand smacks into the coffee table. You wince and cradle the stinging appendage against your chest. “Ow.”

Colossus helps settle you back onto the couch in a less haphazard position. “You were saying?”

“Okay, fine. I hurt myself. Happy now?”

“I will be happier when you settle enough to stop hurting yourself, myshka.”

“Myshka.” You giggle and repeat the word a few times before the buzz of the drugs makes you dissolve into laughter. “Why do you call me that? Not that I’m complaining --it sounds pretty cute.”

“Is a nickname in Russian.”

“Well, I gathered that much.” You grin up at him. “Don’t tell me what it means; I want to guess!”

“Very well.”

You peer up at him, doing your best to sift through the fog the painkillers have put you in as you try to puzzle out what he could be calling you. “It means ‘idiot,’ doesn’t it?”

He seems alarmed. “Why would I call you that?”

“I mean, I did toss myself through a wall and dislocate my leg in the process. I think it’s kind of warranted.”

Colossus shakes his head. “I would never. That would be unkind --and unwarranted.”

“Okay.” You eye him for another minute, then try again. “Fool?”

“No.”

“Lovable fool?”

“Also no.”

“Klutz?”

“It is not an insult,” he says, both amused and exasperated.

“Ah.” You grin at him. “Well, that’s nice --but I’ll have to completely rethink my strategy now. This might take longer than I thought.”

“I could just tell you.”

“No! No spoiling my fun!”

He shakes his head, smiling, and resumes watching the show.

On impulse --one which you will later admit was prompted by your growing feelings for him, not by the pain meds--you plop the pillow propping up your knee on his lap and swing your legs up so they’re draped over his legs. You flash him your nicest, sweetest smile when he looks at you, startled. “This okay, big guy?”

He nods, somewhat flustered. “Da, myshka. This is fine.”

You settle back in and finish out the episode with him, more content than you’ve been in a long time.

The third time it happens, you’ve admitted to yourself --and Wade, after some obnoxious prodding on the merc’s part--that you’ve got a crush on the metal man himself.

Which is why you’ve been careful to ensure that you’ve got a prime spot next to Colossus when you all head out to watch the mansion’s New Year’s firework display.

He has a fire extinguisher on hand, a sight that makes you laugh. “Ready for anything, eh?”

He grimaces. “Wade set up the display this year.”

You blanch. “Oh, god, is the house even going to survive?”

“Hey, have a little faith in me,” Wade whines as he skips past you to finish the final touches on the display. “I can have self control. When I want to.”

“Yeah, the question is does he ever want to?” You mutter as you watch Wade and Russell arrange the first row of fireworks.

“Speaking from experience, no,” Colossus mutters back.

“Ladies, gentlemen, noble gentry of non-conforming gender identity, and Yukio!” Wade crows from his position several yards down the drive. “Tonight is a date that technically doesn’t matter since time is a social construct, but we’re going to use it to celebrate surviving another year! That’s right, tell Death to go fu--”

“Language, Wade,” Colossus interjects over Wade’s tirade and the giggles of the younger mutants.

“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Long John Silver. Anyway, since the resident party poopers here at Casa de la Mutant have kiboshed getting drunk off our ass--”

“Wade.”

“Okay! Fine! Long story made short: fireworks! Lots of them! Cover your ears if you don’t want to wear hearing aids by the time you’re thirty!” He spins dramatically and pointed to Russell. “Russell! My man! Let it burn!”

Russell lights the fuse lines then books it to a safe distance with Wade.

You clap your hands over your ears just as the first set shoot off into the sky.

Multiple bursts light up the sky in what is a colorful, exciting, and surprisingly tasteful display, given that Wade and Russell were the ones that set it up. It takes several minutes for the main set of fireworks to finish going off. Once they’re done, Wade and Russell scamper back in to set up the finale.

By this point, you’re shivering. The New England weather in the dead of winter is none too forgiving to those who dare to venture outside without the proper protective wear.

You were contemplating running up to your room and grabbing a sweatshirt when Colossus reaches out and gently clasps your shoulder. “Myshka? Are you alright?”

You flash him a tight, ‘I’m-dying-from-the-cold-but-don’t-want-to-let-on-because-I’m-stubborn’ grin. “Yupp. A-okay.”

He frowns. “You’re cold.”

“Are you kidding? In this weather?” You feign wiping sweat off your brow. “We’re in a heat wave right now, big guy. How could I be cold?”

He laughs, then unzips the jacket he’s wearing. “Here. Use my jacket. We can’t have you freezing.”

Before you can protest, he’s draping the massive jacket around your shoulders, and oh--

It’s warm. Super warm. Like a beach in the tropics on a perfect sunny day warm.

You nestle into the jacket, sticking your stiff, chilled arms down the sleeves. You let out a happy, soothed sigh and relax a little. “Thanks, Colossus.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but ends up being cut off by a crazed screech from Wade.

“Alright, muchachos! Let’s blow this pop stand!”

You stick your fingers in your ears and keep them there until the finale’s done.

Once the smoke clears, most of the crowd does as well. Wade and Russell run off towards the back of the house, while everyone else heads inside.

Well, almost everyone.

Colossus sighs, and --with a good-natured smile--walks down the drive to pick up the remains of Wade and Russell’s firework display.

You scamper after him, far more content to spend time with him --even if it means helping with chores--than to head inside with everyone else. “Honestly, that didn’t end as disastrously as I thought it would.”

“Da. Wade and Russell were surprisingly controlled,” he agrees between coughs from the smoke.

You stop for a minute and make an air current to carry away the smoke. “There. That’s better.”

“Thank you, myshka.”

You bend to help him, but have to stop every few seconds to retuck the sleeves of his jacket so that you can physically grab onto the destroyed firecrackers. After the fifth time they slither down your arms, you drop the partially destroyed canister you’re holding and start rolling them up your arms. “Stupid motherfucking traitorous--”

Colossus chuckles. “Here, myshka.” He hands you the bag he’s been using to contain the trash. “You hold this. I can finish the rest.”

“Why do you need a jacket anyway?” You ask as you hold out the bag for him. “Aren’t you protected from the cold?”

“I am. The jacket is not so much for my benefit as it is for others. I may not suffer from the cold, but I still get cold. Complaints arise, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

You smirk. “That, and Wade won’t try to lick your arm to see if he’ll stick if you wear the jacket.”

Colossus groans. “Please, do not tell him about that. I would rather he didn’t try.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Secret’s safe with me, big guy.”

“Piotr.”

“Gesundheit.”

He laughs --actually laughs, full-bodied and joyous--and shakes his head. “My name. It’s Piotr. I thought you should know.”

You grin --it’s a surprisingly attractive name, which you suppose is fitting--and extend your hand. “Nice to meet ya, Piotr. I’m Y/N.”

He laughs again and shakes your hand with the utmost gentleness. “Very funny, myshka.”

You’re about to suggest that the two of you head inside when a loud explosion, a towering fireball, and a scream that sounds suspiciously like Wade emanates from behind the mansion.

Colossus --Piotr--mumbles something under his breath that sounds like a curse. “We should go check on that.”

You grimace and nod. “Come on. Let’s go see what Wade’s done to himself now.”

The fourth time it happens, two things are different.

One, you’re undoubtedly head over heels for Piotr. He’s sweet, kind, an unbelievably good looking, steel and all.

Two, you almost murder someone.

To be fair, that someone was Scott and he absolutely had it coming.

Let’s set the scene again: You had pissed Scott off.

No surprise there. You’re unbelievably good at it. You’re so adept that you could list it as a skill on your resume.

This time around, it’s because you and Wade had utterly booby-trapped his room for April Fool’s day.

In fairness to you and your best friend, you hadn’t done anything lethal or extensively damaging to his property. Just a bunch of toilet paper, some dyes in his shampoo, conditioner, and shower head, and Wade had swapped all his underwear with cheap lace thongs.

For the record: Scott Summers wears tighty-whities, and that’s a fact you wish you didn’t know.

Scott smacks his hands on the kitchen table. “This is an unfair violation of my personal space!”

You roll your eyes. “It was April Fool’s Day, Scott. Also known as ‘everyone’s free game.’ I mean, come on, Wade and I didn’t even do anything that serious! No blood, no bombs, no breaking anything.”

“You switched out all my underwear with lace thongs!”

“That was Wade. If you want a refund, you can talk to him or the returns person at the nearest Walmart.”

Scott scowls. “Admit it! You’ve been out to get me since the day you got here!”

“You’ve been a pain in the ass since the day I got here. What do you expect me to do?”

“That’s your excuse? That’s your excuse!” He lets out a pissed off laugh and shakes his head. “You’re such a piece of fucking work. No wonder your parents kept you locked in your room. I bet you were a nightmare to deal with.”

You can feel your blood run cold as a dangerous calm sweeps over you. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“Scott,” Jean says, stiffening in her seat. “Run.”

Scott doesn’t hesitate or offer an apology. He bolts for the back door.

You sprint after him, hot on his heels. You’ve killed before, and you’ve never been so tempted to do it again until this precise moment. “I’m gonna fucking murder you, Summers! You cowardly piece of shit!”

“I didn’t mean it! I misspoke!”

“Like ass you did!” You chase him around the back lawn, managing to scoop up a baseball bat left out by the kids as you do. You use your abilities to summon a burst of wind and push you forward. You close in and move to swing the bat--

It catches on something metal, resulting in a loud clang.

You almost fall off your feet when you can’t jerk your bat away from whatever it’s smacked into and look up.

Piotr frowns down at you, hand wrapped around the barrel of the bat. “No, myshka. This is not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate? On the contrary! This is completely fucking appropriate!” You yank and wrench at the bat. “Give me my bat! I’m going to beat his head in!”

“Uh, no!” Wade interjects. “No erasing Cable from the timeline!”

“Fine! I’ll maim Scott instead!” You brace your foot against Piotr’s legs and try to tug the bat out of his grip --not that it works, but you’re mad beyond reasoning. “Give me the bat!”

“No, myshka. Whatever he said, there is better way to handle this.”

“Oh, but there isn’t!”

“Myshka--”

“Do you know what he said to me?” Your eyes are stinging now, and your shoulders are starting to shake as you try to hold back angry sobs. “He called me a ‘fucking piece of work’ and said that it was no wonder my parents kept me locked in my room because I’m a nightmare!”

That gets a scowl out of him, and he turns to unleash it, full force, at Scott. “Is this true?”

Scott has the decency to look sheepish. “I misspoke.”

“No, misspeaking is calling someone an asshole, or a cunt, or a dipshit!” You snap. “It’s not saying their parents were right for abusing them!”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Professor Xavier emerges from the crowd of watchers, calm as ever. “Mr. Summers, if I could speak to you for a moment. Mr. Rasputin, I trust you can help Ms. Y/L/N calm down.”

Piotr puts a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place --not technically, he’d let you walk away if you wanted to--until the back door closes, leaving the two of you with some privacy.

You scrub at your cheeks with your sleeve, pissed off and embarrassed. “Well. That was a train wreck.”

“It did not go well,” he agrees. “You need to try to react better, myshka. Don’t let him get under your skin as bad.”

“Don’t let him bug me?” You paraphrase with a withering glare. “He said my parents were right for locking me in my room! How am I supposed to not let that piss me off?”

“Myshka, please, try to calm down. Let me try to get the words right,” he says, holding his hands up in a calming gesture.

You make in effort. It’s for him, after all.

“I am not saying Scott was right. He was very wrong, and he should’ve never said any of those things. I am just trying to say that beating him up all the time is not right response. You could get hurt, or someone else could get hurt in process. I think it would be better for you to get someone --the Professor or myself, maybe--when these things happen so you and Scott can work out your differences instead of fighting all the time.”

He’s right, you know he’s right, but outright admitting defeat right now is too great a task. Instead, you contort your face into a comical pout and whine up at him, “Aw, but my way is more fun!”

He smiles softly, a clear indicator that he knows that you know he’s right. “Perhaps, but more dangerous too.”

“Well, yeah, that’s why it’s fun.” The silence that follows lets the pain you’d been holding back rush to the surface. You grit your teeth together as tears sting your eyes. “Fucking asshole. Where the fuck does he get off?”

“People say unkind, unwise things when angry. Scott is one of those people, unfortunately.”

Your lower lip trembles, and you duck your head to hide the fact that you’re starting to cry. “I just... the fuck did I do to deserve that? What did I do as a kid that warranted locking me away?”

There’s a soft grunt as he kneels, and then Piotr’s hands come up to hold your shoulders. “Myshka, look at me. Please.”

You do. Because it’s him. You love him, and you know he’ll never make fun of you for crying.

“You could never do anything to deserve the way your parents treated you,” he says once you look at him. “You are wonderful, and smart, and kind; they were fools not to realize your worth.”

You smile, deeply touched by his unabashed praise of you. “Thanks, Pete. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

He gives you a bashful smile. “I would hope so. You are... you are my best friend, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

“You’re really special to me, too. I’d use the term ‘best friend,’ but I’m afraid Wade would hear, and he’d throw an absolute shit fit if he finds out he has competition for that category.”

Piotr laughs. “Say no more. I understand. Wade is Wade.”

“No kidding.” You hesitate, then ask, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but... can I have a hug? I’m feeling really shitty right now.”

“Of course, myshka. You don’t have to ask.”

You step forward into his arms, winding yours around his neck as you lay your head against his shoulder. You let out a soft sigh as his arms wrap around you, and you melt into the hug.

It’s soft --despite the fact that he’s literally made out of metal--and loving and exactly what you needed.

It’s a complicated, overwhelming moment due to the anger you’re feeling at Scott, the painful memories of your parents that are playing in your mind’s eye, and the utter joy thrumming through your body at being hugged by your crush.

You press against him and start to cry again, unable to really do anything else.

Colossus rubs his hand up and down your back, as gentle and careful as ever. “It’ll be okay, myshka. You’re going to be alright.”

And, despite how you’re feeling right now, you know he’s right. After a moment, you pull back with a sniff. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“No problem, myshka.”

You grin as he stands. “You use ‘myshka’ more than you use my real name. What’s up with that?”

“Sorry, I--”

You stop him before he can build up too much steam. “No, big guy, I like it. I was teasing you.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You are nothing but trouble.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked it.” He gets oddly flustered at that, so you move on to spare him any embarrassment of trying to respond. “I still haven’t figured out what it means though. I’m starting to think that you just made it up and are messing with me.”

“It is real word. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know that, Pete. I’m just yanking your chain.” You pat his arm as you cock your head to the side. “So, it’s supposed to be something nice. Is it ‘idiot’ in the sense that I call Wade an idiot? Like, in a loving sense?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nyet. I would not call you ‘idiot’ because it’s unkind. Besides, you are not idiot.”

“Okay, okay. Just thought I’d check.” You quirk your mouth to the side. “Is it a term for ‘friend?’”

“No.”

“Does it mean ‘genius?’”

He laughs. “No, but I would venture to say you are one.”

You grin. “Careful. I will absolutely use you as a reference when I apply for my official certification. What about... ‘super awesome badass?’”

Another laugh. “No.”

You wrack your brain for ideas, then waggle your eyebrows at him, unable to resist an opportunity to rib him a little. “Does it mean ‘sexy?’”

His reaction is immediate. He ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck, and laughs nervously. “Ah... no.” He mutters something else in Russian, and smiles bashfully at you. “That would be something Wade would say, but not me.”

You chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“You know, I could just tell you--”

“Uh-uh. I’m having fun with this. Don’t spoil it for me.”

The ‘myshka’ moments, as you call them, are a near constant part of your life after that. Colossus uses the term more than he uses your own name --not something you mind, though. You’re beyond tickled that he has a nickname for you.

You’re head over heels for him, plain and simple. Just about anyone can tell --except, as it would seem, Piotr.

Or, so you think.

Everything comes to a head a couple months after the hug moment on the back lawn, a little over a year after you arrived at the X-Mansion.

It’s a rainy day, which is almost a calamity in and off itself --it’s the week during the school year where all the teachers meet together and talk about curriculum and meeting student’s needs, which means the X-Force --since none of you, save for Piotr, are teachers--is stuck with babysitting duty.

Fortunately, Piotr volunteered to help, but that still leaves only four adults --Wade doesn’t count, since his impulse control is worse than some of the kids present--and three teenagers to try and manage a group of fifty bouncing, shrieking, hyperactive kids.

Neena ends up having the great idea to play hide and seek --which is perfect, since everyone can play.

You draw the short straw and start counting in the kitchen while everyone runs off. Once you reach ‘one hundred’ you pop up and run up to the library. You heard Piotr’s heavy steps heading in that direction, and an easy find will help you once you start tracking down your kids.

That, and you want to spend some time alone with him, but you’d only admit that to Wade. Under duress.

You pop into the library, victorious smile already tugging at your lips...

And he’s not there.

The library’s not empty, just notably Piotr-less. Instead, a large, pale man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with black hair and astonishingly blue eyes sits at one of the tables, drawing something on a sketchpad. He looks up when you walk in, seemingly startled.

“Oh --uh--sorry.” You smile politely. You’ve never seen this guy before --and you’d know if you had, because he’s capital H-O-T hot. Massive, thick muscles, smooth skin, gorgeous eyes, chiseled features, the whole nine yards. “Uh, you wouldn’t have happened to see a metal guy walk by, would you? About the size of your average giraffe, made out of steel, probably muttering something about safety or rules.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of the man’s mouth, and he points to the right.

“Thanks.” You pop back out of the library and dart down the hall to the right. You make it about halfway down, then stop.

The man’s face is stuck in your head. He looks so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before.

You jog back to the library, hellbent on scratching this itch that is currently occupying your brain.

The man looks up as you walk back in, smiling slightly as he watches you. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or confused. If anything, he looks borderline amused.

You stare at him, trying to match up his handsome features to the faces that you know at the mansion. You’re sure you’ve never seen his face before, but he also looks so fucking familiar...

And the man, he’s just... letting you stare at him. He’s staring back at you too, brow raised and the corner of his mouth lifted up into an small smile.

And that seals it for you, because there’s no way a stranger would be chill with you just ogling at them like this.

He’s almost the same size as Colossus, you think as you study him.

And that’s where it starts. You know Piotr draws --he teaches art to the kids here, actually. Honestly, this guy looks like him, too. He’s the right build, the right size, just shrunk down a little.

But it can’t be. You peer at his face, and --yeah--the features are right, just a little more delicate and articulate than Colossus’s metal ones. You do a double take, then let out a hesitant, “...Piotr?”

The man laughs --which settles it, because you know that laugh-and nods. “Da.” He sets down his sketchbook. “Honestly, I thought this would work better. I guess I can’t get anything past you, myshka.”

You grin at him, awestruck. “Holy shit... I... I didn’t expect this.”

Because, good God, he’s handsome. He was plenty attractive as a metal titan of justice, but he’s downright gorgeous like this. His hair is dark and fluffy and lays nicely against his forehead. His cheeks are rosy and flushed, and he actually has dimples that you’re guessing don’t show up with the metal armor in place, because you would’ve definitely noticed them before now for as much time you spend staring at his face.

And his eyes. His eyes are doing things to you. They’re making you think dirty, sexual things. You’re going to need to shower in holy water tonight. Holy shit.

“Oh my gosh!” You walk over to the table he’s sitting at and lean against the edge. “I didn’t realize you had a human form! I just thought you were metal all the time!” You hop up onto the edge of the table, look him up and down, and wink at him. “Looking babe-ly, my man.”

He chuckles --and it sounds completely different now that it’s not reverberating through layers of metal, but no less attractive. “Thank you. I prefer to be in my armor. Especially with Wade around.” He wrinkles his nose. “Wade... necessitates being ready for anything.”

You giggle, partially because he’s right, but mostly because you’re completely overwhelmed by his transformation. “Yeah, he does that.” You catch a glimpse of his sketchbook and gasp. “Whoa! You did that?”

It’s a detailed, intricate drawing of a bird. Well, ‘drawing’ might be underselling it; the bird looks so life-like that it looks like it’s about to fly off the page.

Piotr nods, cheeks flushing. “Da. It’s not finished yet.”

You make a choking noise. “Your ‘not finished’ looks like my ‘only in my dreams.’ Can you teach me how to draw? I’d love to get better.”

He nods again, smiling softly. “I would love to.” He leans forward in his seat, an excited expression on his face. “Would you like to see others?”

You nod eagerly. “Hell yeah.”

He shows you a few other sketches --there’s one of the gardens on the grounds, one of a set of mutant twins that shipped in from Russia a few weeks ago, and a full color one of a sunset that makes you gasp.

“Piotr, it’s beautiful,” You murmur as you gaze at the seamless blend of colors.

He cheeks flush again --he’s a blusher, apparently, and you probably shouldn’t like that as much as you do--and he smiles bashfully at you. “Thank you. This is not one of my better ones.”

“It’s wonderful,” You insist. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You can have it, if you want.”

You blink, startled and undeniably pleased. “Really? I don’t want to take it from you.”

“Really, myshka. If you like it, you can have it.”

“Piotr, that’s so sweet of you. I’d love to have it, if you’ll let me. Though, we should probably keep it in the sketchbook until the day’s done. I wouldn’t want it to get accidentally destroyed.”

You both move to close the sketchbook at the same time, your hands brush against each other. You gasp and stop to clasp his hand --still massive, especially compared to yours--in yours. “Oh my gosh. I’ve never felt you without your armor before!”

Thank goodness that Wade isn’t with you right now, because he’d never let you live that comment down. Unwitting innuendos aside, you’re right --you’ve never touched him out of his ‘armor mode’ before, and his skin is so much softer than you’d expected.

Your fingers make it halfway up his hand before you realize that you’re probably --definitely--crossing way too many lines right now. You withdraw your hand and let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. That was weird of me.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says quickly, cheeks flushing scarlet. “It feels... good.”

Well. That wasn’t the response you were expecting.

Encouraged by his reaction, you brush your fingers against the back of his hand again, moving them up and down his hand, over his wrist, and up his forearm.

He’s just as muscular as he looks. There doesn’t seem to be an inch of fat on him anywhere, even on his forearms.

You look up, ready to quip about how many protein bars he had to eat to look like this, but the words die in your mouth when you see the look he’s giving you.

He’s staring at you --gazing at you, really. His blue eyes are watching your every move, intense and... maybe even a little fond? He smiles softly as he lifts his free hand and lets his fingers graze against your forearm. “May I?”

You nod, temporarily rendered mute from his intense gaze and the overall earnestness of his expression.

His gaze lowers to follow his fingers as he touches you in kind, fingers brushing against your skin. He traces his fingers over your forearm and up to your shoulder, lips parted slightly as he studies you. Then, in a moment of boldness that you almost can’t believe, he lifts his hand to your face and grazes his fingers against your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch. You don’t try to stop your pleased smile or the soft, happy sigh that follows. What would be the point? You’re one hundred percent head over heels for this man, and if he hasn’t figured that out by now, he never will.

When you open your eyes again, you gasp.

He’s staring at you, at your face, with such a strong intensity that it almost knocks you over.

You watch as his gaze lingers on your lips for a long moment, then flits back to your eyes, and you decide ‘fuck it’ and lean in to press your lips against his.

Piotr’s reaction is almost immediate. His free hand comes up to press against your back, pulling you towards him.

You slide off the table and into his lap, perhaps a little too happy to close the gap between the two of you. You let your hands rest against his muscular chest, bracing yourself against him.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss, gasping slightly. “Bozhe moi.” He looks utterly delighted as he smiles at you. “I have wanted to do that for... for a while.”

You grin back, completely blissed out. “Yeah. Me too.” You wince when you catch sight of the clock and realize that you’ve spent half an hour in the library with him. “We should probably go find the kids. It’s been thirty minutes.”

Piotr stands --careful to not knock you over--and tucks his sketchbook under his arm. “Da. Lead the way.”

You walk out of the library together, hand in hand.

The rest of the day is spent sharing quick glances and smiles with each other, along with careful, appropriate touches.

Wade shoots you a look when Piotr’s hand lingers on the small of your back longer than strictly necessary, then gives you two thumbs up --along with a series of crass gestures that make you roll your eyes--when you nod and grin excitedly.

Fortunately, the rain lets up about an hour before dinner, which means that you can take the kids outside to eat dinner. Hot dogs and fries --along with plenty of healthy sides, thanks to Piotr--are distributed to all the bouncing, happy kids on brightly colored disposable plastic plates.

You sit next Piotr during dinner and occasionally manage to share sweet looks and smiles with him before one of the kids distracts one or both of you. You can’t help but grin when you watch him converse with the set of twins from Russia, and you absolutely relish the way his leg presses against yours during the entire meal. You stay after everything’s done to help him clean up, hoping to have enough time to sneak another kiss. 

Wade, the ever dependable wing man, manages to persuade or coerce the rest of the X-Force into herding the gaggle of kiddie mutants back into the mansion. He gives you an excited thumbs up, mouths the words ‘suck his face... or his dick’ at you, then disappears inside, closing the door behind him.

You smile up at Piotr. “Hey.”

He smiles back. “Hi.”

“What were you and the twins talking about?” You ask as you stack up a table’s worth of plastic plates.

“Mostly about what they think of America. They think the weather is too hot.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, it must be a big transition for them. Not gonna lie, it was really cute to watch you interact with them.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows. “Da?”

You nod. “Yeah. You’re really good with them.”

He ducks his head, cheeks flushing, then favors you with a bashful smile. “I liked watching you work with girl who can fly. I think you made her day when you showed your abilities.”

“She was a sweetheart,” You agree.

Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then leans forward and kisses your cheek. “She’s not only one.” He ties off the bag of trash from dinner and tosses it in a nearby barrel. “Shall we go for walk?” he asks when he turns back around.

You nod eagerly and take his hand.

The two of you walk towards the gardens, talking quietly about the day and what you think about the kids living at the X-Mansion.

Piotr leads you to a bench tucked behind a tree. He tugs your hand gently so that you sit down next to him and promptly presses his lips against yours once you do. “Sorry,” he says once the two of you part. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

You kiss him again, simply out of the satisfaction that you can. “Don’t apologize. I was hoping you’d do that.” You snuggle up against him and lay your head against his shoulder. “So, do you want to know what my last guess for what ‘myshka’ means is?”

He grins at you. “Sure.”

You can feel your face flush as you gaze up at him. “Does it mean ‘beautiful?’”

He shakes his head. “Nyet, though you are very beautiful.”

You can help but glow under his affection. “Well, then, I give up. I have no idea what it means.”

“Does that mean I can tell you now?”

“Go for it. I’m dying to know.”

He takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. “It means ‘little mouse.’”

You frown at him. “Really? ‘Little mouse?’ I know I’m short, but I didn’t think I was that small.”

He laughs quietly. “It is not about height.” The tips of his ears go downright scarlet. “In Russia, it is term of endearment... that boyfriends use for girlfriends.”

Oh.

You have to take a minute to process the new information.

He’d been calling you myshka for the better part of a year now --knowing full well what it meant.

“Does... does that mean you liked me all this time?”

He nods, fixing with that intense, gorgeous blue gaze of his. “Da. You are kind, and smart, and unbelievably fierce, and achingly beautiful. You swept me off my feet the moment I met you with your humor and spirit, and I have been in love with you ever since.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve kissed you months ago!”

“You told me not to say anything! What was I supposed to do?”

You slump back against the tree. “Man, the one time my stubborn streak really doesn’t pay off.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I think it all worked out in end.”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m disagreeing with that.” You grin up at him. “So, Mr. Rasputin, is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He blushes, but nods. “Da.”

You’re pleased beyond words, and simply opt to kiss him again.

“May I take that as ‘yes?’” he asks when you break the kiss, slightly breathless.

“Da,” You reply, earning a soft, sweet smile and an equally sweet kiss from him.

[blacksheep1105stuff]

Hello guys,

here a new one shot for :) I’m thinking of making a whole fic out of this. Maybe let me know if you like to read more? :)

A HUUUGE thank you to the lovely @froglady15 for helping me and improving this piece so much!!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12239118

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12673068/1/The-Sweetest-Dream

The Sweetest Dream

   15th May 767, 5.37pm

 37 steps.

 It takes 37 steps to walk from one wall to the other of the huge and ostentatious living room area. With quick, large steps, she walked from the blank red wall and passed by the mahogany table that was surrounded by cream seating furniture; the two armchairs and a u-shaped sofa big enough to sit at least 6 people comfortably.

 She stopped for a moment and thought about how much she loved sitting on one of those extremely cozy armchairs with a blanket and her head phones, listening to her favorite music. Other times, she was content laying there to doze off to sleep, read or watch TV. And her favorite thing: watching out of the huge window into the fascinating, colorful sky.

 Bulma had also spent many evenings sharing the sofa with Vegeta, just lying there with him, arm in arm as they savored the intimacy and closeness of other before they went to bed.

 As she looked at the sofa, she remembered how that little ritual had started. It was maybe a half year or 9 months ago, after they’d had a huge fight about Bulma's thirst for adventure. She had gotten bored sitting around the palace all by herself and had gone out into the desert to get some soil samples to satisfy her scientific curiosity and to fight the boredom that had taken hold of her at that time. Unfortunately, she’d gone alone. Not the best idea since even she couldn't judge the safety of the area. So of course, it had to happen that the unpredictable weather changed rapidly and she found herself caught in the middle of a horrific sand storm that would have been lethal to her safety if Nappa hadn’t found her just in time to rescue her.

Vegeta had been furious and Bulma partially understood why he had reacted that way.

Yes, she could have died. No, she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Yes, she needed to be reminded of that from time to time, but he had completely freaked out and had begun throwing a tantrum and since Bulma was always confrontational herself, the fight had escalated quickly and had ended up with Bulma refusing to share the bed with Vegeta, deciding to sleep on the big white sofa alone, rather than share a bed with Vegeta.

 Because Vegeta is as stubborn as she is, he had ignored her behavior initially and had gone to bed all alone until he couldn't stand the cold of the empty spot beside him anymore. With silent steps, he walked over to the sofa and stood over her for a moment, internally fighting with himself over what he should do before he finally crawled in behind her under her blanket, carefully melting against her soft body; protectively hugging her and enjoying her warmth against his chest and eventually he felt her small hand stoking over his forearm lovingly, accepting his presence and accepting him.

 Bulma shook her head as she reminisced and she continued walking over to the large window that spanned from the roof to the floor and was almost as wide as the wall itself. Behind the glass was a balcony with a beautifully detailed marble stone handrail.

 She placed her cold hands against the glass and leaned forward slowly until her burning hot forehead touched the window as well, the cold material almost comforting her as she closed her eyes to stop the burning in her eyes. She relished in the silence for a moment before opening her eyes again, pushing herself forcefully away from the glass and started walking back to the red wall, pulling her hair in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the tension that was flowing through her whole body as she patiently waited for news for the past two hours.

 Two hours.

 Two hours had passed since she had been informed.

 "My princess," the tall man began as he kneeled down in front of her, bowing his head respectfully, hoping to hide the sorrow that was painted all over his face and looked at her again as he reported. "We lost the connection to the prince's scouter. The last transmission…" he almost chocked on his own words, unable to speak out loud the horrific news lying on his tongue. She knew what it meant, but she didn't want to believe it. Her mind denying what her heart already knew. Her throat went dry immediately, her whole body was tense as her stomach clenched and a cold sweat ran down her neck and her back.

 "The last transmission..?" She whispered. Even for his amazingly sharp Saiyan hearing, her words were almost inaudible to Nappa.

 He still hesitated.

 "Nappa! Answer me!" Bulma demanded in a loud and shrill voice that made her throat burn.

 In a quiet voice, he eventually did as she demanded. "The last transmission showed him in an inescapable and hopeless fight. He was hit by an overwhelmingly strong attack. We… we..." he lowered his head to hide his face and therefore the emotions of fear, desperation and sorrow as he continued, "We sent a search party. Maybe his scouter was only damaged and he’s alive, but there is little hope." His last words were only a whisper.

 "M-maybe… I mean… that's… that's possible, right? Right?? He said it's a weak race, almost no technology. There is NO WAY they could possibly harm our troops, let alone Vegeta!" What started as a whisper turned into sobbing until she almost screamed in the highest pitch the Saiyan had ever heard. Bulma was a wreck.

 Within seconds, it sank into her mind that she might have lost her beloved husband forever and while clutching her throat in fear, she dropped to her knees. Nappa was barely able to catch her before she blacked out.

 37 steps...

   17th May 767, 12.47pm

 His pillow.

 It was so soft and cozy and his smell that still clung to it comforted her for the last two days. Bulma lay on his side of the bed, his blanket rolled up into a long sleeve, one leg pulled over it like it was him. She was cuddling, hugging his pillow and inhaling his scent, with only her silent tears being a mute evidence of the emotional thunderstorm raging inside of her.

 A light knock on the door woke her up as she was about to doze off again. She didn’t care to answer.

 Another knock. No answer.

 The big mahogany door was pushed open gently and the slave who had been in her service this week took a shy peek through the door.

 "My princess?" The soft voice of a woman called out for Bulma, who didn’t bother to move or give any sign of acknowledging the slave’s presence. "I... I have your lunch, my princess."

 Only an annoyed deep sigh from Bulma was what the servant got in response.

 Food…

 Again…

 When would they accept that she didn’t want to eat? How could she? Vegeta was missing and was very likely dead and she was here eating and drinking and enjoying herself? Disgusting.

 'The fuck? Just leave me all alone.' Bulma had no strength to speak the words out loud; the lack of nutrition and the emotional exhaustion beginning to take its toll and show their ruthless consequences already.

 The slave stepped inside the huge living area, her chains clanking with every movement as she put down the plate of food --- some fruit and sandwiches--- before she picked up the untouched breakfast plate. The living area was only divided from the bedroom with a door that was always open. The slave knelt down at the doorframe. "My princess? I brought you your lunch. How may I serve you now?"

 The young woman's skin was a beautiful light green like the young leaves on trees in the spring. Her hair was the most wonderful shade of lily's purples, her eyes blue as the ocean. She had once radiated pure life. Now she was a slave; malnourished, tired and worn out. Her dress and make up were beautiful and she was dressed up like a doll for the royals; even her chains matched with the golden hem of her dress. Tomorrow would start a new week and she would be allocated to the kitchen and would have to wear the old worn out gray and dirty scraps she had been wearing daily for years.

 "Leave."

 She hesitated. "Forgive me, my princess, are you alright?"

 'My husband is dead, what do you think?'

 "Leave…" came the very tired and exhausted reply, this time quieter, clutching the pillow a little bit tighter than she had previously.

 His pillow.

  19th May 767, 11.26pm

 The sofa.

 It was illuminated with the moon light when everything else sat in the silent dark.

 Slow and heavy steps brought her to her favorite cozy and always comfort giving armchair in the living area, where her lunch still awaited for her on the table.

 Bulma chewed on a dry slice of bread as she stared through red, swollen eyes at the sofa she had broken down on four days ago.

 "11.15pm, Nappa, 11.15pm. It's already been eight hours since the last report. Do you still not yet have any new information??? They, they… I mean… what if he’s hurt? He needs medical help! Why is it taking so long??" Panic was taking her over, her movements were uncontrolled as she hectically stumbled uncoordinated from one spot to the other.

 Bulma was a complete mess. Only eight hours and it felt like four days since she’d heard the horrible news. Eight hours of crying, screaming, denying and inner mental conversations in a pitiful attempt to convince herself that he could still be found alive. Eight hours of walking around in a restless panic through the living area of the rooms she shared with Vegeta.

 "I.... I do have. We just got a report from the search party..." He looked at her with a hurtful expression as a lump formed in his throat.

 "Report, Nappa!!" Knowing the answer but still hoping to be wrong, she shrieked hysterically at him.

 "I... I'm sorry, his body was found, he’s dead, princess Bul-"

 Bulma didn't hear Nappa anymore, everything becoming a blur as she stumbled over the sofa just before she fell on it and blacked out.

 The sofa she had spent so many intimate moments with her husband on.

   22th May 767, 9.47am

 She laid on his side of the bed. Again. Sobbing in his pillow. Again.

She didn't shower and barely ate anything since… since… the announcement from Nappa that... he... She couldn’t even say it to herself

The pillow still smelled like him, even after she wet it repeatedly with her tears, but something was different. His masculine and musky scent was mixed up with a sweet and stinging one. Was she making it all up? Did she just imagine the smell of death while thinking about him lying on this foreign planet dead in his own blood, while his tanned and beautiful skin would slowly darken as maggots and flies were dancing and feasting on his rotting body?

Disgusted and in an attempt to get rid of the horrific scene playing out in her head, she turned around, away from Vegeta’s pillow. Clinging to it only seemed to put her imagination into overdrive with morbid thoughts, rather than pleasant ones. The putrid smell sticks to her nose like her blue, long, usually so full-bodied, but now oily hair sticks to her sweaty forehead.

 She was pulled out of her thoughts when the heavy door swung open once more.

 For days people kept coming in and out of her room. Talking to her, asking her questions, touching her. It all was becoming a blur to her. She didn’t care anymore.

 Three years ago she would have never thought she would even mind him being gone. No, she would have even been happy about his death that would have freed her from her invisible chains and responsibilities she had been forced to take on. Yes, only death, his or hers, would have liberated her from this special kind of slavery.

 She had been taken away from her beautiful planet, stolen from her family’s love, kidnapped from her home, abused, ravaged and sold like a worthless piece of junk until she had the misfortune to land on this godless lump that is, for her incomprehensible reasons, allowed to be called planet.

 It was nothing like her home. No, instead it was the exact opposite and absolutely unbearable - excessively hot, soulless and dirty. Just like the inhabitants, she found.

 The leader of the nastiness was the prince of the planet inhabiting race, Prince Vegeta! Urg. Not a living being, but a machine. His only purpose was to kill. Emotionless, soulless, ignorant, arrogant and extremely disobedient, much to his father’s sorrow. He didn't think that she, this disgraceful slave named Bulma, was worth any attention so she hadn't dealt with sexual harassment like usual, but only when she was around him.

 The King had tried his best to control his son, but it seemed that everything he did made it even worse. The prince was like a rebellious and immature adolescent when it came to taking orders. During an intense argument, he threatened his son that he would marry him off to a slave. Bulma, who was ordered to serve the wine for the dinner that day, had flinched as Vegeta’s loud laugher boomed through the huge dining room as he told the king he wouldn't have the guts to marry his only heir to the throne off to a worthless slave.

 Bulma had wished she could just leave, like every servant in the room. The whole atmosphere was tense, everything looked like it was going to be a fight and no mortal, who clung on to even a tiny bit to life, wanted to be close when the Saiyans were engaged in the merciless and recklessness of their mortal combat.

 Just as Bulma had finished pouring the king some more wine, she had noticed his expression change. The usual mocking and arrogant look on the face of the king showed how much those disrespectful words had enraged him, but quickly a smile replaced the scowl just before he grabbed the woman to his side and announced her to be the chosen bride for his son.

 Prince Vegeta dropped his utensils, Bulma broke the glass she was carrying.

 Back then, they were forced into that marriage and it had not been easy for either of them.

Finally, he started paying attention to her, but not the kind anyone would want to have. It hadn’t mattered that she was a princess now, she had been a slave back then and he still treated her like one. He was cruel and disrespectful, even bullying her, letting out all his frustration of this forced marriage out on her. A child with another race, a half-Saiyan with impure blood would never be accepted as a legitimate heir to the throne and if he was not able to have an heir with his wife, then according to the laws of the Saiyan race he was not a legitimate heir himself. Which meant that his father had not only forced him into a marriage he didn't want with a worthless slave he did not even see as a living being with rights, the king also took everything he had ever wanted - to rule the realm of the mightiest race in the whole universe. Something he prided himself to have been a part of.

 Everyone knew it. Everyone knew about the shame his father had brought upon him. He saw it in their mocking eyes.

 Bulma was the one who had to pay for it. She had cried herself to sleep every night. She was trapped in that hopeless situation. She was convinced that only death could save her and more than once, she tried to convince herself that jumping from the balcony would be as sweet as flying. Other times she tried to eat so much until she exploded or at least puked herself to death, but the only result was that her stomach hurt and she was satisfied because she'd eaten the most delicious food. Being a princess had its advantages too.

 It took them one exhausting year until he first started to treat her like a person with rights. An additional year later, they started to fall for each other and today... 

 Today she was desperately sniffing the last remaining particles of his scent and drowning in her grief, unable to move, to eat, to live.

She laid on his side of the bed, sobbing into his pillow again.

  27th May 767, 2.31pm

 Beep.

 The sound of the opening button for the automatic door was beginning to annoying her. This sound usually meant someone was going to pester her to eat, speak, clean or do something else she had no energy for and honestly doesn't give a fuck about. And this time won't be any different.

 She heard the footsteps that announced a person approaching her.

 Tap tap tap. One after the other and every tap bugged her even more than the one before.

 "Leave!" She demanded angrily but powerless, not even bothering to look at the intruder.

 "But I just arrived," the person replied in an amused tone.

 She instantly recognized the voice and turned around in Saiyan speed and looked at him with her eyes as wide open as the swelling allowed.

 There he was! Hurt, dirty, tired, alive.

 Alive!

 His armor was broken, his clothes ripped, his body bruised, dried blood trailed down his temple along his jawline and left a dark line on his face, but he was alive.

Alive.

 Bulma instantly jumped out of their bed, feeling instantly dizzy and tripping because of the lack of nutrition and movement the last two weeks.

 She closed her eyes in full expectation of being reprimanded for neglecting herself in his absence. Her elation of his return was dampened somewhat with pain as she collided onto the floor in her excitement to get to him. Strangely enough, a severe reprimand over her condition never came. Instead, she felt one of his strong arms gently wrap around her slim waist, the other around her neck, keeping her head up and holding her firmly but gently, protectively, just as she had gotten accustomed for him to be. Her arms hung loosely at her sides and when she opened her eyes again slowly.

 She found herself staring into his endless, deep black eyes. As he stared intensely back at her, she felt like she’d just been saved from the dragon that had pulled her deep into its pit of despair. She was looking back at her hero.

 Bulma was lost in those dark eyes, believing she could look right into his soul and see the true person behind his well build up façade, but the moment he blinked, the magic was gone.

"You... are... how... Ve-?" Her eyes were wide and showed her excitement, her hope, her happiness and her exhaustion.

 With trembling hands she touched his face, convincing herself that he really was there and she wasn’t just imagining him. Convincing herself that he really was there and she wasn’t just imagining him in her current mental state. His tanned skin felt so familiar under her hand. So warm, so soft, so comforting, so… so.... real. She instantly had the biggest and happiest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

 Bulma let out a shaky breath she hadn’t known she was holding as her eyes filled with tears of pure and honest joy. Even in her state of unwashed, oily hair, swollen eyes, exhausted and underweight, every man would have thought the happiness on her face made her the most beautiful woman in the whole universe.

 When she pulled herself closer to him, to be able to swing her slender arms around his strong neck, she was able to have a look over his shoulder to the door, where Nappa was standing. His genuine smile told her, she was not hallucinating, but this was real. Her missing in action and presumed dead husband was back!

 "I thought you... You were...dead," she whispered in his ear as she sobbed, still hugging him as they stood there like that for a while. Vegeta not only let her hug him, but he also tightened his grip around her and squeezed her gently in return. "They told me your scouter was disconnected and the last transmission left no doubt that there was no way you could have survived. And... And... the rescue party… they…" slowly she loosened her hug on him only to cup his face between her hands and leaned her forehead gently against his as he mimicked her actions, still embracing her. "How is it possible...? Or is this just the sweetest dream I ever had?"

 "It doesn't matter anymore, Bulma," his rough voice and the use of her name said more than his words. She knew instantly he himself was exhausted, hungry and glad to be finally able to hold her again.

 Bulma gave him a sweet, loving smile, as her soft hands glided down as gently as possible on Vegeta’s face, neck, over his shoulders and finally rest them on his forearms just below his elbows. After a short check on Vegetas injuries, she turns around to Nappa to gives him orders.

 "Get a doctor over here with a first aid box and some regenerating fluid from the healing tanks and let’s prepare a huge dinner for the prince, all in one hour." Her voice demanding, but also showing the joy she wasn’t even trying to hide.

 "Yes, my princess. My prince.” Nappa bowed respectfully before leaving them.

 ~~~~

 The hot water hit his broad shoulders smoothly and ran down his back comfortably. The hot shower was just what his tense muscles had needed, Bulma assumed, as her clever hands gently massaged the soap into his skin from his hard chest to his flat stomach, carefully circling every bulge of his abdomen while avoiding his wounds as best as she could. A soft groan escaped his lips in reward and she smiled lovingly at him in return. Her gentle hands dancing tenderly over his skin until they found their way again up over his shoulders and neck to his hair, caressing his skull, which she knew he loved the most. She had found that out during the long, silent nights they had spent together cuddling and enjoying the closeness and trust of the other.

 He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes; his features relaxed more than she’d ever seen before. While she was washing him, he relished it; appreciating her affections before his lips found hers for a deep kiss. This was not a sexual moment, but probably the most intimate one they had ever shared as a couple.

 ~~~~

 Exactly one hour after Nappa left, the doctor arrived and dinner was served, just as Bulma had ordered. The doctor checked Vegeta from head to toe and confirmed Bulma's impression, that Vegeta’s wounds are just superficial, which the doctor already treated with the regenerating fluid.

 Bulma was surprised that he hadn’t complained about anything today. He’d let her hug him in front of Nappa, he hadn’t tried to get away from her affections in the shower and he hadn’t even growled at the doctor. It was so out of character for him, such a different behavior, but while smiling to herself, she decided not to question her luck as she tried to rationalize it to herself that it was because of his exhaustion and hunger and he was probably glad himself, even if he would never admit it, that he was finally back home.

 ~~~~

 The table was full of empty dishes and bowls and here and there leftovers like bones, shells and skins. On one end of the table was a very satisfied and pleased Vegeta and on the other end, a very happy Bulma who couldn’t tear her eyes away from her husband. She walked over to him to take his hand and lead him over into the bedroom.

 As they reached the bed, she placed her slender fingers on his broad chest and lightly pushed him. He allowed himself to sink into the edge of their comfortable king size bed before she sat down on him, straddling his lap. His tail wrapped around her slim waist instantly, their chests almost touching and she felt his body heat radiating from him, warming her body and her heart, as she started to softly massage his muscular shoulders, thick neck and made her way over to his ears, which she knew he loved when she lightly kneaded them, a soft moan and goosebumps confirming it again to her. From his ears, her hands wandered in gentle circles over his temples until she finally reached his scalp. When her slim fingers travelled through his thick mane and her nails scrapped smoothly over his skin, she could feel him relaxing against her, hugging her a bit tighter and squeezing her gently as he rested his forehead against her small shoulder.

 When her hands wandered back down to his cheeks, she pulled away a little, just enough to be able to see him looking up at her as she leaned in closer to his face, letting her lips lightly ghost over his. They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a moment; the world around them disappearing, just before they shared an affectionate and tender kiss while they lay back on the king size bed.

 That night she dreamt of their third anniversary, which took place a few days before he left for the mission. He had abducted her to a nearby planet, which looked like paradise. They inhabited a small but luxurious beach hut, surrounded by tropical vegetation. It was quiet, idyllic and isolated. The perfect place for a romantic vacation. Of course he would never admit it was romantic. It was safe, it was manageable, it was bla bla bla, everything but not romantic. It was for her and she knew he had done it for her. That was all she needed to know to be happy.

 They spent the last whole day on the private, white sand beach, lying in the sun, enjoying the quiet; only the sound of the waves accompanied them, lulling her into sleep.

 When Bulma opened her eyes again, she blinked against the bright light. The soft and comforting sound of waves turned into the annoying beep of a heart rate monitor.

 Beep... beep... beep…

 As she tried to shield her eyes from the quivering neon light, her movement is blocked by the I.V. in her hand.

 Beep

 Confused, she sat up slowly and tried to take in the room until she finally noticed that she was in the infirmary. 'Why am I here? What the hell had happened?' She tried to recall the last night and how she came to be there, when she was just a moment ago she was on the beautiful beach with her husband, but she couldn’t remember; it was all a blur.

 Beep

 Nappa sat sleeping in a chair in one corner of the room, the door was closed. Through the window she could see the night sky. It was beautiful. She always loved that colorful night sky in which sat the stunning image of a Saturn-like planet. She admired the planet for a moment before she let her tired eyes wander through the room until she noticed the digital clock. For a moment her heart stopped beating, cold sweat running down her back and the heart rate monitor quickened up the frequency of the beep which she couldn’t even hear anymore.

 Beep beep beep beep beep.

 Her eyes started to burn until a single tear rolled down her cheek and eventually dropped onto her hand.

 Beep beep beep

 She stared at the clock, unable to tear her eyes away from the green thick numbers, which were mocking her.

 Beep

 15th May 767, 9.39 pm.

 Beep.

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 6

Or: Phantomas of Notre Dame

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Paris—March 12, 1994

The official smile of Paris is the sneer. The rich sneer at the middle class. The middle class sneer at the poor. And they all sneer at the hordes of tourists who flood their city each year.

I’ve actually remembered these lines since I first read them as a kid. I don’t know why, beyond it being Baby’s First French Stereotype Joke, but I did. I forgot what book they were from though, so when I reread Blood War and found them again, it was a nice surprise.

Their mockery, according to the guidebooks, is part of the charm of Paris. The city, with it’s great restaurants, fabulous museums, superb monuments, and long history, breeds contempt for the lesser achievements surrounding it. The average Parisian citizen considers himself far superior to anyone from outside the city.

It’s only Paris being singled out here, but still, I want to apologize to any French readers. It isn’t going to get much better for you guys in this book. But hey, at least your capital city isn’t a gang warzone.

That attitude explains, at least in theory, the joy the natives get from telling tales of the Phantom of the Paris Opera.

Not only are Parisians assholes, but they bug you into reading their Phantom of the Opera fanfics.

There’s some cliffnotes about the story (written by Gaston Leroux, demented genius living under the Paris Opera, hideously scarred, etc.), then we learn the titular Phantom is the French equivalent of Australia’s drop bears: a made up monster they tell gullible American tourists about to fuck with them.

Parisians loved to elaborate on the fantasy for gullible tourists, saying how, though he had reportedly been destroyed, the body of Eric, the Phantom, had never been found. And that every year, a few unwary tourists to the Opera House disappeared without a trace.

It was typical malicious Parisian humor. Often, the story was accompanied with a breathless attempt to sell bootleg souvenirs such as an authentic map of the catacombs or a page from the score of the Phantom’s infamous lost opera.

Or those little Mickey Mouse paper dolls that supposedly dance to music but are just attached to a motor by an invisible string. My ma fell for that one.

I don’t know if Parisians in real life actually do this, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I hear the Louvre used to give The Da Vinci Code themed tours. This sounds more fun than that, and less soul-crushing.

I admit that I’ve never read The Phantom of the Opera. I saw the play on an elementary school field trip to Broadway, but I barely remember it. I know the book begins with an intro where Leroux claims it’s a true story, but I figured it’s a true story the way The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a true story. I looked it up anyway, just so I don’t look like an uncultured moron if I dismissed it and was wrong. Turns out, the story was inspired by a real incident at the Paris Opera where a chandelier counterweight (not the chandelier itself) fell down and killed someone. There was a crackpot theory at the time that the accident was actually an assassination attempt. That’s something I didn’t know. Guess I owe Weinberg one for getting me to learn something.

Back to the story. Parisians like to use the Phantom to fuck with tourists, but there are other stories they don’t tell them. Stories that poor shopkeepers tell each other behind closed doors like the superstitious European peasant stereotypes they pretend they aren’t. Stories that were handed down from generation to generation about unexplained disappearances plaguing the Île de la Cité (aka the place where the Notre Dame cathedral is).

Common to every narrative was the same name. A title that when said aloud could cause the most elegant Parisian to blanch in terror.

What, Quasimodo’s some kind of French cryptid too? I know the original book character wasn’t as nice as the Disney version, and he’d be an obvious candidate for a Nosferatu (or a Ravnos if you wanna be a dick) but he was hardly-

Phantomas.

Oh. Alright, yeah, different literary character, but I can go along with it.

Officially, the French Sûreté (cops, pigs, po-po, babylon) dismiss such rumors as the insane ramblings of demented poets living on the West Bank. No mention is made of a file, five inches thick, hidden deep in the files of police headquarters. Contained in it are hundreds of reports, dating back a hundred and fifty years to the time of Chief Inspector Vidocq, detailing the circumstances surrounding hundreds of disappearances in the vicinity of the famous cathedral of Notre Dame.

I bet at least one report blames Quasimodo.

One actual report is a six page article, never made public, by a historical commission about the hundreds of myths and legends surrounding the church, all connected by a ghostly figure seen in the Cathedral at night. I’ll give you one guess at what it actually is.

Though he is called by a dozen different names in the tales, he is always described as incredibly ugly. And a drinker of human blood.

Yep. A goddamn mage.

In turn-of-the-century France, the vampire’s name had gained such notoriety that a series of mystery thrillers featuring an arch-fiend called Fantomas became best-sellers. None of the stories explained the origin of the mastermind. Or why he preyed on the citizens of Paris. They were works of fiction, not fact.

In case old French pulp isn’t your thing, Fantomas, spelled with an F, was a character created in 1911 by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre. He’s a master criminal like Arsène Lupin, except instead of a gentleman thief he was a sadistic murderer and Grade-A pure evil bastard. There’s nothing supernatural about Fantomas. He’s just a regular human who’s really good at murder, framing innocent people for said murder, and getting away with it. Apparently, thanks to the 1960′s film trilogy, he’s usually remembered in French pop culture wearing a blue mask that covers his entire head.

You can see how that guy would inspire a Nosferatu character. Also Destro from G.I. Joe.

But as just explained, in this setting it’s the other way around. And despite being portrayed as what the French call “a homicidal piece of shit”, the “real-life” Phantomas is a big fan of the stories.

The subject of these various novels, reports, and studies found them all vastly amusing. He had enjoyed the Fantomas novels immensely and had even sent the author several anonymous letters suggesting future ideas for plots. To his intense disappointment, none of his ideas had ever been used. Once or twice he had mentally debated visiting the novelist to plead his case. But Phantomas suspected his physical appearance might do his cause more harm than good.

That... is goddamn fucking adorable. He’s just been introduced and I already hope he survives the trilogy and discovers online fanfiction.

The vampire readily acknowledged his ugliness. Standing exactly five feet tall, with skin wrinkled as a prune, eyes like raisins, and a nose the size and shape of a sweet potato, he had caused more than one drunken Parisian to swear off red wine forever. A gaping mouthful of yellow teeth and bulging red eyes propelled his face out of the realm of the bizarre into the domain of the grotesque.

Eh. Someone in this fandom would still bang him.

Wait, eyes that were both “like raisins” and “bulging”? How does that work?

Phantomas is the Nosferatu on the cover of the second book of this trilogy, if you want a visual reference.

See, he’s even still got some hair. He’s not that bad looking.

Phantomas might enjoy the fiction he inspired about a murderer, but he’s not happy about being blamed for real murders of innocent people, regarding it as “cheap slander”. The centuries of recorded disappearances were the results of more natural and obvious crimes.

While he occasionally satisfied his thirst on some poor unfortunate, Phantomas rarely killed innocents if it could be avoided. A quiet, gentle soul, all he wanted was to be left alone in his underground lair, pursuing his research.

Over the years a host of villains had used his presence on the Île de la Cité as an alibi for their murders. Their victims ended, not in his hideaway, but dumped in the Seine. Most had escaped the guillotine. However, Phantomas was less forgiving. And his justice was as sharp and final as any blade.

So other than a few accidents, the only people Phantomas “disappeared” were the criminals responsible for the rest of them.

Phantomas isn’t thinking about that dark business right now. He’s feeling great because he’s on his way to a party. The Prince of Paris, one Francois Villon, holds court once a month, and today’s such a day. Villon’s both a Toreador elder and French, so obviously he holds court in the Louvre.

Dozens of Kindred, along with several hundred of the Prince’s favorite ghouls and kine, attended the festivities. This evening the Prince entertained an important Tremere wizard visiting from Vienna. Phantomas loved such events. Though never invited, he never missed one.

There goes my heart, breaking for poor old Phantomas again...

But this time the snub isn’t a case of a Toreador being a snob to a Nosferatu. Villon just doesn’t know Phantomas exists.

The Prince was under the mistaken impression that he was the oldest, most powerful vampire in the City of Lights. He was neither. Phantomas had come to the Île de la Cité with the invading legions of Julius Caesar in 53 B.C.

I should apologize to the French again. Turns out Phantomas isn’t one of you guys. He’s a nice Italian man.

From here we’re launched into Phantomas’ pre-Phantomas backstory. In life he was Varro Dominus (Strong Ruler or Master), a young noble and soldier who worked under Caesar himself, and was in charge of recording his military campaigns. Ceasar’s legions arrived in the Île de la Cité, then called Lutetia, using it as a stepping stone across the Seine. Unfortunately for Varro, living among the easily conquered native tribesmen, pretending to be a forest god, was a fifth-generation Nosferatu named Urgahalt. The invading legions fascinated Urgahalt, what with their military strength, impressive latin names, and neat centurion helmets, and he Embraced Varro so he could introduce him into Roman society.

There’s an obvious flaw in this plan, since it’s difficult for a guy to introduce you to his culture when you’ve just made him an outcast from that culture, turning him into a shriveled prune monster with a sweet potato nose. And Varro knew it too. The Romans, or at least Varro, knew more about Kindred (or lemures, as they called vampires) than Urgahalt realized, including how to kill them. Pissed that bumping into this guy cost him his life and career, Varro staked him in the heart and turned him into a bonfire.

Convincing the legions to take him back would be a hard sell now, so Varro stayed behind on the island, pretty much never leaving during the millennia as modern Paris rose up around the guy.

He was as much a part of the city as the Eiffel Tower.

Which undersells Phantomas quite a bit since the Eiffel Tower’s only been around since 1889, but you get the point.

Turning into an ugly son of a bitch also turned Phantomas into the ultimate introvert, aside from those parties he likes attending. He stays hidden from everyone, including other vampires. Even other Nosferatu.

More than two hundred Kindred inhabited Paris and its suburbs. The Toreador Clan held control of the central city, but several other bloodlines roamed the streets, including rebel bands of Brujah, Gangrel, and Malkavians. Rumors spoke of a Sabbat pack anxious to spread dissension and revolt, with headquarters in the slums. At least a half-dozen Nosferatu lived in lairs beneath major museums and churches [sic] Yet even among the Kindred Phantomas was a legend, an unseen presence with no basis in reality. He was a phantom to the living and the undead.

Good call. If Parisians are like how the opening paragraphs describe them, I wouldn’t want to talk to them either.

In order to stay hidden, Phantomas lives in a huge underground lair hundreds of feet under Notre Dame, connected by a network of tunnels that stretched across Paris. He’s also a master of Obfuscate, the discipline that allows vampires, especially Nosferatu, to go around unnoticed, commonly by turning invisible. Right now, in order to get into the party, Phantomas is using the Mask of a Thousand Faces, the third-tier Obfuscate power that disguises a vampire as a random nobody human or an unimportant vampire, depending on whose looking at him. Looks like it also lets you pretend to hold an invitation and get away with it.

Shortly after midnight, he strolled past the two Assamites guarding the glass pyramid that served as entrance to the Louvre. They nodded without interest as he displayed an imaginary invitation and walked into the main hall.

That pyramid pissed a lot of older Parisians off when it was first built. Yeah, they complain about everything, but since the artsy-fartsy Toreador control the city, you’d think they would’ve prevented its construction. Unless the pyramid’s a Toreador idea, in which case no wonder everyone hated it.

(Parisians are over hating the pyramid these days, so don’t mention it unless you want them to think you’re in their city for one of those Da Vinci Code tours.)

Phantomas muttered a word of thanks to his Roman gods that Villon considered electronic monitoring devices provincial. His psychic camouflage worked flawlessly with humans and vampires. It was useless against cameras or television monitors.

The Louvre doesn’t have any security cameras? None at all?

In Phantomas’ opinion, the Prince was a pompous dandy who wouldn’t recognize true art if it hit him in the face.

Looks like Phantomas agrees with me about Toreador tastes in art.

Master of the Louvre, the finest art collection in history, Villon ignored the treasures of the past for the ephemeral pleasures of the moment.

Alright, In Villon’s defense, I think grandpa here might have some bias.

His mercurial tastes dominated the Parisian fashion scene. He surrounded himself with the most beautiful models in Paris, blood dolls who sipped on blood and dreamed of immortality. Like too many of the Kindred, Villon had never come to terms with his undeath.

I like Phantomas and all, but it’s not Villon sneaking into one of his parties, so what right does he have being judgmental?

But I think I get what Phantomas is thinking. Villon owns one of the most famous historical art museums in the world, but he only cares about celebrity shit and making beautiful but angry-looking women wear weird shit nobody else will actually wear.

The party was being held in the glass-roofed Cour Marley, but Phantomas was in no hurry to go there. Though he had visited the Louvre many times, he never skipped the opportunity to visit the galleries housing the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities. The museum housed perhaps the finest such collection in the world and, though Phantomas had the face and body of a monster, he possessed the soul of a poet.

This is the real reason he loves these parties so much, isn’t it. Grandpa just wants an excuse to visit the museum for like the billionth time.

Ten minutes he spent staring at the Venus de Milo.

Art appreciation, or the closest he gets to seeing boobs?

He walks around admiring other things, like “Winged Victory of Samothrace”, “Winged Bull”, and the statue of Queen Nefertiti.

The bust of Agrippa drew him to the Roman section. The famous general, the hero of Actium, had served Octavius, the grandnephew of his mentor, Julius Caesar. Staring at the statue made him feel old. Two thousand years separated him from his heritage.

I feel the same way whenever I meet someone born after Spongebob Squarepants first aired.

If not for a chance encounter in Gaul, his children might have fought against Mark Anthony. Or served in the Senate with Cicero.

Not if you stared at potential mothers the way you stared at the Venus de Milo and Agrippa’s bust.

He finishes his tour and finally heads to the party. If you’ve been paying attention to the plot, you know what’s about to happen.

As he drew closer to the courtyard, he frowned. There was no music. Villon’s parties always featured a loud rock band playing the latest hits. Tonight, the corridors were strangely silent.

Nirvana was supposed to play “About a Girl” but Villon kicked them out when Cobain let his turtles wander around and shit everywhere.

A tall, young man slender [sic], with blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood in front of the door leading to the Cour Marley. Dressed in a white suit with an open-necked white shirt, he nodded in greeting as Phantomas approached. It was almost as if he had been waiting for [sic] there for him.

Weinberg’s editor must’ve quit before getting to this chapter, after reading the part about Flavia’s rock hard leather-penetrating nipples. Also, ‘sup Reuben? What’ve you been doing the past two years?

Reuben doesn’t introduce himself. He just warns Phantomas not to go in. Phantomas is shocked that a human is talking to him at all. Mask of a Thousand Faces is supposed to disguise him as someone so boring not even Kindred are interested starting a conversation with him

“The Final Death waits inside,” continued the stranger, evidently not troubled by Phantomas’ concerns. “If you enter, you may never leave.”

“I am no coward,” stated the vampire simply. “After twenty centuries, I fear very little.”

Let’s see if that lasts longer than a page.

The young man smiled. “I suspected you would say that.” He stepped to the side. “Beware the Red Death, Phantomas.”

“Who are you?” asked Phantomas, startled. “How do you know my name?”

But the stranger had vanished. It was as if he had never been there.

Good old Reuben, scaring an old man, the trolling bastard.

Successfully freaked out, Phantomas opens the courtyard doors. To no one’s surprise, everyone’s dead. Even the regular non-ghoul humans.

The smell of charred and blackened human flesh assaulted his nostrils. A horrified glance around the courtyard revealed a dozen bodies of Villon’s favorites, their beautiful features burned beyond recognition. The fashion runways of Paris would be missing a number of familiar faces tomorrow. Mixed among the dead were the remains of twice as many ghouls. Nowhere was there life.

How he’s able to tell the models and ghouls apart, I don’t know.

Villon was gone. As were all other Kindred. However, dark shadows on the ground indicated to Phantomas that more than one had departed the Louvre permanently.

Can the French art and fashion worlds finally recover from the dark and untalented reign of the Toreador?

As if in answer to Phantomas’ unasked question, a gruesome figure stepped from behind the Marly Horses. Tall and lean, he wore a rotted shroud of funeral cloth held together by strips of moldering bandage [sic]. His face was

-that of a long-dead corpse, chalk-white skin, blah blah blah it’s the Red Death.

Slowly, the monster smiled.

“The meddling record keeper,” said the Red Death. He stretched out a skeletal arm. Phantomas could feel the heat thirty feet away. “Your termination will be a fitting conclusion to the celebration.”

Confronted by this horrifying fire monster who just massacred an entire party of vampires, ghouls, and humans, what does the famous Phantomas do? Something that both proves him a hypocrite and the smartest person in this goddamn book.

He hauls ass out of there.

Hundreds of years hiding beneath the streets of Paris had taught Phantomas an important lesson. When threatened, flee. Immediately. Don’t search for alternative solutions, don’t negotiate, don’t look back. Run as fast as possible until you reach safety. It was a basic survival technique that worked in the past. It served him tonight.

Phantomas ran. He burst through the doors of the Cour Marley, raced down the halls leading to the glass pyramid, and sprinted out into the night air without turning his head once to see if he was followed. Short and misshapen, he ran astonishingly fast.

Phantomas doesn’t stop running until he’s safely hundreds of feet underground in one of his tunnels. He escaped the Red Death.

He had escaped for the moment. But Phantomas felt certain he had not seen the last of the monster.

It had named him the record keeper. Somehow it knew of his great project. And the Red Death obviously disapproved.

We’ll find out more about Phantomas’ hobby the next time we catch up with him. For now, Chapter 6 ends on that mystery.

[iluvtv]

Thank you, it’s my attitude that keeps me young...

Processing Russian Doll has not been easy. It took a week and a full rewatch for me to even begin to touch this beautiful program’s intricacies through type. The iterations and research I prepared for this post have been almost as vast and extensive as the show itself.  Nearly a month later I decided to save the diatribes for casual conversation. Theories on how the show is a study of the Jewish allegory of Dybbuk or that the loss of characters throughout each life is mirroring the constant death of video game culture can surely be found elsewhere. Instead, I share a version of the draft I started jotting during my rewatch of this beautifully complicated story while sitting on the couch next to my own Mother, both of us quietly reckoning with the histories which brought us to that shared moment. 

Writing, like experience, is a process. For many, this show has brought on personal reflections of their own existential crisis. Presently, a communal and varied reception is floating through our technological ether, acting as intellectual interpretations of such.

And so, in an unusual act of rebellion, I will let my work here act as nothing more than an experiment in my strange and frequently limited relationship with emotions. An armored sort of void that is not without its own challenges.

Like Nadia I sometimes might be written off as the abyss.

And yet neither of us are enthusiastic about or entirely unharmed by such descriptions.

I have no illusions of blowing any minds here with an overtly innovative (though so often it feels that way to me) analysis of Russian Doll, and if you want to avoid spoilers perhaps just stop now (though nothing I say here would ruin your own experience with the show). However, if you want to go exploring through some proverbial baggage with me — I have just too many thoughts, tangents and feels not to write anything at all...

But first:

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I am at once moved, inspired, shaken and totally stunted. The vast creativity in writing and performance and imagery and music within these eight 24-minute episodes could debilitate many an artist. It's so easy here to rationalize giving up. There is no way I could ever create something as powerfully moving and detailed as Russian Doll.

This speaks to the intense fragility (so rarely acknowledged) which Headland, Lyonne and Poehler’s creation has provoked within.

This show, like it’s namesake which holds infinite women inside one another, is an onion. It can be peeled endlessly away— there is no core. The similes housed are so nuanced that solving them all would be a luxurious and laborious service. An intellectual’s ideal wank. Something future generations may hang their Philosophy dissertations on; much like the very pretentious characters which this show so cleverly mocks.

How very unusual, a narrative with notably distinct translations identifiable to everyone from the now aging homeless advocate of New York City in the 90’s to the Jewish millennial living in San Francisco currently participating in gentrification, to the middle-aged dad who never quite got over his suicidal tendencies, to the gamers and engineers entirely distracted with code. It is a glorious conglomeration of our own narcissism and the show’s creative genius which will allow us all to see ourselves here.

Twitter threads and articles debating such translations could distract our own heart for hours. In the end, though it is compassion which will leave room for growth and learning. In time we will not just slice the orange in half and find the ripeness in the fourth dimension but we will also discover another layer, or perhaps metaphors even the creators missed.

In part isn’t this some of the beauty of an increased number of minorities (ahem women) making art reaching the mainstream? The long-whispered narratives of silenced humans have become far more infinite and intricate than the stories we have heard before.

One might argue that the very notion that Nadia’s misfortune is provoked because she is “bad” defies a complex yet deeply scientific female perspective. It seems rational that a writer's room compiled exclusively of women would have enough experience in niceties to understand that no experience or person is entirely one thing. It is empathy whicxh allows us to view the sum of one’s parts. It is humanity which allows us all to persevere, coexist and most importantly notice that others are just doing the same.

And so there are moments in Russian Doll which speak to me so precisely.

The show’s playful exploration into Jewish Mysticism, which I once studied so diligently.

Nadia’s food choices, which I consistently noted before the subtle stitch of their relevance became obvious threads of the tapestry of her stories. The cottage cheese and roast chicken which is so spot on and terribly, neurotically Jewish. The fact that I noted her breakfast of cut watermelon in episode two as though it were a plot point -- which it did eventually become. My takeaways here so painfully reflect my own layered and tumultuous relationship with my body and moreover nourishment.

Nadia’s penchant for drugs and the ability to maintain her relationship to artificial mood enhancements. Through my lens of a similarly uncomplicated love affair with inebriation, I can’t help but find this characteristic terribly charming.

And oddly enough, Nadia’s clear choice of Emily over Anne. This one is tricky as I have zero memory of reading Emily of New Moon and yet I clearly remember loving it while Anne of Green Gables bored me. I know this sounds contrived but my mother concurred: I was a girl who loved Emily; couldn’t be bothered with Anne.

Then there are the less overt parts of Nadia. The painful side effects of what can be more easily spelled out. These are the elements of self I skip over (as did Nadia presumably) the histories of abuse and dysfunction, the draw towards said abyss and the imaginary, the solitude. Here we have a vibrant woman, unabashedly possessing an immodest thirst for life — an extrovert essentially, who somehow manages to remain on the peripheries. Again, this would be a perfectly apt way to describe me. Through silly, fun, terrifying, real and completely magical events however, Nadia is forced to reckon with both her past (and future) and come to terms with relativity.

I mean life is relative, right?

Watching all this forced a reckoning of my own.

People fade, plants and animals die, fruit rots and all the while Nadia battles with the existentialism turning 36 inevitably breeds.

(Speaking of invoked narcissisms I have for years threatened to throw myself an “I still haven’t gotten married or had kids so you never had to go to a bunch of bullshit showers but I’m going to have a huge double chai blowout” of my own. As the time approaches (14 months) this seems increasingly unlikely but the relevance of this age was definitely not lost on me).

Through all this sadness it is the small acts of kindness which somehow makes everything all right again and again. Very subtle pieces of humanity perpetuate life.

Relatively speaking.

Compassionate and honest interaction essentially induces a continued existence.

Alan says, “Our bodies can’t keep lying the way that our minds can”

And when Ruth mentions she heard the author of Emily of New Moon is haunting a house rather than the more familiar trope of Lucy Maud Montogomery’s suicide this makes me think the show is so much more about how you survive and persevere than how you fade.

As I slowly worked through these episodes (the first time) I wished hard that this show would offer hope and eventually it did just that.

But boy did it put me through the wringer through the process.