#what a choice of beverage indeed

[waitedforgarridebs]

Is it only me, or did anyone else also get a 5min giggle fit after receiving the latest escape room newsletter-

[littlefireball]

Well you haven't made a Seongjoong x Y/N smut before 😅 1. How about Y/n is their young teacher and Seongjoong are their students (Y/N is that one teacher that everyone thirsts over) Seonghwa is the quiet kid and Hongjoong is his outgoing bestfriend. 2. Seongjoong is in an omegaverse setting at idols and Y/n is their choreographer for a Matz song. (She's a regular choreographer) 3. Seongjoong is at the bar and they ask if y/n if she's open minded

This is my first time requesting for a smut on tumblr or anywhere. I rlly hope this makes it. No pressure take ur time ik books take time to write and i love ur header thingies

thank you for your request! this article is the 3rd one and i add some settings on it

ᴍᴀᴛᴢ|ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴘᴇᴛ (ᴍ)

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴛʜʀᴇᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ|ʙʀᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ|ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏ (??)|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ɪᴍᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴ|

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

Vampire series: San

© Pinterest

They were hungry. They needed something sweet, something delicious to satisfy their perverted desire.

Yet, it was hard. The noxious scent of most humans repulsed them; their blood, far from fresh, bordered on disgusting. Even animal blood, once a palatable substitute, now left Seonghwa and Hongjoong weary. The prospect of hunting human prey, unvisited for months, drove them to the brink of madness.

"I gotta be crazy," remarked Hongjoong, the taste of his drink doing little to quell the emptiness within him. No measure of alcohol could divert his attention from the relentless hunger and thirst.

"We are left with no choice," Seonghwa's lament was tinged with resignation. "Perhaps you should choose that woman, if you can stomach it."

Inclining his head in the direction indicated by Seonghwa, Hongjoong locked eyes with a sexy woman. "Seriously?" he scoffed incredulously. Her blood, he discovered upon smelling it, was anything but enticing. "She appears quite taken with you. Her gaze remains fixed upon you."

"Get off." Hongjoong averted his gaze, eschewing further eye contact. "She's coming." Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa, who emitted a chuckle. "Hey, boy." The woman propped herself against the bar counter, making an overt display of her alluring figure. "Care to join me for a drink?" "Nope, never, thanks.."

"Oh, come on~ It's gonna be so much fun~" With a firm grip on Hongjoong's arm, the woman insisted. "I've said! Just let me go or I'll─" Seonghwa promptly intervened, preventing any potential loss of control by silencing Hongjoong with his hand. "Sorry, he's drunk." Seonghwa offered an apologetic smile, and the woman retreated in a huff.

"What are you doing?! I could have killed her." "Calm down, Hongjoong. Do you wish to be exposed?" "Tsk…No matter how many hunters emerge, I can kill them all." Indeed, there were hunters within the city skilled in tracking down vampires. They must be careful not to overuse their powers lest they be discovered.

"I am not ready to meet my demise just yet." Seonghwa remarked, taking a sip of his beverage. "Shall we leave? This place has grown boring." "Indeed." As they set down their wine glasses, a seductive aroma wafted through the air, enveloping them like a scorching wave.

"Hey, Y/N~You finally~here~" "Wh─why are you drinking that much?!" You came to the aid of your friend, the sexy woman, as she stumbled. "I'm not~drunk~"she slurred. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Today marked the fourth time this week that you had been called to help her.

"Goodness, just go back and don't drink anymore." "No!I have to drink with those two handsome guys~" Turning your head in the direction she indicated, you were met with Seonghwa and Hongjoong's intense gaze. Oh your friend was right, they were the most handsome men you have ever seen.

'Oh shit…did she do something bad to them? Fuck!' You sighed, wishing you could just leave your friend and escape. However, there was no choice but to settle her on the couch and offer them an apology.

"Hmm, hello?" The more you gazed on them, the closer they came to the brink of losing control. Your blood was incredibly alluring, and the delightful flavor enticed them to sink their teeth into your neck. However, they tried their best to resist the temptation. "I am her friend and have come to apologize if she has done anything to upset you…"

"Oh yes, she did something that angered us." Hongjoong said, putting his hands in his trouser pockets, feigning dissatisfaction. "Well, she sexually harassed us."

'What the fuck…' You murmured under your breath. "Um…what can I do to make it up to you? I know just saying sorry is─""Actually, we wanted to just forget about it, but if you want to make it up to us, we are open to that," Seonghwa added.

"I am Seonghwa and he is Hongjoong." You nodded.

"What's your name, lady?"

"Y/N." "Good."

"So, what do you want me to do?" You asked, feeling nervous.

"Let me ask you a question first, Y/N." Seonghwa approached you to meet your gaze at eye level. "Are you open minded?"

—------

You found yourself in a kneeling position on the luxurious sofa, with a silk blindfold covering your eyes. This room was the furthest from the bustling bar, where the distant music and muffled breathing only serve to heighten your sense of unease, causing your heart to quicken its pace.

"Raise up your hand, honey,"Seonghwa's command was followed by a firm grab on the hem of your T-shirt, prompting you to comply with his request to undress. As he couldn't help but express his admiration for your beauty, you whined at shyness.

"Who do you want in the back?" Hongjoong's whispered question against your neck was followed by a trail of kisses. "It doesn't matter…" As you naturally tilted your head to allow him to give you a wet kiss, the excitement grew. "Good, babe. I would be at the front." Hongjoong positioned you against Seonghwa's naked chest after he moved to your back, the sudden touch of skin sending a shiver down your spine.

"Honey, do you know what blood play is?" "Blood play?" "Yah, some kind of knife play. It's a little bit painful but you will love it." Seonghwa whispered softly against your temple, his warm breath caressing your skin. "Just like so." His fingers glided down to your forearm, delicately grazing it with his sharp nail, causing a small trickle of blood to emerge.

You couldn't help but let out a sharp intake of breath at the sensation, the mixture of pain and pleasure sending shivers down your spine. It was as if you thrived on the intensity of conflicting emotions washing over you in that moment.

"It's blood…" His left hand brushed your arm, wiping off the red blood on the surface, leaving shallow blood marks. Their eyes were flashing red light, tinged with hunger and thirst.

"Get ready?" Hongjoong asked as his hand sneaked to your panties. "Yes, please." Seonghwa lifted your ass up to literally rip off your panties, guiding his cock towards your soaked hole. "Take a seat, babe." With a firm grab on your shoulder and waist, you followed his lead to sink down on his arched cock.

"Oh fuck…" "It's big, isn't it?" You wrapped around Hongjoong's shoulder as a support and started to bounce slowly. Adjusting his size was harder than your imagination, you could feel every vein of his cock each time you sank down. "Our baby is doing well," Hongjoong's words made your head spin in pleasure, and you moved faster.

"Gosh, you're amazing." Seonghwa pushed forward to make his tip meet your soft flesh, making your body bounce up and down from his movement. "Hwa…" "Don't forget about me, babe." Hongjoong cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours. He appeared to lavish all of his affection into the kiss, caressing and nibbling on your lips. He drew you nearer, prolonging the intense and romantic kiss, drawing out the sweetness from your mouth, gently teasing your tongue.

Yet, everything changed when this lovemaking became intense.

Without a warning, Seonghwa sank his teeth into your neck, causing crimson liquid to trickle down, prompting you to bite down on your lip in a valiant effort to withstand the agony. Your fists clenched tightly, imprinting deep crescent shapes into your palms.

"Shit…hwa…" "Relax." Seonghwa attempted to divert your attention by fucking you harder. His movement was no mercy. He positioned you to lean forward to allow him to pump into you with a new angle. His hardened tip collided with your soft flesh crazily, producing a loud skin slapping sound and making you moan without care.

"Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!" The bright red blood flows down your shoulders to your chest, a sight both terrifying and mesmerizing. "Let me taste you." Hongjoong shifted his attention to your bosom, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance he craved. He immersed himself in your curves, indulging in nibbles and kisses that produced lewd saliva noises.

The symphony of moans and screams intertwined as the excruciating sensation of the bite became increasingly unbearable. A foreboding sense of dread envelops your heart, as if you were the coveted feast they had been anticipating for so long. The concept of blood play was merely a facade for their insatiable hunger.

You had to leave, but how?

"I…I'm gonna cum,hwa." "But I'm not yet, what should we do then?" You wanted to escape but they grabbed you tightly. How could you fight back these two men?

"Babe, there is something you have never tried. You'll like it." "No, please." "There is no way to go back."

Hongjoong delicately lifted your bra, his lips caressing your breasts as his tongue danced around your nipples, leaving a glistening trail of desire. With a hunger that knew no bounds, he claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands explored the softness of your thighs, each caress sending shivers down your spine and quickening your pulse.

"Please, no more." You whispered between the kisses but were ignored as if they were totally lost in this love making.

"I heard…the sound of blood flowing…" He parted from your lips and trailed down, searching for something he desired for so long. Suddenly, with a fierce intensity, he tore open your chest, causing you to cry out in agony as your life force drained away.

"SHIT!!"

Hongjoong eagerly drank from your blood, and crimson liquid droplets trickled from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his throat as he continuously swallowed. Seonghwa let out a deep growl as he saw how Hongjoong sucked your delicious blood.

"Damn!" Seonghwa indulged in sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving behind a trail of deep, passionate bites and kisses, adorning your skin with an array of purple marks. "It hurts, please stop!" Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. No amount of tears will bring you salvation.

"So sweet! It's the taste of this blood! The blood I've been looking for!" Hongjoong found himself drawn closer to you, his gaze locked on the tantalizing blood pulsing in your veins. The crimson liquid flowed freely from the wound, leaving a mark on both your skin and his lips.

"Gotta mark you and you would be our own pet." "What…?" Hongjoong pushed you back, making you and Seonghwa lay back to the sofa. Guiding his cock to rub against your clit, he thrusted in your cunt without a second thought.

"Fuck!!" You arched your back as the new sensation became almost overwhelming. Their manhoods were divided by the thin wall of your lower body, allowing them to sense each other's movements with every powerful thrust. "This is truly remarkable," Hongjoong murmured as he skillfully moved his hips, ensuring that he reached the most sensitive parts of your body, bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

Hongjoong fucked you at an inhuman pace as if he never tired. On the other hand, Seonghwa maintained a rhythmic thrust, feeling how your tight ass sucked him in. The warmth of your walls drove Hongjoong crazy. He could feel the heat concentrated at the tip, hitting your sweet spot, and a numbing sensation made him moan softly.

You tried to push him away but you couldn't. The rapid depletion of blood was swifter than anticipated, leading to a gradual decrease in body temperature, a foggy state of consciousness, akin to a delicate mist, and a weightiness settling upon your eyelids. Your limbs grew increasingly weak, and you could only slump onto Seonghwa, like a puppet manipulated by them.

"Need to cum, now." Hongjoong huffed, panting heavily as his thrust became slippery. "Me too." Seonghwa chimed in. And you moaned weakly as you were almost unconscious.

What you could remember before the darkness enveloped you was the warm liquid soaked your cunt and hole, and there was something hot on your nape.

It hurts.

—----

You awaken from your slumber, feeling disoriented. "What is happening…?" Struggling to sit up, you realized your limbs are restrained by metal cuffs. "This can't be real…"

"Are you awake?" A chilling voice echoed nearby, making you tremble. "Don't be afraid, dear. Everything is fine." As footsteps drew nearer, a slender figure emerged. Seonghwa's eyes gleam red, fixated on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Release me." Fear grips you as you attempt to retreat, only to be met by the unyielding cold wall behind you. "No, my dear. You belong to us now." Another voice, belonging to Hongjoong, rang in your ears. "You are ours, and you shall not escape." Before you could protest, he knelt beside you and sunk his teeth into your neck, eliciting cries of agony.

"Easy, Hongjoong. Be careful not to kill her." Seonghwa took your hand and bit your waist with a great force. "Dear, you're so sweet. I really like you." As he licked your wounds, a mix of numbness and pain overwhelmed you, stealing away your consciousness. Helpless, you could only gaze blankly at the ceiling as they had their way with you.

"So good, such a lovely pet."

[viennakarma]

New Year, New Us

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After you and Max broke up, you've never been on the same place at the same time again. That is, until the New Year's Eve party.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, ex!reader, a little possessive reader, spanking, cursing (but in a cool way), a bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Note: not me looking for a GIF that he's not wearing the team kit (there is none). This has been on my docs for a little while. English is not my first language (so please bear any mistake). If you’re my best friend, sophia, look away :)

Find me on Twitter!

“Are you sure he won’t be there?”, you text Alex, your best friend.

While waiting for her answer, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your makeup, basic due to lack of time, but beautiful nonetheless and the red lipstick gives the whole look a boost. On your body, you wear a set of a mini skirt, and a kind of strapless corset that holds your breasts firmly, giving your look an extra spice. When you went shopping with Alex the day before, she had confirmed that it suited the casual New Year's Eve party the group of friends throws every year.

“Charles confirmed that Max is not in town.” is the response you get from Alex as you wait for the Uber.

It would be really embarrassing if Max was there, because he's the ex you don't want to see under any circumstances. Your separation was difficult, and it almost caused a split in the entire group of friends. Luckily, Max went away for the Formula 1 season, and it wasn't necessary for his friends to choose a side, as he was the one who physically distanced himself from everyone.

Despite everything, he still meets up with friends from the group the few times he's in Monaco in between races, and these outings are the ones you refrain from going to so as not to cross paths with him.

Even though your relationship has collapsed like a house of cards, you and him do your best not to take anything out on your group of friends, you don't talk bad about each other nor impose any “either him or me” choices.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you realize that the “New Year's Eve party with friends” has probably taken on greater proportions. That's what happens when the majority of the group is made up of famous extroverts who make friends so easily. Charles had guaranteed that there would be 30 people at most, but when you enter his apartment, it seems to be at least triple that number.

You look for Alex and your closest group and find them near the small bar, getting drinks. Alex waves as soon as she sees you walking towards them.

She hands you a martini as soon as you catch up to her. Alex hugs you, complimenting your makeup, and you turn to Charles, hugging him, as well as all your other friends. You all toasted together, laughing.

Alex pulls you onto the dance floor, and you both laugh as a Rihanna song comes on. Both of you dance for several minutes until you feel a bit of sweat form on your forehead.

“Shit,” Alex murmurs, immediately stopping dancing. She looks over your shoulder at something behind you.

As soon as you look back, you see Max entering the party carrying a big box of some alcoholic beverage. It's impossible to go unnoticed when he's one of the most famous there. You watch as he smiles when he sees Charles in the crowd, as soon as the two meet, they exchange a friendly hug.

“Sorry, babe. Charles had indeed confirmed that he would not arrive from his trip in time for the party,” Alex justifies herself, but you keep looking in Max's direction. He's talking to Charles when, suddenly, he turns and looks in his direction. His blue eyes bore into yours and you swallow hard. You calculate an escape route for a few seconds, but he looks away and goes back to chatting calmly with Charles.

Alex pulls you away, but you keep looking in Max's direction until she shoves you into another room, which you recognize as the kitchen.

“We can leave if you want, we can find a nightclub or something,” Alex says, capturing your attention again.

“Alex, I'm not going to keep you away from your boyfriend on New Year's Eve just because I can't stand my ex,” You shake your head no. “Besides, if he's so comfortable, I'm not the one who's going to act like I’m not over him.”

“Oh, wow! Girl power, damn it!” Alex yells, opening a cooler on the counter. She pulls out two beers and hands one to you. With a bite of the cap, you quickly open it and after toasting your bottles, you take a giant sip that refreshes you from the heat and makes you more determined.

“That's more like it, now let's get back to the dance floor!” You confirm, with a nod after downing the entire bottle at once. Alex does the same and grabs two more bottles for you and her.

Together, you both return to the dance floor, you and Alex dancing and jumping, screaming the songs at the top of your lungs, as if there was no one else around. When Beyoncé's 6 Inch starts, you two start to dance sensually and sing along. With the song halfway through, you open your eyes feeling other people watching you and notice that they have opened a small circle around the two of you.

The attention only seems to make both Alex and you even more excited. Unintentionally, your eyes meet Max's, and you notice that he, Charles, and practically the rest of the party have their eyes on both of you. You grab Alex's shoulders and pull her close until one of your legs is between hers and one of hers is between yours, her hand goes to your waist, and she smiles as she guides her hips into yours and you both roll your hips.

“I know what you're doing…” Alex whispers in your ear. “He's going to regret ever breaking up with you!” She adds in a conspiratorial tone that makes you laugh

You mumble the lyrics to her and Alex pulls your hand, making you spin so that you stop with your back on her chest, placing you facing Max. You don't find any trace of shame in yourself, maybe whether it's the alcohol and the music, or maybe it's all these people staring at you and Alex with so much lust.

You look into Max's eyes as you dance with Alex's hand running down the side of your hip. His eyes are focused on you as he holds a cup of some drink. At some point, his hand exerts so much force on the cup that the plastic bends, spilling a bunch of drink onto his shirt.

You can't help but laugh when he looks down and mutters a swear word. He turns around and leaves. You continue dancing with Alex for a few more minutes until your feet feel sore and you’re very thirsty. When you sit at your friends' table, Charles serves you fresh cold juice. Max appears soon after, now with his shirt changed.

He sits at the same table as you, of course, because he is part of the group. Max sits on the opposite side of it, facing you. You look away from him when you realize your friends are talking and you decide to join the conversation.

“What happened?” Alex asks when she sees you readjusting the threads on your heels for the third time.

“My heels are killing me” you explain.

“I can lend you a pair of shoes. Do you want it?” Alex offers and you nod, “My stuff is in the guest suite on the first floor, where Charles always keeps our bags. You can take it if you want.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You get up, crossing the crowd of people drinking, dancing and talking, to get to the stairs. As soon as you go up and reach the first floor, you take off your shoes and walk barefoot to the guest room, feeling relief in the bottom of your feet.

You find Alex’s bag on a dresser, and you rummage through it until you find a pair of white Jordans. You go into the bathroom and wash your face carefully so as not to mess up your makeup, and wet your neck to relieve the heat. After drying off, you go back to the dresser and you’re about to put on the shoes when the door opens and someone turns on the light.

You look up to see Max coming towards you with decisive steps, looking like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur when he stops in front of you and his height forces you to lift your head to look into his eyes.

“You know what you do to me,” He whispers, his hand touches your face firmly, his hand holding your jaw and part of your neck “You know what I want.”

As soon as he says that, your body betrays you and you feel a wave of goosebumps running up your arms. Still, even with the clear expression of desire on Max's face, he doesn't move forward, just waits for your reaction.

You would be lying if you didn't admit to yourself that you miss him. Almost everyday, you miss the domesticity of your relationship, you miss his eyes looking for yours across any room or being the first thing you see as you wake up, you miss his touch both when it’s rough or when it’s exploratory like he wanted his fingertips to memorize you, his nimble hands and his cock stretching you.

You stand on your tiptoes to close the distance, and it's still not enough to reach him, so you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him down until your lips meet. He kisses you tentatively for a few seconds, and then his arm wraps around your waist and he lifts you off the ground, pressing you against his body while opening his lips to yours to deepen the kiss. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a moan that he captures with his mouth.

Your fingers move up from his shoulder to the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard, thinking it should always be like this. That you both belong in each other's arms.

Then you remember he was the one who ended it. He was the one who dumped you right after going on the new season of Formula 1. Probably to be free to fuck some groupie or something.

You move until he puts you back on the ground, and as soon as you find your balance, you push him so hard that he stumbles back two steps, surprised by your sudden refusal.

The both of you are panting as you sit on the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair as you try to find your sanity again.

“You did this to us” you manage to say through heavy breathing, “You broke up with me to go on new adventures, and you still have the audacity to talk about me as if I had broken your heart”

“Love…” He starts, the pet name probably a slip out of habit, but that makes you even more furious.

“Don’t fucking ‘love’ me!” you point an accusatory finger in his direction.

Max stands like a statue, panting and his lips are red and a little stained with your lipstick, and his chest is rising and falling. You stare at him not knowing what to do now. Then you look at his face, his eyes closed as if he was trying hard to think, his hair even more messy because of your hands seconds ago. Max takes a deep breath, then he takes a step towards you, and kneels right in front of you.

“I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I should never have done that, I love you and I miss you every fucking day,” He looks up at you, his blue eyes shining in surrender, in a way that leaves you weak. “I'll do anything to win you back,” He says, placing both hands gently on your knees. Max looks at you intently as he gently runs his hand down your leg, until he closes his hand around your ankle. He slowly lifts your leg, as if expecting a negative reaction, and then leaves a kiss on your calf without taking his eyes off you. “Please- I- let me win you back- I’ll do anything you want- Let me be good to you…”

The sigh that leaves your lips is almost involuntary when he kisses a little higher on your calf, and then another one above your knee, followed by a soft bite. You almost let yourself get carried away by the effect of his mouth on you, but then you remember to regain control of the situation.

“With how many people did you have sex with after me?” you ask, and he immediately stops moving to look at you.

“None.” He answers, and you bend forward to hold the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head with a groan.

“Don't lie to me, it's been eight months, Max. Are you going to tell me you haven’t had sex with anyone?” you ask through gritted teeth, without letting go of his hair. He stares at you firmly when he answers again.

“No one.”

“You swear?” you ask, finally loosening your grip on his hair.

“I swear,” He kisses and nibbles your legs again, as if he doesn't want to leave any part of you untasted. “I- I just- fucked my hand thinking about you.” He whispers against your thigh and you almost don't hear him, he says it so quietly.

He continues moving up, and you gasp as he kisses the space at your waist between the base of your corset and the waistband of your skirt. Each touch seems to send a jolt of pleasure straight into your core, and you do your best not to give in too quickly. You hold Max's face and make him look at you again.

“You have half an hour. Better fuck me hard” you command, and he swallows hard, nodding his head.

You finally let yourself fall back onto the bed as he kisses your body again. He tries to lift the corset, but the fabric is too tight. Then Max pulls the corset down in one motion, just enough to release your breasts from above. As soon as your tits spill out, Max grabs them like he's starving.

You can no longer contain your moans when his hands hold your hips, trying to reach under your skirt and his mouth alternates between licking from the base of your breasts to the tip of your nipples, and taking in as much as he can put in his mouth to suck at once. And you know with how hard he's doing it, you're going to have hickey marks all over tomorrow.

“How does this come out?” He asks, looking like he’s having difficulties with the corset.

“From behind.”

Max leaves your breasts to kiss your neck for a moment and you feel one of his hands reaching between your back and the mattress to try to open it. With an irritated growl, he palms your back. You squeal when, with a quick movement, he pulls your back, rolling you around and turning you face down on the bed. He makes a sound of approval when he finally undoes the corset, takes it off you, and tosses it away. He pulls the zipper on the back of your skirt, but it catches halfway, so he pulls hard and you hear the ripping sound until you feel the fabric loosen on your skin. With a sound of disapproval, you're about to curse Max’s entire lineage, when he cuts you off:

“I'll buy you another one. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He gasps and soon you feel his hands touching your back and going down until they palm each side of your ass. He squeezes hard and you groan against the mattress, probably making a mess on the bedsheets with your lipstick. “I missed this,” He says, and then he gives your ass a slap that leaves you weak, then another slap on the other side, which makes your pussy throb. He gently massages where he hit on your asscheeks.

“Are you going to stand there admiring or are you going to ‘win me back’?” you say in a sarcastic voice when you look over your shoulder and Max is kneeling between your legs, staring at your ass like it's the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World.

“You're very bossy, you know that?” He says with a soft smile. He pulls your panties down to your knees.

“And you are complaining too much for someone who is on probation,” you keep looking over your shoulder and see how he takes his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking on them to moisten.

“Probation, eh?” He says, getting closer to you.

“Yeah, or do you think you can get back this easily into my life?” You scoff.

You stop looking when his hand disappears between your legs, and you feel his touch gently on your pussy. You grip the sheet expectantly, as he presses your clit and you moan against the sheets again. When his fingers penetrate you, you start to move your hips, following the friction of his long fingers.

Max knows your body like no one else, the bastard, and you feel embarrassingly close to orgasm in just a few minutes of stimulation. You hear the indecent noise of how wet your pussy makes his fingers every time he moves them in and out, massaging your G-spot with infuriating precision. When your pussy clenches against his fingers, you try to do something, anything, to delay the orgasm.

Without stopping his movements, Max bends over you, kissing the back of your neck, then he approaches your ear and whispers:

“I’ve got you, pretty baby”

You want to curse him for the power of this pet name in your ear but your mind simply explodes into a thousand fireworks when you finally come, still leaning over feeling Max's lips on the back of your neck. He keeps his fingers in you for a few seconds as you try to recover from the orgasm.

When Max moves away and you feel his weight leave the bed, you roll over so your back is to the mattress so you can see him. He gets rid of his clothes very quickly, and your mouth is practically watering seeing him completely naked.

“Are you sure?” Max asks, fisting his member before going back to bed.

“So sure, baby” you say, with one finger raised, you make a “come here” gesture. He starts to climb onto the bed, “And as I’m feeling merciful today, I will ride you just the way you love” As soon as Max is hovering over you, you push him until he falls back onto the bed, rolling over him and getting on top.

Moving your hair out of the way, you crawl down until you’re between his legs, holding the base of his perfect cock. You lick him from bottom to top, from his balls to his cockhead and his hips jerk with the contact.

“Love, please” He interrupts you, grabbing your face and pulling you on top of him. “If you blow me, I'll cross the finish line too soon.”

“Now, this is the first time this is a problem for you,” you tease him, letting a bead of saliva drop onto his cock which makes his little giggle turn into a groan.

“Baby, please, I need to be buried into you”

With a laugh, you do as he asks, and sit on his lap, pressing his length between the two of us and sliding your pussy over him, your wetness indecent.

“You're trying to kill me, woman,” He says in a tense voice. You watch the head of his cock disappear between your lower lips as you grind against him and more groans leave his throat.

You lift your hips enough to hold his cock and position it at your entrance. From top to bottom, you slide his length inside you slowly, and it takes some time for you to be able to fit him inside you completely. His girth is something above average, and the eight months since your breakup that you've been in a drought require you a minute to readapt to his size.

You let out a moan when you finally bring your hips together and feel overwhelmed by his size. You place both hands on Max's chest for balance and dig your nails into his pale skin. You lift your hips just a few inches and sit back down, the friction making you both moan so loudly that for a moment you worry you might be heard. Then you remember that the party is in full swing downstairs, and the music is loud enough that you don't need to worry.

Max's two hands hold your ass and you start to move with more rhythm, going very high before coming back down with everything, pushing his cock inside you. His lips are parted and you bend down to kiss his chin and neck.

“You are mine,” Something possessive inside you makes you say that. Max looks at you completely surrendered. “Do you understand?” He nods. You leave a hickey on his shoulder that makes him contract deliciously inside you and mark him as yours. You increase the speed of the rise and fall of your hips, your moans matching his.

Max gives up his control fully and just lets you ride him the way you want, his moans getting louder and louder by the second. He stretches you so well that your toes curl, and Max presses his hand on your lower belly, the pressure makes you feel something completely different as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Your knees weaken and Max takes the opportunity to reverse your positions again, placing you on your back on the bed as if he were impatient. Without disconnecting your bodies, he reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips to lift you a bit in the new position. He put your thighs over his where he is kneeling between your legs. Max pushes into you slowly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your head drops back when he goes all the way in, his hips meeting yours until there is no space in between.

“Max! Oh fuck- oh-” you practically scream, pinching your own nipples to find some relief, “Oh my God!

In the new position he presses deep into your G-spot and you know you won't last much longer. His hands hold your hips even tighter and he lifts practically half of your body off the bed to thrust into you hard enough to make your head bounce on the bed.

There's nothing you can do but surrender to the pleasure that's building inside you with the way Max manipulates your body, holding onto his forearms for dear life, probably leaving some nail marks behind.

Max puts you back on the pillow, one hand he flattens on your stomach to keep you in place, and the other he presses his thumb to your clit. From then on, it's a lost cause. It's a matter of minutes before the orgasm that has been building for the second time erupts.

Your brain blackouts for a second as he pushes you off the cliff, and your hip shakes so hard that you thank God you're underneath, otherwise you would have fallen. Your pussy spasms also make Max cum soon after. Panting, he pulls out and falls on top of you, his head against your chest.

You lay like that trying to catch your breath for long minutes without saying anything, one of Max's hands running up and down your side and your fingers playing with his hair.

You still haven't said anything when you get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. When you’re putting on your panties, you remember Max destroyed your miniskirt. You gather the fabric from the floor and fold it.

“I'm sorry about the skirt,” Max finally breaks the silence, giving you the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier. As soon as you put your arms through the sleeve, Max fastens the buttons for you. you end up wearing the bustier over the shirt, like these it girls do and the final look isn't so bad. Max puts on another outfit and looks for a new shirt in a backpack that you know belongs to one of your friends.

When you’re both dressed, you leave the room still unsure of what to say. Max holds your hand, stopping you from walking any further.

“How are we now? Will you give you another chance?” he asks, sounding anxious. You realize you haven't given him a complete answer yet, which is why he seems uncertain like this. You rise on tiptoe, and bring your lips closer, holding his neck.

“I said you're mine, didn't I?” you whisper against his lips. You leave a quick peck on his lips and pull away.

But this time he doesn't let go of your hand, he just keeps holding on, tightly as you walk down the stairs back to the party, just in time for the countdown to New Year's Eve.

When you arrive at your friends' table, they start shouting and applauding when they see that you are holding hands.

“You guys are back together?” Alex asks, hugging Charles, over the voices of people counting down from 20.

“Max is on probation, if he behaves, we'll get back together,” you say with a playful tone and everyone laughs.

Max wraps his arms around your waist and you two join the countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2… 1!

“Happy New Year, Max!” you shout, over the voices of everyone celebrating the new year. He holds your face with both hands and looks at you as if you were his entire world, his blue eyes shining with deep feeling.

“I love you,” He whispers in your ear, before pulling you to sit on his lap and placing a kiss on your lips. He clings to you like he is afraid if he let you go, you will leave again.

"I love you too, pretty baby," you whispered back, laughing as his face went red.

[dinsverdika]

Thinking about 5'3!Logan borrowing one of Wade's shirts as a substitute for pyjamas after he had moved in with him as he had no other clothes yet.

Logan came out of Wade's room after having rummage through his closet. The shirt he had chosen to wear was definitely too long for him, as were all of Wade's shirts. It reached to the middle of his thighs, it'll have to do for the night.

He felt a pair of eyes burning holes into him as he entered the kitchen.

He turned his gaze to meet Wade's heart-eyed one.

"Looking good, Wolvie," said Wade, pretending to curl his finger around a non-existent lock of hair.

"Shut up," grumbled Logan. He opened the fridge, hoping to find a beer.

Wade ignored him. "You know, there's enough room for two in my bed," he said, "the couch isn't that comfortable and I wouldn't mind having a hot shorty like you in my-"

"Utter one more word and I'll stab you," rasped out Logan, unsheating his claws to drive his threat home.

Wade threw his hands up in faux surrender. "Alright, Wolvie. The invitation is still here if you chose to change your mind, though."

Logan quickly found the beer he was looking for and closed the fridge. He exited the kitchen and made his way into the the living room, grumbling to himself how bad of an idea it was to have had accepted Wade's offer to move in with him.

He sat onto the couch. The poor piece of furniture creaked loudly, threatening to give in under his heavy weight. Logan exhaled through his nose, ignoring how uncomfortable the couch indeed was. He opened his beer and took a big sip, enjoying the cold beverage. Mary Poppins was quick to join him. Logan indulged her with a few scratches behind one of her ears.

He turned on the TV and settled for whatever show was on, not paying much attention to what was actually going on. He took another sip of his beer, Wade's invition to share a bed still scratching the back of his mind. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red as several images of he and Wade sharing a bed popped up into his mind. He shook his head, clearing his mind.

No.

Logan decided that he will be going out tomorrow and actually buying new clothes for himself. As he took a third sip of his beverage, Logan thought of Wade inviting himself to his errands; barging into the changing room and talking on and on and on and on about his bad fashion choices.

He'll definitely be sneaking his way out.

[maylovesfiction]

Short scene that lived in my head for weeks. In my head Buggy is so oblivious to flirting.

----------

Buggy sat at the bar, looking at his empty rum mug. He was contemplating if getting another one was really worth it. This was all his wife's fault! It was her idea to come to this place because the food was said to be good. Who cares about the food?! The alcohol has to be cheap and good. Buggy had to admit that the rum was indeed good, but the price was absolutely ridiculous. "Hey handsome, what are you doing here all alone?" Buggy barely noticed the voice talking. Remembering his wife's smile when she had happily dug into her food he knew it was worth coming here, but still... if only he could have a little more rum without it blowing a hole in his wallet. 

A tap on his shoulder made him jump and turn around to face the assailant. It was just a woman. A woman with bright blue eyes and long wavy brown hair in a black and red dress. She smiled at him and repeated her initial question "What is a handsome man like you doing here?" Buggy blinked, this woman must be out of her mind. The pirate's mood shifted from surprised to annoyed. His eyes wandered to his empty mug "What does it look like?!" he answered sharply "I was drinking, but have you seen the prices here? They are absolutely ridiculous! Twohundred and fifty berry just for one mug of rum, ONE tiny mug! This is outrageous!" The woman just smiled at his rant and sat down on the stool next to him. "So which rum is your favorite?" , she asked. Buggy just pointed at a barrel behind the barkeeper "That one." - "I see, that's a good choice. So what are you doing here in this town?" Buggy stayed silent for a moment, trying to calm himself. His wife wouldn't like him starting a commotion even though he would really much like to throw his empty mug at the bartender. Speaking of his wife he turned in his seat looking back at their shared table before answering the woman. "My crew and I are docking here for supplies." His wife hadn't returned. Buggy didn't get the need to 'freshen up' in the bathroom, but it was his wife, he wasn't going to argue about this.

"Oh so you're a sailor then", the woman's eyes lit up, as she slowly started to scoot a little closer to him. Buggy noticed her attempts to be closer to him, but didn't know what she was trying to achieve. Then a thought crossed his mind, she was clearly trying to get close to him to steal his hard earned stolen money out of his pockets! His hand reached slowly for the bag of coins in his pocket, checking if it was still there. "I'm not a normal sailor! I'm a pirate! In fact I'm the flashiest pirate captain that you will find around here!" Buggy lectured her, breathing a sigh of relief as his hand touched his coin pouch.

Her eyes grew wide. Oh snap! Now he basically told her that he had money. Buggy mentally slapped himself. The woman motioned for the barkeeper. Buggy didn't even notice her ordering a mug of rum for him because he was so deep in his thoughts, trying to think of a way to make himself appear as a bad target for thievery. The barkeeper setting the rum in front of him startled him. Buggy looked puzzled at the beverage, then to the woman. "My treat! It's not every day you meet a strong and handsome pirate captain!" the woman batted her eyelashes at him. There it was again, she called him handsome again, clearly a ploy to make him lower his guard! But Buggy was smart, he saw right through her! Her compliments would not make him fall for her little tricks!

Buggy just nodded at her and took a sip of his rum, humming in delight as the drink slid down his throat. "So, what's your name?", she asked him. "I'm the great and flashy Buggy the Clown!" he responded eagerly. She looked at him as if she waited for him to do or say something. When it didn't come she looked a bit confused. Buggy had his body still turned towards the bar and gave her a side eye "What?!" The woman quickly composed herself again, "Oh, it's nothing. I'm sorry for staring, you have such beautiful hair, Buggy." She reached for locks of his blue hair falling down his back kept in a high ponytail. The pirate tried to evade her touch, scooting away from her hand. He was unsuccessful as the woman had already gotten ahold of a few strands of hair, slowly rubbing them between her fingers. She then put her hand down onto his thigh. "Buggy, you are just my type and I’m getting really hot. Why don't we take this conversation somewhere else?" she asked suggestively. Buggy's head was spinning, not even listening to what was said, this was a clear attempt on the money in the pocket of his pants just above her hand. He was not letting her have it. A small giggle that he would recognize everywhere snapped him out of it and his head spun around to see his wife had returned to their table, watching him and chuckling at the scene. Buggy briskly stood up, still having his hand wrapped around his mug of rum "It was... nice. I'll need to get back to my wife" he stumbled over the words as he quickly walked back to their table. The woman watched him leave gobsmacked.

When Buggy returned to the table he interrogated his wife "Why did you take so long? I was thinking about coming in and dragging you out of there! What did you even do in there!? I almost got assaulted! Why are you laughing!?" He usually loved when his wife was laughing but this time he had the feeling it was at his expense. "What do you think happened there, my love?" she asked him, trying to contain her laughter. "What do you mean 'what happened there'?! Didn't you see?! It was clear as day! That woman tried to rob me! She was giving me compliments and bought me a drink so I'd let my guard down! Then she was reaching for my coins, but she wasn't as sneaky as she thought, because I totally caught her in the act!" His wife laughed so hard that she couldn't breathe, Buggy just watched her in bewilderment. "Buggy! She was hitting on you", she breathed out between laughs. "WHAT?!"

After she calmed herself again she asked "Did you remember how jealous you got when that tall man in a suit hit on me last month in that tavern with the deer head on the front door?" Buggy had crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly annoyed, and nodded. "So what exactly did he do, that made you jealous?" The blue haired pirate thought for a moment then started to answer "Well, he told you you were the most beautiful woman and then he tried to buy you- ohhhh" Buggy's eyes widened as the realisation hit him. Then his lips turned into a smirk "Well... I just got hit on! That's no surprise to be honest, because everyone knows the flashiest pirate in the east blue is quite the catch! I don't know how you can top this. You'll have to try really hard to win me over. I have options, you know?" he teased his wife. She laughed again, then replied "How about you finish your drink and then we go back to the ship and I..." she leaned over and whispered in his ear. His eyes grew wide and an almost devious smile crossed his face. Buggy had never downed a rum that fast in his life before.

[todayontumblr]

Thursday, July 27.

it's thursday. so here's some comics.

On the house!

Well, it's as good a start to the day as any. We happen to like #comics. They're an easy thing to like, after all. Always cute, often colorful, and sometimes monochrome, they are a deceptively simple medium for exploring funny, thoughtful, irreverent topics and difficult questions. Difficult, but important—and indeed profound themes and experiences. Whether childhood reflections, irrational fears, navigating depression, cute imaginings, sitcomesque situations, or even the inevitable journey of grief, comics make for the perfect place to navigate whatever subject strikes the artist's fancy. What they then express with this medium, and how they express, becomes a tantalizing proposition. They may well be easily consumed—bite-sized, if you will—but they provide a lot to chew over.

So we graciously curated a collection here in this ol' digi-mail for you this most Thursdayish of Thursday mornings—perfect to consume with a hot beverage (or not) of your choice. 

[blueesnow]

(3/6) Hijirikawa Masato's Private Story [Utapri Live Emotion]

Ch 1: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 6 with Masato)

-Shining Agency Dorm's Living Room- Masato: Oh, Nanami. What a coincidence. Are you on your day off today? Haruka: Yeah, I came here to return the materials that I borrowed before. Are you also on your day off too, Hijirikawa-san? Masato: Yeah. Since the wheather looks nice I thought I'd go outside today. I'm thinking of going to those events at the park. Masato: If you're okay with it, do you want to go with me? I've heard there were also markets and music events too. Haruka: Wow…that looks so fun! I want to go. Masato: Thank you. I've had a feeling you would say that. Well then, let's head out. -Park- Masato: Paintings and lacquerware, clothing and accessories…there were also food and beverage stall too. It seems like there's a lot of stalls being set up here. Haruka: There also seems to be a lot of handmade stalls too. Oh, look at that! There are a lot of cute accesories lined up. Masato: Oh, I think it might be a good idea as a gift for my little sister. If you don't mind can you tell me which one are you interested in? (choices) <How about cookies?> Haruka: Hmm… how about icing cookies? Not only does it look pretty, but it also looks delicious too. Masato: Indeed, these cookies were made with so much attention on the details. Look, there's even a pattern on the edge of it. Masato: Look at how delicate it is. As if it was painted with a paintbrush. How beautiful… <Accessory might be a good idea> Haruka: Beaded accessories are beautiful in my opinion! Look, something like this. It's cute isn't it. Masato: Accessory, huh. Certainly these color seems to be her favorite. Masato: I'm not that knowledgeable about fashion, so your opinion might helped. (back to story) Masato: However all of them are so fascinating, I'm troubled which one to choose… Haruka: Why don't we take a look around a bit more while we're here. Oh, how about that stall over there? Masato: Hm, that's…!

Ch 2: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 11 with Masato)

-Park- Haruka: It's an amigurumi*, aren't they all cute? Masato: They look very well made. There's the rabbit one, a bear… Oh, they also have an owl too. Masato: Alright I've decided, let's go for an amigurumi for her next present. I think it might be a good idea if I could also make a hat or other accessories that goes along well with it. Haruka: Wow, that's so lovely! I'm sure your little sister will be very happy. Masato: It's all thanks to you for finding it for me. I'm very grateful. Haruka: Oh no, I didn't do much… Eh, a cheering sound? You can also hear the sound of instruments too! Masato: Looks like they're holding a concert on that special stage next door. Let's go and check it out. - Masato: Oh they're actually a band consisting of students from a nearby school. It seems they're also selling CDs of their original songs too. Masato: Although their singing and performance is a bit rough around the edges, but you can definitely feel no hesitation on the messages they're trying to convey. There's something in it that resonates within your heart. Haruka: Yes, the way they play feels like they can't help but just enjoy themselves in music. Somehow it reminds me of us back then. Masato: Perhaps the teachers and seniors felt the same way too when they saw us back at the academy. Masato: Although we were still technically and mentally inexperienced, we all had strong aspirations born out of our love for music. Haruka: That's right… It's because I met Hijirikawa-san and everyone that I'm here right now. Masato: I felt the same way too. Maybe their performance here could actually change someone's future too. Masato: …As a matter of fact, I've also had a fateful encounter too that changed my whole life a long time ago.

*: Amigurumi (編みぐるみ) is a Japanese art form that involves crocheting or knitting small, stuffed, yarn creatures or objects.

Ch 3: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 21 with Masato)

-Park- Haruka: Hijirikawa-san's fateful encounter…? Masato: Yeah. It happened back from before I entered the academy, and you could say that it was an encounter that can be considered a turning point in my life. Masato: If it weren't for that miraculous day, there's probably no chance of me choosing an entertainment industry as my path. Masato: It was all thanks to that person that I am now able to move forward without any hesitation. Masato: And then, if I could become an idol who shines bright someday, I might be able to return the favor to them. Haruka: Hijirikawa-san… Masato: Though I wonder if the current me now is even worthy of being such a bright example as of that… Haruka: Hijirikawa-san is already shining bright. So much that just staring at you would blind my eyes away. Masato: …Thanks, Nanami. Hearing your words gives me a lot of confidence. Haruka: Likewise, thank you for letting me listen to that wonderful story. Haruka: Once again I was reminded that I, too, want to bring the music that I love to as many people as possible. Masato: You're right. I also want to deliver more of my feelings through music too. Masato: I will have to work even more harder so that I can perform a sound that will change even fate. Haruka: Fufu, I will use the inspiration I received here today in my songwriting as soon as I return home. Masato: I'm glad that this is worth your time. Let's go out together again just like this sometime.

Ch 4: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 31 with Masato)

Ch 5: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 41 with Masato)

Ch 6: (unlocked if you reached intimacy lvl 51 with Masato)

[deliciouskeys]

This fic has been entirely inspired by @vanshoundd's Butchlander cowboy AU art. I went feral after I saw it and wrote 3k words as soon as my work week was over. The art didn't need fic, but... um... now you have it.

(thank you for keeping the Butchlander tag alive with your pretty art, Vans)

Frontier Justice. Butchlander.

Billy had just ordered his third glass of whiskey when a blond stranger strolled in through the swinging doors of the bar. The man decided to situate himself on the stool right beside him even though there were plenty of empty seats at the bar at this early evening hour. Billy glanced over as the man took off his bright white leather hat and set it on the stool beside him, wiped the sweat off his brow and took out an actual comb to rearrange his matted hair. He looked so very familiar and Billy was trying to place him. When the barman came over to ask the stranger ‘what’ll it be?’ and he ordered a sarsaparilla, Billy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Bout what?” the man asked nonchalantly, even as popped the metal cap off the glass bottle the barman took out from underneath the bar.

Billy realized it was odd to be irritated by another man’s beverage choice, but this was ridiculous. “Enjoyin’ that?”

“Yeah?” the other man answered in an equally querying tone.

Looking at him carefully, Billy suddenly pieced together why the man looked familiar. “Say, aren’t you that Jack Lander fellow?”

“Indeed,” Jack answered, taking another long sip from the long bottle neck. “You a fan?”

“Just didn’t recognize you without all ‘em rhinestones and garish boots.”

Jack Lander was a notorious figure in the area. He gained his fame by traveling around with the Wild West Show that went around the bigger towns. He was an incredible natural talent, probably the best marksman this side of the Mississippi, and an expert with the lasso, although Billy always thought it was mostly showy tricks than good old-fashioned useful skills. Jack used to wow audiences with all sort of ridiculous feats like standing up on a galloping horse and managing to shoot glass bottle targets on the run. Billy attended twice before the show shut down, the first time dragged against his will by Hughie, a young ranchhand who was eager to see the show. The next year when the show came around, Billy went into town on his own, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing Jack Lander’s gaudy button shirt with rhinestone highlights across the chest and shoulders, catching the afternoon light seductively. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how pretty Jack’s ass was in those newfangled denim dungarees you couldn’t get at most supply stores, stretched drum-tight around his hips and legs, a pretty blue color. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t rub one out in his tent that night, remembering the way Jack looked doing all his fancy trick roping.

Jack hmphed into his bottle of root beer. “What was wrong with my boots?”

“Other than the fact they were scarlet red and the spurs were painted to look like gold? Nothing at all.” Billy chuckled.

“Those were for the ladies in the audience,” Jack said flatly.

Jack Lander was certainly a ladykiller, but the reality was there were still not many as many ladies out here as fellows, and Billy couldn’t believe this man didn’t enjoy at least some attention from men on the side. “Didn’t realize it was exclusively for the ladies,” he said, winking, taking the last sip of his whiskey, gauging Jack’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Far from rebuffing the flirtation, Jack finally turned and looked at him, and smiled amiably. He made to clink bottle to glass before noticing Billy had finished his whiskey, and motioned the bartender over to ask for a refill for his ‘friend.’

“I’ll be paying for it,” Billy reassured the bartender who looked at the two of them skeptically. “It’ll be my fourth and the sun ain’t even set yet...” Billy warned Jack as he raised the refilled glass.

“Should have ordered sarsaparilla,” Jack said in sing-song, winking, clinking bottle to glass.

“Why are ya drinkin that vile kid stuff?”

“Because I’m thirsty?” Jack paused before adding. “And I like my hand steady and my wits about me.”

“Wits, huh. Well you might enjoy the conversation with me a bit more if ya didn’t have so many wits about you.”

Jack laughed, flashing his miraculously perfect white teeth, none of them crooked, broken, or worn down.

Billy glanced down to see he had not one but two holsters at each hip. What the hell did he need four revolvers and such a steady hand for? All Billy knew about Jack after the Wild West Show shut down a few years ago was that he started making his living bounty hunting. Sometimes it was runaway criminals, awful men. A lot of the time it was Apaches and Comanches that he’d shoot on sight, which was against the law, strictly speaking, not that there was anyone around here who would ever enforce it. It was a risky and cruel profession compared to driving herds across the plains like Billy was usually hired to do. It was a wonder that not only was Jack still alive, but that he looked not at all worse for the wear, even though his days of sleeping in a comfortable wagon trailer and getting glammed up for shows were over. His outfit was more practical, certainly-- baggier, brown trousers and coat with grime on the lower hems, a wide brim hat with no embellishments, unless one counted the visible salt fronts from head sweat. But he still had a small red bandana tied around his collar, and the shirt peeking out from underneath his coat was still a crisp white cotton number from what Billy could see of it. Billy was surprised at how tempting it was to peel Jack out of his layers and see if he was still a dandy at heart, and if his shirt was tailored to be form-fitting.

They both finished off their drinks, eyeing each other. They got up and Billy paid both of their tabs.

As soon as they walked out of the bar, Jack pulled Billy into the narrow shady alley between the bar and the next building—an inn of ill-repute of some sort.

“Can you really afford to be paying for other people’s drinks, William?” Jack asked in a hushed tone. Billy’s body was responding swiftly to being in close quarters with this man, but he soon felt the end of a revolver pressed into his chest. “From what I’ve heard of you, all you’ve done is rustled some cattle for someone else every now and then. Truth be told, I don’t even know why there’s a large bounty on your head when you haven’t held up a train or robbed a bank or been in any sort of bandit gang.”

Billy smiled wryly. He had his long rifle slung over his shoulder, but there was no way he could defend himself with it now. “Should’ve figured they’d put a bounty on me. Reckon it might’ve been the sheriff I shot over in Bitter Creek.”

“Ah, that’d do it,” Jack grinned, and his perfect white teeth looked more menacing in the shade of the alley. “Why the hell would you do that, William Butcher.”

“You can call me Billy if you’re going to end me. The sheriff was a piece of work, I got on the wrong side of him and it was going to be him or me. I didn’t run afoul of anything, he just took it into his mind that he didn’t like me. He hanged eight innocent people in the span of a few months working at that godforsaken little outpost. Mad with power. But I guess someone like you wouldn’t be judging a man for that.”

Jack smiled, more friendly this time without the rowful of teeth. There wasn’t really anything to lose. Billy leaned forward, despite the barrel of the Colt digging into his flesh, flicked the hat off Jack’s head and full-on kissed his would-be judge and executioner.

Jack inhaled in surprise, but returned the kiss full force, the faint taste of whiskey and the soft drink still on their lips intermingling. Jack eased the gun away, fumbling to put it back in the holster, breathing a quiet muffled moan into the kiss.

“Fuck-“ he said as he tore away. “Jesus Christ.”

“I would like the honor of fucking you. Just once. Before you bring my head in or whatever it is you do for proof of your kills.”

Jack was staring at him, pupils blown wide, still breathing hard.

“Take off your fucking coat. Let me look at ya,” Billy said, surprising himself with how imperious he sounded when he was in pretty dire straits.

Jack obeyed him wordlessly. Took off his coat, but didn’t give Billy much of a chance to admire him-- launched himself right back into the kiss, as if he were parched and Billy’s mouth was water. Jack’s figure hadn’t changed much since the show years, nice tapered waist that Billy instinctively grasped. Jack was a couple of inches shorter than him, and light enough that Billy simply lifted him off his feet, planting him on one of the water barrels stored in the alley. Jack didn’t protest, only pulled Billy in closer, pulling his hat out of the way before kissing him again.

They came apart again. Billy was out of breath too. “I’ll be honest, if you tease me like that I’m liable to just fuck you in the alley. Rather do it somewhere else. Unless you’re in a real rush to get to your next target.”

“Can’t say I am,” Jack said, still catching his breath.

“I don’t have a room at the inn. I sleep in a tent outside of town until there’s another cattle run.”

“Fine by me.” Jack shrugged. “I’ll fuck you under the stars. Inn here’s nothing to write home about-- got lice the one time I stayed the night coming through here before.”

Billy smiled wistfully. They rode out of town, the sun already low near the horizon, and the air quickly shifting from stifling to pleasantly cool to chilly. Jack was following behind him, having taken Billy’s rifle too. Billy thought about how maybe this was all a strange ploy to just kill him outside of the town line. Jack could shoot him from behind, and knowing his aim, he wouldn’t have any trouble dispatching him with one shot to the head, before Billy knew what hit him. But when Billy dared look behind him, Jack would smile, looking eager for what they had planned. No fear that Billy could lead him into an ambush of some sort. Pure unadulterated confidence. Billy found his tent site, and took a few minutes to build a small fire in the stone ring he’d made before. Maybe he was just stalling, knowing that once they did the deed, he was probably not long for this world. He saw Jack’s black boots come into his view once the fire was going strong.

“You wanna get on with it?” Jack said, and there was a note of whininess in his tone.

“Put the guns away, at least,” Billy muttered. “So I can peel you out of that outfit.”

His tent really wasn’t made for fucking—too narrow and low for anything but sleeping. The air wasn’t too cold yet. Billy lay out as many thick blankets as he could on the ground and Jack seemed to have no reservations, starting to strip himself down.

“You a seasoned rider?” Billy asked tugged off his brown pants.

Jack pulled a face. “Ridden my share. Tame, wild, you name it. Just so long as I like the look of it, I’ll ride it.”

This was a fantasy come true. That irritating pretty rodeo cowboy he was so taken with years ago was lying underneath him, ripe for the taking, admitting to wanting it. Billy opened his shirt carefully, not wanting to ruin the fancy tailoring or ivory buttons. The shirt wasn’t pristine white—there were pitstains and a bit of yellowness around the back of the collar. Jack wasn’t as perfect up close as he was in the rodeo ring. He smelled like horses, hay, and gunpowder.

“Reckon I’ll spare you if you’re real sweet to me,” Jack said, a smug smile on his face.

“And what if I’m rough?” Billy asked. He was almost reluctant to do it but reached into his boot and pulled out a sizeable knife that he pressed against Jack’s throat. Jack’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look too unnerved. This sick son-of-a-bitch looked like he was getting a thrill out of it.

“What if I’m rough with ya and take what I want then just slit your throat and leave you here in the desert for the crows?”

Jack was still smiling. “You won’t want to.”

“Why? Cause you’re such a good fuck?”

“Cause I like your style and you don’t seem like the kind.” Jack leaned forward, so that Billy instinctively moved the knife away from his throat before remembering himself.

Billy shoved him down into the blankets, holding him there because Jack kept trying to get up and resume kissing, or maybe intent on getting away and getting to the guns he’d discarded a few yards away. “Soft enough for you? Warm enough?”

Jack nodded. As Billy pulled Jack’s pants off his legs, his cock sprang out of its confines, raring to go. You’d never know they were negotiating who was going to murder whom. Jack Lander was a pretty little thing alright. A deadly, dangerous, unscrupulous little thing with a terrible profession, but Billy didn’t mind.

Billy didn’t want to have the knife in his hand. He wanted to take his time and enjoy this. As long as he kept this self-satisfied little strumpet of a man underneath him, he could probably hold him down with his weight. He threw the knife out of reach and picked up Jack’s legs over his own shoulders. He spat a gob of spit into his palm, quickly preparing himself, testing the body in front of him out with two probing fingers.

Jack squirmed but looked receptive, but when Billy pushed himself inside, there was a grunt of discomfort.

“Don’t have oil on me,” Billy muttered, kneading his hand against the soft flesh of Jack’s ass.

“Didn’t think you would,” Jack shot back, laughing.

Billy spat more into his hand, pulling out just enough to add a bit more to the mix.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Jack said, sneering, moving his knees so Billy’s neck was squeezed tight between his calves. What Billy thought was a vulnerable position for Jack now let him choke Billy with relative ease. Billy shoved his legs down but Jack just wrapped his legs around Billy’s waist, digging his heels into him out of habit, as if even without spurs the motion could cause things to move along faster.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll fuck ya,” Billy gritted out through his teeth and set up a fast pace. He still couldn’t believe his fortune, both good and bad. He never thought anyone would bother looking for him—he hadn’t even shot that sheriff fatally, but he left town to be on the safe side and heard through hearsay that the bastard died of blood infection anyway. But if there was ever a good way to get hunted down this was probably it. If Jack Lander still managed to kill him, at least he got to fuck him first.

It was growing dark and the campfire cast flickering light along Jack’s pale skin, and their shadows against the tent looked elongated and distorted. Their two horses watched them from the post they’re tied to. Jack turned out to be quite a screamer, shouting and cursing into the empty desert when he came, hands going from tight fists to falling completely limp by his side. Billy pushed in quickly, relentlessly, satisfied that he made the other man mewl first. It wasn’t long before he came too. He slumped down on Jack, as much out of physical tiredness as growing mentally weary when he thought about how he’d probably have to kill Jack. At the very least, he’d have to take all the guns and both horses if he didn’t want Jack to follow him to the next town.

“You plottin’ what to do about me?” Jack asked, as if reading his mind. “I’m not gonna kill ya. I’m not gonna turn you in. I don’t need the money. I do this for my own pleasure.”

Billy relented and shifted his body weight off of him, courteously offering Jack the side closer to the campfire, but saying nothing.

Jack moved closer, pressing his body into Billy’s and looking sleepy. Neither was probably planning on it, but they fell asleep in the open air, only waking up when the fire died down and the air had gotten nippy. They shuffled into the tent, Jack falling asleep before Billy, squeezed close, arms in a loose embrace around him.

The next morning Jack was sitting there, watching Billy build another campfire. He looked half-asleep, shivering, wrapped in one of the blankets, with only his head showing and his hair mussed.

“I don’t have any more wood. We’re gonna have to resort to prairie coal this morning.”

“You think I’m so soft? That I never slept outdoors or made do with what’s out here?”

“You don’t look like you have.”

“Well you’re mistaken.” Jack looked away towards the horses before turning back. “I was meaning to ask you... if you were interested in my line of work at all?”

Billy only laughed in response.

“It’s not the most glamorous of jobs, I’ll give you that, but it’s better than doing cattle drives for other people. You might be good at catchin’ these villains.”

“Catching? Thought the point was to kill them. Dead or alive usually just means dead.”

Jack sighed.

“Why’re you so eager to get more competitors in your territory in any case?” Billy asked, finally stepping back from the fire to admire his handiwork, before putting a pot of morning coffee on.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a partnership. I do well enough on my own, but everyone needs a backup now and then. And it gets lonely out on the trail.”

Billy laughed. “Nah, you and I? We ain’t got anything in common. I never wanted to kill people as a profession.”

“Well, I know we’ve got an interest in the same type of night entertainment at least,” Jack muttered under his breath.

Billy stopped himself short when he caught himself imagining that kind of life. It was insane to even consider it.

“You don’t think Lander & Butcher has a certain ring to it?” Jack asked, smiling, unwrapping himself from the blanket and moving closer to the fire, stretching out his hands towards the flames. “We could bring some real frontier justice to these parts.”

[madamewalburga]

(warning: jilypad nsfw under the cut. mdni. sirius isn’t here but it’s still jilypad idc. wc 800+. jilypad nation, please accept my humble offering.)

“God, I hate being a girl.”

James huffed on Lily’s neck, sliding his arms around her waist. He met her eyes on the vanity mirror, smiling fondly as he watched her remove her makeup.

“Don’t. You’re a very pretty girl.”

“Not as pretty as Sirius,” she smirked.

“Keep it down, don’t let him hear you say that.” James kissed under her ear, unzipping her dress from behind. He took one sleeve off, kissing the exposed shoulder. “You know how big his head gets with a few silly compliments.”

Lily chuckled lowly. “You’d think he’d be used to it by now, yeah? Being born that pretty.”

James made a noncommittal sound. His hands were still busy undressing his wife. He mouthed at every exposed inch of skin he could reach — not quite kisses, but rather warm exhales that smell heavily like wine.

It had been one of those monthly dinners the Order holds, this time with the Potters hosting. The people pleasing extrovert in James always enjoyed these gatherings. Seeing all his friends and loved ones safe and happy in his home made him feel warm inside. Especially Lily and Sirius. Watching them bask in each other’s presence, invade each other’s personal space, foreheads touching as they whisper so intimately, the way Sirius and James always do. It made James feel very warm indeed.

“Lashes,” he mouthed on Lily’s cheek.

“Hm, want me to remove them?”

“No,” he kissed her fully on the mouth, tasting gin. Sirius’s beverage of choice. “Sirius. Long lashes. They tickle when he gets too close.”

James turned her around to face him to kiss her again, this time more deeply. He licked around her mouth, chasing the bitter and citrus taste of Sirius’s gin. The same brand as the one they nicked from Walburga’s cabinet when they were sixteen.

Lily pulled away with a breathy moan. “That’s true. They’re long and curl upwards too.” She turns back to the mirror, wiping the now messy lipstick off her face.

“Bet that pissed you off,” James smirked, wrapping his arms around her again.

“Pissed the entire girls dorm of Gryffindor, more like.”

Lily moaned as she grinded on James’s erection. She stared at her husband’s eyes on the vanity’s reflection, finding the same intensity of lust mirroring hers.

“I want to know something,” she led one of James’s hands to her breast, his index finger quickly playing with the erect nipple. “Did you ever do it? With him?”

“Do what with who?”

“You know what.”

James bent down to kiss a shoulder. “No,” he replied sincerely.

“Not even some friendly hand jobs?”

“What, you and Marlene did some friendly fingers?” James chuckled.

“Idiot,” she lightly slapped the hip she was touching. Then, hands moving slowly, she started working on James’s belt. “We shared some…photos. Passed it to each other before showers.”

“Yeah, well, we did too.” James helped her push his trousers down, then placed her hands back to her waist, slowly going lower. “Most we did was jack off to the same mag. At the same time.”

“Yeah?” Lily started palming James’s erection, feeling a slight wetness on his boxers. “That happened a lot?”

“Once or twice. Maybe forty times. He stayed the summers at ours, yanno?”

“Hmm.”

They stayed like that for a while, palming each other through their underwear. They exchanged lazy kisses, smiling at each other in between.

“Did you watch him as he touched himself?” Lily whispered between kisses, fingers playing with the garter of James’s boxers.

“Once or twice. Maybe forty times.”

“Did you ever want to touch him? Make him come undone?”

James paused. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing.

Staring intently at his wife in the mirror, he asked. “Why are we talking about Sirius?”

“I want to know.”

“Lily—“

“Tell me,” she faced him. She kept her eyes open as she kissed him. Staring at him. Daring him. “Tell me.”

Never one to back down from anything, James put both hands on the vanity table behind her, caging her between his arms. He bent down and kissed her slow, eyes open, as he grinded against her. Staring at her. Daring her back. “Once or twice.��

Lily smirked, finally putting her hand inside James’s boxers. “Maybe forty times?”

James smirked back. “I don’t want to lie to you, love. It’s probably more than that.”

“Probably?”

“Definitely.”

“And?” Lily whispered. She stroked James slowly and watched the pleasure on her husband’s face. She briefly wondered which behaviors and mannerisms Sirius would share with James during sex. Does he dip his head towards the left side like James when somebody touches him? Does he scratch his thighs as well when somebody takes him in their mouth? Are James’s mannerisms in bed a mirror of Sirius’s? Or was it an unaware response to his endless desire to cater to what Sirius wants?

“How did he look?”

She already knew how James looked above her, as he thrusts his love into her. She wanted to know how Sirius would look under James, as her husband overwhelms with love and pleasure.

James smiled slowly at her. He bent down once again, making sure he was eye level with his wife this time as he slid his finger inside her.

“Still prettier than you, babe.”

[dmagedgoods]

Owlcatober Day 22 - Nobility: The Intruder /

Below - Chapter III

His bright, familiar laugh captivated him the way it always had. It was a condescending sound, but it didn’t lack interest. “Lord Adar! A pleasure. I take it that you are not a frequent visitor to such exuberant gatherings? You ignored my last invitations with flagrant indifference.” The young, long-haired man smiled at Daeran. “A lord? Only on the paper.” With a cheeky wink, he added: “But you can call me Tao.” “I will call you a welcome distraction. This celebration long outlived its purpose: to provide me with frivolous, inordinate entertainment.” Daeran made a tired gesture. “Look at them, as tedious as uninspiring wherever I go, by ill luck, even here at the gate to the fearsome worldwound.” The party was past its peak, indeed, most of its decadent guests had reached an unpleasant level of drunkenness or intoxication by various drugs and alcoholic beverages, unable to even stand straight, muttering nonsense with their pompous, tasteless clothes disheveled, giggling senselessly while lying on red velvet couches and colorful pillows on the floor, or fucking prostitutes in corners not dark enough to spare him the view of their sweating, grunting bodies. The room was a disgusting mess of empty bottles, half-eaten food, knocked-over furniture, and two or three unconscious bodies. He had never seen Daeran not bored sooner or later during his own gatherings of this very nature, and still it seemed they stayed his diversion of choice for a reason unknown to him. “Rumors say it’s the Knight Commander himself who provides you with distractions,” the strangely sober, late guest continued their conversation, and Daeran’s smile grew cold. “The Knight Commander? He wouldn’t condescend to do something more fun than take a bath in ice water. He reminds me a little of my dear cousin, both politicians - which should be telling enough already -, as fond of their power as of their own wearisome voices. Even more, they share the same self-righteous, holier-than-thou demeanor that bores their enemies to death before they get an opportunity to attack. One should think that with this remarkable ability, the crusades would have been over a long time ago.” Fierce agony had entwined his body and soul alike, contracting tighter and tighter around his very being, cutting into what was left of him with every painful breath. His wishes blurred with his reality and memories, his need for him, his bitter yearning. Was Daeran feeling it too? – Or had he been successful at shaking him off like an annoying fever dream? The stranger laughed. “So, people are right with their stories? He is Iomedae’s chosen one?” “You truly haven’t spent much time in Drezen, have you? The only one who chose him is himself, as some quite amusing current developments have shown. Neither Iomedae nor my cousin are overly fond of him anymore. An enjoyable little irony.” The only one who chose him is himself. The truth in those words weighed heavy on his heart. “Well then, it seems, you and I, we are outliers among the local nobility.” Lord Adar smiled his charismatic smile, and a part of him wanted to turn it into a grimace of pain. “We?” Daeran asked mockingly. “Well, unfortunately, we are surrounded by his kind in one direction, and …” He gestured toward the room. “theirs in the other.” “Excruciating.” “In this case, as your distraction of choice, allow me to suggest something closer to the excitement you wished for.” “Oh? And what could you possibly have in mind with that oh-so-subtle insinuation?” The stranger leaned closer until his lips almost touched Daeran’s ear. He couldn’t hear the words, but he saw his mouth brush his cheek, Daeran’s long fingers on his arm as if to hold him in place, and how Lord Adar elegantly escaped him nonetheless. “My room. In half an hour, and I will await you in most pleasant anticipation.” With that, and after a playful bow, he left through the large doorway. Daeran leaned back. Not a hint of a smile stayed on his features the moment he found himself alone again among his illustrious guests.

Maybe it was his oracle senses, maybe just a last hint of their once-so-strong connection, but something made him look up to the low, elegant gallery with the dark entwined balustrade, his luminescent eyes attentive and searching the moment he stepped back into the shadows. His black coat merged with the darkness. He should not have come, not have given in to the urge to see him. For some long, torturous heartbeats, they stood motionless. Sensing each other’s presence. Or maybe just a vague impression. Then Daeran turned around and walked towards the door as well to get ready for his distraction of choice. A potion of invisibility hid him further when, eventually, he stepped out of the darkness and left the house behind. ~ While not needing the story at all, this little snippet is an added scene to "Below" and happens after the second chapter.

[catguangcorner]

Sure, I'll bite.

What are your headcanons about the Link Click trio's favorite ice cream + hot beverage + cold beverage and why. :)

thank you for the ask!! also i have indeed started reading third time's the charm and !!!! already hitting me in the feels

ok SO I'll go character by character:

qiao ling: for favourite ice cream I'm generally thinking fruity/refreshing flavours, though more specifically (maybe because of one of her official arts i saw recently) strawberry! but she might also be picky with what makes Good strawberry ice cream and plays it safe if she's buying from a new place. probably vanilla, i feel like one can't really go wrong with vanilla.

as for drinks, i like the idea that QL and LG enjoy tea together. QL will shuffle over to the studio after hours and do a face mask and LG will prepare them tea (always non-caffinated, because QL says she's too sensitive to caffeine lately at night), and they'll drink it and enjoy each other's quiet company. LG probably reads while QL does some scrollingon her phone.

finally for cold drinks, we already know that boba runs are a common occurrence at the studio, but i bet QL also really loves trying out novel iced-drinks. I'm thinking caramel iced lattes, strawberry chai iced, green energy smoothie 3000, etc. drinks with really long, convoluted names, that are kind of a fad but that's ok!! let her have fun with her silly little drinks!!!

cheng xiaoshi: i think, contrastingly, CXS is a big fan of the ice cream flavours that can border on sickly sweet, depending on the place. he likes chocolate, and cookie dough, and those ice creams loaded with lots of other sweets inside them. mind you, i don't think he has ice cream like that regularly or he'd definitely get sick of it, but when the opportunity arises trust he'll be asking for all the extras and sprinkles.

for hot drinks—CXS likes coffee! i don't think he Always liked coffee, because it's such an acquired taste especially when you're younger. during uni he probably got into it in the quest to stay up and meet those damn deadlines lol. so he grew used to drinking it from there. he either: takes his coffee black but with quite a bit of sugar (which LG tuts at him for) or he has it milky.

his cold beverage of choice....he kind of gives me standard iced coffee + extra sugar + chews on the leftover ice cubes after lmaoo. he also does indulge QL when she drags him to a pop up shop to get a limited time Novel Iced Beverage.

lu guang: doesn't like ice cream 😞 if it's really hot he'll have ice lollies/popcicles and if you held him at gunpoint and told him he HAD to choose, he'd choose vanilla. however, he will sometimes have spoonfuls/a bite of CXS's ice cream. Occasionally. more often than he'd willingly admit. CXS always makes fun of him, saying, "you don't even like ice cream, so why are you suddenly so eager to have mine?" (he never stops him though)

hot beverage: i did go over this a little in QL's section hehe, but let me elaborate! i think LG prefers tea, but has a robust beverage routine, in which he'll have black coffee (no sugar. ok sometimes maybe a teaspoon. but only Sometime) with his breakfast. then in the evenings he'll have his tea (sometimes with QL). I like to think though he mostly has green tea, he really likes oulong. CXS pokes fun at how devoted LG is to this routine of his, and in turn LG will lecture him about how having caffeine after a certain hour is bad for him and really, he ought to be drinking more tea for its health benefits, etc, etc

cold beverage: because we know that LG doesn't like overly sweet things, but likes boba, i can't help but to think he enjoys most forms of iced tea. like he'll make himself homemade iced tea during the summer and have it all throughout the day!

ok ok im done now apologies this is so long-winded i am nothing if not overly detailed about my blorbos

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Sitting in your requests box

Could I possibly ask for a Viktor & Reader (either familial or platonic, please) headcanons or a oneshot where Viktor (reluctantly) comforts the reader after a bad dream? (I know this is probably OOC for Viktor but. but. Cat dad)

We do love Dadktor in this household.

Cracked Glass

Viktor wouldn't call himself a father, or at least not a very good one.

Although his daughter's letters were all signed off with love, he could feel the bitterness beneath the lines, the cold regret of his silence in every "merry Christmas" or "please write soon". He could see the deep indents in the paper as the years dragged on, where shy curiosity about his absence turned to frustration. As Alena's curly handwriting became neater and clearer to read, so did her feelings towards him.

She loved him to bits, but she just wanted some sort of proof that he loved her back.

Viktor would have given it if holding a pen was more familiar to him than holding a gun was. If ink and blood were switched. If he wasn't embarrassed that his daughter's English and overall prose was better than his own. If he believed that anything he could say could make any of it better.

It wouldn't. A single letter from him would warrant a landslide of questions, open up cans of worms and shaken booze he'd rather keep closed and in his own flask.

A father would have done so regardless of the consequences. Viktor would not have considered himself as such, no matter how much the pain of it trickled down his tight throat and heaving chest.

In times like this, he chugged whatever illicit beverage was closest to him.

The last bottle of Sunset Rose Cocktail.

Slightly better than radiator fluid, the drink that felt like downing shattered glass, disgusting enough to take his mind off things.

Mrs May would probably scold him for drinking one of the last bottles they had. However, Viktor knew her well enough. Her hardened gaze would soften, as would she. She'd leave him be with a saddened smile and a sigh, then go and sit in a leather booth off to the side or return to the upstairs office. Anywhere that would remind her, and all of them, of Mr May.

And Viktor would continue to drink.

His guts—even after being hardened by years of questionable nutrition choices in the trenches, prison and even the speakeasy itself—protested loudly. Cracked glass indeed. No one would miss it.

He was doing the joint a favour.

It was mainly empty, anyway. The employees they could spare—and there were a few—had been sent on last minute liquor searches. Usual customers such as Mr Sable had supposedly been held back by meetings in the real world. Horatio had fallen asleep by the door, or so the loud snoring from outside implied. Zib and his group were lounging on stage in a depressing silence and drunken stupor.

The rest of the gun-savvy staff—very few, maybe two or three—left behind were those recovering from avoidable injuries. At their head was Viktor himself, reluctantly manning the bar. Feared gunslinger to an old tabby locked behind the counter with weak knees, the permanent head of the stragglers.

None of the other runners were happy with their predicament either. They were visibly restless, pacing the floor and muttering to themselves as if it would heal their injuries any faster. No one wanted to end up like Viktor: that was common knowledge, and offended him just a little.

The only one who was actually resting did so off to the side, a twisted wrist bandaged up in strips of linen. Their head was buried between their arms, sleeping soundly.

Viktor had been watching them for a while out of the corner of his eye. Y/N, he vaguely heard someone call them.

They were one of the speakeasy's new rumrunners, small and fluffy—although to be fair, that was what most of Lackadaisy's youngsters looked like to him.

The only difference between them was the amount of tolerance he had in regards to each one. Ivy was at the top of the list, Rocky was at the bottom, and that ginger Calvin kid was lost somewhere in the middle because he never really built up the courage to stay in Viktor's presence for longer than a minute at a time.

Y/N stirred, then shivered, and finally woke up with a start. Glistening beads of sweat and wide, terrified eyes sparkled in the light of the cavern's lamps, dimmed to save on the bills.

They looked around, and finally locked eyes with Viktor. He looked down and away, put away the empty bottle and continued to polish a shot glass. Both the glass and the rag were comically small between his paws, and it took him all of his concentration to avoid crushing either.

He didn't hear the rumrunner slowly pad up to the counter, pull up a chair and only paid attention when they cleared their throat.

"Vat?" he asked, gruffly. The growl was unintentional.

"Can I talk to you?" asked Y/N. "I had a bad dream…"

A bartender needs to look like someone the patronage can tell their troubles to, Mrs May had told him many times.

It of course insinuated that he looked nothing of the sort. Other members of staff often joked that smiling properly would kill him one of these days. Vinegar, they called him, sour old Vinegar. They thought he wasn't listening, of course. He never gave any indication that he ever did, but Viktor heard it all. The cave's echoey atmosphere was the bane of secret rumours and the friend of those defamed by them. Neither brought any sense of victory when accomplished, but oftentimes were the only things worth latching onto in times of trouble. Viktor never confronted any of the stories about him. Many would think that he simply didn't care enough to. The claw marks on the underside of the bar begged to differ.

No smile, and few public clues or knowledge about his past. Sensible patrons and staff members would see that as reason enough to distance themselves from him. There were always exceptions.

The groggy-eyed feline slumped into the stool before him was one of them.

Viktor gave Y/N reluctant permission with a dismissive wave. He turned to the lines of bottles and glasses behind the counter. He had cleaned them religiously and multiple times that evening alone. One more time wouldn't hurt.

"I had a nightmare."

He hummed, rearranging the whiskey.

"I was on a run, alone. I don't know why. There was no one at all, not even in the speakeasy. I… I think everyone was dead…"

Dead.

That was a word he didn't hear too often—ironic considering his line of work—and least of all from the mouth of a kid. Oh sure, Rocky weaved it into poetry and aggressive patrons spat it out when they cursed out God over their drinks, but the thought of applying it to the rest of the staff, so bluntly, undisguised?

He stopped to properly listen, ears cocked.

"I was driving the car alone down a road by the river—I don't remember exactly where—and it was dark. There was nothing in front of me, nothing behind me, only under. The ground was made of glass everywhere I looked and the further I drove, the more it cracked. I couldn't stop and I couldn't get out. I just had to keep driving."

Their voice shuddered and broke, cracking like the road that haunted them. Viktor had since abandoned the shelves, electing instead to lean against the counter. He listened even more carefully. Politely, granted, but listening nonetheless.

"And then it split. I fell and I crashed down into freezing black water and I could get out. I couldn't swim, I just sank. Like a rock. I can't remember how I woke up. I think… I think I died too…"

The rumrunner's eyes glanced up towards Viktor. They were glazed with a glassy sheen, and…

Raspberries!—to borrow an expression from Ivy.

Were those tears running down their cheeks?

Raspberries indeed.

"My pop died during a run from the cops," they said, sniffling. "We don't even know why. Ma said he was trying to provide for us, he probably stole something. The feds chased him down to the riverbank and he lost control. They found the car the next morning and I… I can't end up like him, I can't die! My ma and sisters need me, we need the money! I can't leave them, I can't…"

They furiously wiped away the streams of tears that had only gotten bigger and wetter as they spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all this, you probably don't care, I'm…"

They hung their head, almost in shame.

Viktor said nothing.

He poured them a glass of whiskey—you never knew—and then he did something he never did before. He laid his paw on their shoulder.

The cat looked up again. Their expression twisted with somehow even more fear than the prospect of drowning did. Viktor didn't expect anything less, nor anything more.

He didn't pull away. Despite their grimace of fear, he could see the softness in their eyes.

Viktor wasn't one to use his imagination that often; what use was dreaming when a bullet could hit you any second? The only fantasy he had conjured up was his daughter stepping off a boat and running down the gangplank into his arms.

She had that same, soft look.

In Y/N, he could see Alena.

It was a semblance close enough to melt his heart. A little.

"It gets better," he told them gruffly. "It's not real."

He was never good with words, and used them sparingly. Tonight, however, they seemed to be enough to slow the flow of tears.

Y/N blinked up at him. "Really?"

A childish response to be sure, but one that Alena would have probably replied with as well.

Viktor's throat tightened. "Yes." He coughed. "Now; bar is a mess, and broom only need one good hand. To work."

The young feline smiled and hopped over the counter. "To work," they echoed.

They downed the whiskey with an enthusiasm only rivaled by Ivy's own and snatched up the broom. They darted between Viktor's legs and fluffy tail, sweeping shards of broken glass up and away. With a beaming grin and a theatrical bow, they demanded him for another task, claiming they could take anything on even with a broken wrist.

And for the first time in what felt like—and probably was—forever, Viktor smiled back.

[papiermachecat]

Helloooooo anyone who still follows me! I figured I’d better do a writeup of my pilgrimage to Slane with some notorious fellow tumblr hags because most of THEM are headed to Wembley for multiple shows which is fine and I’m not jealous at all because it’s FINE.

Amongst other things, in this writeup I will address A) my first time flying internationally (0/10 would do again but did not enjoy) B) the very flexible meaning of “5 minute walk” coming from an Irish or British person, C) the Irish weather (glorious), and D) the personal shortcomings of everyone I met on the trip (this section WILL be lengthy)*

Anyway my last day of school with students was Thursday June 8, and yesterday I had to be at work to do summer cleanup & checkout. In between I flew to Dublin???? Met my friends?? Almost died(more on that later)! And came back home! It’s insanity. So I waved goodbye to the buses on Thursday, raced home, dyed my hair (? I was not thinking clearly), packed, and was at the airport by 5:45 PM. “Wow!” you might be thinking, “She’s clearly very efficient and organized!” Unless you’ve ever spent two (2) minutes with me, then you know better. So yeah, flight was uneventful, Aer Lingus is kinda crappy but if you were seated in the first 10 rows you had a chance of getting an ice cube in your water so there’s that.

Upon arrival at Dublin, I met up with the fabulous @aggresivelyfriendly fresh from Italy and we had the loveliest taxi driver chat with us through sunny Dublin and drop us at the door of our very hip boutique hotel and I thought wow, these taxi drivers are so nice! Can’t wait to meet more of them! HAHAHAHA anyway

At the hotel we met up with fellow Americans @chasm2018 and @accidentalharrie , soon joined by the best UK/Ireland team since Harry & Niall, the delightful @cantquitu and @justharried as well as the famed, Harry-endorsed Mr. Justharried, who not only endured our company but even gave a good show of enjoying it! A fine man indeed 😘. Anyway yes, we hugged, we chatted, we ate, it was GRAND. A plan was formulated! Pop down to early merch, see a few sights, have a little lunch, shop a bit maybe, then dinner…all sounded lovely. Bit of walking, they said. Not very far, they said. Just down the road! they said.

So anyway we get to early merch—just a 10-15 minute walk with lovely weather, and there was NO LINE. None. Walked in, walked up to the counter, bought stuff, done. Blew my mind tbh. Okay great! Headed over to have snacks (the authentic Irish delicacy they call “nachos” idk if you’ve heard of them) and drinks at a church in front of a bronze bust of Arthur (I think?) Guinness, tended to by a very charming waiter who seemed accustomed to crazy Americans who want ice in their water. 10/10.

Side note: I wanted to hear some authentic Irish music. You know, walk by a pub and hear some Celtic ballad being sung while emotional old men all hold up their mugs of foamy beer, right? Well. As it turns out, their musical selections in a bar are pretty much what you’d hear here and I saw NO emotional old men swaying with their pints up as they sang along :/. But we wandered and cantquitu told us tales of her misspent youth in the thrift shops and it was lovely! 10/10

Another “”5 minute walk”” and we were at dinner, which was so lovely. No ice water, naturally, but lovely nonetheless! I had a traditional Irish salmon and tortellini with edamame. FUN FACT: 75% of the world’s supply of edamame is grown in Dingle, Ireland, famously home to Fungi (pronounced FUN-ghee) the dolphin, may he rest in peace. (Parts of that fact are actually true btw, but not the edamame part.)

A quick jaunt (45 miles or so) back to the hotel for more drinks and then off to bed to rest up for HARRYYYYYYYY!! I began to have serious regrets about my footwear choices, and rightly suspected that Saturday could be worse, but HARRY!!!!

STATS: step count: 18K // Ubers taken: 0 // successful acquisitions of a beverage with ice in it: 2 // painful blisters formed: 3

So on Saturday I switched up my shoes and hopes for the best. A quick 5 minute/6 mile walk* to the coach pickup spot and shortly we were on a stifling bus to Slane!! Expect a 20-30 minute walk to the venue, Ticketmaster told me HAHAHA anyway we get dropped off in a cow pasture (FUN FACT: Irish pastures are the lumpiest in the world*), somehow adopt two Irish teenagers who didn’t know until day of that they were supposed to have a chaperone over 25, poor things (I better never catch Lenna & Lily—cantquitu’s beloved nieces—complaining about hags in the fandom!), and off we go! Anyway after the short cow pasture walk and a bridge crossing there was a security check and I thought gosh this wasn’t bad at all! Surely security wouldn’t be set up 46 miles from the venue right? So I strolled through this wooded area, pleasant weather, good company, nice breeze…for perhaps 2-3 hours? Idk might’ve been a bit shorter but I definitely at one point said “Do you think this is some kind of prank? Like just to see how far we’ll walk?” Genuinely, it was FOREVER. My footwear choices had not been sound, my blisters from the day before were so ouchy oh and FUN FACT: the average preferred walking speed of my companions is a 5-minute mile. Which is like a 3-second kilometer, I did the math.*

ANYWAY. The first sign of civilization we saw was a stone wall with a hand-painted sign that I will post here

Please note this is not my photo and must be older as there are now 23 KILLED. SO FAR. Cantquitu told me that is one of her favorite Irish traditions* idk seemed a bit dark to me but 🤷🏻‍♀️

So we’re clearly there, right?? Hahahaha no. Another few billion miles later there’s another security check, then a ticket scan, THEN we’re at the top of a massive hill with merely 6 more miles* to walk to get to our Hollywood pod. I’ve drawn you a map of our route which I will post here.

Once we were settled, it was as you’d expect. So happy. So much fun. I ~almost forgot about the death march I had endured and tried to forget about the inevitably worse one awaiting us—though turns out there was an easier path home—still ages, and done in a sea of people, but easier!

Anyway you all probably saw the show or the best bits of it on video but here are my standout moments that wouldn’t have been captured on a livestream:

• the ADORABLE Scottish couple next to us with the guy being THE biggest harrie—knew every word, every drum fill, every 1-2-3-4…his girlfriend was a sweetheart too but just may have been the lesser into Harry between the two lol—we hugged goodbye and I hope they have a wonderful life ❤️

• the absolute shock of hurrying back from the bathrooms (such as they were 😬) while I Wanna Dance With Somebody was playing and seeing like…nobody….dancing. The disrespect!!!!

• the fact that About Damn Time and 24K Magic were the favorites from Annie Mac’s set that’s RIGHT! YAY AMERICA!!!!!! Idk some other songs played that I guess people liked or whatever but let’s be real

• if you have seen a pic of Harry in his favorite little brown leisurewear up at the castle you can thank…I want to say justharried? Might’ve been the mister who originally spotted him? but it was 1000% justharried who played Paul Revere and soon the entire crowd was staring at him. He moved his arm in a gesture that was NOT a wave but looked at the start like it possibly COULD have been a wave and literally the whole crowd started waving at him…it was so cute but needless to say he retreated soon after before re-emerging for Mitch’s set

• During Fine Line I looked at aggressively friendly and she was crying and then I of course immediately cried as I do and then we swayed and cried and it was just…a moment. Telling myself that things will be alright has become very difficult in my life these past few years and it felt both cathartic and bittersweet and just…all the things ❤️

• My entire posse collaborating to get my feet OUT of my shoes and IN to cantquitu’s extra flip-flops she’d brought along (a size too big for her but two sizes too small for me—before you start picturing me as Sasquatch or something I wear a very normal size US 8!) which genuinely felt SO much better and I don’t think I’d have made it back otherwise, thank you ❤️

And I’ve thought of so many funny things to say but tumblr crashed the first time I wrote this and I had to redo it again and I lost it so just know, it was worth every bit of blood (and yes there was blood), sweat (soooo much sweat) and tears (Tam’s fault!!) and I’d do it all over again no question!!

[oph3liatlou]

--- THE SHADOW WARRIOR series

CHAPTER THREE; Welcome to Wakanda

paring(s); recovering!buckybarnes x oc!victoriastark

warnings; none

word count; 1,180

proofread?; yes

summary; In the depths of Africa, the mysterious nation of Wakanda has reached out to the outside world for help. A mission has been set in place for Victoria Stark, to save Bucky Barnes - the former brainwashed assassin - from his past self. Can she rescue him from HYDRA's grips as the world watches and waits or, will he forever be lost to the shadows?

The Quinjet smoothly glides through the sky, taking you closer to your final destination.

"ETA to Wakanda is 3 hours and 57 minutes." Friday informs Victoria, "Would you like a beverage or snack?"

She slid her seat back, perching her feet on the dashboard - avoiding the buttons as she had already put the jet in autopilot. "Aw Friday, you spoil me."

The air in the Quinjet remains crisp and cool as you relax, your feet casually resting on the dashboard. Friday's voice, as ever, remains calm and measured. "I don't 'spoil' you Victoria," she responds, her tone tinged with a hint of gentle teasing. "I merely anticipate your needs as per my programming."

Victoria shakes her head with a laugh. "Always so humble too." She was always this sarcastic, even to AI.

"Ah, sarcasm..." Her voice carries a hint of dry wit. "A language more complex than any programming." There's a pause as if Friday's  pondering the nuances of human humor. "Tell me, should I add sarcasm to my repertoire? I could begin by making a dry comment about your shirt choice."

The hum of the Quinjet, your comfortable perch, and the banter with Friday make the journey seem less arduous.

Victoria scoffed. "What-" She was never surprised with banter, but when it was with an artificial intelligence it was a bit shocking. Realization hit her. "Did my dad update you this morning, just to sass me during the mission?"

There's a brief hesitation before Friday responds, a humorous inflection in her voice. "Ah, you have discovered my new subroutine. Indeed, Mr Stark added a bit of humor to my programming, with the specific purpose of 'sassing you' during the mission. He thought it might add 'a touch of entertainment' to potentially stressful situations."

She shook her head with a chuckle, leaning out towards the windshield to look at the clouds. "No stressful situations this mission, Friday." Victoria reassured. "I'll take a drink now, though."

The Quinjet continues its smooth journey, and the clouds outside the windshield float lazily by. Friday's voice fills the cabin as he responds to your request. "Certainly, Victoria," she says, a touch of humor still in her tone. "What beverage would you like? Coffee, tea, or perhaps something more... daring, like a 'Stark-tini'?"

"A what?" She questioned, playing with the air vents. "You totally just made that up."

"Ah, a 'Stark-tini.' It was Mr Stark's idea, of course." Friday responds with a touch of amusement. "It's a mix of vodka, rosemary-infused syrup, and a hint of lemon. Quite the concoction. However, I assure you, it is a real drink."

The hum of the vents matches the hum of the Quinjet, creating a constant white noise that fills the cabin. Victoria shook her head. "Sounds gross, buddy." With her tone, she sounded just like her father. "I'll take a coffee."

"A prudent choice, especially for someone operating under sleep deprivation." She states bluntly. "A cup of black coffee, coming right up."

The Quinjet's automatic dispenser whirs dutifully, filling a cup with steaming, black coffee. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the cabin. "I'm not sleep deprived!" She grunted. A robot hand comes to Victoria's side to hand her the coffee, before it's entire arm falls off. She stares at the ground with a sigh. "What are you doing?" She glanced back at the robot helper, definitely not as smart as Friday.

"Ah, pardon me," Friday interjects, noticing the robot's mishap. "It seems J.A.N.E. is struggling with stability."

Jane, a robotic companion known for her endearing clumsiness, struggles to pick up the fallen robotic arm. Her mechanical limbs move in an uncoordinated manner, attempting and failing to reattach the arm. The situation is both amusing and slightly chaotic.

Victoria sighs and gets up. She grabs the metal arm and holds it in place on the robot. Her hand glows a fiery orange colour - welding the arm back on with her fingers.

Victoria's fiery touch seamlessly reattaches the robotic arm back onto Jane's body. The heat of the welding creates a momentary hiss of steam before cooling, leaving behind a perfect joint. As the procedure completes, Jane's head swivels towards Victoria, tilting with a mix of gratitude and confusion.

Meanwhile, Friday, with her ever-present calm demeanor, adds, "Well, it appears Jane's balance has certainly improved. Perhaps fire welding is the secret to her stability, huh?" Though, Victoria shook her head. "The ball joint was loose." She explained, sitting back down in her chair. "How much longer now?"

"Jane's maintenance will be noted for future adjustments," Friday responds, her voice as steady as ever. "Currently, we have approximately 45 minutes until we reach Wakanda."

Victoria nods. "Cool, wake me up then." And with that, she put her legs back on the dashboard and closed her eyes.

As the 45 minutes elapse, Friday's voice gently breaks into the tranquility of the cabin.

"Ms Stark," she says softly, "we have reached our destination. We're in the airspace over Wakanda."

Victoria stirs and sits back up with a yawn. I could see the ground out the window now. "Are we in the clear to land?"

Friday responds firmly, "Yes, we're clear to land." 

The Quinjet gracefully descends, its engines whining softly as it prepares to touch down in the heart of Wakanda. Outside the window, the landscape unfolds, revealing lush greenery, towering mountains, and a high-tech city that blends seamlessly with its natural surroundings. The Quinjet comes to a soft landing on a designated platform, signifying the beginning of your mission.

The doors of the Quinjet opened, and Victoria stepped out - though she froze when the Dora Milaje pointed spears at her. "Uhm, you guys didn't get the memo?" She sassed.

The Dora Milaje, ever-vigilant and disciplined, held their spears tautly as they regarded Victoria's arrival. Their faces remained stoic, betraying no emotion. "Identify yourself," one of the Dora Milaje demanded, her tone unwavering. "And state your purpose here in Wakanda."

Victoria opened her arms as if it was supposed to be obvious. as to who she was. "Victoria Stark," She started. "I'm here on a sensitive mission, with Princess Shuri."

The words 'Stark' and 'Princess Shuri' seemed to have a profound effect on the Dora Milaje. Their expressions relaxed slightly, their spears lowering slightly. The mention of these names carried a different weight in Wakanda. "Follow us," the lead Dora Milaje commanded, her voice slightly softer than before. "We will escort you to Princess Shuri immediately."

Victoria followed hesitantly and shook her head, mumbling to Friday. "Nearly got killed before I got on the grass."

Victoria moves forward, following the Dora Milaje as they guide her through the beautiful landscape of Wakanda. Soon, she finds herself standing before a towering, high-tech building where Princess Shuri awaits her arrival.

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game catch up ✨️

I'm doing some tag games & picrews I've missed 🫶🏼 and I was tagged by these dearhearts Macy @celestialmickey Cross @crossmydna Evie @energievie Laurel @lupeloto Anna @rereadanon Ling @lingy910y Cherry @too-schoolforcool Ajax @transmickey Lyle @milkovetti Vey @look-i-love-u Coralie @shinygalaxyperson Becki @francesrose3 Ri @tanktopgallavich Jay @surviving-maybe Michelle @michellemisfit Deanna @deedala Julissa @heymrspatel Paola @mishervellous Melodie @sirrudo Thanks y'all 🥰

Name: Myn

Pronouns: She/they

Where do you call home? Sydney

Favourite animal: Cats, ducks & otters i can't choose 🐈‍⬛️🦆🦦

Cereal of choice: Gosh I love american cereal I gotta say I'm now a cinammon toast crunch fiend & lucky charms used to be my fave haha

Are you a visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? Kinaesthetic/visual

First pet? A tank of fishes but I also count a black & white stray cat we took in which we named Gato & oh how i miss him

Favourite scent? Something woodsy or citrusy

Do you believe in astrology? Kinda like I believe some aspects but wouldn't take it so literally in life

How many playlists do you have on spotify/apple music? I'm not one for playlists but I do have like 8 music ones on youtube lol

Sharpies or highlighters? Hightlighters all the colours yall 🌈

A song that makes you cry:

A song that makes you happy:

and finally, do you write/draw/create? if so, use this as an opportunity to shamelessly (😉) promote yourself! Yes I draw & make crafts which you can check out on my tag myn's art 💘 I also definetly gunning to write fic omg the amount of gallavich plot bunnies I have may be in the double digits??

Picrew 1

Last week tag game tuesday ✨️

Name: Shermyn

Age: 26 (27 in 12 day!!!)

Favorite color: Pink

Beverage of choice: Yukult I shot em back like shots lmao

Do you have push notifications turned on for tumblr? I do & for some ppl's blogs too. It can be a lot lol

Opinion on fireworks? Pretty & loud 🎆

Favourite childhood toy? This stuffed bunny I had since I was a kid which I use play pretend like they were real & to pet it so softly 🥰

The store you shop at the most: uhhh maybe ubereats lol does that count 😅

Do you swear a lot? As an aussie fuck is like a brother to me

Favourite trope: Sexual attraction at first sight then falling in love

An album with no skips: Infinity on High by fall out boy

If you could play any instrument, what would you choose? something whimiscal maybe a lyra or ocarina or a steel drum

Your biggest pet peeve: Getting told I'm being disrespectful bc I have a tone that was 'hard'

Favourite time of day: Sunset

and finally, did you drink water today? Yes indeed!

Picrew 2

I'll still tag some loves if they wanna play 💘 @ian-galagher @scarcrosseduntouched @bekkachaos @sisitrip @darthvaders-wife @suchagallabitch @iansw0rld @arrowflier @milkmaidovich @auds-and-evens @callivich @mikhailoisbaby @creepkinginc @mikcrymilkovich @sleepyfacetoughguy @suzy-queued @gardenerian @sickness-health-all-that-shit @stocious @shameless-notashamed @mmmichyyy @xninetiestrendx @intotheblindinglight @skies-below @notherenewjersey @psychicskulldamage @silvanshadow

[princeofdathomir]

Hello there. I must admit, I am asking this because I lost a bet... but I am a man of my word. So. *ahem*. What is your favorite kind of beverage, Maul? Of the steeped variety, that is. I assume you drink tea?

-jmk

Indeed. There is a spiced and robust brew I learned comes from Mandalore. It is a favoured choice.