#F Comme Film

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 3: Double Penetration - Steve/Bucky

Kinktober Day 3: Double Pentration -  Steve/Bucky x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, hatefucking, threesome, nicknames, size difference, choking, lots of swearing, discussion of masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, cum swallowing no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link 

You couldn’t get away from them quick enough, feet aching with each stomp as you exited the quinjet into the Avengers tower.

Tony was waiting at the entryway, “good mission then?” he smirked, having already listened to the argument on the comms between you and the two assholes and Tony being a smug prick rushed to welcome you back to the building. He had also been the other option to go on the mission but nope, you had to draw the short straw and endure the suffering of the two super soldiers.

It wasn’t like you attended these missions in a foul mood, prepared to argue, you were always keen to follow the instructions given by Fury. However, like usual, the two men had nearly caused you to be compromised thanks to Steve’s superiority complex, putting himself directly into the middle of the action instead of following the stealth instructions. This meant that you spent more time fighting off people than trying to save the captors and by the time you were aiding them out of the hell hole they were being kept in, you were shattered and bruised. Especially as you were not able to heal as quickly as the other two, it wasn’t as simple as having a drink and walking it off before continuing with the action.

This led to a shouting match on the journey home, with Bucky backing up Steve’s actions leaving you 2 vs 1 as per usual. You were fed up following them around, nearly getting killed AGAIN because of their stupid decisions, you weren’t going to let them get away with it for much longer.

Dropping your bag onto the floor beside Tony, you huffed irritated, “I’m never going on another mission with those assholes ever again Stark, keep them out of my way”. Your feet couldn’t walk you quick enough as you rushed to the tower elevator, not stopping to listen to whatever shit Steve and Bucky had to say, relief easing your muscles as the doors finally closed and you were alone.

It was hours later when you were finally in bed, having showered, applied cream to the forming bruises on your arms and legs and had some shitty film on in the background.

Just as your eyes were dropping with exhaustion, did a firm knock sound at your door. Your heart plummeted in your chest, not having any energy to have a discussion with anyone right now.  “Yes? What do you want?” you asked dryly.

No one answered which only caused you to roll your eyes and release another exasperated sigh as you heaved your body from the bed, once again stomping to show your displeasure and hastily swinging the door open.

“Oh for fucks sake, what do you both want? I thought we agreed to debrief tomorrow?” Stood before you were the two men you least wanted to see in the world. Gone were their expensive superhero suits and instead replaced with matching grey SHIELD t-shirts that hug their muscles, along with some dark grey joggers, hair slightly damp from recent showers.

Bucky was the one to respond, chuckling deeply and rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension and displaying his obvious annoyance. “It’s not the debrief Doll, that’s not why we’re here”.

Moving your weight from one foot to another, folding your arms sternly across your chest as you moved, glancing between the two men you replied, “well, what the fuck do you want, I was just about to get some well-deserved sleep”.

Steve now inched forward, standing to his full height, making your neck strain back further to look him in the eye, “let us in, this isn’t a conversation for the corridor”.

For some reason his words sent a panic through your thoughts, he never spoke to you in that calm tone, maybe something had truly gone wrong in the mission and needed discussing.

Contemplating it for a moment and glancing behind you to check your room and to see it in an organised manner, you moved to the side, holding the door open further for them both to enter.

Steve and Bucky stepped in and you noticed the way both of their eyes flicked to every inch of your room, assessing it, even this pissed you off, it was your safe space they should stop being so nosey but you refrained from sighing again as you shut the door, turning to face them, leaning into the wood.

“Well? What is it then?”

Neither answered immediately, both still walking around the room slowly.

Bucky spoke first, but not about why he was here, “I didn’t have you as a book reader” he mumbled, hand skimming over the book you’d left open at your desk.

This time you couldn’t hold back the sigh and rolling of your eyes for what felt like the 100th time that day, “so you’ve come to my room to talk about books?”

Steve turned to you now, pointing in your direction, “there you go again, sighing like being in our presence really is some horrific burden”.

“I mean it is, I’ve not exactly kept this a secret, Rogers” you retorted, walking further into the room.

Bucky shook his head in a condescending manner. “You’ve got a real mouth on you, you know that Doll?” 

Snapping your head towards Bucky you couldn’t help the aggressive tone as you snapped, “I’ve asked you to stop calling me Doll, I’m not one of your stupid dames from the 1920s”.

Neither men responded, instead, they looked towards one another, still wandering slowly around the room before Steve settled on the edge of the bed, a sight you never thought you would see and one that you weren’t sure how to feel about, it sent a sort of thrill through you but you shook it off as he began talking.

“You know, Stark mentioned something to us after you stomped off like a child”.

You scoffed, “fuck off Rogers-”

“Let me finish. He mentioned something that we initially shrugged off, in fact, it sort of repulsed us at first but the more we thought about it, the more it started to make sense”.

Steve left you pondering on his statement, “well? What did Stark suggest?”

You watched as Steve stood, taking strong steps towards you, distracting you from Bucky as he too stepped closer from behind. It wasn’t until they stood only a step away that you became a little apprehensive, neck once again straining to look up at the blonde.

“He suggested that we all needed a god, hard, fuck to get over whatever tension there is between us”.

You laughed. Hard. Like really belly laughed until tears were dripping from the corner of your eyes. You had also expected both of them to laugh as well at the ridiculous notion that had been presented to you but they both were watching you with hard expressions. “Wait, you aren’t joking? You can’t be fucking serious, do you really think I want to touch either of you? What a joke.”

Bucky’s cool metal hand was quick as he cupped your throat, cutting off your laughter, his grip hard enough to have you struggling against him but still be able to suck in small breaths. “What the fuck are you doing Barnes?”

Steve began tutting, “No, here’s the thing, you are going to listen to us for once”, he raised his hand to grip your cheeks so that your mouth smushed together so you reached up to hold onto his thick wrist, hoping to ease the grip he had but of course, he didn’t budge. It also didn’t help the situation that you were dressed for bed in only an oversized t-shirt and underwear.

“You have been a pain in our sides since you joined the team, but, we won’t take away that you are an asset on these missions but that doesn’t explain the reason as to why you decided to fight us tooth and nail with every single fucking thing that we do”.

Steve took a breath to calm himself before continuing, “now when Stark said his stupid idea we both brushed him off, but then we thought about it more and more. The way the tension was always thick in the air when the three of us are together, the way my cock twitches in the shower when I think about you in that uniform of yours. We all clearly just need to get things off of our chest or at least…get each other off”.

His lips smirked up as you contemplated this. But surely they couldn’t be serious right? This had to be some big practical joke… but then again, you couldn’t deny the initial attraction that you had when you’d first seen them. I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to Captain fucking America and the Winter Soldier? They were tall, handsome, incredibly strong, you couldn’t help the schoolgirl crush the first time you’d been introduced to them.

However, after spending more time with them and seeing their arrogance and self-righteousness attitude, you’d ignored that impulse that had struck through you. So no, there was no way that you were actually contemplating this, he had to be making this up.

You were about to try and shove him off again but as your eyes dropped low, you could see the very prominent and remarkably sizeable shape that had formed in his joggers, maybe that serum did more than grow them in height and strength.

Steve caught you staring at his erection, glancing wickedly up to Bucky behind you as he stepped closer, both of their bodies now touching yours so that you could now feel Bucky’s firm rod being prodded into your lower back.

Ok so they were both definitely into this and your mind was racing, images flashing through your mind as to the potential of whatever it was that they were asking for, and your body betrayed your strong willpower as arousal hummed through and in between your legs, causing you to rub your thighs together to ease the tension.

The blonde noticed, his eyes lowering to watch before glazing back towards your face with half-lidded eyes, his pupils widely dilated with arousal.

Pushing on his wrist that was still firmly gripping your cheeks, he let go as you tried to speak with confidence, “fine, if we do this, it doesn’t mean that I’ll stop hating you guys because I still fucking do, but I’ll do whatever it is that you want to do”.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “not quite what we were hoping to hear. It’s not just what we want to do, I need you to say it’s what you want as well, otherwise, we’re walking straight out of here and not returning and you can continue to think about us whilst in the shower, rubbing between your legs, shouting our names like our super soldier serum can’t hear between floors at just what you do after a mission”.

Your cheeks were burning hot, it had only been a few occasions that you’d done this, you just felt so wound up that you needed to relieve the tension and they both just happened to be the first people you thought of whilst masturbating.

“Fine Rogers, I want this ok? So hurry up and fuck me so I can kick you both out of my room”.

Steve chuckled darkly, squaring his shoulders as he looked above your head towards Bucky and gave a quick nod in his direction.

Bucky’s metal arm finally released your neck, allowing you to take a deep breath in for only a second before you were having his hands grip your thighs, lifting you up until you were folded up against Bucky’s chest, legs now spread in his grip. Scared that you might fall, you reached behind to grip the back of Bucky's head, pulling on his shoulder-length hair.

Steve took a step back, admiring the view before him, and without wasting another moment, he gripped your underwear in two places and effortlessly ripped them in half, chucking the offending material somewhere over his shoulder, now leaving you completely exposed to him.

“Even though you are the fucking bane of my life, I’ve always wanted to do this”, his voice was dark and gruff as he spoke, face inching forward before finally pouncing onto your moistening cunt. Your shout for euphoria made your ears ring from the volume but you couldn’t help it as he didn’t hold back at all, eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue delved deep between your folds, making sure not to miss a single nerve ending, spending specific time to push it into your eager hole, loving how he knew the exact spot to flick his tongue to have your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder. He then spent time concentrating on your clit, kneading it with his tongue, rotating in circles, sucking it into his mouth, everything so deliciously pleasurably that you were pulling Bucky’s hair harsher, shout out as it all came crashing down, the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

Steve released your clit slowly, looking up at you with hungry eyes as you tried to regain your breathing, the man definitely knew what he was doing with his tongue that's for sure. Tapping on Bucky’s head, he understand that you wanted to be put down, slowly easing you to your feet.

“My turn”, you seductively whispered, dropping to your knees, ignoring the pinch of pain from the bruises that were on your knees from the mission as you looked up expectedly, mouth wide open and ready.

Both men eased their cocks out of their joggers, leaving the material halfway down their delicious thighs, hands tossing themselves off as they down at you.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to see you on your knees like this” Bucky explained as he directed you to his cock, pointing it in your face. You were mesmerised by the sheer size of them both, thick and long, it had your mouth watering and also cunt pulsing in anticipation.

Reaching forward you gripped the base of Bucky, making sure to hold his eye contact as you licked along the underside of his cock, wetting it before sucking on his tip and enjoying the way he sucked in a breath at the sensation.

You were only able to take half of his cock to the back of your throat before you were gagging, so you made sure to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as you moved up, enjoying the salty taste of him. Reaching out with your hand, you gripped onto Steve’s cock, not wanting him to feel lonely as you were able to suck off Bucky and toss off Steve at the same time, loving the sensation of having two of the world's biggest heroes in front of you, falling apart as you used your body.

As tears started to form in your eyes due to gagging over Bucky’s length, you pulled off and started to suck Steve’s cock, alternating between both men’s cock with your mouth or hand. The duo were groaning, hands on the back of your head to hold you there causing strings of saliva to dribble down your chin, mixing with the tears that were flowing down your face from the stimulations

As you tried to take Steve as far as you could into your mouth, the other hand gripping onto Bucky’s member so that it tensed, Steve finally tapped your cheek. Pulling off him, he signalled for you to stand but your knees were wobbly from being in that position so he effectively picked you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to the bed.

He placed you in the centre of your unmade bed, pulling off his clothes to match Bucky who had already stripped off. As they stood there watching you lean up on your forearms to inspect their every move, Steve asked, “who do you want first, me or Bucky?”

Smirking up at them, you responded, “why do I have to only pick one when I could have you both”. With that you turned on the bed, lying face first and lifted your arse into the air, presenting yourself to the two of them.

Bucky whistled at the sight, “you really think you can take us both?”

“Oh I know I can take you both, now hurry up and fuck me already”.

Bucky chuckled, “always so demanding Doll”, he knelt on the edge of the bed, pulling your leg back causing you to slide and then turning you so you were once more on your back. Looking down at you with an eyebrow raised he asked in a deepened voice, “What? Not going to chastise me for calling you Doll?”

Scoffing you refrained from rolling your eyes, “there's no way I’m having a go at you right now, not when you stand in the way of providing me with orgasms, Barnes”.

“Hmm”, he leaned over you, forearms resting on either side of your head, his mouth close to yours that you thought he might kiss you but he didn’t, instead he shifted his hips closer. “See, I think you secretly love that name, shall we test that theory?”

“What are you-”

Your words became caught in your throat as he began thrusting into your cunt, slowly and tentatively as to not hurt you, doing a good job at really stretching you out, feeling as if you were nearly at your max already but he kept going and going until finally he brushed against your cervix.

“Fuck” you cursed loudly, eyes rolling back now for a completely different reaction as he allowed your time to adjust until finally, his voice snapped you out of the blissful state.

“So how are you feeling… Doll?” Your pussy squeezed around his cock at the nickname, revealing another one of your well-kept secrets that you did, in fact, enjoy him calling you that name.

Bucky’s face was alight with amusement, loving that he had discovered this about you, “I had the suspicion that the name was turning you on, is that why you so desperately fought us to not call you that, was it because you were becoming aroused?”

“Fuck you, Barnes”.

“Actually, I think it’s more fuck you, Doll” he eased his cock out before sliding back in again. Bucky’s hips snapped into yours, starting off slow before building momentum, your cunt clinging to his cock desperately with each thrust.

It turned you on further to think that Steve was standing just beside Bucky watching you being fucked and with the hyperstimulation of his girthy cock and the fact that this was even happening, your orgasm came on quickly and suddenly. You only just had time to warn Barnes that you were cuming, hands grabbing onto his back as your cunt convulsed around him, squeezing him thoroughly.

Not giving you any time to come down from your high, the brunette whilst still balls deep, turned you both over so he was now underneath and you were now lying on his chest. Tiredly, you looked over your shoulder, smiling as Steve climbed onto the bed and remained behind you.

“Come on then Rogers, let’s see what you’ve got to offer”. Steve smirked at your taunting, reaching to your lips to press his fingers against them, hoping you would open them which you did, and sucked on them, coating the two digits with plenty of spit.

Pulling them out, he aimed them towards your puckered hole, easing one finger in at a time, making sure to thoroughly stretch you out, and adding three more fingers until he was satisfied that you would be able to take him without hurting yourself.

All the while Bucky had remained sheathed in your cunt, still thick and hard, you guessed that this had something to do with the serum that he could stay like this for so long. Without any further waiting, Steve’s cock brushed against your asshole, his warm tip taking its time to tease before being eased in. You felt your body trying to tense at being stretched from the second hole but you willed it to relax, and inch by inch disappeared into your hole.

Just as you felt like you were going to explode from fulness, he stopped, breathing heavily himself. “You’re so fucking tight” he muttered between breaths. The sensation was extremely intense, all of your vulnerable nerves were being touched in both the front and the back.

Steve’s hand fell into your hair once he had composed himself, pulling back harshly, effectively lifting you up from Bucky’s chest so that you had to lean your hands on his pecks whilst his hands rested against your breasts, which were still covered in your oversized shirt.

As Steve began to move, making sure to work with Bucky’s movements, you couldn’t believe how incredible pleasuring it felt, it was almost too much as each graze of someone's cock had you twitching to cum. 

It was an endless cycle of smacking hips together, orgasming hard and then them continuing. You weren't even sure how many times your pussy had convulsed around them both but by this point you had more dribble leaking down your chin and your mind was filled with white noise. The boys noticed that you seemed to be nearing your end and willed themselves to stop holding back their own orgasms.

“Fuck I’m going to cum” Steve stuttered first, pulling out at the same time as Bucky and man-handling you onto your back on the bed. You couldn’t even feel your legs, you had been well and truly fucked as the two super soldiers knelt over your face, tossing themselves off vigorously.

Noticing their plan, in your deliriously fucked out brain you managed to open your mouth and stick your tongue out in preparation for their cum. Steve was the first to shoot his load into your mouth, not missing a single drop as you eagerly licked your lips to make sure his salty goodness was drunk. Bucky followed him soon after, also cuming in your mouth but having to catch a drip with his thumb, pushing his white seed back into your mouth which you eagerly suck and drank down.

Closing your eyes, you were completely exhausted, only just being able to hear the boys beginning to redress themselves. Smiling to yourself, you managed to croak out, voice laced with tiredness, “could you both kindly fuck off and close the door behind you”.

Both of them chuckled as they exited without another word, leaving you to sleep peacefully.

#steve rogers #bucky #bucky smut #bucky one shot #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #steve / bucky #marvel smut #marvel #mine*

[hollybell51]

If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding. 

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip. 

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?” 

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened. 

“That was fucking insane!” you burst. 

“Are you ok?” 

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” 

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers. 

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back. 

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.” 

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.” 

“A bullet graze!” 

“It’s fine.” 

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.” 

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !” 

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics. 

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes. 

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another silence, though less tense. 

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest. 

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso. 

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–” 

“No, (Y/N)–” 

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall. 

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast. 

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled. 

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?” 

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own. 

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–” 

No one’s coming. 

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.” 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!” 

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear. 

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him. 

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should. 

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards. 

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed. 

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle. 

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back. 

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath. 

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you. 

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure. 

“(Y/N).” 

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive. 

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.” 

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…” 

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.” 

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

 You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know. 

“For yelling at me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–” 

“All that matters. You said.” 

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle. 

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.” 

The frown deepened. “Hm?” 

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real. 

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely. 

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek. 

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up. 

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.” 

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his. 

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too. 

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition. 

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt. 

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything. 

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt. 

“Huh?” 

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.” 

“All’s fair in love and war.” 

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose. 

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?” 

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine. 

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?” 

Again, “Yeah.” 

You smiled. “What about me?” 

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.” 

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it. 

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity. 

“What else?” you asked. 

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.  

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys. 

“Can–” 

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair. 

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.” 

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.” 

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit. 

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders. 

“Hm?” 

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.” 

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?” 

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face. 

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises. 

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–” 

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad. 

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–” 

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders. 

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again. 

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail. 

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification. 

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?” 

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.” 

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?” 

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again. 

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap. 

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand. 

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.” 

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?” 

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?” 

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.” 

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–” 

“Insane?” 

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?” 

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?” 

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.” 

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again. 

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?” 

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other. 

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.” 

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined. 

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece. 

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.” 

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.” 

“Hm?” 

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?” 

“(Y/N)–” 

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–” 

“In me.” 

“You sure?” 

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–” 

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter. 

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress. 

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned. 

“What?” he asked. 

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?” 

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything. 

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?” 

He nodded. 

“I still want to check them.” 

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.  

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?” 

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” 

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.” 

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?” 

“Yeah.” 

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.” 

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.” 

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.” 

“Guess I’m just that special.” 

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

[guyfieriii]

Gem Amra Kheli

Translation: Games We Play

I finally did it, you guys. A lil' drabble is what I could muster for some fluff for you guys. It's set in the same story as Young Price and Bluebird.

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader

It started as something to pass the time. 

A stakeout wherein hours felt endless, like watching that drop of water dangling from a faucet unable to fall. You think if you kept your eyes turned away, it might surprise you — but lo and behold, it’s still fucking there. 

It makes you fidget. The waiting around for something, anything, to happen. It’s a weird kind of limbo to be stuck in. You’re on edge, as you often are, consciously aware and on the look for seemingly nothing. A harrowing trap in the betwixt and between tension and routine.

The consistent reverberation of the air conditioning that might as well have been a prop. The spice laden bouquet wafting upwards from the chaiwala on the pavement around the corner with his recurrent chorus of ‘Kichu chā chai?’ to everyone who passed by. 

“Just try it.” He insisted. 

You made a face at the terracotta cup he held between his thumb and forefinger — it probably held a little shy of three sips worth inside. 

“There’s a kettle in the corner if I want tea, John. You didn’t have to—”

“Try it.”

That was a week ago, and your kettle remained untouched.  

“Blue.” He began, his hand firmly planted on the back of yours— you were unknowingly peeling off the edges of your nicotine patch.

“Hmm?” You shook it off, smoothing over the frayed edges of the acetate film. 

Another day of nothing and no one. Not counting the ensemble of transient strangers at your feet, just going about their day. Too random to find a pattern in, not haphazard enough to find any interest in surveying. 

You watched the sun descend from its perpendicular position to half-mast, pulling with it a polychrome of burnt sienna and honeyed marmalade. The mismatched rooftops across your horizon interrupted its gleam in blocks of tan and taupe. 

You tried to count them all.

“Play a game with me.” He takes a drag of his cigar, a shameless grin etched across his face.

“Nasty little habit you started there, John.”

“Just as you quit yours, love.”

“Fuckin’ prick.” 

You resist the urge to inhale, let the murky smoke invade your lungs. The scent of it is a spiritous mix of all things provocative.

You glance down at your worn out patch and it mocks you back.

You might just—

“Go on, then.” 

“Timor-Leste” His voice crackles over comms, as you make your way through the streets of Leipzig. 

“Dili.” You pull your little notepad out from underneath the breast strap of your vest, and a pencil run down to its last couple inches, from the lip of John’s beanie which now rests on your head. “You’ve asked me that one before, John.” 

“Doesn’t count then. You better not add that one to the tally.”

“Already have.”

“Cheat.”

That summer evening in Calcutta inaugurated a tradition of you parading your geographical prowess. Whenever you grew listless, and the silence grew too comfortable, he would ask. Eventually you began to keep a running score, once yours and his intrinsic competitiveness seeped in. 

So far, you’ve only lost twice. 

You haven’t decided what prize the grand victor would earn. It could be anything — he said as much. 

“Can’t have it be a competition without something to compete for.”

“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure. Since I’ll win.”

“Bit naive to drop the chance to ask me for anything you want, love.”

You already know what you want, but—

“Remind me never to lose to you, John. Christ.” 

“Lesotho.” He starts again.

It takes you a minute before you answer, with some uncertainty. “Maseru?”

“That a question or the answer.”

“Am I right?”

He confirms eventually with a gruff affirmative. 

You peruse the pages of your now-filled notepad, the edges of it curving upwards — 154 tallies for you, and 42 for him. 

Amongst those are little messages swapped between you and him. A limerick, now and then, or maybe a reminder. A cartoonish sketch of him on the top right corner of a page which he’s since torn off. It now lives in the coin zipper of his wallet. 

As predicted, you won. 

And it was a victory rendered bittersweet by its arrival. You kept your ask simple. 

“Buy me a drink.” You said.

“I’ve bought you loads.” He countered with an expectant look. “We can do better than that.”

Yes, John. We can. 

“What would you have asked for? If you’d won.” 

“A kiss.”

“I’ll have the same, then.”

He obliged, of course. And it was everything you had imagined and then some. 

His breath still lingered with the taste of his last cigar. His lips, softer than they looked, pressed against yours in a way so chaste, you’d have thought it was his first. 

And when he finally pulled away—

“Let’s see how well you do with state capitals.”

Chaiwala - Tea Vendor

Kichu chā chai? - Do you want tea?

#john price x reader #price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price #captain john price #mw2 price #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mwii #cod mwii #mw2 #mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod:mw2 #cod imagine #cod smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic

[bloodycassian]

Keys - COD fic

6k words. Porn with plot. Ghost x F!Reader x Soap.

PinV, oral, threesome, pussyworship, fingering, slight mention of anal, cuckholding? If you squint, angst/tension, unspoken love, It's a cod fic you should know it's going to have SOME violence

NSFW, MDNI. 18+

“This better be a fucking joke, LT.” Soap’s fury over the comms made you wince. If it weren’t clear that you’d been having relations before, it sure as hell was now. The rope around your torso thankfully had enough room to allow you a deep breath. Steady. That was what you had to be right now, steady and somber. Your life and all of 141’s depended on your acting ability. And the man who now stood at your side with a gun, waiting for Ghost to begin recording. 

“It’s all fake, Johnny. Pull it together.” Ghost scolded, but took a shuddering breath himself. He didn’t like risks, especially not where a squadmate was concerned. He handed the stranger the gun.

Price’s plan seemed the only believable way to draw out the enemy. It didn’t mean you were any less nervous for the inevitable encounter with them, though. 

The video recording would be sent to a dummy receiver by Soap at a vantage point on a cliffside. intended for the enemy to intercept, a local ‘volunteer’ of the area with an empty gun was to make demands from 141, the script Price wrote sounded convincing enough while you half listened. Your eyes had been glued to the way Ghost and Soap were playing cards, bantering together in the corner while Price scribbled different threats and demands for your scene. 

Your staged captor - a man at least four inches shorter than Ghost - was more than happy to help with the money price had presented. You only hoped he’d make everything look convincing. 

“Right, let’s keep it quick. Johnny be ready for DL.”

And the scene played out. The man shouted and you let a few tears fall, flinching when he raised his voice or came close. Less than a minute total, you couldn’t imagine anything looked amiss in such a short time.

“Box office worthy, now let’s get out of here.” Price praised, handing the man the rest of the money and thanking him in his language. 

Ghost began untying you with adept hands, his gloved fingers brushing over your heated skin at times, making goosebumps rise there. 

“May have to keep this, eh?” Ghost held up the sodden gag that you’d drooled all over while the lines were read. You looked from him, to the outstretched hand.

You cocked your head to the side, and stepped closer to him. He straightened, but didn’t budge. The smirk that appears on your lips has his chest fluttering. Before he can protest, you’ve pushed the piece of cloth to his chest, winked and turned back to cleaning up the camera gear.

The hardon in his pants is painfully uncomfortable, but he was thankful that the material hid it well.

The scent of Soap’s jacket had you longing for him on the short ride away from the trailer you’d filmed inside of. You leaned back against it, hoping to agitate the smell of him from it. Beside you, behind Price, Ghost shifted while eyeing you. His hands were still on his gun but he seemed distracted. The moment Price swore and lights flashed ahead, Ghost’s head whipped to the dirt road in front of you. 

There was a bright flash a second before your face slammed into the headrest in front of you. Things went dark, your vision doubled when you finally opened your eyes again. A pounding headache set fire to your nerves, nausea overwhelming your senses. Voices were shouting, yelling something in a tongue you didn’t know, and there was Price, being hauled away. You fought against the arms that dragged you from the wreckage of the burning car, but your weakened body was already overwhelmed with the splitting pain in your head. 

“It’s alright-” A familiar accent commanded more than soothed. Ghost. He’d gotten you out, away from the enemies somehow. And he’d left Price. 

Rage simmered deep in your gut, but instead of shouting at him once he let you go, you could only vomit onto the ground, then promptly pass out. 

+

Voices prattled quickly, hushed tones and words spoken sharply through teeth. Both hard to hear, but two distinct accents. Ghost, and Soap. Both doing their apparent best to quiet their growing argument. You rise from the stained bed, gripping on to the giant hoodie that had been covering you. The smell is different from Soaps, it’s a harsher, darker smell that makes shivers crawl along your spine.

You lean against the peeling wallpaper, afraid you may fall through for a moment as you listen to the conversation.

“Then one of us leaves, the other stays with her.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lettin’ ya Simon.”

A long, long silence falls after that. You can feel the tension through the thin wall. Your head pounds, waiting for more, straining to hear if either of them have even moved. A chair creaks, and someone sighs. 

“You get to wake’r up then, have fun with that one, Johnny.” 

You rush back to the bed, making your head swim in the process, Your heart roars and an aches all over your body and between your along the bridge of your nose beings drumming in time with it. You pull the blanket over you and pretend as if you’re just waking when Soap opens the door. 

“Jobs done for me then. Good morning, beauty.” He grins wide and it melts you. You can’t help the tears that prick your eyes, the flush of heat that creeps from your throat to your cheeks at the sight of him. You couldn’t remember what exactly had happened, other than the crash and Price being dragged away. 

“Where is he?”

“Cap is halfway across the country, interrogations already in process.” Ghost appears at the door behind Soap and the latter nods slightly when your eyes dart to him, seeking reassurance. “We need t’ move, Rook.” You cringed at the nickname he’d given you when he actually started talking to you after your first year as a part of 141. Rookie. When you’d asked him why he’d not spoken to you before, he’d only shrugged and said something along the lines of wanting ot make sure you’d make it through that first year. 

“Give’r a damn minute.” Soap scolds. The lieutenant gives him a long look, the eyes shrouded by smeared eyeblack boring into the back of Johnny’s head. When Ghost drags his eyes to you, they’re just as intense but less seething. 

“You can stay, go back to a safehouse, come with us,  whatever you’d like. I wouldn’t blame you after what happened to Price. We don’t know the threats as well as we thought we did. You need to make the choice for yourself, though. We won’t order you, we can’t.”

“You can’t.” Ghost corrects. 

Your eyes narrow on him. It’s clearly a challenge, and you want to give him the same burning look he gives you. but with the pain in your nose that stretches to between your brows it makes it hard to glare.

“You-” Soap begins his counterargument, likely the same one they’d been having in the other room.

“I’ll go wherever you both go. I am not leaving Price.” You say firmly. They both look to you, and a small smile spreads across Johnny’s face. Ghost’s eyes reveal a relieved smile beneath his mask, but truthfully he’d preferred to handle the op on his own. He is competent alone, he can kill unguarded alone. When he needs to account for Soap and you… it changes him. He’s noticed it before. The hesitation, the twinge of shakiness he gets whenever he hears a grunt or shout that he recognizes. 

It makes him fucking insane. 

“Let’s load up then.” Lieutenant's orders. 

+

An icepack rests on your face for easily half the drive. Soap holds it there, then Ghost when they switch driving. They’d both argued against your insisting upon taking a turn, citing the slight swelling of your eye and what happened the last time you’d been allowed to drive in a foreign country. 

“It wasn’t that bad.” You mutter into the clip. The road goes on endlessly, the sun casting square patches of pale light from one side of the car’s interior to the other, until it ceases completely and Soap groans, rolling his neck. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but your small patch of drool is cold against Ghost’s shoulder. You bolt upright, scooting back onto your side of the bench seat as the masked man stretches beside you. Embarrassment licks at your cheeks when Soap glances back at you in the rearview. He’d surely seen you lying on the other man’s shoulder, and had politely not said a word. You only hoped that Ghost wouldn’t receive the bitter end of Soap’s jealousy later. 

“We have a room with two Queen beds, will-”

“We’ll take it.” Ghost agrees and hands over a thin stack of money before the receptionist can offer anything else.

+

Streetlights painted the inside of the bathroom in a shade of orange that had Soap’s rippling muscles seeming ever more lickable. Your hand caressed his chest while you took him deep into your mouth, reveling in the weight of him there. His head tilted back and he swore obscenities in his mother tongue. 

He returned the favor, ordering you over the edge of the tub while his tongue prodded at your hungry pussy. It’d been so long since you’d had him. With back to back missions he’d only been around for a few days max, and it was always at a safehouse where he’d only have time to clean himself, eat properly and sleep.

With Ghost being the only other operator on mission, it was a rare chance to be almost alone with Soap. You couldn't resist when his hands began their journey over your body in bed. Sure he’d woken you, but he’d done it in a way that you couldn’t complain about. You’d been grinding back against him, forcing yourself not to gasp or pant too loudly when he rubbed you in the wicked ways he knew best. When you’d had enough of his teasing, you’d dragged him to the bathroom only a door away from where Ghost slept 

He slapped your ass, and it left you hissing at him. “Are you trying to wake him up?” You whispered as he lined his cock up with your entrance. 

An animalistic moan escaped both of you when he slid in, your wet cunt stretching around his length perfectly. He muttered something in Scottish again, and you grinned. He always did this whenever he was absolutely losing himself in the experience. 

“English, MacTavish-” You gasped out, as he slid his length out, then slammed back in. He leaned down, his the weight and warmth of his chest against your back. 

“I said-” He gripped your hip hard, his nails digging in slightly to your soft skin as he thrust forward, hilting himself inside you and making your eyes roll back. “Maybe I would.”

His words leave you confused, but you’re so lost in the pleasure of his cock remaking you that the subject isn’t brought up again once you return to bed after a shower. 

+

“Let’s get fuckin’ movin’.” Ghost barks when you appear in the doorway, squinting into the blistering daylight. It’s already much too warm out, and the car’s lack of air conditioning is bound to make the final part of the drive brutal. 

“Bit grumpy today are we LT?” Soap walks with you down the few steps to the street, handing you a coffee from the lobby.

“You’d be the same if two bunnies been wakin’ you up all night.” Ghost’s reply is surly, but you see the way he glances up at you, and the way his eyes crinkle when they drag over your figure. Your heart kicks into another gear at that gaze. 

Soap huffs a laugh, and a very familiar hand pinches your ass as he walks past you, around the car. You react too slow to catch him with a smack to the chest. 

You took the backseat beside Ghost, who’d already stripped off his tac gear in favor of just a worn out T-shirt and his vest. You were all dressed quite similar, the only difference being Ghost’s lack of skull mask today, only the balaclava hiding his features, revealing his browline and impeccable brows. His hood always managed to say up somehow, like the grim reaper himself couldn’t rip it away from him. 

Since the accident, it was an unspoken rule that no one other than the driver sat in the front. Honestly, you debated doing it anyway. You were not looking forward to sitting right beside the man who’d surely heard you begging Soap for his cock the night before. You leaned your head back and sighed as the car began rolling.

Tension laced the car with each mile. Ghost hadn’t said a word, and only stared out his window the entire ride. Noon came, and it was finally his turn to drive. Soap rested against the same window, snoring softly as the sun began falling, painting the landscape in hues of orange and pink. You tried your damndest to ignore the way Ghost’s eyes seemed to always catch yours in the rearview when you tried spying on him for a change. 

“What is it that you want to say?” You demand of him when you spot a wooded area in the distance. You’re sure he’ll stop at for a break, your own legs growing restless in the back seat. You glance to Soap, making sure he’s still asleep before looking back into the rearview, at Ghost’s piercing brown eyed gaze. 

“What’d you like me to say, Rook?” There it is again, you can hear the smirk behind the nickname and it makes your temper flash. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking. You’ve been weird all day, I can practically feel the irritation on you.” It’s hard not to raise your voice at him, to shout when you’ve been so tense for the last eight hours at least. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, and you hear the leather creak beneath his grasp. “Oh is that right?” His voice is gravely, unchanged in tone but you can hear the slight irritation there in his word choice anyway. Perhaps you know him better than you thought you did. 

“Let me fix whatever the fuck-”

Soap’s snoring spikes, then he adjusts his position and he settles back against the window. The ferocity in your eyes has Ghost ready to pull the car over and really, genuinely show you exactly what he was thinking. 

“You can’t fix anything ‘bout it Rook. I don’t think Johnny’d let ‘ya anyway.” He grins, and it eases his irritation a bit. If he can joke, he can let this pass. He can get through this damn car ride without staking his claim upon you, no matter how much he’d love to. 

“What does that even mean, Ghost?”

He pulls the car off to the side of the road, dust kicking up and painting the breeze in golden light. Soap sits up quickly, his brows pulling together as he collects himself, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You watch as Ghost moves, tossing the keys to the back seat before getting out.

“Gotta piss.” He mutters. 

He’s to the opposite side of the car and into the trees before you can even get the door open. “Me too.” You say, not looking back to Soap as you exit and follow the Lieutenant. 

His footsteps are silent but his tracks are easy to follow into the pale shrub brush and trees. “Ghost tell me what the hell you’re talking about.” You call out, eyes following each of his booted steps deeper into the shrubs. How had a man so big gotten away so quickly? You cursed under your breath, scanning the small archway of thorned trees where his tracks disappeared into. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist and you’re being crushed in the next instant. Your panicked heart leaps and you thrash against the body pulling you backwards. Your legs find their mark on something, but the thick arms don’t release their hold. You’re grunting and shouting obscenities, flinging your head backwards hoping to catch a nose, but your body is still sore from the crash. 

“Relax.” The low voice isn’t a strangers. “Tell me why you left the damn car without your knife.” You nearly collapse with relief, then you’re falling, being let down by the massive man who’d already had you irritated before, but now you were furious. 

Ghost holds out his hand to help you back up from the dusty, cracked earth but you slap him away. “Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you!” You shout, panic and adrenaline still lacing your system. 

“You really want to know? You really think you can handle what's wrong with me?” He steps close, his chest heaving though you doubted lifting you took much effort for him. His eyes are searching yours, as if he can tell you whatever it is without actually saying it. God he wished he could. If it were left unspoken then maybe he’d be spared. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt.

“Just talk. It doesn’t matter if I can handle it or not-”

He’s moving then, catching your waist in his arm, leaning you back and supporting your neck with his other hand. His mask hasn’t moved, but when it collides with your lips the intent is clear. A kiss, hot and wet and packed with every unspoken want and desire that he’d had since the moment he’d met you. 

You melt to him, hands gripping his biceps, your body unintentionally responding to him with eagerness and an equal want. Your head swims. The mask tastes the same way he smells, the cool metallic, and wild scent of whatever deodorant he wears. The unmistakable hint of firearms is practically a piece of him, and he has you wanting more of it two seconds into the embrace. His lips are skilled, even though the thick cloth, he’s lining himself between your lips with ease. You could only imagine what it’d be like without the damn thing on.

There’s a snap of branches and you both stiffen. Your hooded eyes track his gaze, to where Soap stands frozen, his brows high and mouth slightly agape. 

+

Ghost supports you while you right yourself dizzily, then steps away. 

“Johnny I-” He begins to explain what, you don’t know. 

“D’ya tell him?” Soap is staring at you, and the question has you searching your memory for what he’s talking about. 

Ghost is deathly silent, you’re not sure if he’s even breathing beside you. 

“Tell him what?” You say, and clear your throat. The heat in your cheeks is nearly painful. 

Soap’s gaze darkens, and he lowers his chin. You know that look. You know exactly what that look leads to, and it makes your throat dry out instantly. “English?” He hints, his rounded accent making the simplest words sound exquisite.

Your mind spins, recalling the night before.

“Are you trying to wake him up?”

“Maybe I would.” 

Your pulse skyrockets. “I-” You stammer, glancing between the two men. “I didn’t.” You admit, shame lacing the words. 

Soap’s hand falls to his pocket, his thumb hooking there and resting. Ghost tenses, but he doesn’t move otherwise. 

“Johnny-” Ghost tries again to salvage something from the interaction, but you cut him off. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed, though.” You lower your gaze on Soap, scanning over him, how his muscles look so damn good in what he’s wearing, how sexy he is freshly woken. 

His tongue flicks over his lower lip and the mix of adrenaline and arousal nearly has your knees buckling at the sight. The hand in his pocket palms his cock and adjusts his pants as he slowly walks over, glancing to Ghost as he does. “LT, I’m not opposed to sharing.” He says, voice low in the way you only know when you’re alone together. Your body shudders at the tone, but you keep yourself in check, your muscles tensing and heart galloping as you glance between the two men. 

Ghost eyes him for a long while, then glances to you, his hands going to rest on his vest. “Y’cant make that choice for her, though Johnny. Ain’t no fun sharing a toy then.” Just the way Ghost says it has your body heating, readying itself to be just that, a toy for them both. 

“Did I seem opposed to your kiss, Simon?” You narrow your eyes at him, challenging him just as he had to you this morning ago about coming on this mission at all.

His massive figure is all you can see when he steps closer, craning his head down to look at you. “Wasn’t long enough for me to tell.” 

“Let’s see it then, LT.” Soap is grinning, you can hear it in his voice. “The mask-”

“Stays on, Johnny.” Ghost’s answer is gruff, then he’s upon you again. This time though, you take it in thoroughly, no longer overwhelmed with the adrenaline you’d had before. Now, all that fueled you was the desire that they both had injected into your veins. 

It’s heated and needy and wet. You can feel the heat and pulsing of his cock against your stomach when he pulls you flush to his body. His hands tangle in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. The sound of his sharp inhale only drives your need further. He pulls away to nibble at your neck, then down, pulling your shirt aside as he moves.

“Don’t think it’ll be when you get a sight of her pussy.” Soap’s words are accompanied by him sliding up behind you, his hands placed just where he’d mentioned. Ghost groans into the kiss he places atop your breast, and it leaves you wanting more, more, more.

You can feel Soap’s cock as well, slotted between your cheeks as he watches Ghost work you from over your shoulder. You catch his lips with yours and he rolls his hips forward, groaning into your mouth. “This is what you wanted?” You ask, hooking your arms around his neck and giving Ghost full access to your body. 

“Fuckin-” He garbles something in Scottish again, and before you can correct him Ghost has your pants around your thighs, exposing your thin panties to the cooling air. He breathes out a long sigh and begins worshiping you there, soaking your underwear with his saliva. Soap’s hands twist your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breasts while he grinds into you from behind. 

“Smell fuckin’ amazing sweetheart-” Ghost’s voice is somehow even more gravelly than normal, and Soap steps away for a moment before returning to you. He’s stripped off his pants, and slides himself between your thighs. The sight of him on his knees before you is something of a sick pleasure, knowing just how deadly, just how powerful he is and he’s here before you so vulnerable. Any final pieces of your inhibition melt away at the sight of him.

“Get’er up Johnny-” Ghost is hooking your legs over his shoulders, and the man somehow delicately rips your panties apart with his two hands. The only pain a snap of elastic against your hip before he’s got his mouth buried into you, lapping and sucking at you with a hunger you’d only experienced when Soap returned after long weeks away. The shock of his tongue darting at you instead of the dull sensation of the mask pulls heady gasps from your lips while your thighs lock together around his head. He loses himself in the sensation of it, the crushing against his head makes his efforts double. He’s consumed by you, everything he sees, smells, wants in this life right now is you. His breathing gets thin for a moment, and he truly, fully wishes for this moment to be how he dies, if he ever could. 

The only damn reason he holds your damned thighs away from his head is so he can hear the sweet song you’re making for him while he drowns himself in your pussy. He flattens his tongue out, reveling in your taste. He holds you steady for a few wicked moments so he can play with you, make your hips buck and roll, then lets you fuck his face while he watches, starting at your flushed cheeks and reddened lips while you bounce on him. Christ, he hardly needs to do any work, he just supports your rear while you grind down on to him and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen - that he’s ever tasted.

He has to stop himself though, not wanting to be the man stealing all the pussy worship, he pulls away though it feels like pulling himself from the heavenly embrace of a god. He allows your shaky legs down slowly, taking pride in the work he’s done thus far. Your legs quake and you lean back against Soap for support. Ghost- god, he heaves his middle finger inside you, rocking it softly while he grinds the palm of his hand against your clit, allowing you to desperately flex on it for the friction you desperately crave. 

“You weren’t fuckin’ kiddin’ Johnny.” He says, planting rough, wet kisses with his sodden mask along your stomach and up to your breasts until he reaches your lips, and catches your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “She’s got the sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted.” He eyes you, his pupils enormous from what you can see in the growing darkness. His eyeblack has worn off slightly, making his eyes stand out more where his skin shines though. 

When he rubs his thumb over your lower lip, you jerk your head and catch it between your teeth, and watch his expression change. His tongue flicks over his lip, and his brows narrow. He can see the challenge you’re presenting, daring him to go further with you. To what, to punish you? He could only hope that was what this was. He could only pray that this would ever happen again and he would have a chance to. But he won’t - not until Soap encourages him to. 

He eyes you for a moment, observing the cocky grin upon your lips. He’s not one to be shown up, and for a moment his competitive self takes over. He takes a breath, then lifts the mask just enough to uncover his lips. He ignores the widening of both you and Soap, focusing on the idea that now he could fully taste you and the man whos cock has been rubbing against the back of his hand while he finger-fucks you.

He smiles, and flicks his tongue out over his lower lip. That wipes the grin right off your face, but he’s not satisfied yet.

So he catches the back of Johnny’s neck and pulls him forward, forcing their lips together in a hungry kiss full of tongues and teeth. The thumb between your teeth flexes down, meeting your tongue with further competition. Soap groans when he tastes you on Ghost’s mouth, a bead of precome sliding over the thick head of his cock.

Your mouth opens at the sight of them fully enjoying each other, setting Ghost’s finger free from your teeth. Ghost grins wide when he pulls away, knowing exactly what he’s done to you based off how much you’re squeezing the digit filling your aching pussy. Strings of his and Soap’s saliva dribble from his chin and then he brings his beautifully even lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth and thrusting his fingers rhythmically inside you.

There’s an unspoken war going on between you and Simon, but you’re not sure what it is. Your only thought is that you need to win. So you grab his cock through his pants and pump it once, twice before his hand slips from your pussy and he’d captured your wrist in his enormous, capable hands that you can’t stop staring at. The thick digits that were just making your core a living fire. You shudder at the thought of them entering you again. 

Soap laughs at the interaction and pulls his cock free from between your thighs, turning you to face him instead. “My lovely, filthy girl with m’ best mate.. It’d infuriate most men but I can’ stop watchin’ you touch ‘im.” He says between kisses all across your face and neck and ears. 

You hear laces being ripped free from their boots, then the click of a belt and rustling of clothes. Ghost returns, the delicious warmth of his cock pressing against your back. There’s still the friction of his tac vest and shirt, something you desperately wished to rip off of him. Soap’s is still on as well, and you can’t help but pout a little. Another unspoken rule of the moment, apparently. 

Simon caresses your hip with a hand and when you arch back to meet his touch, Johnny thrusts his tongue in your mouth and guides you forward, then down to the ground. Simon follows, hissing when he gets to see you fully on display for him. Johnny guides you to his cock, pulling your hair out of your face while he watches Simon admire you.

“Fuckin’ perfect ‘int she?” Simon praises, his fingers sliding over your soaked folds, then pumping the wetness along his cock. God he can’t believe how close he is already. He bites the inside of his cheek when he slides himself gingerly forward, hissing when he finally fully feels you. The tightness, the heat of your arousal - all of it makes his head swim.

He feels incredible. The stretch of Simon’s cock as he slowly enters you is absolute. It’s final, it’s fucking everything you’d wanted and needed from the moment he’d kissed you. He takes the first few thrusts slow, leisuring in the sight and sounds you made, muffled by Johnny’s cock in your mouth. And god, he tasted amazing. Sweat and salt and the essence of him, the safety net in the back of your mind that told you this was all okay. 

The safety of both of them. The bliss of only pleasure without giving orders. They were both here for you, to use you. To be with you. Being desired by Johnny was more than enough, but having both of them made your mind catapult into bliss as Simon started pulling you back into him, his fingers digging into your hips in a remarkable balance of pain-pleasure that had you squeezing his cock and drooling on Johnny’s. 

Thankfully the man before you held you up by the hair and jaw, thrusting in time with Simon, biting his lip when you swirled your tongue over the underside ridge of his member. A hand left your hip, jarring the rhythm for a few strokes before Johnny’s cock twitched inside your mouth, renewing the salty mix of him.  “Do it, Simon.” He encouraged. 

With the Lieutenant's next thrust, his hand cracked against your asscheek, and you moaned too much to keep Johnny’s cock in your mouth. Drool fell to the ground and you went to your elbows, arms shaking too badly to hold yourself up any longer. Your pussy clenched around him, drawing a low grown from Simon, along with muttered curses through his teeth. His thrusts becoming more erratic as you raised your ass higher in the air, giving him a new angle. The keening deep inside you was growing impatient, desperate. The next thrust was deeper, more deliberate with where he angled himself, and with the next he was rutting himself against the spot inside you that made your mind go blank.

Simon was hardly a help while Johnny moved, sliding over to be at your side and rub at your clit. He took in the sight of Simon fucking you, watching your lips grip the other man’s cock. He nearly came from the knowledge alone that he knew just how Simon’s cock felt at this moment. He pulled at his own member, flicking his fingers over your clit in a more determined pattern.

 “John-” Your words were a plea, and when your hand went to his wrist to stop him, it was instead caught by Simon’s. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ come sweetheart, don’t stop him.” Ghost’s voice was nearly unrecognizable. And that wasn’t a request for you to stop. It was an order, it was the leader that you followed into the darkness and beyond. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the exquisite, quick approaching orgasm that loomed just a few touches - a few thrusts away. He released your wrist and adjusted his position, his foot going beside your knee so he was propped up higher, pounding into you at a downward angle and making your eyes roll back at the feeling of being so fucking full.

“I-” You could hardly make the words work, but Johnny was right at your ear a second later. “I don’t want this to be over.” You whined.

A sweet smile pulled over his lips, then he was at the cusp of your ear, making shivers dance along your arms and base of your neck. “Don’t think we’ll ever be done with ‘ya.” He promised, then returned his hand to your clit. 

You weren’t sure if you’d even need it. Simon’s thrusts quickened and with every one of them he was pushing against that soft spot inside your walls, every one of them making you see stars. “That’s it-” Johnny’s fingers dipped to the wetness that both you and Simon were making, drawing the mix up and to your clit where he played over you with flattened fingers darting back and forth. The heat inside you wasn’t just that any longer, it was molten need that had Simon’s cock coated. That had Johnny’s hand sliding easily against you.

The two of them were too much. The situation was too much, yet you wanted more. Your breathing nearly stopped as you reached the next level of pleasure, the wanton need nearly cresting now.

Simon’s wet thumb grazed against your asshole and you were convulsing a moment later. The sensitive touch of him making your waves of ecstasy crash upon you like a tsunami. Your legs shook, your scream ripping into the night as the white-hot pleasure tore through you. Your walls milked his cock greedily, drawing Simon’s own orgasm nearly to the brink. Johnny held you up with one arm while Ghost snapped his hips forward once, then again before pulling free from your cunt.

Before you could stop shaking he’d come across your back, and was trembling himself. To your surprise, Johnny hadn’t finished yet. You were sure watching something he’d openly spoken of fantasizing about would make him reach his orgasm, but-

“Don’t gimme that look.” He scolded, going to his trousers and flapping them free of sand. “You made me come last night, remember?” He grabbed your clothes next, and brushed them off as well. 

“No excuses, soldier.” Ghost harped, then shot you an amused look. His gaze darted to your thighs, then back up. He got up and found his own clothes, then helped Johnny get you dressed. Your body was shaken, worn and tired by the time you reached the car.

“I’ll drive. You two get some rest.” Soap offered, patting his vest pocket for the keys. 

Though Ghost’s mask was pulled back down, it didn’t stop you from looking to where you knew his lips were. IT didn’t stop your body from very actively responding to the knowledge that the mask was very much coated in your wetness, still. 

“Ahh, Ghost?” Soap’s tone was different now, and your eyes whipped to him. 

“Don’t tell me-” Ghost’s voice was a mix of amused and dread as he searched his own pockets. 

+

With the passenger side window smashed, you were pressed tight up against Ghost to hide from the cold of the night air whipping inside the car. 

His arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest, made for a high quality blanket. Soap’s approving stare in the rearview was the final piece to the most restful sleep you’d had in months, even with the brisk wind.

#call of duty fic #cod fic #ghost fic #soap fic #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader

[prrism]

A Visit From… Bloopers Reel (Vol. 2)

Welcome to the second volume of the bloopers reel. This time around I also added some deleted scenes I couldn’t fit into the series, for one reason or another. Remember this is outside of canon from the series, meant for fun and to break tension. Please sit back and enjoy the hilarity

Warning: Swearing, utter stupidity not meant to be taken seriously

A Visit From… Jack Manifold

“You know I tried to be patient but clearly that’s not going to happen.” You speak up, startling the guy as he whips his head in your direction.

“Ahjfjjr mrimvokd!” You start laughing when all that comes out of Jack’s mouth is absolute gibberish.

“I’m sorry, what was that again?” You say between chuckles.

“Words?” He chuckles himself, slightly embarrassed.

“I can assure you those weren’t words.” You say cheekily.

“I forgot my line, can we just start over?” He looks away, trying to hide his beet red face.

“Are there still awkward potions in the chest?” You ask rhetorically before resetting yourselves to retake the scene.

A Visit From… Quackity

You could hear screaming outside your house, curious and concerned you step out to investigate only to see a man running around in nothing but… let’s say shorts for now.

“What the f***?” It slips out before you can catch yourself. “When you said you weren’t going to wear much for the scene, I didn’t think you meant you would be borderline naked.”

“That’s just how I vibe, man.” He says in his Mexican Dream voice, the both of you end up laughing as a result.

“Uhhh… Y-you good over there, buddy?” You ask hesitantly.

“Oh yes, hello.” He waves, speaking in an oddly high-pitched voice as he approaches, you can’t help but break into laughter.

“If you keep this up we’re never going to finish filming this scene.” You in fact did not finish the scene that day.

A Visit From… Punz (Second Visit)

An infuriated Punz who marches up to you and practically shoves a pouch into your hands, the force behind it almost knocking you over.

“Oops sorry.” Punz apologizes.

“You just pushed me, how dare you.” You dramatically feign hurt, you can’t hold up the act for long and the both of you end up laughing before retaking the scene.

“You seem very tense, have a seat and try to cool down a little while I get something for you.” You say in a calm matter, hoping to not aggravate him any farther then he already was. He drops himself down on the couch so hard one of the legs breaks off. The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“You’re going to have to fix that.”

“I know…” He sighs.

“Fundy stole Beenus!” He starts, you’re trying so hard not to crack, he notices. “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare.” He warns, but that just makes you laugh harder.

“Beenus…” Is all you manage to wheeze out. It takes a few minutes to calm down before you can try the scene again.

A Visit From… Tubbo (Third Visit)

“Well I’m sure you’ve already heard that Wilbur and Tommy are now enemies to L'Manberg, and as the president’s man it’s my job to help hurt them down.” Tubbo explains.

“Are you sure that’s what you meant to say?” You ask. Tubbo looks at you confused, then proceeds to flip through the script.

“Oh? Ooohh! Sorry.” He apologizes for the mistake. “It’s hunt not hurt, I mean I could hurt them too in all honesty.” He says nonchalantly, you can hear Wilbur break into laughter in the background.

“Are you doing this because you want to do it or because someone told you to do it?”

“Ummm… well… because I uhhh… uhhhh… uhhhhhh…” He trails off, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to remember his line.

“Take your time.”

A Visit From… Techno

“Alright, what can I…” Your voice trails off, eyes wide and blood running cold. “Eeehhhhhh…” You let out the high pitched sound without meaning to.

“Ahaha! You should really see the look on your face.” Techno chuckles.

Deleted Scene: “What the heck?” You mutter looking down at your comm, Techno raises a curious eyebrow. “Apparently Tommy wants me to relay a message to you.” You explain.

“If it is what I think it is, I’m not doing it.” Techno says, crossing his arms.

“Well that’s just the thing, it’s not much of a message, it’s just the letter E.” Instantly after you say that Techno’s face scrunches up and he glares at the wall.

“Where did Tommy say he was again?” He asks, an edge to his voice.

“I think he’s still at Pogtopia with Wilbur, why?” You ask nervously.

“… I’m gonna kill him.” With that Techno leaves without another word and you’re left standing there shocked and confused.

A Visit From… HBomb

“Wait, why is this one blue? I’ve never seen a blue stand before.”

“Well why are you in a maid outfit?” You ask back. HBomb looks down at himself.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me I was still wearing this?” He asks, slightly embarrassed. You just shrug. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

A Visit From… Eret (Second Visit)

“You know for someone who wants to be discreet you sure look rather flashy.” You joke pointing to their outfit. He chuckles sheepishly at this.

“Yeah I guess, but you gotta admit, I look really good in it.” She replies, striking a pose.

“Yas, work it.” You applaud, Eret strikes another pose. The two of you completely forgetting to finish the scene in favour of this small fashion show… worth it.

A Visit From… JSchlatt

“Here, a little something from me to you.” He tosses something at you, you’re too distracted trying to catch it to pay attention to what it is. When it’s secure in your grip do you look down at it.

“An apple?” You raise a questioning eyebrow his way. “Who do you take me for? Charlie?”

“Man’s not even in this series.”

“Yet. I heard he’s joining later in the timeline.”

“Can’t a man just make a reference in peace?” Schlatt sighs exasperated.

“No, because that’s exactly what you want.” You quip.

“You know what, f*** you, we’re doing this again.” He jabs back lightheartedly, the both of you sharing a small laugh before having to redo the scene.

“Only if we’re getting ahead of ourselves. No, I’m here to make amends.”

“Ominous foreshadowing is ominous.” You mutter.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Schlatt states proudly.

“Oh sh**! I didn’t think you heard me.” You look away sheepishly.

“These ram ears hear everything, baby!”

“Oh, you’re a ram! Here I thought you were a goat hybrid like Tubbo.”

“What? No! Why does everyone keep thinking that?”

“Your traits do look very similar.” You point out. “We’re getting off track, should we try again?”

“Yeah sure I’ve got some time to kill.”

A Visit From… Wilbur and Dream (Firth and Third Visit)

“By all accounts we’re actually the bad guys. Schlatt won fair and square in the election and even made some good changes to the country, and we’re the ones trying to take it back by force. This isn’t about L’Manberg or the people anymore…” Before Wilbur can continue you jump in.

“It’s about drive, it’s about power.”

“We stay hungry, we devour.” Dream joins in.

“Put in the work, put in the hours, AND TAKE WHATS OURS!”

“You two are literally the worst.” Wilbur says, semi-amused.

“Oh cmon, I see that smile you’re trying to hide.” You smirk, leaning in closer to him, he lightly shoves you away in retaliation.

A Visit From… Techno (Second Visit)

Making your way down stairs you nearly give yourself a heart attack, slipping in the process.

“Dude! Don’t scare me like that!” You scold picking yourself up.

“Can’t hold me accountable, I didn’t even do anything.” Techno raises his arms in defence.

“You presents is intimidating.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” He says matter-of-factly. You sigh and head back upstairs to try at the scene again.

Festival Aftermath

Deleted Scene: “I leave you alone for 5 minutes and suddenly everyone’s throwing hands!” You announce your arrival rather suddenly.

“Techno started it!” Tommy shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the piglin.

“I didn’t start yelling for no reason, you did.”

“Oh yeah well…” You sigh as Tommy goes off on some tangent, you hear Wilbur laugh.

“What?” You look over at him.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just sometimes when you’re trying to diffuse a situation, I don’t know, it reminds me of what my own father does.”

“If that’s the case, I feel sorry the man.”

That’s it for Volume 2, I hope you all enjoyed

#dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x platonic reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp x platonic reader #jack manifold #jack manifold x reader #quackity #quackity x reader #dsmp punz #punz x reader #tubbo #tubbo x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #dsmp hbomb #hbomb94 x reader #dsmp jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #dsmp dream #dream x reader

[chansonsinternationales]

PHILIPPE-GÉRARD (compositeur), “Léo FERRÉ, mon ami” (extraits), L’Humanité-dimanche du 29 janvier 1961 (et Les Copains d’la neuille n°33, p9) : LÉO FERRÉ, mon ami. Oui, depuis plus de quinze ans déjà. Et peut-être qu’aujourd’hui cette amitié grandit encore, comme sans cesse mon estime pour son talent. Aujourd’hui, c’est pour lui le triomphe. Son récital au Vieux-Colombier, c’est un évènement de la saison artistique à Paris… …J’ai rencontré Léo pour la première fois à Paris chez Edith Piaf. C’était peu après la Libération. Il arrivait de Monte-Carlo avec une pointe d’ail dans sa parole et des rayons de soleil méditerranéen cachés derrière son large front. Sa façon de se coiffer et ses lunettes cerclées de métal le faisaient un peu ressembler à un enfant de Beethoven et de Schubert, mais à beaucoup d’autres titres, même physiques, il était déjà Léo Ferré. Bien sûr, nous n’étions pas nombreux à nous en rendre compte, mais nous le savions au fond de nous-mêmes et c’était un peu de réconfort dans les moments difficiles que nous avons alors traversés ensemble. Car nous en avons mangé, à cette époque, de la vache enragée !… …Edith Piaf, à qui nous venions présenter, lui son remarquable “Opéra du ciel” et moi l’une de mes premières chansons sur des paroles de Francis Carco, “Le Voyageur”, ne chanta jamais ni l’une ni l’autre. Bien qu’elle nous accueillit toujours avec beaucoup de sympathie et même de chaleur, il nous fallut attendre quelques années pour qu’elle interprète, de lui, “Les Amants de Paris” qui fut la seule chanson de Léo à son répertoire, et de moi, “Pour moi toute seule”, qui marqua mon départ dans ce métier… http://www.frmusique.ru/texts/f/ferre_leo/operaduciel.htm , L'Opera Du Ciel Léo Ferré : http://www.deezer.com/fr/track/104075228 EDITH PIAF - LES AMANTS DE PARIS Paroles: Léo Ferré, musique: Léo Ferré et Eddie Marnay, enr. 11 juin 1948, que l’on entend aussi dans le film de Jean Eustache LA MAMAN ET LA PUTAIN : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pTr0zizDA8 Edith Piaf - Pour Moi Toute Seule (Guy Lafarge; Philippe-Gérard; Flavien Monod. Blues; “Edith Piaf Sings”; French; …): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4OA1jy-cj8 Renée Lebas , Le Voyageur sans bagage (ou Le Voyageur) - (Auteur : Francis Carco, F.Moslay. Compositeur : Philippe-Gérard ) : http://www.deezer.com/fr/track/138826035 Catherine Sauvage, Le Voyageur (sans bagage) : http://www.deezer.com/fr/track/74805675

#Youtube

[staticl0ve]

Dollhouse - Chap 3 - Connor x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Connor/Female Reader Rating: Explicit/NSFW 18+ Story (AO3): [ Read on AO3 ] Chapters 5/5 (Tumblr): [ Chap 1 ] [ Chap 2 ] [ Chap 3 * ] [ Chap 4 * ] [ Chap 5 ] Words: 3.8k Warnings: Smut, Oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), Summary: Elijah’s in need of a house sitter and what better than asking his step sibling to water the plants and run a few tests. After all, how hard could pressing a few buttons on a tablet be? Alternative AU.

Chapter 3 - Show Me *

“Come…on,” you fumed at your phone.

You asked for space to process and Connor respectfully remained idle in the living room while you paced around the house fiddling with a mobile device. He didn’t seem bothered by your request, his head turning marginally to follow your pacing form while your bare feet pounded restlessly on hardwood.

He explained that a tree had fallen in last night’s storm, causing the cell comms to be knocked down. You had so many choice words for your stepbrother that you were too distracted by the lack of signal to focus on being in an isolated mansion with no easy way back to civilization.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would Elijah think this was a good idea?”

In the corner of your eye, you caught a red glow on Connor’s head, which you assumed was a bad sign. Your worries were confirmed when you spun around the living room, phone in hand to meet the gaze of an android with his brows knitted together. It was worse than kicking a puppy, your frustrations melting as his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is out of your control…and I’m…being unfair.”

You stepped into his space with your arm out, seeking his for a handshake.

“Friends?” you chirped.

His hand wrapped around yours, the texture of it shocking you as you were expecting a cold and hard store mannequin hand when instead, your palm pressed easily into his, the texture of his synthetic skin pliant and warm. If that wasn’t overwhelming enough, his other hand covered yours and held it in place.

“Friends,” he agreed, brown eyes bubbling over in joy.

Oh, you were in trouble.

-

As per the list of friend-zone friendly activities, video games and board games were entertaining for a day or two and with the great outdoors still being off the list—you were running out of ideas when Connor suggested a movie.

A movie. Hmm.

You pondered the choice while staring out the windows. The snowstorm had ended earlier in the day, the skies clear enough to allow the colors of a setting sun to paint the interior of the home and with it, your mood had significantly lifted. It helped that Connor was better company now that he was 3D and could move himself from one room to the next.

It seemed like ages ago you were worried about something.

Oh right.

Not only was the cell tower still out of service, the home lacked internet as well. So you were out of luck with no streaming services but you did manage to find some offline movies. Most of the genres wouldn’t load and you chalked it up to buggy downloads. The only section available was a romance trap as every title featured some windswept heroine and her oiled up muscular companion.

“Wait,” Connor said. “May we try this one?”

You gulped down the bit of wine that you held in your cheeks like a chipmunk and placed the finished glass on a nearby end table. For better or worse, each gulp eased your mind about a movie night with a gorgeous android.

When your eyes landed on the movie selection, it wouldn’t take a genius to see why he was drawn to it. The promo image had a woman in the embrace of a metal limbed machine with a dark and dramatically lit backdrop. From what you could gather in the summary, it was some post apocalyptic world where machines ruled and the main character against all common sense, saved the android, thus spiraling into a forbidden love story. It must have been some indie film or a new blockbuster because you’ve never seen it before.

“It’s topical at least,” you joked.

Connor was practically buzzing with excitement when you highlighted the play button.

The movie was everything you imagined a cheesy low budget film to be—dramatic monologues, obvious green screened environments and one very attractive damsel in distress. It didn’t seem to bother Connor, his LED churning happily while the plot unveiled itself.

As the last of the sun disappeared behind a thick forest, the living room darkened and cooled. Either it was the dimness of the room or the heat the android was outputting, a drowsiness coursed through your body and you slumped your head onto his shoulder.

“Are you comfortable?” Connor asked.

At the sound of his voice, you tensed and jolted back upright.

“Mmm? I’m good.”

He leaned closer to you and glided his hands up your arms, stopping at your shoulders.

“What—oh…” you said.

His fingers dug easily into your muscles, kneading spots that made you involuntary moan. The android rearranged himself behind you and the moment his heated chest met your back, you melted into him. 

You couldn’t recall the last time you’ve been engulfed by the warmth and give of another body. Even if Connor wasn’t human, he felt…incredible. His chest rose and fell, a hot—but not moist—artificial breath tickled your neck.

He seemed to have been affected by a similar need, the tendons on his arms flexing as he gripped you tighter.

“Mmm! R-right there,” you gasped.

He made a sound of acknowledgment, continuing to relax your muscles while absorbing all the soft moans that followed. His fingers knew where to push like he could read all of you—like he’s known it before.

“You feel so good,” he murmured as he worked out a spot that made you see stars.

Loud explosions rattled out of the theater system but that wasn’t what you were focused on, not when his lips warmed the shell of your ear.

“I want to hear those sounds again,” he said.

A tingle pulled at your nerves, one that wasn’t caused by his massaging efforts.

“Mmm. Is this still considered part of your friendly banter?” you said with an amused huff.

He leaned in so his face was parallel to yours, his cheek a mere centimeter from touching yours. The hands on your back roamed lower and you were sure your hips didn’t need massaging.

“We are conversing,” he purred into your ear.

Fuck. The truth was becoming undeniable the longer you spent time with Connor—and the more the wine made your inhibitions go out the window—you wanted his touch. It didn’t help matters when the lovers in the movie were beginning to make moves on each other. 

A steamy scene was unfolding before you, the camera panning from a metal arm stroking the actress’ thighs to her companion’s robotic face.

“Don’t be afraid,” the machine cooed. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not…I…I’m afraid of how much I want this,” the actress replied.

The cringe was enough to distract you from Connor’s wandering hands.

“God, that’s so cheesy,” you snorted.

You wanted to laugh more at it but when you turned your head back at Connor, he looked absolutely enraptured, LED swirling like he was taking notes. You glanced between him and the movie where both characters were now mashing their lips together.

“Connor?”

Brown eyes slowly peeled away from the screen to your face.

“I want to kiss you,” he bluntly stated.

“W-what?”

Perhaps, Connor was too believable, with his lips parted and eyes affixed on your mouth. His strange charms combined with a human body could fool anyone but you couldn’t shake that rational bit of you that doubted freewill played a part in his intentions. You had to remind yourself this was programming running to fulfill your needs and he likely had no idea what he was asking for.

“Please…” he added, his machine eyes likely catching your spike in anxiety. He soothed your arms with gentle strokes like he was calming a wild animal. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Connor,” you breathed out and tried twisting away from his grasp but your efforts only wrinkled his shirt. Damn, he was strong. “I-it’s not that. I don’t know if you want this…or if you’re capable of wanting.”

“I do,” he said with a strained voice and a crimson LED. He became more animated, chocolate eyes melting into yours with a spark of need. “Please, I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

His nose grazed over yours, the contact brief but thrilling—the last strike on a match.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “Yes.”

His lips tugged upwards, pale pink pulling apart over a straight white line of perfect teeth. Slowly, his hands came up to your face, stroking the skin across your jaw and squeezing your warm cheeks.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he dipped his mouth near yours. “So delicate...”

His nose dug into the side of your face and he whined.

“…and so soft,” he groaned and laid a fluttery kiss on your lips, barely brushing the firm texture of his lips on yours.

It all felt so new, like you’d never kissed anyone this way before. Beneath his gentle curiosity laid a darker, hungrier passion. One hand worked it’s way into your hair and the other kept a firm grip on your face. You lips parted at the sudden pressure on the back of your head, the android moaning as his tongue pushed into your mouth.

Initially, you weren’t sure how much of this he could possibly enjoy. There was a chance you were projecting humanity onto a machine. Your understanding of how he was designed was half from his explanations and half whatever you gathered from science fiction. Connor didn’t have a heart, but a mechanical equivalent pumped and pounded in a rhythm that made him feel alive. The combination of his vocal feedback and his assertiveness—the dull sharpness of his nails on your jaw and the not so subtle hardness that pressed against your thigh—all challenged your assumptions that this was just for show.

An urgent, needy whine came from the machine while his hands wandered down your shirt. His thumbs pushed your shirt up your rib cage, the pads of his fingers brushing over your hardened nipples. You moaned when he experimentally rolled them between his fingers.

“I…I want to feel more of you,” he gasped with a pointed look that fell lower down your body.

You smiled, moving his hands to the hem of your shirt and coaxing him to slip it over your head. You discarded it to the side and resumed guiding his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and underwear, the two items quickly joining the floor pile.

Machine or man, he had the same weaknesses, his hands instantly coming back to cup and knead your breasts. You leaned into his touch, earning you a soft smile as his fingers traveled lower over your abdomen.

“Show me how to touch you,” he said while coaxing your thighs open. He bent one of your legs and held it up, leaving the other to dangle off the edge of the sofa with your foot resting on the area rug below. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, slowly leading him until his fingers brushed over the tender nerves above your sex.

“Here?” He leaned over to watch his fingers move in featherlight strokes as you tensed in his arms. “How does that feel?”

“G-good,” you gasped.

A louder moan squeaked through your lips as his fingers began applying more pressure. Your head fell back into his biceps as he cradled you closer to his chest with a soothing hum. 

He experimented with shifting his fingers lower and higher. A warm palm pushed your cheek to line your vision up with his. Thick brown lashes curtained over his lust blackened eyes, doing little to diffuse the intensity of his stare.

You were so lost in the splendor of his face, hypnotized by his swirling indicator that you barely noticed fingers tracing over your folds. Your skin burned, body aching for more which thankfully, the perceptive android noticed. 

“I need…”

“I know. Y-you…you’re so wet. I have to…”

He trailed off and slid down your torso, sucking and licking your skin on his way down. His hands roamed over your curves. One dove between your thighs and the other over your hips, pinning your pelvis down. There was a flash of blue light as the skin on his hands shifted to white plastic, a reminder of what he was. He described it as interfacing, a method used for machines to talk to one another.

You wondered if he felt more with it, his electric whines growing more insistent, the palm on your abdomen digging into your flesh.

“May I—“ he said.

“C-Connor. Please.”

The rubbery pads of his plastic fingers buzzed with energy as he collected your slick. He pushed one glowing finger in, watching intensely as the light disappeared. Curiously, he brought his mouth between your thighs, nose pushing into your pelvis as he sealed his lips over your swollen bud.

“Fuck!” you cried.

If you thought you were loud, his wet, sucking moans alone were enough to shatter the coil building in your abdomen. You had to brace yourself by gripping the sofa and slinging your other arm over your face to muffle your choked sobs.

He added a second finger, curling them into you, quickly finding spots that made your hands abandon the sofa for his hair. You wish you had thought to run your hands through it earlier, the soft fibers spilling between your fingers like water. When you pulled hard enough for it to sting for a human man, the android doubled down on his efforts, tongue flicking and lapping at a frenzied pace. You jolted, unable to stop your hips from following his mouth.

He pulled away, drawing swirls over your swollen bud with his thumb. A third finger pushed in right as his thumb began buzzing. 

“I would do anything for you, all you have to do is ask,” he offered.

“Con…nor,” you panted and writhed, unable to budge from his grasp.

He kissed the spot above his thumb and a more determined look sharpened his features. “Ask me.”

“Please. Please, make me feel good—”

His mouth latched back onto you with a new sense of purpose, eager to fulfill your command. He had a tongue unlike any human man, the appendage capable of flexing into precise, pinpoint shapes and drilling into the most sensitive parts of your nerves.

Your head rolled to the side, hot burning cheek pressing into the couch, blurry eyes barely able to make out the black void of night just outside. The only light on the property was from the living room fireplace, it’s orange flames reflecting off the windows. You’d never been more grateful for the lack of an audience, wondering how obscene you must look with your thighs quaking around an android’s head, your screams silent on the other side of the glass. The movie had reached its own crescendo of sorts, a French horn filled fanfare tooting the sounds of victory as the two leading characters shared a romantic kiss.

None of it mattered.

You had Connor.

“Ah…! C-Con…It’s too much!”

His tongue flicked and swirled while he stared back up at you with a wickedness that implied he didn’t have to listen to you. You clenched around his fingers, already feeling incredibly full and over stimulated.

“Connor…!”

But he did listen, rising up to his elbows and licking his lips.

“You’re sweet…like the cherries you’ve described to me,” he said.

Your eyes widened marginally when he brought his fingers to his mouth and cleaned off each digit. An idea came to mind, feeling inspired by his lewd slurping.

“Is it okay if I try something?” you asked.

He seemed to catch the sexual undertones of your question, the android sitting up to attention with a warm smile.

“Yes.”

You moved off the sofa, sinking your knees into the plush rug below. Your hands slid up his legs, the muscles tensed and rounded as your palms flattened around the tops of his thighs.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” you asked while removing his belt.

He was somehow faster than you were with his pants, a blur of white drifting to the ground in your periphery. You coaxed him to lift his hips, taking your time to pull the last of his clothes off.

“Holy shit,” you gasped.

He was thick, pink and dripping in anticipation. Not a single detail was spared, no effort wasted in making him as perfect as possible everywhere. You risked ruining the mood if you thought too hard about a certain someone’s involvement with his creation.

So you didn’t.

You gently palmed at his cock, coating your hand in his lubricant, not missing how his hips immediately bucked forward. A noise like a broken radio rumbled from his chassis and it took a few more languid strokes before you recognized that it was a good sound.

Your hands lowered down his length, making room for your mouth. Tongue out, jaw nearly unhinged—you slipped him past your lips, savoring the sweet and salty taste of his precum. It reminded you of something, like butterscotch or salted caramel. Either way, you couldn’t stop wanting to taste more of him.

A higher pitched whine joined the static as he moaned out your name with a stuttering voice box. His hands gripped the back of your head, thankfully not as roughly as you’ve gripped his, just firm enough to ground him. He was throbbing between your lips, his taste coating your tongue the closer he was getting.

His reactions were so genuine, so animal, his hips jolting when you hollowed your cheeks and used your hands to stroke what didn’t fit. He was struggling to stay on the sofa without bucking you off of him, the android torn between wanting more and less. When you surprised him by shoving him down your throat, an unholy collection of inhuman sounds echoed across the empty house. It was all the warning you had before he came down your throat, pulling his hips back so the rest of it could pool in your mouth. There was definitely something addicting about the way he tasted as you wasted no time in swallowing every drop.

You had some filthy joke about how he’d pair well with your morning coffee when he leaned forward and pulled you up onto his lap. He was still so hard, the length of his arousal pressing into your abdomen. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem interested in pursuing more, the android capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. Your face was encased by plastic hands as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you,” he said.

If not for his sincerity, you may have laughed.

“Anytime,” you said right back with a grin. Although, in hindsight, maybe not a good joke for the machine with no refractory period.

A pair of arms wrapped around you, his LED flickering as the fireplace and television turned off. The home was once again, pitch black.

“You need your rest,” he said, lifting you off the couch.

Easily swayed by suggestion and a series of sleepless nights with strange dreams, your body gave in and you nuzzled closer to his bare chest, lulled further to sleep by the sound of a Thirium pump pounding away beneath the plastic. Your eyes shut and somewhere between drowsy blinks, you were in your room and tucked into your bed with an android following suit.

You were too out of it to notice his hands never left your side to open your door.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said from behind you, laying a kiss on your cheek before making movements to resume the distance you’ve requested while sharing a bed.

“Connor,” you mumbled, your mouth half pushed to the side from how deep your cheek was in your pillow.

“Yes?”

“Come…cuddle.”

Your eyelids were lead weights, the world already turning to static but you still managed feel his body slide up against yours and the heavy weight of his arm as he pulled you tight against him. You think you slurred a thank you and he may have responded but you were already deep asleep.

With the storm cleared, the blue splendor of night once again graced your room. A warm golden hue joined the soothing palette, it’s color originating from a glowing circle.

Connor’s lips moved, but no sounds came out, his mouth forming a single sentence.

“Yes, she’s resting now.”

Outside the home, a trail, rough and unfinished wrapped around thick trees and ended on a clearing. There, energy crackled around metal disguised as a tree.

A working cell tower, standing tall in the middle of a forest.

#my writing #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #rk800 #reader insert #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #dollhouse

[swedesinstockholm]

12 novembre

j'ai du m'arracher à mes collages sur photoshop pour aller dormir ce soir. ça me rassure de pouvoir éprouver autant de plaisir à faire quelque chose. écouter de la musique aussi me procure du plaisir x1000. ce matin après avoir déjeuné je suis remontée dans ma chambre et j'ai écouté les trois premiers albums de muse par ordre décroissant assise sur mon lit. quand maman est rentrée dans ma chambre en disant qu'est-ce que tu fais là? j'avais l'impression d'avoir douze ans et d'écouter avril lavigne sur mon lecteur cd assise en tailleur sur la moquette. je me suis rendu compte à quel point muse me réconfortaient encore, presque vingt ans après, en les écoutant bien fort, ils restent un refuge. tellement d'anniversaires à fêter l'année prochaine. vingt ans de muse, vingt ans du journal, vingt ans de ma non tumeur à l'oeil. j'espère que ça va mettre en branle des forces géologiques ou des forces cosmiques ou n'importe quelles forces qui me feront sortir d'ici.

l'autre jour j'ai regardé un film sur une femme de 63 ans qui a traversé la mer à la nage entre cuba et la floride, après avoir échoué à 28, 60, 61 et 62 ans, et puis le même jour j'ai appris que jenna lyons avait embrassé une femme pour la première fois à 42 ans AND LOOK AT HER NOW, icône lesbienne en couple avec cass bird. je vais essayer d'aborder mon anniversaire avec ces deux histoires en tête.

14 novembre

j'ai fait un rêve tellement long ce matin que j'ai l'impression de m'être perdue en chemin. de m'être perdue moi je veux dire. je me suis réveillée à 11h14, je sais pas si c'est normal. tout d'un coup à la veille de mes 33 ans mon corps me dit que je suis pas SI vieille que ça et que je suis encore tout à fait capable de faire des grasses matinées. à part ça on est mardi et je me tiens absolument pas à ma nouvelle routine que j'étais censée instaurer mais c'est pas grave parce que c'est la semaine de mon anniversaire et j'ai décidé de me laisser luxurier dans mon luxe mon luxe absolu de pouvoir hiberner et me lever à 11h14 parce que c'est ce que mon corps réclame, mon luxe de pouvoir décider de ne pas sortir dehors sous la pluie et la tempête sans fin et de commencer ma journée doucement en répondant aux messages de r. de m. et d f. qui visiblement ne m'en veut pas pour dimanche soir parce qu'elle est intelligente et qu'elle doit avoir compris que c'était mon cerveau dysfonctionnel à l'oeuvre. je me suis laissée faire des collages photo tout l'après-midi, même si j'ai rien produit de grandiose.

15 novembre

9h50, je fais des progrès. j'ai lu jusqu'à 2h11, j'ai temporairement laissé tomber le livre académique très sec sur violette leduc et le temps de l'autobiographie pour lire the cost of living de deborah levy et j'aurais pu lire toute la nuit, mais ne pas dormir me fait peur. ça s'écarte trop de l'ordre quotidien des choses. la nuit c'est fait pour dormir. j'ai passé la matinée à lire et je pensais à la femme au mascara bleu électrique avec qui j'avais discuté sur le trottoir devant la bellone qui m'avait dit qu'elle considérait le temps qu'elle passait à lire comme du temps consacré à son travail d'écrivaine. je me demande si je suis trop jeune pour écrire un livre dans le style de the cost of living ou si maintenant que j'ai presque 33 ans ça va, j'ai l'âge.

16 novembre

10h24, mes progrès reculent. hier soir j'ai vu que la chambre de c.b. dans la coloc à bruxelles était toujours libre et j'ai été prise de panique, d'un sentiment d'urgence, d'urgence absolue c'est maintenant ou jamais lara si je veux m'échapper du marasme qu'est mon quotidien de la maison avec maman, tout luxueux et confortable soit-il, et commencer une nouvelle vie avec du mouvement et de la stimulation et des relations sociales et des responsabilités et des obligations et du fun et du partage. mais au lieu de lui écrire j'ai entrepris une exploration approfondie du tumblr d'une des colocataires parce que son pseudo me disait quelque chose, j'ai remonté ses archives jusqu'en 2011 et j'ai trouvé des posts à moi, je suis sûre qu'elle faisait partie de la blogo mais je me rappelle plus de qui c'était. j'ai peur de leur écrire et de leur dire que je débarque à bruxelles sans travail sans revenus et sans perspectives avec un cv bancal et une forte instabilité mentale, mais si je commence à raisonner comme ça je bougerai jamais.

#stuff

[ainosenshifansub]

Precure All-Stars F VOstfr

Après moult péripéties et manque de temps, voici le film "Precure All-Stars F"! Un grand film riche en souvenirs, c'est le cas de le dire!

Profitez bien de ce grand film, j'ai comme d'habitude tout donné pour offrir la meilleure expérience possible ;)

Les musique et chansons arriveront après, comme toujours. Le temps que tout le monde profite du film.

Ne perdons pas plus de temps avec un long discours, place au lien!

___

Liens DDL - Deux options s'offrent à vous, le résultat est le même:

Gofile (Pour télécharger en une seule fois, mais lien temporaire) En dernier recours, utilisez ce lien.

Mega: Partie 1 / Partie 2 / Partie 3 (Comme d'habitude, plusieurs parties mais lien fait pour durer) Pour obtenir l'épisode de cette façon, c'est toujours la même méthode: décompressez la Partie 1 en ayant les 2 autres dans le même dossier.

___

Pour rejoindre le Serveur Discord de la Ai no Senshi: - Serveur Discord -

Envie de nouveaux projets et d’autres nouveautés?

N’hésitez-pas à faire un don, si vous pouvez

#Precure #Film #All-Stars F #Mega #Gofile #Lien #DDL #Download #Téléchargement #Fansub #VOstfr #Ai no Senshi #Discord #Don #Eiga #All-Stars

[maaarine]

a) cette choré à la con reste immonde mais je ne me mens pas à moi-même, je sais que je m'en souviendrai jusqu'à la fin des temps, de la même manière que je n'ai jamais oublié celle de Laissez-Moi Danser et Paris Latino

b) ça m'éclate qu'Axel devienne bg quand il enlève ses lunettes, c'est comme dans les films

c) sans surprise les quatre qui ont le plus assuré vocalement pendant l'hymne sont les quatre demi-finalistes

d) fascinée par Goldman qui fait chanter plein de chansons de son père et semble être en paix avec son statut de nepo baby, mais qui ne se laisse jamais filmer en train de lui-même les chanter

pendant la soirée profs-finalistes de cette semaine, ils chantaient tous tour à tour l'hymne autour du piano, sauf lui qui a refusé d'enchainer quand Lucie a essayé de le lancer

Julien a même dit "montre-nous l'exemple" et Goldman a répondu "sur une autre chanson"

e) le public avait bien fait de jarter Louis après une semaine, ses fausses notes et ses yeux morts ne sont pas aidés par sa personnalité sans substance

f) d'ailleurs quand les élèves sont tous revenus au chateau, c'était intéressant de les voir retomber dans leurs vieilles dynamiques, avec les extravertis comme Louis qui prennent toute la place, et Héléna qui n'existe plus, comme au début

g) Lola s'est dépêchée de se teindre les cheveux pour faire son intéressante, confirmant les reproches qui lui étaient faits par rapport à sa sincérité

h) Djebril m'a manqué mais Candice ça reste non à jamais — justice pour Clara!

i) ça fait un peu beauf-sauce-Nikos de dire ça mais la ~surprise que Dadju a faite à Pierre pour lui permettre de chanter sa composition, c'était un vrai Moment de Télévision

source: Star Academy 2023 - Finale du 3 février 2024

#star academy #mytxt #music

[ofgreyskies]

all about greymatter, the pre-debut chapter

greymatter is the username of the youtube and soundcloud accounts created by ash when he was fifteen years old where he would upload his covers and original music. since signing to a label at eighteen, ash has posted occasionally to the greymatter accounts, but they are generally inactive today. his original tracks from 2013 to 2015 were officially released onto streaming sites in 2016 as a part of the remastered compilation album greymatter following his major label debut. the current-day stage name of grey grew out of the username. to this day, he uses greymatter as a producer alias, and his visual directing, editing, and photography work is watermarked with greymatter visuals.

"cigarette" is the earliest original song uploaded to the greymatter soundcloud account that's still available today. the song features collaborators as the primary vocalists and is representative of some of the early work he was posting to the account where he played a more prominent role as producer and songwriter than performer. the upload brought the first real wave attention to him on the platform, as it went small-scale viral around the time of its release. it wasn't the kind of virality that got him any broad name recognition or places on any charts outside of the soundcloud platform, but it earned him a few local gigs and connections. a visual was released for "cigarette" months after the track was uploaded. the visual was directed and edited by ash and a film school friend he had at the time. in fan spaces, "cigarette" has become one of the songs people reference to prove themselves as a "real" fan. since his most popular soundcloud releases were re-released onto streaming sites, "cigarette" has been among the most streamed songs off the compilation.

greed was uploaded onto grey's soundcloud and youtube in august 2014, when he was seventeen and had just begun his final year of high school. it was the first of three mixtapes he released under the greymatter moniker. greed consists of six self-written and self-produced songs. several of the tracks on greed were songs he was performing at open mics around the city and at school showcases and shopping around to music labels. a music video for one of the songs, "comme des garcons" was uploaded to his youtube channel. he directed it along with the same friend with whom he made the "cigarette" visual. it followed the same monochrome look all of his greymatter accounts and content had at the time.

"antiriver" was uploaded a few months after greed and is one of his least known releases despite being his favorite song he'd made at the time it came out. he released a video for this song too, though this time he broke the black and white look established with his previous visuals. at the time, ash thought this would be his big breakthrough masterpiece that would define him as an artist. it wasn't.

not long after turning eighteen, ash released his second mixtape esprit onto his greymatter accounts. reflective of the self-discovery that comes with becoming an adult and preparing for the next chapter in his life (which, at this point, he believed was going off to college in the fall), it maintained a stylistic throughline with greed, but with a clearly matured songwriting style. as he began to sell songs as a producer with more regularity and grew a bigger team with which to work, the main track of the collection, "lustre", also had a bigger video budget than its predecessors.

evergrey is the most well-known of ash's pre-debut works as his own (since "cigarette" is linked back to him less often). a final self-release before beginning his journey as a newly-signed artist under a major label, evergrey is both a conclusion and a transition. it draws from the same soundscape and stylizations as greed and esprit, but also introduces the more sensual sound that would become the early trademark of the artist grey with his official american and korean debuts in the following year. as the only of the early releases he gave an interview for the release of (thanks to the promotional interests of the label he'd sign to), evergrey is the one he's spoken the most about on-record. in addition to his video for "evergrey" / "in the blur of the rain", track visualizers were released for each track for the first time.

#. greymatter #. character

[claudehenrion]

Hawaï, île de rêve, ou prise de guerre ?

  Je n'ai jamais oublié ma première visite à Hawaï. Entre les films-au-sirop des années '50,  ''starring'' Elvis Presley (comme par hasard dans le rôle d'un chanteur-séducteur), les souvenirs des ''Yukulele'' des disques 78 tours de mes grandes sœurs, la réputation des couchers de soleil sur la plage de Waikiki (''Red sails in the  sunset...''), le nom-même de ''Honolulu'' et les volcans ''en exercice''... le prestige du lieu et la magie du nom jouaient un rôle dans l'émotion ressentie : pas question que je résiste ! Bingo ! Mais retrouver tout cela devant soi est un vrai traumatisme.

C'est avec ces souvenirs en tête que j'ai découvert récemment, en ''surfant'' sur mon écran, que la Subaru-Asahi Star Camera, qui diffuse en direct les images prises par le télescope Subaru à Hawaï, avait filmé des rayons-laser verts tombant en pluie sur le volcan Mauna Kea (que je connais bien, pour y avoir beaucoup chauffé mes semelles, à les faire fondre !). La question suivante a été, bien sûr :  ''Pourquoi attaquer, et au laser s'il vous plaît, un volcan endormi sur la grande île d'Hawaï, ce joyau étoilée de l'Oncle Sam et du drapeau US, Stars and Stripes ? 

Car ces lasers ne provenaient pas d'un satellite de la NASA : compte tenu de l'alignement des planètes... et du ciel, ce jour-là, ils ne pouvaient provenir que du satellite chinois Daqi-1/AEMS... ''qui mesure les polluants, entre autres choses'', a déclaré sans rire Roy Gal de l'Institut d'astronomie de l'Université d'Hawaï au quotidien ''The Hill'', source ensoleillée de mes informations... affirmation complétée par Ray L'Heureux (sic !), ancien chef d'état-major des Pacific Marine Forces : ''A mon humble avis, il serait bizarre que les Chinois -qui sont parmi les plus gros pollueurs de la planète– se mettent brutalement à s'intéresser aux polluants au point de collecter des données de ce côté-ci du Pacifique''. (NB : ''Qu'en termes galants...''. Il doit y avoir d'autres raisons à l'intérêt des chinois pour Hawaï...).

Ce même jour --coïncidence ?--  un désormais célèbre ballon espion chinois est entré dans l'espace aérien de l'Alaska, dans un grand bruit totalement silencieux, très loin au dessus des Aléoutiennes que j'ai tant aimé survoler, pour un petit ''trek'' touristique de huit jours qui l'a conduit à travers tous les États-Unis et le Canada, s'offrant un magnifique aperçu de au moins deux membres de la "triade nucléaire" américaine : sa force de dissuasion nucléaire et les bases qui abritent les missiles balistiques intercontinentaux Minuteman III (le troisième, les sous-marins, étant plutôt du côté de Norfolk, sur la côte Est). Ce gros ballon balourd, officiellement plein de matériel de surveillance –mais pas que !-- s'est baladé, tranquillo, jusqu'au 4 février, avant qu'un F-22 de l'US Air Force ne l'abatte. Ce non-dirigeable dirigé est également passé  loin au dessus de la base de Whiteman, qui abrite la flotte de bombardiers nucléaires B-2  Et il a même survolé, sans être embêté, la base Offutt, siège du Strategic Command du nucléaire américain ! Quel beau voyage il a fait !

La Chine a ainsi fait le plein d'informations utiles, en vue (?) d'une première  frappe éventuelle (puis d'une deuxième, et d'une troisième, tant qu'ils y sont : quand on ''nem'', on ne compte pas !) sur les sites nucléaires américains. Si on ajoute que les ''lasers verts'' ont collecté des données atmosphériques utiles à une frappe par un engin volant hypersonique sur Hawaï (''Remember Pearl Harbor''!)... les grosses têtes ont en main (si j'ose ce raccourci !) tous les éléments pour être alarmés. Car après le ballon espion, trois autres "machins-trucs" ont traversé l'espace aérien nord-américain. Ces intrus, ont également été abattus, mais leur origine demeure, officiellement –tu parles !-- un mystère. (NB : Qui sait ? Des martiens, peut-être ?)

Pourquoi la Chine a-t-elle ''attaqué'' au laser un volcan endormi sur la grande île d'Hawaï ? Le Parti communiste chinois, dans son honnêteté intellectuelle reconnue, s'est immédiatement mobilisé en criant à la provocation, au mensonge, et à une agression du grand Satan... Personne, bien sûr, n'a pu  penser que la pluie de lasers du 28 janvier était à des fins civiles ou climatiques, mais personne ne doute, non plus, que de telles incursions arrivent souvent, beaucoup, partout... Mais ce qui est le plus grave, c'est que le Pentagone a été pris au dépourvu : ce n'est qu'après que le ballon espion chinois ait pénétré, profond, l'espace aérien américain qu'a été fait le lien avec plein d'autres intrusions, souvent, depuis longtemps. Ce manque de vigilance et d'intelligence stratégique ne sont pas un bon signal, mais la preuve d'une impréparation grave, en temps de crise : on comprendrait que la Chine ait envie de tester cette inertie : ce serait une faute, mais que ça doit être tentant !

Conclusion : on est soudain projetés dans un film de science-fiction où quelque docteur Folamour peut ''péter un cable'' à chaque seconde... déclenchant ainsi un enchaînement qui serait sans doute ''le der des ders''... Et pourtant... toutes les informations disponibles –sauf celles citées plus haut-- des ''Nostradam-US'' galonnés et couverts de décorations à en avoir du mal à marcher-- tendraient à démontrer que ''c'est pas demain la veille'' que les armées du ''Trente-et-unième'' Empereur chinois'' (Xi JinPing, d'après mon ami Bernard Brizay) vont être fin prêtes pour un ''remake'' de la formidable Opération Overlord d'Eisenhower, en juin 1944...

Si on accepte les chiffres qui sont admis dans et par tous les Etats-majors, le ratio incontournable pour réussir un débarquement sur une côte bien défendue serait de 9 ou 10 (à Taïwan, cela signifie 10 soldats ''populaires'' pour un ''nationaliste'' –et il y a 2 millions de réservistes entraînés !), et les capacités de transports en mer de la marine chinoise sont très loin de ce genre d’hyper-performances, ce qui rend un débarquement improbable. Reste, bien sûr, le blocus maritime et aérien (NB : des grandes manœuvres ont testé, la semaine dernière, les uns et les autres). Mais là, la supériorité des américains est irrattrapable pour le moment. Et, n'en déplaise à M Macron, ils n'auraient besoin de la France que pour un habillage diplomatique !

En toute logique, il semblerait donc que si de nombreuses menaces, jeux de rôle, bruits de bottes moulinets, rodomontades et discours enflammés soient au menu dans la Mer de Chine, le déclenchement d'un conflit ouvert ne soit pas pour demain. Seulement voilà... les hommes proposent... mais les dieux disposent : personne ne peut assurer qu'un enchaînement imprévu, un coup de ''pas de bol'', une succession de hasards ''que personne n'a voulus mais...'' ne vont pas perturber ce beau calme statistique : le destin se moque pas mal de la logique, et la pluie de lasers verts sur Hawaï pourrait être un avertissement de plus que, quelque part dans notre futur, il y a une guerre entre ces deux géants à la puissance jamais imaginée dans l'Histoire de l'humanité. Et le fait qu'elle ne soit, sauf accident, pas pour demain, n'est pas une raison pour ne pas se préparer très sérieusement à une telle éventualité qui, dans l'échelle des probables, est tout en haut du podium.

''Si vis pacem, para bellum'', recommandait Publius Fabius Végèce (c'est un autre Fabius : le nôtre serait bien incapable de tant d'intelligence !) dans son  Epitoma Rei Militaris : si tu veux la paix, prépare-toi à la guerre. Mais une fois encore, l'Occident post-moderne brille par son in-intelligence stratégique, et la France progressiste par son incapacité à prévoir, le manque absolu de ''vista'' de ses chefs et leur court-termisme mortifère. En cas de coup dur, tous ces responsables irresponsables (s'il reste des habitants sur la Terre !) répéteront ''Nous ne savions pas'', comme ils l'ont fait pour le covid, pour l'actuelle ''bronca'' sociale généralisée, pour la guerre en Ukraine, pour leur refus de voir l'immigration pour ce qu'elle est... et comme ils s'apprêtent à le refaire pour les drames qui vont surgir,  les fausses pandémies qu'ils vont fabriquer pour nous terroriser à nouveau, et les ''viols'' qu'ils vont nous faire subir pour nous imposer toutes les mauvaises idées qu'ils n'ont pas encore eu le temps de nous imposer... ''Ne rien savoir'' est leur deuxième nature !

Mais comme à chaque fois, ils savaient : tout était prévisible et annoncé... à la seule condition de vouloir voir ce qui est visible. Il est vraiment urgent d'envisager un autre mode de sélection de nos ''élites'' (?), que l'ENA (même rebaptisée) ou l'adhésion à un système de pensées mortifères et vieux de 3 siècles, qui a fait cent fois la preuve de son inadaptation totale aux problèmes du monde. Mais ceci est un autre sujet. ''Aloh'a'', comme on dit à Hawaï...

H-Cl.

PS : Nous allons nous quitter, vacances de Pâques–Zone ''C'' obligent. Nous nous retrouverons, si Dieu le veut et avec joie en ce qui me concerne, le Jeudi 4 Mai, ''date à reporter sur vos agendas'', selon la formule consacrée. D'ici là, profitez de chaque minute... et de la vie. Je vous souhaite de vraiment bonnes vacances !

--

[marie-swriting]

Tu Vois Vraiment Rien - Robin Buckley

Stranger Things Masterlist

Résumé : Tu as le béguin pour Robin et tu tentes de le lui faire comprendre. Malheureusement, elle ne comprend pas le message facilement.

Warnings : Robin ne remarque rien, moments embarrassants, pining mutuelle, fin heureuse, dites-moi si j'en ai loupés d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 2.2k

Version anglaise

Chanson qui m'a inspiré : Chance par Hayley Kiyoko

Les cassettes VHS dans tes mains, tu prends une grande inspiration avant d’entrer dans Family Video, un sourire sur ton visage sachant que tu vas la voir. Steve t’accueille quand il entend la porte. Quand tu le regardes, tu remarques qu’il est seul. Ton sourire disparaît en un instant. Tu essayes de cacher ta déception tout en donnant les cassettes à Steve.

-Robin n’est pas là aujourd’hui ? Je croyais qu’elle travaillait, lui demandes-tu alors qu’il vérifie les VHS.

-Elle est ici. Elle est juste à l’arrière, en train de ranger les cassettes.

-Oh ok, dis-tu pendant que ton sourire réapparait.

-Tout est bon. Tu peux prendre d’autres films, si tu veux.

-Merci.

Tu te diriges dans un autre rayon, cherchant le documentaire dont ton père t’a parlé. Pendant ce temps, Steve court auprès de Robin. Elle le regarde bizarrement, car il paraît paniqué.

-Je vais m’occuper de ça. Tu devrais aller voir le client, lui dit-il et elle fronce ses sourcils.

-Pourquoi ? C’est quelqu’un que t’aimes pas ?

-En fait, c’est quelqu’un que tu aimes, corrige Steve, Robin ne comprend pas. Y/N est là. Vas-y.

-Quoi ? Non ! Je vais me ridiculiser et tu le sais, rétorque Robin, nerveuse.

-Mais non ! Allez, ça fait quatre mois que tu as le béguin pour elle. S’il te plait, aies une parfaite vie amoureuse pour nous.

-Rien ne va se passer.

-Si tu ne veux pas tenter ta chance, va au moins faire ton job avec elle, l’encourage Steve.

Robin réfléchit pendant quelques secondes avant de répondre.

-Je te déteste, Harrington.

-Un jour, tu me diras merci.

Robin lève les yeux au ciel avant d’aller au comptoir où elle te trouve en train d’attendre, une cassette en mains. Tu souris de toutes tes dents pendant que tu lui donnes le documentaire. Robin tente de cacher sa nervosité en ne te regardant pas dans les yeux.

-Ça sera tout ? te demande-t-elle.

-Oui, dis-tu en lui donnant l’argent.

Tu restes silencieuse alors qu’elle te rend ta monnaie.

-Mon père voulait ce documentaire depuis des mois. J’ai rien pris pour moi, car on a pas mal de devoirs en ce moment, tu sais, lui dis-tu, maladroitement et tu t’insultes mentalement.

-Ouais, c’est vrai. Les profs sont pas près de nous donner une pause.

-Surtout avec cette dissertation de littérature. Enfin, c’est de la poésie, ça se lit rapidement, mais l’analyse prend du temps si on veut la faire comme il faut.

-J’imagine, répond Robin, peu sûre de ce qu’elle doit dire.

-Tu aimes Lord Byron ?

-Je ne sais pas, je l’ai jamais lu avant.

-Moi non plus. Mais j’aurais préféré travailler sur d’autres poètes comme Emily Dickinson ou Sappho. Tu connais ? lui demandes-tu, espérant qu’elle comprendra l’allusion.

-Pas vraiment, dit-elle et tu fais tout pour ne pas montrer ta douleur en réalisant qu’elle n’a pas compris la vraie signification de ta phrase.

-Leur style est vraiment bien. Tu devrais les lire, l’informes-tu. En fait, demain, je vais m’acheter la poésie de Sappho en grec. Ça fait quelques années que je prends des cours donc je pense que je peux lire ses poèmes dans la langue originale. Tu devrais venir avec moi, si tu veux, et après… on pourrait aller dans un café ou autre, suggères-tu et Robin te fixe, les yeux grands ouverts.

-Je… Steve peut y aller, s’exclame-t-elle et tu la regardes, perdue.

-Steve ? demandes-tu.

Au même moment, Steve prend part à la conversation.

-Moi ?

-Oui, je… je suis occupée demain, mais je suis sûre que Steve adorerait aller dans un café avec toi. N’est-ce pas Steve ? dit Robin, tentant de cacher sa panique.

-Tu es sûre que tu ne veux pas te joindre à nous ? On peut faire quelque chose après ce que tu as à faire, essayes-tu de demander à nouveau.

-Je suis prise toute la journée. Mais allez-y tous les deux.

-Eh bien, si ça te dérange pas, Steve, lui dis-tu, en le regardant.

-Ouais, bien sûr. On pourrait aller au Hawkin’s café à seize heures.

-Ouais, confirmes-tu, un sourire gêné sur tes lèvres. Eh bien, je dois y aller. Mon père attend ça, dis-tu en montrant la VHS. On se revoit bientôt ? lui demandes-tu et elle hoche la tête.

Tu quittes Family Video, une expression triste sur le visage. Ces derniers mois, tu n’as pas arrêté de penser à une façon de lui proposer un rendez-vous. Tu savais que tu devais faire le premier pas, mais avec sa réaction, tu penses que peut-être tu n’aurais pas dû. Clairement, elle n’est pas attirée par les filles, encore moins par toi…

Quand tu es complètement hors de vue, Steve vient devant Robin, choqué. Il lui faut quelques secondes pour comprendre ce qu’il vient de se passer.

-Est-ce que tu viens de m’organiser un rendez-vous avec la fille sur laquelle t’as un béguin ? questionne-t-il, n’en croyant pas ses oreilles.

-J’ai paniqué, d’accord ?! crie Robin, mettant sa tête entre ses mains.

-C’est un autre niveau de panique, là ! Pourquoi t’as fait ça ? Pour quelqu’un d’intelligent, ça, c’était complètement stupid !

-Je sais. Je sais ! s’exclame-t-elle, le regardant.

-Tu réalises qu’elle te proposait un rendez-vous, n’est-ce pas ? lui dit Steve et Robin paraît surprise.

-Vraiment ?

-Oui ! C’est sûr qu’elle voulait sortir avec toi.

-Mais elle a le béguin pour toi, rétorque Robin, faisant froncer les sourcils de Steve.

-Pourquoi tu penses ça ?

-Parce que c’est la vérité.

-Robin, elle vient seulement ici quand tu travailles. Quand elle ne t’a pas vue plus tôt, elle était déçue et elle m’a demandé où tu étais. Ensuite, elle t’a dit qu’elle aimait Dickinson et Sappho, autrement dit deux poétesses qui aimaient les femmes, comme tu me l’as déjà dit ! Et après ça, elle t’a demandé si tu voulais aller à la librairie et prendre un café avec elle et quand tu as agi de manière stupide, elle était clairement triste. Comment t’as pas compris ? fait remarquer Steve, Robin se sent mal quand elle réalise qu’il a peut-être raison.

-Ouais, enfin, c’est juste une coïncidence.

-Tu es la personne la plus aveugle que je connaisse. Je ne veux plus jamais que tu critiques ma vie amoureuse.

-Même si elle était attirée par les filles, ce dont je doute, elle n’essayerait rien, tente de raisonner Robin.

-Elle a demandé deux fois si tu voulais venir avec elle au café. Deux fois.

-Okay, arrête ! J’ai merdé. C’est trop tard, finit Robin, se détestant pour sa réaction.

Le jour suivant, tu te rends au café. Steve t’attend déjà, embarrassé par la situation, tout comme toi. Tu espères vraiment que Steve ne va rien tenter. Il a l’air gentil, mais tu n’es pas attirée par lui. Tu veux Robin et seulement elle. Mais elle a arrangé ce rendez-vous avec toi et Steve donc clairement, elle ne te veut pas comme toi tu la veux. Quand tu t’assois en face de lui, après avoir commandé ton café, tu poses ton nouveau livre sur la table.

-C’est le livre que tu voulais ? demande Steve et tu hoches la tête.

-Oui, j’ai hâte de le lire.

-Du coup, c’est moi ou Robin a joué les cupidons avec nous ? questionnes-tu après quelques minutes.

-En gros. Je suis désolé pour ça, d’ailleurs. On est pas obligés de dire que c’est un rendez-vous. On a qu’à dire qu’on traine ensemble, te rassure-t-il et tu sens un poids quitter tes épaules.

-Cool. Parce que je dois admettre que je n’ai pas le béguin pour toi. Enfin, tu es mignon. J’imagine. C’est juste que… Disons que tu n’es pas mon genre, dis-tu, légèrement embarrassée.

-Je comprends.

-Mais je pensais que, peut-être, qu’il y avait quelque chose entre toi et Robin. Enfin, je le pensais jusqu’à ce qu’elle fasse ça hier.

-Oh non ! Il n’y a rien entre nous, t’informes-il rapidement. On est amis, très bons amis. On est totalement platoniques, avec un P majuscule. Rien ne se passera. Enfin, j’ai essayé et elle m’a dit que j’étais pas son genre. Apparemment, je suis pas le genre de beaucoup de gens, dit-il, perdu dans ses pensées.

-Je suis sûre que tu trouveras quelqu’un. Mais, est-ce que tu sais si, peut-être, Robin a le béguin pour quelqu’un ? le questionnes-tu, prenant une gorgée de ton café que la serveuse vient de te donner.

-Disons qu’elle est totalement aveugle quand c’est pour l’amour. Je pense que si quelqu’un est attiré par elle, cette personne devra lui dire qu’elle est attirée par elle, te dit Steve et tu remarques qu’il a été neutre dans sa description.

-Ok, je vois.

Tu changes de sujet, parlant de l’école, plus précisément des études supérieures. Cependant, tu repenses à ce que Steve t’a dit. Est-ce qu’il essayait de te faire comprendre que Robin est, en fait, attirée par toi, mais ne peut pas voir que tu l’es également ou est-ce qu’elle aurait le béguin pour quelqu’un d’autre ? Avec ce qu’il a dit, la première option serait la bonne réponse. Mais il a aussi dit que cette personne devait aller droit au but, donc plus de sous-entendus. Pour toi, c’est trop risqué. Si tu as faux, ça pourrait mal se finir et tu ne veux pas ça. Tu dois vraiment y réfléchir comme il faut. Tu ne veux pas la perdre, surtout si tu n’as pas compris les indices correctement.

Tu y penses pendant les jours suivants. A chaque fois que tu arrives à la même conclusion, tu dois aller lui avouer tes sentiments si tu ne le fais pas, tu vas peut-être manquer ta chance avec elle et tu l’aimes trop pour ça. Toutefois, tes peurs deviennent de plus en plus fortes quand tu réalises que tu es sur le point de soit avoir la fille que tu aimes ou soit tout ruiner.

A un moment, tu décides de réunir tout ton courage et aller à Family Video. Tu trouves Robin proche de la porte, en train de lire un synopsis d’un film avant de le reposer sur l’étagère. Tu marches vers elle, prenant une grande inspiration.

-Hey, Robin.

-Oh, salut ! dit-elle, nerveuse. Tu cherches un film ?

-Non, je voulais te parler. Si tu as quelques minutes, s’il te plaît.

-Bien sûr, acquiesce-t-elle avant de te diriger vers un endroit plus silencieux. Tout va bien ? Tu as l’air stressée, demande-t-elle quand elle te voit jouer avec tes doigts.

-Quand faut y aller, faut y aller… chuchotes-tu avant de parler plus fort. Ok, Robin, je… je voulais savoir si, peut-être, et tu peux totalement dire non ! Je voulais savoir si tu voulais aller… aller à un rendez-vous avec moi, questionnes-tu, ne la regardant pas.

-Un rendez-vous ?

-Oui, comme un vrai rendez-vous, confirmes-tu, mais elle reste silencieuse.

Tu paniques et commences à chercher la sortie.

-Je savais que j’aurais pas dû venir. Désolée, je pars, lui dis-tu, t’éloignant alors que Robin cherche de l’aide en regardant Steve.

-Vas-y ! murmure-t-il à Robin.

-Y/N, attends ! Crie-t-elle et tu la regardes à nouveau. Tu veux vraiment aller à un rendez-vous avec moi ? Un rendez-vous, dans le sens où tu es attirée par moi ?

-Oui. Enfin, je ne sais pas si tu es aussi attirée par les filles, ou même moi, mais je pense que tu es magnifique et je voulais te proposer un rendez-vous depuis quelques mois déjà. La dernière fois que j’ai essayé, sans être explicite, ça n’a pas réellement fonctionné. Steve m’a dit que tu ne voyais rien et que la personne attirée par toi devait aller droit au but avec toi, c’est pour ça que je t’ai demandé, expliques-tu, totalement stressée.

-Je… Je pensais pas que tu étais attirée par les filles ou même moi, non plus, avoue Robin et tu rigoles nerveusement.

-J’essaye toujours de te parler et j’ai même mentionné Dickinson et Sappho, je pensais que c’était clair.

-Tu vois, j’avais raison ! crie Steve, car il écoutait la conversation depuis le début.

Suite à son intervention, Robin lève les yeux au ciel.

-Tais-toi, idiot ! lui ordonne-t-elle avant de te regarder.

Il lui faut quelques secondes avant de comprendre et tu peux voir la réalisation sur son visage.

-Oh mon Dieu.

-Waouh, tu vois vraiment rien, rigoles-tu et elle rigole, mal à l’aise.

-C’est juste que… ça paraît irréaliste et je ne voulais pas faire d’erreur.

-J’avais peur de ça aussi. Mais je t’aime beaucoup et je savais que si je faisais rien, je n’aurais jamais su si tu m’aimais bien aussi.

-Je ne vais pas te mentir, t’as bien fait. J’aurais jamais pensé que tu tenterais ta chance avec moi. Je ne voulais pas croire que tu pouvais m’aimer. Ça semblait trop beau pour être vrai.

-Eh bien, ça l’est, lui confirmes-tu en souriant. Donc tu veux sortir avec moi un de ces jours ?

-Totalement ! crie-t-elle presque.

-Voici mon numéro. Appelle-moi pour qu’on s’organise, dis-tu à Robin, en lui donnant un bout de papier que tu avais pris avant de partir de chez toi.

-Ok, acquiesce-t-elle en regardant le papier avec amour.

-A plus, Robin, souris-tu avant d’embrasser sa joue gauche.

Robin ne bouge pas, surprise par ton geste. Elle sent toujours tes lèvres sur son visage alors que tu marches en direction de la sortie. Elle regarde l’endroit par lequel tu es partie avec un sourire attendri, contente que tu aies fait le premier pas, mais surtout, elle est remplie d’espoir sur ce qui va se passer entre vous deux.

Stranger Things Masterlist

{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

#Spotify #marie swriting in french #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley fluff #tumblr français

[davidfakrikian]

Adieu Steve Braun

C'est avec grande tristesse que j'apprend la mort Steve Braun aka Etienne. J'ai eu la chance de le rencontrer lors du tournage de mon premier clip pour Gina Simmons & The Nobodies en 2020, au Luxembourg, où Steve a eu la gentillesse de nous fournir les lieux de tournage (dont une chapelle filmée pendant le golden hour), mais aussi le matériel photo (boitiers caméras, focales etc.), à titre gracieux. Le plus dingue, c'est qu'à la fin de chaque journée de tournage, Steve et sa partenaire Monique se pointaient sur le plateau dans le soleil couchant avec des bouteilles et des coupes, et nous offraient le champagne pour finir la journée. Ça c'était de l'accueil !

Gina m'avait averti avant de me le présenter, "soit il va pas te sentir, soit vous allez être potes directs", et c'est la deuxième option qui est passée. Beaucoup d'affinités avec lui, puisqu'il a été photographe de plateau sur des centaines de films, et avait shooté des dizaines de stars dont Deneuve, Marceau, Depardieu, Pacino, Swayze, etc. Il avait même rencontré Marylin Monroe pour des shoots où il était assistant à ses débuts ! Toutes ses images étaient réunies dans une immense galerie dans les escaliers chez lui.

Steve était aussi l'un des plus grands photographes fétichiste du monde, et vous pouvez apercevoir sa galerie SM, son bar, l'entrée, et le champ en face de sa propriété dans notre clip. Enfin il fait une caméo dans la scène du mariage, masqué, son geste final étant un F brandit du doigt. Je pense qu'il aura traversé la vie comme il l'avait toujours voulu, selon ses propres termes, et j'espère qu'il repose en paix.

Pour voir notre Clip, c'est par ici : Gina Simmons and The Nobodies - All Sins One Vice Official Video Punk Rock https://youtu.be/WUS4BXrO4Ao Evitez cependant de le partager, la vignette pourrait vous écoper d'une interdiction, la promo en effet, s'est révélée quasi-impossible en raison du puritanisme actuellement en vogue sur les réseaux sociaux.

#Steve Braun #Luxembourg #décès

[equalizer-3-en-francais]

Equalizer 3

Regarder ➡ Equalizer 3 | Film Complet [2023] Streaming vF Français

Telecharger ➡ Equalizer 3 | Film Complet [2023] Streaming vF Français

Regarder Equalizer 3 (2023) Streaming Film Complet en ligne Gratuit |

Regarder Equalizer 3 (2023) Streaming Film Complet en ligne Gratuit.

Equalizer 3, le film sera là ! Le film Equalizer 3 est sorti le mercredi 2 septembre 2023. Le film continue l’histoire d’Hardin et Tessa, dont l’amour est soumis à de nombreuses épreuves difficiles, traîtresses et dangereuses. Ces deux amoureux auront-ils une fin heureuse ? En attendant de savoir si le film a été acclamé par les fans, il y a de bonnes nouvelles : Equalizer 3 va sortir ! Cela a été confirmé le 3 septembre 2023 par les deux stars de la série dans une vidéo postée sur le profil Instagram officiel d’Equalizer 3. Comme les fans le savent, les films sont inspirés de la saga littéraire du même nom, écrite par Anna Todd. La série Equalizer 3 est composé de 4 livres.

L’intrigue du film Equalizer 3 L’amour d’Hardin et Tessa est encore une fois mis à l’épreuve. Ces deux adolescents vont devoir affronter leur passé. Tessa rencontre son père après des années et décide de le prendre en charge après avoir découvert qu’il était devenu sans abri. Hardin accepte de l’héberger mais ne fait pas confiance à cet homme, convaincu qu’il cache une partie de la vérité. Mais ce n’est pas le seul obstacle. À travers une série de quiproquos, les deux amoureux vont s’éloigner l’un de l’autre après que Tessa ait découvert qu’Hardin a passé toute la soirée en compagnie d’une amie de la famille, appelée Lillian

Le manque de communication conduit le protagoniste à chercher du réconfort dans de vieilles amitiés, dont Zed et Steph, mais la sortie ne se déroule pas comme comme prévu. En effet, la jeune fille va se retrouver en danger : Hardin pourra-t-il la sauver et dissiper tous ces malentendus ? Concernant l’intrigue du film, Castille Landon, le réalisateur d’Equalizer 3 nous assure qu’il sera fidèle au roman du même nom.

Le casting du film Equalizer 3 : qui sera là ? Nous verrons probablement le retour de deux personnages principaux : Héro Fiennes-Tiffin et Josephine Langford, comme Hardin et Tessa, Equalizer 3ivement. Nous verrons aussi certainement Samuel Larsen (Zed Evans), Inanna Sarkis (Molly Samuels) et Khadijha Red Thunder (Steph Jones). Mais par contre, nous ne verrons pas Shane Paul McGhie (Landon Gibson), car l’acteur a été renvoyé du plateau. Dylan Sprouse, dont le rôle est Trevor ne revient pas non plus.

Mais il y a aussi une nouvelle de dernière minute : d’autres acteurs ne reviendront pas dans le troisième film, d’où la nécessité d’un renouvellement. Déjà dans Equalizer 3 2, on se rend compte que le père d’Hardin n’est plus joué par Peter Gallagher (Andy Cohen pourquoi es-tu parti ?) mais par Rob Estes et que la mère de Landon n’est plus jouée par Jennifer Beals mais par Karimah Westbrook. Nous verrons également beaucoup de changements dans Equalizer 3. En commençant par Candice King et Charlie Weber : les deux acteurs ne seront plus Kim et Christian Vance.

L’actrice que nous avons appris à aimer dans The Vampire Diaries comme Caroline est enceinte de son deuxième enfant ! Sa grossesse l’empêche donc de retourner sur le plateau pour filmer Equalizer 3. Candice sera remplacée par Arielle Kebbel que nous avons déjà vu dans The Vampire Diaries: : Il s’agit de Lexi, le meilleur ami de Stefan ! Charlie sera remplacé par Stephen Moyer. Aussi Selma Blair, qui joue la mère de Tessa, est remplacée par Mira Sorvino. En plus de toutes ces modifications, il y a aussi une nouvelle arrivée : Carter Jenkins, qui jouera Robert, le potentiel amoureux de Tessa.

La raison de tous ces changements est que le fait de tourner deux films ensemble empêche aussi certains des acteurs principaux de participer à d’autres engagements professionnels ou autres.

30 août 2023 en salle / 1h 50min / Action, Thriller De Antoine Fuqua Par Richard Wenk Avec Denzel Washington, Dakota Fanning, David Denman Titre original The Equalizer 3

Synopsis et détails : Depuis qu'il a renoncé à sa vie d'assassin au service du gouvernement, Robert McCall peine à faire la paix avec ses démons du passé et trouve un étrange réconfort en défendant les opprimés. Alors qu'il a trouvé son havre de paix dans le sud de l'Italie, il découvre que ses amis sont sous le contrôle de la mafia locale. Quand les événements prennent une tournure mortelle, McCall sait ce qu'il doit faire : protéger ses amis en s'attaquant à la mafia.

. Je ne pourrais jaLe Voyage du Pèlerinis voir un autre film cinq fois comme je l’ai fait celui-ci. Retournez voir une seconde fois et faites attention. RegarderIp Man 4 : Le dernier combat Movie WEB-DL Il s’agit d’un fichier extrait sans erreur d’un serveur telLe Voyage du Pèlerin, tel que Netflix, ALe Voyage du Pèlerinzon Video, Hulu, Crunchyroll, DiscoveryGO, BBC iPlayer, etc. Il s’agit également d’un film ou d’une éEqualizer 3 ion télévisée téléchargé via un site web comme on lineistribution, iTunes. La qualité est assez bonne car ils ne sont pas ré-encodés. Les flux vidéo (H.264 ou H.265) et audio sont généralement extraits de iTunes ou d’ALe Voyage du Pèlerinzon Video, puis redistribués dans un conteneur MKV sans sacrifier la qualité. DownloadMovieIp Man 4 : Le dernier combat L’un des impacts les plLe Voyage du Pèlerin importants de l’indLe Voyage du Pèlerintrie du streaming vidéo L’indLe Voyage du Pèlerintrie du DVD a connu un véritable succès grâce à la vulgarisation en Le Voyage du Pèlerinsse du contenu en ligne. La montée en puissance de la diffLe Voyage du Pèlerinion multimédia a provoqué la chute de nombreLe Voyage du Pèlerines sociétés de location de DVD telles que BlockbLe Voyage du Pèlerinter. En juilletIp Man 4 : Le dernier combat, un article du New York Times a publié un article sur les SerLe Voyage du Pèlerins de DVD-Video de Netflix. Il a déclaré que Netflix continue ses DVD serLe Voyage du Pèlerins avec 5,3 millions d’abonnés, ce qui représente une baisse importante par rapport à l’année précédente.

étiquette : regarder Equalizer 3 en streaming Equalizer 3 film streaming Equalizer 3 streaming film complet vf Equalizer 3 streaming vf Equalizer 3 streaming

#Equalizer 3 streaming vf #francais #wiflix #coflix #streaming vf #gratuit

[corriegardenia]

O66 teaser for u+f

It blinked its eyes. That was unorthodox; it hadn't had an obstruction in its field of vision. There it was again! Its vision was filmy now, but more the film of moisture than ocular damage - still a dangerous defect. It would have to report to its commander after the mission. A quick database search showed that it did not have a clone commander in its hierarchy. That was inefficient, but remedying it could wait until the unit was stood down. Its ocular deficiency was insufficient to merit reporting to a general; CT-7567 would have to comm Kamino after the mission, to be remotely assessed and see whether it was worth salvaging or should merely take a decomissioning.

#order 66 #CT-7567 #rex tcw #star wars prequels #clone wars #sw fic #self promo - this is going into ao3 after lunch #i like my vibe rn