#I still think shes the best but probably not the best to make me into an independent human but best emotionally etc

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/4)

(part 1)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

#my writing #the hero and hope #second person #multi part fic #short story #kind of #the total piece is 20k words

[puck-luck]

learning curves | trevor zegras

warnings: inexperienced!reader x experienced!tz, general anziety about having sex for the first time/doing sexual things for the first time, silly goofy sex questions that everyone has but refuses to speak on, conversation about kinks (lasts two seconds because they get derailed almost immediately), handjob, innocence!kink, probably some other stuff i missed. pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!reader summary: trevor zegras and his gf have "the talk" wc: 3891

Three dates. It’s been three dates. Your best friend in the world says that it’s after the third date that she considers putting out– but she’s also had sex before, racked up a body count that seems substantial next to yours (yours being a whopping zero and hers being a solid nine). Where you didn’t have boyfriends and were more focused on graduating early so you could start your dream job with the Angels, she seemed happy with the fast-paced, social side of college that afforded her connections and contacts with men of all kinds.

You told her about Trevor when you started dating him, after he brought you to your own baseball game, the last of the season against the Oakland A’s. It had worked out well in his favor, despite the fact that you hadn’t told him about your passion for baseball. Since it was the last of the season, your supervisor had let you take the day off as a reward for all your hard work and had pawned your tasks off to the other members of your team. 

Your best friend had called you mere minutes after that first date had ended, gushing with you about Trevor’s kindness in buying your food and drinks (and ticket) and laughing at the way you reenacted Trevor’s attempt to mansplain baseball to you. 

After the second date, when Trevor brought you to play mini-golf and took you to get ice cream, you had called her. She had asked if he had kissed you yet. She also asked if you were going to send a picture of his butt anytime soon. The answer to both was “no.”

And last week, after the third date where Trevor had taken you to see Killers of the Flower Moon when it released, she had told you about her policy: the one where she starts to consider putting out. 

It seems like Trevor might be on the same page. For your fourth date, Trevor invited you to dinner. Tonight. At his apartment. He’s cooking for you. At his apartment. 

Alone.

You haven’t told him yet about the fact that you haven’t had sex with anyone. He’s probably picked up on it by now, with how you shy away from his touches and swerved him twice (once at mini-golf and once after the movies). 

You’re going to tell him tonight. He’s going to cook a beautiful dinner, be nothing but sweet and caring like he always is, and then you’re going to tell him that you’re still a virgin, and he’s going to be freaked out, and probably break up with you.

That’s the only way it could go, right?

The potential for disaster is on your mind the whole night, from the drive to Trevor’s to the last bite of the cheesecake Trevor bought for dessert. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Trevor asks, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Did I make something you don’t like? Are you not a cheesecake fan?”

“No, Trevor, I like cheesecake. You haven’t done anything wrong.” You continue to pick at your dessert. You sigh, then place your fork down on the side of the plate. “I think we need to have a conversation.”

You don’t miss the alarm that flashes across Trevor’s face when you say that. 

He stands almost immediately from his seat, taking your hand to bring you to his living room, where you can sit comfortably on the couch. Trevor stays quiet, something you know is difficult for him, but it means so much more to you that he’s trying to let you take charge here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my best friend?” You ask, finding it safest to start there.

Trevor nods. “What about her?”

You’re quiet for a beat, taking a deep breath. “She told me that she starts to put out after the third date.”

A sharp silence follows. Your heart is beating through your chest, but it starts to slow the longer the silence drags on.

Finally, Trevor breaks the silence. “So?” He asks. “What does that have to do with us?”

You fishmouth at him, jaw open wide and dangling. 

“Not in like a mean way, but I was inviting you over for dinner. If you want to fuck, we can fuck, but I really just wanted to eat with you today.”

Trevor’s words are both comforting and cutting. He’s sassy, always is, and the consonants of his words sound harsh. He’s saying everything like he’s so sure, like it was obvious, and the word “fuck” twists your intestines in a way that causes you to grimace. It’s nice that he didn’t intend to have sex with you tonight, but now it seems like an offhanded afterthought. If you want to, we can. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” You bite the edge of your thumbnail. “It’s– well, that’s kind of a big deal for me?”

Trevor nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I haven’t, um. I, kind of, haven’t really… done that… yet.” Your voice shakes a bit in an embarrassing way, a way that makes you want to cringe, but you don’t want to seem so vulnerable in front of Trevor. 

The problem is that you like him. You’ve been going on dates as often as you can, with Trevor’s busy schedule. You enjoy seeing him, you like hanging out with him, and you want to keep doing it. You always get your hopes up and this time is no different, you can feel it. You’re hoping that Trevor won’t say the same shit as the other guys you’ve told this to, the ones that laughed or belittled you or asked “Why? Why haven’t you?” like there’s a good answer to their question.

“Oh,” is the eloquent response that Trevor comes up with. His eyes are wide and his mouth stays slightly open, even when he’s done speaking. It’s like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t know what. 

You’re the same way– you bite the inside of your cheek and your lip as you continue to watch Trevor. If you weren’t feeling so nervous, it would be a funny sight: two people sitting on the couch, just staring at each other with wide eyes.

“I really like you, Trevor,” You tell him. “I just– I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want you to leave me because I can’t give you what you want.”

Trevor moves quickly, closing the space between you. He hugs you tightly and you sniff, holding back emotion that you didn’t realize was there. 

“Is there anything else?” Trevor asks , rubbing your back. 

You shake your head.

“I really like you, too,” Trevor adds. “I’m not going to leave you because you’re… inexperienced. I want to keep dating you, Y/N. If you’ll let me, I would really like to…” Trevor trails off, offering you a smile and a little bit of a laugh before continuing. “Teach you?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Teach me?” You repeat.

Trevor grimaces, an embarrassed smile on his face. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” You agree. Your heart has slowed to its normal pace and Trevor’s hand on your knee is a comfort, not unwelcome pressure. 

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks. His voice is soft and his hand has drifted up to your cheek. 

“Well, I’ve done that before,” You joke. You’re not lying– you’ve kissed people in the past. You feel like that should be clear to Trevor before he gets too big of a head. 

“Not with me.” Trevor leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, then the other. He kisses along your face until he gets to your lips, which is when he pauses before barely letting his lips ghost across yours. He holds himself there for a moment, waits for you to tilt your head up, and Trevor dives in. It’s sweet and he’s patient, never moving any faster than you want him to. 

Over the next week, you tell Trevor your theories about why you haven’t had sex before: that you were a weird kid, or too focused on school, or too eager for the next big thing that you never considered it. Or that guys were scary and often didn’t actually seem to care. Trevor reassured you that he didn’t care that you hadn’t had sex before, but that he did care more about you than anyone he’d ever been with in the past.

By your fifth date, Trevor had officially made you his girlfriend. He had also officially told you that you could ask him any questions you wanted, whenever they popped into your mind.

You had taken advantage of it, often at the worst times:

Over text before a game: “Is it going to hurt?” “Probably. But I’ll go slow and try to get you as ready for my cock as I can.” While you and Trevor are grocery shopping: “What am I supposed to do?” “What do you mean?” “Like, I don’t want to just lay there.” “There are a lot of different positions. I’m not going to make you just lay there.” “Okay, well I don’t think I’ll be any good on top.” “You don’t know that yet. Also, chill out. We’re in the middle of the toilet paper aisle. Can we finish this conversation at home?” Later, in that same grocery trip, while in the condom aisle: “Is it really that different?” “What?” “When you have sex with and without a condom. Is there a big difference?” “Uh, it’s more… intimate without. I think it feels better.” “So should we skip the condom altogether?” “Uh… probably not the first time. We should probably work up to that.” “Well, I want you to feel good.” “You’re going to give me a boner if you keep talking. Shut up. We’re buying condoms.” And when you pouted: “Just be patient, we’ll get there.” When you drop him off for practice: “How long do you usually last?” “I have to go.” Then, over text two minutes after he walks away from the car: “you’re hot so probably not more than two minutes <3”

You’d waited to ask the more pressing questions when you were in private. It brought you a thrill of glee each time you asked a question and you could watch Trevor grow uncomfortable with the effort it took to restrain himself, to not try and get some relief whenever you caused him to grow hard with your unintentionally dirty words. 

“I made a list of questions for you,” You tell Trevor. It’s the last time you’re hanging out before you head home for Thanksgiving. You’re sitting on the same couch, Trevor on one side, you on the other. 

“Twenty questions, sexy style?” Trevor teases, pulling your legs over his lap. 

“You’re my little encyclopedia,” You reply. “And I’m curious.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“What do you like, Trev? Tell me everything. Likes, dislikes, kinks, dare I say fetishes…”

“Don’t really think I have any fetishes, but thanks for being open about it,” Trevor laughs. He rubs his thumb over your ankle. “That’s a really big question, baby.”

You shrug, foregoing a reply.

“I mean, I don’t know. I like sex. I like getting head. I like giving head. I like it when I finger a girl. I like it when I can make a girl come. I occasionally like to spank a girl. I’m pretty chill, baby. I’m down for anything.”

You scoff. “Trev, I don’t know anything. You have to be specific.”

Trevor takes a breath and chews his bottom lip, seeming to consider your words. “I like that you don’t know anything.” His fingers circle your ankle and he squeezes what he can hold in his hand. For probably the first time since he’s talked to you about this sort of thing, Trevor seems hesitant, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “It makes me feel really special.”

“Special how?” You ask.

“I don’t know, just… that you trust me with this.”

You suppress a smile. “Look at you, Mr. Emotional Intimacy.”

Trevor snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been a huge relationship guy, Y/N. I think it’s really cool that you make me want to experience all this shit with you. It’s nice to feel this way. We get to treat every moment like it’s really special, and that makes me feel special, since most of my other sexual encounters are just heat of the moment hookups with other experienced partners.”

When you open your mouth to apologize for your inexperience, unable to help yourself, Trevor cuts you off. 

“I also think it’s really hot that– God, this sounds so fucked up– I get to show you everything. It’s… like, okay, fuck, it’s kind of the student and teacher thing.”

“So you do have a fetish!” You accuse, pointing your finger at Trevor wildly. He captures your hand and rolls his eyes. “You want me to dress up like a Catholic schoolgirl!”

“I do not!” Trevor replies, sounding exasperated. He pauses to consider it. “Okay, it would be hot. But that’s not why, bro. Chill out.”

“Why, then?” You ask. You’re interested, almost too interested. You want to know what makes Trevor click, what you can do to make him hard and what he looks like when he’s in pleasure, when he comes.

“I like that you’re innocent. It just makes me feel like I get to take care of you. It’s dumb, but I get to be the man and I get to make you feel good and show you how to make me feel good. I’m the only one who’s seen you like this, it’s fun for me.”

Your eyes drift lower to his lap, wanting to see if he’s tenting his shorts just at the idea. He is. You move closer to him, taking your legs off his lap and tucking yourself into his side. Feeling bold, you place your hand on his stomach.

“Can I see you?” You ask, making sure your voice sounds extra sweet and you’re blinking up at him through your eyelashes. 

Trevor practically convulses, his mouth pressed into a straight line, but still wobbling a bit as he stares at you in shock. “What?” He asks.

You let your fingers drift to the waistband of his shorts, but you dare not to tread further. You don’t want to touch him wrong, or mess everything up. But, at the same time, you really want to see his dick. “Can I see you?” You repeat. Then, you let out a little laugh, just to yourself. “I’m–” You cut yourself off and press your lips together, proud of the joke you’re about to make. “I’m a hands-on learner.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Trevor says, shaking his head at your terrible joke. “Baby, are you sure?”

“Trev, I want to see your dick.” You roll your eyes, pulling your hand back. “I should see the hardware before I ask of any more questions, right?”

Trevor seems to be battling with himself. 

You dip your finger under the waistband, feeling his v-line with your pinky. 

It snaps Trevor out of his inner turmoil and he bats your hand away. He shimmies his shorts off, leaving his boxers on. They don’t leave much to the imagination and you bite your lip with a gasp.

It’s big. It’s not even out yet, and it’s big.

Trevor dips his head down, tilting your chin up with a finger, and kisses you softly. “Still sure?” He whispers.

“Leave it in there for a second,” You reply. You lower your voice to a whisper to match his: “How is that going to fit inside me?”

“We’ll go slow and I’ll get you nice and open for me. Three fingers, so it’s easier.” He winks. “Maybe four.”

“Jesus Christ, Trevor.” Your voice is more admonishing than turned on, but it would be a lie if you weren’t intrigued by his words. 

“And you know what else?” Trevor asks. 

You nod for him to continue. 

“If we need to, we’ll use lube. But I want to make you come a couple times before I get my cock in you, that first time. Wanna make it so good for you. You’ll be so relaxed that you’ll forget it’s your first time.”

“A couple times,” You repeat, feeling a little dazed. “Is that… normal?”

Trevor shrugs. “Normal is different for everyone. It’s possible and I think you’ll like the feeling of me making you come. I know I will. So, I hope it becomes normal for us.”

“Okay,” You say. You know your voice sounds unsure. You clear your throat. “Take it out,” You tell him, a little hoarse still. 

“You’re sure?”

“Trevor, just do it,” You let the words burst out of you. “If I hate it, I’ll tell you to put it away!”

Trevor laughs. “God, I hope you don’t hate it. That would really derail my plans for us.” He hooks his thumbs in his waistband and inches his boxers down.

The inching slowly reveals the head of his cock, red and shiny. Eyes wide, you tilt your head to the side. Your lips part as Trevor continues to reveal himself to you. It lays flat against his stomach, curved a little to the side. 

Trevor smiles, the right side of his mouth tilting up into a smirk. He brings his hand to the base of his cock and watches your breath hitch when he pumps himself once, slowly, just to gauge your reaction. He squeezes, milking a little precum out of his tip. 

You tense up, watching the drip slide down his length. 

“Oh my God,” You whisper to yourself. 

“What do you think, baby? Hideous?” Trevor asks, a knowing lilt in his voice. He sees how your eyes haven’t left his dick since he pulled it out of his boxers, curious but also enraptured.

Your hand twitches on his stomach. “Can I…”

Trevor hums, stroking himself again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Whatever you want,” Trevor agrees and takes his hand off of himself, practically dropping his cock like a hot potato. 

You reach out, hesitating at the last second. You pull back. “I feel so stupid.”

“Why?” Trevor asks. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You say begrudgingly, pouting under his watchful eye. 

“That’s okay. Just get your hand on it, feel it out. I can help you, if you want.”

“No, I want to do it.” You reach out, making contact with Trevor’s cock with a single finger. You draw a line from his base to his tip, following the vein on the side. You bite your lip in concentration, circling the tip of his cock with your finger and thumb. You purse your lips and feel the weight of his cock in your hand, tilting it gently from one side, to the other, forwards and backwards like a joystick, just to see how it moves.

You fail to notice Trevor’s breathing grow deeper, nor the way his eyes are trained on your face.

You press your thumb into the underside of the head of his dick, where the tip meets the shaft. You drag your thumb up, swiping over the slit. A bubble of precum appears and leaks out. You rub your thumb through it, then turn your hand over to look at your thumb.

Trevor’s jaw drops and a strangled noise leaves his mouth when you bring your thumb up to your mouth and take a taste. 

His cock jumps, drawing your eyes. You then look up to him and notice the sweat on his brow. He’s biting his lip to recover from his groan, but lets out a whimper when you circle his cock with your entire hand and pump him. 

“Oh my God,” Trevor whispers, mirroring your reaction from earlier. His voice is shaky and his eyes roll backwards into his head. 

You bring your other hand down to cradle one of his balls, rolling it in your palm. You pump his cock at the same time and Trevor’s hips jump into your fist, catching you off guard.

“Gonna come,” Trevor chokes out. “Just– fuck– keep going.”

“Help me,” You request, taking his hand and bringing it so his hand covers yours.

He moans aloud, tightening his grip (and yours by extension), and moving his hips up into his hand in short thrusts.

“Fuck, is this– is this okay?” Trevor checks with you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Can I come?”

Your eyes stay on his face, watching as his face contorts with pleasure. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “Want to see you come, Trev.”

He lets out a moan at that, throwing his head back as you continue to stroke over his member in tandem. He fucks up until your fists as he hurls himself over the edge, ribbons of come shooting out of his tip and falling in pools over his hand and abdomen. 

A bit drips through his fingers onto your hand and you stare at it, crinkling your nose at the feeling of the sticky substance as it settles on your skin.

“Gross,” You say, wincing at the way it cools on your skin. 

“Let me clean you up,” Trevor offers, tucking himself away and rising off the couch to wet a paper towel. You stand and follow him, holding your hand a reasonable distance away from yourself, and trying not to drip everywhere. When Trevor turns to you with the paper towel, he laughs. “Well, don’t act like it’s acid!”

“You look pretty when you come,” You tell Trevor as he wipes his come off of your hand. He dumps the paper towel in the trash can and you elbow him out of the way to wash your hands for an extra long amount of time. He follows suit when you’re done and you plaster yourself to his back, hugging him from behind.

“What’s that for?” Trevor asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder fondly.

“For being so understanding and nice to me,” You mumble into his back, hiding your face. “Thank you.”

Trevor turns around in your grasp and returns your hug, holding you tightly to his chest. “Oh, baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Cuz you find me so hot when I’m innocent,” You giggle, poking his ribs.

“It’s my kink,” Trevor teases back, with a hint of truth to it, though you won’t find out about that until Trevor sheepishly admits it the next time you jerk him off and he’s babbling aimlessly about how pretty you look when you’re staring up at him in awe, asking him how he feels and if you’re doing well. He’s praising you and whining and when he finally comes, he almost hardens immediately after because you lift your hand up and give his come a little kitten lick, getting a taste of him. 

You end up scrunching your nose in distaste, not because you dislike it, but because it’s such a unique taste.

It makes Trevor laugh and it makes him lean in to kiss you, even venturing to open his mouth and let you take the lead with tongue (the way he taught you).

note: the monday morning streak continues! pls send feedback to my inbox (not requests, i'm booked) but i want to talk about this series!! I love chit-chatting with y'all! i also think that since i'm starting my new job(!!!!!!) this week, we might be down to one post this week & then i'll just work on a bunch of stuff throughout the week so i can hopefully post more when i'm acclimated to my job! also, my cousin is having her baby today! it's the first baby of the next generation! i'm so excited for her!

#puck luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #tz11 #tz x inexperienced!reader series #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #andy writes anything🍄

[kika-writes]

Hii can you do a lando x reader but reader is very feminine , all pink and sunshine one day she walks in tha laddock and someone basically hurts her.. a lot. And as Lnado is very protective of her when he hears about it he gets all scwry and stuff

Warnings: Blood, hateful fans, pissed Lando, swearing, angst

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

FaceClaim: (Lando posts smthn after the race) Tyla (MY WIFE)

“Lando, over here!” a voice called, making your boyfriend look up, seeing his PR manager gesturing for him to come over. “Baby, can you make it to the motorhome yourself?” he asked, squeezing your hand as you nodded reassuringly. “Alright, love, in a bit,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting you walk away. You pulled your phone out, probably to scroll through instagram, when someone called your name, and unfamiliar voice. 

“Y/N!” you looked up, seeing a girl about your age, looking furious. You didn’t know her. “Hi?” you said, approaching niet. “You’re the one dating Lando?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “He can do so much better,” you rolled your eyes, you weren’t a stranger to hate from his fans. “Don’t you roll your eyes!” she screeched, her hand flying into your face as you stumbled back, your lip splitting as blood poured out. “Y/N!” a familiar British voice said, George’s hands coming to your shoulder. 

“Fuck, you’re bleeding,” he said, your hand covering the wound as he walked you to his garage, the medic on scene arriving. “A punch, I think,” George said, frowning as you coughed slightly, the pain kicking in. You couldn’t speak, the blood still gushing, when your phone rang. “It’s Lando, should I take it?” George asked, letting you nod before answering the call, putting it on speaker. 

“Hey Y/N, where are you?” 

“Hey mate, this is George”

“Dude? Where’s my girlfriend” he sounded already defensive 

“She had an incident with a fan of yours”

“An incident?! As in verbal, or physical…?”

“Physical”

“Fuck, is she okay? Where are you? Where is she?”

“Mate calm down. She’s alright now, at my garage” 

“Fuck”

“Y/N!” Lando called, seeing you on sitting on the floor, George beside you, Carmen on your other side. “Hey, hey, let me see,” he said, tilting your chin so he could see the large cut. “Shit,” he said, finger grazing it lightly, making you hiss. “You okay, my love?” he asked, eyes on yours now as you nodded. “Fine, fine,” you hiccuped, hand coming onto his reassuringly. “Bitch, that fan was,” he said. “Mhm,” you mumbled, head on his shoulder as he groaned. “Fucks’ sake,”. 

landonorris 

Caption: This is my girlfriend. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. I love her. And some of y’all have been right pricks regarding my relationship with her. Well. As I said, I love her. And to start of with, if you’re going to call yourself my fucking fans, respect the fact that Y/N is the girl I love, and if you wish to support me in my racing, learn to support my life as well. Because personally, I do not give a flying fuck if you don’t like Y/N. I don’t care. And @/y/n I love you so so so much ❤️❤️

martingarrix: people should be ashamed to call themselves your fans and then act like that

❤️ by landonorris

y/n: I love you to the stars and back @/landonorris

❤️ by landonorris

georgerussell63: @/landonorris, take care of her please 🙏

❤️ by landonorris

maxverstappen1: best wishes to y/n and you from Kelly, me and Penelope

❤️ by landonorris

comments on this post have been limited to close friends

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x you #f1

[erwinsvow]

have you ever written something where shy reader is too anxious to tell someone they got her order wrong or tell the lady at the nail salon she didn’t exactly like the color/shape

no but omg this is soooo real

getting your nails done was always fun—though sometimes, you leave with something completely different than what you came in wanting.

you found it hard to speak up to anyone, your nail tech included. instead you'd nod politely and smile sweetly when they were doing your nails.

it was just nails—it didn't matter if they were a little shorter than you wanted, or if the pink was a little more bubblegum than baby. they looked pretty and you avoided someone getting upset with you—you considered it a win-win situation.

and it was beginning to work itself out—you had discovered your favorite nail lady, the one who always understood what you wanted and didn't make you nervous when you'd show her the picture you'd brought for inspiration. and going today, you were expecting your appointment to be with her—like always.

until you found out she was home sick. normally you'd wait—but you were at the salon today specially since you were going to a party with rafe tonight, and the idea of going with your bare and currently very ugly nails seemed completely out of the question.

and even worse—rafe had brought you. you didn't want to turn to him and tell him to take you back home, not when he'd driven you all the way here and agreed to sit with you even though you're sure he doesn't want to.

so you suck it up—you show the new tech your photo, a pretty pink and white french tip with some bows and flowers, and hope for the best. she's doing fine, it looks like the picture for the most part.. except your nails are looking more square than round, and it's a little too long for your taste. she's about to start painting, telling you to go wash your hands.

you get up, heart thudding uncomfortably. you hate this about yourself—hate it worse than anyone else could. the nail lady couldn't care less if you ask for them shorter and rounder, but you can't bring yourself to do it. instead you stare down at your nails in the sink and feel like you might start crying.

rafe has a sixth sense—he can always tell when you're feeling upset. you don't know how he does it, just that he does.

all he had noticed was that you had stopped smiling back at him every few minutes about half way into the second hand getting done—and then just now, when you got up, you didn't look at him on your way to the sink.

rafe follows you there, a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. he's got a candy in his mouth, plucked from the bowl they keep near the entrance.

"what's wrong?" he comes out a little raspy, his tongue red.

"nothing," you reply, too quickly. you look up at him with your watery eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

"c'mon, kid. what is it? someone say something?" he asks, turning around to where you were sitting and the two techs in the vicinity.

"no, no. nothing. it's just-" again, you hate this. you don't know why it's so hard to find the words, why they just don't want to come out. you swallow it down.

"what? you gotta tell me if you want me to help," he says, quieter, leaning in a little. you feel better immediately when he says it, but you still can't look up at him. you stare down at the too-long, too-square acrylics.

"it's not.. exactly what i wanted. i don't know how to tell them. i don't want them to be upset-"

"is that it?" rafe asks, and you look up quickly, eyes getting teary again. is he mad at you too now? your expression gives you away, lips turning into a sad pout. "baby, she doesn't care. they get paid either way. gotta ask for what you want."

"but i don't want her to-"

"s'okay. i'll tell her. c'mon. don't cry, it's fine."

you follow rafe back—cheeks burning with embarassmnet. bad enough that you can't ever speak up for yourself, now rafe is involved and he probably thinks you're some kind of child-

"stop overthinkin'. it's easy for me to tell her, it's harder for you. so i'll tell her, okay?" looking up at your boyfriend, your ears ring a little. you hear him talk to your tech—you see his mouth moving, maybe making out shorter and she likes round, okay?

you can't hear anything, it feels like there's music in your ears. the tech nods and smiles at you, fixing them and before your very eyes, your nails look exactly how you wanted them to. rafe pulls his chair closer to yours, a hand on your knee.

his words keep repeating in your head—stop overthinking. and like always, you listen to rafe.

[buckysbabygorl]

A Favour (Part 4)

Part 3

MAJOR SMUT ALERT

Summary: When secrets are revealed during girl’s night, Y/N takes action.

“Wow, talk about impulsive.”

Wanda wiggled further into her floor poof, noting to herself that she was definitely gifted Y/N new ones for Christmas.

“I know,” she filled up their glasses again. “I guess I dodged a bullet there. Still doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Tucking the wine bottle on the nightstand before flopping to the floor, Y/N sighed.

The abandoned date was a week behind her, but she still couldn’t shake her frustration.

“He’s always hitting on me. And now Jane wants to give things another go and I’m discarded like a consolation prize.”

Wanda awed, “Oh love, don’t think of yourself that way.”

Her hand reached for Y/N’s arm, her thumb running over it softly.

“Men have a way about them, I’ll never understand it but it’s like—they constantly chase after the one that got away. It’s to no fault of your own, he’s just stupid.”

Y/N sipped her wine, smiling at Wanda.

“Thanks babe. Honestly, at the end of the day they have history. They’re well suited for each other. Hell they probably have better chemistry than Thor and I would have—”

“Oh I’m sure that’s not a factor. That man could have chemistry with anyone.”

Y/N wracked with laughter, Wanda was pretty reserved about her attractions. It was shocking when they came out.

“For sure. Big and bulky, thousands of years of experience…”

Wanda hummed, “Experience. Now that’s the kind of man you need Y/N. Someone who knows his way around a woman.”

Wanda flipped abruptly, sliding drunkenly to lay across from Y/N.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Y/N looked at Wanda’s glass, seeing it was almost empty.

Note to self, we’re slowing down after this one

“Of course,” Y/N mock-whispered.

Wanda giggled, “The best fucks are the older guys.”

Y/N gasped and smacked Wanda’s arm as she howled.

“Wanda! You’re naughty.”

“I am, I am. But it’s true. Younger men are selfish, rushing to the main event… the older ones take their time.”

She sat up, consumed by her reminiscence.

“They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you. Two words for you Y/N: body worship. It is the best thing since sliced bread. And I’m making sandwiches.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know!” Wanda said, “But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

She threw back the rest of her glass and huffed.

“God, now I’m horny.”

Y/N scoffed, “You’re telling me. With all my potential suitors lined up, I’ve been on edge.”

Evident, considering her blatant proposition to Barnes.

She grew red at the thought, how could she do that? Just throw herself at him?

At least things weren’t awkward between them, he was even going to go as far to give her advice about Thor…

Now looking back on it, it did seem rather odd coming from him. She propositions him for sex, and then comes to give her bedrooms tips? Perhaps he had just been trying to compensate for that day before.

Whatever, she thought, she should just put it out of her head.

“Bucky!” Wanda exclaimed.

Y/N jolted, had she read her mind?

“What?”

Wanda shook her finger at her, “that’s the one you should go for. Christ, have you seen his arms?”

Y/N raised her brows and hummed, “Oh yes, yes I have. Beef cake to a T.”

“And that stubble, lord forgive me.”

Y/N pictured how it would feel scraping her neck, the inside of her thighs…

“But that ship has sailed. It didn’t even dock Wanda.”

Wanda halted as she reached for the wine bottle.

“Explain.”

“Well,” she bobbed her head as she thought, “I kinda already asked him.”

Wanda gasped.

“And he said no.”

Wanda then slammed her hand down. “Bad friend! How could you not tell me?”

Wanda grabbed her hand and shook it, “We could have made a game plan. He could’ve been putty in your hands!”

“I tried!” Y/N defended, “I thought it would be a good idea but it didn’t—I don’t know, pan out.”

Wanda groaned, “Where is Nat? She’ll talk some sense in to you.”

How could it have not panned out, Wanda thought. She knew of the affections he harbored for Y/N, him passing up his opportunity was beyond comprehension.

As if on cue, Nat barged through Y/N’s door. Stumbling with her bottle of tequila and go bag in hand, not even undressed from her late night mission.

“Okay!” She yelled, “I ran off the jet so I wouldn’t miss anything. I’ll do shots to catch up while you spill.”

She directed this to Y/N, who remained utterly confused.

“Spill what?”

Nat rolled her eyes as she unscrewed her bottle.

“Don’t be coy, it’s been a whole week since I talked with Barnes so I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m not in the loop.”

She mouthed the bottle and winced as the first shot went down. Wanda reached out with a grabby hand, and Nat complied.

“How was he? Tell us everything.” She demanded.

Wanda and Y/N shared a look of confusion, had Nat finally gone delusional after too many hits to the head?

“Nat, I’m serious. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her face was read over by the super-spy, and she watched as Nat’s face contorted into annoyance. Her hand darted to grab the bottle back from Wanda.

“Wait. You’re telling me he didn’t make a move?”

Y/N sat up slowly, “No…”

As she drew it out, Nat knew then that Barnes has chickened out.

“Oh that goddamn idiot.”

“Nat what are you talking about?”

She huffed. She knew Bucky would do this. She didn’t know why, but he always found some excuse as to why he shouldn’t follow through. Bucky had to be pushed, and what better way than to tell Y/N herself.

“He charged to your room last week after training, determined to fuck the shit out of you.”

Wanda’s cough sent white wine all over the floor, Nat patted her back as Y/N took this in.

“You’re joking.” Y/N stated.

“No! He told me you asked him to, I told him he was an idiot, and then he went to your room. At least I assume he did—”

“—he did!” Y/N said.

The two women looked at her in shock.

“And he did nothing?” Wanda asked.

Y/N fumbled over her words, “Well—he came in. Yeah, he came in. Then he saw me upset and then we just hung out but he—we, we just—he was gonna fuck me?”

“He wanted to! Like bull in China shop charging out of the room, wanted to fuck you.”

“I can’t believe this.” Y/N decided to take the rest of the wine bottle for herself, slopping it down in the chaos of this news.

“The fuck do I do now?”

Nat gently placed a hand on her knee, face sweet and genuine.

“You mount him, sweetie.”

Wanda nodded eagerly, filling her wine glass with tequila.

“Body worship.” She enunciated.

Nat side eyed her, “What?”

Wanda waved her hand at her, “I’ll explain later.”

As Y/N sat silent, the two stared at her. Eyes dead ahead, Y/N still couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea.

“So?” Nat asked, “Are you going?”

Y/N was shocked, “What, like now?”

Nat threw her head back as she swiped the tequila back from Wanda.

Wow, she thought, they’re both idiots I guess.

“Yes NOW. We just got back from the same mission, he’s in his room as we speak.”

“That doesn’t mean I should go now! I should talk to him, I—I don’t get why he’d change his mind after I asked him—”

“No.” Nat demanded. She stood up, grabbing Y/N and rising with her.

“You two talk way too much. Every time you two come out on the opposite page you started. Or—opposite end of the book. Whatever, you’re not on the same page!”

Nat dragged her to the door, and whipped it open.

“You want to fuck Barnes. He wants to fuck you. When you two start talking that suddenly goes out the window. No more chit-chat. You, are going to get laid tonight. And it’s gonna be by 6 feet, 250 pounds of fine-aged muscle. And you are not coming back here until you do!”

She tossed Y/N out the door, leaving her in stunned silence in the hallway.

~

Bucky stripped himself of his gear, his shoulders and neck aching from the grip of his harness.

God, it felt good to get that off. It felt good to be home.

What he desperately wanted was a rub down, a deep tissue massage courtesy of Stark Therapeutics. But it was far too late for that, he’d have to go tomorrow.

His mind began to wander in his exhaustion, forming a picture of delicate hands working his muscles.

Eventually, the image of Y/N’s wandering hands came into his fantasy. Pulling, yearning for his sensitive skin…

His palms ran up his face into his hair. Now he needed a cold shower.

He should’ve just done it.

He must have been a masochist, torturing and teasing himself with his own chances, graphic and vulgar images just taunting him.

You could have had this, she could have been yours.

He was mad at himself. Now, with their pathetic back-and-forth he would never have a chance like that again.

And then when she finally got back in the game she’d meet someone that rocked her world, then they’d get married and have beautiful mini Y/N babies because of all the rocking sex they’d have.

Alright, now he was being dramatic.

He needed to cool off, breathe, sleep it off and then reset.

He could do without one night of mental torture.

The ice cold water was uninviting, but much needed.

Though it was waking up his exhausted body, his mind was slowly letting go of Y/N.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N….

He was trying his best, he really was. Especially after last week.

He made the choice to be supportive and passive about her sex life, things were feeling normal between them.

A knock came on his door. Turning off the water, he called out.

“Yeah?”

He waited a moment, but when receiving no answer, he went back to his shower.

He jumped out of his skin when the bathroom door whipped open.

Ponytail swinging, eyes hard, she darted to the shower.

“Y/N? What the hell!”

He didn’t attempt to cover himself, too shocked to move.

What the actual hell.

She pulled back the glass door, pausing as she took him in.

Every inch of him was just… goddamn insane.

Perfect arms, perfect abs, perfect v.

Looking down, she sighed.

“God, that’s gonna hurt.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?”

She met his eyes. She looked wild; her pupils blown, panting, the water beginning to dampen her thin clothes.

Part of her hesitated, this was bold. This was a lot coming from her. The last few weeks were filled with waiting and waiting for the right proposal. She had tech geniuses, army vets, marine corps, doctors from all over the building shooting their shot, and none of them caught her attention.

But he however, was the only one she had sought after.

Thor had been tempting, but looking at Barnes in his soaked glory, she knew that the God could never compare. This was a man.

Bucky’s back hit the tiled wall, Y/N’s body being soaked by the shower stream.

His hands stay at his sides, unable to move.

This had to be a dream.

“I want you.”

Bucky’s mouth went dry at her declaration, lip dropping in slight awe.

“Do you want me?” She asked.

Their chests heaved in unison, the frozen water suddenly felt like a thousand degrees.

He stared at her. Her hands on his shoulders, that dangerous look in her eye…

“God yes.” He uttered.

It was so fast.

Her body pressed into him, soft lips covering his.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hands flew to her waist.

He turned them, hoisting her up against the wall. Her legs locked around his back as he ground his cock into her clothed pussy.

He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands nearly ripping her waistband.

He pulled back, resting his head against her forehead as he breathed out.

His body was on fire.

“Tell me you’re sure.”

She went to kiss him again and he ducked his chin.

“Y/N, tell me you’re sure.”

She rested her head back against the cold, wet tile. She felt the heat pooling in her body, her hands hot as they gripped into his shoulders.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I need you to fuck me Bucky.”

That was all he needed.

Shower abandoned, he rushed to the bed with her.

He raked his hands along her body, he needed to feel every inch of her. He needed her to feel how desperately he wanted this.

Goosebumps littered her flesh, his metal hand doing nothing to satiate.

She wrestled to get herself unclothed, eager for his skin against hers.

He pushed her hands away.

“Let me,” he urged, “Let me touch you.”

She complied, lifting her arms above her head as he undressed her. Strong hands delicate but sure, confidently removing every piece that was in his way.

She was perfect.

He took in all her beauty; collarbones exposed, breast perked under his touch, the soft and supple feel of her skin, those hips, those legs, that perfect pussy…

He began his descent, kissing every inch as he urged to her to lay back.

Her eyes never left him, watching as her ravished her torso with his lips.

Body worship echoed in her mind.

His hands wander upwards, grazing her sensitive thighs.

“Bucky, please.”

She loved it, she did. It felt so good to be cherished like this, his fingers kneading into every spot he could grab. But she wanted him, she needed to feel him.

“Baby,” he whispered, stubble scraping her inner thighs, “I gotta take my time with you.”

She moaned as he gently bit the inside of her thigh, lifting her legs over his shoulders.

He groaned at the sound, reminding himself to slow down.

God, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to leave her breathless, whining, desperate to cum beneath him.

But he couldn’t now. Next time.

He met her eyes as his tongue licked her folds.

Her head rolled back as he drew another moan from her.

He listened to her body, the sounds she made as her delved further in to her pussy.

Show me what you like baby, give it all to me.

His lips circled around her clit, tongue working hard and fast.

He’d be damned if he didn’t make her cum before he was inside her.

He planned to ruin her for anyone else, he wanted her pleasure so overwhelming that she’d never forget why she waited. She needed to know what real sex felt like.

“Fuck, Bucky.”

Her thighs clenched around his head, losing herself. She tried to loosen them as he continued his assault, but his hands locked them into place.

Squeeze me love, don’t hesitate. I want it all.

She cried out as he worked harshly with his tongue, she knew she was about to come.

“Don’t stop, Bucky please don’t stop.”

Her back arched against the mattress, and he held her down with his flesh arm. He wanted his face in it when she came, tasting all she had to give.

He hummed against her, passionately continuing as she rode out her climax. He felt it drip down his face, chin slick with her wetness.

He was tempted to go again, really make her writhe from his tongue, have her screaming his name so loud that the rest of the compound would be pounding on his door.

He wanted to give her more; and more.

But he’d wait. Not now.

Now he needed to be inside her, have her tight and wet pussy grip him as he rutted into her.

He had to know how good she felt.

He wiped his chin before climbing on the bed, hovering over her.

She was speechless, eyes glassy as slipped himself between her legs.

“I’m gonna fuck you nice, and slow. You're gonna tell me what you need baby."

In awe, she lifted her hips to his. She didn't care if it hurt, the pleasure would come. She knew he'd make sure of that.

He grazed her entrance with his head, gently teasing.

"Tell me you want me."

She whimpered, mind reflecting on Wanda's statement earlier.

They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you…

He was relishing in her pleasure as much as she was.

“I want you Bucky, please. I want you to fuck me.”

She bucked her hips up to his, and he pressed her further into the mattress.

He hushed her, “Easy baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

His head ducked beneath her ear, softly sucking at the skin.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, his body warm against hers.

“Ready?”

She nodded into his shoulder.

Grabbing her chin, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Staring into her eyes, he watched her face as he eased himself in.

God, he was huge.

Slowly, he let his cock fill her up. His hips stuttered at her tightness, she was so warm… so wet…

He kissed her neck as she sighed, hands sliding under her hips to hold her against him.

Her arms wrapped around his back, legs locking behind his so she could take all of him.

She wanted him to move, she needed him to move.

“Please Bucky, I’m ready.”

He nodded into her shoulder, steeling himself to not cum right then and there.

She felt so good, he’d wanted this for so long. And now she was begging him for more, perfect body wrapped around him.

His wildest dreams never could have imagined this.

His thrusts were gentle, purposeful.

He wanted her to take every inch, he wanted her a mess beneath him.

He gave it to her nice, and slow. Just as he promised.

She moaned softly as his rutting picked up pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

He groaned, “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good baby.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and Bucky’s sly smile grew against her skin.

Her heartbeat pulsed into his cheek, and he nipped at the skin of her neck.

“Yeah? You like that baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” she breathed out, “You feel so good.”

He moaned into her neck, strokes rolling wave after wave of pleasure to her core.

“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl.”

She was soaking his cock, becoming tighter and tighter.

“You fuck me so good Bucky, fuck I—”

She couldn’t hold back her cry, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside of her.

He was worried he’d hurt her, but as her place contorted in pleasure he continued his pounding.

He hesitated in speaking, feeling selfish. Then couldn’t stop himself as she cried out his name.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

She said it without thinking, brain foggy and filled with thoughts of only him.

He could let the sound of that replay for eternity.

“That’s a good girl. Fuck you feel so good.”

He lifted her legs over his shoulders, pushing himself deeper inside her.

He slowed himself as she whined, trying to remember that he couldn’t ruin her yet.

It needed to be slow, this had to be all about her…

No matter how desperately he wanted her cumming from overstimulation, fingertips gripping the bedsheets, crying out his name and only his.

“Bucky…”

It was the only thing she knew to say, her mind devoting her words to only him.

He was getting close, but he couldn’t let himself finish.

Fucking her slow, he slipped his hand over her clit. Making gentle and soft circles, drawing her last orgasm out of her.

He bit into her calf as she came, urging himself not to cum as she did. She coated his thighs, and he moved faster.

His thumb on her clit moved with the pace of his thrusts.

“C’mon baby, give me another one. Cum for me Y/N.”

She felt lightheaded as another orgasm came, washing over her body as she cried out his name again.

“That’s my girl. Fuck Y/N, you’re perfect.”

He groaned as he finished, collapsing on top of her.

Sweaty and hot, they laid against one another. Legs tangled, his hands still pressing her into him.

Their breathing slowed, he reached over to gently kiss her forehead.

“You okay?” He whispered.

She hummed, nodding into his chest.

He chuckled, “Tired?”

She nodded again, smiling into his skin.

He slowly kissed along the side of her face, shifting to cradle her in his arms.

He was coming down from his high, the room became clearer. He drifted his hand along her spine, in silent awe that everything had changed in an instant.

“You really came barging in here.”

She laughed, laying her head on his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, don’t be. It was an answer to my prayers.”

She laughed again, sitting up and pulling at her ponytail.

She let in drape over her shoulders, softly staring at him with a small smile.

“Could’ve been sooner. Nat said you chickened out last week.”

He groaned, “Of course she told you. I’m sorry, okay? I just got scared.”

“You got scared? It was my first time.”

“I know, but… I wanted it to be your choice. You asked me to earlier and I didn’t think you wanted what I did. I needed you to enjoy it.”

She hummed, laying against him again. Her hands placed in the soft tuft of hair on his chest.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it.”

She cuddled into his side, “Of course I did. I know I made the right choice, Buck.”

He nodded, his worries silenced.

“And I know I’m gonna enjoy it next time.”

His brows shot up, “Next time?”

“Oh yeah,” she lifted herself to face him, “next time.”

She kissed his lips, “And the next.”

Another kiss, “And the next.”

They laughed together as she continued. Thank god she had waited all this time.

Bucky drifted to sleep with the thought of each “next”, excited for every single one.

~

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Had some errors with Taglist usernames so if you’re not here and/or have been added but not requested, my apologies!

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky #marvel fics #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader

[fantasylandloser]

Winner

Pairing: Coach!Tashi x fem!Reader x Coach!Art

Warnings: 18+, smut, too filled with shame to proofread, dom!tashi, sub!art, sub!reader, mentions of spanking, tashi is so mean in this, art is basically a prop with minimal lines, idk

*******

Training with Tashi Duncan and her husband was an honor. You knew that. You did your very best to remember that; which was hard to do when she had days like this. 

“Are you scared of the fucking ball?” You shake your head, but you know better than that at this point. 

“Speak up!” You flinch before you can stop yourself. 

“No, I'm not scared of the ball.” You say.

“I would hope not- considering how long you’ve been doing this. That’d surely be a disappointment to your little fan club that you love so much. “ Tashi watched the way your eyebrows tinge only for a moment, at the mention of the onlookers who follow your career closely. 

It was no secret that you had a great appreciation for the love that they’d shown you, but it was almost like you were completely unaware of how quickly it would be gone if you weren’t up to par at all times. 

From afar Art watched the scene play out. You were the player that Tashi was the hardest on. He was sure it was to do with the fact that you were just like her. Well except for the fact that you lacked confidence in your abilities. Another reason she was hard on you. She wouldn’t see your potential wasted. But you worked hard like her, tennis was the love of your life like her. 

He watched as Tashi served to you, intense and laser focused. Then you, playing back with the same intensity and just as passionate. It’s almost magical to watch until you hesitate and miss the ball. 

Tashi’s on your ass before the ball can even hit the ground. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you in it?” 

You stammer a reply that Art can’t hear. Probably an apology. His feet are moving closer before he can even think of a reason why. 

“No, tell me. What’s got you so off your game lately? Because you’re not going to fucking embarrass me at your next matches because you can’t get your head out your ass.”

“Tash lighten up.” He’s ignored which is to be expected. She stares at you intensely awaiting your answer. 

“How am I supposed to lighten up when she’s playing like she never held a racket before, huh?” Again she sees the twitch in your eyebrows. Good, you’re angry. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” Tashi holds up her hand. She doesn’t want your apology. 

“You know what- if you don’t want to tell me what the problem is,” She grabs your phone which has been continuously lighting up since you started. “I’m sure this will.’

You draw in a breath of air in surprise but you make no move to stop her. Your eyes wide at the invasion, but still ever so respectful even when your privacy is being violated. 

Almost immediately her eyebrows sprout up. “I thought we agreed on no boyfriends for this reason?” she shakes her head continuing to scroll through your phone as if it were hers. Art draws closer to her in interest, now intrigued about your phone as well, 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You’re embarrassed, your grip on your racket tightening as you get angry at the way she’s shaming you.

“Obviously.” She mutters. She pauses a moment, both her and Art sharing a look and you know they’ve gotten to the most mortifying part. 

“Well if something would shake someone’s confidence it would be that.” You cringe, finally going to take your phone back only to be pushed back by Tashi.

“What did we talk about when it came to how you let people talk to you off the court and how it affects your game on the court?” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes.

“I can’t control what other people say” You can’t stop the edge in your voice. 

“But you can control what you say. You didn’t even try to stand up for yourself. This-” She shoves the phone at you with a picture of you half naked with the word unfuckable, in the center of the screen. “Is pathetic. “ You look away when she starts scrolling more like you don’t already know the rest of the verbal assault that had been issued towards you, and then a video of your so-called boyfriend with your next opponent and the lewd graphics that came with it. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” You don’t mean for your response to be so angry. Or for the hot tears that started burning your eyes to fall. But the frustrations of your day had started to take a toll on you. So when you finally snatch your phone back from Tashi and get ready to storm off you miss the pleased look on her face. Art doesn’t though, he almost shakes his head knowing it was her intention to rile you up in the first place.

She raises an eyebrow at him, and just as she expects him to, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. The perfect good cop. “It’s okay, kid.” You’re tense in his arms, it reminds him of the times he’s tried to comfort Tashi and she wouldn’t allow it, but after a few moments of him rubbing your back you finally relax. .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You start, but Tashi interrupts. 

“Apologize for standing up for yourself and I’ll make you run until you pass out.” You wipe your eyes roughly and nod. Stepping away from Art’s hug and trying your best to put your game face back on. 

“You got that out of your system now?” You nod again, but after a pointed gaze you speak.

“Yes.” 

“Good now let’s talk about how you respond to this kind of bad sportsmanship.” 

******

The outfit Tashi has you in, is just barely appropriate, You look focused, despite the whistles you’ve received on your way in. You look a little angry actually. 

Art glances at Tashi beside him, who looks all too pleased. “What’d you do?” 

“I didn’t have to do anything.” She’s almost bragging. He follows her line of sight to Tashi’s opponent and sees her and your not boyfriend smirking at you. 

He wants to ask Tashi if she thinks this will shake your confidence more, but then he looks back at you laser focused as you stretch and he decides not to question it. 

The match starts off intense with your serve. Your opponent looks surprised and even though she quickly recovers. Art can tell that this will be a win for you even though he knows Tashi despises that kind of over confident thinking. 

As the match continues Tashi is gripping her seat for support. So enthralled in the game and invested in the fearlessness you’re displaying she can barely contain herself. 

At one point during a break you’re caught trash talking your opponent. Tashi is sure to get you for it later. Even though the only thing she hears clearly is “enjoy my sloppy seconds” with a saccharine smile on your face. The deduction you receive is definitely worth it. 

When you win as expected. Tashi is nearly buzzing and Art can’t hold back his excitement either. 

****

“See this is what happens when you’re a winner.” Tashi tells you. She quite literally holding Art’s balls as he fucks into you. 

“Winners are fuckable, tell her Art.” He gasps, feeling her squeeze him. 

“Fuck-” He breathes. “Did so good.” You spasm around him at the praise, pulling a loud groan from him. “Knew you were gonna win, kid.”

Your whines and whimpers are muffled by Tashi’s hand. “Fuck her faster, she’s gonna come.” Art obeys immediately despite the fact that he is much too close himself. Your eyes roll back at the change of pace. 

“There you go.” She squeezes Art’s balls once you start cumming so that he can too. He tries to pull himself out of you before but he can’t and leaves a sticky mess all over your cunt. “Fuck”

Tashi mounts you before you can stop twitching, lining her pussy up with yours, holding your leg over her shoulder. “Now next time I tell you to do something,, you’ll listen to me.” She starts slowly, spreading the mixture of both you and Art’s orgasm on both of you. 

“Isn’t that right?” You nodding makes her speed up, giving you that look of disapproval. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, yes I’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah I know you will, because now you know what good girls get.” She continues to grind against you skilfully.

“And next time you don’t listen to me-” You feel your core tense up again. “I will spank you until you cry.” Just like that you’re gone again. The masochistic side of you envisioning the picture that will haunt your fantasies until you get it. 

You don’t realize the loud moan you hear is you, until Art is kissing you sloppily to silence your cries. ‘You like that don’t you?” You hear Tashi say. You want to tell her yes but you can’t with Art’s tongue down your throat. You think she knows the answer anyway.

The contrast between the way that Tashi is fucking you so vigorously and the slow kisses Art is giving you puts your head in a spin. On top of that your overstimulated clit is making it hard for you to think at all. 

“Coach please-” You beg. “My pussy can’t;” You’re cut off immediately. 

“Who knows what's best for you? Me or you?”

“You!” By this time tears are flowing down your face, as you feel another orgasm building all too quickly. Art wipes them, then moves his hands down to pinch your nipples. 

“Exactly. Now cum.”

#challengers #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #tashi x art #tashi x reader #tashi x art x reader #tashi duncan smut #fantasylandloserfic

[jarofstyles]

How would reaperry react to bunny wanting to go out and get drunk???

Ooo… very good question my friend. Let me write a little bit about it!

This is still when they’re in Vegas, I’m thinking

Warnings/ mentions of weapons, slightly murderous H, sexual undertones, alcohol, possessiverry, violence hehe

Check out our Patreon 😈

———-

“I just…” running a hand down his face, he looked down at the girl who was trying her best to get him to give in with her little pout. He doubted she knew just how powerful that move was on him. Thank god he had his stone face to keep him from showing just how close he was to giving in. “I don’t like the idea of you out n’around when the creep could be anywhere.”

“I know…. But you’ll protect me, won’t you? Mia said she’d bring Layla so we don’t even need to pick them up or anything. They’re going to Pink Panda.” Her hand smoothed down his shirt, letting out a sigh. The train of thought could be seen working through her face, trying to find a way to get him to give in. It was a little reassuring that she didn’t know just how much she affected him in most ways, because as soon as she figured it out he was going to be fucked.

That particular phrase did exactly what it needed to do, though. His jaw tightened and he flexed his fingers as his hand fell towards the gun holstered under his jacket. Bunny didn’t have a fucking clue the lengths he would go to to protect her. The obsession had been building, pulling him into the dark waves where she was the only source of sunlight to get him out of it. “Jesus, Bun.” He rolled his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling.

The truth of the matter was he was tired. Exhausted, even. His bones were weary and his muscles tight from stress, his hands aching from a particularly annoying job he had to do today. Thankfully she hadn’t clocked the split knuckles yet. It was hard to leave her with others, even if he did trust them to protect her. They knew he would fully kill them in cold blood if something were to happen to her, and no one wanted to trigger the Reaper namesake to crawl out of where he had been laying in wait.

“Please?” Her voice sweetened, fingers trailing down his stomach, baiting him in the best way she knew how. “C’mon, Daddy. I’ll make it worth your while.” The purr went straight to his cock, making him cuss under his breath. She could tell it was working and was very happy to continue pushing. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to see my friends… you can keep me safe.” Nimble fingers ran over his belt, lazily tracing over the gun he had on him and back to front of his jeans.

“There will be ground rules. The moment they’re broken, I’m dragging you out of there.” He didn’t let her celebrate long, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger to make her look at him. “Don’t make me kill someone tonight. I’ll do it, and I’ll probably enjoy it if it means one less son of a bitch is in there getting to look at you.”

Bunny shivered, eyes widening at how casual and serious he was about killing someone for her. It was toxic in a lot of ways, and yet it somehow still made her a little bit wet. The man was a mystery a lot of the time, but there was one thing he had made abundantly clear since they’d progressed into a more sexual relationship- he didn’t share.

“If you dance with me, maybe I’ll behave.” Blinking up at him, the smile grew on her face as his grip on hers tightened. “I’ll be such a good girl, you’ll see. I’ll be good for you, H. Just let me go out and drink, Daddy. Come n’protect me.” She knew she won when her palm settled over his cock, watching his eyes harden at her. Playing with Harry was like playing with fire, but Bunny knew she could withstand the burn.

“Better hope you do.” He grunted, releasing her face. “Go on, then. I’m going to get one of the other sons of bitches to come with us.” There was no way he could keep an eye on the outside and her at the same time.

“Okay, grouchy. I’m going!”

—-

Harry didn’t like clubs in Vegas, not now. He used to come in and find a fuck, a nice blowie in the bathroom or take them out to their cars to get a fuck in, but it didn’t hold the same appeal anymore.

His attention was split between two things. Making sure she was safe, and trying not to lose his shit and drag her to the bathroom by the hair to wreck her. Of course she’d been lying about behaving, giggly and flirty with him and going out to the dance floor with her friends while he stood by the sidelines and watched her dance.

The pink lights strobed, illuminating her and her skin as she had her arms up in the air. The alcohol had released some of her stress, which was partially why he agreed. Sure, he was stressed, but he wasn’t the one being stalked. She deserved to feel normal for once, and he could do it here. Harry couldn’t offer her a lot of things and he often weighed in on that, so this was a small blip in the compromises he could give to her.

“It’s clear.” Wiz bumped him. “Went back and looked at the cameras, wired it to be sent to my phone too. I’ll have footage of anything and anyone looking too close, so you can take the rod out of your back and go dance with her.” His chin nodded towards the girl lost in the music. “Looks like someone else is going to go for it if you aren’t.”

Which- no. No, he wasn’t going to let that happen. His clenched fist harshly slammed the watery drink down on the table and he made his way over, eyes hard and dark as he looked at the man getting a bit too close to Y/N. That simply wouldn’t fucking do. His steps were purposeful, no denying he was coming in to get her.

Y/N brightened at the view of him, but her face fell in confusion as he looked past her and pushed someone back and away from her. Someone she hadn’t even known was that close.

“You can fuck off. This one’s mine.” He barked, pulling her into his body. It felt more like an anchor, knowing she was safe in his arms, but of course- the man had to push it. Push him when he was already buzzing for a fight.

“C’mon man, can’t you share? Seems like you don’t have a problem letting her be seen-“ man, what a mistake.

To be fair, Harry was already on edge. But the idea of someone else thinking that his fucking girl was someone he’d ever share, even if he didn’t deserve her in the first place, made him see red.

As fast as he had pulled her in, he tucked her behind his back and swung his fist into the man’s stomach. It wasn’t the worst place, but he didn’t want to risk causing a huge scene when he was already on the lookout for a stalker. He was lucky that he couldn’t do what he truly wanted to do, that he had his girl behind him.

“Walk away while I let you.” He said lowly. “I took your breath but I can take a couple of teeth and your fucking memories of you don’t get the fuck away from my girl. You’re going to forget about her and fuck off, find someone else to stick your little dick into.”

“Alright, big guy.” Wiz appeared in front of them, knowing he needed to intervene and stepping between them. “It’s fine. He’s fucking off now because he knows that it’s for the best, right?” The guy was pale from the punch, still gasping for breath and holding his stomach, but he nodded nonetheless. “Good. Now, go.”

Harry wished he could do more. Wished this was his club so he could do worse, ever the irrational thinker when it came to Bunny, but it wasn’t. He had to stay out of jail so he could keep her safe, and that was the one thing he was counting on. If he didn’t get put away when he caught the one following her around, he surely would just from situations like this.

“I feel like I should be mad at you, but that was really sexy.” The girl of the hour giggled, a slight slur to her words as her hand tangled in his necklace. “Why do you do bad things and why does it make me horny, H?”

Like a switch, he placed his hands on her hips and narrowed his eyes at her. the anger easily translated over to arousal, fingers sliding down her sides and brushing over her ass before taking a bit of a grab. A little squeak left her, but she looked up at him expectantly. She was something fucking else. “Yeah? Y’liked it?” His tongue brushed over his bottom lip. “Do tell me what about it you liked-“

Wiz cleared his throat, making his stare break from hers with a scowl on his face. “Alright Romeo and Juliet. Have dry sex on the dance floor or whatever it is you do. I’ll keep watch for now.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #dark harry styles #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #biker!harry #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

[endeline]

Let The Light In: Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Words: 4k

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, mention of an injury, the girls are fighting!

It's her—actually her—, standing right in front of you, and for a brief moment you almost wonder if your mind had conjured up a hallucination to retaliate against the sheer force of your yearning. 

You've spent more time than you’ll ever admit imagining this moment, playing it out in various scenarios in your mind, but the reality has a sharpness that no rehearsal could have prepared you for. Her presence is a tangible, overwhelming, a reminder of what you had, of what you had lost.

“Hey, you good?” She repeats, her voice cutting through your racing thoughts, pulling you back down to earth. 

Blinking away the tears that are, embarrassingly, still brimming in your eyes, you take a deep breath before allowing yourself to reply. "Yeah, I'm good," the words feel hollow, a betrayal of the whirlwind of the emotion inside you. 

Paige doesn't respond; instead, she slightly rocks back and forth on her heels, her hands nervously fidgeting as an all too familiar silence envelops the two of you. Wordlessly still, she reaches for the chair in front of you and pulls it out, the both of you wincing at the loud screech it makes as it drags across the wooden floor. You don’t bother to hide the shock on your face as the blonde sits down across from you, her knees briefly brushing against yours before she swiftly tucks her legs to the side, avoiding your touch.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," her tone unusually light—almost friendly, which would be confusing if you had the ability to take note of it. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar cadence of her voice, bringing back a flood of memories, each one sharp, sweet, and painful.

“I feel like I have.”

____

“I hope we’re still doing this when we’re 80.” You say, grabbing another spoonful of her strawberry ice cream and plopping the pink desert into your bowl of cherry, mixing the two together before putting the spoon back into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum when you confirm you’ve finally gotten the perfect mix. Paige chooses to ignore how much you’ve taken out of her bowl, knowing that when you get full in a few minutes the remainder of yours will be scraped back into hers. 

“Doing what?” 

"Ice cream Thursdays, dummy," you clarify, abandoning your spoon just in time to catch a melting drop threatening to fall from her chin onto her shirt with the pad of your thumb. Pressing your finger against your lips to lick it clean.

She watches you, gaze shifting to the table when your eyes dart up to look at her again. “When we’re 80 you’ll probably be taking pictures of your husband and grandkids playing in your garden or something all cutesy and shit, you won’t be thinking about me.”

Ignoring the confusing pang in your chest when you hear her dismissal you lightly kick her shin under the table, “Oh come on, we’ll still be best friends when we’re 80, if anything I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids playing basketball and you’ll be trying to keep up with them in your walker.” 

This gets a chuckle out of her, “hopefully by then I’ll know better than to do anything but coach.”

You smile, pushing the now half empty dessert towards her for her to finish before leaning towards her, “okay then, I’ll be taking pictures of the grandkids with coach P.”

She digs into the remainder of your cherry strawberry mixture, bringing the spoon to her mouth before shaking her head and adding another spoonful of strawberry, “fine, but if we’re 80 and you still haven’t figured out how to get the right cherry strawberry mix, I’m canceling ice cream Thursday’s.” 

____

Her smile fades a bit, replaced by a more cautious expression as she changes the subject, her friendly façade faltering a bit as speaks. “You know, you’re still sharing your location with me.” 

"What?” 

“I wanted to find you and I realized you still share your location with me.”

"You wanted to find me?” you echo. The part of you that's been hoping for this moment at war with the part that's been dreading it.

"Yeah, I needed to see you.” You hear her sigh, debating whether to continue, “thought we could talk."

The sincerity in her tone is disarming, and despite the hurt, a part of you wants to lean into the familiarity of her presence, to the shared history you’re still desperately clinging too. 

"Talk?" 

She nods, swallowing hard. “About the pictures you took the other day…” She begins, her voice trailing off briefly as she looks away from you, her hands fidgeting slightly, “Charlie sent me copies of them.” 

“Oh, she’s not supposed to do that, you guys only get the final edits,” the words slipping out before you can think better of it. 

She looks back at you, a flicker of unease crossing her features. "I know, but I asked her too.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I wanted to see the ones Leo told you to stop taking.” 

After a moment that stretches on for longer than you would have liked, she exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know why I reacted like that, with the first shots. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Leo. I know how much his opinion means to you and I had been thinking that if you got me lectured by Geno I’d want an apology, so… yeah” she finishes

An un-familiar coldness washes over you as you digest her words.  “That’s what you want to apologize for?” You’re unable to keep the shock and anger from seeping into your voice. You lean back in your chair, arms crossing, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from the hurt you know she’s about to make you feel again.  

“That’s all I have to apologize for.” She retorts, keeping her voice low to avoid catching the attention of the strangers around us. 

The tension between you crackles, a palpable energy that draws an invisible wall, furthering the separation between the two of you.

"You think that's it?" Disbelief coloring your tone. "After ghosting your best friend without so much as an explanation, that's what you think you need to apologize for? A few pictures?"

She looks taken aback, perhaps not expecting your reaction to be so intense. For a moment, she is silent, her eyes darting away before meeting yours again, this time with a mixture of frustration and pain. 

"Come on, we were never even really friends.”

You can’t blink back the tears as they form in your eyes now, “don’t start lying to me now Bueckers.”

Paige recoils slightly, as if your words are physical blows. For a moment, she seems to be struggling with something, then her posture stiffens, an accusing finger reaching out to point at you as she doubles down on her statement, “we both know that I was just your muse or whatever the hell you want to call it. You did not treat me like a friend, you used me to get praise from Leo and whoever the hell else you thought you needed approval from. You took me for your art when I was at my lowest, again and again, just because my face got your work attention.” 

The accusation stings, not just because of its intensity, but because part of you knows there's some truth in it. You've always known how compelling she was in front of the camera, how her expressions could turn simple photos into art, and you loved it. 

Before everything fell apart, the two of you had become something of a dynamic duo. Everywhere Paige went, often for basketball, you followed, and everywhere you went, a camera was almost always hanging around your neck. 

The passion Paige had for her sport and the passion you had for your art is what originally brought the two of you together, bonding over the drive each of you had to constantly be your at your best, for better or for worse. 

____

It was your freshman year. You had just been offered a coveted spot on the UConn sports media team after your photojournalism professor, Leo Howard, had apparently spent the entire semester showing your work to his collogues who had unanimously agreed, you were going to be something special.  Being the only freshman to ever have been allowed to serve as the lead photographer at the school’s games was a big deal. The pressure not fully weighing down on you until the night before the UConn, Notre Dame women’s basketball game. 

They had started you out small, tennis, water polo, even a soccer match as your superiors had gained more confidence in you. But this would be the first big event you’d shoot, your first chance to really prove yourself, to prove that Leo was right about you. 

The clock had just struck midnight when you made your way across campus, having given up on trying to get any sleep earlier in the night. Opting instead to head to the athletics department gym where they had allowed you to stash away your things in a small, abandoned office room. Assuming that'd be better than staying cooped up in your dorm all night. 

When you arrived, instead of being greeted by the silent gym you’d anticipated, a woman was stood at the half court line, a basketball bouncing up to meet her outstretched palm before being pushed down, again, again, again. 

“The gym’s closed.” Her voice calls out to you, finally noticing you as you made your way across the court, heading for the office door. 

You had lifted your UConn Staff lanyard up to show to her, “I could tell you the same thing.” 

She approached you, your height difference becoming more apparent the closer she gets until she’s fully towering over you, “I don’t remember seeing you around here.” 

“I’m the new photographer, I just started last month.”

This explanation apparently does little to clarify your sudden appearance in her court, “okay, but you’re not supposed to be here, it’s late.” She points out, her tone mixing curiosity with a hint of concern.

“I know but I’m shooting my first big event tomorrow and I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d just come here and look at some old shots and stuff, prepare you know?” you rambled, hoping to justify your presence in the gym at such an unusual hour.

You’ve gotten her attention now, “Oh, I have a game tomorrow, is that what you’re here for?” 

You had of course, assumed she was on the basketball team when you saw her dribbling the ball earlier. But as when she had moved to stand in front of you, you immediately recognized her as the infamous Paige Bueckers, the star player you’d been specifically ordered to get good shots of during this game. 

"Yes, that's exactly it. I’ll be covering the game," you confirmed, feeling a slight relief as she seemed to recognize your role and accept the reason behind your late-night visit.

“Oh, cool, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?” 

You nod in response, “yeah, I guess you will.” 

She gives you a small smile before beginning to walk back to her original position on the court, “I’m Paige by the way!” She calls out as you reach the door, you turn back, shouting your name out, already anticipating the next time you’ll get to see her.

As it turns out, you don’t have to wait long. Barely 30 minutes have passed when you’re interrupted by a knock on your door, “hey,” she lets herself into the small office space, taking a seat on your desk. 

“Hey?” 

This girl has guts you can’t help but think. You’d just met and now she’s propping herself up on your furniture, uninvited. 

You’d probably be a lot more bothered by her behavior if you weren’t so distracted by how pretty she looked, even under the glow of the notoriously unflattering florescent office lights.  

“I was thinking, you need to practice shooting basketball games, and I’m just practicing shooting so if you wanted you could take pictures of me, you know, to get the hang of it you could.” She offers. 

“Oh, yeah that actually sounds great!” You're unable to keep your excitement about getting to spend more time with her entirely out of your voice when you reply, grabbing your camera bag as she moves off your desk to stand back up, holding the door open before following you back out to the court. 

“Honestly I’m kinda tired so I’m only doing free throws but feel free to take whatever pictures you want.” 

You take her words to heart, the clicks of your camera mingling with the pounding of the ball on the floor as you take picture after picture after picture. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall into a steady rhythm, occasionally daring to interrupt the other’s focus with questions, jokes, or quick quips about the others work. 

The next day whenever she gets a basket, her eyes turn to you first, pointing at your camera for you to get a shot, and every time she does, you take it. 

You’ve never seen Leo smile so big as he does when he gets your contact sheet.

The “You did good, kid. I hope to keep seeing more stuff like this.” echoing in your mind when you leave his office, calling Paige, “when’s the next time you can shoot?”

She had left practice the second she heard your voice over the phone, “I can be free now.” 

____

You’re abruptly pulled from your memory by the chime of the café door. A group of girls enters, their laughter and chatter filling the air. One girl stands out, wearing a stark white jersey with the number 5 displayed prominently across her chest. The sight of it jolts you back to the present, a reminder of where you are and what’s at stake.

“Paige we can’t do this here” you say keeping your voice low, sensing that this may not end well, and as Paige had just mentioned, any picture of her ends up everywhere, and if captured, this probably wouldn’t be a pretty one. 

She exhales sharply, her lips parting to argue, but then she pauses, scanning the surrounding area for any potentially prying eyes, brows raising when she sees her lucky number 5 on the chest of a brunette who is now whispering with her friends, looking Paige's way. With a reluctant nod, she chooses silence, perhaps unable to concede that you might be right.

The tension between you is palpable, a brewing storm that has been building for too long, promising to pour down on you both.

The two of you don’t make it far, her car is parked right outside and the second the doors lock she’s turned back to you, brows raised in anticipation of your rebuttal. 

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words to express the mix of anger and hurt that's been simmering inside you. “Let’s get one thing straight, if I wasn’t your best friend, you most certainly were not my ‘muse’.” you begin, unable to hold back the anger that’s been quietly brewing inside since you first heard her pathetic attempt at an apology 10 minutes ago. 

The sharp sound of her laughter interrupts you, “okay then, you were just using my face to further your career and you didn’t give a single fuck about me.” 

Your anger pulses hotter at her laughter. 

If you had thought the silence between you two was bad, then this must be hell. Everything she says, every expression she makes sends you spiraling deeper and deeper down.  You don’t even want to look at her anymore, scared that if you catch her gaze again, the once warm and loving looks you remember her by will be permanently tainted by the pure and utter distain that seems to be consuming her now. You want to reach out, to say something that will mend the rift, but fear and doubt hold you back. In this moment, you realize just how fragile your connection has become, teetering on the edge of collapse.

"I wasn't using you," you assert firmly, struggling to keep your voice level. "Yes, you've helped my career—that's undeniable. But that was never the only thing you were for me. Our friendship, what I thought was our friendship, meant more to me than any photo ever could."

Paige's laughter fades, and she looks at you, her expression hardening as she processes your words. 

"It didn't feel that way to me," she shoots back, her voice tight. "Every time you needed something for your portfolio or an exhibit, who did you turn to, not any of your other friends, me. Don’t you think that’s a little strange.” 

The accusation stings, God she really knew nothing about you, did she? 

“I reached out to you because I thought you liked it. Every time I took something you posted it, on media days you always requested me specifically, even when we were freshman and there were people who knew much more than I did, so don’t try to delude yourself, we both benefited from this. But at least I was under the impression that we liked spending time together, that it wasn't all just so I could get more praise for my pictures.” 

She stares at you, her expression blank, as if your words are too much for her to process.

"You actually need to just leave now," her hand reaching to unlock the car doors while she motions for you to exit.

“No," you reply appalled, "you can't just kick me out because I made a good point.” 

She lets out a dismissive scoff, her hands moving to grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with tension."This is my car and I’m asking you to leave.” 

Your eyes narrow feeling a sudden surge of familiar desperation. “You’ve walked away from me once, I’m not about to let you do it again.” 

She just stares at you, her gaze cold and unwavering, each of you refusing to be the one to break eye contact with the other. 

“If you really thought I was using you, why on earth would you continue agree to every single shoot for 2 years? Even if you don't think I do I know you, you wouldn't have done that. So why are you really shutting me out Paige?” You press, watching her closely. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing your fear of losing her for good.

She diverts her gaze, her eyes finally falling away from yours. Staying silent for a full minute before she straightens up, seemingly gathering her composure, and shifts the conversation topic away from her wrongdoings and back to yours.

 “Intentions don’t matter anymore. Actions do. And your actions have shown me exactly where I stand in your life. Tell me again, what's your most famous photo, huh?"

It's a low blow, and it doesn’t take long for you to catch onto what she’s talking about. The two of you have had quite a few viral moments but one far surpassed the other. There was only one picture that had landed a coveted cover spot on the headlined article on ESPN, a place in CNN’s ‘This Week in Pictures’ and internship offers from all the way in New York to L.A. 

____

She had crumpled to the ground, clutching her knee in agony, silencing the crowd in an instant. Her teammates had quickly formed a barrier around her, protecting her. Through a narrow gap between them, her eyes, wide and brimming with pain and vulnerability, darted around frantically until they finally locked onto yours. 

It was a look of pure, raw emotion—a silent plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the familiar presence that had always been her anchor. Her hand reached out, trembling, as if by some miracle, your touch could erase the pain. And in that moment, as she reached desperately towards you, almost mechanically, you lifted your camera. 

The weight of it felt heavier than ever before. Looking through the viewfinder, you saw her in perfect focus, every detail of her suffering magnified. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and despair, seemed to question your every move.

As you pressed the shutter, capturing the raw, gut-wrenching moment, a pang of guilt surged through you. The image was powerful, a testament to her strength and vulnerability, but it came at a cost.

Lowering the camera, you were left standing there, the echo of the shutter still ringing in your ears. You wanted to drop everything and run to her, but the moment had passed. The damage was done. Her eyes, now filled with a sense of betrayal, lingered on you before she turned away, her teammates closing ranks around her once more.

____

You gape at her, a million thoughts running through your mind, none of them coherent enough to form a sentence. You thought about this picture frequently; its creation was instinctive, driven by a reflex that you hadn't fully understood even as you pressed the shutter.  You’d always (foolishly) assumed that she had known that you never meant for the photo to get out. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness where your professional instincts overpowered your personal loyalty.

It was never meant to be published—but Leo had discovered it, and from there, it spiraled out of your control, gaining a life of its own in the public eye. The image, once released, spread like wildfire. It became the defining shot of your career and the defining wound of hers.

“Paige, I-“

She shakes her head no, her expression eerily similar to the one in the picture that ruined the two of you.  “Please just leave,” she repeats, her normally deep voice an octave lower with the intensity of the emotion coursing through her words. 

Realizing you have no ground left to stand on, the least you can do is abide by her request. You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you. 

"And for the record," she begins, answering your earlier question, "I always agreed to those photos because I loved you and I thought maybe, just maybe, if I helped you get what you wanted, it might make you love me back.”

Her confession wrenches a sudden and uncontrollable sob from your throat, you want nothing more than to shut the door, wrap your arms around her, and beg for the forgiveness you know deep down you’ll never deserve until your heart gives out. 

But instead you stand, exiting the car and turning to her one last time, speaking up through tears, "I can't justify what I did with that picture, and I know that if I spent every moment of my life trying to make it up to you, I'd still fall short," you say, your voice choked with regret. 

Taking a deep breath, you looking up before meeting her gaze again. "And I know I didn’t show it well, but I loved you too."

She looks away, blinking back tears, her shoulders trembling, she whispers, her voice barely audible, repeating the words you’d uttered just a few minutes before, “don’t lie to me.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #fanfic #angst #wbb #uconn women’s basketball

[dunmeshistash]

do you have any thoughts about Kabru kissing Rin as a way to make her notice they're in a illusion? why would he go with that lmao, at first I was like "oh they're a couple! she recognized her bf's kiss and understood the situation, how cute!" but they're not a couple, Rin has a crush on him ofc but he sees her kinda like a sister canonically. why Kabru with all his understanding of humans and all that would make the poor girl think she was being kissed by a fucking giant fish at first 😭

maybe in the anime it's more clear? I finished the manga already but I'm a little behind on the episodes

It's exactly because he understands that he did that!

That was the first time we saw how powerful Kabru can be, because his great understanding of his teammates allowed him to recognize them thru the Illusion.

He did this because he knows her, he says himself it's "the best non violent way to stop a mage from casting a spell" like, he could knock her out or use force to cover her mouth but he wanted to shock her into stopping so she wouldn't get hurt.

He thinks of her a sister but she isn't actually his sister and he for sure knows she's in love with him.

He even teases her after while apologizing. She also knows Kabru tho so she doesn't take the kiss seriously either, she probably knows he didn't mean anything by it. (I think it's kinda sweet she still likes him even tho she has seen past his charms. His whole party kinda understand him past the surface charm and know how he acts and still stick with him I love them.)

Kabru understands people but he also uses people, so it's not so strange he did something that was uncomfortable for Rinsha because it was what he deemed the best way to deal with the situation if you ask me. He loves people but he's also a nuanced character like the others that does questionable things, in the grand scheme of things making Rin kiss a fish wasn't so bad tho.

#Kabru is my favorite character after Mithrun #ask #anonymous #Kabru #dunmeshi thoughts #Dungeon meshi manga

[th3lovely1]

Caitlin Clark Headcanons

♡♡♡♡♡

-Bullet point form😗

- Heated stuff and all that

♡♡♡♡♡

Sfw

• Is protective of you but not in the crazy obsessive way. She just feels better when you're in her view in public and likes to make sure you're next to her.

• When someone's hitting on you, she knows that you can handle it, but if the person can't take a hint, then she has no problem stepping in. I don't see her as a big fist fighter, so she tries to deal with the situation by talking, but if it doesn't work, then she'll throw hands for you.

• Lovesss laying on you

"Hun, I can't breathe"

"Just a little longer, beautiful"

"I can't hold my breath for that long"

• She will always joke about your height no matter what. If you're taller than her or shorter, she doesn't care. She makes so many corny jokes. If you're shorter then her she does that thing where she rests her arm on your head. And she'll also just pick you up sometimes and leave you in the air. She thinks it's so funny.

"Cait, you better get your arm off me"

"Y'all hear that?"

And it's the same if you're taller than her. She'll still make corny jokes whenever she can.

"How's the weather up there?"

"I know you're not talking"

• She's not very public about your relationship. She'll still post you on her socials and stuff, but she's not doing it every day. But when she gets questions about you in interviews or lives, she always makes sure that people know how big her love is for you.

"Oh, Y/n? She is the light of my life. She's always supported me through this and has been the rock that keeps me stable. She's part of the reason why I'm here today. I wouldn't ask for anyone else"

• Her love language would probably be physical touch and gift giving. She gets busy with basketball, so she gets you little gifts when she can. And when she's shopping and sees something you like, it's automatically in her cart. But when you guys get alone time, she's all over you. She'll follow you like a lost puppy😭. And even in public, she feels better whenever she's touching you. Doesn't matter if it's holding hands or just your arms touching

Nsfw

• The eye contact, omg. Doesn't matter if she's finger deep in you or how messy you think you look, she wants you to look at her

"Eyes on me, baby. I know you can do it"

• Sooo much praise. Always makes sure that you know that you're just doing so good for her.

"Just like that, sweet thing. There you go, such a good girl"

• I don't think she'd be too big about degradation. She uses it but only when she's upset or something like that. But when she does, it's not hard-core. More stuff like "slut" and "brat" just the basics.

•Her hands. That's all I gotta say

• Makes sure that you finish at least 2 or 3 times before she gets attention. But even then she's still making you cum

"You can take it, babe. Don't worry, I got you"

• Anything in public is a no-go. The only thing that she'll do is some teasing.

• Loves when you pull her hair

• Aftercare is the best. She always makes sure you're taken care of

"Did such a good job for me, hun"

#x reader #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #wlw post #wlw #lesbian #caitlin clark headcannons #wbb #wnba #fan fic smut

[ewingstan]

If you had a chance to recommend (real-world) superhero comics to the Undersiders, which comics would you recommend and why?

Oh, good question. Its been a minute since I was really into comics (I gotta figure out how to reactivate my Marvel Unlimited account), but I think I have enough background to come up with some good picks.

Lotta good options for Taylor. My first thought is to give her Ewing's X-Men Red (aka "the main reason I need to catch up on Marvel comics"), since a superhero story that focuses a lot on gaining and maintaining societal power and the work of governing as a leader in a super-community seems like it would appeal to the Warlord of the Boardwalk. Plus a lot of it is "kill the previous leader in a way that ensures you have a popular mandate," which I'm sure she'd be a fan of.

If we're talking Taylor at the start of the story or younger—well, I don't know if it makes sense to give her runs of the character she's most a pastiche of, but maybe something that fits the Spider-Man niche could still be appealing for a young down-on-her-luck aspiring hero? I could see her getting something out of the Simone or Ahmed Ms. Marvel runs, for instance.

(While Watchmen might seem like the natural pick, I'm pretty sure she'd lose a lot of enjoyment just from picking out all the ways Veidt's plan was obviously gonna fail for x y z reasons. Also dark deconstructions of superhero worlds would probably seem too familiar to her world for her to enjoy it.)

If Taylor would be interested in comics statecraft, Lisa would probably be more interested in comics spycraft and intrigue. Ewing's S.W.O.R.D. would probably scratch the same itch for her that X-Men Red would for Taylor (and Storm dramatically blowing off Doom would probably satisfy her after all the ulcer-inducing negotiations with Accord.) I might also give her Ewings New Avengers and USAvengers runs (look this is gonna include a lot of Al Ewing recs, get used to it early) if only because I feel like she'd enjoy how Roberto gets characterized in those comics. Magnificent bastard solidarity.

If we're giving comics to Brian, we already need to work past his defensive avoidance of anything that seems too childish, so I don't think we're getting anything pre-dark ages. That said, he famously thinks "looking mature" means "sick-ass skulls and leather jackets," so his idea of maturity might skew a bit into McFarlane territory. Ultimately though I think he'd be most comfortable with something where he could plausibly say "this isn't just a comic, it's actually a well-respected piece of literature." I'd want that to mean Moore's Saga of the Swamp Thing, but it'd probably actually mean The Dark Knight Returns.

As a dark horse pick, I'd give Brian some early New Warriors or Ewing's Contest of Champions, if only because Night Thrasher feels so close to what he wants his vibe to be (dramatic black leather ensemble with a very 90's idea of cool, unflappable expert strategist who pulls his weight despite a powerset with limited applicability, died horribly and came back much later for weirdly impersonal reasons) while also being just ridiculous enough to make me want to see his reaction.

Given Iota's commentary on Alec's pizza habits, I'd think Alec would most be a fan of something intense and bombastic and not mind if its often repetitive. I'd almost say Berserk would be a good match for him, but parts of that that might actually be triggering for him. Maybe some other ultra-violent longrunning work; I haven't read Fist of the North Star but it seems like a safe recommendation; various X-Force runs could work if we're sticking with Western comics.

Rachel really doesn't seem like someone who'd have much appreciation for any aspect of comics. The best bet would be something visually spectacular in a way that could be appreciated on its own, and a plot that's interesting taking issues on their own and not just as part of ongoing runs. I could see Ewing's Immortal Hulk as fitting those criteria; her power gives her an artist's appreciation for Bennett's horrific depictions of the Hulk's transformations (even if praising Bennett for anything feels in poor taste).

Ewing's scripts for each issue of Hulk are clever in a way that I feel Rachel could find entertaining; they don't require an attention she couldn't keep up, but also aren't simple to the point of being condescending. Plus, the thematic focus on "what can and can't be solved through unspeakable acts of destruction" would feel familiar in a way that's less frustrating than normal comic tut-tutting about how obviously we can't attack these guys (plus the greater willingness to say "oh yeah unspeakable destruction definitely is the best way forwards here" would be pretty satisfying).

I feel like Aisha would have more patience for comic tropes than a lot of the other undersiders, (I could see her enjoying the original Fantastic Four run), but at the same time she'd probably enjoy something a bit more complicated and out-there. Ewing's Rocket might be appealing as heist-focused mini, and I feel like the mix of melancholy and absurdity would appeal to her. Rosenberg's Hawkeye: Freefall would work for similar reasons, though replace "melancholy" with "simmering rage."

Morrison's Doom Patrol and The Invisibles both have characters Aisha might relate to for the whole "society largely ignoring or wanting to go away" thing. Plus they both have big weird ideas she'd appreciate, Richard Case's art works well with her aesthetics, and they're both seen as "respectable" series to the point that she might like peppering in references to them in alongside Jules Verne jokes.

Huh, I just realized that Aisha and Brian both ended up chasing an appearance of being mature and somewhat surface-level and off-putting ways. Brian "trust me I'm a normal adult man" and Aisha "I've compiled spider-man quips for every work in the Western Canon and will get frustrated when you don't get them" Laborn, the "something ain't right about that kid" siblings.

(I will say that Morrison's Doom Patrol has some weird black stereotypes so if anyone wants to pitch me on a similar work without Morrison's occasional racism I'd be curious).

I'd give Rowell's run on Runaways to Sabah, if only because "somewhat antivillanous found family group of teens that mostly don't have to worry about anything besides relationship drama" sounds like a nice escape for her. Closer to what she wants the Undersiders to be like. Also, I feel she'd enjoy Kris Anka's focus on fashion in his art.

I don't have a lot to go off for Lily. I could see some of the more recent Captain Marvel runs appealing to her sense of true-blue militant heroism. Ayala's New Mutants or Ahmed's Black Bolt might help combat her whole "villains are ontologically evil" thing, at least to a certain extent.

#apologies for all the al ewing picks but. Cmon. You all know what im about. #greatwyrmgold #wormblr #wildbow #parahumans #mals reads worm #mals says #undersiders

[drmaddict]

Want to be messed up together?

Summary: Some traumas are smaller, but they are still there. Simon learns more about his girlfriend's childhood. They are so different and yet so alike.

Wordcount: 577

Author's note: No this is not based on me. I don't know where you got that from. It's a character on its own and has nothing to do with the author.

"I mean my mum was also the 'stop crying or I'll give you a reason to cry' type, but-"

Simon looked up in surprise. He had heard them both talking on the phone. They seemed familiar. Although she seemed more cautious with her mum. Not drastic, but more diplomatic in nature.

"Did she hit you?", he blurted out immediately.

She shook her head quickly. "No! I mean, there was the odd slap on the back of the head or on the bum, but she didn't hurt me... Although she often took me aside, when I was... well, when I was too annoying. I can only vaguely remember. I remember that it happened, but... well, not exactly what happened." Her eyes looked into the past. Looked at scenes that Simon couldn't see. "She never hurt me."

Simon got all stiff. "You know she still shouldn't have done that."

She nodded again. "No, she shouldn't have." She ran her finger over her coffee-to-go cup and pressed her lips together. "Well, she had a lot of stress back then, was probably in a permanent pre-burn-out, and didn't know how to do it better. She did her best... and failed." She smiled with sad eyes and looked at Simon. "She's trying, so I'm trying to forgive her."

Simon looked into her eyes. Understood her a little more. Her shyness. Her fear of doing something wrong. How nervous she got, when she thought, she was annoying someone. Her desire to get through everyday life as peacefully as possible. Why she never cried in front of him, no matter how obvious it was, why she ran to the bathroom.

He carefully placed a hand on hers. He saw her eyes gleam wetly, but she blinked rapidly and breathed in and out once hard.

"Your father?"

"Oh, he was just there watching his animal documentaries.", she waved him off. "When I was in tenth grade, he took one look at me at dinner once and asked me how much longer I was going to go to school... There was one incident, because I was too annoying again, but that was it. Although he was always strangely proud of the day."

"I'm sure my therapist would have her fun with you.", he mumbled. He hadn't expected the laughter that followed.

"I'm sure she would." She smiled sadly again. "I went to one once", she explained. "When I told her that I was already aware, where all of my problems came from and that I would rather know how to break out of my behavioural patterns, she just said that she couldn't just tell me what to do. 'You need to reflect and make a connection. If you understand, you'll act differently." She rolled her eyes. "I've been waiting a good ten years to find and get a place. Doesn't she think I've ever had the idea to think my life apart like this? And yet I'm still stuck. If yours is more solution-orientated, I'm happy to give it a chance."

Simon had to grin slightly. "No. Sounds just like mine. 'You need to feel your feelings Mr. Riley'. I thought I did.", he mimicked her.

She laughed. "I thought I was the only one who didn't understand. 'I can't tell you how to do it. You just have to know.' Yes, but unfortunately I don't know."

Simon laughed. She looked happier at his face again. "Want to be messed up together?"

Simon smiled and nodded.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod fanfic #cod men

[obsidianbaby]

I DONT SHARE

PART TWO OF FUCKING BROWNIES read pt 1 here :

synopsis - you've been best friends with the triplets for a few years and you're currently visiting them in LA. After your hot sneaky hook up with chris, matt cannot keep his attention off of you.

warnings/notes - angst, matt! x reader, fingering, spit kink, voyeurism, choking, slight praise kink, themes of possession

a/n - this is the sequel of my first ever sturniolo smut so i hope y'all like where the plot is goingggggg (she thick) okok enjoy mwah

_____________________________________________

It's after 11pm and the brownies finished baking an hour ago, the boys and I are currently enjoying them on the couch while watching a movie.

I sit squished between chris and nick, leaning on nick's shoulder with his arm around me and my legs extended across chris's lap, his hands mindlessly rubbing my legs. Matt sits uninterested and incredibly quiet on the furthest part of the couch from us, face buried in his phone.

"Matt you good?" Chris asks looking over at Matt from his spot on the couch beside me. Matt ignores him and continues to stare blankly at his phone.

"Mattttttt are you going to try our brownies or what??" I ask staring at him wondering what's crawled up his ass in the past hour.

At the sound of my voice he looks up from his phone at me for a mere second before returning his attention to his phone.

"If you don't have some now these fuckers are going to end up finishing the pan" Nick says looking towards Matt. Matt heavy sighs and puts his phone down before turning to us.

"Nah im good, not hungry." he says cooly.

"what? bro I thought you wanted some brownies..?" Chris asks smirking in confusion looking from Matt to me, I shrug my shoulders at him.

"yeah not anymore, lost my appetite for brownies. I think i'll just go clean up the kitchen." He replies, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

"sounds good to me" Nick adds jokingly.

"wait let me help you" I say, sitting up getting ready to stand up. Chris tightens his grip on my legs and looks at me intensely. I bite my lip at the feeling of his grip on my legs and I raise my eyebrow at him. He just shakes his head and pouts at me, not wanting me to leave my place from the couch. I just roll my eyes at him and continue to get off the couch following Matt into the kitchen.

"what can I do to help?" I ask matt politely while standing beside him at the counter.

without looking over at me he scoffs, "you're grown do you really need me to assign you a task?"

baffled but not wanting to poke the bear I step away from him and start to gather the utensils and mixing bowls to wash in the sink.

I start to mindlessly hum while washing the dishes in the sink and matt walks up closely behind me softly saying, "I was going to wash the dishes" i feel his hot breath on my neck.

"don't worry i've got it how about you just go watch the movie matt, i know you're not feeling well" I say keeping my body turned towards the sink.

"excuse me? What makes you think i'm not feeling good?" he asks with an tone.

"probably because of your sudden attitude?" I say bluntly as i continue to focus on washing the dishes. He lets out an unamused chuckle before wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

"I'm fine, really" he says, nuzzling his head into my neck.

"are you sure? you can tell me what's bugging you ya know?" i say lowly so only he can hear. He shifts behind me and sighs, his arms lazily hugging me still.

"i know but i'm fine" he whispers against my neck, shivers erupt down my spine.

"okayyyy whatever you say matthew" I say as i finish putting the clean dishes on the drying rack. I turn around in his arms and let him hug me tightly, putting my face in his chest.

"hey are you coming back to watch the movie?" chris calls suddenly from the couch and i swing my head towards him, his jaw clenching.

"uh yeah I just want to wipe down the table and counters first." Chris gives me a thumbs up and goes back to watching the movie. "Matt are you gonna join us after i finish cleaning?" I ask breaking apart the hug to look up at him. He smiles at me and nods.

"only if i can have my turn with you as my blanket." He says smiling cheekily. I laugh and shake my head at him.

"of course matt I know how to share" I say with a wink before turning away from his hold to wipe down the counters and table. Matt just leans against the sink and watches me contently. "hey i thought you came in here to clean?" I say teasingly to matt, my back to him as i bend over the table to reach the other side with the cloth. I can feel matts stare on me and I turn around the face him, his eyes already locked on mine and he blushes.

"yeah but you gave me the day off so" he says crossing his arms across his chest smiling at me.

"whatever. I'm done now anyways lets go" I say, tugging his arms and he gives up his hold and allows me to tug him to the couch with me.

He takes a seat beside chris leaving an obvious spot in the middle of him and chris for me to take. I sit in between them deciding to keep to myself.

Chris immediately leans his head on my shoulder and i can feel matt staring at us. I look over to matt and he smiles before grabbing my legs and pulling me closer to him so my legs lay horizontally across his lap, my ass half on his lap. Chris shifts his position and pulls my shoulders gently so that my head rests on his lap and he begins to run his fingers through my hair.

"well you three look incredibly comfortable, I'm gonna head up to bed now" Nick says standing up before turning to me, "and thanks for cleaning up the kitchen" he smiles, continuing to the stairs up to his room.

"hey i helped" matt adds jokingly.

"wrong" I say looking at matt.

"you did not" nick adds before disappearing up the stairs.

"not my fault you didnt let me" matt says raising his hands up and i roll my eyes.

While chris continues to run his fingers through my hair, matt places his hands firmly on my thighs, his fingers resting in between. Matt starts to softly trace his fingers along the inside of my thighs and my core begins to tighten.

I look at Matt with a questioning look and he just winks cheekily at me continuing to rub my inner thighs, causing my panties to grow wetter by the second. My breathing starts to pick up and its as if chris can hear my raising heartbeat, he looks down at me from where my head rests on his lap.

"you good?" he asks quietly, gently caressing my cheek with his hand to tilt my face towards him. I nod not being able to get any words out worried that a moan might escape my lips instead. He smirks at me and turns his attention back to the tv.

When i notice chris's attention is no longer on me apart from his hands buried in my hair, i look back at matt, his gaze still on me, making my cheeks flush.

I look down at his hands that keep inching further and further up my inner thighs towards my heat thats now pulsing so hard he can probably feel it.

"hey chris, pass me that blanket will ya?" matt nods to the blanket beside chris. Chris reaches beside him and hands the blanket over my head to matt. Matt lays the blanket over our laps now shielding his hands that are currently tracing lines around my bikini line.

I bite my lip holding matt's intense gaze and he smirks at me before he finally breaks the stare and turns to watch the movie. He then leans over to the coffee table, grabbing the remote and turns the tv up to a ridiculous volume.

Chris looks over at matt, "dude are you deaf?"

"i just turned it up a little relax" matt says while he watches the movie intently and i watch him. He then looks over at me sensing my stare, "be a good girl and watch the movie" he says quietly, before turning back to the tv. I gulp hard and do what he says, licking my lips with anticipation.

Matt's hands suddenly graze under my shorts and start playing with the hem of my panties causing my to involuntarily buck my hips. Chris snaps his attention to me and then to matt and then back to me with a questioning look.

"sorry im fine" I say instantly looking over at Matt who has a cocky smile on his face as he continues to watch the tv.

"hey i just gotta move you for a sec," chris suddenly says, gently moving my jaw to look up at him, "i'll be right back okay?"

"mhm" i respond as chris smoothly scooches his lap from under my head and walks away down the hall towards the bathroom.

Matt whips his head towards where chris just walked off to and then down at me and he smiles, "how long do you think he'll be?" his eyes looking black with hunger.

"why? you tryna get handsy with me while chris is in the bathroom down the hall?" i say jokingly trying to act like what matt is doing to me isn't driving me fucking insane.

"hmm i dunno..." he says as he lets his fingers slip under my panties and he quickly runs his fingers through my slick once.

"matt!" i gasp, "what the fuck are you doing...?" i say trying hard to hide the smirk growing on my face.

"what? you said you know how to share, dont you? and I want to take my turn now." he says daringly as he intently holds my stare while he slips his fingers through my slick once more. "do you not want to share with me anymore?" he asks, bringing his thumb to my sensitive bud and pressing down firmly on it, my hips bucking up against his touch.

"fuck matt please" i say my head rolling back and my legs relaxing into his touch.

"i'll take that as a yes" he says as he moves his fingers through my slick a few times before he plunges two into my heat as deep as he can. my hips jolt and i moan his name.

"atta girl" he says as he continues to pump his fingers hard against my spongy walls, curling them up perfectly to hit my sweet spot with every thrust.

the knot in my stomach building as he works his finger inside of me and he brings his other hand to grab my throat grabbing firmly. I gasp at his movement and look up at his blown out pupils.

"matt" i whine through suppressed breaths and he smiles devilishly at me, his thumb pressing firm tight circles on my clit.

"i know you may enjoy sharing, but i don't" he says biting his lip as he watches my face scrunch with pleasure. I look at him with a raised brow.

"wha what do you mean?' i mumble

"i mean you're mine and i dont share." he says nodding towards the bathroom where chris walked off to minutes ago. I begin to open my lips again but my word are taken from me as he adds a third finger inside me, slamming them against my sweet spot and i moan out his name.

"open your mouth" he says, his hand still firmly gripping my neck and i part my lips staring up at him. He spits in my mouth, "swallow" he says cooly and i do. "good girl".

"matt m'gonna cum" i mumble, my head getting dizzy from his grip around my neck and the knot in my stomach hanging on the edge.

"uh uh uh not until you agree with me" his hungry eyes looking intensely into mine, his three digits slowing their pace inside of me causing me to clench my thighs around his hand.

"agree with what matt?" i say through labored breaths.

"that you're mine" he says, leaning his face towards mine as he moves his hand from around my neck to my jaw and grips it firmly, lifting my face to meet his. I bite my lip at his words, knowing what he is implying at.

"matt please" i beg, pain starting to take over from my high not being reached.

"say it"

"im yours matt only yours"

and with my words he plunges his fingers knuckle deep into my heat as he aggressively pushes his lips onto mine. The kiss is hungry and needy and he forces my lips apart with his tongue to explore.

my walls clench around his fingers and i moan into his mouth, and he continues to twirl his tongue around mine, fingers deep inside of me as i ride out my high.

once the waves of my arousal stop pouring out around his fingers he removes them and sticks them into his mouth, watching me intently as he sucks and licks my juices from them.

"you taste better than i thought you would." he says casually and i laugh at his words trying to process my second orgasm of the night.

"what the fuck matt" i say slumping into the couch, bringing my hands up to my neck where i can still feel the pressure of where his grip was.

chris comes strolling into the kitchen from the hallway and matt grins at me, his fingers still in his mouth.

"hey matt did you finally get a taste?" he asks as he makes his way to the couch sitting next to where my head rests.

we both look over to him in shock at his words.

"the brownies..?" he asks curiously, pointing to the tray still sitting on the coffee table.

"oh yeah i got a taste." matt responds, removing his fingers from his mouth.

"and..? what do ya think?" chris asks.

"fucking perfect." matt states, smiling at me.

_____________________________________________

CHRIS POV

The way matt's not even hiding it, rubbing her thighs right beside me for me to see.. I can feel her breathing heavily in my lap, watching her licking her lips and staring at him.

As soon as matt asked for the blanket i knew he was going to try something and fuck me i couldn't stay to watch it, I had to leave the room, seeing her body react like that from matt's touch and not mine?

Once I got to the bathroom i splashed some cold water on my face and sat down on the floor.

Minutes pass and I could hear her fucking gasping and moaning his name. Which I hate to admit got me hard. so hard that it ached, not having jerked off my previous boner from earlier tonight with her in the kitchen.

I sit, leaned against the door and close my eyes, listening to her moans and imagining im the one thats pulling them from her instead as i slip my hand around my hard cock and pump until i finish with her.

___________________________________________

a/n - i had the roughest plan for this when i first started cooking so the ending is just as surprising to us both. Hope yall enjoyed ittttttttttt. part 3 anyone? <3

dts - @adg-h16 @stasiesturn @thatssocancelled @aurizp @maryx2xx @sturnthepot @nickgetsmewetter @schlutt4matty @fratbrochrisgf @lovingregulusblack @annasturn0lo @thepubeburgler @6ix9inewiturmom @ribread03 @gabrielle-brun1 @trevor-777 @mattslolita @mattsgf68903 @aliceloveschris @starsturns234

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #smut #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris x reader #the sturniolo triplets

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck, family & alcoholism

Collection of thoughts and speculation on Chil’s upbringing, his dynamic with his family and how alcoholism ties into it all. If you want the groundwork info on Chil’s background I recommend my masterpost on his family, here it’s really just me speculating from the crumbs we get of his parents and siblings, how it’s all affected him and in turn affected his own wife and kids etc etc.

There’s nothing more I’d like on mother’s day than to speculate about Chilchuck’s maladaptive attachment style. I’m fascinated by how distant everyone is and how much he’s been devoted to them all despite having been so absent. Intergenerational trauma get over here

Actually it’ll be easier if I make a rundown here too, it’s just stuff I reiterate from my masterpost tho.

Tiny table of contents: 1- rundown: family facts 2- rundown: alcoholism 3- dad 4- parenting 5- daughters 6- wife

^ Every time his dad gets mentioned. His mom never gets mentioned. His siblings I think are only ever mentioned in this extra, and then there are more ambiguous relatives cameos.

We know is hometown isn’t Kahka Brud, but we’re not sure wether he moved there upon getting his own house (presumably around when he got married at 13), or if it’s only after his wife when he rented out his place to relatives then rented the place in Kahka Brud.

If he rented it out to relatives, maybe that meant it was in his hometown? Especially if he and his siblings are "almost strangers" so presumably he doesn’t really keep in touch with his family. And I mean, he hasn’t seen his wife or daughter in 4 years so you can imagine how he’s like with his more distant family…

Additionally half-foots and Chil are very coded to be from an impoverished opressed working class people. So that’s the context.

I’ll say that I mentioned intergenerational trauma at the beginning, and I def think the distrust of elves is part of that, but here I want to focus on the interpersonal effects rather.

Copy pasting my masterpost thoughts overall: Chilchuck is hinted to have had a rather dysfunctional family himself (alcoholic father, distant siblings, etc). So he doesn’t really have the best model on how to raise someone and such. I imagine it was a sort of neglectful home situation, where the kids are encouraged to be independent. If they didn’t have to work or help around much, then a free range parenting sort of thing.

We do see how the family has full and warm feasts, where someone cleans his mouth with a rag, so it’s not like he didn’t have caring people or had a tragic childhood though! I don’t remember if it’s explicitely stated but he’s heavily implied to having grown up poor, as most half-foots, and I just think it’s the hardened hardworking family type of childhood where just like he does with others, they instilled somewhat harsh life lessons in him, which in turn encourages him to indulge in the simple pleasures of life like alcohol and sex, or at least women’s beauty and crass jokes. We do see he seems more optimistic when he’s younger in flashbacks, so a bunch of his harsh view on the world is still likely learned and earned rather than taught.

I still think he inherited many flawed views from how his father acted, like his attitude about excessive drinking not being a big deal, it being worth it. That work hard play hard, enjoy life die young mentality he has, shown mostly in the “alcohol” section of his Adventurer’s Bible profile, could very well be partly a result of the general poverty half-foot communities are that he grew in as well, like how he doesn’t hope for things to be as best as they could be and contends with good enough.  As far as I remember, his mother is never mentioned, but I doubt it implies she was out of the picture. She was probably a regular sort of mother that took care of the home and was still around when his father died, not unlike how Chil’s wife was implied to be a housewife. It looks like there’s a good age gap between one sibling to the next, that could be interesting to speculate about too. Mostly though I think it’s big family because it’s just sorta what happens when you regularly have sex and you don’t have contraception, being poor often makes family planning harder for various reasons and leads to more children.

Alcoholism context rundown:

Good Chilchuck analysis baseline here. Alcohol seems to be his main stress reliever/coping mechanism, especially for how emotionally constipated he is, and his job is being stressed about his party’s safety. Then he also mentions as a changeling that having his senses dulled feels relaxing to him, further confirming alcohol, as a drug that dulls senses, is something that he likes for the intoxication aspect and feels it’s relaxing. Alcohol also acts as a hunger suppressant, so it for sure has played a role in his dieting and unhealthy eating/diet habits, especially since he shows the instinct to drink to soothe hunger, all of that about how going hungry for 3 days used to feel manageable. Chil dieting info compiled here.

Chilchuck is at his most effortlessly cheerful when drunk or drinking. Compilation of every time he was drunk here.

And to be clear, a cheerful drunk is still a drunk. He literally will drink anytime he gets the opportunity to even if he’s aware overdrinking leads to health problems and death. Like canonically. He does NOT see how drinking should be a problem and does not seek to show restraint with it.

Dad of the dad

Marcille and Chilchuck having a talk on how losing a dad be like "You lost your dad young too…? I know how it is, it must have hit you hard…" "No not really tbh. Do you want lasagna or chicken for dinner?" <- either genuinely doesn’t feel much about his dad’s death or has 10 layers of repression, idk which is worse

I think Chil not making a big deal out of his dad’s death, not having worries in following into his footsteps that way in the least, is super interesting.

As a buddy @saccharineomens puts it: " I kinda imagine chilchuck and his dad didn't have a bad relationship, but in general chilchuck is so blase about drinking (he sees it as a delightful time, a wonderful thing! he wouldn't mind dying doing something he loved!) that he's not very upset about his dad's passing? like "yeah, he died, but i was already an adult, he was an adult, he made his choices, i make my choices, it's cool" " And I’ll nitpick that we don’t know how old he was when his dad died, I always assumed it was pretty early since Chil left home when he got married, and like I’ve gone into he doesn’t seem to be the keep in touch type. It’s on the table though, and he could have learned about it through letter if nothing else and that contributes to the "meh" reaction.

And that is very Chilchuck, the whole "we made our choices, it is how it is, he died doing something he loved", and you can totally believe that that’s the crux of it, but I do think the nonchalance hints at the family overall being distant and not only the siblings, that there’s dysfunctional shenanigans going on in there more than just… Healthy coping and having moved on.

I wonder when Chil first drank… And I wonder how he came to realize he liked alcohol a lot. His father probably gave him sips… Or he stole them

No because, with how disaffected he is about his father and siblings I could definitely see him having started to kind of numb himself/dissociate with the help of alcohol in that home environment that felt so… Either devoid of feelings or too messy to get attached.

Because too… We saw him have a family/community feast of some sort presumably when he was a kid, in that chapter cover, so it’s not like there’s no warmth or sense of family at all, but then like… What went wrong? If as I theorize that girl with short black hair in that panel is his future wife, since she’s his childhood friend and all, what if his family/home life was always kind of cold and distant, even when gathered and cheery or despite those occasions? So then it’s like, at the family gatherings, she’s the most important person there to him, the one he actually connects to the most, the warmest presence he has…….. Someone he jokes around with that feels on the same speed as him, that doesn’t have the same connotations as everyone else present, a bit of a haven, someone different, a breath of fresh hair and a regained sense of childhood… Spitballing of course of course

I feel like they had a pretty big family and they were poor and such so there were always chores to be done etc, so their household might have operated like a mini busiess of sorts where everyone’s too busy, always has this and that to do and the mother asks them to go do tasks. I used to think it might be more of a neglect situation, where the kids are expected to provide for themselves and so cook their own meals and whatnot, both parents distant, but I don’t think so with the feast illustration. Chil at the beginning of canon used to see eating as a practical thing more than anything, you have to eat to live but don’t eat much or your weight will make your job more dangerous, might as well skip meals and have beer instead, etc etc. So the thought that he doesn’t know how to cook all that well despite this speculated background where he cooked for himself and keeps cooking minimalistic, since he does tell Senshi he taught him about cooking, is fair, but still… There could definitely be a situation where his older siblings were pushed into a parental role too, where they helped with the food and raising the younger siblings etc etc. As mentioned, the age gap between siblings may play into the dynamic as well. But on this front I have less ideas…

So yes my general take on Chil’s family is that everyone was too busy to emotionally connect as much as is normal, the parenting leaving things to be desired with alcoholism and emotional neglect.

Fathering

And I think that’s especially interesting considering he hasn’t been keeping in touch with his daughters either. It’s "they’re independent now" and that’s kinda it. His daughters haven’t sent him letters or visited him or tried to make him talk to their mom again. It does feel like with his own parents and siblings to me, where people are almost strangers, where relationships grow apart and everyone shrugs and goes ‘that’s how things are’. Is it that everyone including all his daughters gave up on trying to keep in touch, or is it that they all went "well divorced or not he’s absent, this is our normal tbh", and which is worse?

So yes, I think his relationship with his daughters is probably similar to his relationship with his parents, sort of hands off. Chil's dad was probably not a good dad but probably not quite a bad dad. A definitive He Was There, to quote another friend heh

Imo the thing with Chil is that he was pretty absent bc of work travels to dungeon dive, right. He’s working hard to provide for his family but in the process he’s not spending much time with them, slowly making a gap grow between him and them as they drift apart and change as people. He’s a career dad who never realized spending time with his family was more important and threw his pager into the ocean— But also here’s the thing!! You want to say being his family is more important, but money is arguably more important! They’re poor, they don’t have the privilege of free time as much. Sure he’s not there, but he is providing for them what they need to keep living and growing healthily. Similarly, you want to say Chil should stop doing harsh dieting for weight management, but, he has a point, maybe starving is still preferable than dying in traps. Of course the ideal would be to change jobs, but again, life is a struggle and that’s not always an option.

^ Truly the classic "if you don’t listen to me, your parent, a cryptid is gonna kidnap you!" international experience………

He is so so so the "What? My way of parenting is kinda bad? But my father raised me like that, and look how great I turned out!" <- emotionally dysfunctional…….. "Pshhh what do you mean having an alcoholic parent negatively affects you? My father was an alcoholic too and look at me"  🤡

All of it was behavior normalized to him. And listen, I’m saying this but not as like, shirking of his part in it. This isn’t a teen or young adult, he’s middle aged, he’s become the one giving and not receiving the generational trauma. He’s chosen to never think deeper on the topic.

And like, he himself is so indifferent to his father and what their relationship was like, of course he wouldn’t notice if a parenting choice wasn’t great for his daughters. He doesn’t have a relationship with his dad, he’s not (at least not consciously) traumatized by him, so from his perspective it’s mission success! He got raised decent enough 👍⭐️ Except he doesn’t realize that like, not particularly caring if he died is sign of a problem between them in itself… And this even as he remains somewhat of an important figure in his life, especially since that’s who he sees on the other side of the life river in the ghost chapter. It’s implicitly the biggest instance of loss through death Chilchuck has in his life I think.

But despite it all he obviously does love his family a lot, right. So I do believe that like, while he has imperfect standards when it comes to parenting he still tries to be better than his dad was, that even if it’s necessary that he has a lot of long work travels, he spends time with them. And there’s sort of this dissonance that he’s both "it doesn’t matter wether i’m here or not, they’ll live, they’re tough girls. Oh they didn’t like my scolding earlier? It’s just how kids are" dismissive and "I love them so much and I want them to have a good life. I want to do my best by them" devoted and so so caring. And like that’s why he works so damn hard, he does it for them, but also that’s why the girls grew up with an absentee father and aughhhh AUGHHHH the unsolvable dilemma of it all Chilchuck in Dunmeshi truly represents like, the harshness of reality & the world and how sometimes things will just suck no matter what, and then of course balancing that with Marcille in their shared arc where she tacks on "And despite that there is beauty everywhere even in the small and menial things, despite that your flawed relationships and dreams are still worth fighting for" ie giving reconciling with his wife a shot, etc.

All that said I think the very strict "you’re gonna grow up to have a stable job by god, young miss" attitude, those strong work ethics he highly values and focuses on and no doubt tried to instill in is own kids, is something he somewhat inherited from his own upbringing and parents.

In my masterpost bit on his parenting, I said I don’t think he’d do any kind of corporeal punishment, but. I do wonder about spanking aftee all. It can be so so easy to rationalize it… Sigh

Daughter pov

Again, my general interpretations for the daughters are written in my masterpost. I think Patti knows her father the least and is the one least worried about jobs and stability and least settled down as a result. Flertom is the more social one who I imagine tended to be the one worried about her parents’ couple and their emotions the most. And Meijack… Ohh Meijack.

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it and still you stand next to your mother just as quiet and just as stoic during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight out of mind

Thinking of those posts about how kids never forget and during the "draw your family!" things at school, some of the kids draw their working parents seperate from the rest of them...

Absent father and when he’s at home you get the crumbs of him that you get and you’re grateful for it and that’s that <333

She doesn’t know how much he loves them bc he hasn’t showed them in a long time </3

The horror of drunk Chil in my fics is often about what in this state he can’t do rather than what he could do, how someone who’s as proud of his skills and work ethics as he is has truly changed, not comprehending how he could become so sloppy or how he could allow himself to get like this, marred the values he preaches above all else. It’s in the way that he fumbles with doorknobs, that he could never lockpick a door if you were to lock it, and it both being your salvation and bringing you extreme distress at the thought of it all. His footsteps usually featherlight now sound heavy as stone, like a troll’s.

You know the thing that gets me so bad with alcoholism angst is when people describe the drunk person as a stranger. Often making a metaphor that they’re monsters, have some monster they shapeshift into uncontrollably once in a while, as a way to split the unreconciliable halves of the person sober and drunk in your vision of them……. It gets me soooo bad Little Puckpatti growing up on tales of trolls kidnapping disobedient kids and replacing them with doubles so no one even knows they’re gone… Coming face to face with a drunk Chilchuck that roams the halls of the house with heavy steps in the night, because she wanted to go drink a glass of water, too thirsty to sleep………..

And this is where I reveal that I wrote a fic about just that!! Trolls that thump and tiptoe through the night Mei @ Chil, You made me of stone and still every day you wear me down and chip away at me bit by bit

In the end notes I describe my takes and interpretations: With Mei I tried to give the sense of a kid who sacrifices some parts of childhood to feel closer to her parent, like not playing games to spend more time with him no matter how empty, or wanting to be worthy in his eyes. With Fler, since she was the one in canon to take in their mother and write Chil a letter explaining the situation, I feel like she’s always been the one most involved and aware of the problems in their family. The one most there to emotionally support or to understand what the vibes in a room meant. Puckpatti I think knows her father the least, since with time I think Chilchuck was more and more away from work and more and more cynical like the flashbacks of younger him dungeon diving. I think because of her not minding unstable odd jobs that she’s the most passive, that she’s the most go with the flow. I do also love when Mei is the one most aware of her parents’ flaws and most critical as the eldest, but not in this fic. Meijack grows up to never touch a drop of alcohol, what people joke is the one difference between her and her father. Flertom drinks, too much sometimes, but she considers drinking should be a social activity rather than a habit. Puckpatti only drinks on special occasions when she has the chance.

They already don’t have that much time together because of his work, I wonder how big of a percentage the amount of memories the daughters have of him are when he’s not himself truly… How they kinda reconcile it all. It’s their normal. 

And the thing that’s gutting too, is that Chil always looks so so much more open, relaxed, cheerful and happier when drunk than he usually is. He doesn't know how to get his defenses down without alcohol

"you're all that's good"

Because we do see how he truly used to not be so closed off and bitter. But distrust and fearing for betrayals from both coworkers and then his wife aka the person who’s supposed to be closest to him (he doesn’t even have close family besides his daughters. Does he even have close friends) turned him into what he is now. He was so cheerful!! Happy and trusting and optimistic.

He leaves and she left

God there’s the whole ‘wife leaving him’ trauma too is the thing… It had to have fucked him up so bad like no wonder he got paranoid and decided not to open up to ANYONE like. He never saw it coming is the scariest thing. He didn’t expect her to just up and leave. He didn’t see the warning signs. He won’t know if it’s coming this time either.

….. But then also, why he didn’t reach out to her (besides hurt) was because it was a petty silence treatment, like "oh she left without saying a word? Fine well I won’t reach out to her either" <- man who is so not fine and collected about it. It’s been FOUR YEARSSSSSSS I wonder if he always was like… "This week she’s gonna send a letter. … Ok fine, this month she’s gonna crack. … Within the year she’ll come crawling back." and it’s a bit why it was allowed to go on for this long unchecked like… Why he still considers her his wife even though functionally she’s more of an ex by that point after 4 years.

I can never stop thinking about him and his wife they’re fucking crazyyy. Him not reaching out to her started as a silent treatment from frustration. She never reached out to him either, she just up and left, didn’t even leave or send one last letter she’s just gone and has left this all behind, the house and everything in it. It’s been 4 years but he still considers her his wife and considers themselves only "estranged", "due to circumstances we haven’t seen each other in years". His face in the panel he said this is interesting too, trying to be casual but defensive and exasperated, already dreading the judgement and questions. He moved out of his house to rent a place in Kahka Brud instead. How much of him not reaching out was avoidance… Guilt, frustration, sadness, confusion, just procrastinating and dread and fear of a rejection more concrete, or something else… Maybe realizing he doesn’t miss her as much as he should, not enough to chase after her or try to get her back, just resigning himself to it… Is he a bad husband, is he a bad person? Should they reconcile?

Not seeing it coming… It’s half trust, that this person who’s so dear to you could never just up and leave and hurt you like that, half entitlement, thinking that she would never think of leaving, and third it’s blinding himself to the warning signs, not wanting to believe or acknowledge them. Because like, there WERE some, he said she "suddenly fell into a bad mood on the way back [from the outing]" and I don’t think he’s too dumb to be aware that something was off, he literally just dismissed it and then went surprised pikachu face when it turned out things were indeed off.

Part of it is definitely, how do you even react if your wife walks out on you without warning. If it happened to me I think that I wouldn’t reach out for a while either, wait for them to reach out to me first, give them space. As I put it in one of my marchil wips, "I respect your right to be rid of me too much to try and shackle you to me if you want to leave". Inaction is easier than admitting he’s scared to check and find out that the worst case scenario is true. It’s been years and he still hasn’t worked it out why she left. Do you think that’s on purpose. That he doesnt want to know for sure. It’s so so so scary to try and do anything about it

He said he didn’t reach out right away when she left because he was petty and wanted to give her the silence treatment back. Ok but is it that he blames her for their marriage falling apart or does he blame himself and he’s just misdirecting the conflicted feelings? Did he not reach out because a part of him was too scared to know why she left or if she would refuse to come back? Did he just think that she’d come back on her own, and things would get fixed while still staying unsaid and unconfronted like they always have, the first month, then the next and the next, until it was a year in and it sunk in that oh, maybe she wasn’t coming back?

He seems genuine here when he says that he was angry about it and gave her the silent treatment, but it is an habit of his to lie to make himself look worse instead of showing vulnerability, so who knows.

He is so so scared of being affected by relationships. Same thing with his compulsive habit to disguise his worry for anger. It’s why he doesn’t want people to have expectations of him, "I’m a coward I’m selfish", because then they can’t be disappointed, they can’t be surprised if he bites, they can’t leave when you lose what they’ve been staying for.

He has avoidant tendencies too. Every time there’s an interpersonal issue he just accepts it’s out of his control immediately. He’s passive when it comes to relationship problems, just like with coworkers, relationships are a ticking time bomb to him, and he just wants to be left out of it and come out unscathed. It comes back to his pessimism. He doesn’t think that like, things could be better. According to him life is tough and cruel, you accept your lot in life and make the best out of it and that’s it. If people are scummy you don’t whine about how unfair it is, you close yourself off and work to not be taken advantage of again and adapt. So then with his wife, when Marcille is like "Have you tried… Talking?" it’s such a crazy idea that it might work at all, that he could have the power to fix things… And that’s why it’s such a big deal when he goes "Alright I’ll try… I don’t know if it’ll go as well as in the stories, but I’ll try". That CRUMB of allowing himself to be hopeful is so huge

Honestly for the longest time I misread this bit, I thought she left in the night like how Marcille framed it, but no she left after he left for work. She left after he left again.

The way it’s told, it really sounds like Chilchuck just came home from work, stayed probably a couple of days in which they went to that outing together, then left for work again right away/soon after and it’s like. Was that outing the most special thing you guys did together. You came home from like a month of work, you had one outing where she ended up having a bad time, y’all didn’t talk about it further and then you left for another couple of weeks. Are you kidding me

Your married life is waiting for your husband to come home, spending mediocre time together, being shut down when you voice discontentment, and things being left unaddressed before he leaves again.

She left when he was gone for work, but did she leave the day of, or did she flip flop on it and took a while before working up the strength to leave? Was she waiting to see if he’d say anything before leaving and when he didn’t that was the last straw?

Chilchuck trying to prove a point that half-foots can make it out there, trying to rely more on himself because that’s the only person he can trust. His wife feeling like he's leaving her behind (because he does. over and over and over and over.) This guy just keeps throwing himself into work because he thinks it's what's best for everyone. Hey sir neglecting emotional needs can be kinda detrimental to everyone involved, I think you might wanna know that ^ quotes courtesy of @soappox

And to come back to alcoholism for a bit, alcoholism is alcoholism, and someone asked why I thought that a Chilchuck with depression would drink and cope through alcohol, since drinking seems to be something cheerful to him. It does puzzle me a bit but it’s worth going over, so… I don’t think him using drinking as a coping mechanism is far fetched at all. Cheerful drunks that are alcoholic still can absolutely use alcohol in ways like that. If something makes you happier, or even just more numb which translates to you feeling more free etc etc, then I definitely think it tracks that he’d keep drinking. Like personally I do think he’d drink a lot after his wife left him, and in rough patches like that. Depression -> not wanting to have to think, the days are blurring together and you either don’t want to be conscious or you want to feel something etc etc -> drinking for the alcohol. Alcoholics tend to be, well, dependent on alcohol. If something bad happens etc they’re usually more likely to go harder on it rather than stop. We can debate on when and why Chilchuck first started to drink but it’s straight up his favorite food now and it’s deeply ingrained in his life, in his favorite outings and activities and priorities and moods and meals. A CHEERFUL DRUNK IS STILL A DRUNK!!! They drink to get happy not drink because they are happy, though obviously the two can have overlap.

Chil represses sooo much. His solution to interpersonal conflict and feelings is just don’t think about it and dull your feelings & senses to everything ✨ I love him. I need to kill him with hammers Like the other day I was thinking about an AU where he might have ran away from his neglectful home or something, but then I remembered he deals with everything including his family by dulling his feelings and senses to things 🫠 He wouldn’t leave

I’d say he doesn’t look troubled by loss through death, moreso loss through mistakes. His nightmare is his daughters dying yes, but moreso them being killed, there’s an axe in the wall etc, it’s about having failed to protect them.

If he can’t fuck something up or if he’s already fucked it up there’s this pacifying sense that he can’t have the rug pulled from under him, because that’s what having connections is, having a wife isn’t an insurance it’s a rug waiting to be pulled. And his brand is sort of Flawed Mr Mistakes Man so he’s kinda been having to cope lol. I do think he throws himself into workaholism, because it’s sort of the only way to live he knows, making yourself capable and useful and spending his days working like that, less time to think, too tired to think. Senses dulled, senses that are usually too sharp, cutting with clarity that he prefers ignoring and avoiding. Work is something he doesn’t have to feel through, something that gives him pride and self-esteem, something through all the danger and life or death risk feels safer, emotionally. No one taught him how to deal with things another way, it’s always been suck it up and work.

Conclusion

Stop smoking we love you and we don’t want you to die

No drinking will not externalize your feelings no it won’t vent them out well please Chilchuck ple-ea-ease…….

</3 They should invent an alcoholism that doesn’t make you dysfunctional and hard to be around

^ Drunk, by The Living Tombstone

I’ve been thinking about enneagrams and Chil is 6w7 highkey. Becomes 3 when stressed, a little 8 but it’s more that he wants security so much that he becomes paranoid rather than having the core of an 8 y’know. I haven’t dug into it for quotes yet but this paper goes hard if you’re curious.

Dropping my relevant Spotify playlists here bc why not: Chilchuck & his wife, marchil angst

#I’m allergic to making short casual speculation posts apparently #Dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #chilchuck’s family #Chilchuck’s wife #theories #meta #analysis #It was mother’s day when I decided to gather my old discord message and work on posting this so. Not fixing that intro #I’m always too late </3 #Marcille singing A Girl Worth Fighting For @ Chilchuck #Spoilers #i lost half of this post TWICE. This is my Joker arc #Hopefully i can finish my web weaving about this today #Chilchuck is so cool I wish dads were real #Chilchuck “my family doesn’t need me” tims #This almost killed me it’s not even the topic it’s bc tumblr wanted me dead. This silly post. It was supposed to be CASUAL and SHORT #Analysis #i just ended up talking about chil a lot again. Give me excuses to talk about him more #Character analysis #meijack #Puckpatti #flertom #fanfic #Fumi rambles

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling out my long time best friend on her transphobic tiktok reposts?

💎, to find this when it gets posted

for context. i have this friend, whom i met when we were eleven but we got very close in high school. as we grew older, we started having very different perspectives, esp about politics - i am generally (still not using labels techincally, bc i don't think i am informed enough yet, but y'know. by extended lines.) an anarcho-communist, while she is more neoliberal leaning. still, we went through a lot together and were at each other's side when we both were at our very rock bottoms. and i mean that as in, for what regards me, she helped me through panic attacks and dissociative and psychotic episodes before i ever had even any medical (or adult, for that matter) support. it was horrible for me but it certainly has been tough on her as well, to handle my situation

now, we started going to uni in completely different cities, and of course we have sort of drifted apart, tho i still call her my best friend and i assume she does the same, since we never "officially" took distances (we haven't actually seen each other since, idk, last summer??). however, as i was lazily going through her reposts on tiktok, i found she reposted a heavily transphobic video; it was a trans woman talking about the good old "kids are too young to know they're trans and they should never be allowed to make a choice like that". y'know, that kind of rhetoric.

now, as i said before, we had been having different opinions on things for a long time, also things like marriage, assimilation vs liberation, but, due to our relationship, and also because i basically had no support system beside her + crazy emotional dependence and attachment, i always bit my tongue about it and let it go with the classic "we just have different opinions".

this time, though, esp given the context, it irks me a lot, and it very much makes me uncomfortable to keep sweeping this under the rug; also bc someone very close to me is a young trans person who has suffered his entire life due to the lack of access to self-determination in our social context and would've really been happier and healthier if he was given the chance to voice and receive support for his discomfort earlier.

however, bc of our history, i am also terrified that she will 1.think that i'm bringing this up specifically to start a fight 2.think of me as ungrateful (and it would also probably be?) after all the shit she took from me because of my horrible mental health.

#aita #am i the asshole

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-Ulous: Norm 2

For Norm, most of his time with Lila was spent studying up on the events of the past few years and the current state of Paris in order to get up to date. 

For Lila, most of her time with Norm was spent trying to find the perfect way to make her wishes so they wouldn’t keep backfiring.

Which was hilarious to Norm, since her attempts only made things worse.

“One of these wishes is bound to work!” Lila insisted, starting to look almost as haggard and unhinged as a certain crock-pot.

Norm rolled his eyes.

Geez, he was just kind of insulted by this point. One would think after the first two wishes going completely wrong that the wish-maker would put one and two together and give up by that third wish.

Here Lila Rossi was a good hundred or so wishes PAST that magic number and she was STILL insisting that Ladybug and Dupain-Cheng—who totally aren’t the same person wink wink—were responsible for turning her wishes against her. Somehow, for the girl who liked to think she was so ingenious, she hasn’t figured out that it was his own magic screwing with her.

Honestly, he was kind of insulted. It was like she didn’t even KNOW him!

…which she didn’t, now that he thought about it. He’d barely gotten out that he was a genie before she started on the wishing. 

Not like he was going to do anything to change that, though, but still! He felt kind of used. Maybe he should talk to her about it? She was still young—only a teenager and probably deserved a chance to learn and grow or something.

…nah.

“You’re doing great, kid.” He said blithely as he looked over a news article instead.

Apparently Dimmsdale had vanished from the face of the Earth as far as he could find, so either Turner had done something or he was in an entirely different dimension. Either way, twerp was gone and not his problem.

Thus, he instead used his time wisely—or at least more wisely than his new victim at any rate. As such, he decided to take the time to learn about how things worked before he tried to mess around too much. Particularly regarding these heroes and the whole “Hawk Moth” deal. Maybe he should have tried more to get in touch with that guy, but given some of those “akumas” he’d been making….yeah, no, Norm was better off staying out of that.

Though the Miraculous seemed familiar. He could swear he encountered them before. Hadn’t he known a guy? Cat guy? 

Eh, it was a while ago. Probably nothing.

He picked up the next random reading material in the pile and…ooh, a magazine. He ignored Lila muttering to herself while looking over the magazine and…wow, this blond kid really was everywhere, wasn’t he?

Creepy. Seriously, was he the only one kind of weirded out over the hyped up over focus on a 14 year old? 

No? Just him?

Lila glared at him. Part of her was tempted to try and demand answers, but that would be admitting there was some issue. And there was none!

She was fine! Perfect, in fact! Now she had her own genie and magic to influence the world with! The only problem was she couldn’t use it on Ladybug.

Clearly, this was Ladybug’s fault. She must be doing SOMETHING to interfere with her new magic!

Typical. She just couldn’t let Lila have anything good. Not Adrien. Not fame. Not even the crushing defeat of her enemies.

But Lila would prevail—oh yes! All she had to do was find the right wish to get everything she deserved!

"Soon." She muttered with a smirk. "Soon..."

____________________

I wish everyone, including Ladybug, believed I was her best friend!"

Three days later and nothing.

Ladybug didn't come to visit her. She didn't interact with her outside of battles. Or even IN battles except to tell her to stay out of the battles. And nobody new was cozying up to Lila in a way that would suggest they were under the effects of her wish.

"What gives?!" She demanded to Norm, finally having enough of waiting. Though to be fair, Lila had never been very patient. "Why isn't Ladybug being friendly with me?"

She glared at the picture of the superhero on her computer. No updates. No news. Nothing out of character. And no sign of even caring about Lila the way she should!

"If Ladybug thought I was her best friend, shouldn't she be friendly towards me? Hell, she should be spilling her identity to me by now!”

Norm, being rather bored by this point, shrugged. Truthfully, even he didn't know for sure why the superhero remained unchanged, but he had a few gueses.

"Well, your wish didn't take into account who Ladybug is."

"What is THAT supposed to mean?!" She demanded.

He sighed. "Kid, your wish made Ladybug think you were her best friend. The only reason she wouldn't tell you her identity would be because she wouldn't tell her own non-wish-influenced best friend her identity."

"Shouldn't she have trusted me with a Miraculous at least?" She questioned.

"Not if Ladybug was understandably ticked off that her "best friend" would claim a connection between them to the world for popularity and decide she's not trustworthy or a true friend." Norm replied. People don't always stay best friends, after all. And while the wish may have made Ladybug think Lila was her best friend in the moment, all the OTHER things Lila had done would likely sour that quickly.

So ultimately, a waste of a wish.

Then of course, came the other problem of that wish…

“Tell us who Ladybug is or else!” Demanded the scarred and nasty-looking man, knife in hand and pointed directly at Lila.

Lila, who had been kidnapped from school that afternoon by this thug and his followers, tied to a chair, and interrogated on the one thing she would already have told everyone had she known!

“I don’t know!” Lila insisted.

“Bullshit! You’re her best friend!”

“As Ladybug! She hasn’t told me her true identity!”

Another thug scoffed. “What kind of best friend are ya, then?”

She glared at him in outrage.

Fortunately for her, that moment was interrupted as an akuma chose that time to slam through a wall a la a certain American meme.

“Lila Rossi!”

The thugs screamed in fear and either scattered or were knocked over by the falling wall. The few who remained were quickly taken care of with a zap or three from the akuma’s wand.

Thank goodness!

“Finally! It’s about time—”

But the akuma gave her no further time to speak, instead pointing his wand at her and glaring ominously.

“Tell us who Ladybug is or else.”

Lila stared.

Was the akuma serious? Was Hawk Moth serious? They were allies! He should know she isn’t actually Ladybug’s friend or anything close to an ally, so why was he sending the akuma after her?

…oh.

Oh right. The wish she made was for “Everyone”. And that included Hawk Moth, too.

“NORM!”

____________________

“I wish Ladybug would be crushed by an akuma!”

One hour later... Lila watched, seething in rage through binoculars as the akuma "Lady-Fan”, Ladybug’s apparent “#1 Fan” was taking Ladybug on a rather lovely date to a high scale restaurant the likes of which Lila herself couldn't get into.

Even Hawk Moth appeared none-too-pleased given the illuminated mask around the akuma’s face—not that the akuma herself even noticed, only having eyes for Ladybug and not about to let anything stand between her and some one-on-one time with her favorite hero.

Which would be sweet…to anyone who wasn’t Lila.

“Norm, undo it!”

Norm looked up from a movie—the Ladybug movie of all things.

“You sure you wanna use a wish on this? It’s an akuma. It’ll just be resolved on its own.”

“UnDO it. NOW.”

He sighed and snapped his fingers.

With a poof, Ladybug was suddenly alone with a very much no-longer-akumatized fan…but still in the restaurant—and since no Lucky Charm had been used, the two apparently decided to continue with their “hangout”.

Lila glared.

“There. Happy?” Norm asked.

“No! Not until Ladybug is destroyed!” Lila shouted, seemingly uncaring to the potential of anyone nearby being able to hear her.

Norm rolls his eyes before turning back to his movie with a shake of his head and a mutter about a waste of a wish.

#ml fic #ml crack #ml crossover #fairly oddparents #norm the genie #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #lila sucks