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sytoran · 1 year

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𝐊𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌.

wanda maximoff's sons have soccer practice, while she spends some time with their young and ridiculously good-looking coach in the equipment closet.

──── 🍃 pairing. milf!wanda x buff!footballcoach!reader

──── 🍃 cont. smut (18+), sub!wanda, dom!reader, reader is gender-neutral but has a penis, shameless smut, blowjobs, thirsting, you are weak in the knees and the heart for milfy!wanda, possesiveness

──── 🍃 note. saw lizzie's oscar look and got this whole idea lmao. i am swimming in requests but here this is anyways. sue me lol.

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

every saturday, tommy and billy maximoff have football practice.

it may seem like a hassle to some parents, having to take the time out of their day to drive their kids to this place and that, but for this particular lesson, wanda doesn't mind.

the reasoning for her sweet relief doesn't lie entirely within helping her darling boys play their favourite sport, as strange as that sounds. truthfully, the answer would lean slightly more towards the person that coaches them in that sport.

but, who could blame wanda?

after all, her boys' football coach was just about the biggest heartthrob she'd ever seen.

bronzed skin kissed by the sun, expanding over broad shoulders and a sturdy figure. biceps and triceps so prominent it was nearly blinding, and forearms so structured it made architects weep. wanda felt as if you were a greek god come to life, with an unfairly charming smile and large, large hands.

wanda knew she wasn't the only one, after all, thirsting over the classic young, hot, athletic coach.

now, watching you be surrounded by the younger moms with their kids, hanging off your every word, wanda couldn’t help but feel a bubbling feeling of jealousy rise in her.

wanda maximoff had never been a pushover.

"okay, so when scoring a goal you’re going to find small windows or open spaces. don’t wait for the perfect opportunity, take every chance you get.” you explained to the group of kids grouped in front of you in the hot sun.

“there’s no windows in football!” tommy maximoff helpfully piped up. the lively seven-year-old student of yours was always full of energy, quite unlike his twin, billy, who was generally more reserved and quiet.

you cracked a laugh at his response, before feeling a pair of eyes on you from behind. sitting in the court side benches was mrs. maximoff, with her dazzling smile, looking directly in your line of vision.

you gulped. god, as much as you loved teaching her kids, she was something else entirely. the way her exposed thighs were shining in the hot sun made your throat run dry. when mrs. maximoff gave you a playful wink, you felt something throb in your pants.

i swear to god, y/n l/n, if you get a boner in front of these seven-year olds i’ll kill you.

gratifyingly, you managed to evade the embarrassing situation, instead letting them practice goals on their own for a while.

as all the little kids were running around in the hot sun, you retreated to a sheltered corner to grab a drink. wiping the sweat off your forehead, you nearly jumped a metre high into the air when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“didn’t mean to scare you, sorry darling.” mrs. maximoff said with a wry grin, sitting herself down next to you. you’re more than welcome to have her, noting the way her eyes raked over your taller, sweaty form. interesting.

“s’alright, mrs. maximoff. how’s your day been going?” you ask, attempting to strike up casual conversation. you ignore your heart beating faster in your chest.

wanda chuckles, leaning back with a sigh. “tiring, i suppose. extremely hot weather, though. summer is a blessing and a curse.” you’re about to agree with her wholeheartedly, before wanda’s casually unbuttoning her blouse. you choke on your words.

she’s absolutely mesmerizing. your eyes can’t seem to stray from her newly-exposed cleavage, accentuating her breasts and the pink bra that peeks through. it’s awful, you know, that your mind is running wild at the sight of the curve of her breast, but you can’t seem to help it.

the two of you spend some time, sitting on that bench, watching as the kids try and fail to kick the ball successfully within the goalposts. it’s almost therapeutic. until……

“look out!”

before you can react, the corner of your eye catches the sight of a stray ball.

it’s flying towards wanda and the drink in her hand, and by some miracle your goalkeeper senses are awakened seconds before it can touch her.

an arm flying out to stop the ball, you miraculously catch it with one hand at such a high pace. your hand flexes with the fierce catch, a well-muscled forearm now in wanda’s direct line of vision. time’s frozen for a second, as you watch wanda’s shocked face, almost blushing too. you’d never felt more cool.

but after your goalkeeper instincts kick in, your teacher instincts kick in, and you stand up to speak to the careless kid. before you can leave, wanda tugs on your arm. you spin around and you nearly faint.

unbeknownst to you, the drink in wanda’s hand had split with the impact of the ball, and it was all over her blouse now. to add insult to injury, it easily seeped through the thin material of the white blouse, basically making it transparent, baring to your eyes what was underneath.

the yells of the kids fade out as you stare at the wanda, shell-shocked. you can see…… everything.

despite wanda’s face of worry, you swear there’s a hint of deviousness in there, almost as if she planned to have her drink there. you shake your head. i’m goin’ mad in the sun, you think.

“i-uh, let’s get you some clean clothes, mrs. maximoff. sorry about the kids, i-”

“no worries," wanda answers promptly, holding on to your forearm. "don't want anyone else to see," she whispers, effectively hiding behind you as you lead her to the equipment closet.

the consequences of this, however, lie in the fact that you can feel wanda's nipples pressing into your back, small and hard and rubied. the searing heat in your pants is almost unbearable now.

calm down, it's not a big deal.

wanda's hand trails over the expanse of your back when the two of you reach the equipment closet, and you unintentionally shudder under her touch. you pretend you don’t notice the smirk on her face.

you shake your head vigorously, resisting the urge to slap your hands to your cheeks. she’s just my students’ mom, you think, swearing you don’t care about how close the two of you are.

when wanda’s ass brushes against your crotch. it takes every cell of your existence not to rip off your goddamn shorts and start fucking her against the wall. you’d never been so riled up.

“here’s some clean clothes. sorry about the size, though.” you mumble, averting your eyes when wanda tries to look at you. you shove the clothes into her hands, eyes fixated on a football on the shelf.

“help me with the button?” wanda asks, and you spin around, then you nearly choke. again.

she’s taken off her blouse, exposing her chest to your hungry eyes. the lacy pink bra is the object of your desires, distracting you in every sense imaginable. at this point, you couldn’t give a flying fuck about your boner. you know she’s as turned on as you.

"i get it, sweetheart, you're a young adult with needs, hm?" wanda asks in a sultry voice, walking up to you ever so slowly.

you swallow, not trusting yourself to speak. all you can do is stare at wanda with a haze in your eyes.

her hands reach the straining tent in your pants. it's erect, forming a bulge so huge wanda can barely cup all of it in her hands.

your breathing becomes ragged as wanda traces her fingertips along the bulge. you're looking down as she gets on her knees, eyelids fluttering.

she licks her lips.

"let me help you with that," wanda whispers, casting a look upwards. you bite back a low groan at her expression, so ready to pleasure you and take your length into her pliant mouth.

you raise an eyebrow in a challenge, staring down with dark eyes, and wanda is more than quick to rid of your shorts, admiring the sheer size of your fully-erect cock.

the tip is a cherry red, precum already leaking, and she eagerly laps up the remaining residue. you let out a moan, hands twisting into her scalp as you pull her mouth closer.

nothing could describe the euphoria you felt when wanda first wrapped her lips around your cock, clinging onto your tensed quadriceps to steady herself.

"shit," you groaned, throwing your head back, tugging onto wanda's locks of hair firmer. she let out a moan from the back of her throat, releasing your cock from her lips with a 'pop'.

moving on to languidly trail her tongue along your shaft, wanda showed off experienced skill in the way she maneuvered her way around your cock, teasing you up and down then licking at the slit.

fuck, you were close. really, really, close.

wanda was relentless in her ministrations, bringing you so close to the edge in such a short time. when she began deepthroating you, gagging prettily onto your cock, you’re sent tumbling over that edge with no safety net under.

“shit, mrs. maximoff,” you breathe, holding the sides of her flushed face, locking gazes with dilated pupils.

she gets up, slowly, brushing off her knees as if she hadn’t just brought you to a kaleidoscopic orgasm. “i’ll take my leave now, coach. the boys-”

you don’t grant her access to the exit, before you’re roughly pulling her back in for something more than just a blowjob.

after that racy encounter with wanda, the two of you seem to end up in the equipment closet a lot more. you’re making excuses, you know, pathetic, but you somehow manage to convince yourself you could ever have wanda maximoff.

you get to know her more, along the way, that her birthday is february 10, and her comfort food is parikash, and she’s sokovian, but her accent hardly ever makes its appearance anymore.

to you, wanda maximoff is more than a quick fuck, or a stress reliever. it’s stupid, you know, because she’s a divorced single mom with two kids and whole lot of responsibilities, and you’re nothing more than someone with too much love.

your role in her life is ambiguous to you. you sometimes wish you could dive into her brain to find out just what you are, but for now you have to be content with what you are.

the first time wanda brings you back home, you're more than eager to repay every favour she's given you.

she's hardly even unlocked the front door before you're lifting her up from the back of her thighs and up the stairs, making her so wet with that effortless, unyielding strength of yours.

it isn't long before you toss her onto the bed - the bed she used to sleep in with her ex-husband, the bed she spent hours masturbating on to the thought of you, the bed you were now devouring her on.

wanda doesn't know what she's done to deserve this, to deserve your deliciously thick cock ramming into her wet cunt, your hot mouth whispering affectionates into her ear, the silver chain on your neck dangling with each fiery thrust.

she's obsessed with the way your tattooed back muscles flex and move as you pound into her. she tries to forge it into her memory,

you're relentless, gripping her plush thighs and pressing her knees to her head. you know she takes yoga lessons and you haven't been more thankful for that flexibility.

wanda's spread entirely open for you, completely bare, all dripping and vulnerable, and you think you might just die.

that night, you make wanda see constellations she'd never witnessed, make her cum so hard wanda thought she might pass out, and simply take her.

that night was one that etched itself into both of your memories, of heat and fervour and lust and love.

love, those three words neither of you would dare to admit, of unsaid confessions and buried feelings.

when you lay beside a passed-out wanda, your own boundless stamina weary, you suppress the urge to stroke gently at her hair. it takes everything in you to not kiss her forehead and murmur things you'd always regret.

your heart was swelling, growing bigger each time you saw wanda maximoff, but she had little space in her life for you.

but for now, you wouldn’t care if it came back to hit you in the face.

for now, wanda maximoff would be everything to you, and maybe that would suffice.

recently watched ant man, and i swear there was something going on with jentorra and cassie... or maybe that's my syndrome of seeing every fictional woman as lesbian LMAO hope yall enjoyed this, the fic i'll be writing next is probably this :)

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mcumorningstar · 28 days

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A Rose By Any Other Name || Part Three

part one part two

series pairing: tommy shelby x reader, hints of john shelby x reader, hints of tommy x lizzie

warnings: 18+ minors dni, implied rape (the aftermath so no detail), mild violence, typical peaky blinders content

summary: After a change of plans, you find yourself wondering why Tommy invited you to the Epsom Derby at all.

author’s note: I wanted to include the Shelby’s gypsy roots (however brief) but I do apologise for any inaccuracies. I have started a taglist for this series so let me know if you want to be kept updated :)

Tommy banged on your door late on Friday. At first, you worried you slept in but it was still dark outside. Slightly drunk, he walked through the threshold without an invite and leaned against the wall in the kitchen.

“I’ve got business in London,” Tommy’s deep voice rumbled in the dark of your house, “You’re to get the train to Epsom with Polly tomorrow at 9.”

“Polly?!” Your eyes widened and Tommy whispered, “Easy, ey, she can smell fear.”

An amused scoff escaped your lips. Tommy Shelby just made a joke. The pleasant rumble of his laughter softened your nerves. Tommy may be the devil by reputation but the man stood in your kitchen was... different.

“What’s in London?” It was a risk to ask but he was in a mood you’ve never seen before. There was a playfulness to his usual self.

“Arthur. Arthur is in London. May I smoke?”

You nodded and he lit a cigarette. Eyes trained to his every move, he was a vision in your humble living space as smoke fell from his lips.

“I’ll come find you tomorrow,” He pointed at you with his cigarette between two fingers and licked his lips, “You owe me a drink, remember?”

Failing to conceal a smirk, you raised your eyebrows at him and he turned to go, the shadow of a smile on his lips. You haven’t even fucked him and you were starting to understand Lizzie’s infatuation with him. He was unlike any man you’ve ever met.

The Epsom Derby was a magnificent spectacle; people with more money than sense flocked in the masses to the grand occasion. Everyone was in the best clothes, ready to indulge in a long day of drinking, dancing and gambling.

Alongside you, Polly strutted around the place as if she was King George himself and you meekly followed, taking in the extravagant sites.

“Chin up,” Polly grinned around her cigarette as you walked through the Derby, “Don’t let these bastards think they’re better than you. You’re a Blinder today.”

Lost for words, you accepted that fate and wondered if Tommy told her why you were there. From her statement, he must need you for a business dealing but that still didn’t make sense.

Why would he require your amateur assistance on one of the most important days of his career?

Stopping by a white fence, Polly scoped the area. Racehorses were displayed on the other side of the fence, trotting by with their trainers holding the reins.

Among the crowd, you spotted Tommy as he rushed down a set of steps with a blond woman in white and pink. A risky colour to wear in a field. Was that May Carlton, the posh horse trainer Lizzie told you about?

“Are you going to lay a bet, y/n?” Polly asked cheerfully, although her eyes scanned the crowds in search of something, or someone.

“I’ve never gambled before,” You realised, making Polly laugh, “But why not start at the most prestigious gambling event in England?”

She smirked at that and looked over at you, “I see why he likes you.”

An inaudible sound fell from your mouth as you struggled with what to say. What did she mean by that?

“Oh there’s Lizzie and Jeremiah,” Polly pointed to the pair as they walked through the crowd.

Panic rose in your chest, pulling at your lungs until a sharp gasp fought the taut struggle for air. Polly turned to look at you, sizing you up.

“Lizzie doesn’t know I’m here.”

Polly rose her eyebrows at that, amused by how boringly ridiculous it was.

Sighing you looked over to Lizzie, “She can’t know Tommy invited me. I don’t why he did and I can’t have her thinking there’s something going on. And I could hardly say no to the devil himself.”

“I think this is the most women my nephew has ever juggled at once,” Polly sounded a little impressed, “He has his father’s devilment. Lizzie’s a fool if she hasn’t realised it yet.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and listened to her. Tommy looked around fruitlessly before heading up the stairs with Lizzie a few steps behind.

Jeremiah disappeared into the crowd again before Polly called his name. The man approached with a warm smile.

“Jeremiah, this is y/n. I’ve some business to attend to so would you be kind enough to accompany her? You can look away when she lays her bet,” Polly addressed him but kept a comforting hand against your shoulder.

“Right this way,” Jeremiah smiled, gesturing through the crowd. Polly squeezed your arm and disappeared in the opposite direction. Jeremiah was a preacher, a friendly one at that, and so your nerves were at ease as you walked to your seats.

The race started and finished before you saw anybody else. Police officers left their posts and swarmed like flies on shit.

Now things started to make sense. The Blinders were burning other bookies’ gambling licenses, eliminating the competition. More money and business for the Shelby’s.

Bypassing the hysteria of the police and the indifference of the toffs, you made your way to the bar.

The blonde woman in pink and white stood by the bar in a heated conversation with a woman in red. Are these the women Polly joked were being juggled?

Abort, abort!

As the bar was off-limits, you redirected yourself to find John or Arthur. Surely they’ll know where the man who invited you was.

Sitting at a rickety table was the two Shelby brothers and Lizzie. Her glassy eyes caught you before you saw her.

“Y/n?” Her voice was weak and her hair fell in front of her face. A cigarette hung from her fingers, hands shaking as she held it to her lips.

Arthur’s thunderous voice, fuelled by the cocaine he was lining up, overpowered Lizzie’s meekness.

“What you doing here?”

Fuck it. Lizzie’s seen you now.

“Ask your brother,” You took a seat, “Fuck knows why, haven’t seen him all day.”

Lizzie glanced across the table at you, her head hung low but her eyes now fixed on you. A croaky gasp caught in her throat and a wave of sobs spilled from her.

“Lizzie?” You dragged your chair beside her and rubbed her back, “Lizzie, what’s happened?”

Sitting closer, you could see a bruise was forming on her cheek and a bloody scrape stretched across her forehead.

John leaned over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest against your back, “She was working. Caught a nasty toff. We’ll get her home safe.”

His face was so close to yours as your head snapped towards him in shock. Genuine sympathy was in his eyes and a soft smile graced his lips.

“But-“ You began before Lizzie cut you off, her voice thick with tears, “It’s fine.”

Your brows pulled together as you watched her wipe her wet cheeks. Lizzie didn’t whore anymore. Her only exception was Tommy.

“Is he here?” You turned to John, who shrugged with a mouth full of whiskey. Sighing and silently seething, you helped Lizzie to her feet, “Let’s get you home.”

As if she was in a daze, she complied and she didn’t speak another word for the rest of the day.

Once John and Arthur dropped you off at home, Thelma helped you get Lizzie to bed. Her wide eyed stare bore into you, “What happened, y/n?”

But you didn’t have time to explain. Lizzie was in safe hands and you had a man to find. From the limited time you’ve known Thomas Shelby, he was entirely focused on business and, after an event like the Epsom Derby, you knew exactly where he’d be.

Dusk had long settled and the danger of Small Heath loomed over you but it wasn’t long before you stormed into Shelby Company Ltd.

The double doors to Tommy’s office were wide open, as he and Michael toasted a whiskey. In a fit of rage, you marched right towards him.

“Y/n?” Michael asked, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked between you and Tommy. Your eyes didn’t waver from Tommy, grabbing the lapels of his coat and shoving him against his desk. His glass tumbler fell from his hand and hit the wooden floor with a thud.

The open palm of your right hand met his cheek, clipping at his ear too. So swift and firm that his head shot to the side.

Shaking him, you demanded, “What did you do?! She can barely fucking speak!”

You slapped him again and shoved at his chest. It was nothing compared to his past pains, you knew that, but you didn’t care. Tommy grabbed your wrists and you were powerless to stop him. He simply held you there as you struggled in his grip.

Michael put his glass down and approached you with his hands in front of him, like he was trying to calm an angry bear.

“Y/n-“ Michael started but Tommy spoke, keeping his eyes on yours, “Leave us.”

Michael nodded and hesitantly left you alone. You stopped struggling, almost collapsing into Tommy’s chest at the exhaustion of the past few hours.

“Is that why you invited me?”

It was out there now. A question you didn’t know if you wanted to know the answer to.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” He screwed his eyes shut and met yours again, “The path was blocked off for the King. I got there as soon as I could.”

He was telling the truth. Genuine remorse.

“Is that why you invited me?” You repeated with a sign, resigned to your fate.

Tommy let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as his hands landed on your back, you shoved them off and stepped back.

“You,” You spluttered at his nerve, “You seriously think that’s appropriate for this conversation? I’m not going to be another woman on the roster.”

“Ey?”

“The woman in pink and white? Was that May or was that another woman at your beck and call? Lizzie’s on there too but rule me out,” The finality of your statement crumbled slightly as you caught his eyes.

Tommy cleared his throat and, when you crossed your arms over your chest, he sighed and said, “I dreamt of a deer, walking along Garrison Lane. The next night I met you.”

“I don’t..?”

“Polly says a deer in a dream is a good omen. That gentleness and innocence will cross your path.”

“Are you suggesting the deer meant me?” Your jaw was slack as you tried to grasp what he was saying. Tommy tilted his head to one side in a non-committal display of likelihood.

“But I’m a whore and I slammed a door in your face.”

“Polly is rarely wrong.”

Tommy reached for you and pulled you closer once again. You weren’t touching but you could feel the warmth emanating from him. Calloused hands cupped your face and blue eyes held you hostage in his gaze.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that and you were never going to be involved.”

Foolish as it may be, you believed him.

Dried blood spread across his temple caught your attention, “You’re bleeding Tommy.”

He brushed it off as your fingers delicately held his face to inspect the cut. It wasn’t deep but you kept your eyes trained to it as you spoke again.

“Why did you invite me?” Another bold question you were scared of knowing the answer to. A man like Tommy Shelby wasn’t accustomed to being questioned.

“You’re my good omen. We took Epsom,” A soft smile graced his lips, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone, making you meet his dizzying stare.

You were speechless. The Shelby’s are a gypsy family so his superstitions made sense, but is he sweet on you because of the dream or is this rooted entirely in his superstition?

Rendered a fool by his bright eyes and soft touch, you asked, “Who were the other women?”

Tommy pursed his lips, “Nobody worth your time.”

“If I’m gonna be your good omen, I need to know the truth,” You said softly, resting your hands on his stomach. Tommy fought a smile, wrapping his large hands around your biceps.

“May trains my horse. She deserves better than me,” Tommy’s voice rumbled lowly between you, “The woman in white and pink, is Grace. She’s married, sailing back to New York with her rich husband.”

There was resentment behind his words. Interesting that she returned to him now that he’s rich.

“She said she loves me, not him.”

Standing there in his office, between his legs as he sits on the edge of his desk, you wondered how many others had been in this position. How many women were weak to Tommy Shelby?

“So why is she sailing away?” Your fingers idly fiddled with the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Because I told her to,” Tommy was no longer touching you, his hands busy lighting a cigarette.

“You don’t love her?”

Tommy gave a short laugh at that, “She’s of the past. I do not concern myself with matters of the past.”

“Maybe if she’d been in your dreams..” You teased, hoping his guard was lowered around you. Tommy laughed, his blue eyes glistening, and pulled you closer, “You may be my good omen but don’t push it.”

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, securing you in place. A tension lingered in the silence between you and Tommy’s gaze drifted to your lips.

You were here to punish him, to hurt him for hurting Lizzie. Poor Lizzie… and you were here, a devilish smile and a compliment away from letting Tommy Shelby kiss you. What were you thinking?

Breaking you out of your stupor, you blurted, “I should go.”

Like Icarus and the sun, your resolve began to melt away. Tommy rose to his feet, your bodies now pressed against each other.

“I’ll drive you,” Was all he said.

Taglist

@sherbitdibdab

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader smut #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader

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slashmagpie · 5 months

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“Pearl? Why are you in my house?”

Pearl blinks up at Bdubs from where she’s sandwiched between the wall and the waterstream, curled up on herself in the narrow space. “Somebody destroyed all the lights in my base and now it’s full of mobs,” she says bitterly.

“It wasn’t me!” Bdubs cries, raising his hands.

“Well, I didn’t think it was you, but the way you just said that’s making me think—”

“No! I’d never! I swear!”

“...I believe you,” she says after a moment, and Bdubs feels himself relax. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t really feel like…” She gestures in the direction of her house.

Bdubs nods. “Oh, sure, for sure,” he says. Then, “Should we invite Joel over? His house got blown up too.”

“Ah, yeah, probably. Good idea, Bdubs.” She fumbles in her pocket for her communicator, eventually fishing it out. The screen is cracked. Her fingers shake as they tap against the glass.

“Are you okay there, Pearl? You look a little…” Bdubs forces his hands to tremble.

She glances up at him, face scrunching in confusion, before she lets out a small laugh. “Just the adrenaline, y’know.” She grins. “I’m red. It’s great.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d think they were being sarcastic. But with you! With you, I’m pretty sure you’re being serious!”

She giggles, hitting send on the message and shoving her communicator away. Bdubs doesn’t feel his own buzz; it must have been a whisper. “You know,” she says after a moment, “I’m a little surprised.”

Bdubs blinks. “Surprised about what?”

“That there’s still three of us.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I’m a little surprised, too! I thought for sure Joel would die today. For sure.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Oh, no, never. But between you and me… that guy’s kind of a loose canon!”

She snorts. “Throwing stones from glass houses, there, Bdubs?”

“Surely I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.” She pauses, eyes glancing down to where her fingers pick at a stray thread on her hoodie sleeve. “That’s kinda what I mean, though. Joel doesn’t live here, and you’re making friends with half the server, I’m surprised I’m not spending tonight alone.”

“Pearl…”

“What?” She snorts. “I know how these games go, Bdubs. People don’t stay loyal. Not for long, anyway.” She glances up at him, eyes half obscured by her hair. “People like Joel, people like you? I know how this ends.”

And Bdubs—

Well, he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what she means. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Impulse yelling as Bdubs’ arrow had found home in his throat. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Etho backing away when Bdubs had tried to get just a little too close. Can’t pretend he didn’t fight when he promised he’d run. Can’t pretend he hadn’t taken advantage of his broken home.

…He can’t pretend he doesn’t remember telling Martyn about their plans, or planning to do harm to Etho. Can’t pretend he doesn’t cross his fingers behind his back every time he makes a promise, just in case.

But at the same time, he remembers—searching for Cleo in a castle she’d been too dead to return to, pushing Lizzie to her death for a life he’d never received, taking two hands in his own and vowing to face the end as four instead of two, for once, for once in his life, choosing three and being pulled apart because of it—

Bdubs lets out a breath. “Pearl, hey, no,” he says. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m your weapon.” He gets down to his knees, lowers his head before her, feels her gaze burn into the top of his head.

“Bit late for that,” she says. “I’m my own weapon now, mate. Don’t need you to attack for me anymore.”

“Well, no—but—” He looks up at her. “Pearl. I’m yours. I promise.”

“Right. And you’re Martyn and Etho’s too, huh? We can share.”

“I’m using Martyn!” he protests. “That’s—that’s all it is—I’m usin’ him because he’s the first red and he knows his stuff! And Etho—”

“I don’t mind about Etho,” Pearl interrupts. “Like I said, I know you guys have your little thing going on. I don’t care about that.”

“I set a trap in his base,” Bdubs blurts.

Pearl blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“I set a trap in his base. Tripwire hook.” He grins. “Right outside the bedroom. I—I think I got Grian, in the end? But—could have been Etho. I coulda—could’ve been Etho.” He swallows.

“And you’d have been okay with that?” Pearl asks, smile gone from her face, expression suddenly very serious.

“I—after I set it, I went up to them. Had a chat. Lied the whole time. I coulda—coulda told him. I didn’t.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she stresses.

She sounds dubious. Bdubs can’t blame her. He feels sick, swallowing back the bile that’s building in his throat.

“I—Pearl.”

“Bdubs?”

“I learned my lesson, Pearl. I learned—don’t put all your eggs in one basket! Because—because either they die, and then you get left alone, or—or it gets you killed, and you die. You gotta—I have two hands. I can be loyal to multiple people. But then I learned—when you do that? People aren’t loyal back. They don’t trust you anymore. Nobody else…” He laughs. “I feel like I’m the only one who can trust people like that anymore!”

“So…” She frowns. “So you’re making friends with everyone so you don’t get betrayed or left alone?”

“Exactly.”

“And you know none of us are gonna trust you for doing that.”

He swallows again. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re doing it anyway?”

“Well, what else—what else am I supposed to do? I can’t… I can’t go back, Pearl. That’s… I can’t go back. You know how it is.”

“…Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m—I want you to win, Bdubs,” she says. “Out of everyone—I want it to be you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So… You better not make me regret this.”

He blinks at her. “Regret what?”

She bows her head to him. “I’m your weapon,” she says, an echo of his earlier words. “And a bit more of a dangerous one at that.” Her smirk leaks back into her words as she glances up and winks at him. “So use me well, alright, Bdubs? I want you to win this.”

Bdubs’ heart is in his throat. He swallows it back down. It burns.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises.

The door slams open, startling them both out of their skin.

“Hey guys—uh. What are you doing?”

“Oh, for—Judas Priest, Joel, learn to knock!”

“You invited me over! Or, Pearl did—hey Pearl.”

“Hey,” Pearl says. “Come on in! Sleepover at Bdubs’ time.”

“I can’t believe this is the last of our bases left standing. It’s, like, the worst one.”

“Hey!”

“There’s no space in here!” To punctuate his statement, Joel slumps down against one wall, kicking Bdubs in the ribs as he does so. Bdubs grunts. “See?”

“It’s definitely not the most spacious…” Pearl acquiesces.

“Anyway. What were you guys doing before I came in?”

“Swearing loyalty,” Bdubs says.

“Oh.” Joel blinks. “Do you need me to do that? Because I’m a Mounder for life. Loyal to the end.”

Bdubs and Pearl glance at each other.

“Somehow I actually believe him,” Bdubs stage-whispers, and Joel squawks in offence as Pearl barks out a laugh.

“No, I think you’re good,” she says. Leaning her head back against the wall, she says, “This is probably our final night.”

The three of them are quiet for a moment.

“Well,” says Joel. “We gotta make it to the end then, don’t we?”

He’s looking at Bdubs. They’re both looking at Bdubs.

Bdubs nods.

“May the best Mounder win,” he says solemnly.

Joel grins.

#secret life #spoilers #fanfiction #i am late on the post-session ficlet this week since i wasn't able to watch until today but here it is!#this isn't quite what i wanted it to be i was struggling a Lot with this one #idk. i really liked pearl and bdubs' little arc this session.#and there's definitely like 5 other angles i could have come at this from but this is the one that ended up on the page and i'm too #brainfogged to figure out anything else so here #anyway. do you guys ever think about how dog-coded the mounders are.#two feral former lone wolves and a sad-eyed shelter dog. or something.#magpie feather quill

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lizzy-bonnet · 11 months

Text

I love Jane Austen's work and I love podcasts, so naturally I follow several JA podcasts (please drop recs in the tags). I'm enjoying Live from Pemberley from Hot and Bothered, but a comment from literally the first episode of the series has been circulating in my brain since I listened to it several months ago: one of the hosts expressed surprise (and disappointment?) in the fact that when we first meet Lizzy, she is "employed in trimming a hat". This comment literally comes right after a conversation about how Austen tells us so much in the very short space of Chapter 1; without wasting any words, we know exactly who Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are (lightly toxic relationship), understand their family situation (need to marry well), meet the main driver of the first act (rich man in the neighbourhood), and understand a social dilemma (girls can't meet him if Mr. Bennet does not make the first overture). So what is Austen telling us when we meet Lizzy in the employment of trimming a hat?

We so often read a sort of modern girlboss feminism into Lizzy because she is smart and stands up for herself, but I think that's something that really gets embroidered on to the text. Lizzy trimming a bonnet is telling us several things about her:

She is frugal - new hats and bonnets are really expensive (my casual hobby is shopping for reproduction bonnets and this remains true), because the straw is braided by hand, the bonnet shape is assembled and blocked by hand, feathers have to be gathered from real (living or dead) birds, ribbons and flowers are hand-finished, the whole situation is fuck expensive. Lizzy is most likely putting new trim on a straw or wool bonnet she already owns to make it work better for this season's fashions, or a new dress, and possibly recycling trimmings from other hats. Contrast this with Lydia's spending all her pocket money on an ugly hat in Chapter 39, just so she can reduce it to parts, even though she acknowledges she'll also have to buy some extra satin too, to finish the project.

She cares about fashion - we don't get a lot of information on sartorial choices in Austen's work, and when characters are discussing fashion, it tends to be a framework for explaining something about their characters; Miss Steele's need to know how much Marianne's dresses cost (rude, crass); Mrs. Bennet's loving description of the lace on Mrs. Hurst's gown (shallow); Catherine Moreland's agonizing over what to wear to the Assembly (young, a bit flighty); Bingley wears a blue coat (has probably read The Sorrows of Young Werther, is fashionable). The fact that Lizzy is trimming a hat tells us she is fashionable, but paired with the fact that she will get a petticoat muddy in order to see her sister, and does not spend a lot of time worrying after fashion like Lydia tells us that she does not live and die on fashion.

She is creative - I've trimmed various hats and bonnets over my years of interest in historical fashion and honestly it's not easy. It's quite fiddly to get a nice ribbon edge, a ruched lining takes forever, and getting sprays of florals and feathers to be nicely shaped and all in a complementary palette is quite fussy. Getting a nice looking bonnet requires some thinking and planning. But it's also great fun! The Regency era is, in my opinion, a particularly good period for hats.

She is normal - I think Austen wants the reader to understand that Lizzy is a young woman with normal cares and concerns. She doesn't have cash for a new bonnet, she wants to look nice, she knows how to put an outfit together, she's not frivolous like her sisters, and she engages in the typical pursuits of someone who is not yet one and twenty who does not have a specific occupation.

A lot of modern readers are expecting Lizzy to be striding around the countryside unconcerned with "girly" things, or reading a clever book because we have come to think of her as proto-feminist in a way that suggests she might be a bra (corset) burner, but I think that comes from an outdated feminist lens that still wants to tell us that girly things are bad, or at least, a bit weak, and I don't see that in the text at all (I think some of this trickles over from the adaptations). Lizzy walks enthusiastically, she enjoys reading (but not to the exclusion of other employments), she dances very well and plays with mediocrity, she cares deeply about her friends and family, she has excellent manners, and dammit, she trims hats.

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #lizzy bennet #regency fashion #bonnets #characterization

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marykatewiles · 2 years

Text

Don’t Sleep on Headless

Hey everybody. Real talk time. If you want @shipwreckedcomedy to be able to keep making stuff, if you want to support female/POC indie creators, you need to watch Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story. We NEED you to watch and share it.

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Headless is it for us. We pulled out all the stops for this. This show cost us a quarter of a mil to make (thanks to you!). The four of us at Shipwrecked paid ourselves none of that. We’ve worked on this show for three years now. This is what we gambled on.

The response to the show thus far has been so positive, and we’re so happy! But even for the small channel that we are, and even with the INCREDIBLE cast who gave their time to be a part of this project, the views we’ve been getting on this show are fewer than we hoped.

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I remember a few weeks into The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Hank Green made a vlog talking about how the show wouldn’t be sustainable if it didn’t start getting more views. And it really helped! And that’s where we’re at. We can’t keep doing this if we don’t grow.

Don’t get me wrong, we are going to continue to put out Headless until Halloween and make it the absolute best show we can. But if we can’t grow as a company, we can’t keep making shows like this. It just isn’t sustainable for us.

youtube

We really thought this was gonna be the one to do it. We thought this was gonna be the thing to take us from small creators with less than 50K subscribers and a handful of views to a real, bona-fide channel with reach and influence that pulls the kind of viewership on our projects to match the amount of work we put into them. And I think it can be! It looks good enough to be on any streaming network. It makes me laugh every thirty seconds. But we are a small group and we NEED word of mouth for this show to succeed.

Shipwrecked is primarily female-run, making narrative content in a space where other (more successful) creators are predominantly male. I’m sorry to harp on this, but I can’t help but feel like we have to work so much harder to get the same amount (or a fraction) of attention.

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The episodes we have yet to come in this show are so wild, so wacky, so Intense, and so heartfelt. SO many people put their hearts and souls into this show. I believe it can catch fire and become one of the most successful digital series out there. But WE NEED YOU TO WATCH IT.

The story we have playing out over the next few weeks is Shipwrecked at its most Shipwrecked. We have some surprises and reveals up our sleeves that I think you are really going to love. More than anything, we love unfolding a big story over a period of time and bringing people along for the ride. I’m so excited for you all to see what we have in store, and I promise you are going to want to do what you can to experience it in real time.

youtube

It’s free. It’s fun. It’s spooky. It’s funny. If you want Shipwrecked to be able to continue to make shows like this - original content, inspired by literature, with a mysterious twist and fresh humor - help us make Headless a success. We need you to take us there - we can’t do it on our own. ♥️💀🎃

Subscribe to Shipwrecked Comedy - support female driven literary inspired cinematic narrative content!

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goldengleams · 6 months

Text

storm the field | mark estapa

In which storming the field isn’t so scary.

Inspired by last weekend when I rushed the field after my college’s football team won!! Hope you enjoy!

————————————————————————

Today was one of the most exciting days on the University of Michigan campus. Michigan was playing Ohio State in football at home. Both teams were undefeated, meaning one would get their first loss of the season at the conclusion of this game.

You had gone to the game with a large group of your friends, including some of the members of the Michigan hockey team. You and Mark had become close over the past few weeks and all of your friends could definitely tell that there were some feelings between the two of you. Luca, Mark, and Ethan had joined your friends to tailgate and you had all entered the game together.

“Okay, I see an empty row!” Your friend, Lizzie, shouted back towards you as you all climbed the steps in the stadium. Four of your girlfriends were in front of you and the boys were behind you, meaning you’d be standing right next to Mark.

Lizzie waited by the end of the row so she could stand next to Ethan because they were friends from home. She gave your arm a squeeze as you filed into the row. Lizzie had been egging you on to make a move on Mark, but you had been reluctant.

In your mind, if Mark knew you liked him and didn’t return the feelings, you would be crushed. You didn’t want to be heartbroken by someone you called a close friend.

“Hey,” you said nervously.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replied sweetly. Mark flashed a smile at you, adjusting the hat he wore. You prayed that he wouldn’t turn it backwards or you’d be swooning for him in front of all of your friends.

“Did you want to switch spots to be near any of the other girls?” You didn’t want to ask that question, but you figured you should ask before you got your hopes up.

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” he answered. His hand came up to the back of his neck and he looked around awkwardly. “Did you want to switch?”

Oh god, you internally groaned. “No, I’m also good,” you said quietly.

“I’m actually glad I get to stand next to you, Y/N. Lizzie told me you love football,” Mark said.

You nodded enthusiastically. You had loved Michigan football ever since you were little, so it was easy to jump into conversation with Mark. If any of your friends were worried about you before, they could finally breathe knowing you were being yourself.

The game started soon after, with Ohio State taking a swift lead. Michigan attempted to score on their second drive, but they fumbled the ball.

“Shit, that’s not good,” you mumbled.

“Tell me our next move, coach Y/N,” Mark joked, bumping into your shoulder. The two of you had talked about your favorite football teams during the first quarter, conversation flowing easily.

“Well, since the people want to know,” you giggled, telling him which position members of the defense should line up in. You both laughed along as the rest of the half went by. Michigan trailed starting the second half of the game, and the mood in the stands was tense.

“If we lose I’m never hearing the end of this from my family, Y/N,” Mark groaned. As more of his teammates came to stand in your row, Mark had moved closer to you. You were practically tucked under his arm due to the lack of space. “Yeah, me either,” you laughed back.

Somewhere between the third and fourth quarters, when the game was tied, some of Mark’s teammates had joined you in your row. With the extra people, you had to move closer to Mark. His arm had settled around your waist, which you hoped was a good thing, but your paranoia won out and had you thinking otherwise.

“Mark,” you called, practically having to shout due to the screams around you. “Mark!”

“What?”

He pulled his gaze away from the field to meet your wide eyes. “Your arm, Mark.”

“Oh, shit I’m sorry, do you want me to move it?”

You watched the confidence drain from his face and felt bad for asking. “No, leave it! Leave it, I just—”

“I didn’t do it by accident, Y/N,” he said, coming close to your ear so that only you heard it. Shivers went down your spine at his voice.

You nodded, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach and focus on the game. There wasn’t much time left, Michigan needing a field goal to win the game. The whole stadium waited with bated breath as the kicker got set.

“You rushing if we win, Estapa?” You heard Rutger call to Mark. Everyone in the stands around you was eager with anticipation and had started to shift towards the aisles to storm the field of the Wolverines won.

“Fuck yeah!” Mark shouted back. “You gonna run, Y/N?” Honestly, the idea of storming the field with thousands of other people scared you, but the glint in Mark’s eye had you agreeing immediately. You shifted your attention back to the field, Mark squeezing you closer.

Sure enough, the kick was good, with Michigan winning the football game and remaining undefeated. You and your friends started running down the bleachers with the rest of the student population to get to the field.

You pulled out your phone with your right hand and started to record as your feet hit the field. Within seconds, you were surrounded by tons of other people, most of them taller than you and all trying to get their phones up to get the best video possible.

When you turned around, you quickly realized that your friends weren’t around you. Obviously, you knew where the exits were to get off of the field but it would take a long time with a crowd this big. You put your phone down to take in the crowd and orient yourself when you felt a hand pull yours.

You tried to jerk your hand away until you heard your name being called by a familiar voice.

“Y/N, it’s me!” Mark called. He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You tried to ignore the backwards bar situated on his head, some of his blonde hair sticking out of the front haphazardly just so that you could exit the field before hearts appeared in your eyes. “We can head toward the exit, Ethan and Lizzie went that way.”

“Mark, you’re my savior,” you breathed. “It’s never a great day to be short, but today is an especially bad day.” Mark laughed. You agreed quickly to follow him and thanked him for finding you. You were both high on adrenaline, working your way through the crowd and cheering with everyone as loudly as could be.

“That was fucking insane,” you shouted. “Thank you for finding me!”

“Yo, Mark, over here!” You heard. Mark started moving you towards his teammates at the side of the exit. You made Mark stop before you left the crowd for a quick selfie together, both of you smiling wide for the camera.

“You two look like little otters!” Lizzie said. “Y’know, cause they hold hands all the time!”

You didn’t realize that you and Mark were still holding hands until she mentioned it, but Mark just squeezed your hand in response.

“We’ve lost another one, boys,” someone called and swiftly earned a slap upside the head.

“Hey, when you storm the field anything goes,” you laughed, trying to brush it off.

“Well, I’d hold hands with you any day, Y/N,” Mark said, getting your attention. “Thanks for storming the field with me.”

You felt your cheeks get hot. You looked down at yours and Mark’s shoes, trying not to get flustered in front of your friends.

“Maybe we could hold hands on a date? If you wanted to, of course,” he chuckled.

“I thought you’d never ask, Estapa,” you smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss, surrounded by cheers from your friends.

————————————————————————

ANOTHER FIC???? Me when I’m on a roll 🤩🤩 hope you liked this one, I’m a bit sports fan so I thought this was perfect!! Please show some love if you enjoyed it, love you guys!!

#mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa imagine #umich imagine #umich boys #umich hockey

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blues824 · 11 months

Note

Could I request octavinelle, Riddle, Kalim and Malleus x GN!Reader who's like Lizzie hearts

If you don't know how she is, she's a character from ever after high and she's the daughter of the queen of hearts

I used to be obsessed with Ever After High. Also, Lizzie is a hopeless romantic lol. It was written so that Reader is not Yuu, and is in Heartslabyul.

Riddle Rosehearts

He felt so honored to be in your presence, as you were the child of the Queen of Hearts herself. However, you were the exact opposite of what he expected. He expected you to be as strict as he was, and while you sort of were, you were a whole lot nicer and more lenient. You were actively trying to be kinder, and because of that the whole dorm loved you.

When you had asked if he would be your boyfriend, he was worried about what his mother would think. However, how could she say no when it was the child of the Queen of Hearts and also the heir who requested to court her son? Your relationship is actually super awkward in a very adorable way, if I’m being honest.

Riddle actually really loves your unique magic, where you can construct anything out of cards. And unlike a normal tower of cards, it’s structurally stable. You were able to help rebuild the dorm after your boyfriend’s overblot because of your power, and for free. Unfortunately, you had to regrow the roses manually. It was okay because when you got angry, Riddle explained that like your love, it takes a while for it to grow. That sentence alone made your heart flutter.

Azul Ashengrotto

Let’s be honest, everyone thinks it's an honor to be in your presence. But Azul tried to take advantage of you at first. You were smarter than that, since you were the heir and you needed to be aware of when someone was trying to manipulate you. The fact that you could cut something with your finger was definitely a factor in what got him to back off.

However, because of your desire to not rule like your mother did, you held out an olive branch and tried to get to know the person under the owner of a successful Lounge. Eventually, you both got romantically involved and into an official relationship. There were a few bumps, as the two of you were constantly kept busy, him with the Lounge and Octavinelle and you with preparing to inherit the Queendom. It felt as though you both were from and in different worlds, and you were.

Years later, Azul would say that your ability to build structures out of cards built a bridge between the two of you and you met in the middle. You both would call each other through FaceTime on your phones over breaks to really see each other, and over Spring Break in particular you had been excused by your mother to spend your time at NRC. So, you helped Azul at the Lounge so that you could see him a bit more.

Jade Leech

Even though you were a member of a royal family, he just loved to tease you so much. You should have expected this, to be honest. The way you mix up fabrics and such so that it matches the aesthetic of the Hearts family is something that he points out frequently. It goes against the norms he had gathered from other humans, but you fit right into the Heartslabyul dorm.

He offers a patience exercise, to say the least. As much as he loves teasing you, he knows when you have reached your boiling point. He also knew how hard you were working to prepare to inherit the Queendom of Roses, so he often helps you. You decided to get him back and say that he should start training as well to be King Consort, and this caused him to stop in his tracks and process what you just said.

Your unique magic is very fascinating to Jade, both in a personal and business perspective. You would be able to expand the Queendom on your own without help from the people, and your power could be used to expand the space of the Mostro Lounge for free. Of course, these are merely thoughts and he had no intention of acting upon them and trying to coerce you into a contract with Azul.

Floyd Leech

Riddle thanks you for becoming the tweel’s new obsession. He calls you ‘queenfish’, mainly because his nicknames are marine-life themed and you come from the royal family of the Queendom of Roses. Be prepared for a suffocating amount of affection because this man does not hold back.

If you thought Jade was a patience exercise, you have a whole other thing coming. This man knows what buttons to press, but not when to stop pressing them. Whenever you lose your temper, he smiles and thinks it’s all a joke until you use your unique magic to build a wall between the two of you for the entire day. Thus, he can’t see you, hold you, squeeze you, and this makes him irritable as well.

At the end of the day, he apologizes for annoying you and you, being the hopeless romantic that you are, caved in and let the cards fall away from the outside of Ramshackle. The first thing that the eel did was squeeze you and beg you to never do that again. After all, he can’t go 5 minutes without his beloved queenfish without making it someone else’s problem.

Kalim Al-Asim

He finds it super cool how you both had very similar upbringings. The two of you were destined to inherit something, him his father’s merchant company, you your mother’s queendom. But, only one of you was really concerned about it. The other was just trying to live life and have fun doing it. I will give you one chance to guess who is who in this situation.

When you voice your desire to try and be kinder, our lovely Kalim here takes it upon himself to teach you to be the kindest person you can be. Through the process, you both grew very close and even had your first kiss. Thus sealing your love for each other and putting you both in an official relationship.

Your unique magic really comes in handy when Scarabia needs to be reconstructed after Jamil’s overblot, and this kind of creates a treaty between both Heartslabyul and Scarabia. An act of good will put you on the good side of students from both dorms, which really helped you accomplish your goal of becoming a more respected and less feared person.

Malleus Draconia

You both have probably met each other before NRC, as you were members of royal families from different kingdoms/queendoms. There was an ongoing peace treaty between the Queendom of Roses and the Kingdom of Briar Valley. What struck him when you met for the first time was how you were not afraid of him. No, your brash attitude did not discriminate, and the memory of you demanding to know who he was and how your expression did not change after informing you of his identity made him laugh.

Then, you both were enrolled into NRC. You were sorted into Heartslabyul, and he into Diasomnia. Your friendship did not change, and when Yuu came around the three of you were great friends. It was during the same year where he invited you to go gargoyle watching but it was a huge plot to actually confess his love to you. He held out a blood-red rose to you, and you accepted it as you placed a kiss upon his cheek in return.

The only time he had seen your unique magic was when you were helping out Yuu by making Ramshackle a bit more structurally sound with your cards. He was there to also help, and Yuu and Grim got to experience the combined power of two heirs working together. This had Malleus thinking about how if the two of you got married, it could possibly solve the issue between faes and humans, as it would unite the Queendom of Roses and the Kingdom of Briar Valley.

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apollos-boyfriend · 11 months

Text

i haven’t seen anyone compile these yet so here’s all the first origins for new life smp!

scott: transporter

fwhip: road runner

gem: swarm (bee)

joey: dark fairy

katherine: human

lizzie: TBA

sausage: ghast

seapeekay: human

shubble: shunshine girl

joel: hippo(griff)

jimmy: bad guy

stacy: strider

strawburry: TBA

oli: TBA (possibly mimic?)

owen: human

scar: witch

pearl: copper golem

pix: archeologist

martyn: chillager

full origins descriptors under the cut!

scott: transporter [impact - •••]

a transporter is a sparse-atomed creature that is able to create rifts in space to relocate themselves and others.

wayfinder [+]

set waypoints that you can later teleport you and several others to.

hotswap [+]

you can mark someone you're looking at, and then swap places with them.

quickrift [+]

make a quick rift to teleport to a nearby location.

heavyload [-]

to be able to teleport, your particles must be in less density, therefore you can’t wear heavier armors.

atomic exhaustion [-]

using portals will exhaust you very quickly.

relocated confusion [-]

quickrift has a chance to apply nausea or slowness.

fwhip: road runner [impact - •••]

fastest origin out there. your heritage of road runners allow you to run reallly, really fast.

just faster [+]

you naturally sprint faster than other players.

gotta go fast [+]

hold your primary key to boost your speed and run really fast. as you hold your primary button your energy bar will slowly go down. you are also unable to jump while going.

still fast [+]

you are too fast to be slowed, soul sand doesn't slow you down, and the slowness effect doesn't work on you.

so tired . . . [-]

your constant running makes you exhaust more.

not made for that [-]

try to ignore water, you can't swim.

bad aim [-]

you can't use a bow or a crossbow.

gem: swarm [impact - •••]

these hive independent group of bees choose to stick together to overcome the obstacles of the outside world.

hover [+]

being made up of multiple bees, you are able to hover midair whenever you are falling.

smoke sensitivity [-]

your senses are lessened when near smoke.

pollination [+]

while you aren't sneaking, your bone meal is infused with pollen, allowing it to additionally affect the 4 adjacent blocks.

calming aura [+]

animals bred by you do not have to wait to be bred again.

expendable [-]

you have 3 less hearts of health than humans.

beekeeper [+]

taking honey and honeycomb from a hive does not anger bees.

joey: dark fairy [impact - •••]

a fairy that has turned to the dark side.

winged [+] *

you have elytra wings you can use to fly around with.

shadow embrace [+]

you can turn into an invisible entity that cannot interact with entities or blocks and cannot be interacted with.

pixie sized [+]

you are half a block tall.

moonlight [+]

you use moonlight to see at night better.

freezing point [-]

in biomes below 0.3 temperature, you have weakness and slowness.

heliophobia [-]

you hate the day, and this hatred causes you to take 15% more damage.

shadow bolt [+] **

a simple yet effective short distance beam that will hit anyone and take away 3 hearts of damage.

* bugged to only allow him to glide.

katherine: human [impact - •••]

a regular human. your ordinary minecraft experience awaits.

sausage: ghast [impact - •••]

you’re a flying denizen of the nether, capable of raining down hellfire.

pyroblast [+]

you can unleash terrifying fireballs.

spectral flight [+]

you are able to launch up into the air, and will slowly glide until you reach the ground.

fire immunity [+]

you are impervious to fire and lava.

hydrophobia [-]

you receive damage over time while in contact with water.

need for mobility [-]

you can not wear any heavy armor (armor with protection values higher than iron).

seapeekay: human [impact - •••]

a regular human. your ordinary minecraft experience awaits.

shubble has not shown her origin descriptor.

joel: hippogriff [impact - •••]

a noble creature, capable of taking to the skies.

winged [+]

you have elytra wings without needing to equip any.

gale wings [+]

you can propel yourself forwards a small amount.

rideable [+]

players can ride you by interacting with you.

claw grip [+]

you can pick up mobs.

fresh air [-]

you are enfeebled when not exposed to the sky.

embellished egotism [-]

you can only wear golden armor.

jimmy: bad guy [impact - •••]

you’re just generally a bad person, and your abilities reflect that.

bomb tosser [+]

throw a bomb into the air to quickly explode.

undying determination [+]

when your health is low, you can burst in a rage of fire, healing yourself whilst becoming stronger for a short time.

mischievous mist [+]

you can disappear in a mist for a short time.

fire immunity [+]

you are impervious to fire and lava.

carnivore [-]

your diet is restricted to meat, you can't eat vegetables.

stacy: strider [impact - •••]

travel the vast oceans of lava with the speed of a strider.

fire immunity [+]

you are immune to all tupes of fire damage.

nether inhabitant [-]

your natural spawn will be in the nether.

hydrophobia [-]

you receive damage over time while in contact with water.

lava walker [+][-]

you have the ability to walk on lava source blocks! you are also quicker while walking on lava, and slower on land.

rideable creature [+]

other players can ride you!

fungus hunger [+]

you can eat warped fungus to recover some hunger, along with a small speed boost.

owen: human [impact - •••]

a regular human. your ordinary minecraft experience awaits.

scar: witch [impact - •••]

cruel and cackling, witches are masters of brewing, and are great with magic.

better potions [+]

you consume potions better than most, potions will last longer when you drink them.

perfect potion [+]

get a random potion effect, based on the situation you are in.

pillager aligned [-]

villagers don't like you, and pillagers like you!

pearl: copper golem [impact - •••]

the copper golems are a curious automaton, designed to improve the lives of others. since they were initially prototyped, they have gained a greater knowledge of redstone components and ways to utilise them.

repairs available [-]

your body cannot be naturally or magically mended. you instead repair by consuming copper ingots.

oxidation [-]

your copper body makes you susceptible to the elements, oxidising you over time. oxidation can be removed with an axe.

galvanise [+]

honeycombs allow you to wax yourself, staving off the effects of oxidation for several minutes.

lightning rod [+]

while in thunderstorms, you're much more likely to get struck by lightning. you are immune to lighting, and de-oxidize when struck.

copper plating [+]

your chassis is made out of copper. as a result, you passively have resistance.

local area networking* [+]

you have modified an antenna to fit to your head permanently to recieve radio signals.

micro machine [-]

you are only one block tall, and your maximum health is reduced.

automaton [+][-]

your body doesn't experience hunger, and you don't benefit from natural regeneration.

button masher [+]

your programming gives you an overwhelming urge to press buttons. every time you press a button, redstone dust will drop.

tinkerer [+]

you can quickly convert a redstone component into its similar counterpart.

transmute [+]

you are able to transmute copper into other metals, allowing you to craft more metal items.

toolsmith [+]

you can also use this skill to create various metal tools.

circuit corrosion [-]

being submerged in water will damage your internal circuitry. your plating will protect you from rain, however.

heavy metal [+][-]

you don't need to breathe underwater, but your dense body holds you down.

* active ability. when standing within 5 blocks of unwaxed copper, emerald, or diamond ore and blocks, you will beep. you oxidise faster while this is active.

pix: archeologist [impact - •••]

you are obsessed with fossils and relics, artifacts and more. talents gathered among your years of practice will surely help you along your journey.

archeology [+]

from trash to treasure, you can find anything in the dust times of long past.

fortunate [+]

you naturally have two levels of fortune.

favorable fashion [+]

wearing a full set of leather armor results in a set bonus.

sacred respect [-]

you find yourself troubled by the idea of destroying structures of ancient times.

entomophobia [-]

days of looking underground is sure to put the fear of bugs in anyone.

martyn: chillager [impact - •••]

errrrr! you freeze yourself and your opponents alike, however being cold finds itself much more beneficial to you than your enemies.

cryofreeze [+]

you can temporarily freeze yourself, negating all damage and regenerating health for a short time.

frozen falling [+]

when hitting a target, they'll have trouble moving for a small moment.

frozen touch [+]

when hitting a target, they'll have trouble moving for a small moment.

fine motor skills [-]

being cold results in a loss of fine motor skills; good luck trying to attack a target in rapid succession.

#icarus speaks #nlsmp spoilers #i’ll be updating this as videos come out ^_^#nlsmp tracker

437 notes · View notes

lizzieraindrops · 1 year

Text

Destiny is a story about shapes and grief.

I think I may have figured out Destiny. I don't think the primary conflict between the Light and the Darkness is the philosophical issue we thought it was.

I got thinking about it after all this talking, with many others but especially @jazzhandsmcleg, about the way all of The Witch Queen DLC and its 4 seasons have had overarching narratives surrounding trauma and cycles of violence and grief, and the way the Darkness and the Light are characterized by their different approaches to it.

In TWQ, Savathûn is given a true second chance for her species in the Light. But as Ikora points out, she struggles to break free of the learned patterns of the Darkness, continuing the pattern of deception and violence.

Same with Season of the Risen - it’s the Warlords and Dark Ages all over again, but this time it’s the Hive. It forces once again to ask: what does it mean to be given a second chance if this is what you do with it? Temper this with Saladin’s story about the girl from the Dark Ages who he protected, but who became a cruel mortal Warlord in her own right. Crow objects to the mental torture of the Hive Lightbearers and he tries to break from the cycle of interspecies violence, but unintentionally ends up continuing it by killing the Psion and heightening tensions between humans and the Uluran.

Season of the Haunted!!! Literally, the entire thing is about confronting your traumas and greatest fears and the worst parts about yourself and beginning to heal them, making something better from them. Completely changing the game by turning Nightmares that torment into Memories that guide you. Crow with the memory of Uldren, Zavala with that of Safiyah, Caiatl that of Ghaul - and most importantly, resolution focuses on how they, specifically have been held back from healing by their self-incriminating Nightmares. It challenges the cycle of continuing violence on a very personal level. Eris even has patrol dialogue describing the a Nightmare as a thing of pain craving only more pain: "Such is the cycle."

Season of Plunder brings up the very same questions on a much higher organizational level. It gives us Eido and Eramis taking very different jaded vs. new-hope approaches to the legacy of the Whirlwind, asking: can we change? Are we defined by generational trauma forever? Can we continue to grow and change for the better even though it can never be undone? Though Eido is clearly young and naïve, we're clearly given the opportunity and narrative nudge to sympathize with her desire and hope for growth and redemption, both for the Eliksni overall, and for Eramis in particular.

And we're not even done with Season of the Seraph, but it already goes incredibly hard asking the same questions, again from a more personal angle. How far, and through how many generations is trauma transmitted? From the Bray family to Rasputin, to Felwinter to Osiris to Ikora – how do we fix this? How do we fix this? How do you defeat an enemy who IS war itself? What can you do to end an endless cosmic cycle of violence?

Go back and back and back in Destiny's lore even back to D1, and the majority of conflicts seem driven by this cycle of grief and revenge and violence. The entire line of humanity's war with the Hive goes back through Oryx's grief for Crota and the First Crota Fireteam and Eriana-3's grief for her wife Wei Ning. Even the Hive siblings' pact with the Worm Gods, though manipulated by Rhulk, was driven by the pain and grief they endured for themselves and their people, and wanting to escape that cruel pattern. The entire predicament of the Eliksni and their conflict with humans is driven by the trauma and grief and loss of the Whirlwind. Even Caiatl's empire, a conquering force that would be highly regarded by the sword logic, now must reckon with the same kind of loss in the Fall of Torobatl.

How do you escape this cycle and stay free of it?

I think, this year, we are finally seeing the beginnings of an answer.

I can't highly enough recommend the TWQ Collector's Edition lorebook (page scans & transcript) and The Hidden Dossier (page scans & transcript) that immediately follows it. What I've been calling Ikora's theory of "memory and grace" that she develops through the course of these two lore books is a balanced philosophy of memory/Darkness and grace/Light (which honestly deserves an entire post of its own). I think it clearly points toward the final resolution the story of the conflict between the Darkness and the Light.

In light of this, something in the Calus part of the new Lightfall CE lorebook (images, transcript) really jumped out at me.

“The doomed and the damned left the record of their downfall in the OXA. Your star got its name from the oldest myths in that archive. And when your mother told your father that story…the star became your name. A prayer that all will go as it must…and the way it must go is struggle.” “Aiat.” Not a word in Ulurant or any other Cabal tongue. “But Caiatl means something else..” “Yes. ‘It may not always go as it needs to go.’ A good name for a soldier." "A strange name for a daughter," I say. "Your father chose it for your mother's sake. Out of love."

And because the parallel is so overwhelmingly striking, I am once again going to reference philosophy/worldbuilding from the Young Wizards universe, which has great resonance with Destiny lore and which Bungie has been long aware of and has even been referenced in Forsaken-era canon lore.

“all the fair things skewed, all the beauty twisted by the dark Lone Power watching on his steed. If only there were some way he could be otherwise if he wanted to! For here was his name, a long splendid flow of syllables in the Speech, wild and courageous in its own way—and it said that he had not always been so hostile; that he got tired sometimes of being wicked, but his pride and his fear of being ridiculed would never let him stop. Never, forever, said the symbol at the very end of his name, the closed circle that binds spells into an unbreakable cycle and indicates lives bound the same way.” [...] “Nita bent quickly over the Book and, with the pen, in lines of light, drew from that final circle an arrow pointing upward, the way out, the symbol that said change could happen—if, only if—and together they finished the Starsnuffer’s name in the Speech, said the new last syllable, made it real.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “So You Want to Be a Wizard, New Millennium Edition.”

CAIATL’S NAME IS LITERALLY THE UP-AND-OUT SYMBOL.

I know I'm probably only talking to the handful of Destiny players from the (very small) Young Wizards fandom, but what you need to know is that this moment is pivotal and sets up the series-long theme of hope for an eventual exit from the cycle. It's the incredibly small, overwhelmingly improbable possibility of a second chance, a new start for the Lone Power, the source of all strife and suffering, who itself is driven by loss and pain. A concept of extended grace that is inherently tied to the philosophy of the Light.

“Billions of years, it took. All the redemptions there have ever been went toward this; from the greatest to the least. And finally in the fullness of time you came along, and took my role, of your own will, and woke up a race powerful enough to change the whole Universe, and gave them the fire.” She glanced up at the mobiles and smiled. “How could he resist such a bait? He took the gamble: he always does. And losing, he won.” [...] “The Defender reached down and put a hand into the shadow. “And we are going where such matters are transcended… where all his old pains will shift. Not forgotten, but transformed. Life in this universe will never have such a friend. And as for His inventions… look closely at Death, and see what it can become.” The long, prone darkness began to burn, from inside, the way a mountain seems to do with sunset. “Brother,” the Defender said. “Come on. They’re waiting.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “High Wizardry New Millennium Edition.”

This is the devil’s second chance, its homecoming. Grace among the memory. How do we heal this? By fixing it. By making and TAKING that opportunity of grace.

Likewise, Destiny is shaping up into its own universe’s story of this Reconfiguration, the remaking of everything that exists through the act of a second chance, both offered and taken, with full awareness of the irreversibility of harm already caused.

Destiny isn’t the story of the light and the darkness fighting each other. That happens, but that’s not what it’s ABOUT.

It’s “And I know exactly what we are. We’re best frenemies with a history of intense mutual hurt and messy reconciliation, leaving a deep tenderness as well as an almost impenetrable knot of scars. What could be simpler?” (Chalco)

It's “For so long, I believed peace was beyond my reach. No more. I have found it in guiding others down the same path that saved me. But… I might allow myself to want more than peace. What, I am not certain. Is joy the word? Might I find that again?” (Eris)

It's “Second chances… hm. Turns out I've been using mine wrong. I thought being a Guardian was my destiny. That wielding the Light for good was the most I had to offer. But it's clear now. This is what the Traveler chose me for. I was reforged in the Light for a purpose. To remake something dead and gone… into something beautiful. To learn how to forge something new from what we were. Everything Uldren did to the Reef, the Scorn… Fikrul. I have a responsibility — no — a calling to make them whole. And… I can't replace Cayde. But I can cover his old patrols — maybe organize the Hunters a bit, if they'll let me. Clean up some of my mess. I don't know if I can fix everything Uldren left broken… but I can try.” (Crow)

We aren’t defeating the Darkness. That’s never what it’s been about. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and grief with memory and grace. We're transcending the Final Shape, but we're not here to destroy it or become it. We’re harmonizing the Darkness and the Light into a sustainable balance to create something new from the wounded remains.

We're here to heal the broken relationship between the Winnower and the Gardener.

That's all that it is, in the end. They had a falling out, and now they hurt, and they hurt each other, and everything else, forever. Breaking free from that cycle begins and ends with them.

Is that fair? No, it's not.

But Destiny is – unhingedly, brilliantly, paradoxically – a FPS game about how to stop killing each other, growing ever more into a framework of restorative and reparative justice.

The story says, we are all culpable, we have all done awful shit and have endless potential to do more awful shit – AND, most critically, we all have the potential to do better (grace). AND, the act of making the conscious choice to do so and letting that happen is the only way for things to get better (memory).

The Collapse happened and it was horrible, the Red War happened and it was horrible, the Great Disaster happened and it was horrible, Twilight Gap happened and it was horrible...AND?? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO RESPOND? The Whirlwind happened and it was horrible! The Fall of Torobatl happened and it was horrible! Your species' Choice was stolen and you became the most prolifically violent killers in the universe and it was and is horrible! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Are you going to make it more horrible? Or are you going to make it BETTER????

Are you going to fight for the Final Shape, or for the gentle kingdom ringed in spears?

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oizysian · 1 year

Note

I'd like to request if you're still taking it

Top! dark! Lizzie x fem reader. Lizzie uses reader to take out her stress

Stressed Out | Elizabeth Olsen

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2900+ Genre: Smut Warnings: slight dubcon, slapping, name calling AN: it’s hard for me to imagine Lizzie as very dark so she’s not as dark as she could be, I’m sorry! Thank you for the request!

•

“Honey, I’ve had a really, really bad day.” Lizzie’s voice was soft and deep as she entered the room, exhaustion and frustration colored her features.

I looked from the television to her, watching as she began to strip out of her clothes, tossing the garments haphazardly around as she came closer to the bed, leaving herself in only her bra and panties.

“I need you to make it better.” She said as she leaned toward me, her hands pressing down into the bed on either side of me.

“How?” I responded quietly, looking from her deep, green eyes to her full breasts that peeked out from beneath her bra.

“Let me use you. Let me just … feel you.”

I blinked at her once, twice, before nodding; a simple motion that brought a smile to her face. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to my own, slipping her tongue into my mouth and claiming me as her own.

Breathlessly, I let her do as she pleased with me, knowing very well that anything she did would be pleasurable.

“Take off your clothes.” She breathed softly and I obeyed, stripping out of my shirt and bra, but struggled with my shorts and panties. “Lemme help.”

She impatiently tugged on my clothes, practically ripping the fabric from my body and throwing it somewhere behind her on the ground.

“Lizzie …” I whimpered softly, turned on and nervous by the way she was acting. I had never seen her act like this before.

“Shh,” she whispered, licking her lips as she stared down at my naked body. “You said I could have you tonight,” She bit her lip and smiled, bringing her head down to just barely brush her lips against mine. “And I’m going to have you.”

I moved to close the space between us but she pulled away, smiling mischievously as she climbed off the bed and headed to the dresser, digging around in the drawer we kept all of our toys.

“You’re gonna look so pretty.” She mused softly as she filled her arms with items.

When she turned back to the bed, my eyes grew wide at all the things she had retrieved. In her arms she had ropes, toys, lube, a gag, a blindfold, and who knows what else - all for me.

“My pretty girl.” Her dark eyes met mine and I shivered. “Lay down.”

I obeyed silently, laying my head down on the pillows and waiting for her next command. She dropped everything on the bed next to me and started sifting through the pile.

The first thing she grabbed was the ropes, wasting no time in tying my hands to the headboard tightly.

“Lizzie,” I whined, struggling against the binds. “They’re too tight.”

“I don’t want you moving.”

“I won’t.” I squirmed and she shook her head.

“You already are.” She slapped my right breast and I cried out, tugging on my restraints. “Look at you,” she propped herself up on her knees, staring down at me. “Already disobeying me.”

“I’m not.” I said defiantly and she raised her eyebrow at me.

“Oh, no? Say my name.”

“Lizzie.”

She slapped my left breast even harder than she slapped the right.

“Lizzie!” I cried, not understanding what I did wrong.

“What is my name?” She said as she slapped my right breast again, the stinging pain bringing tears to my eyes.

“Liz …” and then it came to me. “Mommy! Mommy!”

She hummed softly, rubbing and gently twisting my right nipple, bringing it to a hardened bud.

“That’s my good girl.”

She reached behind her and I could hear the soft clinking of metal, but couldn’t raise my head to see. She turned back towards me, nipple clamps in her hand.

“Because you decided to be good, I’ll reward you.”

She clipped them onto my abused nipples and I hissed, squirming as she pulled on the chain they were connected to.

“This isn’t a reward.” I moaned softly, biting back all the choice words I would rather say to her at the moment.

“Now you’re ungrateful?” She clicked her tongue, tugging the clamps more forcefully.

I tried to raise my body towards her, but I was held down by the ropes. Hot tears sprung to my eyes from arousal, embarrassment, frustration and pain, and I wasn’t sure which was the dominant feeling.

“I’m sorry.” I bit out through clenched teeth, trying not to focus too much on the pain.

“Say it like you mean it.”

She pulled hard and I cried, my body squirming in a feeble attempt to escape.

“I’m sorry, mommy!”

Satisfied with my response, she dropped the chain, the cool metal landing on my tummy with a soft clang and turned back towards the pile.

“I don’t like your mouth tonight.” She said as she sifted through all of the stuff she collected.

I breathed heavily, chest heaving as I tried to calm down. She had barely even touched me and I was panting, soaking wet, aroused beyond belief. Who knew Lizzie treating me like this would turn me on so much?

She brought herself back towards me, gag in hand.

“No, Lizzie, I’m sorry, please!”

“Lizzie?” She paused, giving me a chance to correct myself.

“Mommy! Please, I’ll be good!”

“I know you will, sweetheart.” She said as she put the gag in my mouth, securing it around my head.

I attempted to plead with her, tears falling from my eyes as she let my head fall back onto the pillows, the ball gag tight in my mouth.

“Let’s see …” she pretended to think for a minute before spreading my legs, peeking between them. “Soaked. You’re absolutely glistening, sweet thing.”

My cheeks reddened at her words, drool already slipping past the gag and falling down my chin. She smiled down at me, pleased with the state I was in. She was happy with what she was able to do to me.

I pressed my knees together and she gave me a glaring, warning look. I was embarrassed.

“Open those legs for me, pretty baby. Don’t make me ask you again.”

The seriousness of her voice made me relent, opening my legs for her to settle between them, her head going straight for my center. I let out a low moan as she licked up my slick. She was actively avoiding my clit, which drove me mad, my mind swimming with arousal and no end in sight.

“Stay still or you won’t cum tonight.” She said against my slit and I did my best to control my breathing so my legs would stop shaking.

She grabbed onto my thighs and hummed against my pussy, the vibrations going straight to my core, a new wave of my juices leaking out onto her waiting tongue.

Satisfied with herself and my reaction to her, she pulled away, making a show of licking her lips as she sat back up. A muffled plea of letting me cum tried to slip past the gag, but I wasn’t understood and she clearly wasn’t ready for me to come undone yet.

“You look so pretty.” She said as she admired the mess she had made of me.

I swallowed roughly, the urge to close my legs in bratty defiance strong, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to push her in the current mood she was in. She ran her fingers along my inner thigh, causing goosebumps to follow in their wake.

“I wanna suck on your nipples so badly,” she bit her lip, digging her nails slightly into my thigh. “But, you don’t deserve it.”

I let out a low groan and she smiled sweetly, her fingers making their way back up to my pussy and carefully dipping into my heat. I raised my hips towards her and she pulled out, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and sucking on them loudly.

“Not only are you pretty, but you taste good too.” She said as she finished cleaning her fingers.

I tugged on the ropes, my desire to touch her or touch myself becoming too much for me to handle. My nipples ached painfully and every time I moved it sent a jolt of arousal to my core.

“Give me one reason to not put this on you.” She held up the blindfold and I shook my head, my words coming out muffled. “Oh, that’s right.” She smiled. “You can’t.”

She leaned over me and covered my eyes with the blindfold. I struggled against her, trying to shake the blindfold off.

I heard the slap before I felt it, my body jerking upwards once I felt the stinging pain on my pussy. A muffled “oh fuck” spilled from my lips, but was ignored.

I could hear the pop of a pen cap and smelt the scent of a sharpie. I didn’t even bother hiding my confusion, my brows furrowing and my head tilting towards the sound of Lizzie moving around.

“Don’t move.” She warned me and I braced myself for whatever she had planned.

My stomach tensed as I felt something press against it, and then I realized she was drawing on me. My breathing quickened, but I tried my hardest to stay still.

“There. Mommy’s cum slut. That’s what you are.”

Lizzie had written on me. I let out a shaky breath as she continued to doodle on my body. I wanted so badly to see what she was doing, what she was writing, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. It was on me and it wouldn’t be coming off for a while.

“Do you deserve kisses?” Her voice was quiet and soft next to my ear.

I nodded and I felt her lips against my neck, kissing languidly, leaving wet trails as she made her way down my body. She stopped at my breast, sinking her teeth into the swell of it. I cursed at her, but thankfully she couldn’t understand me. She sucked on the hurt, no doubt leaving a giant hickey in her wake.

She released my abused skin and blew cold air onto my sensitive nipples, causing me to shiver and squirm under her. She giggled deviously, her tongue sneaking out to swirl around my areola, purposefully avoiding the clamps and my nipples.

“I’m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours.” She whispered against my skin and I let out a cry of relief and desperation. She was finally gonna fuck me.

I felt the bed shift as she got up and I could hear her moving around, but it drove me insane that all I could see was darkness. I had to rely on my hearing to tell me where she was and what she was doing.

It was a few moments of silence before I felt the bed dip as she got back on it, crawling up and positioning herself between my legs.

I felt her lifting my legs, pressing them to my chest, brushing against my hard and abused nipples. I let out a cry from behind the gag and she shushed me softly. I could feel her hardness between my legs and I thrust up against her slightly, trying to get the slightest bit of friction against my clit.

“Just wait, baby,” she cooed, rubbing herself against me. “I’ll take care of you.”

She slapped the dildo against my mound teasingly, knowing I would do just about anything at this moment to feel her inside me. At my pathetic moans, she inched her way inside me, pushing past any resistance she met as she bottomed out.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” I knew she was looking at my pussy as she fucked me, watching as her cock stretched me out.

I let out a whimper, trying desperately to beg her for release as she slowly slid in and out of me. I could hear myself telling her to go faster, to fuck me harder, but it came out as more moans, and she laughed at the noises I made.

“Take my cock, yeah, that’s right, sweetheart. Fucking take it.”

Drool cascaded down my chin as she began to pound into me, the chain on my chest clinking as my tits bounced from the force of her thrusts. I could feel myself getting closer, the coil in my belly tightening as she fucked the brattiness out of me.

She pressed herself against me, reaching underneath my head to undo the gag in my mouth.

“I want to hear you.”

I took a deep breath and let out a whimpering gasp.

“Mommy.” I panted softly.

“That’s right, mommy’s right here.”

She pressed her lips to mine and I moaned into her waiting mouth, happy to finally be able to taste her. I kissed her back desperately despite the aching in my jaw and the straining in my neck. I felt her hand snake up my body to rest at my throat, her fingers tightening, choking me.

“M-mommy.” I breathed, desperately wishing to see her. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Are you, baby? Are you close?” Her fingers tightened around my neck and I squeezed my eyes tight, the blindfold soaking up my tears.

“Yes!” I choked out, her roughness turning me on further. “Yes, mommy!”

My pussy throbbed and pulsated around her thick cock, so close to release, when she pulled out of me, but continued to kiss me.

“No, mommy, please!” I begged between kisses.

I could feel her smiling against my lips and it drove me insane, but I knew better than to speak against her. She kept kissing me, tiny, teasing kisses all along my lips and cheeks.

“Please,” I cried. “Mommy, please.”

Before I could register what she was doing, I could see her again. Her eyes were a deep green, dark with lust and desire. Her mouth was agape, her breaths coming out in small puffs.

“Keep begging.” She smiled down at me and bit her lip.

“Mommy, please fuck me.”

“Since you’ve been such a good girl …”

With a smirk, she was inside me again and I was seeing stars. It was so big, I couldn’t believe I was able to take her so easily. She was pounding into me hard, and it was almost beginning to hurt with how deep she was inside me.

“Mommy … it hurts.”

“You wanted this.” She said as she continued to fuck me. “You can take it.”

I moaned pathetically, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as she braced herself, her thrusts powerful and deep. As much as it hurt, it also felt fucking fantastic, and I was going to cum on her whether she wanted me to or not.

I raised my hips to meet her thrusts, the base of the dildo rubbing against my clit, giving me the extra friction I needed to cum.

“Oh, fuck yes, mommy!” I cried as I came against her, my pussy squeezing and milking the cock inside of me.

She rested her forehead against mine, panting, her hips moving ever so slightly against me.

“Did I say you could cum?” She whispered against my lips, her eyes looking into my own.

“No.” I whispered back, my eyes shifting from hers.

She pulled out of me and sighed, reaching up and untying me from the headboard. I grabbed at my wrists, rubbing them now that they were free. She got up from the bed and gestured for me to follow her, which I did without comment. She sat on the edge of the bed and laid me across her lap, rubbing her hand across the swell of my ass cheeks.

“Count for me.”

“W-what?” I asked and she slapped my ass.

I cried out, reaching back to shield my bottom, but she held my arm in place and swung again.

“Count.”

“One!” I cried.

Slap.

“Two!”

Slap.

“Three! Mommy, please!”

It went on for what felt like hours, and she would restart if I lost count - which I did. When we finally made it to ten, I was soaked and throbbing again, crying like a baby.

She pulled me to my feet and shushed me, wrapping me up in her arms and cradling me, doing her best to avoid touching my sore ass.

“You did so good, sweet girl.”

I sniffled, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

“Do you feel better now, mommy?”

She nodded against me and kissed my forehead. She brought her hand up to my breasts and unclasped the clamps on my nipples, finally freeing them. I hissed as she gently rolled my nipple between her fingers, alternating between them.

I looked down at my belly to see all the things she wrote on me; Mommy’s little cumslut, mutt, whore …

She ran her fingers over the words and kissed me, her hand drifting from my stomach to between my legs where I was dripping wet again.

“Can you give mommy another orgasm?” She asked as she played with my clit.

My eyes heavy with exhaustion, I nodded, not wanting to disappoint her.

“Such a good girl.” She whispered against my hair, her fingers swirling around my throbbing clit.

I gripped at her arms as she played with me, close to orgasm already. Honestly, anything Lizzie did to me instantly got me wet, and her spanking me was no exception.

I breathed heavily against her throat as she slipped her fingers inside me, curling them upward as she continued to rub my clit.

My legs shook as I came around her strong fingers, crying out pathetically as I did so. She held me close as I came down from my high, pressing her lips to my head as I relaxed in her arms.

“You did so good for me, my good girl.”

#elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen smut #elizabeth olsen x you #pure smut #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x you #elizabeth olsen #mommy wanda #wanda maximilf

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axel-skz · 10 months

Note

hey!! I have a request🤭;

Ok what about chan w a vv sleepy s/o like their always falling alseep everywhere or they can fall alseep rlly easily not like narcoleptic but just sleepy🤷‍♀️

Chan had always been very accepting of the fact that you were always sleepy. You had a talent of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, he was actually a little jealous. He struggled to sleep. It made him feel good to look after you though. Randomly feeling you fall asleep on his shoulder or somehow leaning on him or holding his hand.

It made him happy. He felt like you trusted him. To be able to fall asleep without worries around him. He slowly started to keep items in all the spaces he was in regularly. Things that would help keep you comfortable. He had a special drawer in his office with a nice pillow and there was always a blanket on the back of the sofa.

People noticed it in his live and he chalked it up to him taking naps in the office. But no, it was for you. He kept snacks for when you woke up and felt hungry. He would turn his music down as to not wake you as well as shushing anyone who came in.

You never realised just how strict he was about his shushing when one day, you were half asleep and jisung came in. He said something, fairly quietly. But there was Chan. This man, fully jumped like it was jumpscare in a movie. Then turned and so dramatically shushed Han that you would think he was Hyunjin.

He really loved you and made you feel so comfortable in your own skin. He never let you feel nervous or self conscious about it. He’d always say, ‘I get to hold you while you sleep. How could I be upset? I’m winning here.’

A/N: I’M CRYING RN! OMFG DO NOT LISTEN TO SAD SONGS WHILE READING THIS! I was listening to same boat by Lizzie Mcalpine and I’m just breaking down. The thought of someone so loving and accepting- my soul is dead.

Listen to cielings if you really wanna cry cus Istg that would hit so hard.

I hope this was better then the other stuff I’ve been posting lately :’) my brain is just not on my side lately and I’m so tired and sad. It’s hard to be anything rn.

I said this in my other post, todays song is Muddy water.

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dearshelby · 6 months

Text

No love, no more | T.S

Summary: The end of vendetta brings the crisis in Tommy's marriage to light. When his attempts of conciliation fail he refuses to face the truth, finding much more comfort in a lie.

A/N: I have absolutely no self control when it comes to this plot, I remember spending the night awake when I first had the idea a year ago. Now (hopefully), it's more realistic, in character and without 2048293839 spelling errors.

Tommy felt his heart gripping on his chest hearing his wife's laugh from across the living room. Not exactly melodic or exemplary from a lady, but genuine and deprived of worries, something he hadn't heard in months.

The end of the vendetta didn't bring the relief he thought it would, with John's death and a crisis in his marriage, he didn't have much to celebrate.

Nevertheless the party went on, Arthur talked to Bonnie with the same excitement a father would to a son, Ada and Finn seemed to be rebounding after so long apart, Lizzie and Polly had their own internal jokes going on, Linda seemed to have a hard time socializing and at last, Tommy's wife chatted with Aberama while he stood alone in a corner.

He bit his inner cheek, jealousy taking over his most rational side, he used to make her laugh, even after the war killed his youngful sense of humor his ironic or critical remarks rarely failed in putting a smile on her face.

However, he was well aware of the space growing between them, if he didn't do anything the chances of losing her were huge. Clearing his throat, he raised a toast, distracting her from Aberama and initiating his plan to get her back.

As the night fell on, the guests naturally collected themselves. Finally, Tommy was alone with her, the bedroom felt as tense as a battlefield, a step wrong and he's out of the game.

Sitting on the edge of bed while she removed her jewelry on the dressing table, he tried to start a conversation.

"It's over," he referred to the vendetta.

"...it is," she sized him up through the mirror, "the children are happy to go back to school,"

"Yeah," Tommy breathed out, surely the months every Shelby had to be recluse affected their learning process, he couldn't help but to feel guilty for that, his babies doing well in school was one of his biggest prides since he didn't have this privilege, still, at least they were alive and everything would go back to normal, "could've been worse,"

"Yeah, I wish John's children could go back too," she pursed her lips hesitantly, "y'know, sometimes I-"

"Yeah?" Tommy encouraged, surprised by the cold way she brought John up.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if none of this happened, it started with the guns and we never had peace after," she looked down at her own hands, "sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if Polly, Martha and I still ran the business and you- you and Arthur-"

She gulped, getting completely silent. Tommy felt his lips dry staring at her. Did she just admit she wished he was dead? Taking a drag of his cigarette, he preferred to believe his paranoia got the best of him. He had to believe or he'd go mad. If one of the few things keeping him alive wished he was dead, there was no point in everything he'd done for her

"Anyways, I- hm," she continued, "think I'll take a shower before bed."

"C'here," Tommy reached for her arm, what should've been an affectionate gesture of pulling her to his lap felt awkward and forced.

Her body was rigid in his embrace, seeming to avoid touching him more than necessary. His arms locked around her waist and his lips rested on her shoulder, at the same time she held his forearms with certain pressure, as if she could push him away at any moment.

The sweet scent of her perfume intoxicated Tommy's senses, he barely remembered the last time they intimately touched each other and by then, feeling her soft skin and her comforting weight on his thigh, he craved her badly.

"I love you," he whispered, still focused on putting their marriage back on the tracks, uncomfortable silence started with her lack of answer, he had no other option but to continue, "I know I pushed you away in the last months, I was-"

"Scared," she cut him off, "I know,"

"...and it's over now," Tommy completed, "now we have all the time in the fucking world,"

"To do what?"

"Well, for me personally," he changed his tone, sounding hopeful, "to take care of you,"

She sighed, pushing his arms away from her waist and cupping his cheeks, a pout showed on her lips as if she'd just been asked to do a long, boring task.

His eyes fell to her lips darkening with lust, he was the one to initiate a kiss, slow and full of desire. An unfamiliar, complaint-like sound left her lungs as he laid her on the bed, trailing the way down to her neck and collarbones.

Usually, Tommy's passionate acts would've ignited her fire, giving her shivers and the overwhelming urge of being close to him. That night wasn't the case, she laid down in silence, watching him lift her dress and massage her thighs in a pathetic attempt to turn her on.

When he removed her underwear and put his head in between her legs, she struggled to keep quiet, regardless of everything his tongue was still skilled, licking circles on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entry.

Soon, she came undone, a weak, nearly nonexistent smile crawled into Tommy's face, that was a good sign. However, as soon as she closed her legs, pushing herself up into the mattress, far from him, he realized an orgasm wouldn't be enough to get her favor back.

He grabbed her hip, kissed the exposed part of her thigh and smacked her ass before heading to the bathroom. Tomorrow would be a new day and with some luck, she'd recognise his efforts.

The morning arrived suspiciously quiet in the Shelby household, Tommy sat alone in the large dining room, the table was already set for breakfast but his family was nowhere to be seen.

The scene looked like a joke of poor taste for those close to the family, Thomas Shelby, known for skipping meals, was the first to get on the table.

He peeked at the clock, frowning as he realised everyone was terribly late, the children would miss some classes and his wife usually didn't stay in bed until late hours.

After two or three cigarettes, the food went cold and he was ready to go search for them. It wasn't necessary when his babies ran through the door and grabbed bread from the table.

"I'm gonna miss three more classes today, daddy," Florence, the youngest, started.

"Mama said she'll call the principal to explain what happened later," Anthony, his firstborn, completed.

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy asked, since himself didn't know and his wife still hadn't shown up, "And what happened, my boy?"

"I don't know," he shrugged off.

"She forgot to wake me up," the daughter explained, "the driver will go real fast so I'll get the french class!"

"That's a rhyme!" Anthony pointed out.

As they giggled to themselves, the worried mother showed up, still wearing pajamas covered by an expensive robe.

"I told you to go straight to the car!" she scolded.

"We wanted to talk to daddy!" Florence argued.

"Well, I suppose you just did,"

With the mother's final words, the children lowered their heads and walked out, leaving her and Tommy alone.

"Flora said you forgot to wake her up," he commented.

"Tommy, I-" she whined, annoyed by his tone, "I got an important call, alright?"

"Whose call?"

"From the institute!" she took the seat beside him, "What the hell was I supposed to say? Call later, I have to get my children ready for school? The maids are here to help with this too!"

Something was deeply wrong, from her defensive and aggressive answer to the said institute call at early hours in the morning. As much as it hurted to realize, Tommy knew she was lying to him, he only had to find out why.

"At least we'll have fucking breakfast together," he ironically spat.

"Oh, isn't that great?" she retaliated, filling her mouth with a piece of cake and avoiding looking at him.

The minimum appetite he had earlier was completely gone with the conflict. All he wanted was to have breakfast with his family, mainly with her, so she'd warm up to him again.

Everything went absolutely wrong and as a matter of fact, felt worse than yesterday.

"Look, I just-" Tommy started, "I just wanted to have breakfast with my family after a fucking vendetta ended, can I do that?"

"I don't know, can you?" pouring herself a cup of tea, she stood up from the table and headed out, "I'll change off these pajamas,"

Watching her leave, Tommy squinted, thinking of whatever the fuck else he could do for her to go back to herself, because that wasn't her, that cold, dismissive woman surely wasn't the one he married. As a last shot, he decided to offer what his kin seemed to like the most about him - his money.

Another day went by and they didn't have much contact. Still, when nighttime came, they were unavoidably reunited in their shared bedroom.

With the children in bed, the house was quiet once again. If it weren't for the lights on, anyone watching from outside would think it was empty.

"Did you speak to the principal?" he asked.

"Did," she sat on the end of bed, putting moisturizer on her arms.

"And?"

"They'll have some extra homework, he said they're smart children, they'll recover soon," she explained, "and about those months they missed, they'll stay until later hours twice a week,"

"And the institute?"

"What about it?" she gulped.

"Someone called at fucking sunrise," Tommy questioned, "I imagine it must've be something important,"

"Yeah, hm-" she stuttered, "someone wanted to make an anonymous donation,"

"Oh, there's no income registers in the book,"

"Because I haven't made any yet," she argued, "what is it, Tommy?"

"Just curious,"

She scoffed, turning her focus to herself.

"I've got something for you," he continued.

Her eyes slightly widened, it had been a long time since he surprised her, "For me?"

Opening the wardrobe's drawer, Tommy took a black velvet box, he stood in front of her and revealed a diamond necklace sparkling in its expensive glory.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she quietly asked, "It's not even my birthday,"

"Does a man need a reason to gift his wife?"

"I suppose," she allowed him to clasp the jewel around her neck.

"What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she pouted, "thank you, Tom,"

His shoulders dropped with her carelessness, she not only didn't seem excited, she seemed sad, tense about something he couldn't guess. Caressing her shoulder, he tried to get something out of her, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah,"

"So what's with that face?" his hands traveled from her shoulder to her cheek.

"Nothing, I just had a long day," in a smooth movement, she kissed and removed his hand from her.

Tommy watched her take the necklace off, walk to the wardrobe, get a blanket and make herself comfortable in bed, as if he wasn't even there, as if both he and the diamond were irrelevant. Then she peeked at him, silently asking if he wouldn't lay down.

Turning off the lights, he went back to his office, it wasn't an invitation to lay down with her, she only wanted him to end the day and stop demanding her attention. Tommy felt like he ran out of options, there was nothing to do but wait until the situation reached its peak.

Two months went by, time in which they practically lived alone, the others presence didn't add anything, few words were spoken and physical touch seemed forbidden.

No words could express how much Tommy missed his wife, to have her greeting him when he got home, to hear her excitedly dumping news from the institute on him, to feel her neediness in kisses that were meant to be a simple goodnight peck.

Frustrated and irritable, he decided to go home earlier on a Friday evening, he'd never expected the scene that welcomed him home. She happily talked to someone on the phone, laughing like she hadn't for long, realizing he was home, she put the phone down.

"You're early," she greeted.

"Who was that?" Tommy was quick in asking.

"Oh, just a friend of mine,"

"Friend," he nodded, "he must be really fucking funny, right?"

"Her," she lied, "and yes, she's really funny,"

"You should invite her over, maybe she can bring some fucking happiness to this house!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Tommy?" she shrunk her shoulders, intimidated by his loud tone.

"I'm talking about you talking on the fucking phone like everything is alright," he pointed out, "as if you hadn't fucking ignored me for two fucking months!'

Licking her lips, she looked down trying to hide the tear in her eyes. Sucking the air between her teeth, she whimpered, "I'm sorry,"

"What?" he froze, he expected anything from her except tears and an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she cried out, "I just- I didn't know what to do with everything we went through, I didn't know how to deal with it, I didn't know what to tell the children- I-

"Hey, hey-" he interrupted, guiding her into his embrace, "you could've said something,"

"Say what, Tommy? It 's pathetic!" she hid her teary face on his neck.

"I know, love," he soothed, "should've told me earlier,"

"I'm sorry,"

"I know,"

Holding her tightly against him, his most selfish side feasted on their closeness, she went back to him even if she had to fall apart for it.

"Let me make it up to you," she whispered, hands moving to his waist.

"Hm?"

"I've been such a terrible wife," she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, "and you kept up with me, let me thank you,"

"Thank me, eh?" he teased, "and how would you do that?"

"However you want me to, sir,"

Tommy gently held her neck, bringing her face closer to his. In this circumstance he could have her in any way he wanted, she wouldn't argue. Nevertheless, he didn't want roughness, he wasn't even mad at her anymore, all he wanted was to be desired by her.

"Take me upstairs, hm?" she continued, brushing the tip of their noses together.

Three hours later, they laid together in bed, while Tommy stared at the ceiling trying to find out what exactly went wrong, she was in deep slumber. Considering her tone and apologies, he expected some passionate love making or at least something that wasn't her just laying there, uninterested.

Peeking at her, he didn't know what else to do, perhaps he was the one getting mad after all, missing a sort of relationship that only happened in his head. Officially, there was nothing else to do.

The only thing to change in her behavior was from then on, she had her eyes on Tommy all the time, observing, seeming to wait for the perfect moment to something.

After another four long weeks, he learned what she was waiting for. On a warm evening, Tommy took some time away from the business and sat under a tree, enjoying the sun rays on his skin.

"Can we talk?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Arching his eyebrows in surprise, he positively nodded.

"Tommy, I don't know how to tell you this," she hesitantly started, "I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing by telling you this,"

He felt his body tense with her tone, as if it was a bomb about to shell.

"I've been avoiding it for the last months because I thought it'd be temporary, I thought it'd be something that'd end soon and I'd go back to you but- ugh-" she sighed, "There's someone else,"

Tommy's throat burnt, he couldn't even believe his first reaction was the urge to cry. Still, his face remained blank, he looked away from her and frowned, as secondary emotion, rage came in a wave.

"Who is he?" was all he managed to ask.

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes, it does," he threateningly drawled, "I wanna know who you consider a better fuck than me,"

"It's not about the sex, Tommy,"

"What is it about then? The dresses and jewels I filled your wardrobe with? Or perhaps the driver I picked wasn't of your liking-"

"I'm not going to fight you," she cut him off, "I've said what I had to say and now there's this, he wants me to move with him,"

Tommy gulped, some fucker had been planning to take away his wife right under his nose and he hadn't done anything about it.

"And I think I will but only if I take the children with me,"

"Oh," he scoffed, "and what makes you think I'll allow that?" he challenged, in any other circumstance he would, knowing how much children usually were attached to their mothers but his ego was hurt.

"The judge will decide that," she calmly answered, "he might not let a cheater have them but he certainly wouldn't let a gangster either,"

"...you wouldn't," Tommy argued, perplexed by her coldness. His beloved wife just threatened to snitch on him.

"I don't want to, so don't force me,"

Tense, dangerous silence fell between them, both looked away from each other, without any words left to speak, they could hear the laughs of their children playing in the garden.

Few minutes passed, the longest in Tommy's life, he often had moments like this, in which his life course could be permanently altered in a matter of seconds.

"Don't do it," he started, still not looking at her.

"I'll not if you-"

"None of it, don't take the children, don't leave me," the second their eyes met, he sensed hesitation on her, so he continued, "don't you love me?"

"Tom, I-" she softened up.

"Did you ever?"

"Of course I did, a lot!" she quickly answered, "But if I say I do now I think it'd be a lie,"

"...so lie."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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