#anyway uh. enjoy. Or don't!

[sentientcave]

Presenting Sadie Blackmoore-Price in Nobody Does it Better

Sadie wouldn't have worn this dress if she'd known that her ex-husband, SAS Major John Price would be here.

Read on AO3

Contains: Trips down memory lane, Attempts to rekindle a failed marriage, Set in the future (roughly 2032), Oral sex (F and M receiving), P in V sex, Unprotected sex (don't do this), Brief daddy kink (You can't tell me John Price doesn't love being called daddy I simply will not believe you), Tabloid mentions, Sadie is a politician (Politicians in real life aren't sexy but this is a fantasy world where the UK Secretary of Defense can be a hot MILF), One mention of possible stalking.

~7.1k - Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact -

Sadie felt his presence before the big hand landed lightly on her back. Before he leaned over her and spoke, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “Excuse me, gents, was wondering if I could borrow the lady for a moment.”

They evaporated in an instant. John had that effect on people.

“Hi, John.” Sadie didn’t bother looking at him. Or resisted looking at him, rather. At an official function like this, he’d be wearing his dress uniform, and it always reminded her, rather unfairly, of their wedding day. And that always reminded her of him pulling her away from the reception to absolutely wreck her with his fingers and tongue, until she was so frustrated that she ended up dragging him off to their hotel room and riding his cock, both of them in too much of a rush to get undressed.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he purred, his rough fingertips gliding over her exposed back. She wouldn’t have chosen that particular dress if she’d known John would be there. “You look gorgeous.”

She turned her head slightly, eyebrows raised. “Don’t give me that, John. Your last girlfriend was nearly Scout’s age.”

“Keeping tabs on me, are you?” He steered her to the side of the room with just the barest pressure, all too easily despite her efforts to remain aloof, unaffected.

“Of course I am. I thought you were in the states this week, running those joint combat exercises with the marines.”

“Hm, is that why you wore this dress? Because you thought I was all the way across the Atlantic?” His touch skirted up her spine, hand settling on the back of her neck. “Who are you trying to impress, darling?”

“Kate and Michelle are here.”

“Ah, so they are. You hopin’ to take them home?”

Sadie shrugged, heat gathering high on her cheeks. “Might be.”

“Think I can change your mind?”

“No.”

His fingers squeezed slightly. It took everything she had not to melt all over the floor. Even after all these years apart, he still knew how to play her body like a fiddle. He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. “Are you so sure? I’m fairly confident that I can, and we can’t both be right.”

“What makes you think that?” Sadie scoffed, glancing around the room, looking for someone she could flag down or start a conversation with to escape, but every time she made eye contact with someone, they quickly looked away. No one quite brave enough to consider pissing off Major Price by interrupting his little reunion. It was a shame he was still so effective. It would be one hell of a power play if she could get his ass fired.

“Because you won’t look at me. I know this uniform reminds you of our wedding night.” He smiled when she finally looked over, exasperated. “There’s my Sadie.”

“John, I’m not your anything anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.”

His hand dropped to her waist, and he tugged her along beside him. If she’d had any sense, she would have shoved him away and gone home alone immediately. It wasn’t as if she was going to get any networking done with John hanging over her shoulder and making everyone nervous.

“You’ll always be mine, Sadie. You kept my name, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. It was for Scout—”

“Hm, that might’ve flown as an excuse ten years ago, Sadie. You’ve been married and divorced since then. Could’ve taken his last name. Could’ve dropped mine.” Somehow, he’d guided her into a side hallway, gotten her alone and isolated before she could regroup. He backed her against a wall, strong arms caging her in. “But you didn’t. Are you going to tell me that your rings aren’t hung on this little chain?” His blunt fingertips followed the thin necklace, halting short of where it disappeared under her dress.

“I hate you.”

He slipped a finger under the chain and pulled it free, her engagement and wedding rings clinking against each other faintly. “I really don’t think you do, darlin’.”

He let the rings fall, on the outside of the dress now, her inconvenient sentimentality brought to light. Sadie took a deep breath, glaring at him, readying a tirade that would make him wish he was in America like he was supposed to be.

All of those keen soldierly instincts told John exactly what she was going to do, so he struck first, diving in for a kiss before she could tear him to little pieces. And he kissed just like he used to, too much tongue, enthusiasm bordering on desperation, like he would perish if he didn’t get a proper taste of her.

For years, Sadie had been so careful to not let him get his hands on her, keeping doors and distance between them, making sure their daughter was always present when they had to be in a room together, to keep John from getting too handsy, dressing conservatively so he couldn’t stroke his clever fingers against bare skin. He’d ambushed her tonight, gotten under her guard before she’d even known he was there.

She had always known that the instant he touched her like this that she’d be helpless, all good sense thrown to the wolves as she returned the kiss, clinging to his shoulders to pull him closer, knocking the beret off his head as she ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. He didn’t even have the decency to go bald, like most men their age. In her opinion, he looked better than he had when they were married— The last few times he’d come sniffing around looking for another chance, she’d nearly given it to him. The muttonchops would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but it had taken considerable effort on her part not to drag him inside by the collar and kiss him senseless the first time he’d shown up with that precisely trimmed beard with a bouquet of her favourite flowers in hand (gladiolus and roses and carnations, something he’d picked out specifically, not out of some catalogue). She’d kept the flowers, and slammed the door in his face.

When her husband asked about them, she’d lied through her teeth and told him that she’d picked them up for herself on the way home.

John kissed his way across her jaw to her ear. “You still livin’ in that big flat on Knightsbridge?” he purred.

“Oh, um—” a familiar voice squeaked nervously, pulling Sadie and John’s attention to the nervous face of Sadie’s assistant, a bubbly, round-faced young woman named Emily. She eyed John with the sort of wide-eyed wariness that one might usually reserve for a wild animal. “Sorry, Madam Secretary. The French ambassador was looking for you. But I’ll, um, tell him you’ve gone home early?”

“Yes, thank you, Emily,” Sadie said, as professionally as she could with John still unashamedly feeling her up.

“Have someone bring her car around, would you, pet?” John asked, smiling wickedly at the poor girl.

Sadie nodded when Emily looked a her for confirmation, and watched as she fled the hall as fast as her sensible flat shoes could take her. “John, you couldn’t behave yourself for all of one minute?” she asked tiredly.

“Certainly not. Got about twenty years to make up for.”

“You’re not going to manage that in one night,” Sadie said, laughing and then gasping as he kissed across her collarbone and back to her neck, tongue dragging across her pulse. “And you’re not getting more than one night.” He hummed, unconvinced, teeth finding purchase at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She hung on to him tightly, the solid bulk of his body the only thing keeping her upright. “John, come on, let’s go wait for the ca-a-ar,” her voice broke on the last word as he pinched her nipple through the fabric of her dress. “John, please, just wait till we get home.” She regretted the phrasing instantly. “Back to mine, I mean.”

Too late. He pulled back to look at her, eyes shining with clear, wicked intention. “Home, huh?” He pressed his forehead to hers, so that she couldn’t escape looking right at him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? But it’s what you said, isn’t it?” His fingers closed around the rings, and he tugged lightly, snapping the thin chain, his other hand tracing along the outside of her left arm to find her wrist. The chain slipped through his fingers to the floor.

“John, what are you doing?” Sadie asked.

“Something I should’ve done years ago,” he replied, lifting her hand so he could slot the rings back onto her finger. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles, eyes sparkling. “Now, lets get home hm? Want to see if that pretty cunt tastes as good as I remember.” He stepped back, keeping his hand closed around hers so that she couldn’t take the rings back off to fling them at him, and stooped down to grab his hat, fixing it back into place.

“John, we’re not together again, this is not going to be— John!” She squeaked, a thoroughly undignified sound, as he scooped her off her feet, holding her against his chest in a bridal carry. “You’re going to make a scene!” she hissed. “Don’t— No, don’t go that way!”

The stares that landed on them as John carried her through the main room were humiliating, to say the least. She accidentally made eye contact with the French ambassador, who winked at her. He’d probably only just gotten her excuse from Emily, and now he knew that she was lying and leaving with her ex-husband. She was sure to be the centre of some truly ridiculous gossip for a little while.

John smiled wolfishly, pleased as punch that they were getting looks, striding across the room like he owned the entire world. He’d always been arrogant, so sure of himself, and it had only gotten worse, twenty years of experience telling him that he could have anything he wanted, so long as he possessed the will to reach out and take it. He was laying claim, telling everyone in the room, her colleagues, friends, acquaintance and strangers, that she was his. Maybe in his mind, she had never been anything else.

“You’re awful, you know that, don’t you?” Sadie asked. “I should never have married you.”

“I know. But don’t say that. We’d never have had Scout if we hadn’t.”

“That’s true. I suppose I’m glad we did then.” As if Sadie could ever regret their daughter, that was so much like her, and so much like John, and somehow so much better than the both of them.

"We could have more. It's not too late," he murmured, leaning in close.

Sadie caught the gleam of a camera lens and quickly put her hand up to obscure as much of John's face as she could, realizing half a moment too late that she'd just flashed her wedding rings at the bloody press. "John, I am forty-six years old. I'm not having more children."

He smiled. "Sure I can't convince you? Another girl, just like Scout? Or maybe a son, as smart and driven as you are, my nose and your eyes." He ignored the few shouted questions and loaded her into the car that idled beside Emily. "Thanks, duck," he said, sliding in beside Sadie. "I've got her from here."

"Do you need a ride home, darling?" Sadie asked, leaning across John and speaking through the rolled down window. "I don't want to leave you all alone. Ben can drop us at my building and take you home."

Emily nodded and slid into the front seat. "Thank you, ma'am. I was going to call a cab."

"No, absolutely not. I know Ben would be happy to drive you anywhere you need. Don't hesitate to ask him." Sadie reached forward and patted the driver on the shoulder. “Right, Ben?”

He grinned at her through the rearview mirror. “Of course, ma’am. Miss Emily is my second favourite passenger.”

“He’s angling for a raise,” Sadie said to John, laughing. “And he is about due for one, by my accounting.”

“Wouldn’t know, ma’am,” Ben said blithely.

John’s hand landed on Sadie’s thigh. He’d always been a bit of a jealous bastard, even in situations like this one, where it made no sense for him to be. Even if Ben were not her employee, he was at least fifteen years younger, and she was fairly sure he had a little crush on Emily. But what did she know, really? She had never been that good at identifying those kind of feelings, in herself or others. Always had to rely on what people told her. She recognized fear, ambition, could spot a lie like it was lit up with a neon sign. When it came to love, she compared everything and everyone to John, and no one ever matched his intensity.

There was no doubt that they would be fighting within a day, and that she’d throw him out after three, on the outside, but there was still something between them. He had that same mischievous glint in those blue eyes as he had the day they’d met at some house party one of her friend’s older sisters had thrown. John had been a friend of a friend of the sister’s boyfriend, there more by chance than anything else. He’d punched out some creep that had been all over her, and of course, that meant that she was his girl, from then on.

Other than a kiss that shook her whole world to it’s foundations, the first few months of their relationship had been conducted by letters and emails and text messages, each with separate conversations. He was smart, as well as handsome and tough, and he wrote directly, bluntly, dryly, interspersed with sentences that read more like poetry. The sky is red, this morning, like the dress you wore, like the lipstick marks you left on my collar. I thought missing you would feel blue.

How could she do anything except jump into his arms when she saw him next?

He asked her to marry him three times-- She'd said no the first two, because she was young, still in college, still figuring herself out, and yes the third, because he was persistent, because he loved her, because he wanted to know she'd be taken care of if anything happened to him. As if there was any risk, really. She came from a wealthy family, old money on her father's side and new on her mother's. Her parents made him sign a prenup, and bought them a house as a wedding present. Or bought Sadie a house, rather, and John lived there whenever he was home. The distance might have chafed for anyone else, but Sadie liked having time to herself, to focus on school, her friends, the summer work at her father's arms manufacturing facility. John was like a vacation from everything else, a whirlwind that hit a few times a year.

Then he'd started talking about family, about having kids, about turning that pleasant whirlwind of affection into a tornado that would last all year, all of every day. She'd aborted the first pregnancy, too scared to tell John-- She still hadn't told him-- but she didn't have the same excuses when the next pregnancy took root. Sadie graduated eight months pregnant with Scout.

The problem with being a mother, was that she was expected to put so much on hold. John had been out in the field when Scout was born, and she'd been alone for the first few months, barely holding it together. John's mother had been a great help, coming a few times a week to help her tidy up and make sure she was eating, but she resented John his freedom. She hated him for being far away, for fatherhood changing nothing for him and everything for her.

John’s facial hair tickled her ear when he leaned in close. They were just pulling up to he building now. “Where’d you go, Sadie?”

She let him help her out of the car, and bid goodbye to Ben and Emily before responding. “Just thinking about where it all went wrong.”

He sighed, hurt flashing in his eyes. “Come on, Sadie. You don’t want to think about that.”

“Someday, I’d love to stop thinking about it,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“I know where it went wrong,” John said, crowding her into the lift and pressing her up against the wall before she could press the button for her floor. “I never should have let you kick me out. Should’ve worked it out right then and there.”

“Your way of working things out never fixed anything, John. Just made us forget a little while.” She sighed, smoothing her hands down the front of his jacket. “Maybe you should just go. This is a bad idea.”

John quickly leaned over and hit the button for the top floor. “It’s not a bad idea, Sadie. We still belong together.”

That kind of talk was the exact reason why she shouldn’t even consider rekindling anything. He wanted a night or two of passion to mean something more, and she couldn’t let it be more. But the lift doors opened, and he ushered her out into her foyer, kissing the back of her shoulder and neck while she unlocked the door. He didn’t give her a chance to try to shut him out, using every dirty trick he could think of to keep he off balance. She offered him a drink, hoping to prolong things, talk for a moment, and he accepted, but he pushed her over the back of her couch as soon they reached it, and sank to the floor behind her, pushing her dress up over her hips.

“John!” she complained. “That’s not what I meant by—” The sharp snk of a blade opening, the back of the blade running along her skin cut her off. He sawed through the silky fabric of her panties in seconds, rather than contend with the garter clips and stockings. He’d always had a thing for garter belts.

“Sorry?” he asked. “What were you saying?”

“I—” She bit back a whimper as he licked across her cunt, the tip of his tongue parting her folds to taste her. His hands slid up her thighs to her ass, squeezing appreciatively.

“Didn’t quite catch that, love.” His voice was a bit breathy, like the smallest taste of her was enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Oh shut up, John,” Sadie said crossly. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

He chuckled, biting down hard on her ass. Probably intentionally trying to leave a mark, the bastard. For all his bluff and bluster, he knew just as well as she did that this was only temporary, and he wanted to make sure she remembered it for a long while afterwards. She tried to kick him, but he just caught her leg and pushed it up and to the side, giving himself more room as he pressed his face to her cunt and started feasting on her, groaning.

The sounds he made were filthy— It was almost impressive how much John could make it seem like eating pussy was more for him than for her— and it seemed more that he was getting reacquainted with a long lost love than actively trying to get her off. Still, he knew exactly what he was doing, like he’d memorized the steps to have her come apart on his tongue, tight circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue, hard sucks that he pulled away from with a slick, wet pop, licking into her hole and lapping up arousal, growling and groaning, hands holding her in place with a bruising grip.

He brought her to the edge three times, but didn’t tip her over. He wanted her begging. It wasn’t enough for him that she was practically sobbing into the couch cushions, breath catching, crying out desperately. Well, she wasn’t going to entertain the notion. “John, if you don’t make me come in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to kick you out and call someone who will.”

He laughed, surmising that she didn’t exactly have a list of casual lovers that she could call up on a moments notice (not entirely accurate, with Kate and her wife in town), or maybe thinking she was joking (she wasn’t), but he picked up the pace regardless, sliding two thick fingers into her cunt and replacing his tongue with his thumb. “Impatient as always,” he chastised her. “You can come, baby. Come all over daddy’s fingers.”

His voice was so sexy now, roughened by age and years of smoking. It was hard to say if it was that growled command or the over-stimulation, or the way he curled his fingers inside her that sent her into cataclysm, but she came hard, legs shaking, muffling her cry in the cushions. He continued the cruel-clever movement of his fingers to draw out her orgasm.

“Fuck, gorgeous girl, I missed this pussy. Just as tight and wet as I remember.”

Sadie pushed herself up on shaking arms as he withdrew his fingers. She tried to think of something appropriately cutting, but she hadn’t come like that in ages, and it was a bit flattering to think that she had changed so little in all the years. He had changed— Not just the timbre of his voice, but the patience of his touch, the way he sought to unravel her completely, show her that experience had only made him better.

He wrapped an arm around her and dragged her upright, onto legs that wobbled like a newborn fawn, still recovering. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, breathing her in. “Can’t believe you still wear the same perfume,” he said wistfully. “I like this one.”

“I usually don’t. I felt like doing something different.” Sadie swatted at him playfully, laughing despite herself when he rubbed his face against her shoulder. “John, your beard is soaked,” she complained.

She could feel his grin. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours! You decided to grow that silly thing.” She turned in his arms, tipping her head to the side while she studied him. “I do think it suits you.”

“Yeah?” He puffed up slightly from the praise, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You don’t think I look old now?” he asked, keeping his tone light, hiding real insecurity under that teasing facade.

“No. Seasoned. Experienced, maybe. But not old yet.” Sadie carded her fingers through his hair, smiling to reassure him that she meant it. “I think you look better now than you did twenty years ago.”

Something in his eyes turns soft, loving. “You think so?”

“Of course I do. Now stop looking at me like that.” She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, salt and sweet. “You know we can’t get back together, John. You only think it would work because you’re just remembering the good parts. I know they were really good, but there’s no road back.”

“I’m not askin’ for things to be the same, Sadie.” He brushed his knuckles against her spine, the other hand anchored on her hip, keeping her close. “Maybe things could be better now.” He swayed, moving her along with him, turning slow circles like they were dancing.

“John,” Sadie said softly. “I can’t give you what you need. You still want a family, more kids, a wife who wants to be at home to raise them with you. We can’t turn back the clock, and even if we could, that wasn’t the life for me then, and it’s definitely not for me now.”

“I still love you.” And god help her, he meant it.

“I know, John. I love you too. I always will. But—”

He kissed her again, a long, lingering one that sent prickles down her spine. He didn’t want to hear it, still wanted to draw out the delusion a little longer. “Let me take you to bed.” He spoke with a voice laced with devotion, near zealotry. Too stubborn to stop worshipping at the alter of their failed marriage, still trying to rebuild a house that had burned down long ago. John Price hated to admit defeat, hated to be wrong.

“Alright,” she whispered it back, as if trying to sneak it past good sense and self-preservation. Those parts of herself would have to cede ground tonight, relent enough for them both to get this out of their systems.

Once more, with feeling. Just one night for them to pretend that what was broken could be fixed, that there was something to rebuild on that old foundation, even though they both knew better.

John picked her up again and carried her to her bedroom. Funny that he remembered the way so well, even though he had only been to the apartment a handful of times, and not once had been invited to her room. Of course, knowing John, he’d broken in dozens more times and been over every inch of the place. Something that probably should have bothered her, but just felt par for the course. He might have still been in love with a girl long gone, but she knew well the kind of man her first husband had become. A General in all but name, someone who controlled the battlefield, commanded respect, and saw obstacles as inconveniences overcome with enough grit and determination. Boundaries were just lines in the sand, erased and rewritten on a whim.

He set her down and turned her, undoing the buttons that held the halter straps of the dress around her neck, and then ran his hands over the sides of the dress, searching for the zipper. He found it quickly, and Sadie let the gown slip to the floor, her heels clicking as she stepped free from the pool of silky material and turned toward John, turning her face up for a kiss while she loosened his tie and he shed his jacket, throwing it behind him blindly. She took her time with the buttons of his shirt, revealing an expanse of dark hair thick over powerful muscle. Yet another part of him that had improved with age.

John tossed the shirt in the same direction as his jacket, and stilled her hands when she reached his belt. “Greedy girl,” he said smugly. “But you’re going to have to ask nicely if you want daddy’s cock.”

An old tactic that used to fluster her. At least all of his tricks didn’t still turn her into a useless puddle of need. Sadie kissed him again, nipping at his lower lip, fingernails dragging down his neck lightly. “Please?”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Her fingertips trailed down his chest. “I didn’t make you beg, did I?”

“No, you just made me wait twenty bloody years.” John grinned, cupping her face and pulling her in for yet another kiss, like he couldn’t get enough of her, reminded of simpler times, when they both were young, optimistic and in love. No one kissed like John did, like he needed her more than air. His fingers carded back into her hair, scattering pins all over the floor, her careful updo undone. He steered her backwards until her knees hit the bed, and pushed her down gently, pulling his mouth away from hers as he straightened back up.

“You know why I stayed away, John. We both needed to move on. And you did.” She hooked her fingers into his belt and tugged him closer, parting her thighs so he could stand between them. The rings on her finger winked at her in the low light, reminding her that it wasn’t him that had struggled to move on.

As if there was anyone else that even compared.

She kissed his stomach, appreciating the soft layer he’d accumulated over the past few years of desk work, hands planted on his thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Are you going to let me take care of you?”

“Since you asked so pretty,” he said, his beautiful hands finally dropping to the belt buckle, making a show of freeing his cock while she waited impatiently. He gave himself a few rough strokes, his other hand settling in her hair to keep her from leaning forward until he gave her the go ahead. She hated to admit it, but this was the cock that she measured all else against. Thick, just the right length to fill her completely without it becoming painful, and pretty, uncut, the tip flushed pink. “Show me that tongue, Sadie,” he growled.

She obeyed, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out for him.

He tapped his cock against her tongue, smearing salty pre across it. She tried to dip forward and take him into her mouth, but John held her back by her hair, grinning down at her. "So eager for me. Did you miss this cock, Sadie? None of your little boyfriends ever compared, did they?"

"No," she said, and it was the truth. No one had ever compared to him— It seemed unfair that she'd met him so young, that he'd ruined her for anyone else before she even knew how rare men like him were. He was flawed, yes, deeply flawed, and she'd never been soft enough to accommodate his sharp edges, but he made love the same way he made war, fully, completely, with his entire being. "None of them have even been half as good."

That seemed to please the proud, jealous animal in his chest. His blue eyes glittered with satisfaction, and he let her lean forward to close her lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound he made when she did ran down Sadie's spine like electricity. Another thing she’d always liked about him. He was appreciative as she licked and sucked and stroked his cock, vocal, growling out praise like he couldn’t bear to stop, a litany of good girl, and fuck, just like that, and god, you look so beautiful like this and more that she could barely make out, like he had lost his ability to enunciate the moment she swallowed around the tip of his cock. It was tough to take him that far— Her jaw ached already from the effort of keeping her teeth away from sensitive skin, but it was worth it for the way his knees shook, the hands buried in her hair gripping so tight that she couldn’t help but moan.

That was what pushed him over the edge. The thought that she enjoyed it as much as he did. “Fuck, Sades, m’gonna—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before he came, spilling thick, hot spend over her tongue. She swallowed it down, licking any trace of it from his too sensitive cock, until he growled and pulled her away. “Bloody hell, you’ve learned some new tricks.”

“Of course I have.” She leaned back on one hand, watching him shed the rest of his clothes while she ran her other thumb under her bottom lip, rubbing away the pale remnants of lipstick that had been bright red earlier in the evening, until John kissed most of it away. There was probably some smeared on the couch cushions too. “It has been twenty years.”

John dropped down to one knee and picked up her foot, unbuckling the strap of her shoe and easing it off. “Far too long, darlin’. Missed you somethin’ fierce.” He dug his thumb into the arch of her foot, humming contentedly when she sighed and sank back onto her elbows. “There’s never been anyone that compared to you either.”

“Flatterer.”

“I’m serious, Sadie. No one. I hate that we weren’t together all this time. Should’ve been better for you. Should’ve listened more.” The blue of his eyes in the low lamplight was sincere, piercing, like he needed her to understand just how grievously sincere he was, how much he meant it.

That was John, though. A man that couldn’t give up his vices, no matter how much they hurt him. Conviction that would outlive the earth and all the stars in the sky. At the end of the universe, it would just be John, gripping tight to what remained, jaws sunk deep into what he couldn’t bear to let go of.

“I let you go for a reason, John. Love isn’t always enough. You wanted me to be something I wasn’t, and I couldn’t be what you needed. I could hardly be what Scout needed. I probably failed there.” She reached out, brushing her fingertips through his hair and down the side of his neck. “I wanted you to find someone else. I was a bad wife and a terrible mother.”

His eyes dropped, hands moving to take off her other shoe, mouth set in a grim, unhappy line. “You weren’t. I should’ve been there. You kept telling me you needed me there, and I didn’t listen.”

“It’s in the past.” Nothing could be changed at that point. Sadie wasn’t sure that she would have changed anything. “You have to forgive yourself, John. It’s not your fault things didn’t work, and it’s not mine either. Sometimes People just don’t belong together. We would have made each other miserable.”

“I still think we could make it work.”

“Ever the optimist,” Sadie teased. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow, John. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

That spurred John to his feet. “You just did, darlin’. I think it’s my turn again.”

They settled closer to the head of the bed, his arms wrapped around her possessively while they kissed. Some of the frenetic energy of earlier was gone now, need giving way to want. The enthusiasm from earlier was still present, but John set a languid, easy pace as he licked into her mouth, matching faded anamnesis to new reality, committing every detail to memory. His hands roamed, pulling her tighter against him, as though hoping to pull her into his own skin, desperate for reconnection, apprehensive of the severance they both knew would come. His touch was none too gentle, palms pressed firmly to skin as he explored every inch of her. He needed to map and catalogue the terrain, ever the soldier, familiarizing himself with the field of battle.

She allowed herself a similar exploration, skimming her fingertips over powerful muscle, petting through he thicket of hair on his chest, tracing new and old scars alike. The foundation was much the same, but the topography had changed, the unkindness of the years writ plain across his skin.

Her fingers wandered further down. It was hard not to break the kiss with a smile when he made a soft sound of surprise. Was he so unused to initiation? Perhaps that was the downside of partnering with younger women not yet comfortable with their own desires. Although Sadie was fairly certain that she’d never had any trouble taking what she wanted. Sentiment echoed by John when he pulled back slightly, grinning, as she wrapped her fingers around his cock again. “Impatient girl,” he grumbled. “Some things really don’t change.”

“I don’t recall that being a problem for you.” He was already half hard, twitching with interest at just a few gentle strokes, tip nudging against her thigh. “But we are getting older, aren’t we?” she asked, biting back a laugh at his scandalized expression. “I can be patient for you, daddy.”

His eyes sparked hot again. That was still a sure-fire way to get his engines rumbling back to life, his cock swelling under her fingers. “I don’t think you can, sweetheart. S’not in your nature.” He knocked her hand away, making room between their bodies for his thick fingers to slot between her legs. “So fuckin’ wet. All from takin’ care of me?”

Sadie nodded, hooking her leg over his hips to give him more room. “You always make it worth my while.”

John’s fingers parted her slick folds, rubbing soft circles around her clit, kissing her again, drinking her whimpered reactions from her lips, too greedy and covetous to waste them on the room around them. He brought her to the brink, focused on her clit until her legs started shaking, until she tucked her head down against his chest, too dizzy to let him steal any more of her breath.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” John asked wickedly, curling forward so he could kiss the spot in front of her ear. “Need you to before I fuck you. Be a good girl for me.”

Sadie pressed her face into his chest, nails digging into his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground herself before he had her arching into his touch, crying out, toes curling as her orgasm tore through her body, leaving her shaking and blinking away stars.

His touch slowed, turning gentle to coax her through it. “There we go. Good girl, Sadie. Always so perfect for me.” Satisfied that the last echoes had begun to fade away, he rolled on top of her, one hand planted on he bed while he lined himself up with her sensitive cunt and pushed in slowly, his eyes glued to her face, searching for any hint of discomfort. He stilled for a moment when he hilted fully inside her. “Fuck. You still feel like heaven, Sadie. Still feel like you’re made for me.”

Although she was loathe to admit it, she felt the same way. He felt perfect inside her, just thick enough for the stretch to burn pleasantly, just long enough to fill her completely without ramming into her cervix on every thrust. No one fit just right except John, as if he had carved out a place for himself all those years ago, and she’d always been waiting for him to come home. She pitched her hips up to give him a better angle, winding her arms around his neck so she could drag him down for another kiss. He started to move slowly, shallow, grinding thrusts that hit every sensitive spot inside her, as though he couldn’t bear to pull away even for as long as it took to push back in.

"John, please," she murmured against his lips, hardly moving away enough to speak.

John reared back and hooked her legs over his arms, gripping her hips tightly so he could drill into her with purpose. She pressed her hands against the headboard to keep them from inching up the bed, a breathless laugh turning to a moan. He watched her though half lidded eyes, the fondness in his expression countering the almost animal way he fucked her, hips snapping into her hard, hitting that spongy spot with every thrust, all the accuracy of a sniper even now. “I love you,” he growled, one hand sliding across her hip, thumb zeroing in on her clit. “Has anyone ever made you feel like I do, Sadie?”

She yelped, overstimulated, but arching into his touch anyway, greedy for anything he could give her still. “No one,” she panted. “Never.”

“That’s right,” he dropped down, folding her legs up toward her chest, hardly interrupting his pace, although the change in angle had Sadie crying out, legs shaking. She wrapped her arms around him to keep him close, manicured nails digging into his back. “You’re still mine. You’ll always be mine.”

In that moment it was hard to argue, especially with her own body agreeing with him, her cunt gripping him tight in response to his possessive words. She pressed her face into his shoulder rather than answer, biting down hard as everything reached a crescendo, muffling her scream. John groaned in her ear, the sensation of her coming around him, of her teeth buried in his shoulder hard enough to bruise sending him over with her. She could feel the hot throb as he came inside her as deeply as he could, filling her up as if he meant to mark her as his forever, like he forgot their age and still hoped to make good on his dreams of breeding her again, picking their life up from where they dropped it so long ago.

Sadie let her head hit the mattress, but didn’t let go, arms and legs still locked tight around him. He panted, kissing her neck, more of his weight dropping down on top of her as his limbs grew heavy.

After a moment, he pulled himself together enough to untuck his head and kiss her again, until she finally let him go.

It was strange how they fell into a familiar routine after, cleaning themselves up, brushing their teeth side by side, watching each other in the mirror, just like they used to. He teased her for having so many little bottles of goop to layer on her face after she washed up, but he didn’t go anywhere either. They changed the sheets, laughing about the rather pronounced wet spot they’d left, and finally fell into it, wrapped up together to sleep.

Sadie slid out of bed in the morning, gently untangling herself from John. He made a grumpy, sleepy sound, cracking open his eyes in the weak gray light.

“Come back here,” he grumbled, reaching across the bed, fingers brushing her back, not quite fast enough to snag her and pull her back in. “Not done with you.”

“I’ll just be a moment. I’m going to start coffee so it’s ready when you are done with me.”

John rolled onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head and watching her pull a robe on, blue eyes hot. “I never will be.”

Sadie sent a fond look over her shoulder and padded into the kitchen, making coffee on auto-pilot, snagging her phone out of her abandoned purse to check her emails quickly on the way back to the bedroom. Nothing pressing, although a text came in just as she was about to set it down. John snagged her around the waist and pulled her onto the bed, curling around her to peer over her shoulder.

Scout: Hey, what the hell is this?

Sadie laughed as she opened the link that came through a moment later, tilting her phone so John could see the picture better. One of the pictures that had been snagged outside Westminster last night, with John carrying her, a red circle in the corner of the image a zoom in on the rings on her finger, with the headline Sadie’s Choice.

Scout: I’ll save you the read, but apparently you’re quite the heart-breaker in the house of commons.

Scout: Are you and dad getting back together?

John kissed Sadie’s shoulder, tugging the phone out of her hand and gently tossing it onto the side table. “You can answer that later. I’m not quite finished making my case.”

She let John pull her down on top of him, still smiling as she kissed him.

It couldn’t hurt to hear him out.

Image Credits: Title Card 1 - 2 - Dividers

Graphics made in Canva by me!

[waterfallofspace]

Feeling sad and lonely? Like you don't have a purpose in life, and no one cares about you?

No more! Starting today, instead of sitting around feeling sad, try Thinking About Your Favourite Fictional Characters Sneezing!

Not sure what to do with your life? Your blorbo stifling an allergy fit!

Lonely and craving human connection? Your lil guy getting induced by a kink!partner!

The days and nights seem to move by in an ever-flowing passage of time that you're just swept along in? They have a sneezy cold and need to be taken care of!

Instead of Sad, try Sneeze instead!

[Available wherever your brain will be merciful and let you dissociate, results may vary, use with caution, side effects may include: h*rny thoughts, snz headcanons, craving more canon snz, and the eventual & inevitable loneliness returning as you realize they are still fictional]

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🌸 !!CHAPTER TWELVE POSTED!! 🌸

Title: Four Walls

Tags: Slow burn, domesticity, friends to lovers, smut, pining post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

[mentalmeles]

Memory of a Kiss

Pairing: Stucky (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes)

Word count: 2.5k

......We all knew it was a matter of time before I did this.

I can't write multi chapter stuff, but I can write small one shots, so!! Have this short one shot of Bucky regaining a memory while recovering under Steve's care.

When does this take place? Who's to say? I don't know and it doesn't matter. Regardless, please enjoy my silly lil thoughts about these two old men uwu

--------------------------------------------------------

“We…” Bucky begins, his brows knitted in concentration. “We used to k-k-k-kiss.”

He doesn’t say it like a question, but Bucky’s eyes are big and curious. Suddenly, there’s a lump in Steve’s throat and he has to blink several times to stop the burning sensation building in his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, he nods.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, Buck. We did.”

Bucky had recently began to regain some of his memories from before. It’s still slow going, but Steve can see him fighting so hard every day for the chance to remember something—anything from the years Hydra took from him. Most days it’s hard, leaving Bucky even more disoriented and confused than usual at best or screaming his throat raw for hours and hours at worst. And this is all on top of everything else he has to deal with.

He can’t talk much, his sentences short and decorated with a stutter that simply refuses to leave. He has tremors, trouble sleeping and eating, and is extremely paranoid. Steve still doesn’t know how he does it, but he swears that Bucky always has at least one or two knives on his person at all times. And, of course, there was also that time last week when Bucky suddenly had a seizure when they tried to watch a movie together. Despite everything he’s seen and done up till now, Steve had never been so scared in his entire life.

Thankfully, however, this memory recall seems to be anything but bad. Bucky’s eyes are clear and lucid. His posture is open and he looks calm, if not a bit timid. Still, Steve had somehow never braced himself for Bucky remembering...well. Them.

Clearing his throat, he tries his best to explain. “We, uh… We first started doing stuff like that when we were kids. It was nice for a while, but you ended up calling it off. There was some...unwanted attention and you didn’t want to put me at risk like that. Then, when the war came, we started it back up. Neither of us really talked about it. It just kind of happened. We never got around to giving what we had a name, though. We got close, but...” Steve pauses then, memories of the unforgiving cold and the sound of a train suddenly flashing through his mind. “...We got close.”

Bucky seems to consider this, his eyes focusing on the dresser just behind Steve. Both of them stay like that for a moment, memories of their past lives quietly replaying between them. The quiet is then broken when Bucky looks back at Steve.

“Can we… Can we kiss now?”

Steve lightly gasps at that, his heart skipping a beat or two. Despite how long it’s been since Steve took Bucky in, they haven’t done anything like that yet. It’d be their first kiss since the war.

Since the day Bucky fell.

Steve is unable to stop the tears from gathering in his eyes this time as he nods. “Yeah. Sure we can.”

Bucky nods, setting his jaw and becoming mission focused. Steve remains where he is, letting Bucky take the lead. Slowly, Bucky closes the gap between them. He reaches out, brushing his fingers along Steve’s forearm uncertainly. His eyes flicker up to meet Steve’s, as if asking for permission. Steve nods and takes Bucky’s hand into his own, rubbing gentle circles into the back of it. Soon enough, they’re so close that their chests are nearly touching. Steve’s breath quickens, matching the pounding of his heart. If it beat any harder, he was certain it would burst. Bucky’s breathing becomes faster as well and he almost seems like he’s going to change his mind about the whole thing, before he closes his eyes and meets Steve’s lips with his.

The kiss is slow and careful, Bucky’s lips barely brushing against Steve’s before he quickly pulls away. Steve remains still and silent, watching as a conflict flickers upon Bucky’s face. After a short moment, the light in Bucky’s eyes dims and his expression becomes vacant. Vaguely, Steve wonders if Bucky is going to lash out, but he immediately scolds himself for it. If the Soldier wants to make an appearance, Steve will handle it. But, until that happens, he’s going to put his trust in Bucky.

So, he patiently waits. Bucky continues to stare at him, his body as rigid as a statue, before he suddenly turns on his heel and goes straight to the window. Without a word, he opens it and crawls right out, leaving Steve standing in the middle of his bedroom alone. Unexpectedly, the sight of it brings forth another memory. 

Bucky had shown up one night while Steve’s ma was working, waking him up by knocking on his window from the fire escape. Once he’d turned on the light and let him inside, it didn’t take Steve long to realize that Bucky was drunk. It was a while before he got the story out of him, but Bucky finally told Steve that he got stood up by his date. So, his seventeen year old mind had told him the solution to his wounded feelings was to simply drink them away. At least, that was before he realized that his mother would kill him for coming home in such a state.

“Just until the morning, Stevie. Let me sleep this off and then I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Sure, Buck. But you’re drinking some water first.”

As Steve got him a glass, Bucky all but fell onto his bed and began to mumble things the blond couldn’t make out. By the time he’d returned to Bucky, he found him with his arm draped over his eyes, as if he was trying to block everything out. He gently nudged his arm with the glass.

“Here, ace. This’ll help.”

Instead of taking the water, however, Bucky just kept on mumbling his thoughts out loud. “I just don’t get it,” he slurred. “I try and I try and yet I can’t get it right. Can’t get nothin’ right. ‘M not good at this, Stevie. ‘M not good at any of this.”

Steve felt his lips form a line. He’d never heard Bucky talking about himself like that before. His friend had always seemed so confident and carefree. He was every Brooklyn girl’s dream guy, after all, and there was no mystery as to why that was. Bucky was kind, polite, and treated every girl he went out with like they were worth a million bucks. So, when Steve heard him say that he wasn’t good at any of it, it threw him for a bit of a loop.

“C’mon, Buck. Don’t talk like that. It’s just one bad date, that’s all.”

Steve then spared a moment to think how funny it was that he was the one giving dating advice. As if he had any idea what he was talking about. Oh, sure, he’d been on dates before, but none of them had ended well. For one thing, they were all double dates that Bucky had set up, so Steve always ended up being an unfortunate surprise to the second girl. He was a poor consolation prize in comparison to Bucky and everyone knew it. And then there was the fact that he hadn’t liked any of those girls himself. 

For, despite all of his attempts, Steve had always had eyes for one person in his life…

Steve’s thoughts were then interrupted by Bucky shaking his head fitfully. “Not jus’ one. None of ‘em were right. Felt so wrong, every single one.”

Now that was just crazy talk. Bucky always gushed to Steve about how well his dates went. The alcohol must’ve been getting to him more than Steve realized.

“I think you’re getting your thoughts mixed up, pal.”

But Bucky had simply shook his head again. “No, ‘m not. Those dames don’t compare…don’t compare to you.”

That was when Steve had immediately froze. For a moment, he’d been sure his heart had stopped. Of all the things he’d expected Bucky to say, that hadn’t been one of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but it felt like his tongue had been replaced with cotton.

“What?” He heard himself say.

Bucky then removed his arm from his eyes and stared at Steve. Despite the flush of his cheeks and his slurred speech, his eyes seemed clear and focused.

“Said none of em compare to you. You always…” Bucky then trailed off, seemingly losing his words. Instead, he slowly sat up and took one of Steve’s hands into his own. Steve said nothing and allowed it to happen.

“You always making me lose my damn mind,” Bucky finished, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of Steve’s hand all the while.

“You—“ Steve swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “You mean it?”

“Want me to prove it?”

Bucky’s voice had dropped a bit and Steve suddenly realized that his friend’s eyes were drifting down to his lips. Steve licked them and tried to remember how to breathe. Before he could chicken out, he’d simply nodded.

“Yeah.”

Then, like a dream, Bucky raised his hand and tenderly cupped the side of Steve’s face. Steve had felt his heart beating hard in his chest as it roared in his ears. His eyes kept flicking down to Bucky’s lips as they drew closer and closer. And then finally, wonderfully, they kissed.

In that moment, the stars could’ve fallen from the sky and shattered Brooklyn to bits and it wouldn’t have mattered. To Steve, that moment was more precious than anyone or anything else in the world, let alone the stars. It was gentle and sweet and his insides felt like warm honey. Bucky’s strong arms had moved to wrap around him fully and Steve had never felt more secure.

“Buck…” Steve gasped once they stopped to breathe.

Bucky was smiling so big he was nearly squinting, his cheeks dusted with a rosy color. “Wanted to do that for so long…” He laughed.

They kissed again and again, laughing and smiling all the while. It was like a little piece of heaven had been created, right there in Steve’s tiny bedroom. Although he’d never drank in his life, he figured this is what it must’ve felt like to get drunk. He’d have to ask Bucky when he sobered up, he vaguely thought.

The glorious moment was then shattered by the sound of the front door being unlocked. Steve’s heart had instantly plummeted to his stomach. 

His ma. 

Whipping his head back to Bucky, he saw his own panic mirrored on his face. Immediately, the two had scrambled away from each other. Bucky then made a beeline for the window and, without sparing a glance back towards Steve, crawled right out onto the fire escape. Steve managed to shut it just as his ma walked in.

“Steven?” She called softly, surely noticing that his light was still on. “You still awake, love?”

Desperately trying his best to seem as normal as possible, Steve had stepped out into the living room to greet her. She looked tired, like she always did at the end of a long shift, but she didn’t seem to notice anything different about him. Instead, she closed the distance between them and, after brushing his hair away from his face, gave him a kiss on his forehead in greeting, just like always.

“What are you doing up? Are you feeling alright?” She asked gently, placing the back of her hand on both cheeks.

“I’m fine, ma. Just couldn’t sleep, is all.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

She then gave him one of her signature looks. The one that lovingly said ‘what am I going to do with you?’ “You better try,” she said. “It’s late. I don’t want you to get sick again.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the opportunity to slip away.

As he laid awake in bed that night, Steve kept replaying that moment he and Bucky had shared over and over again in his mind. Part of him vaguely wondered if it had been a dream. It certainly felt like a dream, one that had been plucked from his own mind and given life. He tentatively ran his fingertips over his lips, still tasting the remnants of alcohol and Bucky on them. No, it certainly hadn’t been a dream.

Before he finally drifted off, Steve suddenly couldn’t help but chuckle. Confident and carefree Bucky Barnes must’ve been really spooked to have escaped out Steve’s window the way he did. He should’ve known better than anyone that, after all these years, Steve’s ma wouldn’t have suspected a thing about him being over that late.

The memory is what probably stops Steve from feeling rejected or upset at Bucky’s sudden departure. If anything, it does the opposite. His face is warm and he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.

After that night so many years ago, it had taken Bucky a day or two to show his face to Steve again. As Steve had suspected, he’d been so embarrassed that his ma had walked in, but he’d also been scared. He said that he’d been worried their kiss would turn out to be nothing but a figment of his drunken mind.

Now, Bucky has a lot more to worry about than having one too many drinks when it comes to memory displacement. He’s not sure when Bucky will return, but he’s certain that he will. So, Steve decides to wait for him.

It turns out he doesn’t have to wait very long.

Bucky returns that very night, crawling through the same window he left through and just as silent. The sight of him makes Steve immediately put away the book he was reading.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets, sitting up.

Bucky says nothing, but gives a small nod.

“You feeling okay?”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave like that.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I understand.”

Bucky nods again and silence befalls the pair once more. A short moment passes before Steve shuffles a bit so that there’s room on the bed beside him. He gently pats the space, inviting Bucky to sit with him. For a bit it seems like Bucky is going to decline, but then he wordlessly walks over to the bed and joins him. They sit together for a few minutes, the silence still present, but companionable.

“Was it...okay?” Bucky whispers.

“Yes,” Steve answers quickly. “It was definitely okay. Did you like it? How did it make you feel?”

“M-M-Made me feel...good. I liked it.”

Steve swells with warmth at that and he feels his smile creeping back upon his lips. “That’s great, Buck.” He pauses before continuing. “But you know you don’t have to push yourself just for my sake. I’m okay with taking things slow.”

Bucky inhales and exhales softly. “I know. Just… Want to remember. Want to f-f-f-feel good again.”

“I know,” Steve says, feeling so unbearably fond. “And you will.”

“Promise?” Bucky whispers and Steve is surprised to feel his fingers lightly brush against his.

He smiles fully then and gently interlocks his pinky with Bucky’s. Bucky looks down at them, looking a little surprised. He doesn’t pull away though, instead looking up at Steve with that curious flicker in his eyes. There’s something else in his eyes too and, with a sense of joy, Steve realizes it’s love. Tentative and small, but there.

“I promise,” Steve whispers back.

[fake-mouthstatic]

expose

@118dailydrabble, day 48. bucktommy, rated G.

🔥

"Hey," Tommy says when Evan enters the kitchen, smiling until he notices how miserable he looks. "You okay?"

Evan steps into his space, wrapping his arms around him and clinging like a limpet.

"Rough shift?"

Evan huffs a laugh, pulling away just enough to hand Tommy his phone.

Tommy frowns as he sees the title of the video on the screen.

'Hot firefighter exposes himself on call… 👀'

"Oh no."

"Oh yeah," Evan replies, sounding dejected. "My pants split when I bent for the stretcher."

"Oh babe, I'm sorry," Tommy says, trying not to laugh.

"How can I go into work after this?"

"I mean…" Tommy says, smirking, "at least they called you hot?"

Evan groans.

"Yeah, not helping."

read the others here

[jadewritesficshere]

Pretty

Eddie Munson x reader

Contains: no plot just filth, sub!Eddie Munson, bound hands, edging, slight overstim, cumplay, ass play, aftercare, pet names (Eddie is called Baby), no gender descriptors for reader (your thighs are mentioned but not size or shape just that Eddie finds them beautiful)

This is unedited I wrote this in a blur idk how many words maybe 1k ill add that at a later time

18+ only!

"You look so pretty like this."

Eddie shudders as he feels your breath against the back of his neck. He looks ahead into the mirror, pupils blown wide at the scene before him.

You sit behind Eddie. A saccharine grin on your face. His back is flush with your front, he can feel every inhale and exhale you take. Your beautiful thighs he wants to bite are on either side of his. Your ankles are locked around his, holding him in place. Eddie's hands are bound with his belt, resting on your thigh.

Eddie's shirt is pushed up, belly button piercing glinting in the low light. The red of his piercing matches the red on his face that runs down his neck. If he had his shirt off, you'd be able to see the blush bleed into the top of his chest. He shivers as you blow against his ear.

"Look how pretty you are Eds."

He lets out a whine as your fingers delicately trail his length. His cock is flushed a deep red, almost purple at the top from how turned on he is. Slightly curved to the left, the tip leaking so much cum he's practically glistening. Your fingers ghost over the slit and his hips jump forward, only for your touch to leave. Teasing him again.

It was torture of the best kind. He isn't sure how long you have been teasing him. Tears in his eyes from pleasure and annoyance. Your hand wrapped firmly around him bringing him to the precipice only to let go before he reaches the edge. Tantalizing touches that sway the line of not enough and too much.

"Say you look pretty Baby."

He gasps as your hand wraps firmly around him again, hoping you won't remove your hand again. His nails dig into your thigh, trying to grab hold of anything he can. He can feel your smirk as you press a kiss to where his shoulder meets his neck. "I uh I look pretty," Eddie's voice is raspy.

"The prettiest boy." You murmur. "The fuck the prettiest boy." Eddie whimpers. A tear rolls down his cheek and he watches as you swipe it away. "Color?" You pause. "Green so green please don't stop," Eddie babbles slightly, turning to face you. You smile sweetly as your hand forces his jaw back to facing the mirror.

With your ankles locked around Eddie's, you spread your legs, thus causing his to spread wide open. Its obscene, being fully on display. "Awh," you coo at him, making him whine. Eddie shivers as you slide your hand up and down his shaft, your other hand gently squeezing his heavy balls.

Eddie jumps as you trail your fingers lower. You lightly press against his hole, just enough for him to feel it. It takes him a minute to realize the moan he hears was from himself. His cock leaks another spurt of precum, dribbling down your hand as you continue to jerk him off.

You remove the pressure teasing his hole and swipe up the cum that has leaked onto your hand. You coat your finger with it before pressing against Eddie's tight hole again. Your gently slide your finger in.

Eddie can feel his eyes crossing as his mouth drops open. He can feel you pump your finger in and out of him in tandem with the hand that is stroking him up and down. "Gonna come for me? You look so good baby. Look so perfect like this," you kiss the shell of his ear. Eddie nods, barely able to open his eyes. Barely able to think of anything as he feels the warm pleasure spreading throughout his limbs.

His hips snap up as a loud whine leaves him. His brain goes silent as pleasure comes over him in waves. You never falter your pace, its almost too much as he keeps cumming. It's the hardest and longest he has ever come, it almost knocks the breath out of him. His senses hone in on the euphoria he feels, numbing his mind to everything but the pleasure.

He pants and gasps as he slowly comes back to himself. He's barely aware he's holding onto your thigh with a death grip. "Did so good baby, so good." You murmur. "Uh-huh." Eddie can feel his heart beating in his chest. His limbs feel like jello. He's pretty sure if he tried to stand his legs would shake.

You slowly move out from behind him (wait when did you stop touching him?). Eddie opens his eyes, tracking you as you grab a water bottle and wash cloth on the bedside table. You wet the wash cloth before wiping the cum off him. Eddie tries not to but jumps from still being sensitive. You murmur apologies, as if you have anything to apologize for. If Eddie's tongue didn't feel of lead, he would sing your praises.

You toss the wash cloth away and quickly undo the belt around Eddie's wrists. Even though there isn't a mark, you take your time massaging his wrists and hands. You gently place a kiss on the back of both of his hands. If he wasn't already completely in love with you, that would have done it.

Eddie can barely focus on your words, barely think through how good he feels. He's aware you are holding the water bottle up to his lips and he drinks greedily. You swipe away the water that dribbles down his chin.

Eddie curls into you, head against your chest listening to your heart. You slowly stroke his hair, comforting him. He's aware you're whispering to him, praising him. All he can think about is how loved he feels in this moment. How safe he is in your arms. How he can fully let go and know you have him. How he knows you love him with your whole being, just as he loves you.

[diathadevil]

Day 3 - Tie

He's feeling a lil' bit warm, ya know?

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

Trick or treat! How would Pep and the others celebrate Halloween?

(Most of the tower's previous residents don't know what Halloween is, so they can't really answer the question lkfgld)

[just-a-simpel-narrator]

@puffywuffy8904 DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY STEFAN??

To which I definitely did not take an entire week to respond nooooo

[janetbrown711]

Melatonin

Louie can't sleep after an adventure gone wrong, his mother's words echoing in his head like the worst worst record, and so he seeks solace with his dear old Uncle Donald.

Ao3 Link

Louie was tired, which wasn’t surprising for 2:17 in the morning. It had also been a long, long day of adventuring and he had been grateful when he finally was able to throw himself on his bunk bed.

Unfortunately though, Louie couldn’t sleep.

His back and legs ached something fierce from all of the above-average amounts of running and walking and climbing he had to do, and there was this weight on his chest that caused his heart to pound, keeping his eyes and mind on alert.

Insomnia was nothing new for the youngest duck brother, of course, but that didn’t make it any less annoying (especially with Dewey’s tendency to snore). He’d normally just go on his phone and scroll through social media until his eyes decided to close, but it didn’t feel right tonight. No, his feed was too full of Webby and Dewey’s photos of their adventure. Photos of Scrooge, Huey, and Della were on every post, with Louie having to swipe through to find any with him in them.

That wasn’t their fault though, Louie really hadn’t been in the mood today for hiking mountains and fighting bears and bear-like monsters to find some mystic honey stirrer. The photos of him were blurry and embarrassing, unlike the usual where he’d at least pose with the treasure or he and Webby had some kind of fun side quest.

A chill ran through Louie that made him sit up and sigh, rubbing the bandages around one of his hands as he tried to think of what to do.

He could go to the kitchen and if Duckworth wasn’t too busy ghost-sleeping, he could make him some tea..? No, no, Louie hated tea more than Scrooge hated to waste it. Something else then… like watching YouTube? No, his feed was overrun with videos about Doofus Drake and Scrooge McDuck sightings and hustler videos that Louie really didn’t have an interest in (at least… not right now). He could try counting sheep, but– but there was something else on his mind playing on repeat instead.

“C’mon Louie, it’s just one more mile, don’t get lazy on me now.” His mother smiled at him, hands on her hips and a bouncy energy that just made him even more tired by the second.

“Yeah, Louie! C’mon, it’ll be totally cool to see the top of the mountain,” Huey encouraged too.

“If I don’t die before then,” Louie panted, leaning back against a tree.

Della tsked and rolled her eyes. “You sound just like your uncle, you know that?”

Louie perked up at that, but before he could say anything, Dewey punched him in the arm as he and Webby sped by.

“See ya later, slowpokes!” he called out mockingly as Webby made a face.

“Hey! We’re supposed to be on the lookout for bears, you two!” Della laughed and hurried to go join them.

“Hey–! Wait for us!” Huey shouted and started scurrying off too, and Louie had no choice but to follow.

…Louie didn’t know why his mind was focusing on it– it wasn’t a big deal, really. They all made it eventually, even if Louie missed the “big reveal” and family photo op. They had hundreds of those, Louie being gone from one or two or however many at this point wasn’t a big deal. He was the lazy one, after all. Consequences, simple as that.

“If you want to be part of this family, you got to–”

Louie shot up and out of bed, startled by his own memory as the pounding in his chest only increased.

“It’s just a stupid memory, Louie. Just shut up and go back to sleep,” he muttered to himself before checking if he’d awoken his brothers. Thankfully, the answer was no, so Louie was left to… well, as much as he wanted to, he was in no condition to go back to bed. He was still stuck in “fight or flight” mode, so he needed to walk around– maybe to find some melatonin.

As good as that sounded though, he knew the numerous bathrooms barely even had toilet paper, much less medications due to how stingy Scrooge was. If there was melatonin to be found, it probably expired in 1986 and probably had a nightmare shadow creature trapped inside for extra measure.

Then again, Uncle Donald always kept his melatonin and other vitamins stocked, so maybe Louie could just go to the houseboat to check? Hopefully he could do so without waking his uncle, but if he caught him, it wasn’t like he’d get in trouble.

Louie bit his cheek, finding his phone and unplugging it to check the time, annoyed but not surprised it had only been two minutes. With a sigh, Louie put his phone in his pajama pocket, and quietly crept out of his room into the halls of the manor.

Nights like these always made the mansion feel haunted– more than by Duckworth, anyways. His uncle was crazy old and so was his choice in curtains and decoration. While Duckworth and Beakley kept dust away, the moonlight had this uncanny way of pointing out every crack and crevice that was previously unknown. Plus, the quiet made the creaking wood and pipes a lot more noticeable, and with Louie, being in the state that he was, picked up the pace to avoid it as much as possible.

Thankfully, the courtyard wasn’t too hard to get to and soon, Louie was back sneaking his way on the houseboat like it was nothing.

While it took a second to get used to, the familiar sway and creaking of the houseboat was comforting for the young duck, and he couldn’t help but smile as he made his way to the bathroom’s medicine cabinet for raiding.

In there, he found a half empty bottle of aspirin, a thing of tums, an empty paper cup, some mouthwash, but no sign of any melatonin.

“Well… frick,” Louie muttered to himself, closing the mirror and nearly jumping out of his skin when he heard footsteps just outside.

“Hello?” called out the tired and scratchy voice of Louie’s uncle.

Busted.

“Sorry, Uncle Dee, I was just looking for some melatonin to nab.” Louie’s face was red as he flicked the light off and stepped out to the small hallway.

His uncle smiled pitifully at him. “Can’t sleep?”

Louie shook his head.

“I keep that in my room now since you three moved out.” Donald chuckled. “I can grab it for you, and I can make some tea too, if you’d like.”

Louie bit his cheek. It was getting late, but as much as Louie wanted to just take the melatonin and hope his feelings would just drown out, he couldn’t deny having a cup of sleepytime tea with his uncle would help.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Louie gave a crooked little smile, which made his uncle chuckle again and ruffle his hair before going to the kitchen. Louie followed, sliding into the circular booth and watching as his uncle pulled out the dented old kettle and filled it with water.

“Have you gotten any sleep at all?” his uncle asked, watching it fill.

Louie shook his head. “No, not really… I’m more surprised you’re awake though, I really thought it would be an easy in-and-out.”

“You’d be surprised how raising triplets and being ex-navy can affect how light you sleep.” His uncle winked and turned the water off.

Louie snorted. “I think Mom could sleep through a bombing.”

“Yeah, that’s Della all right.” Donald’s voice wavered a bit, though he quickly turned to muttering in frustration as it took a second before his stove would light. It eventually did, and once that was all settled he sighed and leaned against the counter. “So what’s keeping you up this time, Lou?”

“Oh, you know… adventure stuff, I guess,” Louie danced around the details, picking at the bandage on his hand.

His uncle���s eyes landed on it, and based on his reaction, it seemed he hadn’t noticed his injury at dinner. “Are you okay? What happened? Did Huey or Webby do the bandaging? Or was it Dewey? Not that he does a bad job, he just always forgets the Neosporin–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Uncle Dee– really,” Louie forced a smile. “It’s just a minor scrape, I promise.”

“You know, I’ve always told Scrooge you boys need better gloves and gear just so situations like this don’t happen.” Donald shook his head and left the kitchen, muttering under his breath the whole time.

Welp. Better than a scolding to stay safer, Louie thought to himself as he closed his eyes for a second.

When he opened them again, his uncle was back with a first aid kit and a bottle of melatonin.

“Here, let me look at it,” Donald asked, taking a seat next to Louie.

“It’s fine, Uncle Donald,” Louie tried to assure him, but his uncle didn’t relent, taking his hand and quickly unwrapping the bandage.

His uncle frowned, inspecting it. “This doesn’t look like a regular scrape. What happened?”

“It was just a sharp rock, I swear.” Louie looked away to try and mask the lie.

Donald didn’t seem to believe it, but focused his efforts more on adding some neosporin to his cut before finding a suitable gauze pad, bringing Louie momentarily relief.

“Who wrapped this the first time? And how long was it between hurting yourself and getting bandaged?” Donald interrogated.

“Dewey when we got back to the plane, I guess– it’s really not a big deal, Uncle Donald, I’m fine,” Louie tried to push, but he could see Donald’s eye twitch.

“No one had a first aid kit? Not even Huey?” Donald asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“He ran out using it on Webby and Dewey and Launchpad.” Louie shrugged. “Seemed only fair to let them have it this time anyways, since I’m usually the one taking all the supplies.”

Donald frowned, now taking the roller bandage and wrapping his wrist twice before going diagonally to the outside of his pinky. “I don’t like you thinking like that; your safety and health matters just as much as anyone else’s– even if you’ve got worse luck and tire out quicker.”

“Sure,” Louie sighed, looking at the kettle and seeing the steam starting to escape, a squeal imminent.

“I’m serious, Louie. I don’t want you talking like that. You deserve as much love and care as anyone else.” His uncle looked at him seriously, but the ten-year-old avoided eye contact.

Donald frowned, finishing the bandaging just as the kettle began to squeal and put a brief pause to go deal with that.

“If you want a place in this family–”

Stop. Just stop, Louie hissed in his mind. He hated that stupid video and that stupid memory. It was so long ago, there really wasn’t a point for it to be on repeat like it was. Yeah, his mom joked that if he hadn’t been so clumsy on the last adventure then Huey wouldn’t have ran out of bandages, but like… that was different. Louie was fine. It was fine. It was cool.

“So are you going to actually tell me how you hurt yourself, or are you going to keep me guessing all night?” Donald sighed, pouring the hot water into two mugs.

“It was a sharp rock, I promise.” Louie bit his cheek.

“Right.” His uncle’s shoulders sagged, before he shook his head and set the kettle down. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Adventures are hard sometimes, I get it– plus, I know I can be a little protective–”

Louie laughed.

Donald rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe more than a little protective, but you know… someone’s gotta.”

Louie’s smile faded and his eyes went back to his hands.

His uncle hummed in amusement as he got the tea bags and began brewing before returning with mugs in hand to the booth. “I’m sorry today was rough. I wish I could’ve been there.”

Louie waved his hand. “You would’ve gotten hurt a lot more than me.”

“Yeah, but at least Della knows to carry three extra kits whenever I’m around,” Donald laughed, and a lump formed in Louie’s throat.

“Right, yeah.” Louie tried to ignore it, tapping his fingers on the glass as he urged the tea to brew faster.

When it was done, he could feel his uncle's eyes on him as he took a sip of tea, searching and scanning like they had many times before. It was how he eventually learned to detect Louie's schemes, and it never failed to make Louie feel small.

To his surprise though, instead of saying anything, Donald wrapped an arm around Louie and pulled him to his side, kissing his head and hugging him tight. It made the lump tighten and tears threaten to form, the pressure building so tight Louie might just burst.

“I love you, Louie. You know that?” his uncle whispered.

Louie could only nod.

“I love you very, very much, Lou. I care about your health and safety, and I want you to be happy more than anything else in the whole wide world, do you understand?” Donald continued.

Louie nodded again, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

His uncle hugged him tighter. “Louie, I want you to tell me what’s hurting you. You don’t have to give details– but know that nothing is too much for me, okay? I want to help you… please…”

The ‘please’ shattered Louie’s resolve. He opened his mouth to speak maybe three times, before he eventually croaked it out:

“Why… doesn’t mom… like me..?”

Donald let out a quiet gasp, filling Louie with instant regret that broke him down into a sobbing mess in an instant.

“Oh, Louie.” His uncle pulled Louie onto his lap now, hugging him tight as he rocked back and forth while the ten-year-old just buried his face in his chest.

“S-sh-she– It-it’s like– She likes H-Huey, a-and Dewey, a-and even Webby– b-but– b-but–”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Donald hugged him a little tighter, and Louie could tell he was crying too.

“I-I keep screwing u-up– a-and it’s like– i-it’s like she ca-can’t even tell a-and she just– she hates me, Unca’ Donald, she hates me,” Louie wept.

“Della doesn’t hate you, Louie, she just doesn’t understand, I promise,” Donald tried to assure, but Louie just shook his head.

“Sh-she keeps– she keeps calling me lazy a-and she makes fun of me wh-when I fail a-and even get hurt– it hurts so much, Unca’ Donald, it hurts so much,” Louie confessed, a wave of sorrow crashing down with the realization.

“I’m so sorry, Lou…” his uncle’s voice cracked. “I wish she didn’t. I really, really wish she didn’t– but old habits die hard, I’m so sorry.”

It took Louie a moment to process what his uncle said, and when he did, he sat up a bit. “Y-you mean she does that to you too?”

Donald nodded with a sad smile. “Everyone does, but Del and Scrooge especially. I used to joke that’s the only reason they kept me around.”

Louie’s heart managed to break a second time and he practically leapt to hug his uncle. “M’so sorry, I-I never meant to– I just– I’m so sorry, Uncle Donald.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Lou. I’ve learned to accept it.” Donald rubbed his back.

“But you shouldn’t have to! I-it sucks– I hate being just a joke to them, a-and you’re so much more than that too!” Louie broke the embrace again.

“Louie, you aren’t a joke to them, I promise. You have that wonderful mind of yours that’s always so good at planning and scheming and escaping and they value that tremendously.” Donald put his hands on Louie’s shoulders.

Louie looked at the ground. “Even mom..?”

Donald gave a long sigh. “Your mom is… new to this. She doesn’t understand how you work yet and assumes you won’t take it personally, like how I would act– but that doesn’t make it right. She loves you, but she just doesn’t know how to, and I’m sorry that hurts you…”

Louie looked away, his mom’s words echoing again in his mind.

“If you want to be a part of this family, you gotta stop.”

“She… she said if I wanted to be a part of this family, I had to stop scheming– had to stop the one thing I’m good at,” Louie whispered.

He could see his uncle’s shoulders tense. “When did she say that..?”

“When you were gone after the ‘timephoon incident’.” Louie sniffled, wiping away hot tears as he stared at his mug.

Donald gave another long, heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Louie. I wish she understood you, I really, really do…”

“Sh-she also– I hurt my hand because she didn’t see me slipping. She didn’t help me– sh-she assumed I’d be okay, but I’m not okay– it’s not okay, Uncle Donald, it’s not.” Louie shook his head and curled up to Donald’s side, and his uncle wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m so sorry, Lou. Della just gets so wrapped up in her own head, she has a hard time recognizing people aren’t always at her level.” Donald rested his head atop Louie’s and squeezed him.

“I-I felt so alone today– I hate feeling alone,” Louie confessed more.

“I know, Louie, I know. And if it helps, you’ll always have me no matter what, okay? There’s nothing you could do to make me hate or leave you. You’ll always be my little Louie, and even if we get separated, I’ll always find my way back– even if it’s the moon,” Donald pointed out with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Uncle Donald.” Louie nuzzled closer. “I wish mom understood you too.”

His uncle laughed weakly. “Maybe one day… but in the meantime, I’m lucky to have you.”

Louie couldn’t help but laugh a little too. “I’m lucky to have you too, Uncle Donald.”

The pair of them sat in silence for a while, with Louie curled extra tight to his side and Donald holding him nice and close. It was calming, especially with the slow eb and flow of the pool water. All that crying had exhausted Louie, and he figured his uncle likely felt the same. However, Louie couldn’t even imagine going back to his bunk now, not when he felt his uncle needed him as much as he needed Donald.

“I’ll try and talk to her. It’ll be slow and I don’t know how she’ll take it, but I’ll talk to her,” Donald suddenly spoke up. “Uncle Scrooge too, for that matter.”

Louie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t gotta do that, it probably won’t change anything.”

“I have to try, Lou.” Donald looked down at him. “You’re worth at least trying.”

Louie didn’t have a response for that, so he just nuzzled back close and there was quiet again.

Louie liked the quiet. It was much better than the eerie silence of the manor, and how it would always be broken abruptly by some creaking wood or wind whirling down the chimney. On the houseboat, the sounds were constant, like a lullaby. The splashing of the water, the squeaking old metal, the soft hum of the old AC unit– it always knew how to put Louie to sleep.

“Uncle Donald?” he suddenly spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… stay here with you tonight?” Louie glanced back up at him.

Donald’s face melted into a soft smile. “Of course, Lou. You’re welcome here any time.”

“Good.” Louie smiled too, before yawning.

His uncle chuckled before yawning himself. “Looks like we should get going to bed, huh?”

“I could stay up longer,” Louie lied, making his uncle roll his eyes.

“Drink some tea before you take that melatonin, I don’t want it going to waste,” Donald lightly teased before getting up and drinking more of his own.

Louie nodded, beginning to chug before he remembered he really wasn’t that big of a fan of tea, and so set it down again. “Is… that enough?” Louie asked.

Donald laughed. “Yes, yes, it’s fine, I’m just joking, no need to force yourself.”

Louie smiled before struggling to open the bottle of melatonin. Noticing this, his uncle walked over and helped him retrieve the yellow pill, which Louie took with a little bit of tea. After that was done, Donald cleaned up their mugs and set them out to dry. Once that was settled, Louie took Donald’s hand and the two of them went to cuddle the rest of the night away.

[yusuke-of-valla]

Ok not gonna reblog the post I responded to because like no one needs that in their life whatever.

But what the HELL polygon this is a A TERRIBLE headline

First of all the gayest thing that has happened in the first like based on what I have complete I think is arounf the first third of the game? Is that Aphrodite mentioned setting two women up in a qpr

Because the game ISN'T ABOUT ROMANCE it's about BURNOUT

Like the gods have lost their memories and along with them their passion for doing their jobs and cut themselves off from their friends and while I stand by my point and being like. The most obvious theme in four hours of playing it should. Probably be in the headline? Especially since that makes it sound more interesting

The Greek Gods have depression help them while running around a gorgeous island with a soothing art style and feeding birds and a very chill soundtrack is just. A way better preview/review sell especially if people are only gonna read the headlines WHICH THEY ARE and how I saw this in the first place

[technicianuprisingau]

Cast Introduction: Meta Knight

"You must understand the importance of your duties, regardless of where you stand. Lack of discipline is the reason many men fall in this battlefield. Thus... have at thee."

Basic Info

Name: Meta Alecta Age: 43 [by the start of Planet Robobot] Gender: Male | he/him Orientation: Asexual Birth Date: May 1, 2970 Place of Birth: [REDACTED] Hometown: [REDACTED] Current Residence: Star Harbor, Orange Ocean, Dreamland, Cookie Country, Popstar Species: Puffball [Muddled] Job: Member of the Galactic Soldier Army's Star Warriors Division, Other names/titles: Meta Knight, The Lone Swordsman, Batman [Galacta] Alignment: Lawful Neutral (leaning Good) Affiliation: Dreamland, Galactic Soldier Army, Team Starstruck, Dreamland Protection Brigade/Meta-Knights

Personality

There is something about Meta Knight that is strangely mysterious, yet alluring. It can be a bit difficult to see beyond his surface personality: a lone wolf who protects others in his own way, much to the benefit and detriment of many. But apparently, just like anyone in this world really, there is always more than that. A hardened-by-war soldier, Meta's not the nicest guy around, usually reserved and moreso keeps distance - unless he has found enough information or it is necessary, he won't include himself in social interactions. He is experienced, proper, and commonly the sane man of any group he goes with, a proper leader to his men when he has to be. And he will protect the people he has sworn to protect - his friends and students, included. Unfortunately, he can be rather stubborn. Meta likes doing things his way, or at least the ways he was taught by his organization. He is not as flexible as his fighting style when it comes to people. Thus, he ends up looking harsh and  to some, even abrasive at times. But many times, they come from a place of care, as much as he denies it - he wants to ensure everyone is always prepared, not wanting them to make the same mistakes he had, because well… It's sink or swim in this world, as he himself experienced. This comes with a few fatalist weak spots, resulting in others calling out his methods… but he is slowly improving overtime.  It may be hard to read his emotions nowadays - wearing contact lenses to not show your true eye colors does that - but that's the way it is for him. There is no rest for the wicked. He wouldn't rest until his last breath.

Relationships

Kirby

Status: student Ah, his first, and supposedly only student… if Team Starstruck didn't fall to his hands too. Let's make it clear: he initially taught Kirby because, well, he is the only Star Warrior Division member in the area, and since Kirby has been registered as one, well… he ended up being responsible for him. But as time went by, he just accepted it wholeheartedly. Even if he won't admit it publicly.  Despite his harsh self, his overtime experience with Kirby and Dreamland in general had softened him. It wasn't much, but at least he wouldn't resort to making a fake invasion to train the populace. Meta Knight ensures Kirby can be strong enough to defend himself - which, he is now, but you couldn't be too sure nowadays - while Kirby ensures Meta Knight wouldn't fall too deep into his worst qualities. Fair trade, really. Though deep inside, Meta fears that Kirby would one day be the same as he is: a shell of his former self, hardened by war and the loss of comrades. So he is determined, even behind the scenes, to ensure this won't happen again… Sure, Meta Knight might not be Kirby’s true father. But people may as well consider him to be such, much to his dismay. But oh well. The price he must pay. 

Bandana Dee

Status: student Honestly, Meta never thought of taking Bandana in, but Team Starstruck is a whole ass package, and thus, he had to take them all together. At least Bandee is very agreeable, but about Robobot… We'll get to that later, but understand that this waddle dee makes Meta sigh in relief that at least one member is not as crazy as he thinks, being less likely to break rules and everything. One thing that Meta Knight tries to avert with Bandana is his, uh, lack of self-esteem. Despite his lack of magic or special capabilities compared to his team, the knight sees how the waddle dee is a vital part of the team, and advises him to understand that and continue despite all the setbacks against him - especially that the guy is probably the best model student anyone would have, really, much to Bandee’s surprise. He wants to see more of that quality. There is a lot of things that the waddle dee can do after all... and Meta wants to make it clear that Bandee just needs to realize that. Otherwise, their relations are strong, and as far as he knows, Bandee is always welcome to train with him. Always.

Robobot Armor

Status: student It's honestly no surprise that these two don't get along too well... Poor Meta, forced to try and wrangle this rebellious student with a lack of respect to anyone. In a weird irony, the only reason these two were 'close' was because... Kirby. Of course he is the reason. It's not a surprise Robobot got angry at Meta for... really, leaving Kirby alone in the middle of the war battleground, but what choice do he really have? Meta felt how improper Robobot is in general, just the type of rebellious idiot who will get themselves killed quickly. It's like taking Kirby's worst qualities to eleven, at times. But in all seriousness... What they felt Robobot needed to learn was humbleness. It's their temper and lack of thinking that basically shot the mechanical suit in the knees - it's frustrating watching this guy not wanting to listen to others except if Kirby and Bandee asked them to. He does, however, admit that their instincts to act will help them. He is still willing to help the guy hone their abilities to be a better protector. It's a difficult process, but really, with the people of Dreamland, what's easy?

King Dedede

Status: friend Initially, let's just say Meta Knight wasn't the biggest fan of the king. The two weren't that close anyway, especially when the knight’s warnings that Nightmare was only using him to kill Kirby fell on deaf ears. But as things went, these two had built quite the strong trust between each other. It probably helps that the two were the adults around these ‘future heroes’ or whatever. Meta has always been the straight man to Dedede, reminding him that his self-appointed king status means he has to remember his duties. Dedede on the other hand, just like he would with the kids, teaches Meta how to have fun… with predictably mixed results. Despite this, the two can agree on a lot of things quite easily, especially on keeping their citizens safe - they both made it their goal to not stray from this duty, and pretty much had each other's back. People started calling them The Sworn Partners because of this. In fact, many say they sometimes act like a married couple, and even start asking when they'll get married… to their chagrin. Seriously. Knock it off, people.

Galacta Knight

Status: acquaintance, rival (one-sided on Galacta's part lol) As if his students weren't enough of a trainwreck, here comes his self-proclaimed rival… seriously, poor Meta, he felt like being surrounded by idiots. To be fair, this one was his fault - he wished to the Galactic Nova to give him the Strongest Warrior in the Galaxy to fight, and somehow that results in an old ass guy from nowhere to be unsealed and going after him for some revenge regarding his family that he doesn't even know or care about? Anyways. Galacta might have had some beef with Meta's family in the past, but thanks to time displacement, he decided to give Meta a free pass. Doesn't mean, however, that he won't bother him, much to the Galaxia wielder's annoyance. Meta sees him as pathetic at times, probably he didn't believe that this guy, who prefers to lazily watch things or treasure hunting or visit random people for fun, is considered one of the strongest people ever in existence… but the two, at least, maintain a somewhat okay relationship overall. Meta wishes Galacta wouldn't be much of a lazy guy, though. But at least, they both can agree on one thing: they'll keep a close eye on Kirby. But for what reason Galacta does it? That's what he still doesn't know.

Battle Data

Basics

Magic: light magic, heat magic, positivity magic (unmastered, only a bit) Weapon: Galaxia Other Equipments: Dimensional Cape Copy Ability Classification: Wing + Sword

Battle Style Analysis

Meta Knight is a very experienced swordsman. Due to his rough training in the GSA, he has learned several techniques, and the things he brings, including the Galaxia and his Dimensional Cape, helps him to combat efficiently. His speed is also amazing, able to outrun a lot of combatants, which he combines with his swordfighting to dispatch opponents much faster - fast and accurate is a good way to describe what he can do. It doesn't help that he can fly too. Apparently, he also knows some types of magic and while he usually doesn't use it in fair fights, if he has to, he WILL use them, especially in decisive battles. Strengths: has great understanding of copy abilities and magic, high stamina, high speed, great in short and medium range Weaknesses: can actually be outlasted, might struggle with attacks with massive range or area of effect, has to consistently avoid mistakes to close off openings

Backstory

The history of the Alecta family has always been… difficult. There are many branches of said family, each with differing resources of income, societal statuses, and family lineages. And it didn't help that there are only a few pureblood members of that family left… all with various reasons of their own. Meta Alecta was born in the seemingly luckier branch of the family. His parents were aristocrats with some of the biggest riches, and because of this they are relatively safe from the ongoing Nightmare War. Unfortunately, his life there wasn't exactly the happiest, with his parents usually abandoning him to his own whims for business ventures and all, keeping him cooped inside a luxurious mansion protected by guards. Meta is left as a rich kid, with all the knowledge and entertainment he could buy, yet lonely and starved for interaction - he imagines himself being able to explore the world and enjoy the company of others. And enamoured by this, he decided to take things into his own hands, escaping from home at the age of 12. Problem was, as smart and crafty the kid is, he was still young and new to the world after all, and he didn't really prepare himself for the long haul. Eventually, he was left on the streets for a few days until one day, a member of the Star Warriors Division found him lying hapless on the ground. The member took Meta to the nearest base and he was nursed back to health there. There was a bit of whiplash seeing what the soldiers there ate, but the puffball was amazed with the people there, with how many people were friendly towards each other and how they regard the base as their home. As shabby as it may be compared to the mansion, this felt more like home… and after hearing what the people do in that place, he immediately made it his mission to stay there as long as he could. The GSA tried their best to find Meta’s parents, but was unable to. It didn't help that Meta had made a few white lies about his origins - he did say he was an abandoned kid, but never told anyone about his family's true lineage. After what felt like months of searching, in the end, he was admitted as a child in that organization… and those early years became the happiest he was ever be. Growing up surrounded by other warriors, he chose to fully induct himself into the Star Warriors Division once he was of age, hoping to be as great as they were in his eyes. But before he could do so, his parents made a comeback to his life. Turns out, they had finally realized their son was missing, and upon finding out that he was with the GSA, they ended up doing all sorts of attempts to get him back, including even bribing him and the organization with money. However, Meta remains unfettered, and constantly said that he would rather stay than return to the luxurious and empty life his parents had subjected him to. In the end, his parents seemingly gave up, and left him with the organization. Meta finally became a cadet once he reached the tender age of 17. From here, Meta met Garlude Lightblade and Jecra Acacius, who later became his two best friends, and formed Team Three Swords. Under the mentorship of Focaccia Rustica, the trio became a bit of a notorious team, for their successful mission records. Meta had the greatest life he never thought he could've gotten if he didn't escape his rotten family, and is very much content with it. Eventually his team all reached the Master rank, with him and Jecra being knighted together, and he entered the Sacred Trials, granting him the Master Sword upon his success. And soon enough, Jecra got a family, so did Garlude - whom he secretly actually had a crush on, but had let it go for the sake of her happiness - and the world looks so bright for him.

But the Nightmare War never gets better for too long… as it will always get worse. And get worse it did, as strings of bad news after bad news began to bleed into Meta's life… Starting from his parents, who turned out to have been working with the Nightmare Enterprises behind the scenes to find a way to get their son back, alive or dead. Fortunately, he managed to escape their clutches each and every time, so that wasn't much of a concern… Until a certain ambush screwed over the whole team he was in at large. At the time, both Meta and Jecra were sent on a mission alongside a small group of Star Warriors to explore an abandoned planet in hopes of searching for a new base, but Nightmare’s forces beat them to the punch. They went and massacred most of the crew, with Jecra staying behind to ensure Meta's safety. In the end, Jecra was captured and disappeared for a while, with Meta trying to find him in other missions after that… only to find out that he has been brainwashed and corrupted fully, forcing him to put his fellow knight down. The news devastated everyone. But it gets worse. Another mission with Garlude and Meta goes to find the legendary sword Galaxia, which has been guarded by the NME through the hands of a monster by the name of Kirisakin as well as a platoon of other minions. Unfortunately, everyone else in the crew died, including Garlude, who sacrificed her life to get Meta Knight to grab the Galaxia and run with his life intact. That day, the blade chose him as his wielder, but Meta didn't feel happy - rather, he just felt worse, considering that he is now saddled with the new responsibility of being Galaxia’s protector, but also with guilt of the death of his two closest allies. And the cherry on top came a month later. He soon discovers a platoon of a monster experimentation base, and the ones that run them… turns out to be his father, who had turned his wife into a monster. And when Meta had to put down his own mother, he had to also put down the father too, because he transformed himself into a monster himself as his swan song. In the end, outside Focaccia, Meta had no one he can rely on - no friends, no family, just his mentor, and he fears that he would eventually cause his death too… So he closed himself from the world. He chooses to relocate himself to Popstar, a planet in the middle of nowhere, no longer fighting in the frontlines. There, he stationed himself in Dreamland, where Kabu was, and stuck around in Orange Ocean… occasionally helping out Dedede, whilst being rather suspicious with his rulings, but essentially, he distanced himself with most of the mess. Until Kirby crashed down on Cappy Town, that is, and he was the only one viable to teach him. He continues to teach Kirby, even after the war is over, but has taken liberties to protect the people of Dreamland as well… with mixed results. One time, he built the Dreamland Protection Brigade… everyone liked that, and even called themas the ‘Meta-Knights’, though he can't be arsed to care. Another time, he launched a sudden fake invasion to train the denizens of Dreamland… no one liked that, and he was even demoted in the GSA itself into a brigadier for such a rash action, and he ended up taking some time off while leaving Kirby to a redeemed Dedede’s hands. Meta Knight’s actions are a bit swingy, yet people still regard him as an ally… a difficult one, at worst. And now, after being brainwashed in the Technological War and playing his part later in killing off Star Dream, he mentors the entirety of Team Starstruck under Kirby’s request. At least, for now, he’s trying his best to live, despite still retaining a sense of emptiness - no longer he was looking for love or family, as he would rather work his best to avert another tragedy from happening ever again.

Miscellaneous

Favorites

Food: grapes, anything sweet in general Drink: [unknown] Music Genre: Game Genre: [none] (doesn't play games. Boomer) Paraphernalia: A photo of his former team Other talents: Baking, Copy Ability identification, airship operation

Least Favorites

Food: [none] Drink: Any alcoholic beverages

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Walked into a Chinese restaurant and realized they do a lot of traditional food, yay this is good I like this. Ok. I can't decide what to order. Waitress appears and asks, and I snap decide on one of the things I was looking at, salted fish hotpot. She gives me a Look and explains that it has salted fish in it (I did read that yes.) I say yeah ok I'll try it. She leaves. There is discussion. I hear "Stinky fish." The manager comes over and tells me I am ordering STINKY FISH am I SURE I want it. At this point I just have to double down bc I'm curious and not a coward I say yes please give me the stinky fish. I uh hope this goes well. I have had and enjoyed a variety of preserved fish but probably not this kind and definitely not this dish. But now I just gotta know yeah??

[crazywolf828]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: RWBY

Relationship: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long

Characters: Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, Ozpin (RWBY), Adam Taurus (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Heaven, Heaven & Hell, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Yang Xiao Long, Angst, I fuck with Bible lore, Blake as Eve, Bumbleby Week (RWBY), Bumbleby Week 2024 (RWBY)

Summary:

Yang hadn't wanted this, hadn't wanted to fall, she just wanted to help. Somehow she made everything so much worse.

She'd never been like the rest of the angels, her ideas had always caused worry. Their job was to protect earth, protect this new life they'd all created together.

Keep it from being destroyed.

-

Bumbleby Week Day 7: AU day

Shout out to the mods for putting together this year's bee week! Make sure to go check out @bumblebyweek-blog for more amazing art/fics!

[wiltinglycoris]

Gay gay homosexual gay

[jellyloveru]

not loving you own art, not hating it, but a secret third thing (not a fan of it)