#Shell Shocked Part 2

[dont-eat-the-algae]

New vs Old. I much prefer the longer gifs that showcase a broader range of emotion.

I don't know why the quality is different but maybe the encoding was worse then IDK

[ashleybenlove]

Snotlout just openly says Viggo scares me while Viggo kinda looks predatory at him.

Careful, Snotlout. He may switch his obsession to you.

[ashleybenlove]

This makes me want to keyboard smash.

Angst idea

Hiccup goes back to the burning stables but due to some difficulties by the hunters outside, he arrives a tad later. He finds Viggo collapsed in the floor locked up in that pen. Takes him under his arms and drags him out of there, laying him down on the landing platform outside, checking for any signs of life and sincerely hoping he wasn't too late

ANON

ANON, YOU ARE BIG BRAIN.

(Sorry for the yelling, but that's just a great image.)

This, also, is conveniently the moment where Hiccup comes to realize that he is romantically attracted to Viggo.

[anthropoetics]

readings: essays, articles & short stories pt. 2

the winter of civilisation

fruits we'll never taste, languages we'll never hear: the need for needless complexity

emily dickinson and the creative solitude of space

the lost art of looking at nature

the bowl, the ram and the folded map: navigating the complicated world

ada limón on preparing the body for a reopened world

before it was 'bittersweet', nostalgia was seen as a parasite

why alien languages could be far stranger than we imagine

the fig leaf, benjamin shane evans

cat pianos, sound-houses, and other imaginary musical instruments

of shark moves, shell shocks, and trash landings on the moon

as bright as a feather — ostriches, home dyeing, and the global plume trade

getting ahead, jonas karlsson

do these florida dolphins have a language?

the form of a demon and the heart of a person: kitagawa utamaro's prints of yamauba and kintarō (ca. 1800)

who needs ai text-generation when there's erasmus of rotterdam

when memories from fiction become part of who you are

how do transgender people remember their earlier selves?

[ahmed1132]

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #594)✅️

Help my family in Gaza and give them hope to live in peace 💔🚨

Hi, I am Ahmed from Palestine, from the northern part of Gaza City. I am 33 years old, married, and a father of two children. I live in the Jabalia refugee camp with my family, which consists of 19 members, in a four-story house.

Since the beginning of the war on Gaza on October 7th, life in northern Gaza has been extremely difficult, lacking basic necessities due to the siege imposed by the Israeli army on the northern part of the Gaza Strip. The occupation has blocked food, medicine, water, electricity, and even communication networks. Thousands of airstrikes have been carried out, and hundreds of massacres have been committed, mostly affecting innocent civilians, the majority of whom are children and women. The infrastructure, thousands of homes, and civilian facilities have been destroyed.

On May 12th, 2024, the Israeli army besieged the Jabalia camp for the second time and ordered us to evacuate, informing us that it was a military operation zone and a dangerous combat area. We were forced to leave our homes in the camp and flee under heavy bombardment and intense gunfire, navigating through the rubble and bodies lying in the streets and on the roads. We became homeless, with no food or water. During this difficult siege, I lost two of my brothers, Abdullah, 30 years old, and Atallah, 26 years old, due to random shelling and airstrikes on the camp.

Why am I collecting donations?

After more than 15 months of war, on January 19th, 2025, the ceasefire came into effect, and we returned to the camp to check on our home. However, we were shocked by the extent of the destruction and devastation in the camp. The homes had turned into piles of rubble, and we could no longer recognize the places or roads due to the scale of the damage. Our house was completely destroyed, leaving us homeless. Now, my family and I live in a small tent that is insufficient for the number of family members. It offers no privacy, no bathroom, no kitchen, and it does not protect us from the summer heat or the winter cold. We are living in an overcrowded environment with displaced people, chaos, piles of garbage, and the spread of diseases, especially among the displaced children.

This war has forced us to live in extremely harsh conditions and an environment that is unfit for human life. We continue to suffer every day from the ongoing war, repeated displacement, lack of resources and essentials, fear, pain, and oppression. Not to mention the hardship of fetching water, standing in long queues for basic needs, and struggling to find food—another challenge added to our suffering in this devastating war that is destroying people, buildings, trees, and animals. All of this has exhausted our bodies and deeply affected our mental well-being.

Therefore, I am reaching out to you through this humanitarian platform to help me support my family, rebuild our destroyed home, and contribute to providing the basic necessities of life so that I can live with my family with dignity and freedom.

• How will these donations be used?

1) An apartment will be rented to temporarily house my family until the reconstruction of the destroyed house is completed, as an alternative to a tent, at a cost of $600 per month for at least two years. (An estimated total cost of $14,000 over the two years.)

2) Purchase the basic tools and equipment necessary to furnish the rented apartment at an estimated cost of $5,000.

3) Purchase clothing and basic necessities for all family members at an estimated cost of $6,000.

4) Remove the rubble of the destroyed house and rebuild it at an estimated cost of $140,000.

5) Purchase the tools and equipment necessary to furnish all apartments in the new house at an estimated cost of $35,000.

• How does your donation and support make a difference?

Your support and donation is a noble humanitarian cause that supports and strengthens our resilience during the war. This contribution, even if it is small, will make a huge difference in my life and the life of my family.

Please help us to live in safety and peace, to start over to achieve our ambitions and dreams, and to create a safe environment for our children that will provide them with a bright future.

@gazavetters @brokenbackmountain@gazavetters @just-browsing1222 @mothblossoms @aleciosun @serica-e @fluoresensitive @katherineonline @khizuo @lesbiandardevil @transmutationisms @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi @yetisidelblog

[straw-berrysoju]

STUDY BREAK PART 2: ORAL EXAM (18+)

Part 1 : study break

Pairing: Seungcheol x !female reader

Setting: college classroom (psychology majors)

Themes: study partners, college setting, power play, public risk, control, obedienceD/s dynamics, power play, public risk, Freudian dirty talk, degradation praise mix, voyeurism (soft), obedience, teasing, edging, oral (f receiving), fingering, permission to watch

Word count: \~3.3k

Rating: Explicit / 18+ only

minors dni!

_______________________________________________________

📱 [21:56] Seungcheol:

Lecture Hall B. Tomorrow. After classes.

Oral exam on Freud.

No panties.

You stared at the message so long your phone dimmed twice. You bit your lip.

Not because you were shocked but because you felt your body react immediately.

Heat pooled between your thighs, your core pulsing at the simple dominance in his tone.

---

The next day, you couldn’t focus in class. You didn’t bother wearing anything under your skirt.

Even during lectures, every movement reminded you of it: the raw skin-on-fabric friction, the cool air between your legs, the dirty knowledge that if anyone looked closely, they’d see.

And Seungcheol?

He sat behind you during your shared afternoon elective like nothing was different—cool, calm, taking notes. He hadn’t even looked at you once. The only moment he acknowledged you was when he stood up to leave and leaned down, lips grazing your ear.

“Hope you studied, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I expect you to perform.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

---

When you step into Lecture Hall B later, the classroom is mostly dark except for a few desk lights still glowing faintly. It’s the one they use for after-hours tutoring or private bookings. You glance around. Empty.

Then—

A throat clears.

You turn and find him already seated near the front of the room, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, glasses sliding low on his nose.

“Close the door,” he says.

Your fingers move before your brain does.

He watches as you walk toward him, hips swaying slightly now that you're painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

“On the desk,” he says. “Facing me.”

You sit at the wide professor’s desk near the podium, heart hammering.

He stands and walks up slowly, placing a stack of note cards next to you.

“Today’s topic,” he says, voice low, “is Freud’s psychosexual stages. You’re going to recite each one. Tell me the age range, the fixation behavior, and what unresolved conflict leads to dysfunction in that stage.”

You blink. “Is this a real test or—”

“Don’t interrupt,” he snaps, but his smirk betrays him. “And no stuttering. Every mistake earns a consequence.”

You sit up straighter. “Consequences?”

“Teasing. Edging. Denial. You know,” he says, voice like velvet. “Motivators.”

You swallow.

“Let’s begin.”

He flicks a note card over. “Stage one.”

You steady your breath.

“The oral stage,” you begin. “Birth to around 18 months. The focus is on the mouth—feeding, sucking. If fixation occurs—”

He cuts you off by stepping between your legs, spreading them wider with his thigh.

“Correct,” he murmurs. “And what kind of behavior results from oral fixation?”

Your breath hitches. “Nail-biting. Smoking. Oral dependence… compulsive eating or talking…”

He leans in closer, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “And what else, sweetheart?”

You know what he wants.

You whisper, “Craving oral stimulation.”

He hums in approval. “Good girl.”

His hand slips beneath your skirt, fingers brushing your bare, already-damp folds.

“God,” he murmurs, “you’re soaked already? You do love being a textbook case, don’t you?”

You gasp as he draws a finger up your slit—not entering, not yet—just teasing the slickness there.

“Next stage,” he says, flicking another card.

“The anal stage,” you pant, struggling to focus. “18 months to three years. Focus on bowel control and retention.”

He circles your clit slowly.

“And fixation?”

“Compulsive cleanliness… or messiness. Control issues.”

“Mm. I can tell you’re not in control right now,” he whispers. “Which means you’re mine to manage.”

You nod, almost dazed, hips bucking slightly into his touch.

He pulls his hand away.

“Next.”

“Phallic stage,” you rush out. “Ages three to six. Focus on genitals. Development of the Oedipus complex in boys, Electra in girls—”

His lips are suddenly right against your neck.

“And how does the Electra complex present?” he asks, voice a rasp.

“Girls desire their father. View mother as rival. Crave male attention to resolve the conflict.”

He tugs you forward. “And what are you craving right now, baby?”

You whisper, “You.”

His breath hitches. “Say it louder.”

“I want you,” you plead. “Please—”

“Shh.” He smirks. “Still two stages left.”

You sob out a laugh. “I can’t—”

“You can. Be my good girl.”

You breathe hard, trying to steady yourself.

“Latency stage,” you say shakily. “Six to twelve. Sexual urges go dormant. Focus shifts to intellectual pursuits—school, friendships…”

He smirks. “Might be your weakest stage. You’re not doing much studying.”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t brat.”

You whimper.

“And the last?”

“Genital stage,” you gasp. “Puberty onward. Mature sexual interests. Healthy development depends on resolving earlier conflicts.”

He hums. “Think you’re in the genital stage now?”

“Cheol…”

“Answer.”

“Yes,” you whine. “Please—”

He drops to his knees.

You barely have time to breathe before his mouth is on you—tongue sliding over your soaked folds, lips sealing around your clit. You cry out, legs twitching, thighs clenching around his head.

“Fuck—Cheol—”

His grip on your hips tightens as he devours you. Long licks, firm pressure, alternating with soft sucks that make your vision blur. You buck against his mouth, already so close it’s unbearable.

And just when you're about to come—

He pulls back.

You sob.

“Did I say you could finish?” he asks, mouth slick with your arousal.

You shake your head furiously. “No—please—I’ll be good—”

He’s about to go back in when—

Click.

The door opens.

You freeze.

Seungcheol freezes.

A soft male voice stammers from the back of the room: “Shit—oh my god—I didn’t—I didn’t know someone was—”

It’s Jun.

The quiet kid who always seems to hover near the back row. Always early to class. Always scribbling in the margins of his psych readings. Never the type to make a sound unless directly called on.

And now—

He's standing in the open doorway of the lecture hall.

Backpack slung on one shoulder. Eyes wide.

And those eyes are locked onto you.

Propped up on the professor’s desk.

Skirt hitched above your waist.

Seungcheol’s head still between your thighs.

Your whole body seizes, and your first instinct is to shove your skirt down, scramble off the desk, and disappear into the floor.

But Seungcheol?

He doesn’t even flinch.

His head lifts, tongue slow against his bottom lip, savoring the taste of your arousal like it’s honey. He

doesn’t even bother wiping his mouth.

His hand stays possessively on your thigh as he turns lazily toward the door.

“You're early,” he says to Jun, voice calm. Almost amused.

Jun opens his mouth. Closes it.

Then: “I—I left my laptop charger. In the front row, I thought no one—”

“You saw plenty.”

Jun flushes violently, about to step back. “I’m so sorry—I’ll leave, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol says, voice suddenly sharp.

Jun freezes.

You, breathless and still dizzy from the orgasm Seungcheol just ripped from you moments ago, blink down at him. “Cheol—?”

Seungcheol’s gaze flicks to you. And it softens, just enough. “You okay?”

Your voice is hoarse. “Y-Yeah.”

“Color?”

“Still green.”

That earns a smile. One he throws over his shoulder toward Jun next.

“You interrupted an exam,” Seungcheol says. “It’s only polite you stay for the rest.”

Jun visibly swallows. “Wait, what?”

Seungcheol stands fully now, brushing his palm along your thigh. His fingers are wet with you, and you feel heat climb back into your chest at the thought of how visible it all is.

“Don’t worry,” Seungcheol tells Jun smoothly, “you don’t have to participate. You just get front row seats.”

Jun looks between the two of you—your blown-out expression, your trembling thighs, the wetness glistening on Seungcheol’s chin.

“I—” he stammers. “She… wants that?”

Seungcheol steps aside, letting you have the floor.

His voice drops. “It’s her choice.”

You swallow thickly, pulse roaring in your ears.

You don’t even look at Jun.

Your eyes stay on Seungcheol.

And you whisper, “Yes.”

His smile turns downright feral. “Good girl.”

“Back on the desk,” he orders.

You do as told—shaky legs lifting as you ease back into position, skirt riding up again, your pussy still twitching from the last round.

He bends over you again. Mouth so close you can feel the heat of it against your core. You glance past him now, to the row of seats where Jun has quietly sunk into the corner desk, his laptop charger now forgotten on the floor by his feet.

He’s leaning forward, expression unreadable, legs slightly apart, hands in his lap.

Watching.

You feel the burn of humiliation lick at the edges of your stomach—and then melt, replaced by something darker. Filthier. Hotter.

Seungcheol starts slow this time. Deliberately slow.

He presses open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thigh, working his way up, dragging his tongue just shy of where you need it. His breath is warm. His grip is firm.

“You hear that?” he murmurs. “He’s watching how sweet you look like this. Spread open. Dripping. Needy.”

You moan.

“And you love it. Don’t you?” His lips brush your clit—just once. “You love being watched.”

You don’t want to say it. You can’t say it.

But your hips lift, chasing his mouth.

Your body betrays you.

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Knew it.”

Then he finally puts his mouth on you again—and this time, there’s no mercy.

He licks and sucks with intention, with heat, his nose bumping your clit as he tongues your entrance. Your thighs are shaking, your toes curling against the cool wood of the desk. You try to bite your hand to stay quiet, but he catches your wrist and pins it to your side.

“No hiding,” he growls. “Be loud for me.”

And god—you are.

Your moans echo through the empty room, bouncing off the walls, reverberating between the seats. Jun doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his stare—hot and focused and fixed right where Seungcheol is licking you apart.

And then—without warning—Cheol adds a finger.

Then two.

He fucks them into you slowly, curling just right, tongue circling your clit as your orgasm builds again, fast, like it’s sprinting up your spine.

You’re whimpering now, helpless. “Cheol—Cheol—I’m gonna—”

He doesn’t stop.

Your body bows. Your mouth drops open, and you come hard around his fingers, slick pouring out of you in waves. You’re crying out now—no control, no shame, nothing but pleasure and that filthy, heady knowledge that you’re being watched.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, deliberately. Brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, never breaking eye contact.

With Jun.

Then he looks at you again. “One more?”

Your head lolls back. “Please.”

He kisses your thigh gently.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Lesson’s not over yet

Seungcheol doesn’t let you breathe long.

He stands, slowly pushing his hoodie sleeves back up his forearms, then grabs your waist with both hands and spins you around on the desk.

Now you’re bent forward, cheek against the cool wood, eyes facing the classroom.

Facing Jun

His knuckles are white around the edge of the seat. His face flushed, eyes locked on the slick mess between your thighs. And the new shape of Seungcheol behind you—his belt already unbuckling with a quiet clink that echoes in your ears.

"Keep your legs spread, give him a good view of this pretty pussy," Seungcheol says behind you, voice calm, dangerous. “Back arched. Palms flat.”

You obey instantly.

You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, hot and heavy, teasing—just the tip brushing through your folds.

Then he leans forward over your back, mouth to your ear.

"You want him to see what a good girl looks like when she gets fucked for real?"

You moan, helplessly. “Yes.”

He thrusts in slow and deep—one smooth stroke—and you choke on a cry.

It’s too much, too thick, too intense after how sensitive you are from coming twice.

Your body clamps around him, involuntary, and he groans against your neck.

“God, you’re fucking tight. You love this, don’t you?”

You can’t speak. Just nod, barely holding yourself up as he starts to move—deep, strong strokes that push you forward on the desk.

And every sound—your breath, your wetness, the slap of skin against skin—is audible. Loud. Raw.

For Jun.

"Eyes up," Seungcheol orders. "I want you to look at him while I ruin you."

You lift your head—and meet Jun’s stare. He’s breathing heavily now. His pants are tight across his lap. But he hasn’t moved his hands.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Seungcheol growls without even turning around. “You haven’t earned that.”

Jun stiffens in his seat. “Y-Yes, sir.”

You gasp—sir.

Seungcheol smirks. “Oh? He learns quick.”

He fucks you harder.

You whimper, body shaking, struggling to keep your eyes on Jun, but the humiliation—the arousal—keeps you pinned in place.

Then Seungcheol stops.

You sob at the loss of friction.

And hear the shuffle of paper.

He’s grabbed your flashcards.

He flips one. Reads it.

“Define ‘reaction formation,’” he says casually.

You blink, dazed. “W-What?”

He thrusts in sharply. You yelp.

“Define it.”

You scramble for the answer. “It’s—a defense mechanism. When someone behaves in a way that’s opposite of their actual feelings.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, rolling his hips deeper. “Example?”

“Someone—” You moan. “Someone hating someone, but acting overly friendly.”

“Mm. Like pretending you’re innocent when you really want to be used like a toy?” he coos.

You whimper, thighs trembling.

Seungcheol turns around.

“Jun. Get up.”

Jun hesitates—then obeys, walking slowly down the aisle toward the front.

You tense.

Seungcheol notices.

“Color?”

You whisper, “Green.”

He nods. “Good.”

“Closer,” he tells Jun. “Stand right here.”

Jun stops beside the desk. You can’t even look at him—face flushed, body exposed, Seungcheol buried deep inside you.

“Hold the flashcards,” Seungcheol says.

Jun takes them with shaky fingers.

“Read the next one.”

Jun swallows. “Uh. ‘Displacement.’”

Seungcheol pulls out halfway and slams back in. You sob.

“Displacement,” you pant. “When someone takes out their emotions on a safer target. Like—yelling at your roommate when you're mad at your professor.”

Seungcheol hums, lips brushing your shoulder. “Guess you’re the target now, huh?”

“Next card,” he commands.

Jun fumbles. “Um—‘Transference.’”

You try to focus, body twitching from the rhythm of Seungcheol’s thrusts, your slick pouring down your thighs.

“Transference is—” you moan, “redirecting feelings meant for one person onto another. Like… projecting parental issues onto a therapist.”

Seungcheol grunts. “Or a professor’s desk, maybe.”

He grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back with one hand. His other hand curls around your throat, gently but firmly.

“Jun,” he says, calm. “Describe what you see.”

Jun chokes. “I—she’s bent over. Y-You’re—fucking her. Her thighs are shaking.”

“Her pussy?” Seungcheol growls. “What’s it doing?”

Jun’s voice is nearly a whisper. “It’s… wet. It’s gripping you.”

“Good,” Seungcheol says darkly. “Now watch what happens when I tell her not to come.”

He leans down to your ear. “You don’t come until I say.”

You bite your lip hard. “Yes, sir.”

And then he ruins you.

He pounds into you harder, rougher, the desk creaking beneath your hips. Your moans are sobs now, pleasure high and sharp, right at the edge—but held back, barely.

“Beg,” he growls.

“Please, please, please—” you chant. “I need to come, sir, please—I’ll be good—”

He slams into you deep and stills.

“Come.”

You break apart.

A scream wrenched from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you—blinding, body-wrecking, wet and messy and loud.

Seungcheol fucks you through it until you collapse against the desk, limp and twitching.

Jun is still frozen at your side, panting, sweating.

“Put the cards down,” Seungcheol tells him. “You’re done.”

Jun obeys silently.

Seungcheol kisses your shoulder, then your cheek.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod slowly. “Still green.”

He smiles. “God, you’re perfect.”

Then he turns to Jun.

“Leave,” he says. “And keep your mouth shut. About everything.”

Jun blinks. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”

And then he’s gone—almost running out of the room—leaving you panting and dripping on the professor’s desk, with Seungcheol still inside you, smiling like the devil.

He slowly pulls out, hands steadying your hips as he helps you sit up — not rushing, not letting go until you’re upright and leaning back against his chest. You’re still trembling, thighs sticky and soaked, mascara smudged under your eyes, your blouse halfway undone. You feel used. Exposed.

And utterly adored.

He strokes your hair and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You were so good, babygirl”

Seungcheol breathes hard, smirking.

“Today's lesson is over”

_______________________________________________________

tagging everyone who requested part 2:

@cherrylovescheol @coffee4koo @sseungcheols

[tldrthor]

promises we intend to keep | steve rogers

Summary: The Avenger's spend time with their comatose friend, Cap's sanity slips from him as he spends every night by her bedside. Is blind faith enough?

Part 2 to things we shouldn't have said (prev. classic enemies to lovers stuff) // He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. // word count: 4.3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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“Hi, (y/n).” He settled himself into the chair next to the bed, the familiar antiseptic smell filling his nostrils, the beep, beep, beep of her heart like music to his ears. He had hated it at first, but now, it was evidence that she was still here. There was still hope. “I’ve got a break between meetings so I figured I’d come down and say hello.”

He leaned back, watching her peaceful features as unmoving as they had been for nearly a month now. He frowned at the wires connected to her neck and chest, knowing that if she was awake she would’ve hated that. Part of him wanted to rip them off, but his more rational thinking prevented him from doing that.

Dr. Cho’s words circled round his mind, as they hadn’t stopped doing since she spoke them all those weeks ago. “She’s not out of the woods yet. She died twice on the table, and requires all manners of intervention going forward. We’ll only know the extent of the damage when she wakes up –” The doctor had paused for just a second, trying to soften what was only certain to be a killing blow. “–If she wakes up.”

Every time he remembered those words, his knees felt as weak as Bambi on ice. The nausea he used to feel every time he entered this room had faded, and the shell-shock had worn. She still occupied every moment of his thoughts, awake or unconscious. Not that he had been doing a lot of sleeping.

He opened the book at the page he had last left off at, when Sam had come downstairs and dragged the Captain to bed himself last night. “Just to recap,” He spoke to her regardless of her response to him. “Laurie confessed to Jo, but she rejected him. Beth is still sick and boy, that’s rough.” 

He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

================================================

“(Y/l/n), I’ve had enough now.” Natasha charged through the doors to where (y/n) lay. She threw herself down in the chair, leaning her head on her asleep friend’s shoulder, trying to gain what little emotional support she could from her usual source of sanity amongst the chaos of the compound. “The boys are driving me crazy. I think you’ve made your point; Cap is sorry – he’s very, very sorry, borderline depressed – so you can come back.”

She smiled a charming, pleading smile. But no one was there to see it. She dropped the smile after a few seconds.

“(Y/n), it’s hard without you here. No one’s the same, and Steve won’t accept any missions so we can’t even escape. Sam and Bucky are about to tear each other apart, and Cap just wallows in the gym whenever he’s not here with you.”

More silence. 

“Anyways, Cap said that he wants someone here as much as possible. And we haven’t hung out in a while, so if you don’t mind we’re going to watch the new season of Love Island together.” She kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs over the hospital bed and getting comfortable.

================================================

The next visitor didn’t say anything as he walked through the doors, hovering by the foot of the bed. He uncomfortably brought his hands in and out of his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other. 

He eventually moved beside the bed, reaching a hand out to her forehead, to get rid of a hair that had found itself there. He stood there, staring, in silence for a while longer. He swallowed, took a breath, and spoke out loud;

“Kid, I don’t know if you can hear me.” He paused. “You probably can’t.”

He paced around the room, continuing; “I just want you to know, I got your little letter. Really, more of a stunt, very childish – anyway. I want you to know that if that’s your wish, I’ll help you out in setting up. But I also need you to know that you’re going to have to tell me that to my face. So you’ll have to wake up.”

“Also, I’m your boss and your sick pay is running out, so chop chop.” He joked to himself. He basked in the silence for another second.

“It’s not the same without you, (y/l/n). Hope to talk soon.”

“Mr. Stark, Mrs Potts is requesting your presence in the kitchen.” FRIDAY chimed in right on time. He muttered a be right up, taking one last look at his young teammate, and walked out the doors. 

================================================

A month to the day since she was shot, Steve couldn’t sleep. Before the whole debacle, he would’ve just gone to the gym and fought it out of his system. But now, he couldn’t bear being anywhere but in the medical bay. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up in that chair, neck in excruciating pain, the book on the floor. Or, the amount of times Bucky or Sam or Natasha had come downstairs and marched him back to bed.

He couldn’t help it. The thought of her waking up alone, not knowing where she is, was his greatest concern – scratch that, his greatest fear was her not waking up at all.

He didn’t take the time to change into proper clothes, instead deciding to head down in his pyjamas – ones that she had complimented him on, once upon a time. Red flannel pants and a matching henley – she had described it as ‘lumberjack chic’ and then explained that that was a good thing. He hadn’t realised back then, but Steve now thinks she might have been flirting. He cursed how much of an idiot he was before this disaster.

He wished desperately he could turn back time to then. Before he decided the only way not to love her, was to hate her.

“It’s me, again.” He spoke, taking his familiar spot on the chair next to the bed. He yawned, getting himself more comfortable, flicking the blanket they had all collectively decided was required over his legs. “Now, where were we?” He picked up the book again, reciting words from the pages until it fell from his hand, loud snores from his mouth filling the room.

================================================

When he awoke again, he was in the same familiar pain he always had when he spent too much time in the chair. This time he had fallen forward, his head resting on the bed and… his hand entwined in hers.

He sighed, giving himself the luxury of just a second feeling what he would never have. Her hands were soft, and smooth. Not like his own. They were warm, and comfortable, and something about her fingers holding onto his just felt right.

It wouldn’t be respectful to linger for longer than that, not without her knowing, but as he tried to pull his hand away –

Was that a twitch?

He stared at her hand, now more awake and alert than he had been all month. There was no way, he was definitely just going delirious through stress, or lack of sleep, or maybe his age had just caught up with him because –

A second twitch.

“Oh my god.” He glared daggers into her hand, as if that would do something. Maybe he really was losing his marbles. This was just wishful thinking. His heart feeling like it was about to thump, thump, thump right out of his chest. Do it again. Please, do it again. 

When it happened for a third time, and he saw it with his own eyes, he could only make a noise that could really only be described as a squeal. On his feet in an instant, his hand finding its way to her cheek, cupping her face.

There was no other sign of life. He stared and stared and stared. “Wake up, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here.” He pleaded. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he considered them; “If you wanted to prove a point, consider it proven. You’re not a liability, you’ve never, ever been a liability.”

“Just wake up. I am so, so sorry for everything.” His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes staring at her face looking for anything that might indicate she was coming back to him. “Just wake up.”

Nothing.

He sat back down, defeated. He had gotten his hopes up, and it all came crashing back down. He placed his hand firmly back on hers as he leant his head on the bed, wet patches forming on the sheets as saltwater leaked from his eyes.

====================================

“Cap, we’re not saying we don’t believe you —” Sam was interrupted.

Steve turned away from his friends, growing more and more frustrated with every sentence uttered. They didn’t believe him. She had moved. She was coming back, but no one would listen.

“You don’t believe me. I promise her hand twitched.” His jaw tensed, his stare as far away from his friends as he could get.

“Stevie, we believe that you felt something, but you have to admit, bud, you’ve been hardly sleeping and pushing yourself too far. Nothing was picked up on monitors, how would that be?” Bucky reasoned, sitting in the same chair where Steve had been so convinced she was waking up, just hours ago.

He had called them to the room as early as he deemed was responsible that day, and they had come running. Only to find their friend still asleep, and the captain with red eyes and bags under them that only seemed to get worse and worse the more they looked.

Sam sighed, hand reaching up to rub his temple. He had had a pretty consistent headache himself for a good couple of weeks. “Steve, I completely understand. We all want her back, but you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. She’ll wake up, just give her time.”

“Sam, it’s been a month – the doctor said if she was going to wake up it would take around a week.” Steve pleaded, the tears welling in his eyes again. He didn’t care anymore about hiding it from them. They already thought he was crazy anyway.

Sam placed a hand on his back as he wiped the water with the back of his hand.

“We’ll wait as long as it takes, but it has to be we. You can’t be here all the time, Steve. It’s no good if she wakes up and you’ve killed yourself from lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss the moment she comes back.” He whispered.

Sam and Bucky made eye contact, pitying looks cast between them. 

Bucky decided to speak, seeing Sam’s heartbreak at trying to reason with their normally solid friend. “Steve, you have to go to bed – don’t argue – but I’ll stay with her. I promise that if anything happens, I will let you know in an instant.”

Steve’s lips drew into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky continued; “Come on, just give me a couple hours, Stevie. I’ll chat to her, we’ll listen to music or something. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

“Come on.” Sam put his arm round Steve, gentle but firmly leading him away. He stole one last glance, as Bucky pulled out his phone to put on some music.

When the boys were finally away, Bucky turned to her. “You’re causing quite a ruckus, tiger. You always liked your sleep, but this is a bit much.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “There’s not much to say, kid – I know that the others have been talking your ear off. We need you back.”

He scrolled on his phone a little. Looking for the playlist she had shared with him – one to blend their music tastes. It was originally just for a mission they had to go on together, but turned into one of his favourite ways to bond with her. Music. He laughed again at the name: ‘Golden Oldie and the Wunderkind’ He remembered the day she had made up the name, they hadn’t stopped laughing for hours.

He clicked shuffle, smiling as I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers came over the speakers. “I know you like this song because it reminds you of Stevie.” He teased, but let it play out. He didn’t quite let himself sing, but he did mouth the words to his favourite verse;

That woman, she’s got eyes that shine, Like a pair of stolen, polished dimes. She asked to dance, I said ‘it’s fine– I’ll see you in the morning time’.

What he didn’t tell her, didn’t dare to say out loud, was that ever since he had mentioned to Steve that she liked the song, Steve had listened to it at least once a day. Particularly after they had their usual fights.

These idiots have a lot to figure out when she wakes up. He thought to himself.

================================================

Bucky got a few hours with her, listening to their playlist, occasionally chatting about the song choices. He briefly tried to read the book on the side, but when he saw it was Little Women, he put it right back down again. 

“Sorry, tiger. Not my vibe.” He chuckled.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a slightly-less-haggard Captain America. He had put actual clothes on, looked like he had slept at least a little bit and had even showered. Bucky gave a nod of approval, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair again.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked his friend, who simply nodded in response. 

Buck stood, knowing that Steve wanted to be alone with her right now. To not have the pitying looks thrown at him that Bucky couldn’t help but cast. He understood, he had been there.

“See ya, punk.” He gave a hearty smile before leaving.

Steve took his rightful seat, sighing before starting the same routine they had done over, and over, and over again. He was growing so sick of this chair, and the bed, and the beeping from the machines that didn’t seem to be helping at all. 

He got through around half a chapter of Little Women, until he realised that Beth was going to die. He didn’t know how he hadn’t remembered, he had heard his mother reading this book all the way back in ‘35. He closed the book, finding death far too triggering, given the current situation. 

Just closing the book wasn’t enough, it was like it burned him to hold it. He threw it across the room in a moment of fury. Frustration swept his whole body as he spiralled, down and down and down. He was ashamed of how out of control he had become. He had always been so rational, so measured. He was always the one people came to when they needed grounding – yet he didn’t know how to ground himself.

He rested his head on her arm, his sweaty palms holding her hand with a ferocity hitherto unseen from him. Like his damn life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

“Come on, (y/n),” He pleaded with the air. With God. With her. “I know you’re mad at me, just wake up and we’ll have another shouting match. Just like before.” A brutally defeated tone weighed down his voice, rough and gravelly from the effort of his bargain. He enclosed her hand in both of his own, leaning his head against them.

A cough. 

He froze for a second, hiding behind her hand in his. The coughs continued, dry and painful sounding. Was there someone else in the room?

He took a moment to steel himself, peeling himself away from her hand, and staring at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “Oh my god.”

“Water.” She croaked.

He jumped up, the chair going flying backwards. He didn’t notice. With shaking hands, he poured the water from the jug on the bedside table into one of the plastic cups. He held it up to her dry, cracked lips, watching as she drank the whole cup.

“Be careful.” He spoke, instincts kicking in. “You’re on fluids, don’t overload your kidneys.”

She finished, her head laying straight back down on the pillow. He could see in her very brief movements that she was weak. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Her eyes were barely open as she turned her head in his direction.

“Captain?” Her voice was rough as sandpaper, like she was straining just to get her singular words out. He just stared, incredulously.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like he had always said it, and he didn’t even notice. “Oh, my god. You’re awake. I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He had practiced over and over again, what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Thought about it for entire nights when he couldn’t get to sleep. His plans had been poetic and perfect – they were not ‘oh my god you’re awake.’ He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

Her eyes opened, slowly, and she looked around the room. “What happened?” The words were still a struggle to get out and he could tell. He wanted to tell her to rest, to save her voice for later, to recuperate. But he hadn’t heard that sound in so long, that he let himself be selfish – just one more time.

His own mouth when dry at her amnesia. She knew who he was, which was good. But not knowing how she ended up here was a bad sign. 

“What do you remember?” She was growing restless at lying down, and she was in so much pain. It felt like her whole body was made of stone, but she used all of the strength she had in her to try to sit up.

She was met by gentle hands, guiding her up and placing pillows behind her to support her. Hands that belonged to her once arch-nemesis, who looked at her now like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She was so confused. 

“I remember arguing in the forest.” Her eyes were wide with what Steve could only decipher as panic. “I don’t remember anything else… Why am I here?” The scared tone in her voice broke Steve’s heart all over again, but it could not take over the elation he felt at the fact that she was there.

He took a deep breath, briefly considering what he should tell her, considering all the events of the last month, in particular, that day. One of the worst days of his life.

“You were shot through the chest.” He began. “It knocked you out instantly, we barely got you here alive.” He ran his thumb softly over the back of her hand, unable to make eye contact. “You- you’ve been asleep for a month.”

He decided not to tell her of the fact she had died on the operating table. That could wait.

“A month?!” She shouted, resulting in another coughing fit. He helped her drink some more water, making soothing noises as she did so. It all felt so surreal. Every minute of every day since that moment, he had wished for this. And now it was happening. She was awake, and talking. 

Her voice started to clear; “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No. Please, don’t worry about me. You saved me from being shot right before you went down – it was my fault you got hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” She contorted her face into a puzzled expression, looking down at his hand, clasping hers. She said it as a mix between a statement and a question – “We’re holding hands?”

“Yes, um. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and your hand twitched a couple of days ago so that’s why – sorry, I’ll stop-”

As he tried to untangle their hands, she closed her fist and prevented him from doing so. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly, her eyes wide.

“Please, don’t.” Her words were like a child’s as her nostrils flared. She was uncertain. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her uncertain before, not even a flash of hesitance had danced across her features as far back as he could remember. “It feels nice.”

Maybe, he just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Then I’ll keep holding your hand until you ask me to stop.” He promised. A gentle, sincere smile took over his features, which she tried her best to replicate. He observed her face, drinking in the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. 

It was a stark contrast to how they had last left off – the image replaying over and over again in his mind of her clinging to life, blood leaking from her mouth, her nose, her chest. The inky, sticky red coating his suit and his hands and his shoes. So much blood, endless. Sometimes he still felt the slick heat of it all over him. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to scrub that feeling from his memory.

“Where are the others? Are they okay?” (Y/n) asked, looking around the room at the various bunches of flowers and cards littered upon every surface. Steve had completely forgotten the others existed in his complete shock at her return.

He winced, knowing he should have called for them immediately. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” He spoke directly to her, and then to the ceiling; “FRIDAY, let everyone know that (y/n) is awake.”

“Yes, Captain.” The irish lilt came from above.

It was mere seconds before the doors came barrelling open, the entire team funnelling into the relatively small room, crowding around the bed and exclaiming various different versions of ‘Oh my god’, ‘You’re awake’, ‘Holy shit’. The room was absolute chaos with an unmusical cacophony.

This was allowed to go on for a few minutes, before the on-call doctor, someone (y/n) had never seen before, rounded the corner. “Okay, okay!” He shouted, “This is too much for the patient, I want everyone out – you can come in smaller groups.”

Everyone grumbled but did as they were told, each taking their chance to say ‘call if you need anything’, ‘see you later’ or ‘we’ll come back with sweets’. Bucky ruffled her hair and Natasha pressed a kiss to her cheek, muttering about how a certain Captain would be looking after her. She didn’t really understand what it meant, but a blush spread to her cheeks anyway.

As the last of them filed out, Steve turned to her and asked; “Do you want me to stay?” A certain vulnerability sewn into his question.

“Yes.” She answered far too quickly. “Please, Captain. If that’s okay.” Her voice seemed to get smaller and smaller as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her grip on his hand tightened, both a demand and a question contained within it.

How on Earth could he say no to her? Her wide, gorgeous eyes searched his face for an answer, which he gave by settling further into the chair, pulling it even closer to the bed, if that was even possible. 

“Like I said, as long as you want. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Captain not taking his eyes away from her face. 

“(Y/n).” He had to tell her, now or never. He wouldn’t risk something like this again, things going unsaid. “I hope you know how sorry I am for what I said, all those weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I realised all this time I’ve not hated you, I’ve …”

She looked at him, her lips parted. Her messy hair splayed in a way where the fluorescent lights caught it, making it look like a sort of pseudo-halo. He knew it, right there and then. This was it.

“I’ve loved you. Since the moment we met.”

A shocked expression on her face moved slowly, her open mouth contorting into a soft, loving smile. She squeezed his hand, bringing her other arm over to hold it as well. Just more contact. That was all she needed.

“Steve, I feel the same.” She was still playing with his actual name, not ‘Captain’ or ‘Rogers’ or a sarcastic ‘Cap’. He couldn’t believe how it sounded coming from her – like it was a new name altogether. Like a song he was discovering for the first time.

He couldn’t help it now, he beamed. “You do?”

She nodded, licking her lips. They were so cracked, and dry. But she didn’t care.

“I– I can’t lean over to you, but… I would love to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t waste any time. Up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing what little distance was left between them. His hands reached her cheeks first, cupping them ever so softly. They breathed together, just for a second, his eyes flicking to hers almost to make sure she knew what she was doing. 

And then his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn’t like she had imagined – it wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t angry, wasn’t sudden. It was calculated and gentle and passionate. It was everything she could ever have hoped for.

They pulled apart, Steve knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to hold her breath to kiss her as long as he wanted to. His hand stroked her cheek, his eyes staring into hers. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, before moving up and pressing a kiss to it.

The look in his eyes was one of love, happiness and admiration.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He admitted, breathless from excitement. They smiled at each other wordlessly, growing used to the looks between not being ones of glaring and daggers, but of kindness, and warmth.

The only sound was the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart rate – a sound he had definitely decided he loved. They stayed like that for hours, before she started to fall back asleep – to rest, this time.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, as she slipped back into slumber.

“I promise.” And nothing on Earth could stop him from keeping it.

================================================

TAGS -- I've tagged everyone who requested a part two! You guys really keep my motivation up so I hope it's done you justice <3. This will be the last part for now, but I'm thinking of setting future domestic fics in this universe!

@haven-in-writing @marvelouskatie @veryaverageapple @ironwinnerwonderland @ohdrey89 @waqtzayaontmblr @shygamergirl01 @starkenobi @ynstark

p.s. please please listen to 'I and Love and You' by the Avett Brothers if you haven't before -- it's so Steve and is such a lovely song.

[fishnapple]

How they proclaim their love for you

(lover/partner/future spouse)

This reading is about how the person you have in mind would proclaim their love for you. You can consider these as their mini love affirmations

Disclaimer : cheesy edition

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

CUBE 1

• Let's take all our time in this world. There's no need to rush. Time? It might not even exist for us. We have escaped time.

• You sent an electric shock down to my core and I still find myself standing. Stronger than ever. Like a machine getting its fuel.

• Our language is of moonlight, fluttering wings, laughter of the stream, cloudy scents of flesh.

• Our lips kiss through the air with words.

• Actions speak louder and we are loud in our actions.

• My mind is spinning, soaring then diving, goes a hundred miles around then comes back, struggling to take you all in.

• This dark corner is our playground.

• I'm in hardworking mode when it comes to our connection. I have lofty goals. Let's work hard together.

• We look like kids when we're out into the outside world together. People ask whether we are friends? We are best friends, whether we are lovers? We are best lovers, whether we're having fun? Nothing is more fun and more serious.

• I have fears, but when I open my mouth, I don't let them escape. But you helped them get out. Is this a prison break for them or for me?

• My mind keeps going back and forth from past to future and you're there, in all of them.

CUBE 2

• Here, take my money. What's mine is yours.

• Do you know the plot where one character is thrown into a dire situation, and somehow, the other one character will come to their rescue. That's me, I'm the one rescued, by you.

• After winter is spring, time goes on, seasons change, I have you with me to witness that together.

• I've become greedy. Wanting to possess every minuscule expression of yours. If I would just freeze them in time.

• Do you see those wild beasts outside the window? And here we are, snuggle comfortably in our home, safely. The light of our home attracted those beasts, they're outside, cold and hungry. Our home will welcome them, but they won't be able to come in as their old shells. They will come in as happiness, transformed.

• I fall in love fast and then I keep it slow.

• I love giving you a bath, bubbling up your hair, seeing water running on your skin then later drying your hair for you and smelling the fresh shampoo scent. Aromatherapy at its finest.

• There's this need growing in me, and I can feel it growing in you too, we share some parts of ourselves with each other. This need is big, it's overwhelming, it makes my heart feel a tugging pain, it animates my body, giving me energy. It's the need to be, to stay alive, so that I can be together with you.

• I know all the right words yet feel like a fool with you.

• I imagine myself a parent, coming home to see our kids fighting, then I will act as a mediator, coming in to lecture them. I look forward to this scenario more than the promotions of my career. Biggest achievement.

• Thank you for letting me love you.

CUBE 3

• Loving you feels like second nature for me, something I've done so many times already, everything in me just do it automatically.

• We definitely have met before. Did we share past lives together? You look so familiar, like the ghost in my dreams, the daydreams in my head, the face of a character in those novels I read.

• My soul is a trapped pool, I would use my bare hand to scoop out all the dirt and monsters from it, take a cupful of water, boil it over and over again until it transparently pure, keep it warm or ice it the way you like then present it to you.

• I stand firm on this earth, confident that I have someone to come back to.

• Our hearth is the most sacred place to me. I would put offering before it, just like how people of bygone days worshipped at the god altar.

• I will keep it warm and nourishing for you.

• Never fear.

• Our lifetime together will blink by so fast, I'm already missing it. But have no fear, it won't end.

• We navigate this path so well that we're definitely professional travellers.

• Change of places, change of jobs? Doesn't matter, I can go along with everything, as long as there's no change of hearts.

• We've travelled from faraway lands to each other and we will continue to travel together.

• I wish you could read my mind and feel my heart, and I could do the same for yours, it would save a lot of time and misunderstanding.

• This is just the beginning.

CUBE 4

• I will tell you "I love you" everyday. Make that a checklist.

• If you and I went to the same school, you would be my high-school sweetheart, the one that I would secretly gush about in little notes, the one that I would absentmindedly draw a heart next to your name.

• Even if we were continents apart, I still feel you next to me, every waking moment and every sleepy dream.

• You fill my throat with sweet sweet love dripping down so much I feel like I can't breathe.

• I love you.

• I can't speak! Tongue tied. Unlock me. But then, if the door is open, I'm too shy to step out.

• In sickness and in health.

• I feel a part of myself went missing whenever you're not here.

• Your pain makes me bleed.

• This is new to me, I don't know what to do. Help me, teacher.

• I probably have a malfunction somewhere in the system to be acting like this. What have you done?

• You are love personified.

• Life has been good since you came to me. But it also has been exceptionally difficult for me to stay alone.

• I have imagined countless times how you would hold my younger self in your arms and feel soothed by them. I may not get to feel it in the past, but I will feel it now, for my past self, my present self and my future self.

[sevikaslatinawife]

could you please do reader mouthing off to sevika and acting shocked when she bends reader over her knee and fixes the attitude problem

My first anon :’) Tysm. I hope you enjoy. Sorry it took long, I had work and I didn’t know what attitude to go with lol.

Discipline

Warnings: spanking, degradation, pussy slaps, dom!sevika, sub/brat!reader, afab!reader, light choking

Read Part 2

“Fuck you, I’m not staying here,” You scoff as you stare up at Sevika.

“I’m not asking, doll. I’m telling you, you’re staying,” Her tone is stern and unwavering as she glares down at you.

“Sevika, I am not letting you go with Jinx, alone. She almost shot you last time!”

Sevika grunts. “I can handle myself. I don’t need you worrying —“

“You can’t fucking make me,” You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m not going to sit here —“

“Oh, yes you are,” Her hand reached out to cup your chin, squeezing your face in her hand. Her warm right right. “I don’t care if I have to tie you to this bed, you’re not going.”

“Screw you, Sevika,” You grit, jerking your face from her touch but she tightens it.

“Watch it, doll. Fix that attitude,” She warns, voice low and a deep rumble in her chest.

“Bite me,” You grit, hand trying to tug her wrist off, get her hand away from your face. “My attitude is just fucking fine!”

“Last chance,” She growls, metal hand coming out to grip your hip.

“I’m. Not. Apologizing,” You enunciate each word through gritted teeth, almost spitting them out as if they burn your tongue.

You weren’t the type to back down so easily. Not even with her.

So truthfully, you should’ve seen this coming.

“Ah!” You cry out as the first spanks hits, trying to free yourself from her grip. She had you across her lap, panties around your knees as her left, metal arm held you down.

“Count,” she snarls and hits you twice more.

“T-Three!” You say, feeling the burning of her hand on your ass. She was hitting right at the curve, where she knows you’d feel it when you sat down.

“There we go, good,” Another sharp slap and you whimper out the next number. “If I tell you,” smack. “To do something,” smack. “fucking,” smack, smack. “Do it.”

“Eight!” You scream. “Vika, I’m sorry!” Your hands shoot back, trying to cover your ass from the spanking.

“Oh, don’t go there,” She growls, smacking your hands. “Want your hands involved? Fine by me, doll. Go ahead, spread that cunt for me.”

“No,” you whine, shaking your head. “Please, no. I’m sorry!”

“Do it,” She warns, smacking your thigh and making you jolt.

Your eyes water but the tears don’t fall as you hook your fingers beneath the curve of your ass. You spread yourself open and feel a flush of embarrassment tint your face and neck at her laugh.

“Look at you,” She groans, giving your cunt a slap. You cry out, eyes wide as your fingers tremble. “You love getting punished.”

“I—“ another scream as a second smack is delivered to your cunt, then a third.

Your thighs shiver and buck in pain and the zing of pleasure that threatens to consume you.

“Count,” She takes your wrists and pins them against your lower back with her left hand, delivering another smack to your ass.

“Uh, nine!” You gasp as another hits, body jolting. “Ten!”

“You missed three,” She laughs, left hand coming up to grip your throat and crane your neck back for her to kiss your temple. “Stupid little princess.”

“Thirteen,” You offer in a breath, thighs shaking and hips bucking.

“Spread yourself,” and this time, you don’t argue, you do.

You choke on a sob when two more hits are delivered to your cunt. “Fifteen,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” Sevika’s fingers tilt your head so she can press a kiss to the corner of your trembling mouth.

Her fingers rub your cunt and you groan cause it’s still throbbing. “Sev —“

“Want me to take care of you?” She whispers against the shell of your ear.

Your cunt twitches against her fingers as you nod. You can feel her smiling against your ear as you let out a meek, broken. “Please.”

Thinking so many things. Lmk if you like it anon! And if you’d like a part 2!

Send me more requests y’all, I love this.

Also thank you for 110 followers what! It’s been like a week omg

[farfromharry]

The Mario Kart Championships

Summary: Every Christmas the Norris siblings take part in a Mario Kart Championship. This year they have a rookie joining them who happens to be an exceptional player. In other words, how Oscar ruined Christmas…

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

w/c 2484

a/n inspired by the sonic video mclaren posted. idek what this is but it was fun so 🤷‍♀️

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

The hardest thing for Oscar to adjust to when integrating into the Norris family was just how competitive they were. There were 5 siblings, all rather close in age, who had grown up competing with one another. It was in their blood.

Y/N had warned him before he came home for Christmas. Every Christmas without fail, they held the Norris sibling annual Mario Kart Championships. The middle child was currently the reigning champ 3 years running. She intended to keep her streak going. Lando was going to make sure that didn’t happen if it killed him. For at least a month he had been shit talking, adamant he was going to take the trophy this year. The trophy being a horrible homemade thing Flo had made when she was 8.

Oscar was moving in silence, but he too was planning to dethrone Y/N; take the glory away from his own girlfriend.

Their flight was long. Straight after the season ended, Oscar and Y/N had flown to Australia to have somewhat of an early Christmas with his family. It was nice, a needed break after such a long season. Plus, he always enjoyed spending time with his family seeing as he didn’t get to do it often. Then after 2 weeks down under, they headed over to Somerset to spend the remaining holidays with the Norris’.

It was a slight shock to the system, going from such a hot Christmas to such a cold one, but at least it was cosy.

The trash talking started almost immediately. Y/N was the last sibling to arrive, so she had missed a good portion of it. Almost all of it was aimed towards her now, and the newbie.

“Hope you brought the trophy back because that’s mine this year.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish, mate.”

Lando was just about to open his mouth again when their mum called for them to be quiet. It was clear how much they wanted to get things started as soon as they walked through the door, but as per Cisca’s rules, they had to at least spend an hour or 2 with their parents before they let the games begin. The anticipation was killing them.

Usually she would try to spend as much time with them as she could considering how little she saw some of them during the year, but they were quickly getting on her nerves. Within an hour she’d had enough. “Okay, go play your stupid game.”

There was a chorus of cheers. The eldest and the youngest rushing to set it up. Lando kissed his mother’s cheek dramatically. “Thank you, love you!” And then he was gone from sight too. Oscar watched them all scurry away in disbelief. He didn’t believe Y/N when she had said this whole thing was very serious.

“It’s game time, Piastri.”

The older woman rolled her eyes, giving Oscar a look that said she pitied him. “Good luck.”

Things moved fast. Faster than he anticipated. Oscar and Cisca were up first. They selected their characters, modified their cars, picked the tracks and then they were off. It was best of 3. Most points wins and moves onto the next stage.

Sort of as expected, Oscar won. A clean victory. All 3 games were his to win and poor Cisca was left pouting, handing her controller over to her sister. The Aussie wasn’t a boasting winner. He congratulated her efforts and shook her hand. Everything a good sportsman should do. But Cisca was still a sore loser. She was the baby after all.

She crawled into Y/N’s arms with a frown, muttering something about her boyfriend being mean. The elder of the 2 just laughed. He was fitting into the family just fine.

Another victory for Oscar meant he would be in the final, with his opponent yet to be decided. This win wasn’t as easy. Flo won the first round in a shocking twist after a rather rude red shell was thrown (she wouldn’t admit it with her). Neither won the 2nd, but Oscar placed better, evening out the playing field a little. But in the end he won the final race after she struggled, securing his overall win. He was starting to see why they all enjoyed this so much. He definitely expected more arguments though. Him and his sisters would have been scrapping on the floor by now.

Ollie and Lando were up next. Only due to an intense match of rock, paper, scissors between Y/N and the oldest to see who would race Lando.

When she lost she huffed. “Next time, Norris.” And that could be taken as a threat.

Irritatingly. Lando won all 3 rounds against his brother. It only inflated his ego more. They had all really thought Ollie would have put up more of a fight. He certainly wasn’t happy about having lost. “Fucking rigged,” he muttered.

Then it was the round she had been waiting for. Her vs Lando. She was out for blood.

“You’re going down.”

He did nothing but hold up a middle finger in her direction. If only their mother could see. He would be disqualified immediately.

They picked their characters. The same ones they’d had since they started this Championship back in 2010. Lando as Koopa Troopa. Y/N as Princess Peach. This was a match that usually ended in tears for someone.

Lando held out his hand to shake hers. A ‘promise’ to race clean. Only when she went to place her hand in his, he quickly ripped it away. It was something he would do as a child and clearly he had never grown out of the habit. She rolled her eyes. Even after all these years, when she would probably consider them friends, he still managed to get under her skin. He might be a world famous athlete, but he was always an annoying older brother first.

There was a chorus of ‘oo’ and then a quick pep talk from Oscar. “You got this, baby.” He squeezed her shoulders and she let out a breath. She was gonna kick his ass.

Round 1 was neck and neck. Full of nudging, thrown shells and muttered insults. In the end they came first and second, with Y/N just coming out on top. It was a wonder they hadn’t crossed the line at the same time with how close together they were.

Round 2 was much of the same. Until Lando got a sudden lead out of nowhere. She wasn’t happy, understandably. She had a reputation to uphold. A blue shell fell into her hands at just the right time.

The evil smile on her face was seen by Oscar first, who then nudged the youngest Norris beside him.

“Uh oh. You’re in trouble, Lan.”

The briefest of glances towards his sister was his downfall. As was the shell she fired towards him that slowed him down a few seconds. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to allow her an overtake.

She sat up in her seat, beginning to grow excited at the idea of winning a second race in a row. Crossing the line in 1st, with her brother ending in 3rd was a victory like no other.

There was an eye roll from him. He knew there was no chance of him winning now, but he was delusional enough to try anyway.

She was enjoying it far too much. “It’s okay to give up, Lan. You’ll be brave if you just admit defeat.”

The curly-haired man scoffed. “Yeah, not a chance.” He pressed play on round 3 before she even had a chance to laugh.

This round, he wanted to win. One win was better than none. He was going to do everything in his power to get that win. At one point his methods included reaching over and shoving the controller in her hand. Understandably she almost dropped it. Which apparently justified her standing on his foot.

Their referee stepped in at that point. Playing dirty had been banned in the Championship for years now. A particularly nasty incident during Christmas ‘14, saw Y/N with a couple broken fingers and Lando with a concussion after an angry tussle. Their mother had stepped in at that point and insisted either they played clean and safe or she was putting an end to it entirely.

“Hey, no out of game sabotage. You know the rules.” Ollie sounded very ‘oldest sibling’ right now.

The only current finalist found it rather amusing that there was a whole set of rules they must have laid out at some point, probably after far too much cheating. Lando was a big culprit. He didn’t even need confirmation, he just knew.

It felt like only seconds before she was winning the 3rd race. She felt nothing but pure joy. What feeling was better than beating your sibling at something?

“Lost again, Lando!” She was overjoyed. He might be a world class, full time racing driver, but he was so shitty at Mario Kart that his baby sister could beat him and that was all that mattered to her. “How many years in a row is that now?” She held her hand up to her ear in wait.

The man grumbled. Cisca wasn’t the only sore loser in the family. “Whatever. You’ve still got to go against Osc yet.”

Her gaze fell to her boyfriend, who was just getting up to take his teammate’s place in the hot seat. “I’ll go easy on you, lover boy.” Her win streak had her feeling extra cocky.

Oscar didn’t say anything, just smiled and sat up a little straighter. That should have been a sign. He wasn’t going easy on her. This was the final. He was in it to win it. That trophy was going to be his.

And he didn’t even break a sweat. His demeanor remained calm. Unbothered. Meanwhile Y/N was pouring everything she had into these 3 races. She had beaten Lando with such ease. Yet she couldn’t seem to even worry Oscar. He had too much confidence in his ability. He knew he was going to win. And she was probably never going to let him play this game with her again.

3 races. 3 wins. An overall winner.

Oscar Piastri had just won the Norris sibling Mario Kart Championship upon his debut.

He tossed the controller onto the couch and threw his arms up in the air. ”Ha! Yeah. Suck it, loser.”

All 5 of the siblings stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. They had never seen Oscar so expressive. All because he was rubbing his win in his girlfriend’s face. The whole time he hadn’t said much. Had played fair, hadn’t trash talked, congratulated those he beat regardless. It was all coming out now. Clearly he had cared more than he let on. No one really knew what to say.

It wasn’t until he realised all the attention was on him that he stopped. His cheeks flamed and he sort of shrank in on himself.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He sat back down, shuffling awkwardly in the silence. If only the ground would swallow him up so he didn’t have to keep living this moment. Time travel would be the only thing that could save him from this embarrassment.

Lando was the first one to break the silence, laughing loudly. Everyone else jumped at the sheer volume of it. “That was brilliant.” He didn’t know if he was happier because Oscar had finally gotten lost in the moment instead of his head. Or because someone had brought his sister’s reign to an end. Dethroning her himself would have been more satisfying, but at least it was done. Her trust had been betrayed by someone she loved. It was evil but it was amazing at the same time. “You sure told her, mate.”

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

The damage was done in Y/N’s eyes. Not only had he stolen her trophy and title, but he had rubbed it in too. She thought he loved her.

She said nothing, just got up and left the room. The siblings had seen all of this before. If he thought Lando and Cisca were sore losers, he had another thing coming with her.

He turned to them with a desperate look in his eyes. “What do I do?”

Lando patted his back. “Nothing. You’re fucked.”

There were nods from other parts of the room. “I’d consider yourself single now.”

By the time they went to bed that night, Y/N still hadn’t said a word to him. He was outright terrified.

Laid in bed, side by side, he found himself missing her touch, their closeness. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted to talk mindlessly about anything that came to mind. The silence was killing him. What else was he meant to do?

“I said I’m sorry.”

She grumbled, shrugging off the affection. Now that the embarrassment had died down, he could see the funny side to it. He never knew she was such a sore loser. He grinned, nosing at her cheek as he silently asked for a kiss. There was zero chance he was getting one.

A sigh, followed by more silence. Oscar couldn’t believe how seriously she was taking this defeat. The handmade trophy sitting on her desk, not for her this time, definitely wasn’t helping the situation.

There was no way he was letting her fall asleep while she was still angry at him. His only other option was to be so annoying that she physically couldn’t ignore him. So he climbed on top of her, putting almost all of his bodyweight onto her.

She huffed. “Get off.”

She might be stubborn, but he could be just as bad. “Nope. Not until you talk to me, or forgive me.”

With a big exhale, she turned on her back. Her eyes darted to him with somewhat of a glare. “You cheated. I can’t forgive a cheater.”

“At Mario Kart?” Oscar scoffed. “I did not cheat.” He knew that for a fact. She just didn’t want to admit he had been better. “I won fair and square.”

This side of Y/N was new to him, but he knew he was going to enjoy bringing it out of her more often. Much like her brother did.

“Fucking child racing prodigy,” she mumbled.

Oscar laughed loudly. A full, belly laugh. Some people might find such competitive behaviour annoying, but it only made her more attractive to him. He adored every inch of her. “Oh, I love you.” Sometimes it was overwhelming.

Her eyes rolled. “Whatever.”

She was still so bothered that it made him chuckle. “Love you.” His voice was louder this time. More amused. There was a smile creeping onto her face that she was desperately trying to stop.

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

[bullbous]

I think the Player deserves to freak the freak out actually xx

part 2 | part 3

The proverbial straw was Skips. 

You had gotten along well enough these past few days, talking of intimate and personal things just before bed, and you really did like him! But, rationally, you were worried he (magically anthropomorphised shadow) might truly have the ability to render you into shadow and so gently declined his offer. 

His outburst, sudden and aggressive, left you slack jawed. His twinkish form melted away and out from the shell crawled a massive, cold creature that laughed loud enough to leave a ringing in your ears. Skip’s poured back into the globes shadow and you just stared, a mind emptied in shock, long enough that the Dateviators beeped a warning and went dead leaving you to simmer in quiet frustration. 

You prepared for bed slowly, methodically, using the silence to quell your anger. It’s fine, you thought, scraping your toothbrush against your teeth. It’s cool, you whisper into the still air.  If you all lived in this house together it’s best to approach these disagreements with a level head - so Skip’s can have his outburst, in fact, all of them are owed a tantrum or two! You could ignore how absurd it was for a human being to bow to the odd, needling tempers of household objects and broad concepts! Skylar's Suspension of Disbelief relied on it! 

When you woke, you decided to try your very best and deal with your new friends with kindness and a level head. 

Your good will was not rewarded. 

So far you’d spent a miserable day; splitting yet another screaming match between Harper and Dirk, falling out with Dante with misplaced honesty, arguing with Dishy over internet access, and Arma declaring her hatred for you for not trusting her (always) blaring alarm. It’s safe to say you were a little tense. 

But you held onto your patience with an iron, bruising grip. Like a saint, you thought, as you approached the ever looming shadow.

With one last charge on the Dateviators, you had hoped that Skips would have long since calmed down and prepared an apology for his outburst, open to repairing the mere fracture in your budding relationship. With a deep breath, you focused the beam onto the shadow, and like a smoke bomb Skips burst forth in a cloud of grey and blue with cawing laughter.

“Skips-” You start, hoping to pause his dramatics, but he interrupts you with such volume you take a step back in shock. 

“Remember, I’m always watching!” 

"Let's figure this ou-!"

"FWA HAHAHA!!"

You scream, good and loud, frustration bubbling up like popped champagne.

“God dammit it!” You damn near pull the hair from your scalp, before pointing at Skip’s looming body with a stiff and shaking finger, “You're screaming at me in my own damn house?! My house? Fuck this!”

You spin on your heel, bumping into Keyes who appears in your peripheral, scolding words at the tip of her tongue, but you scream again and her face falls to shock. You storm through your living room, faces popping out of thin air to witness the drama. Faces of people who had been difficult and passive aggressive and patronising and downright mean when you were just trying to exist in the house you pay for! Fuck this indeed, you think, muttering curses under your breath all the way as you pull a suitcase from under you bed and begin to stuff whatever you can reach inside. Betty kneels beside you, a soft hand reaching for your shoulder, “Sweetheart…”

You zip up with a flourish, scrambling to your feet with little dignity, and take a deep shuddering breath. 

“I am not going to sit in this house with inanimate objects who have a bad- no, any sort of opinion on me!” You shout, stumbling briefly with your suitcase before throwing it down the stairs with abandon.  You don’t watch it tumble down, you pull out your phone to order a cab, but Phoenicia stands before you with a worried look, “You're upset, I know, but there’s no need to leave.”

“Yes, dear,” Celia rounds the corner, startling you, and you notice again the crowd forming behind her on the tight landing, “Let’s all calm down and-”

You rip the Dateviators off. 

…Peace and quiet. 

The dull colours of your house were an instant relief. You hadn’t noticed that your heart was beating out of your chest so you sat on the top step with weary bones, throwing the glasses to the side with little thought. You couldn’t stay here a moment longer. Even with no glasses tinting your vision, you couldn’t ignore a hundred eyes watching your every move.

You ordered the cab, nothing to startle or interfere, and descended to the front door with heavy steps. It’s best to wait outside, you decide, perhaps the night air might chill some of the rage in your blood but when you place your hand on the knob it doesn’t budge. 

“Dorian,” You seethe, a voice so guttural you'd worry if you were in the right state of mind, "I'll jump through the office window, I really really will.”

You stare at wood grain, a silent test of will.  

Maybe it’s the vein popping on your forehead or the formidable grip you have as you rattle the knob that confirms to Dorian that you really do mean it, but as you turn for the office the front door clicks and creaks open. 

The night air did, in fact, soothe.

When a small, noisy drone tries your patience again it’s easy enough to rip in from the sky and stomp on it till screws and scrap remain. 

You need a few days to yourself, maybe a long weekend, no… a week should do. A week alone should do everyone some good.

[soopcak3]

Could you do a Dae-Ho smut please??🙏

yall are THIRSTY… but so am I sooo

Right Here?

Kang Dae-ho x Reader/smut🔥

Summary: Y/N wakes up from a spicy dream about a certain marine and decides to go visit him in the night.

warnings: smut obvi, face sitting, squirting

Fuck he looked so good on top of you. Gently thrusting in and out of your tight hole, talking you through it with soft praises as his big hands cupped your breasts. You were just about to finish when— you woke up. Your dream about Dae-ho awoke something inside you, literally and physically. You NEEDED him and you needed him now.

Y/N crawled out of her bed quietly, making sure not to wake up any of the other players in her vicinity. Light steps and racing thoughts of no one else but him.

She approached Dae-ho’s bed and tapped him on the shoulder, he didn’t quite wake up at first. Y/N grinned evilly and crawled on top of him, nibbling gently on the shell of his ear. That definitely woke him up.

“Y-Y/N—!” She quickly covered his mouth with her hand, “shhh.. I wanna feel you, right here, right now, pretty boy.. please?~” Y/N looked at him through her lashes, giving both an innocent and somehow sultry look. Dae-ho sighed quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Who am I to deny you, pretty girl?”

He gently pulled down her pants with his large, rough hands and brought her towards his face. “Sit down hon~” Y/N giggled quietly and sat on his face, letting out a soft moan. Dae-ho licked a gentle strip from her clit to her sensitive hole, looking up at her with loving eyes. “I’m gonna make you feel so good sweetheart..” he said before diving between her thighs, eating her out like a starved man.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, biting it to try and keep her sounds at bay. He swirled his tongue around her clit before diving it into her slippery hole. Dae-ho groaned softly against her sloppy cunt, sending sweet vibrations to her core. Y/N bucked her hips against his face, grinding against his wet tongue. He smiled and reached up, using his large fingers against her tiny, throbbing clit.

“Oh my—!” Y/N gasped out as she squirted all over his face and into his mouth. “I-I’m sorry I—“ Dae-ho ignored her and helped her ride out her orgasm, swallowing whatever secreted from her pussy. Once she was finished, he smiled up at her, “you did so good, pretty girl..” He sighed happily, caressing her thigh.

Y/N moved down to face him, looking deep into his eyes, “Dae-ho I.. once we get out of here, I want to start a life with you, okay..?” She admitted shyly. His face dropped with shock for a moment before returning with a beaming smile, “y-yea!! I’d love that!” Y/N held him close and he kissed her lovingly.

part 2 with ACTUAL smut perhaps?

[ashleybenlove]

Title: Ashfall

Prompt: Volcanic Eruption + Weather Whump + Dragon’s Edge

Summary: Right after the volcanic eruption in Shell Shocked Part 2.

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Word Count: 1468

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Dead Bodies

Disclaimer: I don’t own the source material in this fanfic. That’s to whatever company or person owns it. I would never claim to own it.

Notes: There are probable influences from fandom and whatnot in this story.  Written for @httydbingo HTTYD Bingo “Volcanic Eruption” and #10YearsRTTEWeek Alt Prompt: “Weather Whump” and June 25 – Day 1: “Dragon’s Edge”. Takes place directly after Shell Shocked Part 2. More notes on AO3.

AO3.

[ashleybenlove]

YEAH, TOOTHLESS!!!

Shell Shocked pt. 2 with one small difference

While flying over the ocean, Toothless makes Viggo lose the "saddle privileges" due to excessively annoying Hiccup

Ha! He just dumps him right into the ocean!

[summerrivera777777]

~You belong with me~ [C.K]

So this is my second David Corenswet Clark Kent fanfic hope you lovelies enjoy 🎀🫶🏼🎀~

Pairing: Possessive!Clark Kent x Innocent!Reader (Luna)
Genre: Tumblr-style Smut, Dark Romance, Possessive/Obsessive Male Lead
Warnings: NSFW, obsession, possessiveness, dominance, loss of virginity

Luna was the kind of girl who made the world stop.

Sweet as a strawberry milkshake, soft as a cotton candy cloud. She wore pastel bows in her hair, whispered please and thank you like it was instinct, and kept a dream journal hidden in her lavender-scented bedroom. She never cursed. Never drank. Never sinned.

So of course, Clark noticed her.

And once he noticed her… he never stopped.

She had no idea what she was doing when she smiled up at him that first time. Just a shy wave in the hallway of the Daily Planet, a tiny thank you when he held the door open. That was all it took.

He wanted her. All of her. Mind, body, innocence, soul.

So he took his time.

Clark wasn’t human. He didn’t need patience. He needed her. And tonight… he was done pretending.

“Clark…?”
Luna’s voice was small. Shaky. Her pretty pink pajama shorts barely covered anything. “W-Why are you in my apartment?”

He stepped forward, slow like a shadow, eyes glowing red for just a second. Then gone. He smiled, and it was devastating.
“I flew.”

She blinked.
“I—I didn’t know you were Superman…”

“I’m more than that, Luna.”

He was behind her in a second.

Hot breath on her neck. His hands slid around her waist, big and warm and firm. She froze.

“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, nose brushing the shell of her ear. “The way you walk. That little smile you give strangers. The way you touch your lips when you're thinking…”

Her breath hitched.

“I can hear your thoughts, Luna. I know you touch yourself sometimes. But only a little. Only when you can’t help it.”

Her face flushed red—full, innocent shock.

“Clark—!”

“You always stop. You’re too good. Too sweet. You say sorry to God even in your head,” he chuckled darkly. “But I’m not God, baby. I’m something else. And I’m here to ruin you.”

She gasped as he lifted her off the floor like she weighed nothing, laying her down on the bed she’d just made. Her ribbons tangled in his fingers as he gently tugged one loose.

“You’ve never been touched, have you?”

She shook her head. Teary, wide-eyed.

His eyes darkened. “Perfect.”

Clark was massive. Not just in strength, but everywhere. Her legs shook when he pushed between them, his fingers tracing her soaked panties.

“Already so wet,” he groaned. “Look what I do to you, pretty little Luna.”

She whimpered as he teased her, his fingers spreading her open with impossible gentleness for a man with hands that could crush stone. “This is mine now.”

Her thighs trembled as he leaned in, licking her like a starved man. When he finally slid inside—slow, inch by inch—she cried out, clutching his arms.

“I—I can’t…!”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured against her throat. “You were made for me. Look how perfect you fit. You feel like heaven, Luna. My heaven.”

He filled her, ruined her, worshipped her body while corrupting it all at once. His praise never stopped.

“So tight… so warm…”

“My sweet little virgin…”

“You belong to me now, Luna. Say it.”

“I—I belong to you…”

“That’s right, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

AFTERCARE

Hours later, Luna was wrapped in Clark’s arms, trembling and full of him in every way. Her body ached, her heart thundered.

He kissed her temple.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll watch over you.”

She blinked up at him. “You’re not leaving?”

His eyes glowed faintly red again. “Never. You’re mine.”

Would you like a part 2 with jealousy, pregnancy kink, or more dark Clark obsession? 😈💙❤️😉

[revelboo]

Can we get a part 2 to the es soundwave reunion fic? I wanna see what happens next please

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Reunion Pt 2

ES Soundwave x Reader

• Servos sliding to trace the delicate shell of your ear, Soundwave vents slowly. Curled around your warmth, he listens to your slow breathing as you sleep. Shouldn’t need this, need you. Aware that this makes him a hypocrite, weak just like Megatron. Mouth brushing your neck, opening in a soft bite, you make a sleepy noise and shift against him. “Morning,” you mumble on a yawn, and he bites just hard enough to leave the faint impression of his denta on you and make you gasp. Because every time you do something cute like that, he wants to bite.

• He’s awake already and you groan a protest as he shifts you onto your belly and covers you. Toes curling as his spike slowly stretches you and he’s pinning your hips down, thighs spread wide to accommodate his hips as he moves in rough surges against you, rocking more than thrusting. Bracing himself on his arms, you hear him snarl as his hips curl against you as he rumbles loudly.

• Jaw clenched as he rocks urgently into your wet heat, he groans. “You’re mine to keep,” he snarls, feeling you squirm under him. His to claim, fill, bond. Getting rougher at that thought, more urgent. Wanting it, to bond you, spark you. Doubts he even can, but he’ll enjoy trying. Over and over again. Because no one’s ever taking what’s his from him again. “Only mine.”

• Fingers fisting in your blankets, you can’t move the way you need to as he ruts against, frustratingly shy of reaching the finish line and you groan when he slides an arm under your upper body and bends you back slightly while his spike is stretching you and his chassis brushes you. “What are you doing?” You groan, feeling his plating shift. And heat and warmth spears into you so suddenly you’re gasping.

• Overloading inside you as you tremble against him, he’s frozen in shock. Because he didn’t really think he could, thought there wasn’t anything to bond to, but there you are. Your fragile light struggling inside his own, and he reaches, stroking through you and bits of you bombard him. A much younger you reaching out both hands as someone places a stuffed animal in your arms and a big hand presses against the top of your head, ruffling your hair as you giggle. A different memory, you excited about the sound of a car coming up the driveway, but the woman in the dress by the counter is on edge, turning away. Upset. Older now, bent over working on a car engine, humming to yourself. And you break away from him, trying to keep your secrets as he arrows after you. Because he needs more. Needs all of it, all of you.

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