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maybege · 4 months

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What If - Part 4

Summary: Mandalore approached and you cannot help but feel like something is about to go terribly wrong.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.2k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), (semi-)public sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, knotting, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise kink, Angst with a capital A, fluffy fluf

As we say in German “Was lange wärht, wird endlich gut” which is what I am using as my excuse for why this took so long. The truth is: depression is a bitch, real life is a bitch and creativity and time for writing are like the same side of two magnets that do not want to even go near each other. Anyway, we made it!!!

There are a few people I gotta thank for this. First and foremost the iconic, the brilliant @mostly-megan who not only suffers through all the random AU ideas I have (and there are a LOT of them) but also brainstorms with me. The Ragnar Scene and also a very (very!) lovely scene towards the end of this part would not exist without her and for that, I am very grateful. Then, of course, the ever-present, ever-lurking genius that is the Boba Tea Anon who is in the Paz trenches right there with me and encourages me in everything I do (even if it is just a – I promise one day I will do a Lord Huron Paz piece!). Also, a very special shout out to Neyo (@galacticgraffiti) who gave the Mando kids their names, suffers through The Horn Knee with me and is always there to cheer me on. And then, of course, all you Paz girlies (gn) who make me feel like a sane person while I ramble about a faceless man who appeared for a total of 23 minutes (if that) and is – canonically – dead anyway. You make sharing my writing worthwhile in the first place and I will be forever grateful for getting to share my writing with you.

And with that – on to the last part (and the new canon for me lol). Please let me know what you thought in a comment or a reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was a certain impatience to him you had not expected at the last meal. When the announcement came that you were approaching Mandalore, Paz – who had spent the dinner between you and Ragnar – had pulled you into his lap, his arms like iron around your body. Ragnar had wandered off to the front with all the other foundlings, expectantly looking up at the clan leaders.

You had turned your face into Paz’s neck, trying to get his scent on you. You could not believe how you had only known this man for a few days – a week, at most! – and yet his scent was the only thing that seemed to calm you down. And it was no different for him.

The alpha’s hand immediately found your scent gland and you shivered as the soft leather brushed over your skin. It did not take long until he pulled his gloves off, settling them into your lap, before resuming his motions.

The nervous energy in the room was palpable but it was practically radiating off him and it inevitably affected you as well. Where you had been excited, if a bit reluctant, a few weeks ago at the prospect of reclaiming Mandalore, now there was only a strange sense of dread in your stomach. One that even the alpha could not dissolve.

“When you wake up tomorrow, some of us will set foot on our homeland for the first time in too many years,” Briggs announced, his serious gaze roaming over the packed hall, “I cannot promise you it will be easy. I cannot promise we will all wake up to the sight of Mandalore. But we will die trying.”

You could see Ragnar looking back at his father who tilted his head. A gesture meant to be reassuring but only resulted in you questioning whether Paz would be one of those dying. You shifted nervously, causing Paz to tighten his hold on your waist.

“Calm down, love,” he rumbled quietly behind you, “It will be alright.”

Forcing yourself to nod, you gripped his large hand tightly, trying to burn into your brain what it was like to touch him,

“Rest well and rest assured that tomorrow will mark the start of a brand new era,” Briggs raised his glass, “And let us toast to our home!”

“To our home!”

Everyone lifted their glasses and the conversations resumed, a constant background roar that reminded you of the countless fates that were tied to the success of this mission. A strange feeling started in your chest, and not the kind that Paz’s presence usually caused.

You shifted again, watching as the crowd dissipated and the foundlings were walked off to bed. Their excited chatter moved down the hall and something cold clenched your heart when you watched Ragnar wave at his father.

Immediately everything quieted down. With everyone returning to their own conversations and the hall being considerably more empty now, Paz did not waste any time. His hands landed on your thighs and you managed a wobbly smile.

“What is going on in your pretty head?” he asked you, his fingers skimming over your thighs, “You’ve been squirmy all evening.”

“Who says something is on my mind?”, you popped a berry into your mouth, grimacing at the sudden sour taste.

“True,” he laughed, “You might have just spent dinner thinking about when you can finally sit on my cock again.”

“Paz!” you gasped, “you cannot – I mean – what if –“ You glanced around with flushed cheeks, relieved to see that no one had seemed to hear his indecent theory.

He laughed again and the sound made your heart and body melt. “I will never tire of making you flustered,” he murmured, his big hands pulling you closer, “Though I actually would not mind having you cockwarm me tonight, sweet omega,” his fingers brushed the underside of your breasts and you shivered, “I would be lying if I said I could ever get enough of you.”

“I actually had something similar in mind,” you admitted shyly, slipping off his lap and enjoying the way his hands followed you and his body leant into you. As if he wanted to keep touching you, as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled.

“I … would like to try something?”

He leant back, his legs spreading with the movement and your teeth dug into your bottom lip at the sight of the obvious bulge in his pants. “Oh yeah, omega, and what would that be?”

You made a few steps away, making sure that your robe (a dark blue, just like his armour) swished around your form as enticingly as possible. Paz’s head turned to follow your movement from your place in front of him to a chair in a dark alcove, dressed in shadows where you knelt down right in front of it.

The big alapha hummed, rising to his feet, knowing exactly what it was you had in mind. “I think I can get behind that idea.”

From the other sounds that were floating through the cantina, you knew that illicit things were already well underway. Most of them likely more graphic and adventurous than what you had in mind. Still, you felt a little nervous at the prospect of sucking Paz Vizsla’s cock.

But for some reason, this was exactly what you needed. You wanted to bring him pleasure, so much pleasure.

You watched as he pulled off his cape, folding it expertly before motioning for you to stand. He dropped it on the floor, his hand steadying your elbow as you sunk down on the soft fabric. “Don’t want you uncomfortable,” he announced, before sitting down in the chair.

He looked big like this, bigger than usual. And oh so confident it already made your panties wet. His knees spread, the trunks he called thigh caging you in and you watched with bated breath as his fingers undid his codpiece, expertly freeing his cock.

He was already hard and dripping precome, the knot at the base slightly inflated and you squeezed your thighs. It was not like you had never seen his cock before and it certainly was not as if he had not fucked you before. Yet, the sheer size of him and the thought of taking him in your mouth overwhelmed you a little.

Where were you supposed to start?

But when one big rough hand closed around his shaft and Paz started to jerk off right in front of you, you could not help but to simply … dive in.

Opening your mouth as far as it would go, you closed your lips around his tip, one hand struggling to fit around him. The grunt he let out, paired with a twitch of his hips, had you smiling around him.

“Stars above,” he cursed, “Warn a man next time, won’t you, love?”

You looked up at him, teary-eyed, while your tongue licked the underside of him. Or at least the part you could reach. He was heavy in your mouth, heavy and big and he tasted of something that made you want more. Slowly, you moved forward trying to take more of him but soon enough, he bumped something at the back of your throat and you sputtered.

Before you could panic about breathing, Paz had pulled out of you, his large hand cupping your cheek while the other was still wrapped around the base of his cock. “Deep breaths, omega,” he soothed you, his hand leisurely stroking himself, “You are doing so good for, trying to take it all.”

“You’re so big,” you marvelled, wrapping your hands around him, “I want it all, alpha, I – Paz, I really want it all.”

“Want my help?” he asked, “Might have to be a little rougher, though, sweet omega, and I can smell how much that turns you on but I need you to tell me – Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly, darting your tongue out to lick at him. “I am sure, alpha,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip, “I promise.”

“If it is too much, tap my thigh three times, understood?”

You nodded again, shifting on your makeshift pillowed. Your thighs were already drenched at this point and you wondered whether you could come just from sucking him off. It seemed like you would be able to do a lot of things when it came to Paz.

His grip on your face loosened just the tiniest bit. “Open up for me,” he ordered, pulling your face towards him, “There we fucking go. Gorgeous.”

“I will never tire of this sight,” he groaned, “You struggling to take my size, trying to be so good for me,” he shifted, his hips surging forward and you smiled with pride when you did not gag this time, “Can I go deeper, love? Is that okay?”

With your position between his legs, your jaw wide open around him, you could not really nod. But Paz seemed to recognize the excited twinkle in your eye because you could hear the grin in his voice when he muttered a “Stars, you’re perfect.”

You took great care to keep your breathing even and through your nose, experimentally swirling your tongue around him every time he pulled out of your mouth. His thrusts grew heavier, his hold on you tighter and you swore you were this close to coming just from the sheer sight of his shaft covered in the sheen of you.

It was not long before he came in thick spurts on your tongue. You struggled to swallow it all, your throat working overtime as you did your best to swallow around him. “Good girl,” he praised you, “My good fucking girl.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as you licked him clean, not quite ready to let go of this intimacy.

His hand came to your chin, gently scooping up some of the come that had spilt from your lips. “Here you go,” he offered his coated thumb and you sucked the digit into your mouth without hesitation. You could never get enough of his taste.

“Let’s retire for the night, love,” he suggested, “We have a long day ahead of us.”

By the time you got settled in your bunk, you knew it was only a few hours before everything would start. Before you had to say goodbye.

Paz had excused himself, leaving you to get ready for bed alone before he appeared by your side, dressed completely in his armour.

“Are you okay?”

“Said goodbye to Ragnar,” he explained, sitting down on the little cot, hunching his shoulders over so he would not hit his head.

“Oh.”

Somewhere behind the curtains, someone snored.

Paz grunted when he laid down, his giant arm reaching out and pulling your back to his front.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, “It’s a tight fit.”

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, grunting when he pulled the curtain closed, “I will not spend my last night without my calmer.”

“Aren't you uncomfortable?” you asked, your voice small, “With – with the armours and me and all the …”

“I will not spend my last night without my calmer,” he repeated, leaving no room for doubt. It took a bit of shuffling to turn you around but when you finally were facing him, you already felt much better. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent as he wrapped both arms around you.

Your heart was squeezing so hard in your chest that the emotional pain became physical.

What if this was his last night? What if you would never see him again?

And what if you did? Would it ever be like this again? Would he want to keep you as his calmer (or more?) when Mandalore was finally reclaimed?

Paz shifted, his large hands running over your back until one settled at the back of your neck.

“I got you,” he rumbled, “You’ll be safe, omega, I promise.”

You swallowed away the need to tell him that it wasn’t your safety you were worried about.

The next morning was worse. It barely qualified as morning and you were sure you had not found any sleep. You had just been shifting all night from side to side, desperately burying your nose in his neck to soak up every little bit of his scent that he could give you.

You were not sure if Paz had slept either but when the alarms sounded in the room at the same time, it took him a minute to get up. Everyone was shuffling around the packed room silently, most of them already dressed and armoured. Ready to descend to the surface of Mandalore.

Despair was clawing at your insides. You felt like you were watching something from the outside that you knew would fail. That you knew would destroy everything you held close to your heart.

And yet, you watched helplessly as they lined up, preparing to board the ship that would take them into the atmosphere.

It was silent – eerie – as if everyone knew something big was about to happen. And you couldn’t move from his side. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. You needed to be here with him.

You watched as Paz double-checked his weapons and your mouth quirked up as you remembered how the man had seemed like a weapon on his own the very first time you had seen him. And how true it was, now that you saw guns and rifles packed to every piece of his armour that could carry it.

Your smile fell just as quickly as it had appeared. Would this be the last time you got to see him?

You had been scared a lot of times in your life. Like when your parents had taught you how to swim and you had been convinced you would sink to the bottom of the sea. Or when you had taken a bad fall in one of the hiding places and scuffed your knee. But that childish fear of creatures and heights was nothing compared to the existential dread that settled in your stomach.

It wasn’t fear that something could go wrong it was fear that you knew something was going to go wrong.

And could you really risk this?

“You, uh, you will come back, right?” you whispered, already hating how needy you sounded. But you needed to hear him say it. You needed Paz Vizsla’s words to be the ones to tie you to the hope of a future together.

“Someone already scared for me?” Paz tilted his head and while you knew this was supposed to be a joke, his voice did not sound very light. Like he knew it too. That feeling.

“Well, I mean you have Ragnar,” you shrugged, pulling the cloak closer around you, “And I mean your tribe needs you, you are a great warrior and –“

“Exactly,” he interrupted you gently. You watched as he approached you, his steps heavy and measured and you swallowed. “I am a great warrior,” he repeated with his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Which is why I will come back to you.”

“But –“

“Listen to me,” he whispered, his hand cupping the side of your neck, scenting you so gently your eyes fluttered close, “I vow to the stars, I will come back to you, love.”

That was the last thing he said to you before he boarded the ship.

If somebody asked you what happened during the time you were waiting, you would not be able to tell them. As soon as Paz embarked on the with the scouting group, it felt like time stood still. You barely knew what you were doing. You were pacing the entire length of the ship it seemed, Ragnar keeping you company for a few of those pacing trips before he distracted himself by playing with the other foundlings.

You tried to approach your feelings rationally. You had spent a lot of your time these past few days in close proximity with Paz. He was an alpha, you were an omega, obviously there were some biological components that could have contributed to your feelings for him.

But that was exactly it. Your feelings …

At the thought of Paz not coming back, it felt like your heart ripped into two. You could not fathom a world without him in it and, more importantly perhaps, you could not fathom your life without him in it. You wanted him to come back and when all the tribes settled in their parts of Mandalore, you wanted to be as close to him as now. You wanted to spend your evening with him and Ragnar and you wanted to know what his days were like, what his role was in his clan.

Whether he wanted to keep you in his life as well.

Waiting was pure torture. Communications were cut and all that remained was the cold silence of the ship. You avoided the cockpit and strategy meetings, Briggs (thankfully) seemed to understand your reluctance and did not press you on the matter. Until Axe Woves came to warn the ship of the Imperial that had settled on the planet and the fight that had broken loose.

That was the meeting you had insisted on attending, hoping that – in whatever capacity – the stoic alpha might drop some comments about the people on the surface.

“Is,” you swallowed, “Is he well?”

The beskar-clad man, much to your frustration, said nothing at all.

Which was not very helpful.

The fight continued and troops were dispatched and you stayed, keeping the foundlings safe and quiet. In fitful dreams, you heard yourself confessing your love to him just before he disappeared never to return again. You woke up with cold sweats until you crawled into his bunk, pressing your nose into his pillow and willing yourself to think of a future in which he came back to you unharmed.

Sometimes, you could hear Sluice and Chants converse about what to do if it all failed. Whether to settle back in Nevarro was another possibility or if the tribes should stick together to find a new home.

All you could think was that you would not leave Paz on this planet.

You could not leave him.

It was morning when the announcement came. You had buried yourself in his cot, his sheets pressed to your nose as you took trembling breaths when the PA system stuttered to life, the mechanical voice echoing through the empty hallways.

You had retaken Mandalore. The air was breathable and you could safely land on the surface to meet the victorious troops.

The joy and excitement that spread through your entire body could not be described. Nothing could happen to wipe the smile off your face as you frantically searched for the one good dress you wanted to wear when you saw Paz again. You wanted to please him and kiss him and tell him you loved him. And maybe, if you were very lucky, he loved you too.

Stars, how you hoped he would.

But that elation stopped short when you set foot onto Mandalore. You could not even look at the surrounding landscapes, the fallen home of your ancestors – when you spotted the group but no Paz. A quick glance around did not reveal him either and suddenly the feeling of dread was back again.

Briggs was standing there too, and you knew the man long enough that when you saw his eyes getting glassy at your sight, he did not need to say anything anymore for the tears to fall.

This was it then.

You always wondered what it would feel like to live with a broken heart. Now you knew.

The pain in your heart was unbearable and you suddenly wished that you had never left the bunk this morning. That you were still curled up in his scent and his blankets without the knowledge that the alpha you wanted to spend your life with was dead.

“Where is my buir?” Ragnar asked somewhere behind you and you could hear it in his voice. How he tried to sound strong but he was just a child. A child without his father.

He made his way to the front and stopped by your side. You put your hands on his shoulder.

“I am sure he will be fine,” you assured him, not believing your own words, “He – he must have … another mission somewhere, right?” you looked to Axe Woves who avoided your gaze, “Right?”

Ragnar grabbed your hand. “Bu said if he is late, I need to distract you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we're family,” he said it so effortlessly, “and because I know he will come back but you might worry and you shouldn’t worry.”

You were not sure what happened first: the stopping of your heart or the break in your breath. Paz told him you were his family? Ragnar considered you … his family?

“Do you wanna play a board game?” the boy asked and the breath rushed back into your lungs, “Bu taught me a few games for when I wait for him to come back.”

“He did?” you asked, your voice faint as you followed him back to where someone had set up a small open-air cantina at the ramp of the ship. You ignored the looks Briggs and Chants gave you. Ignored the way that Bo Katan bowed her head as if to pay respect to you as if you had something to mourn.

Not now, you told yourself as your heart cracked in your chest. Maybe tomorrow you could bury yourself in Paz’s bunk, breathing in his scent until there was nothing left but your own grief.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, Tomorrow I will know he is dead.

The sun was setting over the mountains and Ragnar made no sign of stopping the game anytime soon. He had patiently explained the elaborate card game to you before dealing the cards. And then he had continued to play with you the entire day. Sometimes, people joined you for a round or two. The first had been Din Djarin – the man with the green baby. He had not said anything but you could feel the sadness coming off him in waves.

Then there had been The Armourer who had stayed for only one round, occasionally speaking to Ragnar about his helmet ceremony (the first having been interrupted only a few weeks prior). She was followed by Sluice, Bo Katan and finally, Briggs.

“Mind if I join?” the older man had asked, only sitting down when you nodded.

“Not at all,” Ragnar spoke up, relieving you of the to find the energy, “Do you know the rules?”

Briggs had left after two rounds, his warm hand on your shoulder the only indication of what he had come here to say. My condolences for your loss.

The tears had burned hot in your eyes but you forced yourself to keep playing. Ragnar won most rounds and the one he did not, you were fairly sure he lost on purpose. “No worries,” he assured you with childish wisdom, “Sometimes it takes a little longer to get the rules.”

“That is okay,” you forced yourself to smile, “How about we take a break for some food?”

“Good idea!” the boy jumped up, “I will get some of the berries and you stay here and watch the cards!”

Before you could protest, he had raced to the small buffet table.

You both welcomed and feared the moment of solitude this afforded you. It allowed you to take a deep breath, to let your shoulders and your guard fall. Maybe even a few tears if you were quick about it. You did not want Ragner to see you like this. He seemed to be determined that his father was alive and well – that he would return – that you could not bear to be the one to break his heart.

“Bu!” Ragnar shouted and you whipped around immediately. It took you a moment to find Ragnar but when you did, he had his arms wrapped around the legs of a large man. A man dressed in dark blue armour.

“Paz,” you sighed, feeling tons lighter. Ragnar threw himself at his father who caught him though you did not fail to notice the way his legs almost buckled.

Stars he was hurt.

A new wave of panic washed over you and you did not realise you had stood up until the stoll toppled behind you. Several pairs of eyes were on you but you only cared about one.

Paz set Ragnar down and whispered something to him. You watched as the boy nodded, skipping off to Din and the Armourer. And then Paz walked towards you. Though walk seemed too weak a word for the way his heavy steps came closer and closer, his looming figure soon right in front of you.

Paz was right in front of you.

“You,” he growled, taking your hand without slowing his stride, “Come with me.”

“Paz, what happened?” you asked, trying to look him over, “Are you hurt? Did – Were those Imperials we spotted on the radar? Axe Woves and Briggs and – oh stars, we need to get you checked out and wait – are you bleeding? Where does it hurt maybe I can –“

A door swished open and you glanced around in confusion. This was not the infirmary. This was not even a proper room if the cleaning supplies on the shelves were anything to go by.

“Paz, you need – oh!” your hands gripped his shoulders tightly when he lifted you onto a surface. Was it a table? A counter? Stars, you could not bring yourself to care. Not when he was standing in front of you, panting like he had the fight of his life behind him.

Which he probably did.

Your heart clenched again, from fear or joy you could not tell.

His large hand fiddled with your dress and with a rip, your entire front piece was hanging off you in tatters.

“Alpha,” you cried, moving your hands from his shoulders to his chest, “Alpha, are you all right? I was so worried.”

The big man stepped between your open legs and you took a deep breath. The smell of adrenaline burned your nose but you could not help but notice the arousal that was in the air as well. He was angry and determined and the way he did not even look at his hands when he tugged on his belt made you glad you were already sitting down.

“Keep calling me that and I will be,” he grunted, opening the snaps of his armour and finally his fly.

Your eyes were fixated on his hand around his cock. “Pull down your dress,” he instructed instead, “I want to see your tits.”

You hurried to do so, almost ripping the fabric entirely in the process but you could not care less. Not when you had your dream of an alpha standing between your open legs, getting ready to fuck you. The ruined fabric pooled around your hips and the cool air made your nipple pebble. But then Paz was right there, the bulk of his body between yours and you could feel his cock against the inside of your thigh.

He pushed the tip of his cock against your folds, slowly circling your clit and you whimpered. Why did everything he did feel so good? “Ready?” he asked, spreading your wetness around and you found yourself wishing that you could see. That you could see how big he was against you, how his hand gripped himself, how his brows might furrow in determination and the set of his lips as he pushed inside you.

But you could not have everything in life. And for this moment, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls was enough. He was here, he was alive and he made you feel so stars forsaken good.

“Fuck,” you sighed, “Paz …”

“That’s good, huh?” he grumbled, slowly pulling out before pushing back in. You could feel your walls ease around him, your juices covering his shaft and the gland on your neck pulsed with the need to have him scent you.

He remained still for a few moments and you took a deep breath, breathing him in again and trying to get yourself to realize that he was alive. Your alpha was alive.

Paz started to move, then, and slowly pushed inside you again before building up a steady rhythm that had him deep, deep inside you. And all you could think, between bouts of pleasure, was that he was alive. Paz was alive.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you gripped the edge of the table, overcome with emotion, “A-alpha, I was so scared. “

A particularly hard thrust had your hands fly around his neck. “I was protecting you,” he replied, his voice shaking, “You were never in any danger, omega, I would not allow it.”

“I wasn’t scared for me, you di’kut,” you cursed as you hastily wiped away the tears streaming down your face, “I was scared for you!”

Paz grunted at your admission, pushing inside you again and pulling you as close as he could with the armour in the way. “And I was scared of never seeing you again,” he confessed into the darkness between your faces, “That I was breaking my promise to you.”

“Wh-What,” you gasped, feeling his cock grow inside you, “Alpha, what is happening?”

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, “Sorry, ‘mega, sorry, I didn't mean to – oh shit, love, you gotta stop squeezing me.”

Easier said than done. In fact, it seemed impossible. Because as soon as you realized that it was his knot swelling inside of you, all you could think about was what it would be like to be knotted by him. Which turned you on beyond belief.

The mental image of him filling you up to the brim, the giant size of him staying inside you, made your walls flutter and your high approach so much faster. Paz’s movements did not stop and you could feel the ring at his base growing and growing, catching on your entrance with every thrust and making you yearn to keep him inside.

“Alpha, will you – Can you – oh!” he hit that spot inside you again that made your blood sing and you fell back against the wall, completely at his mercy.

And then the light went out.

Your body tensed with fright and you squeaked, thinking something had gone horribly wrong. But Paz did not seem deterred and you faintly remembered that the light switch was somewhere on his side of the room.

There was a sound you could not pinpoint, followed by a loud clatter and then his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you to him and you squirmed at how he folded you in half, his cock still nestled deep inside you and then he was … kissing you.

You gasped, the feeling of his lips familiar against yours and everything you had dreamed of.

“Fuck it feels good to fill you up,” he murmured, the praise making your cheeks warm.

Your legs were still trembling around his hips and you tightened your hold around his neck. Your nose bumped against his scent gland. Add that to the feeling of his smile against your shoulder and even retaking Mandalore could never rival the feeling of being scented by him.

“That good, huh?” he teased you, his lips moving against your skin.

He had some stubble that tickled your sensitive skin and you gasped, the sensation opening you up even more.

And then he pushed inside you one last time as you came around him. The knot at his base swelled with no signs of stopping, locking you together as he filled you up. You shivered at the feeling of him twitching inside you, spurts of come filling you up in a way you had never experienced before, increasing the pressure inside you that made your walls clench. He continued to rut against you, causing your clit to rub against his pelvis again and again, prolonging your peak.

After what felt like an eternity, you came down from your high, relishing in the feeling of him still pulsing inside of you. It was strange, something you had never experienced before, but the closeness made you sigh contentedly against his lips.

Paz was quiet save for a few grunts, his hands grabbing your hips, keeping you as close as possible.

“I’ve never been knotted before,” you admitted between kisses.

“Really?” Paz asked, his mouth pausing on yours, “How does it feel?”

“It feels kinda nice, alpha,” you whispered, pulling his face closer to yours again.

Paz did not say anything for a moment, his laboured breath loud in the small room. Then his hands cupped your face and you could feel his eyes on you and you wondered if he was able to see you despite the darkness. Probably not, after all, it was his visor that usually enabled him to do so. But he made you feel seen with how his thumbs brushed over the apples of your cheeks, still wet with tear tracks or how his lips softly landed on yours.

“I don’t think I told you yet,” he said against your mouth, “But you are beautiful. To me, you are the – the most stunning omega I have ever seen. When I was down there – when I … I dreamt of what it would be like to see you with my own eyes.”

A flutter started in your chest. An awful flutter of hope that had you thinking of futures beyond the next few days. He could not mean what you thought he meant, right?

“But you helmet –“ you started, trying to rationalize away the hope in your voice.

But Paz had other plans. “I want to court you,” he said, sounding as determined as ever, “Stars, I want to properly court you, love, whatever that entails for your clan but I asked Briggs and –“

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure that I did everything right,” he explained, his hand warm on your back, “So I asked him about any customs I might have to know, that last night before we left and – and for a second there it looked like I would never get to ask you. But I can, love, I can ask you now. Will you let me court you, ‘mega? Will you let me spend the rest of my life with you and Ragnar and all the other foundlings the stars let us have?”

“You – you want children, too?” you asked, feeling like the breath was stolen out of your lungs, “M-more than Rganar, I mean?”

You could feel his smile against your neck, the tip of his nose buried in the valley beneath your ear. “Course I do,” he confirmed, “Ragnar is the biggest gift of my life, I won't say no to that joy again.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest and you could feel your walls clench around him. Paz moaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Is that a yes, then?” he asked carefully, his hand wandering up to cup the back of your neck. He moved away from you,

“Yes,” you breathed out with the biggest smile on your face, “Yes, Paz.”

The scent that surrounded you made you euphoric and you realized that it had been Paz all along. That sweet scent that made your heart beat faster and a smile appear on your lips? Paz fucking Vizsla.

“Open your eyes, mesh’la,” he asked you quietly, his breath warm on your face, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

And you did. Your eyes blinked open and it took you both an eternity and a second to get your eyes used to the seemingly blinding light of the storage room. But then your eyes met his and you saw Paz Vizsla for the first time.

He had dark eyes, just like you had daydreamed, and his hair looked just as soft as it had always felt. It was matted to his forehead in places and he looked … exhausted, like he had not slept in days. There were bruises on his cheekbones and you could see some dried blood and dirt on his jaw. But all of that was overshadowed by the brightest, biggest grin on his face.

It made the corners of his eyes crinkle and you could not help but smile back, absolutely in awe of the man in front of you. What were you supposed to say the first time you saw the face of the man you had fallen hopelessly in love with?

“You are handsome,” is what you settled on finally, carefully brushing your fingertip over his crooked nose.

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Thank you, my love,” he rumbled and your heart skipped a beat at him calling you his. Because you were, truly, whether you had realised it before or not, his.

“I love you,” you blurted out, feeling oddly shy.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “There is no version of this life in which I do not love you.”

“You will have to tell me about your scars,” you whispered, your eyes roaming over his face, catching on one that cut through his eyebrow, “Every single one.”

“I will,” he promised, kissing you again, “We have a lifetime for it.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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the-golden-comet · 4 months

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Does anyone ever read a piece of fiction and start crying because of how good it is? Because I’ve done that. Several times.

The greatest part about having mutuals who write fanfiction and original works, is that I get to see some of the most creative stories that I have ever seen. Stories that align with my interests, rather than check the box for required reading (though some was good, a lot of stories I’ve been required to read were not to the outstanding quality I’ve seen on AO3 and Goodreads)

To use an analogy, I think about indie authors like indie game developers and indie artists. Some of the best works of art come from a one man team, or a smaller team. Look at Stardew Valley, made by the incredibly talented ConcernedApe (aka Eric Barone). He did EVERYTHING pre 1.4, and because of the love, time, knowledge and dedication he put into his game, Stardew Valley became one of the highest rated, highest sold games in the indie genre.

Or another example you may be familiar with: Toby Fox of Undertale. Him and Tem were a two-person team. They captivated the hearts of so many people, that their game is now a staple in the gaming industry. Fox, and his musical prowess, has created iconic tracks that have broken through to mainstream media.

Vivienne Medrano, aka VivziePop, started her journey with web comics, namely Zoophobia, and has said it best in a podcast (paraphrasing here): “Advice: just get your art out there. Get it out there for the world to see.” And she did…with Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel. She’s now working with Maxwell Adams, the creator of Cartoon Network’s The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.

These were once one or two people teams. They all had a vision, a passion of what they do. A passion I see in all of these wonderful stories.

Writers, Artists, Creators of Wonderful Worlds….never stop creating. You can be more inspirational than anyone could ever imagine. Get your art out there. Get your beautiful hearts out there for the world to see. You have a gift to share, and that gift is your unique mind. 💫

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rebelpeas · 5 months

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dee rebelpeas is on her patreon arc

hi! do YOU want to support a fellow overachieving queer disabled artist for the low low price of $1USD per month? WELL fantastic news: you now can give me money!

in addition to behind-the-scenes patreon-exclusive posts sharing wips, speedpaints, and monthly art dumps, you will also be able to see the process within my beautiful mind as i hop from one artistic endeavour to another. because, yes, this art is not limited to exclusively drawings. you’ll also find creative writing, poetry, maybe an essay or two, textile arts and patterns, video game development, minecraft coding, skin design, and custom modeling, and literally anything else that may catch my interest for the next three months.

this also includes plenty of cool sick free downloads for you. wallpapers, game demos, modpacks, those icons for custom iphone homescreen layouts… you get the idea.

but wait, there’s MORE?? you also get first dibs on deciding what i draw: drawing requests, commission slots, and anything where i ask my audience for advice/suggestions will be opened on my patreon first. remember when i made dress-up games and picrews? when/if i make another one, my patrons will be able to suggest hairstyles, clothing pieces, and other accessories for me to add!

all that for JUST $1?! yup! but if you really want to, there is also a $5 tier. there’s no extra benefits, and all my patrons will be loved and adored equally. but if you want to give me five times the money out of the very goodness of your heart, who am i to stop you?

thanks everyone for all your support! bits aside, i appreciate you all so much and im so grateful for each and every one of you 🫶

#dee talks #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr

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whoishotteranimepolls · 7 months

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My observations part 2 there's been some developments

There have been some new developments in fandom behaviors and trends that have changed since my last post about this and since a lot of people have liked it, I'll give the curious people an update before I forget

I have noticed something about the Trigun fandom. I thought you all were just ride or die loyal however, if it's wolfwood holy crap! You guys give the unhinged trio a run for their money. Do you know how many times I've seen unhinged comments about his Catholic titties. And why is the Catholic part so important that it must be emphasized every time? Otherwise you all are still ride or die no matter the character. But I have found a streak of unhinged crazy that I apparently missed the first time around.

I know someone mentioned they wanted to see the Fairy Tail fandom mentioned so I will mention you. So are you alive Fairy Tail Fandom are you okay? Your characters do get requested with some frequency and some of them are pretty iconic but you guys just don't do anything except if it's Gildarts v Shanks. Because how many rematches are we on now because people like that specific matchup just so they can post the meme about Gildarts being Shanks from Temu. Otherwise characters don't do all that well. But I will say one thing. You guys are giving one piece a run for its money when it comes to cursed matchups. However, I'm sure it's a good thing. Remember people are very annoyed with that fandom on my blog

Soul Eater. What has gotten into you guys? If it's Stein the fandom is worse than the unhinged trio. Any other character? I never know what you guys will do

Fullmetal Alchemist you guys have finally exposed you're crazy! Her name is Olivier Mira Armstrong and the unhinged things said on those polls. She is now one of those characters I now question should I mark this as mature content because apparently some of you want to be stepped on by her amongst other things. Remember people I read basically everything that is put in the tags. And for those who doubt her power, as of me writing this, she's tied with Senshi in their poll.

The unhinged trio is still just as bad as ever for those who are not aware, that's the nickname I gave to Jujutsu Kaisen, Dorohedoro and Black Butler because those three fandoms collectively are just nuts. However, the unhinged trio may get a lineup change soon. So I'm going to break down the three of them since I've noticed some specific things about you guys so let's get into that

Jujutsu Kaisen I will give you one thing. You guys are creative when it comes to slutty nicknames I think that's the best way to put it. They're hilarious! I'll give you that. However, I think some of them have scarred me for life. So if you want to know why some of these slutty nicknames are getting shared in the poll reblogs it's because of you guys. But the nicknames some of them are unhinged. However, never change. Jujutsu Kaisen fandom your entertaining. If not, terrifying sometimes. However, without a doubt, this fandom belongs in the unhinged trio. You are the gold standard of the unhinged trio. Your feral unhinged madness cannot be matched by any other fandom.

Dorohedoro I'm wondering if you truly belong in the unhinged trio because I think your craziness only applies to Noi and not to the other characters. So I'm curious to see how this plays out over the next few weeks because as far as I'm aware there's only Three maybe four characters in that show Noi a blonde chick a blonde dude and a lizard. So we're going to see over the next few weeks if you all truly belong in the unhinged trio because there are some other fandoms that definitely are gunning for your position

Black Butler I also wonder if your craziness is fandom wide because you guys don't seem to care if Sebastian is in a poll, but if it's Undertaker or Grell holy crap the levels of insanity. So again, I will be testing to see if you truly are worthy of your spot in the unhinged trio

And I think the Senshi polls meme/trend has kind of died down. I haven't found a request in the inbox for a while and he has officially lost to Noi from Dorohedoro by a large margin and may lose but it'll be close to Olivier Mira Armstrong from Fullmetal Alchemist apparently we found his weakness strong, powerful women.

I hope everyone has enjoyed my second entry into my poll analysis series You can find part one here

#poll analysis #not a poll #fandom culture

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callivich · 8 months

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Just a reminder for anyone new or anyone who has been lurking:

I know it’s difficult coming into a new fandom but everyone in the Gallavich fandom on tumblr is very friendly and kind, so don’t feel nervous - just jump in and say hi.

Make an intro post and check the #gallavichintro tag to find fellow fans! Here’s the general Shameless version!

Like seriously just send a message or reply to a post. We’re here to have fun, the idea of new people is great because it means more engagement.

When I say people are nice, I mean it. I’ve been in so many different fandoms over 20+ years and this is genuinely the kindest group of people I’ve ever encountered online in a fandom space.

Give your blog an icon. People tend to assume that ones without are spam blogs and may block immediately. Here are some great icons you can use with credit: here / here / here

If you’d like a Gallavich banner for your blog, send me a message - I’d be so happy to make you one! I’ve got ones free to use here / here.

Please don’t steal gifs and repost them, here’s a great post explaining why and another one explaining why and how to use the gif search function! And another one explaining the gif search function.

Reblog content you enjoy and write in the tags or reply to the post - how much you liked something or if you have other thoughts…..creators love to hear this!

Use the tags. They’re the best way to get your posts noticed if you’re new- #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ianxmickey any or all of these will work. When you make a post, you should see a little grey box that says something like add tags to help people find your post, just type in there. (You don’t need to use the # symbol. Tumblr automatically does that.)

There are so many brilliant active communities that you can take part in - I’ve done a roundup post here & I will update it with new communities.

If you feel creative? Got for it. Don’t worry about what people think, just share your work. Write that fic or headcanon or meta, draw that art, create that gifset, design that aesthetic piece, share that playlist. Chances are that a lot of people will enjoy your work!

Don’t feel shy about promoting your work either - tag it with #gallavich & the tags mentioned above.

Recommend what you’ve enjoyed! There is no time limit on sharing links to fic, art, headcanons, gifsets, posts of any kind…..reblog/share what you love and keep sharing it. Whether it’s brand new or years old, sharing the work is great idea.

Go back and explore things. Older fics on ao3, gifsets and art from years past, moodboards and headcanons that are years old. None of these things have an expiration date. So reblog them, share them, let people experience them for the first time and allow people to enjoy them for the 2nd/3rd/4th time.

Comment!! It’s such an important thing to do in fandom. Whether it’s on new work or old work, whether you write long comments or just a keyboard smash and emojis - it’s great way to share love to creators, to support/encourage/inspire them and to get involved in fandom. Check out Ian and Mickey’s guide to commenting and other posts about commenting: here // here // here

Share your ideas. Whether it’s headcanons or meta or fics or art, share it. Feel free to explore your ideas. There’s always room for discussion, analysis and creativity.

If you see ask memes or tag games going around, take part! Or even reblog one of these games and tag some people you’d like to get to know better! Don’t feel intimidated, it’s always nice to be tagged.

Keeping reblogging posts. Not just once or twice but again and again. The queue is there for a reason. And each time you do? You’re sharing it with your dash.

Remember, pretty much everyone starts out as a lurker and when it comes to being creative - everyone starts at the beginning. Those writers and artists and creators that you are in awe of? They all started out at square one. Everyone practices and creates over and over again, that’s how it goes. The more you write or draw or create, the better you get. And fandom loves to see it.

Need ideas or inspiration? I’ve got lots and lots of prompts for you!

This is a relatively small-ish fandom but it’s active and there is nothing nicer than new people joining, so don’t hesitate - jump in. It’s so much fun and we’d love you to join us! 💖

If anyone has any tips or encouragement they’d like to share, please reply to this post! 💖

And if you have any questions about using tumblr, send me an ask!

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #calli talks #encouragement post for lurkers #this is a revised and updated version of the post I shared last year

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blueiscoool · 1 year

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Why These Imperfect Korean ‘Moon Jars’ Sell for Millions

Old, round, imperfect and beautiful — that’s how fans of Korean art describe the moon jar, or “dalhangari.”

These unassuming, plain white pots have entranced everyone from rapper RM, of K-pop sensation BTS, to philosopher Alain de Botton.

The former director of London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, Beth McKillop, has called the moon jar an “icon of Korean identity.” And if price is any indicator of popularity, one recently sold for over $4.5 million at a Christie’s auction.

This month, a rare example from the late 17th or early 18th century will go on sale at Sotheby’s in New York, where it’s expected to fetch more than $3 million.

“A large moon jar has always been expensive, but I think the big uptick in prices and value is… because their appeal is now global,” said Angela McAteer, Sotheby’s international head of Chinese art for the Americas and Europe, over video call. “You’ve got an international cohort of bidders competing for them, so it’s gone beyond the traditional connoisseur collecting community of Korean art.”

Huge price tags also result from the jars’ rarity. Although made for over a century in the royal kilns of Korea’s last kingdom, the Joseon dynasty, few are thought to exist today. Estimates for the number of larger ones (those more than 40 centimeters, or 15.7 inches, tall and wide) that have survived over the years range from 12 to 30.

Having passed through auction houses and antique dealers across the world, several of these are now in the collections of institutions like the British Museum and Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, as well as in the hands of private collectors.

‘Owning a piece of happiness’

The first moon jars were created in the royal kilns in Gwangju (a city just outside Seoul, not the larger southern city of the same name) from 1650 to 1750. They were made from pure white porcelain and kaolin clay, and, following the neo-Confucian fashions of their day, the pots reflected values such as propriety, humility, frugality and purity. They were likely used at court and in upper-class homes as containers for food and liquids, or as decorative vessels.

In the mid-20th century, moon jars began gaining international appreciation thanks to influential admirers such as Japanese folk crafts scholar Yanagi Soetsu and British potter Bernard Leach, who bought one from a Seoul antique store in 1935. Leach once said that having a moon jar was like “owning a piece of happiness,” and would later give his to fellow potter Lucie Rie for safekeeping during World War II. It stayed in her studio until her death and was later acquired by the British Museum.

Charlotte Horlyck, lecturer in Korean Art History at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies, wrote in the Art Bulletin journal that after World War II the moon jar “caught the attention of an early generation of postcolonial Korean artists and scholars who sought to restore Korean art history and national identity,” as the pieces “resonated with the visual language of international modernism and minimalism of the mid-20th century while remaining a distinctly Korean work of art.”

The moon jar’s allure

When Sotheby’s announced its forthcoming sale, the auction house described its 44-centimeter (17.3-inch) moon jar as an object that inspired, astounded and soothed those who “stand in its presence.” It’s a funny thing to say about a pot, to speak as if it’s alive, but the jars’ visceral, emotional impact on people is something that comes up time and time again in the literature.

Choi Sunu, a former director of the National Museum of Korea, has described the museum’s moon jars as being like companions, or muses that have inspired his writing and stirred his creativity. Bernard Leach admired the pots for their “natural unselfconsciousness.” In 2012, South Korea’s then-Unification Minister Yu Woo-ik used the pot as a metaphor symbolizing a reunified Korean peninsula (moon jars are created in two hemispherical pieces and joined in the middle).

More recently the rapper RM, of K-pop group BTS, posted a picture of himself hugging a modern-day moon jar on Twitter, telling fans that the pots made him feel calm.

“It’s hard for someone to really comprehend how a pot can make you feel that way,” said McAteer. “It has this real meditative presence. If you’ve sat in front of a great (painting by US artist, Mark) Rothko and you feel this kind of palpable energy emanate from it, and you could sit for hours and just feel something in its presence — the moon jar has that too.”

“The more you look at it, the more there is to see. It looks different from every angle,” she added. “We had real issues with the photography and the catalog because it looks like a different piece every time you rotate it, or you change the lighting. The surface is just alive, you know.”

“You can see how the glaze coalesces; you see these spontaneous bursts of this blush color that’s happening in the firing. You can lose yourself in its surface.”

Modern masters

Modern Korean potters have been inspired by the jars, and a number have come up with their own homages. Ceramist Kim Syyong covers his pots with a black glaze, while Yun Ju Cheol’s versions look spikier like a pufferfish and Choi Bo Ram’s unvarnished, textured blue vases have a denim-like quality.

Others, like Kwon Dae Sup, have looked to closely recreate the process used by the potters of yore. The 71-year-old ceramist produces unadorned white jars and allows for all the beautiful imperfections produced to shine through. He works out of a studio in Gwangju, where the royal kilns that produced moon jars were once located.

There’s a great deal of preparation that goes into making a moon jar traditionally. It’s labor-intensive: washing, sifting impurities from the clay, kneading and rolling it to remove air bubbles, carrying around these large hunks, not to mention hand throwing the clay itself to that oversized bowl shape without collapsing, and the work keeping a pine wood fire burning for 24 hours while the pot hardens in the kiln. Kwon also built his own kiln to replicate the old process as closely as possible.

“I do this because it’s fun,” he said in a phone interview. “Every time I make something, it’s novel … The quality of the material is different every time. The conditions in which I make the pots is new every time.”

Kwon said he also feels an emotional connection to the moon jar. As a student he was so moved by a one he saw in a Korean antique store that he decided they would be his life’s work. “They feel alive,” he said.

In a 2019 book on his work by Axel Vervoodt Gallery the potter is quoted saying he tries to produce art that needs no addition or subtraction. “I wish to create work that has an imposing presence but harmonizes with its surroundings regardless of where and when it is displayed. It should give peace of mind and a sense of comfort to all who look at it.”

By Christy Choi.

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valentinoappreciator · 4 months

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I sent this request to someone else a while ago, but I'm fucking obsessed with the concept.

Can I request Valentino smut when he sees that one of his best stars has gotten her clit pierced?

Oh godddd, this one got me GOOD.... I'll admit I wasn't too hooked on the idea at first, but then I started writing, and the words just... would not stop coming 👀 so, thank you, dearest anon, for sending me this request 🙏

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Valentino / female reader

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: E for Explicit

Where else to read: AO3, under the username TheWeirdDane and the title Drabble 3 - Piercing. yes, the creativity knows no bounds.

Tags: piercing (nothing mentioned about the actual procedure), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (light) overstimulation, valentino being a simp for one of his best girls

Author's notes: I looked up clitoris piercings for the sake of this drabble, and now I want a HCH piercing.... what on EARTH!!

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

The pain was unbearable at first. Luckily, you healed fast. A couple of weeks later, and the piercing was all healed. During those weeks, you hadn’t stopped working, of course. You had, however, asked your boss - the famous, or infamous, depending on where you stood, mister Valentino - if you could work the pole instead of in front of the cameras or on the streets.

Valentino was a generous boss - if you did your job well. Meet his standards and exceed his expectations, and you could get away with a surprising amount of stuff. So, of course, being one of his best girls, he indulged you, allowing you to work on one of the main stages of his primary club.

“Of course, baby. Daddy’s not unreasonable.”

You had soon realized, however, that this might not have been the best plan. Stripping meant grinding against the pole and the patrons. Grinding meant disturbing the healing of the piercing. Disturbing the healing meant it took even longer.

But in the end, it was perfectly healed, and you could return to escorting and starring in pornos.

Your first time in front of the camera after getting your clit pierced, you were nervous. You hadn’t told Valentino about the new piercing, but to be fair, you hadn’t told anyone. It had been... kind of a spur of the moment idea.

Shedding your clothes sensually until you were completely naked, you lidded your eyes halfway and looked at your fellow porn actor, purring sultrily. His gaze licked over your body, drinking you in, and just as he saw the small, but shiny piece of jewelry nestled above your labia, he bit his lower lip.

“And they say perfection can’t be improved,” he grinned.

About to devour you, Valentino was faster.

“Cut!” he shouted.

Everybody immediately stopped moving.

Your co-star glanced over at him, before looking at you again, a flicker of nervousness in his green eyes. You patted his arm soothingly.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably not your skin he’s after.”

He nodded, but still couldn’t help flinching when Valentino got out of his director’s chair and strolled towards the two of you.

“Aww, are ya scared, sugar?”

Nod.

“Good. That means you respect me.” He grinned widely at the poor actor, before turning his attention to you. “Now, doll. It seems something is... different, about you.”

You started sweating bullets, and not at all due to the sharp lights in the studio.

“Did you get your hair cut?” he asked and wound a few fingers through your long locks. You couldn’t help a giggle. Whether from nerves, or bashfulness, you weren’t quite sure. Maybe a combination? Yeah, that seemed plausible.

You shook your head.

“Did you get new contacts?” he then asked. Despite wearing his iconic glasses, which obscured his eyes somewhat, it was clear that he was staring straight into your eyes. Your cheeks heated up, and you were suddenly supremely uncomfortable in your own skin.

You shook your head again.

“Did you get new nails?” he tried, taking one of your hands in one of his to examine your fingertips. They were done up in a bright purple nail polish with gold speckles that glinted sharply. Nothing new there; it was your favorite way to paint your nails.

You shook your head once more. Steadily, you got the feeling that Valentino was just trying to fuck with your head. Well, if he was, it was working; you started shivering. Not a whole lot, but enough that you tensed, and your fingers trembled in his surprisingly tender grasp.

“How about on your feet, then?” he mused, letting go of your hand to instead let his own slide up towards your shoulder, where it pushed gently, but firmly. The message was clear, and you listened intently, lying down on the comfortable, if overly pillow-ed, bed.

Your breathing picked up as he settled between your feet. His grin was wide and mischievous. Two hands came down to rest on your ankles and made you shudder, while the other two readied a cigarette in its holder. He snickered.

He lifted one of your feet and pretended to study your toenails carefully, and although the polish there was new, you had a feeling he knew exactly what was truly different about you.

You swallowed hard when your eyes met his piercing gaze.

“No, not that, either,” he said, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Wonder what it is, then.”

You looked down at him, and the breath caught in your throat when his gaze slithered down your body, ending right between your legs, where the piercing was so easily visible. His hands on your ankles tightened.

Then his eyes flicked upwards, meeting yours, pinning you to the bed. He slowly lowered your ankle to the mattress while at the same time crawling over you. Amazingly enough, he never once let go of the cigarette holder. Blowing the smoke out in a thick, red plume, his grin was so very easy to see through it.

“Oh, but baby,” he drawled in a sultry purr, and came so close that his knee squeezed between your legs to press against you. You gasped, and became acutely aware of how wet you were. Immediately, embarrassment scorched your cheeks. He laughed, but it sounded... strangely winded. Like he was... struggling, somehow. Maybe all those cigarettes were finally starting to work their, quote-unquote, magic.

“You didn’t tell daddy about this,” he continued and reached down to fondle you. It happened in a single instant; his long, deft fingers caressed your clit, then flicked the steel ring none-too-kindly, and you let out a sharp gasp. The muscles in your strong thighs flexed. Your hands moved behind your head to grab one of the many pillows.

“S-Sorry, daddy,” you whimpered. His grin filled your vision, now without the cigarette holder held hostage between his lips. But even without it, red smoke coiled from between his sharp teeth and rose towards the ceiling. His fingers began stroking you repeatedly, instead of just playing with the piercing, and you couldn’t help an embarrassing sound.

“You should be.”

You managed to feel the cold hand of fear around your throat, before he continued in the same breath.

“Because daddy will make you a star for this.”

You pressed your head back into a pillow, moaning at length - and not quietly - when two long fingers buried themselves deep inside you. Fuck, were you seriously so wet already that he could do that so easily? Apparently so, because then Valentino began thrusting his fingers, and there was definitely enough slick to make it loud.

“Daddy!” you whined, inadvertently clenching around him and making him groan. His gaze was piercing, one eye closed ever so slightly while the other was wide open, as if he wanted to take in as much of you as possible. “Oh fuck, daddy, that... that feels so good!”

“Yeah? Tell me about it, dollface,” he purred, but even though he had fingered you countless times, you had never heard his voice this tight or this out of breath. Like he was running a marathon.

Something wasn’t... well, normal might be the wrong word, what with being in Hell and all, but it was the closest you could come at the moment.

“Your fingers are so deep inside me,” you whimpered, spreading your legs wider to give him better access, and maybe, just maybe, also just so that he could easier see and play with the piercing - should he fancy that.

Valentino visibly shuddered. You were so surprised that you just stared up at him for a second or two, before remembering how to breathe. He looked at you almost violently, and the hardness of his gaze clearly said that if you mentioned this to anyone, he would put a holy bullet in your brain and drop you into a river somewhere.

You nodded, as if he had actually said it. He grinned.

“Daddy,” you croaked again, trembling all over. Your breath was coming in sharp, fast puffs of air. You were so lost in the pleasure that seared your veins that you couldn’t control the next words leaving your mouth.

“Do you like it, daddy?”

The entire studio took a sharp, collective breath.

Valentino grinned down at you, and his fingers withdrew to fondle the piercing again.

“Oh, this little thing?” he purred, flicking the ring once more and sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You cried out, your entire body twitching. Ever since you got your clit pierced, sensations had been heightened. You felt everything so much stronger, so much more intensely - pleasure included.

“It’s quite the eye-catcher, baby,” he snickered. He began kissing your cheek and neck, then your collar bones and sternum. Each touch of his lips set your skin ablaze, forcing you to release a sound so shrill it sounded like you were in pain.

It was with a startling realization on your end that Valentino let his long tongue slide around on your stomach, before the long, wonderfully slimy, prehensile muscle slithered down to lick over your clit. Goosebumps instantly covered your body, while a shiver shot down your spine at unprecedented speed.

Valentino moaned when the tip of his tongue made contact with the metal ring, and he tilted his head slightly, as if preparing to actually eat you out. The final hint to his seriousness, to his dedication, was that he actually took off his glasses.

You inhaled sharply, nearly choking on the air.

“D-Daddy, you don’t have to---” you began, but he interrupted you. Not with words, but simply by starting to lap at your desperately needy and wet cunt.

You supposed there was no need to feel ashamed at the fact that your orgasm hit you like a freight truck just a few licks in; he had been taunting and teasing you for what felt like hours. But still, the fact that Valentino could make you unravel with ten licks, tops, was really embarrassing.

“I know I don’t have to, baby,” he purred, and laid flat against the mattress, wrapped two hands around your thighs and let two hands squeeze your breasts, and began absolutely devouring you.

The pleasure that had been released with your first orgasm came right back for another round, and you took in a sharp gasp before throwing your head back against the pillow. You cried out, the muscles in your thighs and arms rippling when you tensed in the face of so much pleasure.

His tongue oscillated between playing with the piercing and playing with your cunt. If there ever had been, there was no longer any doubt in your mind that Valentino loved your new piercing. He practically worshiped it; licking and kissing and sucking, all of it accompanied by the most sinful, pornographic moans and sighs you had ever heard, or had ever made yourself.

“Oh, daddy, fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you panted, arching your back and instinctively grabbing onto the back of his head when you felt another orgasm approaching so fast you thought you would come right then and there. However, you managed to hold on for a little longer. At least, until Valentino pushed his fingers inside you and began thrusting them - hard and fast.

From that point on, you could only hang on for dear life and hope that he would let you catch your breath at some point.

“Daddy, please, you’re gonna make me come again,” you whimpered. Your perfectly manicured nails scratched over his purple skin, and dug in when his fingers curled upwards to press against a delicious spot inside you - while still assaulting your clit with his tongue, of course. With each lick, he nudged the piercing, which sent unimaginable pleasure through you.

Howling out your euphoria when the third - fourth? Or was it the fifth? - orgasm rippled through you, Valentino snickered breathlessly.

“That was a good investment, sweetheart,” he purred. His voice was raspy from the amount of fluids, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You simply sagged back against the mattress when the constant, relentless stimulation was finally taken away. You laughed breathlessly and put a hand on your forehead.

“It sure was,” you giggled, but your voice was somewhat slurred, as if you had been drinking heavily for several hours. “Thank you, daddy, that was... absolutely phenomenal.”

“Only the best for my favorite baby,” he grinned. Warmth spread through your entire body, but primarily your cheeks. They felt like they were burning up.

Reaching under one of the pillows, you pulled out a towel and bashfully handed it to him.

“You... uh, you got something on your face,” you giggled. Valentino laughed and took the towel, wiping his face clean before throwing it to the floor.

“Thanks, sugar. You’re such a doll. That’s why you’re one of my best girls.”

#asks #anon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #nsft #writing requests #reader fic #x reader #female reader #my post

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zahri-melitor · 29 days

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Okay a loose Recent Reads roundup:

Birds of Prey: Sirens of Justice: so I was lured (tricked) into reading this as Gail Simone wrote one of the stories, even though it, sigh, contains far too much Harley Quinn due to movie synergy. The Dinah and Helena banter is decent, but otherwise this felt...aggressively fine. The Helena story is very pat in terms of how people tend to write Huntress shorts, though I guess it wasn't 'Helena worries about a student' this time.

The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage: very much in conversation with O'Neil's run, of course, and also clearly reacting to contemporaneous US racial discussions. Shifting Myra to be the Mayor's sister not wife definitely alters her position in the narrative, particularly in terms of her obligations and response to situations. It is incredibly bleak in places, but that simply reflects the run it is based on and is a tribute to.

Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen: This is definitely for the Silver Age fan. Matt Fraction manages to string together solving a complex assassination plot over 12 issues by telling the story in short, 2-4 page sections that wildly jump around the timeline and are framed by 'the many ridiculous things that have happened to Jimmy Olsen'. I have absolutely no handle on the canonicity of some of this, particularly the extended Olsen family, and not knowing probably makes this read more easily. Looking at it as a whole, I'm impressed how well Fraction stitched what was effectively episodic 2 page fills into a complete narrative. The energy of the story is relentless. Best read in small doses.

Batman: Pennyworth R.I.P: god this comic could have been so much better than it was. It’s fine and accomplishes exactly what it was intended to do - tell a story of how Alfred influenced and looked out for each of Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Barbara - and sets everyone up to be mildly pissed at Bruce. But just for one example, it would have been HUGELY more powerful if they’d been able to use Dick, with his memories just restored, facing the fact he wasn’t there when Alfred needed him and his last interactions were so impersonal and spent pushing Alfred away.

Catwoman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: again, underwhelming. Tom King played shipper and wrote his version of how the Helena Wayne story should work; the Dixon story felt 90s appropriate but the art was dire; Brubaker’s felt like a missing scene to his run; Dini’s honestly wasn’t up to the standard I’d hope for from Dini. The art pieces were great though; a lot of good commissions.

Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: I cannot work out who chose the covers used in the issue, which swing between 'iconic' and 'reminding everyone ASBAR exists was unnecessary, DC'.

Generally: they did manage to round up fairly iconic lineups for most of the stories, with some chopping and changing for a few.

Wolfman got another run at trying to frame the 'Dick quits v Bruce fires him' debate; Dixon and Grayson both submitted literal fills (Dixon's is a scene immediately after Nightwing #19 1996 and before #20; Grayson's is at least just an extra story that fits into #1-12 of her Titans 1999 run on a day all the second stringers didn't come to work). I don't actually have a problem with any of these - they're nice additional material, but mostly more of the same. Seeley & King's suffers from the usual Seeley problem for me where it would be vastly improved by having a different focus; but it does feel straight out of his Grayson run, with everything that implies (down to the St Hadrian's student I wish was not present). All of the Dick stories are basically "we got the team back together" creative line ups.

Jason, in contrast, makes it really obvious that nobody can define a definitive Jason run, and so gets the tiniest story with Winick and Dustin Nguyen. I checked, and Nguyen did draw part of UTRH, but I wouldn't have associated him as a character-defining artist for Jason. The story's cute. Winick sidestepped having to commit to anything about his opinions on post-Flashpoint Jason direction.

Tim got Adam Beechen (which honestly makes me happy, I don't care about anyone else's opinion) and luxuriates in Tim having to play civilian; Tynion gets a Rebirth story that I can't quite work out his timing on (it's supposed to be a prequel, but Dick is already back in costume as Nightwing and talking to Tim, suggesting that several issues of the Rebirth Nightwing take place significantly before 'Tec #934) that is a classic 'Tim tells everyone how he feels about his brothers' story. I realise everyone boring has complained about Tim calling Damian a 'horrible gremlin' but the thing is you see I can only read nicknames like that as full of affection. The back and forth is an important part of their relationship, as shown by Damian snapping 'you're only listening to the insults'.

Steph gets her 71 days as Robin slightly padded out and Amy Wolfram manages to pick up Willingham's tone pretty well; I suspect she liaised with Damion Scott quite a bit on this piece.

Damian has a Super Sons piece from Tomasi, because it's the most lighthearted option available and it sells very well (it's sickly sweet). Which was probably the right call as the other piece is clearly written by Robbie Thompson to accompany his Teen Titans run and for the downward spiral going on there. Which is honestly a bit of a pity for Damian, given everyone else got feature pieces from favourite runs, and he got the 'this slots into your current story' piece.

#z canon read throughs #recent reads

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beevean · 1 month

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Rewriting Castlevania

To be more specific, Castlevania post-Season 2. The first few seasons shall serve as the launchpads from which to build upon and iron out the kinks for later stories.

I don’t have an exact vision of how rewritten versions of Season 3 and 4 (or Nocturne, but that isn’t the focus here), but I know, for starters, they could’ve used a more compact cast.

First: remove Trevor and Sypha. They may have been major protagonists in Seasons 1 and 2, but their story was over. Alucard, as well. His story was also done… for now (because he’s too iconic in the franchise as a whole not to bring back in a sequel series).

Next: they could’ve easily cut out Morana and Striga (whose names escaped my memory until I just looked them up) without substantially affecting anything in Carmilla’s whole story. Lenore can stay (maybe as the show’s equivalent to Laura), but she should not get a “redemption”. Instead, develop the idea of how weak others see her and how her devious intellect helps her overcome her perceived weakness. Write the woman a Starscream arc, even (“I am Lenore of Styria, and fuq you, Carmilla! I win!”), with mistress Carmilla as her Megatron! Give her lots of ambition!

For Isaac, I would love for his chat with that Captain to be preserved (I rewatched it recently and loved the vibe of it), but a couple other events in his journey need adjustments so that he doesn’t go through the “I had an nice talk with a human, so my mind about humanity is changing, but these guys are blocking me and I can’t reason with them, therefore I’m stupid for trying to be civil and hate humans again, now they die!” bit twice. With a little streamlining, his screentime in Season 3 could be devoted to building him up as a threat, and then set up Season 4 with his role as a co-antagonist (with Carmilla) to Hector fully set up when they reunite. No sanitizing “I’m going to live!” revelations here.

Then there’s Hector. I still think we didn’t need to see the immediate aftermath of his imprisonment. In this hypothetical rewritten story, I would suggest having a 1 or 2 year timeskip, so he’s been slaving away in Carmilla’s dungeon for quite a while, forced to build her an army with his Devil Forgemaster powers, and Lenore’s been keeping watch and giving him plenty of incentives not to betray the sisters. Maybe for his first appearance in this version of Season 3, he could have this intimidating reveal where it dramatically shows the scrawny boy from Season 2 has become a buff, scarred son of a gun, clearly having worked out a lot during his year(s)-long stay.

The story following the Castlevania 3 adaptation would not have to be a Curse of Darkness adaptation, but the pieces were in place to pass the main protagonist torch over to Hector anyway. By making Season 3 all about his eventual escape, and having Season 4 follow him on the run, eventually overcoming his oppressor (Carmilla) and former partner (Isaac), we have ourselves a cohesive story that blends everything it establishes into one, airtight package, rather than feeling like a convoluted animation anthology.

Also, maybe Saint Germain’s Infinite Corridor quest can be worked into Hector’s adventure to freedom in some kind of creative way, without Saint Germain having to sacrifice his morals or gain info from a shady 3rd (or 4th) party.

Reply: I like your ideas!

Hard agree on removing Trevor and Sypha because they are effectively done, and Morana and Striga because they add absolutely nothing of importance. Ellis said that he created the council to explain who ran the kingdom while Carmilla was in Wallachia, but Lenore could do the job herself. I’m not sure about Alucard because his story is also over, but I do see the potential of him grappling with his grief, and fearing he might become like Dracula. It’s just, the way it was done was skull-crushingly boring, and for now I have no better ideas.

(btw yes, Carmilla and Lenore could be wives at this point lmao, their personalities are strong enough that it wouldn’t come off as The Lesbians For Brownie Points. Maybe Carmilla turned Lenore so she’s her dame and superior, and this would cause frustration in Lenore who feels like Carmilla sees her more as her pet than a lover... frustration that she channels on Hector, in some sort of cycle of abuse way :) I still like the idea of her falling in love with Hector, but it’s an unhealthy, possessive love typical of a vampire, that Hector doesn’t reciprocate or grows out of.)

For Isaac, I mentioned the other day that he could use as a springboard the realization that Dracula cast him away like a broken tool, and from there, his affirmation that he’s worth more than what Dracula told him. ... yes, this is still Hector’s arc, but whatever at this point. Absolutely, S3 should avoid that stupid pattern of “oh maybe humans aren’t so bad-- nvm y’all rude, die”. Maybe he avoids people instead of barging through cities, and makes his army from the corpses he finds in abandoned towns? But he still can’t avoid everyone, hence, the scene with the captain.

Mhh. Hector’s story spanning so long would also influence Isaac’s, and it feels like too much? If Isaac had one year of time to build an army, dude would lead a small country basically. He’s already OP af, even if we nerf him by making him weak in physical combat. Same with Carmilla, she would definitely do some damage in one year.

I’m torn. Hector’s story in S3 could be tweaked a bit by making it less fetishistic and still treating Hector like a person: as in, someone with goals and principles and was not hired as General only because he’s pretty, that Lenore has to whittle down to convince him to work for him (the idea that Hector cannot be physically forced to work and his master needs to earn his trust is actually really good for a conflict). The two should butt heads and have more intriguing conversations, make the job harder for Lenore, let’s see if she keeps with the diplomacy or gets frustrated and needs to resort to the ring (which only makes sense in the scenario where Hector is deemed too dangerous to be allowed to work freely, since its only shown function is to bequeath control of the Creatures). I actually jotted some ideas down, if you’re interested :P

(oh, and no rape. obviously. she really didn’t need to do that.)

And S4 can kind of stay the same, but with the difference that Hector trapping Lenore is a form of cruel mercy, he does not crawl back to her because he too realized he does not need to cling to people to earn love, and he actually leaves the castle, ready to explore the world (with the implication that he might meet the equivalent of Rosaly, but it’s not necessary)

To clarify, what is your idea of Hector’s story in S4? Does he flee from Isaac on the chase? Will he eventually fight him and Carmilla? Will he meet Rosaly in the finale, and in this timeline they stay together without Isaac interfering? (please say yes 🥺)

But yeah. I still think the prequels could have been adapted, but if we need Carmilla as a spanner in the works tweaking the timeline, this feels much better. Trevor and Sypha alone not bogging down screentime would solve so many issues with the rushed pace.

#netflixvania thoughts #for lack of a better tag

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milfzatannaz · 11 months

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Goth wardrobe advice

hiiiii baby bats!!!! I just wanted to write a lil post on how to start building a goth wardrobe! I started around 6 months ago and I’ve been very happy with the looks I’ve been able to create, and I thought to just write down how I was able to rlly curate my aesthetic! (though I will tack onto this post that goth is a music based subculture so you can be goth without fancy elaborate looks)

when it comes to shopping for clothes, my personal advice is buy individual pieces, not outfits. meaning you buy clothes with the intention of mixing and matching which will save money and help you from over-buying. plus flexibility in your wardrobe allows for more fun and creativity!

the look

The first step to creating your style is to envision what kind of look you want to go for. goth style pulls from so many different sources! Trad goths from the 80s evolved from punk, and subsequent iterations of the style have Victorian, glam, etc sentiments. you can lean more romantic or more edgy, it’s up to you! the first step is to create a vision board. I love Pinterest personally. from there I typed “trad goth” “casual goth” “90s goth” and streamlined what I want to emulate. Don’t forget to watch goth rock music videos for style inspo- siouxsie is my personal icon and wore such interesting things, as well as Patricia Morrison! there’s also a level of gender nonconformity in goth that you can lean into. for instance, I’m femme but with a shaved head that really compliments my style and makes me feel really confident. It’s all so variable and individual. one of the original tenets of goth was the DIY aspect, which I think is super important. don’t be afraid to rip, cut, add safety pins, or paint on clothes you buy.

shopping

shopping for goth clothes has a lot of misconceptions. you really don’t need to ever buy from a fast fashion site like killstar or dollskill to get the looks you want. In fact most goths would prefer that you look elsewhere at first, bc a lot of us aren’t comfortable with the way our subculture has been commodified and commercialized. thrift stores have given me tons of luck. I typically prefer red white and blue, but goodwill can have good stuff too! (now, thrifting is more environmentally friendly, but that doesn’t mean that the company is ethical, like Salvation Army and goodwill. it’s a matter of choosing what’s right for your personal values.)

you can buy black clothes at pretty much any store which makes creating outfits somewhat easy. shop where you can afford it and what has good options for your body type and comfort level. I buy most of my stuff secondhand but I own a few things from H&M and Pacsun. pacsun has amazing corset tops that are affordable during their sales, and H&M has foundational pieces for okay quality. Try Depop too because I LOVE vintage clothes and you can find amazing things on the app, like dresses from the 90s and 70s blouses!

General wardrobe items

here’s what I bought when building my wardrobe:

- black trousers

- black skirts (midi AND mini. I prefer long skirts but I like to have choices)

- band tees for my fav goth bands

- a white button down blouse

- bustiers/corsets. I have incredible luck thrifting them but some I’ve gotten new. They’re sexy and fun on their own but even cooler layered over something!

- tights! fishnets are a must as well as solid sheer black and other fun patterns

- dresses in plaid or solid colors. you don’t have to JUST wear black, in fact siouxsie wore tons of color back in the day. black is just what we’re known for but maroon, purple and white are great too.

- long sleeve sheer tops. I have one black mesh and one black lace top. These can be worn over bras for an edgier look or under band tees to add texture and complexity.

- SHOES! I don’t buy secondhand shoes only bc I have wonky feet. My two main pairs are my doc martens Jadon platforms and Mary janes. Shoes are an entirely personal decision so do your research! A lot of ppl like Demonias but I haven’t swung for those yet.

- accessories, accessories, accessories. Perhaps what makes someone recognizably goth is our funky accessories. I have multiple belts, ranging from the standard black with grommets to a triple belt and a corset waist cincher. I buy my jewelry off Etsy or I buy them from flea markets, and I lean towards ankhs bc I’m a sandman nerd lmfao. (I own 3 ankh necklaces, a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings oops). I also have a few silver crucifixes and a spiked collar.

- outerwear. I’m a leather jacket aficionado and I hand painted a trad goth jacket, but other options are black long coats and blazers. vests are pretty great too.

final notes

I’m a baby bat myself so I, too am learning the ropes and exploring my style. remember that it’s about self expression and making yourself stand out, not uniformity. there are so many unique alternative subcultures and no one is stopping you from pulling from all sorts of inspo! Remember to have fun when shopping or getting dressed above all else!!!!

other great resources can be found on r/gothfashion and from goth YouTubers!

#goth tag #IDK IF THIS IS HELPFUL BUT. I TRIED

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sakuraharuno156 · 10 days

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"I'm a feminist, that's why i hate a fictional character for not fitting into my idea of what a woman should be instead of the real existing male author who wrote her"

Woah, hold your horses!

It's all so wrong that I don't know where to start....

1) You should NEVER hate on real people for their creative freedom ✨️

You can hate Danzo or Hinata - you can't hate M.Kishimoto.

You can hate Moriarty - you can't hate A.C.Doyle.

You can hate Gale - you can't hate S. Collins.

You can hate any piece of fiction, but no, you cannot hate the author for creating something.

It's the exact reason people are scared to be creative. It's the exact reason why people do not post their art or fanfiction - because people like you can't separate art from the artist.

It's not like Kishimoto glorified r*ape, or i*cest, or p*dophilia. It's not like he hurt anyone. It's not like all of his female characters are shitty.

Kishimoto gave us feminist icons like:

Konan - a strong, important character who gave a run for his money to one of the strongest guys in the series. She had a real backstory. She is a fictional character who portrays a lifelike woman.

Tsunade - a god damn Hokage, the strongest woman of her generation. A real fighter with a real trauma. She had her problems, yet still she is everything. She is a fictional character who portrays a lifelike woman.

Temari - a strong person. She always called everyone on their bs. She grew up scared for her life and still went into the world to be great. She is a fictional character who portrays a lifelike woman.

Sakura - the best female character in Naruto. Realistic and important. Born to nothing, self-made junnin. Made her biggest insecurity into her biggest weapon. She is a fictional character who portrays a lifelike woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kishimoto made a strong female cast, so he, himself is not a women hater. He just made a shit character.

He is an author who made a piece of fiction that has parts that deserve some criticism.

He does NOT deserve any hate. You can joke about it like "omg I hate him for not making this happend 😭" and it's a character design that is not up to your liking, because "I wanted her to have long hair after time skip", but real hate?!

2) It's ok to critique something or even someone, BUT it's not ok to send hate to real people. Never. ✨️

"You hate wearing that exact pair of high heels? HOW ABOUT HATING ON THE DESIGNER INSTEAD?"

You see how nuclear it is?

How about making a review and warning people that it's an uncomfortable pair of shoes, BUT NOT BEING A D*CK ABOUT IT? 🤷‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's a childish and frankly disgusting behavior that I really DO hate (see? You can hate behavior, but you can't hate people).

Like those people (mainly Hinata fans - see which type of behavior that character perpetuates in real people?) hating on Jun Esaka for writing a novel.

FOR WRITING A NOVEL.

To the point she felt a need to ask them TO STOP.

That's disgusting. No.

You can hate a piece of fiction, you can hate a behavior, you can hate what it does to the world, BUT you can't hate real people.

3) Why in your mind, it would be feminism to hate on a real human being?

Feminism is not about hating people, it never was, never will be. There is no hate for real people in feminism. The end.

4) Hating a shitty fictional character for being pathetic and a sad excuse of a "woman" is true feminism. ✨️

Feminism is about wanting more for women. If there ever was the antichrist equivalent for feminism, like the "antifeminist" - it would be literally Hinata Hyuga 🤷‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not gonna repeat myself further because if you weren't able to understand it twice, there are two possible explanations:

You are incapable of understanding it in the way i'm explaining, and if that's the case - im sorry. I can't think of a way to explain it even clearer. You can always ask questions about things you don't understand or ask for clarification for certain phrases or examples that you don't understand. There is no shame in being too young to understand or something. BUT you have to ask for help instead of making false assumptions and trying to achieve... What?

You intentionally try not to understand so I can't help you. If you want to live in ignorance and your false narrative of what you want feminism to be - I'm sorry for you 🤷‍♀️

I hope you are just a young person, so you have time to grow out of this mindset because this one is ugly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hating real people is awful, trying to make others hate on a real person is an incredibly ugly mindset 🤷‍♀️

#anti hinata #naruto #anti studio pierrot #pro sakura #anti hinata hyuga #anti hinata fandom #pro sakura haruno #anti filler #konan #tsunade senju #feminism #no hate #jun esaka #temari nara

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dcbbw · 5 months

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The Odd Couples

Hi, tumblrs! I’m back with yet another AU of one of my favorite AUs: it’s the DC gang, paired differently.

(I know I haven’t written anything DC AU-related in a long ass five minutes, and I swear Chapter 6 of the original series is practically ready to post, just needs a deep-dive edit)

So, this story is the product of two separate ideas: First, what if I hadn’t followed canon/fanon/personal head canons when pairing the couples up/off? And the second idea comes from the What If episode of Friends where that gang ends up with someone different (Phoebe x Ross, Monica x Joey, Rachel x Chandler).

Side note: Using throwback DC crew (Liam, Riley, Max, Leo, Liv, Drake, Madeleine, and Penelope). Also, check out the link to Leo’s shirt (if you make it that far). It’s the Leo-est shirt ever IMHO)

Side Note 2: Mixing the pairings up means I have/will be writing pairings that others write/have written and are generally associated with said writer(s). While I am fully aware that no one owns ships, I realize this is a fandom and strive to be mindful of those who write rareships and respect their pairings.

This is simply my take on my version of these characters when coupled differently in my world.

To those who read over this story in parcels, pieces, and in whole ...THANK YOU!

For those who do read this fic, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. Microsoft Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.

I’ll be back sooner rather than later with a submission for Hana Lee Appreciation Week, an angsty Driam/Riley love triangle, and some Stormholt.

Song Inspo: Moments We Live For (Acoustic Version), In Paradise

Word Count: 4,099

Pairings: SGL x Olivia; Drake x Madeleine; Leo x Riley B; Max x Penelope

Rating: M for Mature themes

SGL x Liv

Liam Rys tipsily followed Olivia Nervakis into the hotel room, hip-checking the door to shut it while Olivia occasionally paused her steps to turn on table lamps. Her black stiletto heels made no noise against the carpet; however, the swish of her highly starched black and white polka-dotted dress sounded scratchy in the silent room.

“Do you have to turn on every light?” Liam complained as he fastened the deadbolt.

“It’s not every light, and not our electric bill,” his girlfriend responded tartly as she flipped yet another switch.

The couple was in Baltimore for the weekend, attending a costume party thrown by Liv’s employer. There had been a buffet; an open bar; and a prize for the best costume, which Liam and Olivia did not win. Carlos Santiago, a member of the Environmental Services team, and his wife and three children came costumed as The Birds and The Bees and won the prize.

Liam and Liv were The Ricardos: Olivia’s red hair was done up in Lucy’s signature poodle hairstyle, and her dress was a dead ringer for the world’s most famous housewife’s iconic frock. He had wanted to wear a tuxedo and carry a conga drum but settled for Ricky’s purple, polka dot silk smoking jacket with shawl collar, black pants, and black velvet slippers.

“I can’t believe we didn’t win!” Liam muttered beneath his breath as he came behind Olivia, arms encircling her waist; his palms splayed against her flat, toned stomach. She responded by leaning against him, her back pressed against his chest.

“Don’t hate!” she admonished. “With those Korean features and Boston accent, no way were you a convincing Cuban band leader. Besides, you have to admit Carlos had a pretty creative idea.”

“Not more creative than my SOCK GAME! I mean, Liv … you gotta admit, it’s damn good tonight!”

He was wearing black, knee-length socks with red hearts inscribed with “I Love Lucy” scattered all over. Olivia rolled her eyes in exasperation at the mention of his sock game.

This man and his socks! Liam thought his sock game could cure cancer and bring about world peace.

“You’re sock game is great as it always is, darling. But it was a costume contest,” Olivia placated in a soothing tone as his fingers began removing bobby pins from her hair.

She spun around, facing her boyfriend as her hair fell in soft curls that framed her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

“You big, spoiled baby,” she teased. “Wanna smoke, take the edge off? I brought a couple of blunts along.”

He quickly shook his head. “No way am I going to be in BALTIMORE off some loud.”

Olivia grabbed the lapels of Liam’s smoking jacket, pulling him closer to her. The tip of her tongue swiped his lower lip. “Makes sense,” she agreed.

Liam pressed his palms against her ass cheeks; he sang softly in her ear as he swayed his hips against hers.

And life is heaven, you see 'Cause I love Lucy, yes I love Lucy And Lucy Loves me!

“My name’s Liv”, Olivia corrected with a giggle as she gently wriggled out of Liam’s embrace. “C’mon, let’s get ready for bed,” she urged as she headed for the bathroom.

Liam stuck out his tongue at her retreating back before glancing around the room. It was a typical hotel room, nothing really standing out or making it different from any other room.

The door that led to the balcony was all glass with a brass doorknob; the hotel promised a 360◦ view of the city’s famed Harbor from the patio. The couple planned to have breakfast there in the morning.

There was a workstation; a large, wall-mounted television; coffee maker and microwave; and the bed: queen-sized, four-poster, and centered against the back wall.

His eyes widened when he saw the wall to the side of the bed. It was covered floor to ceiling, and side to side with a … mirror.

Well, that was different.

Liam approached the bed, kicking off his slippers as he went; he stared curiously at his reflection before climbing atop the bed and resting on his haunches. He then lay on his back, turning his head to continue staring at his reflection.

He impatiently pushed his hair off his forehead before rolling over onto his stomach; pressing his palms against the bedcovers, Liam pushed himself up with his arms, still watching himself. He imagined Liv beneath him, her pale legs scissored across his back as they watched themselves.

This could be fun.

“LIVVY!” he yelled excitedly over the sound of water running in the sink. “There’s a MIRROR! On the WALL! By the BED!”

The water turned off; Olivia sauntered into the room; her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, damp ends of her hair curling, and wearing a red lace bra with matching panties. A sultry smirk curved her lips.

Liam caught sight of her in the mirror’s reflection, and visibly gulped. Liv only wore matching underwear when they were going to have sex.

“Ai yi yi yi”, he muttered as he bounded off the bed and hastily divested himself of the smoking jacket.

Olivia was now standing directly in front of Liam; after guiding him to the other side of the bed, directly against the wall so he could see them both in the mirror, her red-tipped fingernails trailed a path from his throat to his belt buckle before unfastening the belt. She slid to her knees, pulling the pants zipper down with her teeth. Her eyes looked up at Liam.

“Care to hear me do some ‘splaining?” she purred as her hand reached inside the opening and pulled his cock out.

Liam never answered; he was too busy staring at Liv’s reflection as her mouth swallowed his manhood.

Drake x Madeleine

“Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” Madeleine demanded.

Drake’s chocolate brown eyes stared up at her before raking over her body, his gaze settling on her chest. “Take off your shirt,” he countered.

Madeleine exhaled a frustrated sigh that fluttered her bangs as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Damnit, Drake! You’re sick, and I need to take your temperature to make sure the meds are working.”

Quickly covering his mouth, Drake Walker let out a series of deep, wet coughs that rattled the congestion in his chest.

“They aren't”, he rasped as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Tits would help. For sure.”

With a horrified look, Madeleine hastily grabbed and thrusted a bottle of hand sanitizer in his face. “WIPE!”

Rolling his eyes, Drake took the bottle; he then complied with his girlfriend’s first request. He slathered the disinfectant over his hands while Madeleine inserted a thermometer under his tongue.

His temperature was 102◦; two degrees lower than it had been three hours ago. Uneasy relief washed over Madeleine’s features.

“You should take the meds on a full stomach. You hungry?”

Drake turned onto his side, adjusting the pillows beneath his head as he did so. “Not really, but we both know you’re gonna harp on it until I give in. I think I have some canned soup in one of the kitchen cabinets.”

Madeleine nodded absently as she stepped into the bathroom to run the instrument under hot water in an attempt to kill the cooties her boyfriend more than likely transferred onto it. She heard Drake’s question when she turned the water off.

“When are you giving up that broom closet you’re living in to move in with me?”

“Don’t start,” Madeleine warned with a shake of her head as she re-entered the bedroom.

“Start what? You’re paying $1300 a month to RENT A ROOM! You could move in here with me and pay HALF that and it would be a whole ass apartment! You could start saving, pay down that credit card debt of yours …”

“I prefer to have my own, Drake!”

Madeleine’s boyfriend rolled his eyes. “You HAVE your own RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW! Clothes! Shoes! Makeup! Oat milk! And if we’re talking preferences, I prefer to wake up with you in my bed every morning. I prefer to glare and glower at you from across the room when we argue instead of sitting on the phone in awkward silence. I prefer to not have to wait for make-up sex!”

Madeleine shifted uncomfortably, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the carpet. Her green eyes peeked up to sneak a glance at Drake, whose bleary eyes stared at her with a mixture of frustration and hopefulness. His fingers idly played in his chest hair.

“Why won’t you just accept this greatness?” he huffed accusingly.

Madeleine rolled her eyes in a here we go again way.

She and Drake were in love with each other. They were the odd couple of the group: The WASP and the Blue-Collar Worker, but they fit each other like a glove. Most of the time.

Cohabitation should have been the next logical step in their relationship.

Madeleine found it nice to come to his U Street apartment after work and find him cooking them dinner while she mixed killer cocktails to help them unwind from their day.

Or for her to be the first one awake and cook them breakfast, making sure to prepare the thick-cut bacon he liked, and brew the dark-roast coffee that was his favorite before sharing morning-breath kisses.

Drake making sure Madeleine had the apricot and cream body wash that cost a small fortune, and high thread count Egyptian cotton towels she insisted upon for her showers.

While their relationship was highly sexual, it was not sexually based. There were debates and discussions covering a gambit from international events and politics to cooking meats with mustard. The only thing they could never agree on was music: Madeleine was a Swiftie, and Drake was 70s rock and country. They shared a love of exercise and the outdoors; weekends usually found them taking day trips to Shenandoah to hike the trails, snacking on the beef jerky Drake loved and Madeleine tolerated.

But people broke up all the time … over the most minute and ridiculous things. And Madeleine knew she could be an anal-retentive pill most of the time. She wasn’t going to be heartbroken and house hunting if things went south with Drake.

Madeleine had been instilled from an early age that God blessed the child that had their own.

“I’m not going to be that chick if we don’t work out," she stated in a small but firm voice as she sat at the foot of the bed; close enough to show support and comfort, far enough away to maybe being in a germ-free zone.

“You’re saying that after I just asked you to move in with me for the 100th time?” Drake huffed before another coughing fit overtook him.

While Drake hacked up a lung, Madeleine looked around the bedroom, wondering if he had any masks around. The couple locked eyes briefly, chocolate fastened on emerald.

“You could dump me at Target or something!” she countered as she alternated between awkwardly patting his back and scooting further away from him.

When the coughing subsided, Drake pointed to the nightstand on Madeleine’s side of the bed.

“Masks. Bottom drawer.”

Drake knew her.

“As for dumping you, you don’t shop at Target; it’d have to be Macy’s.”

So well.

Leo x Riley B.

Leo Rys hefted an oversized, too-full sriracha red snapper taco in both hands before greedily biting into it. He let out a low grunt of satisfaction as flavors and spices exploded over his tongue and crumbles of taco shell fell onto his plate.

Saturday afternoons couldn’t get much better than this: wearing his most comfortable shirt; hanging with his girlfriend Riley Brooks, who was his favorite person in the world; and lunch at his new favorite eatery, Tia Maria Tacos. Bonus: they had scored an upstairs window booth that overlooked the Potomac River.

Normally for the pair, Saturdays were for sleeping in and being lazy; 24 hours of partial nudity and horizontal positions suited them just fine after clocking out of work on a Friday afternoon. Especially if they had worked a full week.

But Riley had been in a funk lately; she had been to five job interviews over the past month; good interviews, where she had been a top-two contender. However, that hadn’t been good enough. Riley had been passed over every time, for each job.

Requests for feedback had not been helpful; hiring managers told her they couldn’t go wrong regardless of who they chose for the position. Riley’s ego was bruised, her esteem low. Despite her having a job that she had worked for the past 10 years ... a job she did damn well ... she was now comparing herself to Penelope, for Chrissakes.

Leo knew he had to do something, so he planned Date Day.

They began at Lincoln’s Waffle House for breakfast followed by a couples’ massage in Cleveland Park. Riley wanted to visit a tarot shop; Leo was agreeable. They both got readings, and she purchased a deck of tarot cards along with a strand of chakra beads.

From there they went to Georgetown, navigating the crowds and perusing shops. A French bakery was offering a European tea meal; Riley looked at Leo with hopeful eyes that quickly filled with dismay at his emphatic refusal. An hour later, laden with bags from a vintage clothing shop, a sex store, and a spice-filled storefront, they decided they were hungry; Leo suggested tacos.

He took a long swallow from his bottle of beer, his gaze fixed on Riley who had a plate filled key lime shrimp, Korean BBQ, and spicy chicken tacos, along with a serving of nacho fries. She felt his gaze and looked up to smile at him before taking a healthy bite of the shrimp taco.

Her eyes widened with surprise before closing in bliss.

“Hmmmmmm, this is soooooo good, Leo! I mean, it ain’t Chinese food but still like, hella good! Thank you for suggesting this place!” she said around a mouthful of food.

“Anytime, boo,” he replied with a wink as he reached into her plate for fries covered in nacho cheese and seasoned ground beef.

“And thank you for cheering me up today. It’s the reminder I needed that the Universe is just doing what it does, and all those hiring managers are just bitches and heifers.”

Leo dragged his fork through seasoned beans and rice. “They weren’t the jobs for you,” he assured her. “YOU are smart, funny, kind, and the greatest asset any person or job can have, and the right organization will recognize that. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous, and do you have any idea how hot you are?”

Riley bit into the spicy chicken taco, and quickly took a sip of her Sierra Mist with lemon. She nodded at Leo. “How hot I am? Yeah, I know ... and the answer is not very.”

Leo chuckled as he shook his head. This woman.

He and Riley were the couple that were never supposed to be. Both had had extremely bad luck with love, resulting in deeply rooted trust issues; the issues were more prevalent on Riley’s end than Leo’s.

They were both ambiverts, which loosely translated meant that there was no guarantee that plans made at 10am would still be in effect at 5pm. And you couldn’t be angry about it.

Physically, neither was the other’s type. Leo was a touch too lanky and fit for the buxom Riley; for Leo, Riley had a few too many inches in height, and was a tad curvier than he was used to. They met via Tinder, and it was supposed to be a one-night stand.

But their chemistry was off the charts.

But the sex was too good.

But their pillow talk left them curious to know more about each other while fully clothed.

Long story short … she kept him wild, and he kept her safe.

Before Leo could reassure his girlfriend that she was indeed VERY hot, her eyes trained on someone at a table near the back wall; they narrowed in anger as she tossed her food onto her plate while muttering, “What the actual FUCK?”

Leo looked around puzzled, wondering WHO happened. Because with Riley, it was never a what. If he could change two things about his woman, it would be her incredible grudge-holding talents and her penchant for public confrontation.

Only one table in the far corner was occupied. A Latina, facing them, was excitedly showing off one of her purchases to her male companion; Leo squinted, determining that the girl was proudly displaying a pair of earrings.

He swung back around, a look of confusion on his face. “Who are we hating on here?”

Riley dramatically pointed her index finger at the Latina. “HER! She told me I was a SHOO-IN for that freaking job!! AND THEN WENT WITH SOMEONE ELSE!”

Leo looked even more confused. “Which job? There were five of them!”

Riley didn’t answer. She was too busy scowling at the woman across the room while alternating between shaking her fist and making symbols with her fingers.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“Throwing gang signs!”

“DC DOESN’T HAVE GANGS!” Leo argued.

“IT DOES NOW!!”

So much for a peaceful outing and letting the Universe do its thing.

Maxwell x Penelope

“I cannot believe you right now, Pen!” Maxwell Beaumont seethed as he rubbed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

The Communications and Marketing Director inhaled and exhaled deeply, slowly. It was rare that anyone or anything upset Maxwell, much less angered him; but if anyone could knock him off his equilibrium, for certain it was his girlfriend, Penelope.

His girlfriend stared at him with her wide, pansy-blue eyes before quickly licking her pink-glossed lips. She ran slender, pale fingers through her black hair, then tightened the belt of her pink silk robe. Penelope outstretched her arm, her fingertips grazing the fabric of her boyfriend’s shirt; at his look of frustrated rage, she quickly pulled her hand back.

“Max,” she began in her breathy voice, “I know you’re upset with me, but I HAD to leave that godawful job! The commute sucked and who knew data entry was so … exacting? It’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did!”

By the time she finished her explanation, her hands were gesticulating wildly about, and her tone of voice had become a shriek.

Maxwell turned his back on Penelope to go into their kitchen; still hot Italian food sat on the stove, wrapped in plastic bags. He hollered at her while he began unpacking what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner for Penelope’s new job.

“IT WAS A TELEWORK POSITION! That you were LATE for BOTH DAYS you worked! And it was MAIL MERGE, NOT DATA ENTRY!” He turned to glare daggers at her. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact you put forth entirely ZERO effort into at least TRYING to become a member of the working class, or that you lied to me the entire week about still having the damn job!”

An angry retort sprang to her lips; Penelope debated continuing the argument but thought better of it. She had known the lie would catch up with her, but she had been hoping it would have been after the dinner. Carmine’s had the most amazing food, and Penelope was in love with their broiled Lobster Oreganata, Porterhouse Pizzaiola, and pasta with meatballs and sausage.

With Maxwell’s back facing her, Penelope quietly tiptoed into the kitchen, trying to neither be seen nor heard. She peered over her potentially ex-boyfriend's shoulder, salivating at the sight and smells of containers filled with pastas, meats, and sauces.

Maxwell felt his girlfriend’s eyes on him and exhaled a silent breath. He should have known from their first meeting that Penelope was not relationship material.

They met at 9:30am on the elevator at the office building Max worked in; it was Penelope’s first day at a company occupying the entire third floor. At 11am, Max was back on the elevator hellbent on a Starbucks run; the elevator stopped at the third floor and Penelope entered, her blue eyes filled with tears.

She had been let go from her new job in less than 90 minutes.

Max was a sucker for a damsel in distress. He dried Penelope’s tears, treated her to a coffee, and offered to take her out on a date. That had been over two years ago, and if the woman had worked a cumulative 40-hour work week since, he knew nothing about it.

He had asked the gang if their companies were hiring; Liam laughed so hard, his drink came out of his nose. Riley, who worked with Max, rolled her eyes as she muttered, “You already know.” Everyone else shook their heads vigorously.

For a brief period, he had even let her be a stay-at-home girlfriend, but that definitely didn’t work out; Penelope couldn’t cook and had no concept of housekeeping. He had to pull from his savings to replace his wardrobe when she tossed his lights, darks and half a bottle of bleach into the washing machine. She was asleep when he left for work, and asleep when he returned home.

Irresponsible was too inadequate of a word to describe his girlfriend. She was a money pit in addition to being careless, thoughtless, and an emotional vampire.

But Maxwell Beaumont loved Penelope Ebrim. She could be sweet, buying him small gifts that brought a smile to his face. She mixed mean cocktails, had a killer sense of humor, and was a terrific dancer. She just needed to find her way.

Apparently, God had chosen Max to help her do so.

“Pen, you have GOT to find and keep a job!” Max stated in a firm tone that brooked no argument as he prepared her a plate of lobster, pasta with garlic and oil, and shrimp parmigiana.

When Penelope saw Maxwell piling a plate with Italian yumminess, she had moved to the cabinets to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. She was setting them on the dinette table as she debated coming clean in her reply.

“I may have found something; I’m supposed to have an interview Monday.”

Max set the serving spoon down as be swung his head to look at his girlfriend in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was waiting until afterwards so I could surprise you!” Penelope crowed happily.

“Well, where? With who?” Max’s smile covered his entire face as he resumed plating food.

Maybe things were looking up.

Penelope expertly removed the wine bottle’s cork and began pouring sparkling merlot into the glasses.

“The interview is at The Greene Turtle, and it’s with a temp agency called Daddy’s Little Girl. Basically, I would be having lunches and meetings at hotels with older men for an hourly rate.”

Maxwell had plates in both hands, which he slowly lowered onto the kitchen counter; his every movement displayed his disbelief. There was no way his girlfriend had applied for a job as an escort.

No.Way.

“You’re going to be a prostitute?” he choked out.

Penelope had just taken her seat. She looked up at Maxwell in horror at his words.

“NO!! Why would you say THAT? How could you even THINK THAT of me??’ It’s like lunch meetings or something!”

“NAKED LUNCH! Pen, NO ONE is paying a woman … a PRETTY WOMAN … to just “have lunch”!! And meetings in HOTEL ROOMS? What the ACTUAL fuck?”

“It’s working lunches, sometimes dinners, with out-of-town business entrepreneurs who need someone to take dictation!”

Max’s face dropped into his open palm.

“The going rate is $150 an hour! I was told with my looks and appearance, I could be in huge demand,” Penelope argued.

“WHEN DID THEY SEE YOU?” Max yelled as he threateningly shook a plastic spatula in Penelope’s direction.

“I saw the ad on Craigslist and called the number in the listing, then did a Zoom with the manager.”

Maxwell Beaumont stared at his girlfriend for a long, silent moment before exiting the kitchen and heading for their bedroom.

“MAX! Where are you going??”

“To have a talk with God.”

Penelope stared at his retreating back with a furrowed brow before shrugging and rising to fetch her dinner.

“Tell Him I said heyyyy.”

Max’s response was to slam the bedroom door.

Tagging: @ao719 @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @mom2000aggie @liamxs-world @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @beezm @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @gardeningourmet @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @lovingchoices14 @lady-calypso @walkerdrakewalker @queenjilian @kristinamae093 @choicesficwriterscreations

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