#idk he’s tried at points but he always falls back on denial and pretending he’s fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || just when you start to settle into a dynamic with him that seems natural, it starts to shift again in a new direction; should you be excited, or worried?

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 4.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (just oral sex f receiving), shoe kink (kinda foot fetish but… shoe? he’s gonna lick the shoe, y'all, idk what to say), degradation, orgasm denial, coming in pants (is that a warning?), a bit of pet play (but it’s just a collar and the nickname ‘puppy’ so it’s overall quite light), leg humping, FEELINGS!!

new parts posted on thursdays! follow my reblog account to be 'tagged'!

You were laying on your couch that night, half-watching a true crime documentary series and indulging in a mug brownie when you got an email alert pinged from your phone. You lifted the device to see it and instantly grinned at the sight.

JAMES

subject: For tomorrow

Pausing your show and setting your dessert down, you quickly unlocked your phone to read the whole thing— he was a man of few words, typically, but the words always made excitement tingle in your belly.

If you do this, and I don’t know that you do… I want to eat you out. Make me really beg for it. Teach me how to do it right, punish me if I do it wrong.

Don’t let me come.

-J

p.s. will pay extra for this if you need

For a minute you considered pretending that you needed to upcharge him for oral, but it seemed a little too cruel. Getting eaten out was bonus enough, really. Is it bad that you were already slightly turned on just thinking about it? Sometimes your job kinda sucked, like any job does, but now this gorgeous man who looked like he could snap you in half was going to beg to eat you out… and you were getting paid?!

You laid back on the couch and set your phone back down, smiling to yourself even though you tried to fight it.

Of course, your smile finally dropped when you realised there was something familiar about this feeling you had. It reminded you of middle school, when you had to fight your brother for the phone (yes, back then families all shared one landline, as distant as that felt now) because you were expected a call from the cutest guy in the whole grade and when it finally rang and it was really him and he asked you to the winter formal your heart soared.

Why were you terrified of this memory, and not enjoying it? Well, because you were realising that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone since the eighth grade.

Oh god, do I have a crush on a client?

But it wasn’t any client, it was James, and he was so different from the rest in basically every way and you just wanted to peel back every layer until you could finally see the real him— every time you were with him you sensed more beneath the surface that he wasn’t ready to let out yet. You wanted him to trust you, and show you. But that was going to take time.

Even more than all that, you wanted to not fall for someone you met at work. Even at a normal job that can backfire completely, but a job like this? It was strictly off-limits. It had never even been a hint of a problem for you before, even with attractive clients or clients you sometimes had nice conversations with before or after scenes.

They say if you love your job, you never work a day in your life. It sure didn’t feel like work, treating James this way. If anything, the real work was keeping yourself at bay… you’d already slipped up that first time by fucking him and letting him sleep on you. You weren’t even sure at this point which one was more intimate, but you decided your new gameplan needed to be minimizing intimacy with him, even if that was what you imagined he was really after this whole time.

So, the next morning, you prepared for your session with James by wearing a new dress (just to intimidate him) with nothing underneath, slipping on your tallest heels (his favorites) and swallowing down your feelings so you could get in the mindset of someone much meaner than you really were. If he wanted to beg, you were gonna make him beg.

You always felt men looked best on their knees. James was certainly no exception, naked as the day he was born with those pretty blue eyes looking up at you while you circled where he was knelt and bound on the floor.

You caught his eyes scanning up your legs and back and it made you smirk proudly to yourself.

He was clearly trying to watch you even as you stood behind him, and you let him watch as you licked your lips and admired his nude body where it was just sitting there and waiting for you. “Nice ass, by the way,” you complimented, sensing that it made him feel a little uncomfortable in the best way.

“Um, thanks, Mistress,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You walked back around to his front again, preparing to gear up and get going, but he stopped you.

“W-wait,” he interjected, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Before we really start, can I… ask you for, uh, something else? Just a little thing.”

“Sure,” you nodded, kneeling down to speak to him at eye-level.

“Do you happen to own any collars?” he asked, making you smile wide.

“I own quite a few, in fact… would you like to wear one for me?”

“Yes, please,” he whispered.

“Why?” you asked, and the question seemed to throw him off.

“I… I don’t…” he stammered.

“Are you just my dumb little puppy, James?” you pressed, showing a bit of mercy by supplying an answer for him (plus it was fun to watch him writhe needily in response before nodding a bit). “Okay, puppy, I’m gonna get the collar for you…”

His eyes darkened and his Adam’s apple bobbed when you returned from your closet of toys with a black leather collar.

“If you’d told me sooner, I could’ve had it customized to say James on the tag,” you hummed as you knelt down again and fastened it around his neck, tugging to make sure it was just a hair too tight. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” he answered tensely, “it feels good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” you winked as you ran his fingers down his chest and over his abs, but you pulled away before you reached his cock and he whimpered slightly as you stood up.

Your head tilted slightly as you stared down at him, your hand running over his face as he leaned his cheek into your palm.

“Pretty little puppy, you’re already so desperate,” you noticed with a smirk; when you ran your thumb over his pouty bottom lip, he opened his mouth and you slid the digit over his tongue. He closed his lips and sucked gently, keeping his eyes open and locked with yours like the good boy that he was, making you smile proudly before you pulled back and sat down on the bed across from him.

You let yourself get comfortable for a moment while staring at him on the floor in front of you, crossing your legs and hoping to look a bit stern.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy, baby?” you finally asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully.

You slowly uncrossed your legs and let your dress ride up slightly, smiling a bit when his eyes dropped and his lip twitched over clenched teeth. “This pussy?” you asked coyly.

“Y-yes, fuck,” he groaned, biting his lip as he stared at it.

“Then beg.”

“Please,” he gasped instantly, “fuck, please, I need it so fucking bad…”

You frowned, unimpressed. “I don’t really care how bad you need it, puppy, I need to know what’s in it for me.”

“M’gonna be good, I swear,” he whined, and you let your gaze drift down to his cock that was bobbing and flexing against his abs, “I’m gonna be your good puppy, Mistress, please just let me taste you… I'll be so good, pleasepleaseplease."

You were ready to give in, honestly, but you remembered that he wanted to do a lot of begging, so you simply crossed your arms and stared down at him with a flat expression. “Is that the best you can do?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, please, anything…”

His eyes, for a moment, glanced down at your heels— black, shiny, frighteningly sharp. You already knew how much they turned him on, though he admitted he’d never had a stiletto fetish until he saw them on you.

Your face twisted into a grin with a sickening idea.

“Show me that you know how to put that mouth to use,” you bargained as you leaned back slightly on the bed, lifting your leg and pushing the heel against his chest until he hissed. “Clean my shoe with your tongue.”

You could see the shock hit his expression all at once before it instantly shifted to desire— he was totally getting off on it, which was a relief because for a second you worried you’d really fucked up and killed the scene. But the look in his eyes… fuck, he was drooling for it, and now, you were too a little bit. “Y-yes, Mistress,” he stammered breathlessly.

Truth was, these shoes were already cleaner than most hospital floors— they’d never left your carpeted apartment, and you had wiped them down with disinfectant since the last time they were put to use (believe me, the way they were put to use meant that was vital). So, it was beyond harmless for him to ‘clean’ them with his mouth. But did he know that? You weren’t sure. He didn’t seem to mind.

There was a hint of hesitance as he stuck his tongue out flat, but when he licked a long stripe over the sole of your shoe, you felt your thighs clench unintentionally. He was starting with the sole… and to think you ever worried he’d think this was too ‘out there.’

“There’s a good boy,” you grinned as you watched him go. "These heels better be spotless if you want a chance to taste my cunt, I wanna see what that tongue can do."

He nodded and panted heavily as he licked, kissed, and sucked on every part of the heel that he could find. You snarled as you dug the sharp stiletto into his cheek, making him hiss in pain.

"You missed a spot," you reminded him coldly, and he surprised even you by taking the pointed heel into his mouth, sucking on it excitedly. He bit down on it and bared his teeth, glaring at you in a way that made you throb between your legs. You just hoped you'd managed to keep your expression neutral when on the inside you were desperate to have his mouth on you, maybe even more desperate than he was.

When you were satisfied with his performance, you pulled your leg away and rested it on the floor… but then lifted the other and rested your heel on his shoulder with a grin. “Aren’t you gonna clean the other one, too?”

You laughed at him, truly, when he grumbled a little ‘goddamnit’ to himself while he got to it, repeating pretty much the same pattern as he laved the whole thing in licks and sloppy kisses.

Finally he completed his work and both of you were trying to hide how desperate you were to get on to the main event, though you gave yourself away slightly by not making him beg very long at all. “You wanna lick Mistress’ cunt?” you asked darkly.

“Please,” he breathed.

All you had to do was give him a little nod and he was instantly leaning in, pressing his face to your knee and kissing it needily while he panted hot breaths that fanned over you. He left open-mouthed kisses on your skin as he made his way up your leg, and he just looked so indescribably good like this.

“You look good like this,” you let yourself say out loud. He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at you. “On your knees, serving me,” you clarified. "Pathetic, but good."

You made a mental note to show him how good he looked some time, by having him get in some degrading position in front of a mirror, before turning your attention back to the present.

Gingerly, he pushed your legs open and realized with a little sparkle in his eye that you couldn't hide your arousal from him anymore— you already knew you were soaked compared to when you’d first shown him your cunt just a half hour ago to tease him— and he grinned at the sight before he looked up at you. "You must've liked the way I licked your shoes."

"Shut up and get to work," you frowned, grabbing his hair and pulling his face into you. He moaned against you and swirled his tongue over every detail of your folds; you mostly just tried not to moan too loud, afraid to give him an ego more than he already had. Instead you gripped and tugged at his hair, loving the way he whimpered whenever you did. “You can do better than that,” you groaned, “come on, suck on my clit harder— and put your tongue inside me.”

He really didn’t need any instruction but it was part of his request; and more than the actual commands, his enthusiasm in response to them improved his performance. When his rough hands grabbed your thighs tightly, you feared it was a little too much control and you swatted one of his wrists with your hand.

“Keep those behind your back,” you ordered firmly. “Don’t make me get the cuffs.”

He nodded and moaned a little against you, grasping his own wrist behind his back and continuing the pattern he’d found of curling his tongue against the spongy spot inside you.

"God yes, just like that— that's my good boy," you sighed, tugging on his hair a little harder.

He whimpered and nodded slightly, apparently a silent ‘yes, I’m your good boy’ as he kept eagerly sucking on your bud— it must’ve been pretty swollen by now, and he surprised you a bit by using the underside of his tongue which was even smoother and made your toes curl inside your heels. It was a good thing he couldn’t see that or he might realise that he was gaining power over you that he wasn’t usually allowed to have.

Normally, giving a client any power made you anxious— not just for the stability of your dynamic, but your safety. With James, you actually were enjoying it; not just because it involved him eating you out like he’d been starving his whole life, but because you trusted him more than even you realised. Still, you weren’t about to say everything that was coming to mind, since so much of it exposed the position of vulnerability you had put yourself in: your tongue feels so good James, I love it, it’s so good, stuff like that. You even felt the word please on your tongue and had to keep your mouth shut to trap it because you most certainly could not say that to him.

"Will you come, Mistress?" he asked, muffled against your skin.

"Yes, baby, just keep going," you groaned, head falling back gently between your shoulders as you felt your hips rocking slightly against his face.

His technique was better than you expected, not that you were expecting anything specific, and you were struggling to keep your moans down as he switched from exploring you to targeting your most sensitive spots and putting you on the fast track to coming all over his tongue.

“It’s good, you’re doing so good,” you praised, feeling him hum happily against you. “Such a good little puppy, oh, yes, suck a little harder.”

Your head fell back when he did, a deep moan echoing around the bedroom.

Much faster than you originally expected, your orgasm was building up and making your insides pulse around the shallow intrusion of his tongue. You considered holding it back, but what’s the point of being the dom if you don’t get to do whatever the fuck you want, right? “I’m close,” you warned him breathlessly, “don’t fucking stop, puppy, Mistress is gonna come all over your pretty little face.”

He nodded slightly against you, keeping his lips latched on tight as he kept his pace and pattern steady, guiding you easily to the edge as you moaned his name and gripped fistfuls of the sheets beneath you.

As reasonable as it would be for you to become too sensitive just after coming, for some reason it hit just right to leave you wanting more, already on the edge of doing it all over again so long as he kept moving his tongue just like that.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you breathed, “I wanna come again. Keep fucking going, oh fuck…”

Your legs were shaking around his head, and each movement of his lips against you made you moan deeply— more than ever, the whole “not showing how good it felt” plan sort of fell by the wayside.

But it had an unexpected benefit: he was going fucking crazy seeing you like this, moaning against you and rocking his hips into the air in desperate need of some stimulation on his cock.

You nearly fucking screamed as you came the second time, holding his face in place by his hair and rocking your hips against his open mouth as you reached the peak. “Oh fuck, James,” you moaned just before you started to come down from the high, and you ended up having to pull him away from you to get him to stop when it all started to be too much.

He sighed and tried to catch his breath, most of the bottom half of his face soaked in your come and looking gorgeously shiny with it. His chest was heaving with each breath, his eyes staying shut for a moment before he fluttered them open to look back at you.

“Did I… do good, Mistress?” he whispered.

“Yes, you were such a good boy for me,” you cooed, and it seemed to soothe him as he smiled weakly to himself. “I bet you’re feeling a little needy, huh? Your cock looks really lonely.”

“Touch me, please, please, please,” he chanted breathlessly.

“No, I don’t think I’m going to touch you,” you answered plainly, and he whined a little. “But you did so good that maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

He looked up at you as you leaned in with a smile, lifting his chin with one finger.

“If you wanna be a bad little puppy, you can hump Mistress’ leg,” you offered softly, and he looked so wonderfully desperate and ashamed as he met your gaze. You wondered if this was more embarrassing for him than the shoe licking. But he wasn’t in any position to turn you down, and so when you slid your heeled foot closer to him on the floor, he just sighed a little and sat up enough to lean forward and press his body against your leg; you could feel his cock throbbing when it rubbed on your shin, and he had to bite his lip to keep down a moan as soon as he started to move his hips and thrust against you. “Oh, such a naughty little boy, but you can’t help yourself, huh?” you mocked, watching his face turn that lovely shade of pink until he was blushing all the way down to his chest.

“Oh god,” he whispered under his breath as he picked up the pace slightly.

“I bet you’re already close, huh?” you taunted. “You know you can’t come, right?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered with a whimper. “I won’t…”

But even he didn’t sound so sure, especially as he pressed harder against you and kissed your knee and thigh while he grinded on you. “You look so pretty acting like a desperate slut,” you chuckled, making him whine louder. “Are you always this needy?”

“No, just for you,” he answered quickly.

His movements were smoother now that pre-cum had slickened his cock and made it easy to slide himself across your skin. You felt him getting faster and more desperate with each thrust, panting weakly and even biting down on your leg at one point to try to calm himself.

“Mistress, please, could you pull your dress down a little bit?” he begged hoarsely. “Please, I just wanna see your tits, I— I won’t touch…”

You knew from the beginning that you had no intention to let him see them, but you had a fun time teasing him by pulling the dress down slightly just to show more cleavage but still keep most everything covered. “You wanna see my tits, James? I don’t know, you’re so worked up I think you might make a mess on my leg right away if I let you see them…”

“N-no, I’m gonna be good, I won’t come without permission, I-I promise,” he stammered.

“I’m sorry but I just don’t believe you,” you shrugged. “But maybe I’ll play with them a little through my dress, since it feels good.”

You pinched your nipples where they’d hardened to almost be visible through the black fabric and he watched you like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “Oh, fuck, Mistress,” he whispered, his thrusts against you getting more stuttered suddenly.

“Stop,” you instructed firmly, and his eyes shot up to you as he slowed down slightly.

“No, wait, please—”

You pulled your leg back away from him and he thrusted a few more times into the air before he stopped completely. "I'm not sure I should let you come," you admitted, “in fact, I think we both know that I’m not going to.”

“No!” he whined, loud enough that you had no choice but to slap him across the face.

"No fucking whining,” you reminded him through your teeth. “You should be thankful I let you make me come."

He rested his head on your knee, looking beyond desperate as well as some odd mixture of exhausted and energized.

"You don't need to come. You just need to make me feel good. Right?"

He nodded a little, though his hips were still barely thrusting up into nothing weakly.

"Orgasms would just be wasted on a stupid little puppy like you," you sneered, making him sob a bit but nod again.

You caressed his face briefly before you dragged your nails down his chest, making him shudder under your touch. "Please," he whispered one more time.

"Oh, I know, baby," you pouted condescendingly, "I know you want it so bad, but you just have to be good and wait, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, "I'll be good."

"There's my sweet boy," you hummed happily. "I'm gonna go get dressed now."

For a second he seemed surprised that you were really ending the scene without letting him come, but he nodded and you got up, stepping past him and walking to the bathroom.

You found him waiting in the living room for you, dressed in his jeans and button-down again (and sadly lacking the collar), leaning against your kitchen island and looking rather antsy.

"Need anything before you go?"

"I can't do just once a week anymore, I need more…" he blurted out. "Can we do two sessions a week, or three?"

"Let's start with two," you offered, "I have openings on Monday and—"

"Any day. Whenever you can."

His intensity still surprised you, for some reason. It was clear he needed this— you wondered if this was the only release he had, in any sense of the word.

The way he not-so-subtly adjusted his jeans made you bite your lip and imagine that his next chance at release was much too far away for his liking.

"Still hard, huh?" you smirked.

"Yeah, I'm uh… it's gonna be like this for a while. You left me in quite a predicament."

"I figured you were just gonna go to your car and furiously jerk off for a couple seconds," you admitted.

"It… it would take me a little longer than that," he stammered, seemingly a bit embarrassed by your assumption about his stamina, "and I don't have time. I have somewhere to be right after this."

On some level, you knew this was a bad idea, but you ignored that instinct and stepped forward slowly, looking him up and down. "Where?"

"Uh, just… just a work thing," he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. What’s the point of being the dom if you don’t get to do whatever the fuck you want? that pesky, dangerous line of reasoning rang in your head again. So, even though it made your heart race slightly, you did what you wanted: he gasped when you reached forward and cupped him in your hand through his jeans. "Oh, fuck…" he mumbled.

"I like the idea of you coming in your pants for me, right now," you purred, massaging the hard shape of him and feeling his hips buck up towards you. "I like the idea of you going to your ‘work thing’ with a mess in your boxers, sticky and uncomfortable, afraid somebody will see a stain and know what it is."

"God," he groaned, shivering as you started to rub his bulge through the thick material.

“You like that idea too?”

“Yes,” he hissed, “fuck, you’re so… Jesus Christ.”

"You said it would take longer than a few seconds, didn't you? But you're already about to come."

"Oh my god," he sobbed, "fuck, I'm— fuck, baby…"

Just barely, you could feel his cock pulsing; but the real giveaway was a darker patch starting to form on the denim just beside his fly. “Wow,” you whispered, “I didn’t realize it would be so easy.”

You stopped when he jolted slightly, grinning as he started to catch his breath.

The energy was completely different in the living room than in the bedroom; you were very aware that this wasn’t part of a scene, wasn’t a dominatrix sort of thing to do. It felt like the first real sexual interaction between you and him— not the character you played for a living, not the version of him that pretended not to know what was going to happen when he was the one telling you exactly what he wanted. This was spontaneous, and genuine, and shockingly real in a way you hadn’t actually prepared for.

When his eyes met yours, you finally wondered if you’d made a mistake engaging with him like this, because all of a sudden you were sure that you couldn’t hide anything from him anymore. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable, in a way that was much more real than just opening your legs with no panties on, and you knew it was dangerous although you liked it more than you expected to.

There was that feeling again, the warm happy feeling that you had learned to fear. You were already thinking about what you were going to wear to the winter formal, to speak proverbially.

“Enjoy your work thing,” you smirked. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Right,” he sighed, “thank you.”

And you weren’t sure what he was thanking you for, exactly, but he scurried out of your apartment too fast for you to ask.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

As soft as silk, as strong as iron

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: I (kind of) put together two requests, “Sub Ivar but in a modern setting” and “Something vulnerable/fluffy with Ivar. It can be about anything, but I love seeing those few moments when his walls break down.”

Word Count: 4.5k (me going overboard doesn’t surprise you anymore, does it?)

Warnings: 18+. Smut, D/s dynamics (sub!Ivar), bondage, orgasm control/denial, sensory deprivation (just a blindfold tho). Fluff, a little bit of angst. This is probably OOC. If I missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: I’m so sorry it took me this long to get this request(s) out! I am still trying to find my way through writing smut, and I tried my best but idk if this is any good lol. Hope you enjoy and thank you!

Your body still trembles in the aftershocks as you come down from your high, and your hands grip tightly at Ivar’s still, fingers intertwined.

You open your eyes, and the first thing you see is the contrast of his hand on yours, and the red silk wrapped tightly around his wrists, keeping his arms tied to the headboard.

The sight is enough to send another little shock of heat through you.

And when you lower your gaze, find him licking his lips chasing the taste of you, the same red silk covering his eyes and leaving him vulnerable to you and whatever you want to do to him; it only makes you want him even more, even if he just made you come with his skillful mouth.

You move further down his body, putting your hands instead of your thighs on either side of his head.

To see him like this, surrendering and yours, it will never cease to amaze you, to send a pang of pride and heat through you, to leave you dazed and content.

Because…Gods, he was made for this, for submission. The perfect angle of his jaw as he tilts his head back surrendering to the pleasure you give him, the curve of his throat under your hand as he chokes back a moan at the feel of you, the strength of his chest rising and falling in shaky breaths as you make him yours over and over.

The soft little sounds he lets out even at the softest of kisses, the way his perfect lips form around please, the hoarse and desperate sound of his voice as he calls out your name in ecstasy.

Perfect, all of him. And made for this, for you.

You turn your head to press yet another kiss to the heated skin under your cheek, smiling up at Ivar from your place laying on his chest.

There’s still the faint redness on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and you still find it disarmingly adorable.

“Still blushing, love?” You tease softly, and Ivar offers a smile that is still part embarrassed and part overwhelmed.

He swallows thickly before answering, “I…It was…interesting, fun, how you…”

“Took charge?” You supply, tilting your head to the side, “You like it when I order you around, love?” You tease, but in the way his eyes widen just a fraction, in the way they fall from yours and his lips part looking for an answer before he fails to give voice to any, you realize the truth. Excited, overjoyed, you whisper, “Oh, you do.”

Ivar frowns slightly, apprehension making his body -previously relaxed and pliant under your touch- tense up.

There’s a slight tremble in his brows, the tell of gritted teeth, when he questions, “Is that…wrong?”

“What? No, of course not,” A small nervous laugh leaves your lips, because Gods, it is not wrong at all, it is so, so right. Your fingers trace the side of his face as you continue, “Ivar, I-…remember what you told me when we went on that first date?”

“The Gods made us to fit together.” He tells you quietly, not missing a beat. You smile.

“Well, in more ways than one it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

Throwing caution to the wind, you sit up and follow the path of your fingers as they go over the marks you left on his neck and collarbones, a small smile on your lips as you ask, “How do you feel about letting me tie you up?”

Perfect lips part in a small little ‘o’, and a gasp leaves him. Ivar’s eyes search yours, looking for the lie, the trick. When he finds none, he smiles, eager and happy.

Being intimate with him, sharing your body with Ivar and, more importantly, maybe, having him share his body with you, has always been something you both had to work for. It took months for him to even let you see him naked without anything covering his legs, it took even longer for him to feel comfortable letting you touch them, or keep him from touching you, or take his sight from him.

It took time, and trials and fails, a lot of talking and honesty, and a lot of adjustments and a lot of trust; but getting here, to this point where he can surrender and offer himself completely to you, you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

“You were so good, love,” You coo softly, though there’s a deviousness in your smile as you move down his body, straddling him and keeping both of your hands on each side of his head. “And you look so perfect like this, tied up and helpless and mine.”

It is at the last word that he makes this soft little sound, tilting his head back and baring his throat to you. Oh, and you want to give in to that siren song, and mark his neck with bites and kisses, and put your hand over his throat tight enough to make him let out the most delectable sighs and moans.

But you resist, keeping your hands off him for the time being.

“If you want me to touch you, Ivar,” You start, a pointed roll of your hips over him. At the feel of his hard cock dragging between your folds a shiver runs down your spine, but it is nothing compared to the tremble you draw out of him, and that is what you focus on. So you do it again, and again, coating his cock in the same wetness that you could still taste on his lips. A whine of your name, and you concede with a light chuckle. Leaning closer, you continue, “You have to beg. You were so good for me, you deserve to feel good, you deserve to come for me, but you have to ask.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“So polite,” You coo, giving in for a slight second and lifting one hand off the mattress to run through his loose hair. He leans into the touch, and you melt. “Now beg, love.”

A barely-there second where you think he will fight, resist. Uselessly as it always ends up being, sometimes he likes pretending he wasn’t made for this, for submitting.

But Ivar’s lips part, and his chest rises and falls in a couple of sharp breaths, before he starts, voice hoarse, “Please, touch me. Please.”

Hearing that simple little word on his voice will never cease to make you lose focus for a moment, and you grind against him again, making Ivar let out a choked shout that once would have been your name.

Deciding to indulge, since he has been so good after all, you let your hands trail over his shoulders, his chest, his sides, greedily taking in the way his breath quickens and his skin flushes at the solace of your touch.

Your mouth trails over his exposed skin too, switching between soft kisses and sharp bites, as you move down his body.

One of your hands stays on him -an old ritual of the two of you by now- as the other grips onto his thigh, and moves his leg to make room for you between them. You always keep watchful eyes on him when you have him like this and decide to touch his legs, for it is still something he struggles with, especially when he can’t see or touch you.

There are days when the pain is worse, and you don’t mean the ache in his bones. And in those days he can’t stand to have you touch them, or even look at them; maybe because he can’t.

You always keep a watchful eye, cautious of those days.

But today isn’t one of those days, and there’s barely any tell in Ivar’s body that shows you he notices -or is bothered- by it.

You settle between his legs, not able to keep yourself from giving the faintest of licks over the tip of his cock, feeling the knot in your core tighten at the salty taste of him.

With your hand wrapped around the base of him, you wait patiently, knowing you don’t need to give him a command now. You do hate repeating yourself, and he knows better by now.

“Please,” He asks, voice hoarse and head falling back against the pillows. You hum, and lean forward the few inches you need to. Your tongue traces the underside of his cock, from base to tip, drawing the most wretched moan out of him. “Gods!”

“I want your words, love.” You insist, letting him feel your faint breaths on his sensitive skin.

Ivar swallows thickly, licking his lips and opening his mouth a few times before he manages any words.

“Please…take me in your mouth, please, please, I-…”

His words die in a hoarse shout, and Ivar’s back arches off the bed when you finally take his cock in your mouth.

The red silk is striking against his wrists, and it keeps him in place dutifully. Still, as a reminder, your hand travels from his hip to the center of his chest, and you push him back with as little strength as you need.

Ivar falls back obediently, breaths fast and desperate, chest rising and falling so quickly under your hand you feel a pang of heat go through you.

And now you don’t bother teasing him, your head moving up and down expertly, drawing pleas and moans and whimpers from him. Your jaw aches a bit, but you continue, trying your best to take all of him; and you go on for long enough that his head lolls to the side and he can only tremble with each expert move of your head, lips parted and a broken litany of hurried breaths leaving him.

Another drag of your nails over the sensitive skin of his chest, and he complies with your wordless command.

“Please…”

You hum around him, and Ivar threatens to rise off the bed with the arch of his back, and he shouts your name. He is getting close.

But you pull away.

“No!” His head turns, searching blindly for you, and he tugs helplessly at the bindings on his wrists, “No, no, no, please, I-I want to come.”

“And you will,” You promise, biting your lip as you take him in. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hands are curved into helpless fists and still kept immobile by the red silk, his perfect lips are parted and gasping. You don’t bother resisting the urge, and as you crawl your way back up his body you kiss and bite at the skin you find, before claiming his mouth, tasting yourself and letting Ivar taste himself too. He surrenders so easily, so pliantly, so obediently to your kiss, that it makes the knot of heat at your core tighten. When you pull away, you finish, “But after I’ve had my fun.”

“Please,” He intones, head falling once again back against the pillows. And as your hand settles comfortably at the base of his throat, Ivar only swallows, and his breathing becomes more labored, if possible. And you delight yourself in moments like these, where the only words he can remember are please and your name, where he surrenders completely to you, when you have him completely yours, mindless and overwhelmed and desperate. “Please, I-…please, love.”

You cannot help yourself, and you lean forward and kiss him, sealing his pleas against your lips. Ivar moans against your mouth, and it sends a pang of heat through you to hear him wordlessly beg, to hear how desperate he is for the pleasure only you can give him.

There’s still the taste of you in his mouth, and you taste it when your tongue demands entrance to his mouth, that he freely gives, as freely as he gives all of himself to you.

You part from the kiss, and he tilts his head as if trying to chase the feel of your mouth. You chuckle, and decide to take pity -or torture him further, you don’t think there’s much of a difference between them right now- and trail your mouth over his skin.

You trail down his jaw as your hand settles on his chest that rises and falls sharply, and stop near his heart, feeling its quickened beat with a dark pride surging through you. You did this, you make him feel like this.

You bite down softly at the sensitive skin of his neck as two words ring in your head, sounding like Ivar’s own hoarse and pleading voice: only you.

Still, you had a point to make, and after letting your tongue run a slow path up towards that spot under his ear that makes him shiver, you whisper, “Slow down, love, I am nowhere near done with you. You need to calm that breathing of yours.”

Ivar huffs, somewhere in between a laugh and a whine.

“You’re not making it easy,” He quips. Your previously soft touch turns sharper, and you drag your nails down his chest, making sure to get close enough to his nipple to make him arch off the bed, “Ah!”

“Don’t talk back,” You warn sternly, but you betray a smile at the way he swallows thickly, a choked moan kept at bay by stubborn lips that press together. You grab his chin in your hand, and force his lips to part. “And don’t keep any of those pretty sounds of yours from me, Ivar. I want to hear you.”

After a tremulous breath, he asks, voice quiet, “Why?”

You know him well enough to know when he is not-so-subtly asking for praise, and while at any other time you would make him use clear words -and pretty pleas- to earn that praise, tonight you indulge.

“Because I love the sound of your voice,” You tell him softly by his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth for just long enough to make him shiver, “All those lovely sounds you make for me, they make me so wet, make me want you so much.

You notice his breathing slowed down a bit, and the smile that curves his lips is almost bashful, almost boyish. The gentle warmth of being praised, of being reminded of how wanted and loved and desired he is.

So, you continue, softly, lowly,

“You’re so perfect, love, and you sound so good when you beg, when you moan my name,” As if compelled, as if under a spell, Ivar says your name, a prayer leaving his lips in a low sigh. “I always want to hear you.”

He takes in your words, parted lips that still sport the faintest of smiles.

“I…I want you,” He tells you, and your eyes are drawn to his arms where they strain faintly against the bindings that keep him from touching you. Ivar insists, “Closer. Please.”

“How close, love?” You tease, even as you move to straddle him again, feeling the insistent press of his cock against you. His breathing starts becoming labored again, and you smile, “You want to make me come, Ivar? You think you can?”

“Fuck,” He groans through gritted teeth as you hold yourself over him, one hand low on his stomach, aching to grab a hold of him and guide him inside you. “Y-Yes, I can. I…I want to.”

You offer no words, but with painful slowness, that tortures both you and him, you take him inside you. Feeling the satisfying stretch of his cock inside you, you start moving, slowly at first.

Before long the pleasure builds, and as you move faster and faster above him, you lift one hand from his chest to use your fingers where you’re connected to bring yourself closer to the edge.

Even though he can’t see you, knowing you’re touching yourself as you ride him makes Ivar strin agains the silk bindings, and his breathing shakes and trembles as it leaves his lips.

“T-Tell me, what you’re doing, I-…please.” He begs, one last whisper of please following the low moan of his name you let out before answering.

“You like knowing I can make use of you to make myself feel good, don’t you?” You taunt, your words interrupted by a moan of your own. Your breathing is fast, and your thighs tremble, but you still talk, voice rough and low, “You like it when I have you helpless underneath me, and I make myself come using your body however I want,” Muttered curses and low moans of affirmation are his answer, and you continue, “Hmm, and I like having you for me to do as I please, mine.”

Ivar’s voice raises with a mix of pleas and desperate calls of your name, and seeing him lose himself in you, in the pleasure only you give him, makes you go higher, higher, until you lose yourself.

The aftershocks that travel through you like electricity leave you frozen in time for a few breaths, heart beating fast in your ears and your head tilted back, still feeling him deep inside you, desperate for release.

You start moving again slowly, but before long you pick up the pace, and your hands that previously soothed and caressed now are the sharp but still gentle drag of your nails over his skin, making him shiver and whimper.

“Come for me, Ivar,” You order, a sharp movement of your hips, a conscious tightening of your muscles around him. He gasps, “I want you to come for me.”

His body is pulled tight, a show of restraint in more ways than one, and he still has it in him for one last plea,

“Kiss me.”

The moment your lips press against his, a desperate moan rumbles its way through his chest, and you tighten further around him.

Your mouth moves softly over his, the sharp contrast of your fast movements above him, and with a sharp cry of your name he parts from your kiss, brow pressed against yours, breaths almost one.

Greedy eyes rake over his features as Ivar’s face contorts in pleasure, as perfect, kiss-bitten lips form around the shape of your name over and over as he lets go.

And it is in this, in the way he gives all of himself to you, in the way he surrenders, in the way he becomes yours, in the way he gives in to the pull of the current ant trusts you to take him safely to shore; that you lose your breath, your thought, your heart.

One of your hands stays intertwined with his, the other finding purchase on his chest to keep you moving. And your movements slow down as he comes down, your kisses become more reverent as his body relaxes further and further.

In between soft presses of your lips, you whisper your praise, your reassurance of how well he did, of how happy he made you.

He offers half-formed responses and smiles that look a little mad, but he still sighs your name when you promise I love you against his lips, and that is enough reassurance for you.

Keeping as much of you pressed against him as possible, you reach up and tug on the fastening of red silk, his arm falling limply to the bed, now that there’s no bindings keeping it up. You smile, and reach for the other one, repeating the same steps.

One of your hands runs back and forth over his upper arm as you press a few kisses to the side of his jaw and under his ear.

Ivar hums, happy and content, and you smile against his skin.

“You good, love?”

He hums again, blindly turning to you and tilting his head, expecting the kiss you readily give. You kiss him, softly and lovingly, your hand still absently running over his skin, touching him wherever you can reach, a comfort for him as much as for you.

You tell him quietly that you are going to remove the blindfold, and Ivar nods, a small mumble of thanks to your warning.

“I want to see you,” He demands, and this time when his voice trembles it only makes you cold. You freeze and lift your hands off of him. He sucks in a sharp breath when he doesn’t feel you against him anymore though, “D-Don’t, don’t l-leave me here, don’t-…love, I-…”

Your hands cup his face, and you quieten his panicked words with your touch. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and you hope he doesn’t notice how your hands tremble.

“Ivar, I’m here. Not going anywhere,” You promise, fingers reaching up to skim over the edge of the blindfold, “Do you want me to take this off?”

He nods, a little frantically, “I want to see you. I don’t…I-I can’t know what you’re thinking. You can see me and I, uh, I can’t know what you’re-…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whisper, your hand reaching for the back of his head only to be stopped by his own hand gripping onto your wrist.

Wide eyes look at his hand and find only reddened skin, the rope dangling uselessly from the headboard. Ivar’s grip on you is not too tight, but it still speaks of urgency, and you choose not to focus on how easily he broke past your bindings, instead leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the back of the hand that now holds on to you.

“Tell me you love me.” He asks, voice trembling even as he grits his teeth.

Your heart lurches in your chest, and past the need to reassure him, past the instinct to soothe and keep safe you feel a dreaded seed of fear at the tip of your stomach.

“I love you, Ivar, of course I do,” You whisper vehemently, a caress of your free hand on the side of his face, “Nothing changed since I put this on you, sweetheart. Let me look into your eyes and prove it to you.”

You take off the blindfold, and there’s the faint trace of moisture on the corners of his eyes, and your chest pulls tight. But you hold your ground, soft touches as you bring him back to you, back to the certainty and the steadiness of just the two of you.

Pale blue eyes blink a few times before focusing on you, and you cannot stop yourself from making them fall shut once again by leaning close and kissing him, softly and slowly.

A small sound leaves Ivar’s lips as you pull away, somewhere between a complaint and a moan.

“You did so well,” You tell him, a kiss over the corner of his mouth, “This was so fun,” Another kiss, this time on the old scar on his cheekbone. Leaning a bit further back, enough to meet his eyes and smile at him, you tell him, “I’ll be right back.”

A quick trip to the bathroom to get everything in order, and on the way back you grab a bottle of water, taking a few grateful sips as you walk back to the bed. You hand it to Ivar when you return, and he thanks you with a tilt of his head.

You allow yourself to relax against him after he discards the bottle on the nightstand, sighing against his still heated skin.

A small hum of contentment, his hand falling over the arm you draped over his chest, in the barely-there tightening of his grip on you a request for you to get closer.

When you do, Ivar closes the distance and kisses you again, intensity behind the press of his lips on yours even if there’s the undercurrent of being satiated and too-tired to start over in each of his movements. And yours, if you’re honest.

“Thank you.” He tells you quietly, and it is for more than it seems, so you only smile and shake your head.

“Thank you, love.”

He huffs a laugh, turning on his side and you do the same. Ivar lifts one hand to move your hair away from your face, and your eyes are drawn to the faint marks the silk left on his skin, seeing them as yours as the bite marks on his neck and chest, as the trails of pink your nails left on his skin.

“I love you.” He tells you, quietly. It always is a secret, the way the three words leave his lips. Thankfully, long gone is the fear of rejection that used to coat the admission at the beginning, but there’s still a hesitation to it, a shakiness.

And so he always says it like the last words before a dream is to shatter, like the unwavering promise that still carries the irrational fear of happiness is nothing.

“And I love you.” You tell him, moving even closer and accepting the request his hand at the back of your head insists on, tilting your head back and meeting his kiss again.

You lose yourself in the soft and languid feel of Ivar’s kiss, quiet and content and finding solace in the simple feeling of each other’s skin. When you part you are on your back, and he holds himself above you on his elbow.

With one last kiss and a soft press of his brow against yours, Ivar leans his weight on you, moving so that his head rests against your chest, his arm secure around your waist.

With one hand absently tracing his back and the other going up and down the arm that he wrapped around you, you lose track of time.

“You are…” He stops, adjusts himself on his place, before trying again, “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, you know? And I don’t mean because of this, I mean…” Ivar sighs, a barely-there moment where his arm holds you to him a little tighter, and confesses, “I had never known what it was like to feel…safe, loved, before you.”

“Ivar…”

He lifts his head slightly, looks at you, offers you a smile that is a little crooked, as if he isn’t making your heart tremble in your chest.

“You know this already, it shouldn’t surprise you. And you know me, and you love me,” There’s an edge of wonder in his voice when he says that. He looks into your eyes, and promises quietly, “I thank the Gods for you, ever since that first day,” His smile turns surer, a little mad, “I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, woman.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And what about what I want?” You tease, fingers running through his loose hair.

He goes along with your game, and there’s a shine in his eyes that speaks of familiar defiance.

“Contrary to what you seem to think, princess, I don’t like being denied.”

“I never deny you,” You retort, a light chuckle on your lips, “I just…delay.”

“Hm, I don’t like delays either.”

“I know, you’re too impatient. That’s why I have those.” You motion with your head to the red silk ribbons that hang from the headboard.

Ivar chuckles quietly, but says nothing against it, dropping his head against your chest again and sighing.

Your smile doesn’t dim, even if it becomes softer, move lovesick. You press a kiss over his hair, and with the solid but comfortable weight of him against you, you close your eyes.

____ ____ ____

Hi, thank you for reading! I hope this was okay! Would love to hear your thoughts on this one! Love ya!

Btw, the title is in reference to Fenrir’s Binding with Gleipnir, which is supposed to be “soft and smooth as a silken ribbon, but (..) sure and strong” (Gylfaginning). I took it to mean the underlying aspects of submission, especially with a gentler domme (how when you tie him up with something he can break easily, it is something stronger than that silk what’s keeping him from breaking free. Same thing with any act of submission, it doesn’t necessarily have to involve bondage of course), and also to refer to the Ivar himself when in that submissive position. Anyway, yes, for that heretic take the Gods probably frown down upon me.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

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His Dark Materials - Season 2 Episode 5 (rambles)

I only realized last week, there’s only 7 episodes this series because the eighth would have been the Asriel centric one. So only two left now after tonight! :(

Also I finished the book during the last week so I am so READY

Ahh gotta love that London traffic!

I don’t know why but the Golden Monkey wearing a seatbelt SENT ME

Mrs Coulter is watching the mother and baby :(

Boreal saying that our world is barbaric and our world is corrupt is so accurate tbh I’m not even mad

Will literally just threw the knife into the wall omfg watch it!

Red PAN-da is becoming a permanent fixture in this show apparently

Lyra’s hair was so pretty this episode? Her costume too obviously but her hair had me in awe

The theme music to this show gives me literal chills

Boreal is evil but his house is A-fucking-plus

Okay but how does Ruth Wilson always look so gorgeous and fluid in this show?!?

Her faking nearly dropping one of Boreal’s precious collection pieces and him panicking 😅

Mrs Coulter’s little “hmm” and smile... we love a Queen

“Why are we whispering?” “I don’t know” - LMFAO

“Will, you left the window open” - LMAO and also please don’t do that, that’s like one of the BIG rules about the knife!

“He’s getting good at this” “he is” - we love a supportive feral wild girl and her dæmon

Mrs Coulter looking bored as fuck as Boreal plays his music is such a damn mood

“You’d like it here too” - Umm NO STOP PLEASE SHE DOESNT WANT IT

“Carlo, can you make that stop?” - OMG 🤣

“You’re far too conspicuous like that” - but she’s not??? She just looks like a posh well dressed woman, maybe that’s not common in this world but she looks fine??

Boreal picking out clothes he’s obviously got just for her is... eww. Just ewww.

Her reaction to the jeans/clothes though XD

“Would you mind?” - YEAH BOREAL STOP CREEPING AND FUCK OFF PLEASE

“Maybe it’s time we issue a firm denial of the tear in the sky” BRO IT’S LITERALLY HUGE AND RIGHT THERE YOU CAN’T PRETEND IT AIN’T

Oh shit the Magisterium know about that witches going to the new world + the massacre

MacPhail literally imprisoned Father Graves and for WHAT?! I think the power’s getting to him (which I know it the point but still!)

MRS COULTER SHUT THE DOOR ON HER DÆMON I’M-

Okay so I know it’s been implied/said that Mrs Coulter can go far away from the monkey already, and that they maybe have been through some kind of process that’s made that a thing, but like DAMN.

“I’m sure you’ve encountered witches in your travels” - if I hadn’t already read the books, I would be asking if she IS a witch tbh like omg

This is probably one of the few times I’ll say this but... I feel so sorry for the monkey?? Just him watching her as she leaves from the window... like that’s so sad. I get why she couldn’t exactly walk around with a monkey but urgh

“I apologize if she was a nuisance” “She wasn’t a nuisance!” - Oof you tell her, Mary

“You must be so proud.” “... I am.” - OOF

Mary showing that she’s better fit to be a parent to Lyra than Lyra’s real mother tbh

Damn Marisa disappeared FAST

Mary really googled Mrs Coulter I’m-

“You must play the serpent” “hornbeam” “save the girl and the boy” - IT’S HAPPENING IM GOING TO CRY IM SO EXCITED

The computer turning completely off and the room going dark before going red OH MY GOD

“Oh shut it, Pan” - LMAO

OH NO OH NO ANGELICA FOUND TULLIO AND SHE IS PISSED D:

A+ acting from Bella Ramsay by the way

“We WILL get you” - OH SHIT

The fact that Will feels guilty over fighting and inadvertently getting Tullio attacked by spectres because he has the knife :’(

It’s so sweet to see Lyra and Pan comforting him though

“I’m not judging” - Mary’s sister says while totally judging her for reading the Holy Bible. She probably thinks she’s about to rejoin the convent!

I find the relationship between Marisa and the monkey so interesting?? I’m so intrigued by it

“Do they drink in this world?” “That, they do well.” - LMFAO ACCURATE THOUGH

“I found her arrogant, like many women in this world.” - umm, FUCK you, Boreal you misogynistic sexist piece of shit

So Mrs Coulter was denied a doctorate despite being the best in her class because she’s a woman, and they would only have published her papers if they were by a man. I’m starting to see why she got upset when she met Mary, who’s got her own office and a doctorate and is head of the department/project

“Who I could have been in this world” - oh shIT

The way she started talking about how she felt after the whole affair/baby ordeal, followed by “we’re not talking about Asriel, we’re talking about ME” - FUCK. I love Ruth Wilson’s portrayal, I love it

“You’ve spent your time trading trinkets” - lmfao you tell him ma’am

“Were you hoping to add me to your little collection?” “I was hoping this would be a life for you here” - oh god I hate it, fuck right off Carlo

“If you got me, you wouldn’t even begin to know what to do with me” - oh SHIT :O

Lyra turning up to distract them so Will could have the chance to cut a window and steal the Alethiometer had me on the edge of my seat

Let’s be real right now, the whole last 15 minutes? THE MOST TENSE AND INCREDIBLE PIECE OF TELEVISION ASDFGHJKL

Mrs Coulter’s face when she saw Lyra at the door :’(

Also she nearly saw Will and I was sitting there praying she wouldn’t find him, I was so worried even though I’ve literally just reread the book

So um THE FUCKING MONKEY BASTARD JUMPSCARED ME AND I AUDIBLY YELLED SO LOUDLY HOLY HECK

The way that Lyra saw her mum and immediately tried to run away though, she just keeps trying to yeet herself away from her parents and I honestly don’t blame her at all

Boreal was being truly extra in the way he dropped his snake dæmon out of his sleeve like that whilst advancing on Will

“Why would I trust you?” TRUTH

Coulter saying for Lyra to stay away from Will and getting super teary eyed makes me think she’s worried Lyra will suffer like she did? Like she’s worried that Lyra will suffer at the hands of men and be in the same situation she was I think? And that’s so sad but nuanced

“I am NOTHING like you.”

So Lyra did this little head move like Marisa did in 1x02, when she made the monkey attack Pan to subdue Lyra - AND THEN PAN ATTACKED THE MONKEY JUST LIKE THAT, LITERALLY EXACTLY THE SAME, AND MRS COULTER FALLING TO THE FLOOR AND CLUTCHING THE SOFA LIKE LYRA DID?? AND LYRA WATCHING WITH THIS COLD LOOK ON HER FACE?!

SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE A COMPARISON GIFSET BECAUSE IM CRYING

I love Will getting mad at Boreal taunting him over his mum, and immediately starting to punch him

HE SMASHED THAT COLLECTION PIECE ON BOREAL’S HEAD FUCK YEAH WILL 👏🏻

That was a DAMN close escape, holy fuck, but she’s got the Alethiometer back!

“The man who hurt you, I wanted to kill him” - same Lyra

I was so emotional when she was talking about how Marisa used her dæmon to hurt her and Pan, and Will saying that he’s never worried about his mum hurting him... the comparison is so sad

“I hope I’m not like either of my parents” - I mean I don’t blame her tbh

SHE CONSIDERED MA COSTA AND LEE SCORESBY TO BE BETTER PARENT FIGURES TO BE LIKE I’M CRYING

So Mrs Coulter is definitely planning some shit, like she didn’t seem that concerned when Boreal was talking about the Spectres, and like obviously I know what happens but I’ve always been intrigued as to why the Spectres listen to her instead of just attacking her. Also is it something to do with her dæmon? Like if they ARE separated in some way, maybe the Spectres don’t feed on her because it’s Dust or something? (Idk if that makes any sense)

“Deceive the guardian... okay... okay...” honestly same XD

Mary pretending to be Mrs Coulter to get past the guard is such a brilliant idea, like she just ran with it immediately, we have to stan a Queen who keeps a calm head

SHE WENT THROUGH THE WINDOW AND INTO THE CITY AAAAHHHH

The angels said they’d protect her, right? So she doesn’t need to fear the Spectres I’m assuming (I need to assume or I’ll worry)

The promo for next week was literally half what we saw THIS week and half Lee/John Parry footage I’m assuming is next week... ?

The fact there’s only two episodes left makes me so sad :( I have no idea what I’ll do waiting for the final series - and I’m assuming it’ll be delayed maybe because of Covid. Plus I’m hoping we get the extra episode NEXT series, the one that was Asriel-centred and supposed to be in this one but wasn’t filmed because of Coronavirus, so fingers crossed! 🤞

#his dark materials #hdm #lyra belacqua #marisa coulter #will parry #pantalaimon #lord boreal #charles latrom #the golden monkey #golden monkey #philip pullman #the subtle knife #dafne keen #ruth wilson #amir wilson

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mlm-writer · 4 years

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The Long Ride (John Kennex x GN!Reader)

Pairing: John Kennex x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: E for Explicit but also for Emotional Words: 2026 Summary: John has issues with his synthetic leg. You want to help him, but you can’t if he stays in denial about having a synthetic leg in the first place. Oh and you ride him to show you can have a good time without the leg. The sex is very emotional. Note: Ok I know the request said smut and there is smut, but I also have so many emotions when it comes to John Kennex. I would die for this man. I mean look at him. Fluffy hair and puppy face and that body hgdjksgasflsjfk Tags: Emotional sex, psychological rejection of his synthetic leg, communication, riding, protected sex (AS IT SHOULD BE), hurt/comfort, angst, swearing and idk man I got carried away

“God fucking dammit,” John cursed as his synthetic leg ran out of batteries, making him lose his balance and slip. You closed your eyes, but your boyfriend was dexterous enough to push himself out of the way, causing him to fall face-down next to you rather than on top of you. A string of curses left him as he struggled to change his position.

“Relax, it’s been a long day,” you reassured him as you helped him getting in a sitting position against the headboard. “We should’ve charged it over dinner, but we’ll do that next time, yeah?” You smiled at him as you sat on your knees in front of him. He looked beyond angry and you knew it was not a mild inconvenience that got him riled up like this. You never complained about your sex life, but it was less than ideal half the time. John’s leg had a record of acting up, but as long as it had battery life left, John tried to ignore it and muscle through. It was a huge mood killer.

John pretended like his synthetic leg was a real one and he was not disabled, so you tried playing along. The truth was, he was disabled. He did need special care and you didn’t mind that. What you did mind was pretending he did not need special care, just to stroke his ego.

“Sorry, tonight’s a bust,” your man muttered, not even looking you in the eye. You kissed his cheek. You tried to keep it at that, but he pulled you back in for a kiss on the lips. You loved how he kissed you. John was not short on passion. He was known for his passion for his job, but even that was nothing compared to how precious and loved he could make you feel with just one kiss. Your hand ended up on his chest as he ravished your mouth. It travelled lower, resting on his lower abdomen, afraid that he didn’t want to do anything anymore tonight and that you were pressuring him into more.

You had a feeling you were right when John took a gentle hold of your wrist and lifted your hand away. You pulled away, your other hand cupping his face. “There’s lots of things we can still do, love, but we don't have to do anything if you don’t feel like it,” you whispered. Your smile disappeared as John’s face turned sour. Sometimes it just was too easy to say the wrong thing to him.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fucking made of glass. This stupid…” He pushed you aside to forcefully remove his leg. You wanted to help him, but knew that he did not want help right now. “Leg! Isn’t even made of… Fuck!” He leaned back and covered his face with one hand, when he failed to get the thing off. You wanted to get it off for him, but John was pretty clear on how he felt about his leg, even though you never talked about it. He always kept your hands away from it by either changing positions or holding your hand.

“John, don’t take your anger out on me,” you warned him. He let out a grunt in response. You sighed and moved to get off the bed, but John had taken a hold of your hand in a second.

“I’m not angry at you.”

“I know you’re allergic to apologies, but just say you’re sorry and look at me.”

John sighed, removed the hand from his face and looked at you. He looked older now, tired, a little resigned. “I’m sorry.” You had hoped for more, but it was a start. You shifted on the bed, showing you were no longer leaving, but John kept a hold of your hand, his eyes trained there to avoid looking at yours. “I know our sex life sucks, so I kind of hate it when you pretend it doesn’t,” he confessed.

You chuckled. “The only sucking our sex life is doing is how often I got your dick in my mouth,” you joked. John finally looked at your face, probably trying to guess if you hated sucking his dick or not. “The rest just has been… inconvenient,” you placed a hand on John’s thigh, but far enough above the line where it was no longer organic, “but that’s because you try to act like your leg is normal.�� John looked hurt by your words and you felt sorry to break the news to him. “I know you hate the leg, but pretending it works just as fine as your other one is just not working. I don’t mind the leg, but you got a shitty attitude about it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “So what you’re saying is the problem is not the leg, but it’s me?” You winced. That’s what you said, but you didn’t mean it like that. “No, it’s okay baby. I get it. I just… I want to do right by you. I don’t want you to feel like I need special care.”

“But you do, John!” You groaned in frustration. “That leg needs special care to work properly and if you don’t give it that care, it will work like a shit machine. I’m not gonna carry you around, but maybe let me help you remind charging it, cleaning it and maybe rub in some oil from time to time. I would just really like it if you just stopped blaming the leg and start looking at how you take care of it.” You didn’t mean to rant, but the frustration was up to your head to the point that you didn’t realise you were still naked, until John casually pulled the sheets towards you. You took them, covering yourself a little.

“Okay, noted,” John sighed, clearly doing some mental work to not throw a tantrum right now. There was an awkward silence between you. Things were said and you both needed to process a little. John ended up breaking the silence. “Could you… help me getting the leg off?” You were surprised that he was just ready to let you touch it out of nowhere. You hummed and pushed the sheets off his right thigh, your fingers gentle but quick to remove it. You’ve seen it often enough to know how it should be done… and you asked Dorian. Either way, it required the gentle touch John never had with it.

The leg came off smoothly and you discarded the sheets to get up and put it on the charger. You admittedly stuck your ass out a little more than needed, knowing John liked looking at it. “You know… I am still a little loose and slick from our foreplay,” you mused. You couldn’t help it. Your favourite detective was naked in bed and had prepped you earlier to get his dick inside you. It was a waste to just ignore that effort.

“Babe, I love it when you get me off, but I wanted you to have a good time tonight.” You crawled onto the bed, smirking in his face.

“I will, if you let me ride you like this.” You saw John swallow heavily, the idea rolling in his mind.

“Grab the lube and condom,” he ordered and you happily obliged. You wanted to take care of everything, but John insisted on getting himself hard and ready to fuck himself. You sighed, before leaning back, shamelessly watching him. “Not complaining now you get to enjoy the show, are you?”

You huffed. “Two can play that game, detective.” You leaned back on one arm, your other travelling down your body until you reach your crotch. You briefly remove your hand to stick two fingers in your mouth. You got as much saliva on them as possible, before slipping one finger inside you. It met with little resistance, so you joined the second one immediately. You lifted your leg, giving yourself a little more room to finger yourself. The sight certainly helped John. You were just about to enjoy yourself, when your boyfriend was ready to go. You eagerly straddled him, using your clean hand to pull him into a hungry kiss. John ravaged your mouth. You reached behind you, guiding his cock towards your hole. You rubbed it over your entrance, your breath getting heavier.

“Stop teasing,” John grunted, his voice always ten times sexier when he was turned on. Usually you would challenge him, but he was right. You pressed your hips down onto his cock, shaking when the head entered you.

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You put your hands on his shoulders and rode the head of his cock. He kissed your neck, sucking and biting a little, leaving small red marks that would be gone by morning. You needed more and pressed down further, moaning when you got his entire length inside you. John was not particularly big, but he had a delicious girth. Your hole was tight around him, dragging over his cock as you rode him.

You were enjoying yourself, your head thrown back while you fucked yourself on your boyfriend’s cock with abandon. John could never do a very fast pace, because his leg never cooperated, but you were not limited by that. “Fuck, baby, slow down,” John groaned, his fingers finding your ass and digging into the soft flesh there.

“Don’t want to,” you replied, every word a moan. You whined when John lifted you off his cock with his strong hands on your ass.

“Stop being greedy, baby,” he warned, making you moan at the voice he used. You nodded, knowing you had to agree or he would keep you there, all empty, for longer than you wanted. He stopped keeping you up and lowered you back down on his cock. You rolled your hips, keeping a slower pace. “That’s good,” John praised, his eyes locked with yours, “you’re so sexy and,” he stopped to let out a small moan himself, “I love you.”

You cried. He had said it before, but it felt different after the emotional debacle from earlier. “I love you too,” you said, before grabbing his face and bringing your lips together. You stopped moving for a moment, his cock balls deep in you as you kissed him as if you hadn’t done so for months. “I love you so much, John, and I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy so much.” Emotions poured out and John led you through them, his hands and lips reassuring, letting you have your moment, before wiping your tears away.

“I hope I can make you happy,” he whispered. You continued to move, your hips moving slowly over his cock, making you feel every inch of it entering and pulling out of you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed yours.

“You do,” you told him, your hips gradually moving faster. You went back to your original fast pace, making yourself see stars on John’s length. “I want you to cum while inside me,” you whispered in his ear. He groaned, his hands on your hips and helping you. He came first and you rode him through it. One raspy whisper in your ear and you came undone as well, his cock all the way inside you and not a single need for anything but that to make you see stars and cum.

He held you in the aftermath, listening to you rambling how much you loved him. You knew he probably did not know how to deal with your words, but he would have to figure that out himself. Once you stopped, he helped you get off him. You plopped down beside him, resting against his shoulder and hugging his arm. He complained as you made tying off the condom hard. He tossed it onto the floor to be dealt with later. His head came to rest on yours and you could not feel happier.

“You should ride me more often.”

You laughed.

“I will. After all,” you snuggled against him, “I’m with you for the long ride.”

#john kennex x reader #john kennex #john kennex x male reader #almost human #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #reader insert #amputee #karl urban x gender neutral reader #bottom reader

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vnderoo · 4 years

Text

a/n: hi this is my first tumblr imagine i’ve ever written so pls don’t butcher me. i also left y/n gender neutral bc idk how each of you reading this identify and it’s not fair of me to just assume. :)

word count: 1.7k

sweet melody || h.h.

In a whole other life, there was this boy that I knew

Let’s start from the beginning.

y/n and Harry went way back. They grew up together–attached by the hip. Wherever he was, they would be and vice versa. Their parents were close to one another so the two spent more than enough time together. Harry, Sam, and y/n considered themselves the “Three Musketeers”.

As year 5 approached, the small clique made a solemn oath to be best friends forever. No matter the highs and lows, they were always going to be there for one another.

Year 10 was when things started changing for everyone. Feelings were being developed and fears came into play.

y/n was under the impression that Harry went on a date when in reality, he was out with his other friends.

“I don’t know why I’m jealous. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.” they paced back and forth.

“Maybe you like him.” Sam said, unphased.

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I see it all.” y/n was still confused. “Alright, let me elaborate.” Sam stood up, “you look at him as if he were the only person in the world, you laugh at his jokes when they aren’t even close to being funny. You lie and say his cooking is good when you know it’s criminal–Tess could cook better than him and she doesn’t even have opposable fingers.”

“That’s just me trying to boost his confidence a little.” y/n shrugged.

“y/n, when you talk about him, your eyes glow. You’re a lot more attentive when it comes to him compared to when it comes to me–which is offensive by the way.” Sam only had platonic feelings for y/n.

“You know I love you both.”

“But it’s different with him. Everyone sees it. You, my friend, are just in denial.”

What y/n didn’t know was that Harry felt the same way.

He made me feel like a woman, we were young and silly fools

“I just don’t want this to change our friendship.” y/n sighed.

“Listen, I love you, way too much, to let our relationship fail. And if it does, which it won’t, I’m not going to let you go. We’ve been friends for too long for us to just part ways.”

“What if we do break up and it makes everything awkward for Sam? I don’t want him to be put in that position.”

“Everything is going to be okay, I promise.” he kissed her head.

Gave him too many chances, push my keys too many times Anyway, he'd start acting up, and I'd be on my way to leave

Duty would call and Harry’d have to leave for work. Whether it be for his own work or to tag along with Tom on his press tour(s). y/n understood that. But there were also things that they didn’t understand about it all.

“Harry, I get that you have to go for months on end, but never talking to me? It’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.”

Harry turned around, “What? Of course you matter to me.”

“It doesn’t feel like I do.” y/n tried to keep their composure but the more the argument went on, the more they wanted to break down. They were frustrated. It seemed like nothing they said was landing on Harry and he wasn’t really listening. “While you’re gone, I don’t get a call or so little as a text from you.”

“I text you ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. What more do you want from me?”

At this point, y/n just wanted to lay in bed and cry this away. This didn’t feel like the Harry that left all those months ago. Things that y/n had been feeling for so long are finally coming to the surface. They felt sidelined, they felt sad, they sometimes felt like a burden.

“I want to hear about how your day went. I want to hear about how the tour is going or how your videos or pictures are coming along. I just want to hear you talk. I want to be part of your life but you’re making it impossible to do so. I sit here, stressed, not knowing how you’re doing, not knowing if you’re okay. The amount of work I have to consume myself in to get away from reality for a bit is too much, Harry.”

Sang me sweet melodies But the day he did me wrong The song couldn't go on and on

This was it. This was their breaking point. Neither of them wanted to admit it but they knew it was happening. The relationship was dying and there was nothing they could possibly do to save it anymore. It didn’t matter how much or how little either one of them wanted to fix this, things were too damaged to be fixed.

“I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” y/n cried, “I can’t sit here and wait for you to come home all the damn time. Sometimes Sam doesn’t even know where you are so I can’t even get peace from him even if I wanted to. But even Sam has talked to you more than I have in the several months that you’ve been gone. This is the longest conversation we’ve had since you left.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” Harry yelled. “Maybe we were fools to fall in love with each other and pursue this relationship. We shouldn’t have pushed for it but we did and look at where it’s gotten us.”

Four years of pure bliss had been tainted by his words. y/n was hurt.

“That’s because you stopped trying.” y/n walked out the door and didn’t turn back.

Yes, when he came along, that's when I lost a groove There was no song in the world to sing along or make me move

The first few months post-breakup, y/n didn’t do anything. They had little to no motivation to do anything. All they did was lie in bed and watched the days go by. They were emotionally drained.

They found it difficult to move on because they spent four years only knowing Harry. His touch, his scent, his smile, his essence. They didn’t know how or when to start dating again. What was considered the “right time”? Everything now seemed suffocating and confusing.

As more months went by, y/n realized that this wasn’t the end of the world. They were going to meet other people and move on from this relationship. This breakup was nothing but another bump in the road, as people often say. They were going to fall in love again and it’s going to hurt just as bad, but it was time to move on.

He used to sing me sweet melodies He played me, made me believe it was real love

It’s been a couple years since y/n and Harry spoke to each other directly. They still kept up with each other, but they never talked. They only ever really asked about each other through Sam or their parents. Much to both of their dismay, this relationship took a negative toll on their friendship. The Three Musketeers were no more. The promise the three of them made all those years ago was broken.

Sometimes y/n would go into town and remember all the shops that they went into with Harry. All the memories they shared just walking through the town. Conversations they’d had about the oddest things.

Harry still had pictures of them on his phone. A reminder of the relationship he once had with y/n, both the times before and after they started dating.

It would be pointless to pretend that they didn’t miss each other. It was apparent to them and everyone they surrounded themselves with. Their friends and family would urge them to talk to each other but they always said no. Why? Harry didn’t want to because he would then be reminded that y/n was right when they said he gave up on them. y/n always said no because they didn’t want to be reminded of how they felt up until the end of the argument the day of the breakup.

Sam finished culinary school and was holding a gathering to celebrate the occasion. Of course y/n was going because 1. it gave them a reason to dress up and 2. Sam was their best friend and emotional support system throughout the time that they were processing the breakup. He was their best friend. They knew that Harry was going to be there but they weren’t going to let that stop them from going.

y/n was standing in line to get a drink when Harry had approached them.

“Hey.” he gave a sheepish smile.

“Hey.” y/n replied. They wanted to crumble into his arms and have him hold them as he used to. They were finally seeing each other in person for the first time in forever.

“You look nice.”

“Thank you.” y/n looked at him, “I like your sweater.”

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been good. and you?”

“Hanging in there.” the two stood there in silence before he spoke up once more, “I miss you.”

y/n sighed, “me too.”

They both knew that each person meant it platonically. The final moments of their relationship was so destructive that it led to them not being friends anymore.

“We should hang out some time or something. Grab a bite to eat.”

Going out with him would just bring more chaos into their lives. Never ending questions of whether or not there’s room to get back together would pop up from everyone around them. Their relationship wasn’t something that they needed to be reminded of, all the good and bad.

“I… I gotta go. It was good seeing you again though.” y/n smiled and walked away. They wanted to be part of his world again but there was no room for it. They were walking away from someone they once loved for so long and for some strange reason, they were content with it.

The song couldn’t go on and on and on, no

#harry holland #harry holland imagine #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #stream sweet melody

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nghtmrsndydrms · 4 years

Text

Lucifer - Lee ; Michael - Meg

Long story short, an analysis between Lucifer and Lee and Michael and Meg. Why 5x01 is an unfinished case and how it’ll all come to maybe play in 5x16.

Lee and Lucifer

o Back at 4x01, Lucifer said, “Money to cover any debts that you owe… and have a chance of a new life. A chance for people to see you in a different way.” What if Lee, just like Lucifer, did change and turned his life around. He stopped stealing, because well, he did get a fortune out of Lucifer, it could be he hasn’t paid his debts yet, him assuming he’d live long enough to still have enough money if ever someone asks for him to pay his debts.

o Just like Lucifer, who over time slowly changed for the better, though sometimes he’d still be causing some trouble here and there.

o In Lee’s hell loop, he talked about how his mom got sick and then died only to followed by his dad – how he missed his chance to get together with his family one last time – that he didn’t show his face to them, that he left instead.

o This could also be just like Luci’s case, how after his fall (him leaving heaven, his home, not to be seen again) Mum grew unhinged, locked up in hell, then ended up with her own universe – she’s not dead but she’s good as dead to them because Luci threw the key (sword) away. Also, with the upcoming issue with Dad how he’s getting old and janky now.

Meg and Michael

o Meg describing Lee that he runs with the sketchy crowd, how he was a magnet for everything bad, that he was stuck in a vicious cycle and was bound to come down sooner or later. Then say she hasn’t seen the man in years – that she can’t say he knew the man anymore.

o Michael trying to act like Lucifer but failing because he thinks, just like Meg, that he knew his brother, who is bad, who will always be bad but in the end – he was proven wrong.

o Michael went down to earth to break Lucifer’s things (his found family) after some of their brothers and sisters started praising him (Lucifer! Lucifer! Lucifer!). At first, he wanted to prove them wrong, he’d break his ‘things’ to lure him topside to prove everyone that Lucifer didn’t change, but then changed his mind and decided to take everything from him.

o What if Meg also heard the same, rumors about her brother how he stopped stealing (well because he received a fortune from Lucifer way back in 4x01, why would he still have the need to steal), owned a lot of properties now, and living his life to the fullest. While nothing changed for her much, she still lives in the house that she inherited from their parents 15 years ago. So, for a change she would be the one to steal from him – thus, the hired killer.

o They both tried to live righteously – Michael in heaven, Meg an upright citizen, assuming since she’s not a convict (yet) – so just like Michael said – why are they praising a convict?

o Michael lies, Meg could have lied.

How could this parallel be reflected to Michael and Lucifer’s relationship in the future:

I know the scenes listed seemed to mirror with what Chloe and Lucifer were feeling with him leaving/returning (depends on who’s POV you’re looking at) to earth but it can also be a foreshadowing for what the twins would soon have to face:

o Meg admitted that she’s in denial, that Lee’s death doesn’t affect her, but the truth is she misses him. (Like how Chloe still misses Lucifer but –)

o This could be soon mirrored by Michael, that he’s actually acting out not only because he’s jealous but how he actually misses his brother – his twin. He may have his issues with Lucifer, but they were twins and they may have grown apart over time, but I could easily see when both were younger, they were inseparable probably causing mayhem everywhere they went.

o Assuming that the theory 1x10 is going to be mirrored in S5B – that Lucifer is the intended inheritor of the throne of god – then Lee saying that his family invited him and waiting for him could soon be Lucifer with his own family. Lee said he was invited, but they didn’t mean it, which could be that by the time Dad tells Lucifer the truth behind his fall, how all of it was a test and a preparation for him in soon inheriting and ruling over everything, Lucifer would also make excuses. Because just like Lee, Lucifer’s afraid to screw things up because it’s so easy to ruin anything when you finally have everything.

o When Lee said, “I missed my chance. What about you?” Lucifer actually did miss his chance, when it comes to him returning to Chloe, Chloe almost died and was only saved because Michael showed up. He only came back when Amenadiel went down to tell him what’s happening topside. Which might also happen in the future. Lucifer initially rejecting Dad’s ‘inheritance’, only for something bad happening to Chloe before he does finally accept it.

o Chloe dying and going to heaven might actually be the only reason for him to accept his place in heaven. But that doesn’t mean that Chloe would remain dead (she could be like Eve; made with the hands of god). After all Lee might become the first soul to ever escape his hell loop and end up in heaven. Lucifer would introduce them to each other then Lee realizes that maybe it wasn’t his old crew – maybe it was Meg.

So why Meg?

Facts

o Gill, the killer, was hired for 20 grand (demon didn’t finish what he had to say only said about the vault)

o The demon’s intel and Lee’s credit card statements led them to a safe at You Stored It (Meg already there)

o The hand was in Meg’s Kitchen

o Lee’s old crew didn’t find the money in the safe (they could have taken and used the hand and got to the safe before Meg, Chloe, and Maze)

Speculations

o Meg hired Gill – she could have made a copy of Lee’s hand fingerprints to use to open the safe before decomposition started with the hand. (idk can fingerprints be copied? I hope so)

o Lee’s old crew found out it’s Meg because Gill spilled the beans

o Meg laughed when Lee’s old crew said the safe was empty when they got there

o Meg already have the money, hid it, returned to You Stored It to know if Gill really told somebody else, and waited for anybody who may be after the money in the safe

o Chloe’s been suspicious of her since they saw her at You Stored It and when she laughed while facing Lee’s old crew at gun point

o Also, someone has already said this but all the actual suspects/victims for this season is either in disguise or was lying or pretending to be someone else.

#lucifer analysis #lucifer speculation #lucifer meta #lucifer theory #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #deckerstar #lucifer season 5 #lucifer s5a #lucifer s5 part one #really sad devil guy #mine

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rivalsforlife · 4 years

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"Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?” / “You have three answers?” / “Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”" and the rest of the scene if you want to haha, not a lot fits in the ask box :P

Alright!! I’ll do... most of the scene haha, there is one part of the scene I really want to point out, so I’ll once again put this under a keep reading so I don’t take up all this space on people’s dashboards...

Okay!

So basically this part of the scene existed because... I kind of wanted to touch on Miles’ perspective throughout this entire fic as well as a handful of headcanons for Miles and also so that I could fit in a bunch of narumitsu fluff in there somewhere, since my notes for this chapter were pretty much to just shove as much fluff as possible to make up for the rest of it.

In some ways I’m kind of regretting talking about Miles’ perspective because that reduces some of my flexibility for possibly rewriting this fic entirely from Miles’ perspective OR the handful of jumbled scenes that could potentially form a sequel someday... but honestly writing has been like pulling teeth lately so who knows if that will happen at all. Either way I’m sure I’ll be able to get it to work somehow. (Also kind of... directly pointing out what Miles was feeling when it probably would’ve been a better decision to leave it implicit but WHATEVER TOO LATE NOW --)

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Miles didn’t say anything, and Phoenix might have thought he fell asleep again if it weren’t for his breathing. It didn’t line up with what Phoenix had learned from experience, when Miles fell asleep.

Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?”

“You have three answers?”

when you’re Miles Edgeworth emotions are waaaaay more complicated than they need to be huh. Since this scene was just Dumping Ground For My Headcanons they for the most part tend to line up with what I think most of the time, buuut I might go into more detail a little later.

“Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”

Phoenix shushed him by clapping a hand over his mouth, except he missed in the dark and slapped Miles’ nose instead. “Whoops! Sorry. Okay. Give me all four.”

aww see they can laugh about it now like Miles didn’t cry for several hours after the rejection :’)

“I should have guessed,” Miles sighed. He used the hand not currently squished against his side by Phoenix’s entire body to hold Phoenix’s hand, guiding it down from his face and holding it against his chest.

This is me trying to find a way to write affection in a way that isn’t totally awkward... uh so basicallyyyy I am not a very affectionate person and I don’t think Miles is particularly big on physical affection most of the time, so when I write him trying to express affection I typically go for subtler things... like hand-holding and such, because I think even that much would be a pretty big deal for him when it wouldn’t be for some other people.

Pretty much every time in this fic he initiates any form of physical touch (which is pretty often because he is attempting to Court Phoenix (ba dum tshhh)) it’s something that he’s deliberately thought through and deliberately initiated, as opposed to like... Phoenix who does it more unconsciously. (And of course not all of Miles’ initiation of physical affection is strictly romantic, I like to headcanon him making an effort towards platonic physical affection as well towards his friends + found family members... just putting this here to cover my bases so no one thinks every time Miles puts his hand on someone’s shoulder he’s flirting with them haha that’s NOT what I was going for, more that he’s aware that lots of people enjoy physical contact and see that as a way of expressing affection, and he’s trying to get better at expressing affection, and Phoenix happens to be one of those people he is expressing affection to, in both the platonic and romantic sense.)

(That was a very long paragraph for literally one sentence about affection hahahaha...)

“Well, I am fairly sure I had a crush on you in fourth grade.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a crush on you in fourth grade, I changed my whole career for you because of it. You were in love with your law books.”

“I told you I ‘liked’ you and you started talking about girls.”

“O-Okay, sorry I didn’t know about bisexuality when I was nine, give me a break here.”

I waver back and forth on whether Miles had a little baby crush on Phoenix in fourth grade or not, I guess when I wrote this I was feeling that way! Anyways this line is referencing the flashback part of chapter 3:

“Do you like anyone, Miles?”

Miles blinked. “I like you.”

Phoenix’s face reddened. “N-No, I meant like-like. You know, like a girl.”

Miles looked at the ground, and his face was red as well.

this fic would have been over with SO MUCH FASTER if Phoenix actually knew what he meant there --

My interpretation is pretty much always that Phoenix had a little baby crush on Miles in fourth grade, but it wasn’t until he got older that he realized that it was a crush and not just pure idolization -- which was definitely part of it too, and I could probably write thousands of words on how baby Phoenix’s idolization crush on Miles when he was younger shaped some of their interactions throughout the trilogy but I’m not going to get into that now. I thiiink I said in this fic somewhere that Phoenix didn’t realize he was bi until he was in his teens, so baby Phoenix just thought that Miles was His Best Friend Who He Wants To Hang Out With All The Time And Hold Hands With And If Miles Were A Girl Phoenix Would Want To Kiss Him, and at some point adult Phoenix remembers this train of thought and goes “... wait.”

As for Miles, in the universe of this fic he figures out that he’s gay pretty young, probably largely influenced by Larry talking constantly about girls while Miles complains to his father “I don’t know why Larry’s talking about how pretty [girl of the day] is, I think Phoenix has a nicer smile” while Gregory tries to pretend his laughter is him choking on his dinner. And I think Gregory was an excellent father who loved and supported his son, and probably talked about it a bit with him and made sure Miles knew he was always loved and supported no matter what and --

Anyways, there’s that.

The next paragraphs are mostly them talking about the situations where Miles did fall in love with Phoenix (Turnabout Goodbyes) and then realized it (after Farewell, My Turnabout/ when Phoenix fell off the bridge) then kind of... repressed it until post-canon because he didn’t think he was ready yet and they weren’t really in the right place. I don’t have much to say about it because it’s all pretty straightforward stuff...

Then Phoenix deflects Miles asking about when he fell in love, because Phoenix is still struggling a bit with expressing his emotions this way haha. Also because he was in denial for a really long time so he can’t quite pinpoint exact moments aside from “the moment Miles stood up for him during the class trial”, but much like Miles he’s probably had multiple realizations of love throughout his life.

My personal headcanons though is that Phoenix genuinely thought he was just helping out a friend throughout the trilogy... and then sometime during disbarment, possibly during one of those Europe trips, he realizes “oh crap I loved him the whole time”. Obviously in this fic Phoenix doesn’t realize he’s in love with Miles until the cherry blossom petals scene at the end of chapter 4 and then can’t quite articulate that feeling as love rather than more general attraction until the end of chapter 8 after reading Trucy’s note. (Where the last psyche-lock breaks!)

What I DO want to talk about though is this line at the end of the scene:

“It doesn’t matter when I realized it,” Phoenix whispered. “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now.”

No one’s pointed it out so idk if it was too subtle or too obvious that it didn’t need pointing out, but it’s a callback to this line in chapter 4:

Edgeworth stared at him with an unreadable expression, almost curious. “Well, you don’t have to say anything,” he said. “What matters most is that I can be here with you now.”

It’s a very slight difference in the last part of the dialogue, but an important one!!

I had an interesting conversation with my best friend a while ago... long story short her brother was in a relationship for a long time with this one woman then they broke up and now he’s engaged to a different woman, and they dated for a shorter time than the first. And my friend says that she and her family knew that this was a different relationship and that she was “the one” because the way they talked about doing things was different -- more of a “we’re going to do [x]” rather than “she and I are going to do [x]”. This probably isn’t really a real thing so like... don’t use it to judge relationships around you... but I thought it was pretty neat.

So in the conversation in chapter 4, Miles says “What matters most is that I can be here with you now”, which is still like exceptionally romantic, but it still sees the two of them as separate entities -- whereas Phoenix in chapter 9 saying “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now” sort of phrases the two of them as more of a unit. ... not that they’re not still separate entities with their own lives outside of just each other of course but you know. you know. just having some fun with sentences!

Anyways that’s what I really wanted to talk about... I hope you enjoyed!!

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #asks

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futurewriter2000 · 5 years

Text

Flipping Through the Memories of You - pt. 3

A/N: This part might be a bit confusing but I really love it, the whole idea actually and I know I haven’t really been productive in my writings but man idk what has gotten into me. I used to be writin fics every day but now my ideas are like...gone...somehwhere...in the...void? Imma just let your read it now and let me know what you think of it. All the love <3

It wasn’t easy getting where he did but as hard as he thought it was, knocking on the door was even more challenging. He raised his fist, he was prepared to knock but there it was. The rumble.

“James! I told you to wash those dishes!” your voice echoed from the other side and he felt his heart stop. His heart stopped and it felt like forever that he continued to stand at the doormat with his fist ready to knock. Though everything in his body felt numb; a wooden man has he felt.

“I was about to!” a young man's voice echoed as well, followed by angry stomping.

“I said now, James! Not later when you pretend to be asleep!” you continued to scold.

“Mum! I can’t find my PJ’s.” a little girls’ voice came into Sirius hearing.

“Hey, Marlie.” the boy’ s voice, different, older came as well. “Don’t worry mum. I’ll take care of Marls and James-” he groaned. “Clean up the bloody mess already.”

Mum? As in mother? You were a mother?

Of course, how could he have been so stupid! If you were alive, you were probably moving on from him. But-

“May I help you with anything?” another voice came but this one was coming from his side of the door. Sirius turned to see a man, tall and with a brawny figure, standing and showing off his dazzling smile.

“Uh- I-uh.” Sirius seems to stutter with no words in his mind.

“You look familiar.” the man pointed out his finger and Sirius began to sweat in his leather jacket. “I saw you in some of my wife’s photos.” his smile now stretched even wider. “You’re- what’s the name again. Something starry.” he put his arm on Sirius's shoulder.

Wife. He called her his wife.

“Sirius.”

“Sirius!” the man beamed and laughed. “It is so nice to meet you, Sirius- wow! Finally some of her friends from school.”

Friends were one way of putting it. - Sirius thought.

“Why don’t you come in? Is she expecting you?” asked the man and before Sirius could answer there came a crash from the other side.

“JAMES!”

“IT FELL!” the boy defended and the man beside Sirius chuckled.

“Kids.” he shook his head and opened the door. “I’m home!” he shouted through the hall and all of a sudden there was a small boy, around ten years old and with a big smile running towards the man, hugging him with his wet hands.

“Dad!” he shouted and kept hugging his father.

And it wasn’t just that his name was the exact as Sirius’ best friend’s but he looked just like him. Almost like Harry except that the boy’s eyes were hazel, just like James’.

“Daddy!” the girl came into the view, running in his father’s arms and giggling as he picked her up and spun her in his arms. She looked exactly like him. Dark black hair and dark brown hair. She was his copy.

“Hey, Princess.” he kissed her head and then turned to Sirius. “Kids. Meet Sirius.” he smiled and the kids stared.

“These are all yours?” Sirius asked and the man smiled.

“I damn hope so.” he laughed and then walked in the living room with his daughter by his side. “They are all mine, right?” he teased and you chuckled.

“To every cell in their body.” you wrapped your arms around your husband and kissed him on the lips.

“It always sounds so sexy when you say it.” he continued to tease and you just giggled in his arms. “Also there is someone to see you.”

“Really?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“An old friend.” your husband winked. “Just saw him standing in front of the door.”

You kept looking at your husbands’ dark eyes, wondering was he messing with you or not but as you walked into the hall, you felt your heart about to give in. There he was- so bloody perfect- so damn breath-taking as if you were back fifteen years ago. His gorgeous locks, dazing eyes- his figure was a bit different, slimmer if you tried to use the right word.

You couldn’t know what to think, what to do but tears still seem to fall down your cheeks. You weren’t sure if he would take you in his arms or not but you still ran to him as if nothing else mattered anymore.

Your arms were wrapped tight around him as his were around you. He lifted you off your feet, held you close to him as he could. “I thought you were dead.” he whispered in a shaky voice. “I thought I lost you forever.”

“I could say the same for you.” you pulled away, cupping his cheeks and running your hands through his hair.

You missed that. You missed him.

But he wasn’t your life anymore. He wasn’t. Your husband was. Your children were.

“Uh- what are you doing here?” you backed away, looking back at your husband, your son who took a hold of your waist and up-stairs where your eldest kept himself. It got you nervous.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he smiled. “You.” he tried to cup your cheeks but you moved away. Not now. Not when you didn’t have the explanation of the past.

You turned to your husband, walking up and placing your hand on his grown beard. “You don’t mind if we go take a walk. Flip through some old memories?” you asked and he gently smiled at you.

“No. Not at all.” he kissed your forehead and looked at his daughter. “And you are going to have me as the story-teller.” he kissed his daughter and she laughed.

You ruffled your son’s hair, kissed your daughter, your husband, grabbed your coat and left with Sirius.

---

It was silent for the first few minutes, only the two of you walking and enjoying the fall’s sunset. The sun shining on the corners of the orange, red and yellow leaves. They were crunching under your feet and you felt yourself giggle at the sound.

Sirius knew why. You loved stepping on leaves at the end of autumn. It was your guilty pleasure and he adored each time you decided to turn into a kid and jump on every leaf in your eyesight. He felt himself giggle at the thought of you stepping on one and feeling disappointed when it didn’t leave a crunch.

But despite all the good memories that ran through his head, his question was the only thing that mattered.

“What happened?” he asked and finally broke the silence. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was... for a moment or two.” you shrugged, looking at the stars. “To be honest, I don’t remember that day much. I was upset about Marlene. I was sobbing down the streets because of our fight and when they cornered me, I couldn’t think.” you looked at him, moving your head to the bench and with his permission you sat on it. “I didn’t know what to do when I heard them cast the killing curse at me but the magic inside of me, the Pheonix inside, he just came out without my permission and protected me from the killing curse.” you paused. “I woke up alive and well, somewhere on the top of the hill but my magic? My magic was gone and when I didn’t have my magic, I didn’t have anything. I couldn’t contact the wizarding world and to be honest, I didn’t want to after hearing you were taken to Azkaban. After hearing James died as well- and I just couldn’t face death anymore. So I left.”

Sirius was quiet for so long until he locked his eyes with you. “And you got married.”

“And I got married.”

“And you got two kids.”

“And I got three kids.” you corrected him.

He shot his head to you, scrunching the space on his forehead. “Three?”

“There’s the oldest, Elijah.” you shuffled your feet but before you could continue he cut you off.

“Elijah,” he repeated, smiling. “I love that name.” he looked up at the stars and closed his eyes.

‘-- Your fingers were interlaced with his and your eyes were set on his. His free hand played with your hair, brushing them gently as the two of you just laid in silence.

“Would you ever marry me?” he blurted out and you scoffed, thinking it was another joke but Sirius now knew that he was always being dead serious.

“And have the curse of carrying your last name?” you joked and he chuckled.

“I’m being serious.” he looked down and you grinned. “You know what I mean.” he rolled his eyes again, knowing your thinking far too well.

“(y/n) Black?” you squinted your eyes and tried to imagine the name written down somewhere. “I mean, I don’t know about the name but I think our three children would have some wonderful genes.” you continued to joke and he laughed again.

“Three?!” he scoffed. “I don’t share you.” he tightened his grip around you. “No way I’m sharing you with three other humans but glad to know you’re already thinking further than marrying me.” he kissed your head and now it was your turn to make his eye gesture.

“How many would you have?”

“One. A son. Elijah.”

“And what if it’s a girl?” you asked from curiosity.

“Then if she looks anything like you, I’ll be the luckiest man alive.” ‘---

“James and Marlene.” he looked at you from the corner of his eyes and smiled. “Our best friends.”

“Yeah.” you put your cold hands between your knees and shivered. “Elijah is the eldest, 15- then there’s James, he’s 10 and Marlene, who just turned 8 last month.” you smiled.

“Wow.” he marveled at you. “They are all so-” he stopped, pondering the thought that just came into his head- running, smashing into the deepest parts of his brain. “Did you say 15?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you but you continued to smile.

He was away for 14 years, how could Elijah be 15 years old already.

“What are you thinking, Sirius?” the vision in front of him started to blur, your face becoming more and more foreign. “Wait? Do you really think Elijah is your son?” you stood up, starting to cackle. “Sirius Black?! A father? I wasn’t that dumb to make the same mistake as actually being with you for three years.”

Everything around him started to disappear, only an ally and you and him. What was happening?

“You left, Sirius- no. I left because you said you hated me. YOU HATE ME!”

“No! No, I never hated you, (y/n)! I loved you! I still love you!” he shouted denial.

You crossed your arms over your chest, scoffing. “That’s not what you said the last time. Sounded pretty honest there.” you were now further away in the blurriness of his mind.

He was lost. He didn’t know what was happening.

“All I wanted was to save my best friend, Sirius.” your voice echoed through his ears, loud- too loud. “I wanted to save my best friend as you did yours. WHY DIDN’T YOU TOLD ME TO STAY!?” the voice shouted but your lips didn’t move. He grabbed his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“This isn’t real.” he mumbled to himself.

“YOU LET ME DIE!” it continued.

“You’re not the real (y/n).” he continued to mumble, trying to stay right in his mind but his heart was ripping itself to shreds.

“Yeah, Sirius.” another, different yet familiar voice came to his hearing.

Sirius shot his head up, eyes opened. “Marls?” he smiled because there she was, young and beautiful, just as he remembered her. Her hair was as vibrant red as he remembered. He felt like crying of joy until he noticed Marlene held the same expression as you.

“Why did you let us die? She just wanted to save me.”

“No. You were already dead- you still are.” he shook his head.

“You could have saved us both, Sirius.” she continued and Sirius’ heart ripped again and again like it had never-ending layers that just couldn’t stop hurting when it ripped and tore.

“Why couldn’t you save us?” another voice, the one that hurt Sirius the most. There he was. James with Lily and a baby in his arms.

“Prongs.” Sirius fell on his knees and looking up at his best friend. He wanted to shed tears but no tears came. He couldn’t cry but he wanted to. He wanted to release.

“You were too late, Sirius. I offered you my home, my friendship, my family- I even made you the Godfather of our son but you couldn’t even keep him safe, could you. You ripped him off his childhood.” his words cut deep and Sirius felt he couldn’t keep himself together anymore.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” you were standing above him, all four of you in a circle, while Sirius was kneeling in the middle.

“I did! I tried to!” he shouted.

“Why didn’t you save me, Sirius?” Marlene began to become more pale, her vibrant red hair colour losing its perfect shade.

“You were already dead! I couldn’t save you! I would!” he screamed but everybody was closing in on him.

“Why were you late, Sirius? Why couldn’t you take care of our baby?” Lily spoke, her skin turning to ash.

“I- I- Please. I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!” he pleaded, shouting at them but they kept closing in.

Sirius felt his anxiety closing in. Everything became too tight as if he couldn’t move, as if he was immobilized in his own body. He was uncomfortable in his own skin. It as tight, suffocating, hot... He pleaded his mind to wake up but what he didn’t know was that he has already woken up.

His eyes were opened wide yet his mouth was shut, his body was still not awake, a contrast to his mind that was screaming out. He was afraid, terrified, petrified from what was happening. His heart kept beating fast, despite how much his nightmare ripped it kept it pounding in his chest, trying to get out. He couldn’t move his arms, nor legs, nor anything for that matter. He was paralyzed whole. Like wood a wooden man has he felt. His fingers felt in his own palms, the bed below him felt like it wasn’t even.

Sirius was in agony.

Until the other half of the brain finally decided to wake up, sending signals to wake up his muscles- body to take control. He could feel those signals reach his body and it resulted in numbness first before everything started to function.

When Sirius knew he could control his body again, he started to sob. It wasn’t only because he got to see a beautiful life you could have had if you were truly alive but also because he was in a heartbreak. James, Lily, Marlene- why would they say those things if it weren’t true. It broke his heart to the point it pained him in his chest. It hurt so much that all he could do was cry in his own arms because he didn’t have anybody else but himself. Everybody was gone.

Sirius was alone.

#Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #peter pettigrew #petter pettigrew imagine #marauders #marauders imagine #maruaders imagines #golden trio era #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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somebody-already-took-this-url · 5 years

Text

I have something to share with you, and I would really appreciate it if you'd listen. I recently (like, very very recently) forced myself out of over a decade of self denial about my sexuality. And I know y'all don't care, but it's really important to me that I get this all out there, and if you read this whole thing you'll understand why.

Okay, so for the past ten years I've been telling myself and everyone else that I'm bisexual. But the truth is I'm not, I'm actually 100% lesbian. But. I don't know, I guess I was so ashamed of my truth that I needed to pretend to be something I'm not. So for the past decade, while calling myself bisexual, I dated and fucked around with several people, all dudes (hello, that bitch heteronormative-societal-pressure is calling) and well, not a single instance of those relationships was ever satisfying, sexually or emotionally. I remember when I was, what 10? 11? And watched Once Upon a Time for the first time. Seeing Lana Parrilla as Regina Mills - that was the moment I recognized that I was interested in girls. And I'd like to blame some external source for why I decided that must mean I'm bisexual and not gay... but in reality I think it had more to do with my own fear, my own insecurities.

After being thrust into the knowledge that I liked women, I spent a few months trying out labels (bi, pan, etc) but never really let myself consider lesbian as an option. Because up until that point, it had always been a given that I liked guys, you know? Like, straight is the default setting for sexuality (which, don't even get me started) and even though my family is and always has been very accepting and liberal minded, straight was still what they believed me to be as I had never indicated differently.

But now I was armed with my queer self knowledge, right? And the summer before high school I actually did come out to my best female friend at the time as a lesbian, and she was all "that's cool whatever" and part of me felt like I needed, I don't know, more acknowledgment? It was really difficult for me to come out to her, really difficult to even let myself say that I was a lesbian, and she basically didn't give a fuck. Which, don't get me wrong - I don't blame her for at all. We were 13 yrs old ffs! But it made me feel like maybe I was wrong, and I wasn't actually gay. Put on top of that all the adults in my life telling me that I couldn't possibly know who I was, that I was still growing up and therefore everything about me would change...and yeah, I began to doubt myself. Began to doubt if I knew myself at all, I was like "I'm 13, I used to hate bananas and now I like them...how can I know for sure I'm even gay?"

Anyways, so I'd just come out to my bff but then high school started - and I'm not sure if y'all know this but high school in 2012 was extremely heteronormative. My school wasn't anti gay or anything, but there's a lot of unconscious pressure from your peers to be in relationships, and when you're one of what, three gay people? you kinda can't be in a relationship ya know? So me, who was already questioning my self knowledge, decided that I must be bisexual instead of gay. And I dated like 3 people just in my first year lmao (all dudes of course).

Well, at the end of grade nine some really bad shit happened to me. Someone older than me who I trusted and considered a friend decided it would be cool to drug me and then try to get me to have sex with them in the "secret hallway" at our school. ANYWAYS not the point!!! The point is that after that, I labelled myself asexual and basically swore off sex forever.

The thing was, I kept on developing crushes on the girls in my classes. And every time that happened, I would force myself to ignore it and then I would go and flirt with some guy instead, because I might have been interested in both but who wants to be that one weird girl who flirts with girls that don't want to be flirted with? I certainly didn't. But guys we're always so easy, idk, they were all pretty desperate back then. Lmao that sounds harsh but I stg it's true. 15/16 yr old boys are like a whole nother level of thirsty.

I continued to develop crushes on girls, and have meaningless relationships with guys. I even briefly had a flirtationship with a girl in grade 10 (I went to a different high school for like a semester) which lasted a whole week lol. And then in 11th grade I had a relationship with my best friend at the time, who was a guy I'd been really good friends with since 5th grade. And it was both super easy and super hard, if that makes sense? I knew him well and we were really comfortable with each other - but I was also a lesbian pretending to be bisexual, so every time we did anything remotely sexual it was like totally ew.

We tried to have sex, but my vagina was like "ahaha bitch you thought" so that never happened. I actually tried to have sex two other times with two other guys after that, and each time my vagina was not having it. It was an instance of my body knowing me better than my mind, but I didn't want to listen.

Then this past fall, I decided to go out with this guy I worked with. It had been uh, wow, 2 years since my last relationship, and tbh even though I wasn't interested in dating him at all I felt like it might as well happen. Basically that John Mulaney joke about how adult life is already so goddamn weird. Also, after being single for that long my fam was getting pretty annoying with all the "when are you going to get a bf" shit so yeah, basically I caved to the pressure and went out with this guy Richard.

We went on maybe four dates, and it was so incredibly underwhelming that after not seeing or hearing from him for a month after the job ended, he called me and I was like "Richard who?"

Guys. I had legit forgotten about him. Completely, like he'd been erased from my mind, that was how insignificant he was. But it made me start to wonder; how can this guy, who I'd tried to have sex with, be so meaningless to me? Why am I so indifferent?

I sat down with myself, and took the time to have a long look at the parts of me I'd always kept hidden away. I came to the realization that I wasn't bisexual, that I'd never been bisexual, and that I am actually gay as fuck. Part of this realization was me letting myself rediscover my super gay love for Lily Tomlin. She is one of my fav actresses and her movie All Of Me was my favourite film for half my life. But because I was so busy forcing myself to be Not Gay™, I'd made myself ignore her, and a lot of other female actresses and celebrities who I adore in exchange for male celebrities.

But even after I made the realization that I'm gay and not bi, a part of my brain was like "but what if you're not tho". There was still a big part of me that was trying to force me back into denial, force me into hiding from myself. A part of me thought "if I'm gay, wouldn't someone have noticed? Wouldn't my family have known?" In hindsight it was actually super obvious, but I guess I did a good job of hiding it from myself and everyone around me.

It took me three weeks to actually say the words "I'm a lesbian" out loud to somebody other than myself, and when I did it was the scariest fucking thing I've ever done. My sister was really amazing about it though, and I'm so grateful to her for that. And after telling her, after forcing myself to say it to another human being, the part of my brain that was trying to get me to lie to myself got a little smaller.

When I told my mom a few days later, it was slightly easier to say out loud, and when I changed my bios on my social media (which I'd been avoiding like the plague) my need for self denial shrunk again. But it's still there, in a corner of my mind. The little voice of self doubt, trying to convince me that I'm wrong, that I can't be gay, that I should keep hiding.

That's why I needed to tell y'all this. Because the more people I tell, the more times I say it out loud, the more I make it known - the smaller that voice gets. The less power it holds over me. The more real the truth, my truth, becomes.

My name is Mara, I am 20 years old and I am a lesbian. Now you know my truth.

#mara speaks #my truth #coming out #lesbian #personal #please be gentle #this was really hard for me to write okay #but i needed to say it #and i need to keep saying it #and tbh im finally ready to admit this to y'all #its so freeing to be able to write this and not care what people think

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spookyfloof · 6 years

Text

Be My Escape (Ch. 9) - END

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Pairing: Shiro/Pidge (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Strong Language, Sexual Content [Consensual, M/F] (Warnings vary by chapter)

Summary: Amidst her growing fears for her family and the pressures of being a Paladin, Pidge’s feelings for Shiro only intensify. But is it really love, or the need to escape that’s drawing her to him?

Note: This last chapter is very....bittersweet. I just can’t resist writing angst you guys ...even though reading it hurts my soul

Thank you forever to anyone who’s stuck around to the end. You’re my favorite and I love you! 🖤💚

(I might write something as a sequel that’ll take place after Shiro’s found in S3 or post-canon. Idk yet. Since VLD is ending this year, I’ll probably decide after watching it.)

Read on AO3

The nightmares didn't stop.

He saw her again, poised on the victim's seat while he waited to face his prosecution.

Katie's face held no hatred or contempt, only a look of despair.

His friends and family, hers even more, all glared, their eyes pointed at him like knives at his throat.

They started murmuring, the sound a hum like droning bees. Then a shout from someone on the witness stand...

…Lance?

“He's guilty! There's blood on his hands!”

He said this as though someone would have to be blind not to see it, but Shiro wasn't sure what he meant.

“Right there!” he went on and jabbed his finger further in his direction.

Shiro looked down at his sweaty palms shadowed underneath the table he sat at. He flexed his fingers... but no blood.

By some unknown force he jumped to his feet and leveled his hands on the tabletop as he did.

“Your Honor, I object!” he exclaimed to the figure in the judge's bench.

“On what grounds?”the voice asked without emotion. Everyone else's voice was distinct, some familiar, some not, yet the judge... their voice was nebulous, neither foreign nor familiar. Their face was both hidden and yet somehow unimpeded.

Shiro moved to show his hands, but found them stuck.

He looked down, faced with the image of red seeming to ooze from his fingers. He tugged, trying to pry himself away, but did so in vain. Panic set in and his steel eyes flew to Lance and the judge.

“Your Honor, please!” he said, but despite no discernible features, he could tell the figure had no sympathy for him. If anything, impatience.

Still, he tried. “This is a mistake!”

He tugged again, but they wouldn't budge and the puddle only grew bigger, threatening to spill off the table and onto his feet.

Lance and the others scowled, the chatter picking up once again.

Pidge said nothing, did nothing. Until now, she didn't even acknowledge him.

But then, only then, she turned to him, though the movement was stiff and unnatural. Her eyes, big and brown and glossy trained on him and he froze.

She opened her mouth as though time had slowed to a crawl. Then her eyes turned hard, callous and unforgiving, and out of her mouth the judge's voice, “Overruled!”

And the gavel slammed down, booming in his ear.

He started awake to Pidge in one of his shirts and what looked like basketball shorts clutching her left foot and her face screwed in a tight grimace.

“Ahh... Fuck!” she hissed.

“Pidge?”

She hopped over to the far edge of the bed where she knelt and massaged her toes.

“Sorry. I was trying not to wake you up...” she explained like it a confession. “Just going to the bathroom.”

He blinked and rubbed at the inner corners of his eyes with the fingers of his synthetic hand.

“That's fine,” he said, his voice coarse from sleep. He cleared his throat, “What happened?”

“Stubbed my toe.” She squeezed her smallest toe in emphasis.

“Are you okay?”

Her stance was awkward and she seemed reluctant to sit down.

“I'm fine. Go back to sleep.”

She got up, continuing to face him as she did. He was about to question her, but she gave him that smile again, the one from only hours ago...

–

Everything had been perfect, as perfect as it could be, but their peace, their fantasy of normalcy came to a grinding halt.

He should've known.

He should've known from the way the light didn't reflect in her eyes. The way her bangs were always in the way, hiding how her smiles didn't reach her eyes.

He should have seen it, but he didn't. None of them did.

Her mouth was dry.

Her knees were planted on either side of his naked hips, and in the dark, with only the faint light of this planet's moon seeping through the window, she remembered thinking he was somehow even more gorgeous.

Shiro caressed her legs as he watched her too, noting how taut her muscles were and how her fingers curled on his stomach.

“We don't have to if it hurts-”

“No!” she said with a little too much force. It did hurt, but she didn't want to stop. She'd gone this far, she wasn't about to give up now.

She pressed down a little more, gaining almost no ground.

“Pidge, it's okay, really,” he tried to assure her, but she wouldn't have it.

“Shiro, please!”

Her voice cracked on her frustration and the edge of something he didn't recognize at the time. He merely sighed, saying nothing, his hands continuing to glide over her skin.

He should've stopped her.

Pidge's chest rose and fell. She wanted this more than anything, she reminded herself, so why....?

Eventually, Shiro sat himself up, his lips meeting hers and cupped her face in his hands.

“You really are beautiful, Katie,” he thought to himself, knowing any comments would only frustrate her further.

He brushed her bangs out of her eyes still downcast and focused on the task at hand. He kissed one of her eyelids and she blinked, granting him only a glance in return.

He smiled at that – she never did like to be interrupted when she was focused on something.

Pidge sucked in a breath and steeled herself, her eyes closed.

“Relax, Pidge...relax. Just get it over with,” she willed. Then to both their surprise, she forced herself down, letting Shiro pierce her in one swift motion.

His eyes went wide as saucers, but Pidge threw herself into his chest before he could see hers.

Shiro had to say something now. Her entire body had turned to steel in his arms. And her walls were so tight around him it almost hurt.

“Katie?” he whispered and tilted his head to try to get a good look at her.

She grimaced, but refused to so much as whimper despite the stabbing pain inside her.

“I'm fine,” she whispered back, “Please... let me do this.”

Gently, she pushed him back onto the mattress and he gave in, still trying to search her face for any sign something was wrong.

She moved her body up and down, her movements stiff but determined. He would be a liar not to admit it'd started to feel good. God, she was so tight and warm and slick. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed sex.

He wasn't sure how long he could last at this rate.

“Fuck...Katie...” The words drifted from his lips like a prayer.

He almost didn't notice how quiet she'd gotten nor the bite of metal in the air. Almost. It was when he opened his eyes and caught a flash of hers in the moonlight did he realize something was terribly wrong.

He bolted upright, his hands on her face once more. He wouldn't let her hide from him this time.

“Katie? Katie look at me!”

Despite herself, she let him. Her eyes met his and they were both so... empty. Nothing like the ones so full of life and charm he was used to... the ones he found himself falling for.

His thumb stroked her cheek desperately as his gaze darted over every inch of her face.

“Katie, what's wrong? Please talk to me! Please!”

She still said nothing, and that's when he noticed the scent of blood. Immediately, he knew why and looked down at his softening prick still inside her. Though the room was dark, he could see the smear of blood between them.

“I'm so stupid,” he groaned.

He lifted her off of him and gathered her into his arms as though she were bits of fragmented glass. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, her temples, her hair, over and over.

“I'm sorry, Katie, I'm sorry,” he apologized and she still said nothing. Her silence was killing him. “You didn't have to... We didn't have to...”

She was still so stiff even as he cradled her.

“Does it really hurt?” he asked, “I can take you to the medical wing.”

She shook her head. Finally a response.

“Katie...”

He didn't know what else to say, only knew he had to say something. He couldn't bare more silence.

Pidge swallowed at the lump in her throat. Once. Twice. But it wouldn't go down. She opened her mouth anyway, her lips trembling as she did.

“He's...he's gone.”

His eyebrows bunched and she felt him tense.

“Who's gone?”

She tried again, knowing her voice would fail her soon.

“Dad.”

And as she said this, his skin turned cold.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Dad,” she mewled, “Dad's dead!” She couldn't even pretend to keep her composure anymore as the words burst from her, paving the way for a flood of tears.

He shook his head in denial. “How?” he wanted to ask. They would've known. Their allies would've told them. How did she know?

He'd missed her arrival that morning from another mission to search for her family. She'd gone alone, much to his disapproval, but out of necessity rather than choice.

The only ones there to greet her at the Castle were Hunk and Coran and the little rogue she was bypassed them easily.

She'd hid it from them. From him.

He should've known.

Did anyone else know?

“How did it happen? When? What about Matt? Why did she have to be the one to find out?”

As much as he wanted to, he didn't dare ask any of the questions careening through his mind.

“Katie... I don't... I'm so sorry...”

“Stop,” she begged, “Just stop. Just shut up. Please shut up.” Her hands reached out to try to push him, but when he resisted, they clung to him instead. Then without warning, she flung him off of her and bolted to her feet.

“It's not fair!” she screamed while she paced the confines of his tidy room, forgetting how naked she was, and her palms digging into her eyes. “It's not fair, Takashi! It's not fair!” The last word came out as a shriek.

“I know, Katie, I know...”

“No! No, you don't! You don't know! You don't fucking know!”

She found the nearest wall and banged a fist and her forehead against it as her rage dissolved into sobs.

Shiro jumped from the bed, ignoring his own lack of modesty and spun her towards him. She pushed him away, her countless hours of combat training kicking in now. But Shiro was bigger, stronger, and while she was faster, he had far more practice.

He overpowered her quickly and trapped her arms under his. He held her as tight to him as he could even after she gave in.

It was the only thing he could think to do.

–

The words came to him easily even as he fought off sleep, lying there beside Pidge while his hand smoothed over her hair and exposed cheek.

“When this is over, when the war is over, we'll go home,” Shiro said, “Me, you and Matt.”

“We'll go home. I'll meet Colleen properly this time. I'll tell her how perfect you are and give this a real shot... if you'll let me. We'll bake peanut butter cookies. Real ones. And lay in bed watching movies. I'll take you on a real date, somewhere nice. Just you and me. We'll watch the sunset on the beach. I'll be real romantic and cheesy. We'll play all your favorite video games.”

His hand lingered and his eyes blinked slowly.

She reached up to cover his hand with her own.

“I'd like that,” she said softly. Her throat felt full, her eyes puffy, and dried tears made the skin on her face feel tight.

Shiro blinked and forced his own eyes wider so he wouldn't be tempted to drift off.

“Me too.”

She was quiet again and for a moment he thought she'd fallen asleep.

“Promise me when it's over we can do that.” She looped her pinky finger around his before he had a chance to answer and squeezed.

He returned the gesture without hesitation. He'd promise her anything if it could make it right. He decided he would end this war, with his bare hands if he had to. Not just for the universe, or for Earth and all the Paladins' families, but for her. Above all else, he'd end it for her.

No more loss, he swore. No more pain.

–

In the coming days, it became clear they couldn't keep this news a secret. “We need to tell the others,” he'd said, “They'll figure it out even if we don't.” And while she resented the idea, she knew he was right. They were a team, a family, and they'd realize something was wrong sooner than later. It was bad enough they were keeping one secret, but the last thing she wanted was their sympathy. The only ones who really understood were Coran and Allura and Keith. They didn't make her feel like some kind of pity project. Grieving or not, she was still the Green Paladin and just as capable as she'd ever been.

“I am not sitting this one out!” she'd snapped at Lance while Keith and Hunk were already halfway to their lions. “I'm still a member of this team whether you like it or not!”

“That's not what I meant, I just...”

Shiro stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It's fine, Lance,” he said, “Let's move.”

He was the last to descend his elevator, clearly taken aback by the whole exchange.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he defended himself again, though too quietly for Coran or the princess on the dais behind him to even hear.

But even as things went back to normal, as normal as they could be, Shiro realized he couldn't do it anymore. Not after the nightmares. Not after what happened. And not while they grew so close to fighting Zarkon head on, everything they'd been working towards finally coming to a head.

Pidge insisted it didn't matter, that whatever they had between them, the sex, had nothing to do with it.

But he couldn't stand the guilt.

If the rest of the team knew... what would they do? What would they think of their dear leader? Lance already knew and while the Blue Paladin didn't hate him, he was clear about his objections.

“Then tell them! I don't care who knows anymore. There's nothing to hide! You're not a monster!”

He wanted to believe that – he truly did, and a part of him almost managed to. But a much stronger, more dominant part wouldn't let him.

“Let's just... wait... okay? I meant what I said, about when this is over and doing things right, but right now... Right now I just can't.”

Pidge crossed her arms on the kitchen counter and frowned at him from across the room, a half empty cup of hot chocolate at her fingertips.

His own cup he rotated back and forth between his palms.

“I care about you too much.”

She watched him, analyzing him, then he said it – just a few simple words she didn't know how much she needed to hear:

“I love you too much.”

He'd been staring at his hands until that moment when he looked her in the eyes, not a hint of reservation to be found.

But she didn't understand what he meant. How he could feel that way yet not want to be with her. How he could just say something like that! It was absurd, illogical, and it made her want to scream.

She didn't understand then.

And after their battle with Zarkon, while she stared at the empty cockpit of the Black Lion, she didn't understand now.

But he'd promised they'd go home together. He promised they'd start over and do things right. And Shiro never broke a promise. So she refused to cry.

They would find him, she decided despite anything and everything – him and her brother. Whatever it took, they would find him.

And they did.

#be my escape #shidge #shidge fanfic #shidge fanfiction #fanfiction #voltron #mint oreo #space flower #my writing #so anyway here's more shidge :)))#i'm not super pleased with this as the final chapter but I hope it's ok >->#i tried

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spideychelle-romanogers · 7 years

Text

How Hard I’m Trying To (Repost)

Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself - Part 1

Peter finally realizes his girlfriend has an amazing ass.

A/N: Okay, let me explain. Basically, I was thinking about how people obsess over Tom Holland’s ass but tbh when I see Zendaya’s ass, I’m of the opinion that it’s like “Tom who? idk her”. So to say that Peter Parker is not an ass man is inherently bad for society. And thus this series was born. (Reposting because it wouldn’t show up on the tag.)

Tags: Spideychelle, smut || Masterlist || T/W: explicit content, nsfw

Peter did not have wandering eyes. It was a habit he never learned to begin with. His mother was very involved as a parent, as was Aunt May, and he was pretty sure if anyone killed that habit before it could ever start, it was them.

On the other hand, he was a feminist and also, you know, not a pig.

So he never really got the concept of checking anyone out. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the appeal, he just couldn’t imagine doing that to a real person.

It translated to all things, really, between knowing the abuses of the porn industry and watching too many sad stripper movies on Lifetime after May fell asleep, Peter basically just learned to avert his eyes in all situations.

Also in his defense, he only ever had one real girlfriend in his life and he’d be cutting her short if he focused too long on how beautiful she was, especially when she had so many other qualities to focus on.

So Peter was basically sheltered to the point where after the year it took him to admit his feelings to Michelle, and the year it took for them to start sleeping together, he still felt uncomfortable staring at her for too long, even during sex.

It was a habit Michelle still hadn’t picked up on.

Peter always knew he was a little clueless but it never really came up. Michelle was new to the whole concept, except she was always very blatant about her own female gaze.

Actually it was a little embarrassing. Michelle was almost a little too easy about discussing Peter’s body. Every time a joke at his expense ended on a positive note about his ass, he turned tomato red until the conversation ended.

And Peter is very stubborn to clarify, it’s not that he doesn’t love sex. Or Michelle’s body. He couldn’t find words for either mainly because he’d rather choke than discuss it, but he enjoyed both more than he could say.

It was all just very embarrassing for him to think about in the first place.

Ned and Flash made fun of him enough times for him to pick up that his level of sexual cluelessness was odd for someone who wasn’t a virgin. So long as Michelle didn’t notice, though, Peter was comfortable ignoring them. That is, until they were mid-session in his room and Michelle introduced an idea.

After crying out for the third time since they started, Peter could tell something was wrong. He’d heard something about her falling during gym class. When he asked, she just wanted to pretend it was fine. She finally pulled away when she tried to arch her back and stopped midway.

“Do we need to stop?” Peter asked. Michelle shook her head.

“My back is just killing me. It’s fine.”

“We have to stop if it’s hurting you.”

“No, no. I’ll just turn around.” Peter didn’t ask, but she could read the confusion on his face. “What?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like….I’ll just turn around.” She didn’t know what was so surprising to him but he still looked entirely unsettled. Michelle figured maybe he was joking but the longer the staring match lasted, the more she lost hope.

“….Seriously?” she asked, genuinely lost. “Peter.”

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never done that before,” he said, his voice shrinking.

“It’s not brain surgery, Peter.”

“I don’t want to mess up,” he answered cautiously.

Michelle was surprised, but Peter could only be relieved she wasn’t laughing at him. “Just trust me?” she asked. He nodded.

When she turned over, Peter wasn’t quite sure why he felt so nervous but his anxiety amped up when he saw her lie on her stomach and arch up again.

“Shit.”

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice a little high.

Peter’s whole body was screaming for him to stop staring say something but he didn’t really feel in control for the moment. “Peter?” Michelle chimed. He was just lucky she wasn’t looking back. Trying to find his voice and stop lamenting the modest clothes Michelle wore that kept him from this realization, he croaked out, “um, what now?”

"That part’s pretty obvious, Peter.”

“Right.” He winced, knowing he must have sounded like an idiot. Ghosting his hand over her, he didn’t really know where to grab her. He had half an impulse to ask but he’d risked too much of whatever reputation he had left with her.

Lightly putting a hand on the lowest part of her spine, he very gently avoided touching her….there.

And he refused to register the issue because he wanted to maintain denial of his current predicament. If Michelle even so much as turned, she’d catch him, and he was doing his very best to stop himself from saying anything.

“Peter, if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have t-”

“No!” he piped up too loudly.

Deciding anything was better than moving from this very spot, Peter tried to get his focus together just long enough. Swallowing his nerves, he lined himself up and held his breath as though he was about to do something dire. Holding her at her back for balance, Peter lightly pushed in, never admitting to himself he had his eyes down to watch himself enter.

Judging by Michelle’s sigh, she didn’t notice but Peter felt embarrassed of himself. He was probably also blushing but he was grateful he couldn’t feel it with everything else going on. Trying not to watch her ass crash against him was perhaps the greatest exercise in self-control he’d ever challenged himself with. It was just in the way her entire body moved for every thrust.

Peter was holding his eyes shut as he felt Michelle move beneath him, matching his pace easily as she rocked against him. With every move her breathing would get more labored. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Michelle interrupted his thoughts.

“Are you okay?” she asked, slowing down. Peter grabbed her sides and kept their pace desperately. She gasped and lowered herself onto her elbows, changing the sensation for both of them. Peter’s breaths were short as he grabbed her thighs hard to pull her against him. He was careful at first, waiting until Michelle started moaning to continue. His grip was tight on her as he looked down again to watch her ass slap against him as he willed himself to go deeper each time.

It occurred to him that it was getting rough. Before he could worry long, Michelle cried out. “Are you okay?” he checked calmly, knowing it didn’t sound like she was hurt.

Michelle turned to look at him over her shoulder and before she could say much, her jaw loosened, her mouth hanging open just a little as she held back another moan. Peter didn’t wait to hear what she was going to say, not with a view like that. As he continued, she finally found her words.

“Harder,” it was barely a whisper but Peter could not have heard her more clearly. He’d been asked for plenty in their time together, but never that. Maybe ‘faster’, maybe 'more’, but never 'harder’. Biting his lip as he watched her face, he practically growled when she arched back into him while rolling her hips. Remembering himself, he leaned forward and met her eyes as he gently kissed whatever parts of her back he could reach.

With a faint smile, she turned forward as Peter changed his grip on her thighs. He saw Michelle reach a hand underneath herself and he moaned. Just thinking about her touching herself made him more determined to grant her request.

Moving his hands to her waist instead, he took on a new pace as he gripped her tight, waiting for a reaction. She didn’t protest. His grip turned a little rough at her sides as he relentlessly pulled her to him, but he kept an eye out for any sign of problems. Instead, she met him with no resistance and unintelligible moans that he reciprocated when he wasn’t burying his head into her shoulder. His hands made their way down until they were on her hips.

As he propped himself up again, he shamelessly watched her hips pumping his length. He found himself daring to slide his fingers back a bit to grab her by the ass.

“Peter!” Though his initial reaction was worry, he realized it was a warning as she frantically sought out more friction before she collapsed further on the bed, her knees going weak. One of his hands moved to help prop her up but his thrusts only became more intense as he tried to catch up with her as she violently fell over the edge.

Licking his lips, Peter didn’t really know what sparked this behavior but as he got more bold, the hand on her hip just squeezed her ass as he gently lowered his hips to follow hers down as he used the momentum to go deeper. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he realized he had no time left. He barely managed to put out a hand so he could hover over her as he rode out his orgasm, the other hand still trained on her ass with a hard grip.

As his breathing readjusted, he could barely hear Michelle speak between deep breaths. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked when he found the air.

“You know, a few minutes ago, you had no idea what I was talking about?”

“And?”

“That’s just not a normal first time performance.”

“Thanks?”

“I’m almost annoyed.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” Peter laughed boyishly as he pulled himself up off of her and tried his best to clean up. She turned to watch him, her eyes narrowed.

“What happened?”

Climbing back into the bed, Peter smiled to himself as he joined her. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Probably.”

“I….well, I may…..not have, I guess, seen how you look from certain angles.”

Michelle just blinked. He could see her trying to do the math in her head without a full conclusion. “…Thank you?”

Pulling her in closer to him by her hips, Peter met her eyes and smiled for a moment before kissing her, one of his hands slowly, cheekily, moving further down as he praised his new discovery.

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trickstersantana · 7 years

Text

Para: You're so vile, in denial, and I know just what to do

Who: Santana, Puck,Quinn, Spencer (and whoever wanted to be on the fight and came to see it, even if they weren’t at the chatzy they can say they were watching!!) Location: Undique Stadium Time: 11th January 2017 (after classes and before MM) Summary: The New Age Slayer and the Trickster finally fight one on one. Triggers/Notes: Violence, snake mentions

Santana arrived at Undique as she said she would. All prepared for the most important battle of this month. Beating the others was cool, but the idea of humilliating Puck was priceless. She really hoped she success on this, of course. Backpack ready, cookies ready. She entered to see if the slayer was already there.

Puck walked into the stadium at the stated hour, a can of soda in one hand, his Grimoire on the other. He smirked as he saw the trickster and walked up to her. Puck wasn't nervous at all; this was supposed to be a piece of cake for him. Still, he knew if he let the trickster win over him, his rep would definitely suffer a big blow. Yet, that only made him want to win this even more. His stance oozed confidence as he towered in front of her; "Santana," he greeted. "Always a pleasure to see you..." he said, irony dripping from his tone

Santana was surprised he called her by her name, but she wasn't going to show it. "Noah" she returned. His name was Noah rigth? She should had called him by the wrong name god damn it. Wasted opportunity. She smiled though inside she was thinking Well that's it I already showed him I know his name this is basically a lost battle . Thank God she was good at pretending to be in control. She cracked her knuckles. "Always a pleasure to see me. I agree." She just answered looking directly to his eyes. She won every battle, this one was just one more for the list. "Are you ready to be a complete and crushing dissapointed to everyone when you lose?"

Puck glared at her. "It's Puck," he corrected with a stern voice. He didn't know where she found out that name, but he didn't like it. However, he snorted sarcastically with her words. "That's funny, 'cause I was about to ask you the same thing." He put his soda can in the ground and put his grimoire on his pocket, then cracked his knuckles and his neck. "Let's get it over with. I don't have much time, I got homework to get back to."

Santana smiled, this time for real. Ok chill Santana, he was bothered by it, in the end it was a good move, you got this. Success. She was about to reply 'jokes on you I can't dissapoint anyone because they have 0 expectations on me' but she wasn't that big of an idiot and just keep her mouth shout and smiled more. "Then let's begin"

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 1

Santana started with a simple blue fire illusion around Puck. God Damn it stupid trickster you are ALREADY FUCKING IT UP WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK SOMETHING BETTER. Outside she was smiling like she was in control, but she was screaming inside, and she would be like that the whole battle probably.

Puck positioned himself in the arena, feet set on the ground and rubbed his hands, his magic circle glowing. He would start with something simple, just a few fire bullets that aimed at the trickster and make her move a little; he didn't want her to think this was gonna be easy on her. "Bullet shower!" he said in Hebrew, and the bullets were fired towards the trickster.

Santana dodged the bullets. Guns and fire weapons was somehow slightly familiar. She keep her illusion going.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 5

Puck was reached by Santana's blue fire in the shoulder, making him wince and curl his hands into fists. She had already done all the damage he was gonna let her do. "Aw, dammit, you ruined my shirt," he growled. "You're gonna pay for that."

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 4

Santana smiled. OHMYFUCKINGGODICANTBELIEVEITWORKED. She keep moving just in case and was kind of annoyed at Puck probably making fun of her fake fire illusion not being able to burn shirts for real. But it as ok she always coult burn shirts with a lighter. She added to her fire illusion fire spears coming from the ground to go against Puck.

Puck the spears got his leg, making him even more mad than before. His fire bullets had not worked, so he decided to go a bit bigger. "Circle of fire" he shouted out as he tried to trap Santana in a ring of his element

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 2

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 3

Santana make a quick smoke illusion in front of Puck eyes to make him harder to look where she was and quickly run away from the REAL FIRE.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 2

Puck was hit in the face by Santana's illusion and had to move. His vision got blurry with his own tears. He tried his enchantment again as he saw her through the smoke moving away

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 5

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 7

Santana vanished her current illusions to make it look like the ground around Puck was cracking and about to break.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 4

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 4

Puck watched the blue fire disappear and felt like the earth benath him was shaking, but knew he was not in danger yet. With glossy eyes still, he aimed at her general direction. "Fire canon ball!" he called out as it formed before his hand, his magic circle glowing and turning around his wrist

Santana tried to dodge the next fire ball but it hit her shoulder. WELL THAT'S IT I'M GOING TO DIE NOW . She though while keeping running circling Puck and making some illusory explosions around him.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 2

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 5

Puck lost his balance due to the earth shaking, falling to the side. However, he rolled on the ground and, in the motion, took out his shoe, transforming it into a bow in his hand and aimed at her leg as he used his magic to create an arrow, "Fire arrow, aim to hurt!"

Puck rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Santana fucKING HATED ARROWS SO MUCH. SPECIALLY IF THEY WERE MADE OF FIRE. It hit her leg and fucking shit it this sucked so much. She made anothe smoke illusion around Puck because if she couldn't dodge faster is what best to make him aim worse.

Puck was hit by that damn smoke in the face again, blurring his vision and making him cough. "Fire arrow!" he tried again, but couldn't see anything as he fired.

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 3

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 4

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 1

Santana didn't get hit by the arrow, but the fire did almost burn part of her t-shirt. God damn it she loved fire but not when it was burning her. She made the smoke around Puck bigger and created a little illusory thunder storm, with annoying flashy lights and noise. If it worked on Madison it could work on Puck

Puck was unable to see anything as everything around him went black, except for the effect of the thunderstorm Santana added with so much precision it took him back to that FS when they were on the clouds. Puck couldn't do nothing but fire aimlessly. "Fire of the great, protect me!" he said as he pressed his hand to the ground, some threads of fire spreading in every direction.

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 3

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 2

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 3

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 6

Santana didn't had to dodge much because Puck was aiming at random. She started to laugh until a fireball hitted her. "Fuck" she whispered.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 1

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 3

Quinn is certainly not in the stands somewhere silently rooting for Puck,

Puck could hear Santana laughing through the storm, which only made him more mad that he already was. He could break all of her illusions with something he had bought in the black market, but dind't want to blow up the Undique Stadium and have to pay for it. Instead, he turned to the all watching eye that was always following him and had become more amicable with time. "I need a location," he told it, and the eye pointed to the trickster with discretion. "Thanks," he said with a simple smirk as he sent another fireball Santana's way. "Fire, stop her!"

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 2

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 1

Santana got hit again and just made her thunder illusion around Puck way louder and flashy and more and more annoying.

Puck was unable to hear anything from the thunder Santana had created. One of the lightnings hit him on the back and made him fall on all fours. (OOC MENTION OF SNAKES?? IDK) "Snakes of fire, find my enemy!" he called out as he created fire reptiles to go after Santana for him.

Santana rolled a die. The die showed: 4

Puck rolled a die with 7 sides. The die showed: 1

Santana freaked out a little about the fire snakes coming to her. HOW DID PUCK EVEN KNOW SHE WAS AFRAID OF THEM? She run as fast as she could to dodge them and just made more chaos and more noise around Puck in the heat of the moment.

Spencer was working out nearby, but decided to sit down and catch the duel between Santana and Puck. So far it proved to be interesting....He would make sure to congratulate the winner, and poke fun at the loser. He watched, while munching on some granola.

Puck shrinked as the storm grew, unable to see even his feet. Another lighting hit him, making him fall. "Alright!" He called out as he coughed from the ground. "Alright, I'm done!" he screamed in rage. "I can't fight like this, trickster! You win this time!"

Santana didn't hear what happened for a moment, and then she vanished the illusion just to see Puck. If this was a fake surrender trick she had totally fall for it. But she just looked at him. Surrendering. "Joder..." she keep looking at him, not really believing what happened. "Oh my, my" she started laughing THOUGH SHE STILL DIDN'T BELIEVE IT. "I hope you can send me a recorder of you surrendering from your little camera!" She just couldn't stop smiling SHE BEAT PUCK.

Puck stood up from the ground as soon as the illusion washed off, glaring at Santana as he walked up to her. "You can ask for it in the security office," he said. Then, he put a hand on the air for her to shake. "Good fight, Santana", he said through gritted teeth.

Santana looked at his hand, trying to be civil. For a little second she though of actually shaking it, but then she remembered she passed 4 hell days in her animal form for his fault so fuck him. She put her hands in her hips and just nodded and smiled at him. "I don't know if I call it good, honestly, Madison did it better" She just let him hanging and keep smiling at him

Puck let his hand fall and smirked. "You're lucky we're not in the real world, I wasn't really trying that hard," he shrugged. "Still, this isn't over." Puck looked back at her, his smile growing. "I want a rematch."

Santana giggled "Is that what you say everytime you lose?" Something inside her was saying 'Please stop don't mock him or he will get us again' but she didn't listen. "My my, and you expected to be the next leader of the Slayers for your 'skills'" She did the quotation marks and make it sound like a really ridiculous word. Santana pLEASE STOP YOU ARE GOING TO GET MURDERED SOMEDAY FOR DOIGN STUPID SHIT LIKE THIS. "If you really want to lost so miserably again, of course!" But first she had to go and heal herself cause she was really pretending nothing hurt but also NOTHING HURT SHE BEAT PUCK. "But now I must do more important things" She said with a smile while going away.She took a time for making a selfie of her and Puck in the background while she was at it.

Puck rolled his eyes at her and shrugged. "It's not like I can fight freely inside these walls, y'know," he pointed out, smile never leaving his lips even when he felt his blood boiling. She always knew what to say to get to his nerves. But the eye was watching. He needed to be civil. "Oh, sorry to see you're chickening out already, but, yeah; I got homework anyways," he said. As he saw her taking a selfie, he put bunny ears on her

#apuckcalypse #spencerportagram #wingedfabray #para: puck #chara: puck #para: spencer #para: quinn #chara: quinn #chara: spencer

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