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changetyre · 5 months

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Hope you're doing well, I didn't know your request was open!!

I'm not going to beat around the bush but could you write something like reader tease Oscar P in the shower and he fucks her from behind in front of the mirror??

If you're not comfortable with it, just ignore this request :)

It's so wrong but it feels so right II Oscar Piastri ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Oscar tried everything in his power to stay away from his teammate's younger sister despite her constant attempts at getting him to break...key word being tried.

WARNINGS: *18+* Not proofread

A/N: Yay another request and also the first Oscar fic here ;) Enjoy xx

"Yep." Your brother spoke on the phone. He was distracted enough that you knew you could have fun with the guy in front of you.

When Daniel had left the team last year you felt incredibly sad having grown close to the older man who treated you like a younger sister.

When Oscar arrived you saw the way your brother and him didn't truly connect at first like Daniel and him had done but little by little he started opening up.

And you kind of loved the shy and laid-back personality Oscar had so much that it attracted you in a way nothing and no one had ever done before.

The first time you'd tried to make an advance on Oscar he'd completely thought it was you just being overly friendly because you had drunk too much being that it was at a party.

But Oscar truly underestimated you when the following weeks you'd gone far and beyond to get his attention.

It wasn't that Oscar didn't find you attractive, it was the fact that you were his teammate's younger sister. Damn if you had any other last name he sure as hell would've responded to your advances ages ago but he couldn't do this to Lando.

Despite this, you still tried and you weren't going to give up. Oscar flinched, his knee hitting the table as he felt your foot slide from his ankle up to his thigh.

Lando turned to look at him weirdly but Oscar shrugged him off and Lando went back to focus on the call he'd gotten.

Oscar grabbed your heeled foot stopping it just as it approached his crotch. "y/n." He said your name in a warning tone which honestly only spurred you on.

"Ozzie..." you said his name teasingly in the same volume, your bottom lip between your teeth as you leaned forward on the table revealing a little bit more of your cleavage to him.

You saw the way Oscar's breath hitched, his eyes dropping between your breasts as his other hand caressed your leg, letting himself get pulled in by you.

"Okay, I'll be there in 20." Lando hung up snapping Oscar out of his trance.

"What's up?" You innocently asked as if you weren't just trying to get Oscar flustered.

"Something changed with the car settings and we need to go over the race strat again before tomorrow. I have to go." Lando gathered his things. "Oscar, do you mind driving y/n back to the hotel?" Lando asked.

"Uh, sure." Oscar hesitantly replied watching the way your mischievous smile grew.

"Alright, see you later." Lando hugged you not noticing the way you slipped your hotel room key into his back pocket before he went on to say a quick goodbye to Oscar.

Trying to keep control of the situation Oscar quickly asked for the bill after Lando left. He could hear the way you giggled thinking his nervous behavior was hilarious.

"Okay let's go," Oscar said as soon as he'd gotten his receipt.

You got up and quickly linked your arm around Oscar's as he led you both out of the restaurant.

You'd spent the car ride to the hotel making light conversation, Oscar obviously not missing your flirty remarks and the way you tried to bring your hand to Oscar's thigh repeatedly.

In the end, he was only able to stop you by taking your hand in his which you were very much pleased with as you thought he looked sexy driving with one hand while keeping a hold of you with the other.

Finally arriving at the hotel Oscar was more than relieved that this interaction was finally over since he could tell he was starting to lose control, his body felt incredibly hot with how touchy you'd been tonight and he'd constantly just had to remind himself you were his teammate's younger sister.

He led you to the door of your room which was right next to your brothers and consequently a few doors down from Oscar's own room.

"Oh." You faked surprise. "Hmm, I think Lando kept my room key." You commented.

"What?" Oscar panicked. "Are you sure have you checked your pockets?" He had no idea when Lando would get back and he knew he couldn't leave you out here waiting, with his panic he failed to notice the smirk on your lips.

"I don't have pockets Ozzie." you laughed twirling around for him to see your tight-fitting dress which lacked pockets.

Oscar cleared his throat nervously. "Right, uhm." He looked around as if he'd found the solution to his problem floating around somewhere in the hallway.

"Maybe I could just wait in your room?" You innocently suggested but Oscar knew damn well you were anything but innocent.

"Uh yeah." Oscar reluctantly agreed knowing there was truly no other option right now, but he also knew damn well Lando would be getting back to the hotel late...very late.

Walking into his room Oscar tried his best to keep a distance from you. "I'm gonna shower and uhm...you can sit somewhere," he told you as he moved around the room pointlessly trying to look busy.

"Okay, Ozzie." You chirped.

Oscar's head was running wild in the shower. He let the cold water run down his body hoping it would help the situation between his legs that he knew he couldn't walk out of the bathroom with.

But it was useless. Oscar felt like he'd been standing under the cold water for ages and his dick was still as hard as a rock, painful.

"You okay in there Ozzie?" He jumped at hearing your voice. He could see your outline through the frosted glass of the shower.

"What are you doing here?" He asked nervously.

"You were taking a while and my face feels gross so I wanted to wash it out...also my dress was getting uncomfortable." You replied nonchalantly.

The insinuation of this only made Oscar's member ache more. "What-What do you mean?" Oscar shut off the shower.

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow Ozzie?" You moved to the door of the shower.

Oscar's first mistake was turning off the shower, and the second was opening the door to peek outside. He caught sight of your almost naked figure now covered only by a black lace lingerie set that broke Oscar right then and there.

"Fuck you're impossible," Oscar muttered as he lost all self-control rushing out of the shower and immediately wrapping a hand around your throat bringing your face forward and capturing your lips into a sloppy, desperate, and rushed kiss.

"F*ck me Ozzie." You moaned at feeling his large dick slap against the inside of your thigh.

"Is that what you want...Is this what you've been waiting for you little slut." He whispered into your ear as his hand moved down to the lace between your legs running a finger across and noticing how wet you were.

"Yeah...yes Ozzie." Your breath shuttered feeling your body overwhelmed in pleasure at finally having Oscar the way you've wanted him for so long.

"Well, good job...you finally did it." Oscar stuck a finger in you without previous warning making you yelp in pleasure as he began thrusting it in and out of you.

He did this in an attempt to prepare you for him but after feeling the way you dripped down on his fingers he knew you were more than ready.

"Turn around." He turned you around manhandling you and lifted your legs up onto the bathroom counter so you were squatting on your knees, your ass just hanging off the edge wide open for him.

You could see Oscar in the mirror in front of you as he slapped your hole with his dick sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.

"How the tables have turned." Oscar laughed as he felt you rub back against him trying to get him to slide into you.

"Please Ozzie, Please." You cried begging for him to do something already.

"what do you want hmm?" He teased as he pushed the tip in slightly before taking it back out.

"Please just put it in me already, I beg you." You whined to Oscar meeting his gaze through the mirror. "Just this once please." You were so desperate and Oscar loved to have regained control now.

He laughed but he was also desperate to get inside you so without further teasing he thrusted his full length into you. He felt your body trying to jump up at the sudden stretch but he held your hips down so you were unable to move as he began slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"Just this once." Oscar scoffed. "You're insane if you think this is the last time baby," Oscar spoke confidently as he kept slamming into you.

"Ah...fuck...so good." You cried, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you could feel that knot tightening in your stomach.

Oscar undid your bra with one of his hands while his other kept a tight hold of your waist making sure his pace was maintained. He almost came at the sight in the mirror.

Your nipples were pierced.

"Fuck you are a little slut aren't you," Oscar commented as he began playing with the metal on your buds.

This only increased the satisfaction in you. "Ah fuck Ozzie don't stop." You cried.

"Look at me." Oscar panted. "Look at me when you cum." He demanded grabbing your face to look into the mirror.

"Sh*t I'm close." You moaned as you felt your legs start to tremble.

Oscar sped up his pace wanting to join you in your release. "Cum, cum with me."

"Ah cum inside me, please." You cried and that was enough for Oscar to let go. He felt you squeeze around him as he began pumping you full your legs shivering as your orgasm washed over you.

Oscar stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths, you leaned back into Oscar's chest as he caressed your skin gently.

"Fuck that was-" Oscar was about to speak when you were both interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

"Oscar you in there?" You could hear your brother's voice.

You saw the way the color drained from Oscar's face.

"You better come up with something fast Ozzie, wouldn't want him finding out you just spilled inside his sister would you." You giggled.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1smut #smut #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #f1 smut #changetyre #oscar piastri #op81 smut #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader

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georgia-stanway · 2 years

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Conte always calls Doherty 'Matthew' and I don't know what that means but it's definitely something

#tbh it's just quite funny innit #even when he's praising him he sort of sounds like he's telling him off #matt doherty #tottenham hotspur #spurs #antonio conte

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sytoran · 11 months

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accidental or not | teom part iii

Westview happens to have a gay bar. You give it a visit.

──── PAIRING. sub!milf!wanda x dark!player!reader

──── CONT. smut, one-night stands, vouyerism, exhibitionism, you'll understand later i swear, choking kink, breast play, vaginal fingering

──── WORD COUNT. 1.6k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

The first time was an accident.

“Fuck, right there,” she moans, hands twisting themselves into your hair as your mouth finds the sensitive spot on her neck, licking and sucking and marking.

You try to remember her name — Natalie? Nicole? — as you push her up against the wall, mouth hot and fervent and lusting and needy. Natasha, you finally settle on.

As it turns out, you couldn’t quell your desires, couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. It had been a grand total of three days since you moved into Westview, but then you found out about the bar located about a fifteen minutes drive away.

At the silhouette of a promise coming in the shape of a pretty woman, you couldn’t not go, could you?

All it took was a black collared shirt and shiny rings on your fingers before you had a woman pressing up against you on the dancefloor — effectively humping your thigh, by the way — and the two of you somehow made it back to your place without giving the taxi driver a free porno.

“More,” Natasha growls into your neck as you work on undoing the buttons of her blouse. Her nails scratch at the expanse of your shoulder blades, as if trying to leave imprints. You hum in response, sliding up her pretty skirt, hands going into her panties.

Your fingers find the wet slit easily and slide in, awaited with an immediate clenching. “Fuck,” you pant, unable to focus with her ripping off your belt and unbuckling your pants.

“Stop it,” you grunt, taking her wrists with one hand and pinning it above her head. You lean closer, warm breath on her neck, delighting in the visible shiver that runs through her body. “We’ll take that off when I’m done, yeah?” you ask slowly, eyes darkening in arousal at the breathy moan Natasha lets out.

“Words, darlin’,” you murmur, running a finger down the curvature of her face, to the delicacy of her neck, to the line of her sternum. God, you loved women.

“Okay,” she managed to say, words spilling out from the sides of her mouth like an unstoppable dam, breath coming out in ebbs and flows that you drank up. “Please. Please, just fuck me.”

Sooner than later, you have your rough fingers exploring her wet cunt to mark out every crevice and every sweet spot. You gauge her reactions, calculate her pleasure, want to make her feel more-

“Upstairs,” you say in a low breath, cutting off your own thoughts, picking Natasha up as she lets out an exhalation of surprise.

She tilts her head inquisitively at your spontaneity. “You seem more fit than the regular gym goer,” she mentions, legs swinging as you climb up the stairs. “Athlete?”

You stiffen, and perhaps she notices it too. “Nah,” you answer, the lie tasting dry on your lips. “Seems like a rather stressful.”

It’s a one-night stand. No strings attached, no validity at stake. And that means no truths, either.

Before you can make it into the bedroom, the redhead twists out of your grasp once again, lips meeting yours in frenzied chaos. “Impatient,” you mutter dryly, left hand cinching around her neck and placing pressure on the pulse point. Natasha lets out a filthy moan.

When her bare back presses against the cold glass of the full-length window, your body follows dutifully.

Your knee goes in between her legs to provide a semblance of friction and a surface for her to dry hump on. “Shit,” she gasps, a hot cunt finding the muscle of your thigh in no time. “Feels good.”

The eager response to your ministrations only spurs your hands to get more busy, going behind Natasha’s back to unclasp the bra. Your knuckles brush against the cold glass of the window.

The moment her bra drops, you're quite sure you start drooling.

"You're definitely a tits over ass kinda gal, huh?" she teases at your ogling, using those hands to push up her breasts and make them look even more mouth-watering. Your eyes are hungry, devouring, scanning over the cleavage and her nipples and her mounds– god, you can feel the redhead get wetter on your thigh and it turns you on to no end.

"Ya think?" your response is hoarse, late, but you can’t feasibly care.

When your mouth wraps around a hardened nipple all caution is thrown to the wind. The mocking lilt in her voice simply breaks off into a high-pitched moan.

You just love the feeling of her tits in your hands, massaging and kneading and squeezing as your mouth works on the nipples. Lathering your hot tongue over the tip then swirling around the areola, taking your time.

Natasha tugs on your hair, pulling your mouth closer around her breast. Her trails of soft praises and cries of pleasure are a surefire sign you’re doing a good job.

It's only after a good five minutes of heated sucking that you get the faint feeling of someone watching. eyes, on you.

Natasha doesn’t seem to notice, pressing up against the glass of the window, in disbelief that she’s about to orgasm with only breast play.

The caution you threw to the wind earlier falls back into your grasp. You take your mouth off, albeit begrudgingly, and rise to your full height again, towering over the smaller woman.

Despite Natasha’s furious cries of denial, your hand goes back around her neck, and the woman melts in your hands like putty. “You wanna get off on my thigh, or you want me to help you out?” you ask, low in her ear, once again reliving the thrill of seeing her goosebumps raise.

“Help,” Natasha gasps in a choked whimper, when your fingers begin pinching her taut nipples. “Help me, please.”

You don’t deny the woman this time, setting her on your thigh properly as she undulates her hips against your muscle. Your hands go to play with her tits again.

Taking Natasha’s distraction as a sign, you finally look up, across the window, attention now diverted.

The first time was an accident.

But when your eyes lock with those sacred green ones again, you almost lose all your breath. There’s Wanda Maximoff, your neighbour, the married woman, the ethereal being with the viridescent eyes. And her eyes are trained on you and Natasha.

She had been watching, the whole time, from her own bedroom window.

Your heart was rising, soaring, lighter than it had ever been but heavy with a twisted sense of arousal. Wanda stood, shell-shocked, a slow blush overtaking her face at having been caught.

The first time was an accident, because you didn’t mean to notice the way her eyes fluttered over the both of you, the way her hands fidgeted, the way her thighs deliciously clenched-

Oh, it had been so long since you felt like that.

You loved that reaction. you wanted more.

No, you needed it.

So, against all sense of moral compass, against all hitherto goodwill — you don’t break apart in embarrassment, or stop fucking the pretty girl in front of your neighbour — you just smirk.

You actually smile, lips curving up dangerously, dripping with venom, eyes darkening impossibly more, pupils dilating even further. You feel those dark desires taking over you like it had so many times before, and this time you know you won’t be able to stop.

And in front of wanda, you continue. “Let go, baby,” you say to Natasha. You grab her hips, she's putty in your arms. Tossing her around and pressing her tits right up against the glass, you meet those green eyes again.

The opposing woman is rooted to the spot, eyes widened with fear and arousal.

Your experienced fingers easily find natasha’s clit after a good minute of finger-fucking, pinching the swollen clit between your long fingers as your hot breath runs down her bare back.

"I can't! I can't! Oh, I'm gonna squirt," Natasha cries, throwing her head back, and you finger her pussy open, still looking across the window, directly into the eyes of your watching neighbour.

“Please!” Natasha’s cry is sweet as she reaches her climax. She squirts, as she kindly mentioned earlier, and it goes all over the glass. “Pretty girl,” you whisper into her ear, and you don’t know if you’re talking about the woman in front of you or the one in the next house.

The first time was an accident.

Speaking of said woman, she’s still standing there, mouth open slightly. Wanda’s tongue darts out to run over her tantalizing lips, and you get the criminal urge to do it for her.

Tearing your eyes off hers, you avert your attention to Natasha once again. Her knees have buckled, and the only supporting weight is your forearms. “That was amazing,” Natasha breathes, and you smile, giving her a small peck on the top of her head.

“Another?” you ask, softly, and Natasha lets out a breathy laugh and then an eager nod. She jumps and wraps her legs around your torso, and you bring your face closer to steal another kiss.

When you leave a last look at the neighbours’ house, the curtains are shut, yet again.

===

After hours of worshipping Natasha in your bedroom, desperately trying to think of her and not your neighbour, you collapse into the bed. Natasha’s already fallen prey to the temptation of sleep, her cunt thoroughly wrecked.

With a shuddering breath of release, you close your eyes.

You had just properly fucked a woman in front of your hot neighbour, who happened to be very married. On…… accident?

The first time may have been an accident, but the next time you weren’t so sure if it still would be.

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#marvel women #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel smut #wanda x reader smut #sub wanda #bottom wanda maximoff #dom reader #top reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #wanda maximoff smut #sub wanda maximoff #teom series #wanda maximoff #x reader

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harryswinks · 2 months

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poch very much underperformed with our squad especially the season we went unbeaten at the lane and i think it’s only now where we have the benefit of hindsight and the privilege of being back in a position where there are good vibes and belief in the trajectory of the club that people are able to see it. we lacked depth which was a huge factor in our title challenges BUT i don’t necessarily think the onus falls on levy completely there - poch rejected potential transfers outright as well.

i don’t know if we could have won the league the couple of times we were challenging but i do think that we could have and arguably should have won a cup or two during his tenure. that first team of lloris, vertonghen, alderweireld, rose, walker, wanyama, dembele, eriksen, dele, son, kane and many more was absolutely lightning in a bottle insane and i think it’s fair to say that while poch was a huge reason why we continued our trajectory as a club to fighting for top 4 (and even challenging for the title), he did have a young immensely talented squad (at one point half the england setup were spurs) and somewhat underperformed considering everything. thinking back on the poch era is equal parts of pride that we cemented ourselves as a mainstay in the cl and rose up from the midtable we were before redknapp etc but also pain thinking of the squad he had and the way he has nothing to show for it

i think you're 100% right. obviously levy is not blameless - he was happy with just getting top 4 and that filters down but i don't think that excuse the performances on the pitch when it came to cups. they were still there for the taking.

with us poch had this mentality of 'we're punching above our weight so it doesn't matter if we don't get to a final/win a final' and whilst that's not wrong that obviously filtered down to the players. how is that giving them the confidence to go a win something? you're basically always telling them 'you're not good enough to win something'. if there is one thing that i've learnt from going from jose/nuno/conte to ange is that the attitude of the manager is reflected on the pitch. if a manager has confidence in his players it lifts the whole mood and they play like they believe they can do something special, but if the manager doesn't have that belief then you see that on the pitch. look at villa and wolves at the moment - their success is a reflection of the manager believing in their players, where as west ham are a reflection of moyes' negativity, palace were a reflection of hodgson's negativity... look at how luton are putting up a fight for rob edwards compared to sheffield united and wilder. i also don't think it helped that poch was always having a bit of a flirt with bigger clubs because does that not also send out a message to the players that he doesn't believe they can do it?

that chelsea performance yesterday was like something he'd have done with us. knowing what his attitude to trophies was with us, and how he seems to only be able to play the underdog card you just know he wasn't telling him team 'you know what their best forwards are out, there's a bunch of kids on the bench, go out there and absolutely do them'. that's just not poch. his mindset will have 'we're 10th and they're 1st in the league so we're not expected to win. oh well' not 'lets fucking show them'. yeah some of those expensive chelsea players aren't living up to the price tag but they don't have a bad team, they're still good, that was still a strong enough that could have done better yesterday. they've been playing pretty well over the past few weeks and much like with us he's got a final and he has just bottled it. he didn't have them playing in the same way he has in the league. and again his attitude rubs off on the players and the team on the pitch is a reflection of the manager. the buck stops with poch yesterday just as it did with us in the semi finals and the champions league final with us.

and let's not forget how he didn't value our domestic cups. he didn't see them as important and again it filters down to the players. before the game chilwell said that yeah its not the champions league like the fans are used to but for where the club is now winning the league cup could be the boost they needed and he was right. it was the same with us. you get that first bit of silverware and the mentality of the players changes and they want more. but poch never saw it like that with us and i can guarantee he still thought like that yesterday. he's not learnt a single thing from his time with us.

at the end of the day im glad chelsea lost and i hope they're miserable for the end of time, but it's somewhat disheartening to see poch there doing all this and making me look back at his time with us and realising that we could have had it so much better. yes he gave us a lot of good memories and for some fans they're the only good times at the club they've know but... idk for me now i don't look back on it and have the same affection for him as i did when it was happening. he's a good manager but he's never going to be elite and he cost us trophies when they were well within out grasp. his time with us was a series of missed opportunities and whilst they weren't all his fault, a lot of them were.

#answered #anonymous

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5mind · 2 months

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://FIVEMIND REBOOT SEQUENCE - ACTIVATE ___ Footage from Chirptune (and any nearby cameras) showed off two birds fighting. And a lone cyborg up against several mutated monstrosities-- Septic Squadron Gutterbrain! No doubt the AI would recognize each as a bastardization of its own units.

It would take some time to find them. But it looked like Antares was about to flip the script on these fiends...!!

cont. from here

Chirptune received a ping. A request for footage to be relayed from none other than Fivemind. Now was really not the time to talk things through. Chirptune gave it the approval.

It appeared having additional hidden cameras set up around public areas of Bayfloat had been the right call. Whatever footage Chirptune was relaying through her optics was horrendously shaky at best, and completely obscured by metal claws and sheet metal wings at worst.

While Fivemind narrowed down the possibilities of the location, it's attention was drawn towards the mockeries of its units.

And perhaps it was because the Septic Squadron was a mockery of the mechanical squadron that Antares was holding up against them at all.

A familiar dance performed in shoddy steps. The biggest difference here was that flesh was easier to slice through than metal.

It did not matter how messed up their anatomy was. They could move. And movement required musculature. Muscles could be cut.

Somewhere between hiding from shots of bile behind a stack of crates and dodging a mighty punch from the green unit, Antares had switched the injector attached to his tail stinger for a serrated blade.

From there on the fight was a mess of bodily humours erupting from slashed wounds and broken chitin.

The thrust of a blood red blade was dodged and redirected into the throat of the blue-ish unit coming up behind its initial target. Dark fluid splattered against Antare's helmet as the 'red ranger' pulled their blade free with no regard for their teammate.

The blue unit's head hung limp from a sliver of flesh. But the unit still stood. Antares shuddered.

He sidestepped another strike only to be hit square in the chest by a pink fleshy foot with spurs of bone at its heel. He stumbled. They were closer to the water now. Closer to that car that was still not in the sea. Good. Two of the units rushed after him. Antares forced his body into healing fast. Forced it into covering every part of him with burnt orange chitin. Everything hurt but he had never felt so focused.

He kicked a headless unit against the car. His tail stinger striked, metal screeching as Antares forced the blade into the car. Right where the engine should be. Sparks flew as he pulled out partially before dettaching the blade altogether from his tail and throwing himself into the sea.

Fuck this shit he's out of here.

In the distance, Red One spotted a burst of flame erupt by a certain dockside.

#pzfr #[ ic : one in five ]#[ ic : chirptune ]#[ ic : antares ]#[ dodostep saga ]#body horror cw #gore cw #violence cw #((sORRY IF THIS GOT LONGER THAN IT SHOULD

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originemesis · 2 months

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@kugel-bitch cont. xxx

"Mmrp." Sappy. Sure, she'll take sappy, supposing it's not the worst streak to have crop up every now and again, spurred by a drop or two of liquid encouragement, that is. She'd like to see him try to convince their peers that Lute the lunatic is actually a bleeding-heart softy under all those perpetually ruffled feathers. There lies the difference in their respective facades. His mask is brittle. Hers never slips. If it does, it is through a conscious decision. Deliberate. A decision she only really makes for him, and only really because it's fair, when he's as easily decipherable as a preschool textbook it's apt she help him glean an insight into her pages once in a while. ...because it's fair—but also because some skittish part of her does want to be known by him. As daunting of a prospect as that is. To be known.

"Maybe. You best keep that intel under tight wraps, though. I've got an image to uphold—" Feathers spring up like a cockatoo's crest when Adam lavishes the juncture of her neck and jaw with a generously damp lap of his tongue. A gesture which prompts the angel to sort of shimmy and rub herself, both against him and the backboard of the sofa in order to rid herself of the ensuing goosebumps. A light chuff of a laugh in response to that last query before she grants herself the permission to sink comfortably into the quietude of their tender entanglement, a crooked smile baring tapered canines stringing the outermost edges of her lips up high, so that the corners of her almond eyes crinkle with the sincerity of it. "Mmh yeah? Wanna see me crack open a bottle of absinthe?--I'll be the cutest fucking excorcist that ever flapped her wings this side of heaven.--Just gimme twelve hours and a bottle of tylenol." She half whispers, half laughs into the meager space between their lips when they periodically part for a passing moment, only to dip forward and recapture one another at a different angle. Carefully, she presses her avian talons into the sofa in order to propel herself further up his torso until she can comfortably secure her knees in place at either side of his hips. "...hey—" Another octave chipped off her intonation, as hands leave his tousled bird's nest to cradle the sides of his face instead, thumbs gingerly skimming the soft bows of his cheeks. "—you know I would never actually—" If he were paying attention, he might feel the way her lower lip twitches disjontedly as the words temporarily fail her. "—leave...right?"

To be known was something he both wanted and didn't want, but despite the always at-war dichotomy of those two falcon forces of his constantly interlocked at the talons and helicoptering into a helpless freefall, she seemed to always pick up on which side was lower in altitude upon briefly separating and needed more time in the sky to rise back for the next bout of beating each other out of it. After all, the First Man had little else but that title to claim, and while he wasn't opposed to using that façade easily conjured by slipping on a mask and burying himself under multiple layers of robes whose loose and flapping edges would cause folks to second guess if he had just about as many wings as the seraphim did, he still found the transition from the angel they'd made him into the image of his former self just jarring enough to avoid it for as long as he was able, even if it meant permanently existing within the embrace of an exoskeleton. Of course, she was one of the only other beings privy to softer insides cocooned within walls of manic moods and fits pitched to distract him from that inner feeling that compared to all other beastly entities between heaven and hell, he was far more unimpressive than what his title would infer. And yet there he was- unimpressive as usual and pried out of his shell with her talons tangled in his hair and trailing with care like he was something worth preserving- rare, even.

Having already relaxed into his shoulders, still thankful for the dim lighting in the room despite her assurances, he gave a quiet chuckle- amused as always by her willingness to play along with his word games no matter how childish the territory they fell into and often did. "-and you think I don't?" An image to uphold at any rate...though mostly it felt second nature to him at this point. First nature, even...second nature was more along the lines of easing into his skin after a long period of forgetting to force the helmet up farther over his head than just his mouth to brush his teeth. She was probably grateful he did even that, and that it was spurred on by his desire for occasional creature comforts such as the preening peaks of her lips. And if there was any doubt about what he was after during the brief periods of her parting to take shallow breaths, his gaze gilding the edges of her smile was telling enough. He did like it when she spent her shitty mornings sweet talking him. After a night like that he supposed they were both having one.

"...you would hair of the dog that shit. Need a little more sugar to get things going don'tcha think? Order me up a mimosa, babe. Extra on the OJ ~ " Only way he'd trust a fruit was if it was blended up with heaps of added sugar, of course.

As she shifted around, using the help of her talons and his wing to slide up his chest, Adam gave his own few adjustments to accommodate for her roosting, his hips arched up to hook her in place when her 'hey' coaxed his chin downwards until it was nearly against his own chest trying to get a gander at her mood once the subtle quaver in her voice coaxed his curiosity long enough for him to allow her the custody over her lips again despite the peckish mood he'd fallen into. Gaze half-lidded as she lightly fussed over the edges of his face, he fell silent for a moment as he considered her claim. The memory of her twisting that dagger in to his separation anxiety threatened to flare up, but seeing as she was here now and swearing she'd never, it gave the re-opened yet quick to scab scar the gentlest of butterfly kisses.

"...'course not. We're ride or die, babe." The sweet notion skips a beat when his musing trails on, unmuzzled as always. "-and I might just die if you don't start riding-"

#kugel-bitch #//i don't have any him being sweet w/o mask icons ehehe oh well he swerved a little at the end #//butstill<3 grosgrossgross they're so gross n it's killing mee #long post #suggestive cw

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maddmuses · 2 months

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Barb (バアブ)

(art credit: jorongbak)

Date of Birth: April 4th Age 712 Place of Birth: Sector NW, Housing District 48, Planet Vegeta Species: Saiyan Height: 5’0” Weight: 110 lb. Family: Vegeta IV (Son), Vegeta III (Consort), Snip (Father), Anach (Mother)

Personality Barb has a personality that some would say is “typical” if she were a lower-caste saiyan, often being described as brutal, and deriving pleasure from inflicting violence. Destruction and suffering seems to be her favored way of getting what she wants, which is likely what suited her to become Queen Consort to Vegeta III. However, due to being raised around the elite caste, she has a bit more of a nuanced perspective. At her core, Barb is a protective being who wants nothing more than to do just that for those who she determines to be worthy, and her people broadly once she had become queen.

Generally speaking, she comes off as gruff and rough, but the reality is made evident when around her son Vegeta IV. She is often seen carrying him around, and lauding praise onto the child. Barb has also been known to have a tender spot in her heart for powerful saiyans (including one mid-level soldier turned general)… Which is to say, that her husband is not included in this spot. While she does respect strength, though, her tolerance for pompous behavior wears thin quickly, prompting her to not take the likes of King Cold, or Lord Beerus, especially seriously.

Fiercely protective and domineering as a mother, Barb rarely allowed anyone to hold either of her sons, and continued the habit of carrying Vegeta around even after he was able to walk for about a year. Though described as “doting” and “over-parenting” by those who would mumble about her in private, anyone who was dumb enough to say it within her earshot was promptly found dead at the palace’s gate, bloody and beaten.

Her tail is particularly expressive, being somewhat long for a saiyan of her stature already, it often is an indicator of the woman’s mood when not tucked as a belt.

Biography Born in the lower castes of saiyan society, Barb had not had her power level assessed by the Saiyan Military Office until she was already several months old. Her reading was considered highly anomalous for a saiyan in her caste, and a saiyan infant broadly, with a reading of 406; at this point it was the highest infant battle power reading on-record, beating out Vegeta II’s reading by 2 points. Arguments were posed that this reading was not equivalent, as the king’s grandfather had been read at days old, compared to Barb’s being more than two months at that point, but the fact was that her power level was far above the Saiyan Military Promotion standard.

This standard was put forth and established that any triple-digit power level in an infant was immediately appropriated from parental custody and re-homed to the custody of high-class saiyans, with an exceptionally high opposite-sex saiyan usually being reserved for the “Royal Consort Program”. Raised among saiyan aristocracy, Barb was taught the fundamentals of an upper-class saiyan, particularly including the use of qi to attack and fly. As a part of the consort’s program, she would eventually fight other potential mates for the future king, in an attempt to maintain the battle power of the royal lineage, even with an outlier like Barb.

Over the years growing up as an adopted aristocrat, Barb had met Vegeta III a few times, and was consistently unimpressed with the crown prince, not simply his looks, but also personality, and battle power. Still, despite this, her patriotism toward her planet and kingdom was what spurred Barb onward. Not only would she be the strongest of their kind as the queen, but she would be an icon that the rest of their planet looked to as a symbol of strength, and her line would be the greatest in Vegeta's history, even if it lacked her name as a significant punctuation.

When completing her adolescence, and nearly completing her growth spurt, the Queen's Contest was held. A battle royale among the most powerful of Vegeta III's potential suitresses from across the planet, including saiyans roughly his age, to those with extremely high battle power. Though if being a saiyan was merely about power level, there would be no need to fight. No, the greatest warrior would serve as the most suitable queen for the future-king, harkening back to their original "Kingship by Combat" traditions.

As typical, the contest dragged on for several days, with Barb the eventual winner, and her designation as the king's betrothed came with it. Standing above a small mountain of broken bodies, all injured, some even dead, was a sight that would remain in the saiyan's cultural consciousness for the remainder of Planet Vegeta's existence.

Almost over night she was seen as an idol on planet vegeta, and any other planets under saiyan control. Men and women alike wanted her, if not wanting to be her, and the affair made of her wedding to the crown prince was broadcast even into Cold's Empire as a significant event.

During the next two years, Barb was exposed to additional courtly training by various saiyan nobles whose status had, inadvertently, become beneath hers as a result of her position as Queen Consort. As she learned how a queen was expected to act, she often resented the instructors, who she felt had contempt for her; even as a powerful saiyan, to many who believed that castes should be based on blood, rather than power, she was still little more than a low-class brute who was simply learning their rules and behaviors as an act, not sincerely.

There was truth to this. Despite them being married, Barb felt little affection for the pathetic excuse for a saiyan she had been betrothed to. Vegeta III was a weakling of a king, but his own father, the still-sitting King Nero, had only been able to father the one. Despite being of the royal line, the different between Vegeta and his father was significant, and as a result they had hoped that his specific generational weakness was anomalous, and a particularly powerful queen might rectify this. Despite their hopes being on her, Vegeta was something of a cruel spouse, hitting her and speaking in a belittling fashion toward Barb, she assumed as an attempt to compensate for his weakness. But retaliation would have been a crime of the highest order, an act of treason that would earn an immediate execution, regardless of if Vegeta III was the crown prince, or the king.

Through this quiet mistreatment, and repeated indignity, Barb found comfort in different thoughts. When she was 18 and her "dear husband" was placed on the throne in the wake of King Nero's death, she began to plot. She had developed something of a relationship with Nappa outside of their marriage, a fine arrangement for both parties as Vegeta III was also known to seek the arms of other women, and his position as a general had given her ideas.

A coup. Navigating the different factions within the palace and military, Barb hoped to eliminate any dissidents who would attempt to stop her, or kill her, when she challenged him for his right to rule in combat.

But the plan was changed when Barb became pregnant. She had Vegeta III's child, during one of the rare nights they laid together with the intent to create an heir. And through Vegeta IV being conceived, then later born, the queen's demeanor changed wildly. Not only was she the new crown prince's mother, but she had something, someone, to live for. Flaccid, threats of a charge of treason meant little to the saiyaness now, their son defied all previously thought logic with a Battle Power of 500. If Barb wasn't beloved by the people of Planet Vegeta now, she was for sure. The mother of the strongest in history, and a proper queen who ensured that the kingdom would have another ruler to preside over their prosperous empire into its next stage.

Loving and protective, she would openly warn her husband of the consequence of mistreatment. If any harm came to her, or her son, or even his words were too cross, he would be promptly killed.

For the remainder of her time living, she was a loving and doting mother to Vegeta, though she would die not long after her second son, Tarble, was born at the age of 24. Her death would come roughly a year before the demise of Planet Vegeta, though she would not be joined in hell with her people, as she had not participated with saiyan raids broadly. She would be among the minority of her people who passed onto heaven, though she was privately convinced it was hell.

Skills, Abilities, and Powers -Saiyan Physiology: As a saiyan, Barb has grown up on Planet Vegeta in a 10g environment, making her superhuman without any sort of martial arts or qi enhancement. She loves combat, and if she were ever exposed to a non-brutal training method that doesn't amount to adults abusing a child, she would likely enjoy training as well. All of her physical prowess is considered at least 10x that of a normal human. This also includes an enhancement to her olfactory, and a generally more "animalistic" range of abilities. --Zenkai: Like other saiyans, Barb's Battle Power and Physical Stats increase as a result of battle and injury, with a greater degree of growth occurring the more traumatic the battle is. This includes other adaptations that must be made both during and after battle. --Tail: Barb has a prehensile tail that is functionally a third arm. Though most saiyans become weakened when it's wrung and hurt, Barb's reactions to it being touched are not as severe. --Oozaru Transformation: When under the full moon, or in similar degrees of blutz wave exposure, Barb transforms into a giant ape-like creature, while experiencing a Battle Power multiplier of 10 times. She has trained herself to control this state, as is standard among high-class saiyans, so that they don't inadvertently destroy settlements, and can shepherd weaker saiyans during the full moon of each 8 years.

-Chi Manipulation and Generation: Setting-typical, her Power Level was 406 as an infant, but as an adult her Battle Power was roughly 16,000. --Qi Blasts --Qi Detection and Sensing --Flight --Telepathy --Telekinesis --Mental Manipulation

-Techniques: TBL

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kylewalker-peters · 1 year

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I saw some people saying Tottenham fans need to calm down considering they are literally still 5th and above liverpool and chelsea. Thoughts?

I mean sure there's the perspective that every team needs cause spurs are still in the prem and we're not say Southampton who are fighting for their lives, but I also don't think spurs fans are wrong to be pissed off right now. it's been building for years and years and i think everyone is finally just at the end of their tether. It's not like spurs are 5th and performing well, we're not playing like a team that should be anywhere above mid-table at best.

It's not a case of "conte bad" or "blame enic" it's everyone together making it such a calamitous shitshow.

The manager is non-committal to his future, won't adapt his tactics to suit the side he has, doesn't seem to want to do any coaching, refuses to switch up his team selection unless apparently players are (unnecessarily) BOOED off the pitch, and for some reason came to spurs and expected 100 of the world's best ready-made title winning players to come into the club when we were never going to provide that.

Our players are playing appallingly, our squad is thinner than a bald man's last remaining strand of hair, they go into the med room and never return, and there's the slight possibility we're headed for ANOTHER case of our players stopping playing for our manager.

The whole ownership of the club is a joke and is ruining the good parts of its legacy, we're never going to have the kinds of spending sprees of other top 6 sides but the lack of ambition continually displayed when it comes to player recruitment AND creating a thriving and useful academy is becoming negligible especially for the latter. we are not massively massively wealthy but we are spending like we are a lot poorer than we are. we don't back our managers, we don't know how to change and transition our squads at the right time and for a man that tries to save and obtain every penny possible the way levy refuses to sell players on before their price plummets to 50p and a freddo is crazy to me. and it's not only this lack of ambition that's killing us but the club has no idea whether it wants to be a microwavable ready meal short term winning machine (hence conte) or if it wants to be the english BVB with a focus on young talent and some experienced players to balance the side out. there's no rhyme or reason to who we buy or why we buy them. we spent all of last summer chasing djed's signature and beat out clubs like dortmund who are literally KNOWN for making young talent into stars and have given him about 20 minutes of game time all season in all competitions. we say our focus is on young talent and we always want to bring in a young player and develop them but spurs have ruined the careers of their own young talents and they're still fucking doing it now!

The whole club from the players to the manager to the recruitment staff to the academy to the owners are aimlessly wandering without any real purpose or direction or end goal, hell I'm not even sure "win a trophy" can be considered some people's objectives. as beautiful as the new stadium and training facilities are they mean nothing to fans if that's the biggest show of ambition they're going to get as if that's supposed to be their trophy from everyone involved's time at the club. at the end of the day juande fucking ramos is STILL the only manager in my lifetime to win a trophy with spurs. how can anyone defend that?

#sorry this went on for ages and got rambly i tried to cut myself off

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lcnelyday · 11 months

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cont. from here.

tomas wasn't drunk. that was the wild part. tomas was so often drunk, so often miserable, but lately, he had stopped. not entirely, but there was something about the little moments he got to steal away with henry, when they were curled up in his bed, after sex, tomas allowed to hold the other professor in his arms. those were the moments he wanted more than anything, and he couldn't enjoy them if he was drinking. it was a break, a pause, a stop that would resume the moment henry decided he was done playing with tomas. the second he wanted a divorce, wanted to end the strange accidental marriage. the moment he was tired of tomas and pushed him away. somehow, he had found himself walking past henry's stoop, even when they didn't have plans. just to know they were close enough to run into each other, without actually trying to run into each other.

his phone buzzed in his pocket and it actually scared tomas. he glanced down at the name, henry and his eyes immediately lifted to search the windows, find henry's disappointed expression, but he never did.

"henry—" he was cut off immediately. "i'm sorry, i'll be a better husband, you just—you surprised me." tomas chuckled, trying to keep his voice lower, since it echoed off the building around the empty street. "you wanted to hear my voice?" he asked, a stupid, goofy grin on his lips. he wandered over to the stairs and sat down, leaning against the railing as he listened to henry. "wait—you used to dream about me, henry? and excuse you, you're the one who answered the door in that little robe of yours. if i recall, i wanted to come and apologize, it was you that spurred the confession of feelings in me. how was i to resist?" he asked with a small laugh. "wait—is it insane if i tell you i am on your doorstop already?"

#tomas brightman #tomas & henry #whooops re:length #stardxstmxses

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volucerrubidus · 1 year

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cont. II @queryxecho

Tim was admittedly caught off-guard for a moment, not having expected something quite so flirty in response to what surely had to have been one of the cheesiest lines they’d ever said aloud.

But moments later, spurred by the fun of competition, Tim smirks right back at Nina and Diedre, and says, “Hey, you have a point! I don’t tend to strip before we go on a date, though. Now... I’d offer to go to the movies, but they won’t let me take in my own snacks.”

#[living omg]#{replies}#queryxecho

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28dayslater · 1 year

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The last time anyone hated anything as much as Antonio Conte hates spurs was when Hugo off love island was coupled up with that poor girl from casa amor

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meistoshi · 10 months

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@redlegend, cont.

❛ oh, y'know, — busy. lots'a league stuff. ❜ as he slides off his ride, pikachu follows the movement to hop onto its partner's hat from its previous spot at saddle - front, giving a belated " pika !! " of greeting from closer to eye - level with red.

❛ man, so much has happened, it'd take weeks to talk about it !! i've had sooo many huge battles, & i've gotten a bunch of new friends 'n' teammates !! & i've learned so much along the way !! oh !! ❜ « i'm still practicing doing this myself. spelling is sometimes slow. but i can understand others now. » the motions aren't as evenly paced as red's signing, & satoshi's notably concentrating as he signs it, but he's proudly beaming at the end of it.

❛ easier than a notepad, ne ?? ❜ he laughs with the callback. meeting red definitely spurred satoshi onto wanting to learn sign — if he puts in the effort to learn spoken languages when traveling to other regions, why neglect learning sign for them, let alone for his home region's language ??

#redlegend #late lunch-reply be upon ye #YIPPIE!!!!#ic.#v. continues on & on & on ...

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harryswinks · 5 months

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“it’s his job not to be soft” is crazy when a) what in the toxic masculinity, b) he was yelling at them in the second half, and c) he was brimming with anger in the post match interview saying it was unacceptable … it’s honestly a bit sickening time and time again to see all these micro aggressions against sonny. especially ppl who compare him with kane like why is kane shown so much grace for his bad games and sonny is not lmfao despite being instrumental in possibly our greatest achievement since 2008 (cl run). think we all know why really

like it's fine to say 'cor sonny was shit today' because he was, and it's fine to say if he's on a bad run of form too such as times like last season (not his fault) but this person was also questioning his commitment to club and the team... im sorry but you just cannot ask for more from a player. he's one of the committed players to the club i've ever seen, and even if kane had stayed there was no other candidate for the captaincy in my opinion. it HAD to be sonny. i have never once looked at him and thought he was lacking any effort, not even last season when there was a few players who i wasn't sure were quite putting their all in (understandable, they were playing under conte after all)

and yeah so what if sonny isn't a shouty person? players are allowed to have a 'softer' personalty. we know sonny has such a good relationship with his teams mates on and off the pitch that they'll all run through a brick wall for him. he's the bridge between all the players and language etc... people were also a bit like this with hugo as if he wasnt vocal on the pitch and would be angry when needed in interviews like sonny - people seemed under the impression he never fucking spoke lmao. there's also been some talk around this in how people talk about odegaard and his captaincy too... just because a player doesn't go around CONSTANTLY shouting a la henderson or roy fucking keane like its still the 90s doesn't mean they're not a good leader for being 'soft' it just means they have a different leadership style and personality and there's nothing wrong with that. there's definitely some racism when it comes to people thinking sonny's soft, imo. (it's also funny when you consider that rival fans think that sonny is some horrible dirty player who goes around trying to purposefully injure players because of a spell where he was petulant and got 2 reds and then his foul that lead to aurier breaking gomes' ankle... 2 completely differently views of him lmao)

look, i'll always love kane for all the goals but yeah, he really could do no wrong in a lot of spurs fans eyes. even when he went on strike. like COME ON, no other player would have been forgiven so quickly after that, and no other player wouldnt have it held against them. going back to the commitment thing, sonny would NEVER EVER pull a stunt like that. it's really annoying that people don't see that sonny is just as - if not more- committed to us than harry was. he could have pushed for a move every summer for the past 5 years and hasn't. sonny ALWAYS stepped up in kane's absence (as seen in the champions league that year). can't even say kane was afforded extra grace because he's an academy lad when you look at how our fans have treated other academy players over the years so what does that leave... i don't think people quite realise they're doing it, tbh (same with the 'soft' comments)

#answered #anonymous

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