#//as a reason to spread hate. There's really no excuse for it.

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ NOVEMBER — ᡣ𐭩

she tried to stop herself, she really did!

the first week passed easily, and she was perfectly fine the week after that, and maybe that was because she was on tour, but she still did well and didn't touch herself! another reason that she was maintaining such a calm, composed personality was because you weren't around to trigger any desperate, needy feelings she had buried deep down a whole week before november came. but when she finally flew into la from denver and you greeted her at the door, wearing a tight tank-top and just panties, those feelings that had almost become foreign came back to bite her.

she kept herself together the first few days of finally being able to see you, touch you, and taste you. just your lips, of course, because you had also become very determined to win, especially since you were the one who brought up the stupid challenge. neither of you had been very touchy those days, either, and billie hated it. she hated it whenever you would push her away when she'd come up behind you to give you a hug, or when you'd press a finger to her lips when she leaned in to kiss you after a long day. it was torture, but she had to endure it because she wasn't gonna lose this dumb little game of yours.

those were her thoughts until you had walked out of the bathroom one morning with nothing covering your body. droplets of water slid down your perfect skin, your damp hair cascading over your shoulders when you tilted your head, and your beautiful tits on full display for her hungry eyes. if she wasn't hard from your teasing earlier that morning, she definitely was now. you played the whole thing off by saying you, 'forgot your towel,' when she knew full well that you never once entered the bathroom without one, always complaining how cold it was when you stepped out from beneath the warm water. billie just rolled back into bed and hid under the covers, stopping herself from screaming out of anger as she fisted the sheets in her hands.

when you had finally left to run errands, though, she really couldn't help herself. the image of your wet, naked body was burned into her mind, something she couldn't forget even if she tried to. she pushed the bedsheets off of her body the second she heard the click of the front door closing, her hands still grabbing at the sheets as she pondered the idea of actually touching herself when december was just around the corner. the consequences didn't pass her mind even for a second when she made up the excuse that it was only once, and you'd never find out. so she slipped her plaid pajama pants off and almost tore her boxers while tugging them down her thighs, not having enough patience to pull them down to her ankles.

her eyes flickered upwards toward the bathroom, biting her plump bottom lip in an effort to stop it from trembling. within only a few seconds, she completely rid herself of the clothes on her lower half and scurried into the bathroom, quickly grabbing the panties you forgot to throw in the laundry bin before running back over to the bed. she spread herself out in the middle of the mattress, back resting against the headboard, one hand grabbing at her exposed thigh and the other holding your panties in a tight grip. there were beads of pre-cum escaping her red, aching tip, dribbling down her dick and making a mess of her thighs. she loosened her grip on your panties before bringing them to her face, your scent making her audibly moan into the quiet room.

she finally wrapped her hand around her length, hips bucking subconsciously in the grip of her own fingers. a whimper was muffled by your panties as she stroked herself softly, getting herself worked up just as you would do if you were here. her eyes fluttered shut as she parted her lips, gulping down the saliva that pooled in her mouth from the anticipation and thrill of it all. she tilted her head back, letting the hand that held your panties move to grip at the pillow beside her shaking body. her thumb rubbed over her leaking tip as she stroked herself again, mouth parting wider as the touch sent shocks through her entire body, making her back arch and her toes curl. the knot in her stomach was already tightening, her teasing touches working herself up to the edge already. only a few seconds, and she was already about to bust. lord knows how long she would've lasted if she hadn't touched herself today.

"mm—mommy, fuck...!" she whined brokenly, her breathing uneven and her strokes becoming more vigorous, more needy. she needed her release like she needed air, her hips stuttering against her hand as she felt tingles all over her skin. her eyes were closed so tight she saw stars behind them, her movements so rough the bed shook beneath her already shaking body. thoughts of your reaction popped into her head, and it only made her cry out in pleasure, tears brimming at her eyes from how good her own hands felt after almost a month. she knew since the beginning she was gonna be the loser, but she didn't even admit it, and she still wouldn't, even after you came home, "pleasepleaseplease—!" she moaned, voice breaking as her breaths came out in short gasps, her head spinning with the image of your body and your 'clueless' face when you knew damn well what you were doing.

her eyes shot open when she heard a knock at the open bedroom door, a pornographic moan escaping her lips as thick, white ropes of cum came from her tip. she whimpered as she felt your gaze on her needy, trembling body, her sweet juices making a mess on her stomach and her thighs. you gasped in faux surprise as you stepped closer, leaning over the edge of the bed to take a look at what she'd done. you had to stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip and looking up at her as you feigned disappointed, "pretty baby couldn't even wait 2 more days, could she?" you coo, stroking her thigh and feeling as her body jolted just from your touch. she murmurs her apologies, her mind still too fucked-out to even process what she was apologizing for. still, she whined, her hands reaching out for you as she murmured your name shyly, "m'sorry, mama i—!" she cut herself off with a whiny moan when she felt your fingers wrap around her cock, eyes widening as she tensed beneath your hand. fuck, she was in for it.

@mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @devynscomet @afteraftercare @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @hopelessfawn @zayluvss @meliciousmel13 @karaeilishh

[kingspuppet]

It irks me when people shit on Goro and the argument on why they're doing so makes it feel as if we didn't play the same game at all. It's even worse when people shit on him just to start drama because they know he's a relatively popular character.

I honestly don't care if you dislike Goro. It's entirely valid to feel that way towards him. He's an antagonist and it's natural that it'll happen, and even if he wasn't sometimes people just don't vibe with a character and that's completely okay. I have characters I feel that way towards, and some of them are main characters depicted as the "good guys." You're not going to like every character you come across no matter what their status is in the plot.

But here's the thing: you don't have to be an ass about it. There's respectful ways to dislike the character even as you talk about them in public spaces. You can be critical of the character without actively hating on people that do like/enjoy them. Post a thoughtful discussion!! Or better yet if you really hate the character and have nothing to say but you just wanna piss people off? Keep your mouth shut!! Complain in private!! Just don't be an ass by targeting or attacking the people that like the character. It serves no purpose and it doesn't make you look cool.

[evie-sturns]

mature - Matt sturniolo

summary: where you and your boyfriend matt get into big fight, he knows how to make it up to you, even when you want nothing to do with him.

contains: mature!matt, angst, crying, yelling, fluff, arguing.

————————————🩵————————————

11:56pm

i lay spread across the couch in my pretty white pyjamas, a small bowl of pretzels lay next to me as i watch youtube videos on the tv.

suddenly my peace gets interrupted.

“are you slow? why do you keep making a fucking mess of my house?” matt speaks up, walking into the living room, his eyebrows scrunched.

“what?” i instantly reply quietly,

he walks over to me and lifts up the bowl next to me,

“all of your shit, all over the house, is it that hard for you to pick it up? or do you need me to do that for you aswell.”

his voice isn’t loud, not even mad, but everything that comes out of his mouth is bitchy.

“excuse me? are you forgetting who cleans when you’re filming?” i raise my voice, standing up off the couch to be face to face with him.

he lets out a scoff, “don’t do a good job at it, do you?”

“don’t talk to me like that! you’re starting arguments for no reason!” i glare into matt’s eyes,

“baby, i’m not arguing with you, just try do better for me.” his tone is passive aggressive,

“i’m arguing with you! you can’t speak to me like that!” i yell, pointing my finger in his chest.

“you’re just a bit useless around the house, that’s all.” he says, staring into my eyes.

“no- let me rephrase, you’re just useless in general.” he follows up, my heart thumps against my ribs.

my hand collides with his cheek, slapping him, my eyes instantly widen.

he grabs my wrist, yanking me towards him.

“touch me again see what happens.” he warns, squeezing my wrist in his large hands,

my eyes water,

matt never gets mad at me, he treats me like an actual princess, he’s never made me upset, or cry, never raised his voice at me.

“you’re such an asshole!” i scream at him,

“go! go to the spare room i don’t want to see you!” he shouts back, his voice booming through the room, which is now warm from the heat of the argument.

my heart sinks as he yells,

“go! fuck out of here!”

i pause for a moment, tears blurring my vision, threatening to fall.

i nod, grabbing my phone off the couch and silently walking out of the room.

matt just watches me, his breathing heavy.

tears instantly start flowing, painting my flushed cheeks with warm tears.

i let out a loud strangled sob before reaching the spare bedroom, i walk into the room and slam the door behind me.

“are you crying?” matt calls out, followed by quick footsteps up the hallway.

i flop down onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow as all my emotions pour out of me.

my whole body shakes with each attempt of a breath.

i grab my soft animal on the bed and hold it close to me, clutching it as i cry.

matt opens the door with a small huff, before walking over next to the bed.

he rubs my back soothingly, “cmon, roll over onto your back.” he says softly

i shake my head with a sniffle, my tears dampening the pillow as i sob into it.

“i hate you!” i cry,

“i know, i know you do.” he says, running his fingers across my back,

“you’re so mean.” i sniff, my voice muffled by the pillow.

“i know, i was really mean to you, wasn’t i? and i didn’t mean any of it, just a tiring day.” he sighs,

i nod, matt sits down on the bed beside me and plays with my hair,

“can you look at me please?” he asks, starting to braid my hair at the back.

i slowly lift my face out of the pillow, my eyes puffy and my whole face red.

“there she is, pretty girl.” he smiles, pulling me onto his lap so i straddle him.

i look at his face, the side of it has a small slap mark.

my bottom lips trembles, “i dont know why i slapped you, i’m- im sorry matt.”

he presses a finger to my lips, “shh, sh i deserved it.” he laughs.

“i feel guilty though.” i pout,

“can i tell you a secret?” he asks,

i nod, he whispers into my hair “you didn’t hit me that hard, i promise.”

i feel a small weight get lifted off my chest.

“now take a nice deep breath for me okay?”

i suck in a deep breath,

“good girl, can you give me another one?”

i take in another deep breath, blowing out air through my nose.

he wipes the stray tears away from my face,

“i didn’t mean to make you cry sweetheart, you know i hate seeing you this upset.” he says, looking into my eyes.

“it’s okay.” i sniff,

“i want to see you smile for me,” matt says, i give him a small smile before covering my face.

he pulls my hands away from my face with a small laugh,

“i can’t smile for you when you ask me to, it’s so awkward!” i giggle,

“it’s cute baby.” he grins, scooping me up in his arms and standing up off the bed.

he walks us out of the room, “now lets get you in the bath.”

i squeal as he runs us down the hallway, “you’re gonna drop me!!”

he throws me a couple inches in the air before catching me back in his arms, earning a loud scream from me, followed by loud laughs from him.

he walks into the bathroom, before setting me down on the toilet seat.

he turns on the bath before walking over to me, tugging my tank top off my head,

i feel his cold hands fiddle with the clasp of my bra,

“matt! i can do this myself.” i protest, he shakes his head.

“it’s my pleasure.” he grins, letting my bra fall off of me.

“you’re so stupid.” i laugh, pushing his shoulder lightly.

—

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[droaxa]

awe yandere nerd is so cute!! i wonder how someone who acts oppositely to them would act as a yandere.

-🎀 anon

ooh you’re so right 🎀 anon, a yandere jock or popular kid would be interesting.. so here u are!

✧ yandere jock x reader

yandere jock who is one of the most popular guys at your university, everyone knows him. he plays basketball and is so charming that girls (and guys!) can't help but want to be around him, his handsome features totally help too.

yandere jock who you'd had some classes with in your freshman year. however, you hadn't seen him after that and forgot about him. but he couldn't forget about you

yandere jock who actually didn’t like you when he first met you, he thought you were too much of a doormat. he assumed off your quiet nature and antisocial tendencies that you couldn’t stand up for yourself or make your own decisions. and boy was he wrong

yandere jock who stumbles into you after class, well not really cause you hadn’t seen him yet. he watches a girl say somthing and shove you by your shoulder and he mentally scoffs ‘she gets bullied too? we’re in university i thought she’d grow a backbone by now’

yandere jock who is flabbergasted when you punch the girl straight in her face, she stumbles back, shocked, and curses you before running out the door and past yandere jock

yandere jock who is intrigued by your personality, so this is who you actually were. he tries to get closer to you: sitting beside you in lectures, talking to you after class, but just seem to hate him. often shutting down interactions or using the excuse that you’re busy to get away.

yandere jock who is frustrated but still dedicated, atleast until that semester ended. he’s annoyed because he never sees you anymore, and now that you didn’t have a shared class it’s even harder to catch you.

yandere jock who has you on his mind for the next two years, trying to make conversation with you whenever you saw he saw you. but the confused expression on your face said it all, your forgotten who he was.

yandere jock who’s fucking pissed, he spent two years thinking about you and you don’t even remember who he is? he makes it his life goal to make himself relevant to you. even if his ways were a bit.. unorthodox.

yandere jock who starts to pick on you, pushing you in the halls and spreading rumors about you. you’re confused, what did you even do to him? when you ask him, he just responds with “do i need a reason to?” with a tight grin.

quiet you who is now pissed. who did he think he was? a fucking gift from god that could do anything he wanted? you responds back with shoulder checking him in the hallways and pretending that he was bullying you and other students to the professors (well he kind of was wasn’t he?).

yandere jock who is mildly surprised, wow he knew you could fight back but this was different. he was flustered, you put all this effort into him?

yandere jock who retaliates with something a bit more extreme than you would’ve anticipated, he manages to convince one of the teachers that you cheated on a important test. the end of the year exam.

quiet you who is frustrated and angry, you’d worked your ass off to get that 95% and now he does this? oh it’s over for him

yandere jock who gets expelled from the university a week later. the reason? illegal drugs were found in his sports locker, not only was this against the school code but it put the basketball team at risk.

quiet you who pretends to not know anything, smirking as you get back into your study grind

yandere jock who decides that you need to be taught a lesson, although he’s not allowed on campus anymore, the girls dorms are in the edge of campus.

you wake up in the dark, what time was it? oh, just 2 am. you try to go back to sleep and hear some fabric rustling and you freeze. in the moonlit darkness of your room you can vaguely make out a shadowy figure at the foot of your bed.

your eyes widen and before you can scream or react, the figure leaps up and slams a rough hand over your mouth while keeping your body down with his own weight.

just as he leans over you, you make out his face as the moonlights from your window hits it. a strong face with messy hair you’d seen many times before. you didn’t think you’d see him again.

he grins manically, “you thought you could mess with me, forget about me and get away with it?” his voice breathy, like he was about to break into laughter at any moment.

you shake your head desperately no, tears form in your eyes as you register what’s going to happen to you.

he pressed you deeper into your pillow, your tears now running down your face and his hand. he then leans down to lick your salty tears off his hands and then your soft cheeks.

“fuck, i’ll make you understand why you shouldn’t forget about me”

[unlimitedbutchworks]

sometimes i get so frustrated about how many transmisogynistic users get reblogged despite their reliable-to-the-point-of-predictability episodes of vitriolic hostility against transfems or absolute lack of care in spreading hearsay about us that i think of making a big blocklist or callout, but its a foolish idea because callouts are only for making a spectacle and Other of someone in order to reinforce norms in the in group. transmisogyny callouts never spread to a large audience for this reason; as a rhetorical tool, they are not for enacting justice.

and even if they could, i stop myself, because they're a stupid way of trying to stop bigotry in the first place. we should be striving to be able to recognize bigoted rhetoric and challenge it ourselves, to stand with the marginalized in our communities, rather than making the victims have to point out The Bad Ones over and over since you can't see. and clearly, you can't see! because i cant hardly scroll this website and see an acquaintance reblog a post without recognizing op as either an open transmisogynistic themself, or a useful idiot for transmisogynists and spreading their callouts. (many of which included private pictures and nudes for "evidence" towards their evil kinks; to make this clear, revenge porn with a coat of progressive paint.)

but time and time again, nobody sees the problem when it happens to trans women. its all a pretense to voice preconceptions of disgust to trans women. they dont really believe that making shitty posts is equivalent to actual sexual abuse, just like they dont actually believe that wearing thigh highs is pedophile-coded, its all just excuses to hate trans women like they want to. for them, its just finding excuses to put in the keywords that turn peoples brains off and play into their bias. oh, sure, i cyberstalked literal years into her private nsfw blog to dig up that nude and match it with a selfie from her main and i put both in the callout im spreading around, but why would that be bad? dont you know she calls her girlfriend mommy in private sometimes? look, i did mental gymnastics to equate this consensual roleplay to real world harm, its totally pedo-incest coded! look, i said shes into raceplay apropos of nothing just to get people pissed at her, but you're not gonna check, right? why would spreading that and her nudes- sorry i mean evidence of her crimes to more strangers and exposing her to transphobes be bad? how can it be sexual harassment when the woman person really really deserves it i promise?

[talaok]

Just this once

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.

Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie

Everyone hated you in this town.

Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.

People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.

Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.

In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.

Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.

Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.

Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,

And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.

Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.

I love you

If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.

And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.

They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.

But Mr. Miller was different.

He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.

He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".

And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.

And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.

So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.

And it was only a week later when you told him everything.

He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.

Babysitting his kid.

And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.

taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.

And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.

"dad, what are you talking about?" 

Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.

"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?" 

"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"

"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.

"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"

There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.

You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.

No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.

"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes 

"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"

And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.

And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.

You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.

You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.

You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,

The only exception was when-

The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.

Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.

You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.

"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"

"mh-mh, yes" you nodded

"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.

"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"

He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"

But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.

"What happened?"

They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.

His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.

"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"

You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.

"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"

"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."

"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"

you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.

"t-thank you" you sniffled

"of course, darlin'"

And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.

And god he felt so good

"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"

"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,

"sweetheart this ain't right I-"

"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"

"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.

"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time" 

"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"

"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"

You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him

"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"

"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.

You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.

A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.

"f-fuck" he groaned

You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.

You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.

"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.

You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked

"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"

The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.

series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.

You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.

But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.

You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.

He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.

you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.

"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.

His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too

"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.

"Sweetheart..."

"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster

"Joel- please call me Joel" 

"Please Joel, touch my tits"

And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?

One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.

You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.

The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.

"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"

He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.

You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.

"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"

His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.

your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.

Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect

 "Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"

You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.

"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"

You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.

"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"

 "inside" you whispered without missing a beat

"I c-can't honey-"

"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"

And with that simple sentence, he was done for.

"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.

You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.

And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.

you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.

As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini nini hate fuck with either blade or dan heng pls I beg 🥺💝

I finished this some days ago and it got deleted- also it’s unnecessarily long, and I’m not sure if it’s good… hope you like it anyway 😭😭

Dom!reader x sub!blade (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), chocking, slapping (once), degrading, rough sex, blood (hand injury)

Riiiip

The sound of bandage being ripped.

Blade wrapped his hand with the white cloth, biting one end to tied the other end around it. Slowly the pure colour got tainted with his blood, a crimson colour spreading and seeking though the fabric. He sighed, staring at his own hand with a distaste on his tongue, before glancing at the door. Heavy footsteps could be made out from the other side. Loud and hectic, stomping even. You must have noticed his arrival.

It was just as he predicted. Moments after he finished treating his injury the door got slammed open, a loud bang as the door hit the wall. Your figure stood in the frame, stopping, not entering his chamber. Instead you glared at him and scanned the situation. He instantly noticed how your gaze lingered around his injured hand, and how you were frowning. The man chose to not elaborate, hence you two were holding a starring contest. After a while you closed the door behind you and walked over to him, grabbing his wrist and yelled, “now do you care to explain?”

He knew exactly why you were so angry, but that doesn’t mean he understood it. Not giving him any time to explain himself, something he wouldn’t have done anyway, you continued your nagging, “why do you have to keep going on dangerous missions alone? I can’t reach you at all! It’s not like you use your phone after all.” You stopped for a second, still holding his wrist while he avoided your gaze, gritting your teeth in anger. With an impatient tone you said, “I’m waiting for an answer.”

If it were up to blade, then you could wait until the sun sets. He wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t believe he had to tell you everything. That was if it was up to him, because he knew it would get worse if he doesn’t say anything. With his usual deep voice, he uttered, “I wanted to practice.” This was the best excuse he could think of, practicing his sword. It was reasonable, no? “Practice? It’s more like you wanted to get hurt.” “Not get hurt, I wanted to..” he didn’t really want to say ‘die’ in this context, and you didn’t pursue it any further neither. You sighed at him, followed by a rough push from your hands. The male fell backwards, now laying on his back, stabilising himself with his hands.

“Lay down.” You ordered, and yanked the arm with the injured hand away, you didn’t want him to keep using that hand so much. The spot where his hand was has been tainted red. He glanced at you hesitatingly, his dark blue bangs almost covered his entire face. Soon he obeyed your command and laid on his back, you were still raising his arm up into the air. “Keep it raised.” Once again, you gave him another cold order. How did it escalate to this? He was pretty sure he knew what you were going to do, yet he didn’t mind. Just then his speculations were correct, and you pulled his pants down.

He smirked, it was a mocking one, as if he was laughing at you. At this sudden unexpected change in atmosphere. After a bit he asked with a challenging tone, “did the sight of me hurt turn you on?” You knew he was playing now, so why not join in? “Have you finally decided to speak, now that I’m in your pants?” Your hands grabbed his knees, raising them to his chest and folding him apart. It wasn’t about doing him a favour, so you just proceeded to manhandle him, making him spread his legs for you. “So eager, aren’t you? Give me a break.” Blade said, but he allowed you to do whatever you wanted without resisting. Without giving him any glances, you replied “Same goes to you.”

Even though you two shared such a foul mouthed conversation, the advances you did on him continued. Then you stood up, walked around the room for a bit and came back with a bottle of lube. The blue haired man looked at you awkwardly and waited, feeling a little stupid at the situation in front of him. As soon as you came back, you started working on his abdomen. Opening the bottle, squeezing some of the lube onto his half erect shaft. The cold liquid made him flinch slightly, and he frowned as he watched you keep coating him with that slippery fluid. It flowed all the way down to his hole, and his rim clenched. What a roundabout way to prepare him, he thought you were being unnecessarily childish.

With one of your fingers, you sloppily spread the contents of the bottle around his lower body. Somehow the mood was getting heavier with every second and he didn’t know what to say, until your little comments returned. “Getting exited, little pervert?” You also coated your own dick with the lube, before lining it up with his entrance. “So much that you stopped talking, cat got your tongue?” He wasn’t going to let you go away with that, or at least that’s what he planned. Instead of coming up with a snarky remark he had to bite his lip to stop a moan erupting from his throat.

“Gu-Mhn..! You- fuck..” his eyes widened a little, and he was furrowing his brows even more than before. You sticked it in without some proper preparation, and it caught him off guard. Since you used a lot of lube, the tip still slipped in, but the rest was starting to get difficult. He wanted to curse at you, yet the words didn’t come out, so he just hold it and glared at you. If you didn’t know him you’d think he wants you dead, even so you weren’t pleased by that, so you chuckled, “not with those eyes, bladie. I’m sure your hole can take it, after I fucked it so good last time.” “Shut up- ugHh..! You.. shit.” Suddenly his hand reached out to you. You didn’t know what he was trying to do, which is why you grabbed his arm and kept it in place. His hand was now in the air, some blood drops were dripping onto his belly.

“Keep your pawns to yourself.” You had such an annoying smile while you said that, especially so while you pushed the rest of your length in. “UHh..! Mhm-nGghH..” the male was still trying his best to keep quiet, making some grunts and groans on the way. Fuck, if this was under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be able to keep his hand still like this, he was sure he was stronger. Though this wasn’t a normal situation, with you inside him, spreading him open with your cock. It was strange but he felt a little vulnerable, and so hot.

Sweat was forming on his skin, face turning redder by the second. It must be because he just came back from a mission, he is tired, thats why he is feeling all this heat. He blinked, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling, noticing his heart rate going up and body twitch each time you touch him. When he opened his eyes again you were inches away from his face, startling him a little. With a gentle whisper, unlike your tone before, you mumbled into his ear, “you want to get hurt? I’ll make it hurt.”

The face of the male was crimson red now, matching the colour of his hand. He took a tad longer to process the information, and you didn’t give him that moment. You started moving without giving him a warning, hips snapping against his at an already rough pace. “Ugh-uUugGh..!! Wa-waAaaiit.., oh- fuck, fuck. It mhm.. hurts.” Blade clenched his fists, more red coated his tummy. You slowed down a little, intertwining your fingers with his injured hand, not minding the blood sticking to your palms. Then you resumed to your previous movements, pounding into him like there’s so tomorrow.

The switched between your gentleness and relentless actions made his head spin. He really tried to keep the noise down but to no avail. Without him noticing you went down again to whisper more dirty things into his brain, like calling him degrading names. Blade wrapped his other hand over your neck, gasping and whining as you kept going, whispering as a begging voice, “please.. ah, haah..” “does it hurt?” He answered without thinking, “a-a bit.., uhhh..” to which you asked again, “do you hate it?”

Both of you knew what he would answer, and he didn’t want to cover up the truth as he uttered the words, “no, I love it.” That’s when the insulting really hit off, now that you were sure he enjoyed it too. “You really only go into fights because you’re a fucking masochist, aren’t you?” He shook his head, suddenly so expressive unlike before. “You sure you aren’t actually a male prostitute? Hmm blade? You fucking whore.” Even though you were calling him such hurtful name with such fever, he only felt hotter. The trust and the feeling of your dick rubbing against his walls was unreal, like a dream. And he wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or not.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave like that again.” You said, panting a little too since you were still rutting into him like a damn animal. Despite all those hateful words, there was no way you actually hated him. You were angry because you cared, that’s all. And he knew it as well. Now your own hand looked like a grotesque mess, mixed with his and stuck to the bandages. He also didn’t feel pain anymore, or rather, it was because the pleasure was too overwhelming. It was all too much, from the way it rubbed against his deepest parts, to the fast pace you set. This felt so good he could cry.

When he still didn’t nod to your demand, you stopped holding his hand, they both instead reached out to his neck. The pale skin was now tainted red on one side. You squeezed down onto his trachea, watching his mouth hung open. “Did you understand me, blade?” He chocked, hand meekly reaching out to yours out of reflex. But he didn’t use any strength to keep you from suffocating him, only staring at you through his clouded vision. You thought you saw the corners of his mouth going upwards into a smile, and you watched his face get even redder. After a while you stopped, he immediately inhaled and panted. A bodily reaction, nothing he could control.

“I still haven’t gotten my answer.” You reminded him and started fucking into him again, at a slower pace. He trembled, his hole clenching around you even more now that you were moving so gently. It was way too late for that, after you’ve been so rough with him, no? Because now it’s not enough for him anymore, he needed you harder and deeper. Out of nowhere he felt a harsh slap on his cheek, causing him to shake. “Ah..” the male whimpered, eyes gazing up at you. You looked at him like he was vermin, akin to one would look at an insect. This alone caused a shiver to run down his spine and an uncomfortable twitch at his lower body.

He knew you wanted him to agree, but he didn’t want to, he wished to keep fulfil those missions on his own. This wasn’t something you could change, and he wasn’t willing to lie to you. Instead of answering your question, he grabbed your hand with his, and begged prettily. In a submissive tone, with a sweet pleading voice he said, “please, it’s not enough… I want you so deep inside me.” You noticed him spread his legs wider for you, and his injured hand being thrown over his mouth. Then he licked some of his own blood off.

You knew he won’t listen to you, after so many tries you knew. So instead of trying any longer, maybe you should go along with his request? Even if it leaves a bad taste on your tongue…

[moonstruckme]

hey if you don’t mind, I’ve been struggling with a lot of anxiety and it makes my chest hurt a bunch so maybe you could rwrite something like that with anyone you’d like, ofc if you’d rather not that’s totally.

have a wonderful day dearie

Thanks for requesting baby, I'm really sorry you're dealing with that! I hope maybe you're feeling a bit better by now.

cw: anxiety, chest pain

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus knows you mainly watch this show because he likes it, and yet he’s dozing off. After a long shift at the hospital, the clashing of swords sounds about as lulling as a thunderstorm outside the bedroom window to his tired ears, and his head slowly slumps backwards against the couch cushion. When snuggle closer to his side, head needling its way almost into his armpit, he thinks you’re trying to get him to wake up. 

“Sorry.” His voice comes out raspy, drowsiness clinging to his vocal chords like a paste. 

You pull away, looking up at him. “Oh no,” you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

The guilt in your voice has him responding instinctively, “It’s okay.” Remus drapes an arm across your shoulders, encouraging you back to where you were. “I was only resting my eyes.” It’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, so he moves on quickly. “What’s up, hm?” 

“I was wondering if I could have a hug,” you say quietly, tentatively, your eyes not quite on his, “if that’s okay.” 

Remus checks himself before he can look too surprised. “Of course it’s okay,” he says, tightening his grip on you. 

Granted permission, you go all out. You turn your body into his, both arms wrapping tight around his midsection and face burrowing in the soft material of his sweater. Remus adjusts his hold to get a better grip on you. He brings his other hand to your head, cupping the back firmly. 

Asking for affection like this, so explicitly, is unexpected from you. It makes Remus feel like he’s just had a cup of tea, spreading warmth through his insides and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue. You hate to need him, but he loves to let you. He’ll take any chance to take care of you. He likes to think a secretive little part of you likes to be cared for, too. 

The exhaustion in his bones melts into something heavy and fond as he pets the back of your head. “Everything alright, sweetheart?” 

You hum into his armpit. “Just felt like I needed this, for some reason.” 

“Any reason’s good enough for me,” Remus half-jokes, dropping a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Did you have a long day, too?” 

“Not really.” Your voice dips into a lower register, disgruntled and bemused. You turn your face up so you can see him but don’t pull away, scooting closer to tighten your hold. “Nothing’s happened, I just feel a bit off, I guess. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting all afternoon.” 

He can see the regret in your expression when his eyebrows go up, and Remus laughs. 

“Oi, what’s that look about?” 

“I’m not trying to put you on the clock.” 

“No,” he says, smiling as he kisses your hairline, “You’re not, honey.” But he does reach for the remote, pausing the TV and silencing your background noise. 

Your eyes narrow. “You’ve got that serious look, though.” 

“That’s just my face, I can’t really help it.” Admittedly, chest pain worries him. Remus is prone to worrying about anything that ails you; it's where his job and his boyfriend duties collide. Still, he doubts you’ve been having a heart attack for the entire afternoon, so he’s not going to frighten you by telling you about the vast number of things chest pain can point to. “Where does it hurt? Can you show me?” 

You sigh and lean back, putting space between your chest and Remus’ side. “Sort of here,” you say, flattening your palm over your sternum. 

“Is it a concentrated pain,” he asks, “or more of an ache?” 

“More like an ache,” you admit. “It’s sort of, like, burning? But that sounds more dramatic than it really is.” 

He ignores the last part of your statement, setting his hand on your chest and pushing down gently. “Does that make it worse?” 

You shake your head, and Remus hums. You haven’t been coughing; he would have noticed. He works two fingers under your jaw. 

“What else feels weird, sweetheart?” 

“I’m not sure,” you tell him, starting to sound a bit raw. “I just feel…not right, you know? Is that bad?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, letting his fingers drop from your pulse point. ”I think you’re mostly okay.” He uses both hands to pull you into his lap. “C’mere, baby dove.” 

You seem far from unhappy at being moved, pushing your face into Remus’ neck and letting him rest his chin atop your head. “What?” you ask. 

“Did you have coffee this afternoon?” 

“Yeah.” You sound cautious. “Why?” 

“And did you eat before?” 

“Remus.” Your warning tone is undercut by unease. 

He kisses your head in apology. “I think your chest hurts because you’re anxious, honey,” he says. “The caffeine probably made it worse.” 

You go quiet for a minute. Remus rubs your back, sorry for the invisibility of your hurt but relieved that its cause isn’t something more sinister. When you pull away, you’re frowning. 

“I don’t think it’s that,” you say. “It’s never felt like this before.” 

Remus feels his mouth slant in sympathy. “I think coffee without eating is already a bad idea, but then if you got anxious and we started watching a stressful show,” he tries to convey some apology in his expression, “it might have made your nerves feel worse than you’re used to.” 

“I think I’m only nervous because my chest hurts.” You blow out a breath. “It’s kind of a chicken and egg thing, yeah?” 

Remus hums, running his hand up the length of your spine. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm. “Humor me for a minute?” 

You sigh again. It looks strenuous. “Sure.” 

“Breathe with me,” he instructs, folding you back towards his front. You go willingly, though you seem tenser now than before, your hands nearly rigid on his back. “In for eight.” 

He listens to be sure you’re doing it with him, feeling your chest expand against his own. He lets his palm lie still beneath your shoulder blades, sneaking a gauge of your heart rate. 

“Hold for eight.” 

Remus feels your nose press into his collar. He turns his lips into your forehead, holding his lungs at their full capacity and knowing that if it’s difficult for him, it has to be considerably worse for you. 

By the time you’re finished breathing out it's a relief for you both, and you turn your face up to his with a bit less skepticism. 

“That was hard,” you admit. 

Remus bites back an I-told-you-so, but he knows his smile must say enough of it when you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“Why don’t I change it to something a bit lighter,” he says, nodding towards the TV. “We can do more breathing during the commercial breaks, yeah?” 

You appear to consider this. “And we can keep cuddling?” 

Remus’ chuckle lures a smile out of you. He’s exceedingly gratified to see it. “That was never up for debate.” 

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Kinktober Day 13 🎃

Tom Riddle x Blood (630 words)

A/N: let's be real, out of all the potential kinks the HP universe men could have, this one feels the most character accurate LOL. Please ffs read the warnings on this one and feel free to skip if this is not your thing. Warnings: || NSFW || MDNI || 18+ Characters || P in V || Peri0d bl00d || yup you read that right || Tom Riddle being Tom Riddle I feel like that needs a warning in itself ||

You gently locked the Restriction Section gate as quietly as you had unlocked it, leaving your disillusionment charm set until you descended down to its lower level. Your eyes found Tom right away as he paced around the shelves impatiently. He hated tardiness, but you had a valid reason. Your period had just started hours beforehand, almost making you cancel your encounter tonight. But you didn’t want to disappoint him, fully aware of how obsessed with you he was. And quite frankly, you wanted to see him too, even though you knew you couldn’t really do much tonight. 

“I’m so sorry I’m…”

Your words were silenced immediately as he crashed his lips into yours, uninterested in your excuses tonight. The force at which he crashed into you sent you stumbling into a nearby table, a muffled squeal sounding against Tom’s lips. 

Despite the stumble, Tom’s lips remained connected to yours as if you were his source of oxygen. It was animalistic the way he grabbed at your clothes, eager to tear them off your body. Part of you was frightened by his intensity, but another, more prevalent part of you was desperate for him, heat rising in your body as he discarded your blouse to the floor, hands shooting to your hips to work off the rest of your clothes. As much as it pained you to do it, you reached for his hands, stopping his movements. An annoyed look graced his face.

“Tom, we can’t…I’m menstruating.” 

A loud cackle left his lips, leaving you confused. His hands resumed their work, maneuvering your skirt down your body. 

“Do you really think I care about that?” He sneered through gritted teeth. Quite frankly, the thought of being covered in your blood, your pure and sacred magical blood, sounded like the closest he'd ever get to heaven. The blood being from your cunt was merely an added bonus. 

Curiosity replaced your nervousness as you sat back on the table you had just bumped into and spread your legs. He was the first guy to ever be so eager to fuck you in this state, and you didn’t know what to expect. 

Tom slid into you instantly, and immediately began his assault on your body, his thrusts hard and unforgiving. As your eyes moved to meet his, you noticed that his gaze was locked on the spot where your bodies met, seemingly fascinated by the bloody mess. Although you refused to look down, still feeling slightly embarrassed, you could certainly feel the mess you were making. But watching Tom gaze down hungrily at you, completely unbothered by your blood, released any remaining inhibitions you still had. You gave into the pleasure, loud moans leaving your lips with each snap of his hips. 

You came with a shudder and a scream of Tom’s name, Tom never once stopping his movements as you orgasmed around him. He followed you off the edge moments later with a groan, releasing deep within you. Curiosity got the better of you finally, your eyes trailing down to watch him slowly pull out of you, his cock smeared with blood. Embarrassment overcame you again as your body throbbed from his absence, a combination of blood and semen beginning to drip out of you. But your embarrassment was snuffed out once more as you watched Tom’s eyes widen at the sight of you, a wicked smile forming on his face. All the while, his fingers were wrapped around his cock, further smearing your blood up and down his length. 

You couldn’t help yourself, apologizing for the mess twice while you got yourself cleaned up and dressed. Both apologies went ignored as Tom stared off into the distance, fantasizing about more opportunities where he could be covered in your pure, magical blood. 

[xspiderxx]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒. 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

paring: fem!reader x miguel o'hara

summary: just how would be a friends with benefits relationship with miguel.

warnings: Miguel out of character maybe? nsfw, not established relationship, unprotected sex, jealousy, i'm being self indulgent.

❊ it starts one night after having some drinks with friends. He was taking you home, when you two started to talk about how horny the alcohol makes you both

❊ which leads to you inviting him in just to have some coffee to sober up, but it's just an excuse, because you didn´t drink that much, just enough to find the courage to do what you both have been wishing for so long

“are we really doing this?” you moan while he kisses your neck, trailing kisses down your body.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks, stopping what he's doing, looking into your eyes.

“no, keep going. Keep going” you beg, spreading your legs, allowing him to kiss your clothed pussy.

❊ it was suposse to be a one time thing, but it ends being an anytime thing. Any of you calling or sending a message with something as simple as “wanna come over?” or “can I see u?

❊ the first few times were great. After hooking up you used to leave, and that was all. Until one night, it was a long day for Miguel, and he just fell asleep after one of your sessions

you are trying to recover from your climax when he starts to cum, shooting his seed inside you with a raspy groan.

“mierda” he mutters against your neck, still inside you, trying to catch his breath “you have no idea how much I needed that, cariño” he pulls out slowly, collapsing on the bed next to you “can I sleep here just for tonight? estoy realmente cansado”

“yeah” you say, not sure if he heard you before falling asleep

the morning after, you wake up with Miguel still sleeping, with his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he can

❊ after that everything feels more intimate, crossing the “just sex" line

❊ and of course, your friends are not blind. They see the stolen glances, the holding hands under the table, all those "accidental" touches

“we're just friends” you say, rolling your eyes, taking his hand off your thigh.

And for some reason, he hates how hearing that makes him feel.

❊ I think that he would be the first one to catch feelings, so he is the first one to be jealous

“wait, are you jealous?” you smirk, placing a hand on his chest.

“what? no. why would I be jealous?” he mutters, walking away from you

❊ but at the end of the day, neither of you are willing to make the next move because you're too scared of screwing things up.

“we're just friends, right?” you whine and he almost laughs at the scenario. At how funny it's the question while he has his dick buried deep inside your cunt.

“yeah, just friends, preciosa” he hisses, rocking his hips against yours.

[umseb]

The Day Sebastian Vettel Decided To Retire From F1 — Then Annoyed Aston Bosses With Climate Campaign

Two years ago, Sebastian Vettel decided to bring an end to his glittering F1 career, so picked up the phone to Matt Bishop, then Aston Martin comms boss. He details the ensuing scramble and Vettel's increasing determination to speak out

Just over two years ago, on Wednesday July 27, 2022, I was forced to do something that I really hate doing: at the eleventh hour I had to cancel a long-standing dinner arrangement with my husband and two of our dearest friends, who live in New York and were on holiday in London for a week. The reason was that, at 5 pm that afternoon, I received a phone call from Sebastian Vettel telling me that he had decided to announce his retirement from Formula 1 in the Hungarian Grand Prix paddock the following day. I was Aston Martin's chief communications officer at the time, and, when something as big as that is sprung on a Formula 1 team's most senior comms/PR operative, he or she has to drop everything and focus on briefing colleagues in confidence, writing press releases, planning social media content, arranging press conferences, and formulating comms/PR strategies designed to optimise the management of a tricky news narrative that in this case would surely unfold rapidly, and perhaps also trickily, over the next 24, 48, 72, and 96 hours. I have written above that Vettel had "sprung" his decision on me, but, although the imminence of his announcement was a surprise, its content was not. Four months earlier you will recall that he did not travel to Jeddah for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, since he was recovering from a bout of Covid-19. His place was taken by Nico Hülkenberg, who, despite race-rustiness caused by his not having competed in F1 the previous year, did a typically excellent job.

Seb had made no secret of his disapproval of the Saudi regime when we had all gone there the first time, in December 2021, and, not surprisingly, in March 2022 rumours soon began to spread to the effect that he had invented a Covid-19 diagnosis so as to avoid racing there a second time. The truth was that he had indeed had Covid-19, and that he was indeed still unwell; however, was he disappointed to have had to skip the 2022 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix? No, he was not. Two weeks later, in Melbourne, he was back. On the Thursday before the Australian Grand Prix, in the Albert Park paddock, I gave him his comms/PR briefing, as was my habit on the Thursday before every grand prix. We discussed media matters of moment, including his not having raced in Jeddah. "The truth is that I was ill, honestly," he said, "but I admit that I don't like or approve of the country, so if I was going to have to miss a race because of Covid-19 that's probably the one I'd want to miss." He paused, smiled, and added, "I'm pretty sure I'm never going to race there again." Then and there I realised that 2022 would probably be his final season as an F1 driver. Not only was the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix going to be a fixture on the F1 calendar for years to come, but also one of Aston Martin's principal sponsors was Aramco, Saudi Arabia's state-owned national oil company. Missing that particular race without a 24-carat excuse would henceforth therefore be impossible for any Aston Martin driver. So, axiomatically, it followed that the only way he could make sure that he would never have to race there again would be to retire from F1 at the end of the year.

On the morning of Thursday, July 28, 2022, having worked until 3 am the night before, my comms/PR team and I issued a video in which our much loved four-time world champion announced his F1 retirement in his own words, and he posted it on his then brand-new Instagram channel at the same time. It included the following sentences, which he spoke with his usual eloquence: "I love this sport but, as much as there's life on track, there's also life off track. Being a racing driver has never been my sole identity. I want to be a great father and a great husband. I believe in change, and progress, and that every little bit you do can make a difference. We all have the same rights, no matter where we come from, what we look like, or whom we love. I'm an optimist and I believe that people are good, but, in addition, I feel that we live in very difficult times. How we shape the next few years will determine the rest of our lives. Talk is not enough. We can't afford to wait. I believe that there's still a race to win." The race to which he was referring was his growing and accelerating commitment to doing whatever he could to leverage his fame and popularity for the good of the inhabitants of planet Earth. That may sound grandiose, but it is also entirely valid. In the two years during which I worked with him, 2021 and 2022, we won awards for the inspirational way in which he did just that.

Just before the 2021 Styrian Grand Prix, helped by local schoolchildren, he created an F1 car-shaped 'bee hotel' at the Red Bull Ring. Three weeks later, straight after the British Grand Prix, in which he had raced hard for forty laps until his Aston Martin's Mercedes engine had terminally overheated, he led a group of volunteer litter-pickers to clear the Silverstone grandstands of the trash that irresponsible spectators had left behind. A month after that, in Hungary, infuriated by that country's new anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, he wore rainbow-coloured sneakers in the F1 paddock, and he donned a similarly hued T-shirt bearing the legend #SameLove as he took the knee on the grid before the race. Throughout the weekend he had talked to journalists and TV crews intelligently, thoughtfully, and compassionately on the subject of LGBTQ+ rights, equality, and inclusion. In May 2022 he visited and spoke inspirationally at HMP (Her, or now His, Majesty's Prison) Feltham, a young offenders institution in a suburb of west London, formally opening a new workshop in which the teenage inmates could learn how to become car mechanics as part of their rehabilitation. Immediately afterwards he and I took a South Western Railways train to London's Waterloo Station, sitting among regular commuters, so that he could spend time with the pupils of Oasis Johanna Primary School, which is in a disadvantaged part of inner London, and after that we went by Uber taxi to a church in Hackney, in the East End, where the BBC's prestigious political television talk show Question Time would be filmed. As the TV cameras rolled, he conversed fluently on the subjects of Brexit, the UK's cost of living crisis, the then-Prime Minister Boris Johnson's 'partygate' shenanigans, and even Finland's desire to join NATO, consummately out-arguing one of his fellow panellists, Suella Braverman, who was then the Attorney General for England and Wales and the Advocate General for Northern Ireland.

In addition, as the months went by, he continued to speak out in support of what he saw as humankind's collective global responsibility to address the climate crisis, doing so with increasing regularity, vehemence, and fearlessness, with the result that he began to irritate the very most senior people at Aston Martin, even though what he said tended to please most journalists and fans. "I don’t care," he said when he learned of his big bosses' disquiet. "I must do what's right." Behind the scenes what he did was perhaps even more admirable. F1 teams receive communications from troubled people all the time. You try to do what you can to help them, but sometimes their difficulties are of the type that human kindness alone cannot resolve. I am thinking of recently bereaved people, terminally ill people, profoundly disabled people, people with debilitating mental health issues, etc. Sometimes all you can do is send them a team cap signed by a driver. It is not much, and it breaks your heart that you cannot do more, but it is better than nothing.

Yet Vettel always tried to do more. On one occasion, I had been contacted by a young man who was deeply depressed. I told Seb about him, and he said, "Let's do a Zoom call with him." So I arranged it. I had thought that Seb might speak for five minutes or so, but no. He chatted animatedly for more than twenty minutes, with touching humility and heart-warming empathy, and I feel confident when I say that those twenty-odd minutes were significant in expediting the lad's mental and emotional recovery. A few months later, Seb hand-wrote the boy a four page letter. He gave it to me at a grand prix-I cannot remember which one-and he instructed me to post it on when I returned to the UK. I read it before I did so, and the tenderness and beauty of Seb's prose brought me to tears. There are many other examples of his remarkable generosity and sensitivity: too many to mention, in fact. This column has been about Vettel the man, not Vettel the driver. He was fast and clever in the cockpit, and I may well write about that side of him one day. I could write much more about Vettel the man, too, for I have dozens of stories that I could tell on that subject, because I worked very closely with him for two years and, more importantly, because he is a truly great man. In my long career I am lucky enough to have spent time in F1 teams with four world champions-Seb, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, and Jenson Button-and they are all fantastic guys in their own, very different, ways. But, in my 61 years on this planet, I can state with confident and emphatic certainty that Sebastian Vettel, from the small town of Heppenheim, south-west Germany, is one of the most impressive people whom I have ever had the pleasure and honour to know, whether that be inside or outside F1. As he is fond of saying, "You can't always be the best, but you can always do your best." As a maxim to live by, it is hard to beat.

article by matt bishop

[fairyofshampgyu]

Why do you hate me?

Pairing: class president! kai x stoner! reader

genre: smut, crack

warning: sub! kai x dom! reader, use of drugs, sex whilst high, riding, humping, semi public, nipple play, corruption kink (?)

word count: 1.5k

“As you all know there was a big fight that went viral and was shared across numerous platforms between two students last week.”

Everyone excitedly burst into chatter and giggles, talking about the fight between choi beomgyu and choi soobin when they had—more of a hair pulling fight—over beomgyu stealing soobin’s last strawberry drink and throwing it over the fence.

“Please don’t film these kinds of situations or spread them. We’ll be looking out for the main perpetrators who filmed and spread this. It’d be helpful if anyone had any information. We should all be upstanders not bystanders!”

The whole class not so subtly, stares at Kang Taehyun, the said culprit and who filmed the entire fight, dealing out the whole, ‘exclusive’ recording to see who actually won for $20. He appears nonchalant though, sitting in his seat upright and also looking around the classroom in shock, feigning innocence.

“The two students have been dealt with accordingly and will both be in seclusion until further notice. Oh! Also the last concern raised with the committee was the littering issue going round. Please make sure to not leave your food or litter around and clean up after yourselves!” Huening Kai stood at the front of the class, enthusiastically and confidently delivering his speech as class president.

The students erupted into cheers and claps and whistles for their adored class president. Everyone loved huening Kai. It was hard not to when he was so friendly and good looking, greeting everyone with a wide smile as he passed the corridors, most squealing over his charisma.

However, you were one not so fond of his sunny disposition. You didn’t like how he adhered and maintained the rules whilst you actively tried to break them. You found his cheeriness and enthusiasm and the way people fawned over him quite irritating in actuality.

You rolled your eyes, turning to talk to your other stoner friend Taeyong about how annoying the class president was.

“With how much you talk about huening Kai, I’d think you actually have a crush on him or something.” Taeyong raises one of his pierced brows.

“What? As if!” You let out an incredulous scoff.

“I’m just saying you talk way too much about how you dislike him, never for a plausible reason. It feels like you’re actually obsessed with him. Your enemies to lovers arc?” Taeyong snickers.

“That literally doesn’t make any sense.” You elbow him in disgust and go on to chatting and complaining about something else.

Huening kai had caught your eye roll after his speech as he sat back in his seat, frowning and becoming overridden with confusion and sadness. He knew you had never liked him and he just couldn’t wrap his head around why, wanting to fix things with you so badly if he could.

“Oh! Kai!” The teacher stops him in the middle of the hallway, exhaling a breath of relief after finally catching up. “I’m really busy now so as class president could you go and look into some of the students hiding and smoking behind the art block all the time? We need to actually deal with this problem of drugs in our school. Inspectors are coming in soon we need to look good and not have them walking in seeing students smoking.”

“Sure thing, miss!”

“And make sure you report back to me the names of students there. Thank you, Kai.”

Huening Kai sighs, teachers always loved to dump their issues and own work on himself using it as an excuse that he was the class president and giving him way too much responsibility than he should have. He practically did everything around here and it could get quite stressful being so relied on at times.

Kai follows the trail of smoke he can see to the hidden part behind the art block. Everyone should be in class right now so he wonders who it is that is smoking.

When he makes it there his eyes catch yours, the only person here and he must say, he’s not that surprised.

“You should be in class right now with everyone else, y/n.”

You roll your eyes and stare at him with disgust, “Wow it’s the class president ready to ruin the mood again.”

Kai frowns, face resembling that of a kicked puppy and looking back at you with a pout, “Why do you hate me so much, y/n? Did I do something? Is there any way I can fix it?”

Your mouth parts in surprise, taken a back by how genuinely upset he seems about it. You can feel a little pang in your heart seeing him this way, feeling like you have to immediately change it and you don’t know why.

“Uhh…I don’t-I don’t hate you, Kai. I just-you’re not my favourite person in the world.”

He seems more upset by that, bottom lip jutting out.

“Um! I mean…I don’t know…We’re just very different people”

“I don’t mean to make you feel so unequal. As class president-“

You groan, “Do you ever give that a rest? Don’t you ever get bored of that?”

“Actually, it does get quite tiring and stressful sometimes being so depended and admired on by everyone, thinking that I can do everything. I guess you never really have though.” Huening kai comes to sit on the bench with you.

You pause in thought, placing the joint to your lips again, “You know what would make you feel better?”

“What?”

“This.” You wavered the joint.

“I-I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’ll make you feel good, no one’s around.”

Huening Kai contemplates it with a worried glance, eventually giving into the temptation of it. “O-okay…just to try though.”

Kai accepts the joint with trembling fingers, looking at you to see if he's doing it right and taking a puff before spluttering and coughing and you laugh a little.

It's not a long before the weed starts to kick in as you both take turns passing the joint and taking drags, laughter and giggles mingling with the smoke that curled and enveloped you both.

Caught up in the hazy euphoria, both your eyes meet, locking in a trance-like gaze and your eyes flicker down to his pretty lips for a second and he does the same until something comes over you and you can’t resist, quickly leaning in and cupping his cheek, smashing your lips with his.

Yeah, It’s the drugs. You’ve definitely never thought about this moment before.

You make out with kai in a frenzy that matches both your heightened state, soft lips moving against each other and you move to straddle his lap instead, causing him to look up at you in surprise. You grin before trailing the rough kisses on his neck instead and he can’t contain his embarrassed whimpers anymore, cheeks so hot and flushed as you caressed one of them.

You can feel him growing harder underneath you and you pull him closer, grinding against him.

“Y-y/n!” Kai yelps and gasps, scrunching his eyes shut at the feeling and contact of his dick.

You do it again, his reactions so amusing. With a particular rough roll of your hips, kai’s eyes roll deeply back, gripping onto your hips until he starts to chase it as well, hips moving of their own accord and rutting against you with his mouth agape.

Huening kai’s usual well articulated, spoken and composed self long gone, easily replaced with flushed cheeks and a mixture of stammering breaths and whimpers and moans as you both continuously grind and hump against each other.

In a rush you undo his pants, his flushed and thick cock springing out and kai shyly hides in the crook of your neck. You take his dick, pushing your panties aside and slowly sink down on him, kai biting at your neck and moaning out loud.

Slowly you ride him, having to cover his mouth with your hand from how obvious he was being as tears welled up in his eyes.

You lean to whisper against his ear, nibbling at it and thumbing over his impossibly red cheeks, “You’re such a good boy.” Which only spurs him more on and his muffled whines.

You deliriously bounce on his cock, sounds so sticky and obscene, removing your hand and attaching your lips with his again and drinking up all his noises, quickening your movements to get him to the edge, hands going up his buttoned shirt to roll your fingers over his pretty tits.

“t-think m’close…”

“Cum for me.”

And he moans even louder than he has, hands gripping on your shirt for dear life and head lolling back, body trembling as his cum spills in your pussy and you moan as well, both your eyes filled with a dazed satisfaction.

He rests his forehead with yours and pants heavily, you ruffling his hair as his eyes still flutter open and shut, suddenly taking in the weight of what just happened.

“I-I know shouldn’t have…b-but I liked it.” Huening kai sheepishly stutters, still breathing heavily.

You smile, sheen of sweat on your forehead and kiss him one more time, “Same.”

Huening kai decides not to report the person smoking behind the art block, instead finding himself frequenting there just to see you and smoke and make out, a secret new found place where he can relieve tension and stress.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s discouraging and sad when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨 Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write :) !

Taglist: @jayoonology @banggyu0308 @idontwantoeatspicy @lovelyhyuka14

[avenging-fandoms]

pedro pulling you away from a party for no reason other than: “I just need to be with you. nothing sexual. nothing rushed. I just need you to hold me”

You held your drink in the air as you danced with your friends, swaying your hips to the song. You couldn't remember whose party you were at, but it was huge, full of celebrities and fun as hell. Dating a celebrity really had its perks sometimes.

Pedro stood against the wall with a couple friends and kept his lips in a thin line as he listened to them talk, then kept his eyes on you. The music started to pound in his ears and his shirt was getting itchy. His drink was starting to sweat and he hated the way his hands felt.

He set his drink down, excusing himself softly and stepped onto the floor and you smile, dancing over to him. "Hi, Princesa. Come with me?"

Your smile lowers a bit and you nod, taking his hand and following him. Pedro walks a bit before finding a room away from the party which was a bathroom. "Is everything okay?" He closed and locked the door, putting you up on the counter and spreading your legs, standing in between them with his hands resting on your thighs.

Pedro's arms wrap around your waist loosely with his cheek on your bare chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I just need to be with you, I need you to touch me. Not like.. that.. I was getting overwhelmed and just need your touch."

You smile and rub your hands over his back, humming softly. "Do you just want to leave? I'm ready to leave when you're ready." You hands hold his face, thumbs rubbing under his eyes and you kiss him softly.

"Yeah but, in a minute." His arms tighten around your hips and carries you to the tub, laying down in the tub with you on top.

“Pedro.. I can lay next to you.”

“No no, I need you fully on top of me. All your weight, please.” You giggle and lay your head on his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair as you two breathe together. It had been 10 minutes before Pedro broke the beautiful silence with the music, cheers and laugher in the other room coming under the door. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go, Pedro.” You kissed him a few times before sitting up, Pedro stepping out and holding out his hand to help you out. You held his hand as you left the bathroom, doing an Irish goodbye and heading to the car. You two melt in the seats, Pedro’s head falling onto your shoulder. “I think I want a bath in my own tub when we get home.”

Pedro picks his head up and looks at you with a smile. “With some snacks and wine?” You nod and Pedro claps, kissing you a couple of times. “Thank you for coming tonight, it looked like you had fun.”

“I had so much fun! Florence and Emily are literally the best.��� Pedro listened to you contently as he traced every line in the palm of your hand.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great. 

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out. 

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging. 

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

[iamthat-iam]

"Ego", The Final Boss

Olivia (she prefers to be called Liv) has been on quite the spiritual journey for a couple of years. She was born and raised Catholic, then as a teen she decided to leave the church because it didn't resonate with her. She went through a law of attraction phase, followed by law of assumption, and finally, she found non dualism from a few Twitter and Tumblr accounts.

The message, from what she gathered, was that she needed to fully drop the ego in order to realize her true self/true nature and to experience whatever she wanted. She even read a few books where realized masters have spoken about their own personal journeys of dropping ego and how life is generally more peaceful for them now that they've done so.

Now, Liv is one with a troubled past. She would give anything to become an entirely different person with no childhood trauma, and just a happy life all around. She meditated every single day, practiced "sitting in silence", and tried her hardest to detach from her "ego."

She stopped enjoying her usual hobbies out of fear of identifying too much with the character. She would go out of her way to correct thoughts that she felt were "too related to being the person." Needless to say, her mental health began to go downhill very fast.

One of her best friends, Marcus, decided to check up on her one day through face-time. "Hey sis! How have you been?! Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hey..." Liv answered. "I'm not doing all that great to be honest."

"Yeah I figured that. That's why I reached out to you," Marcus stated. "I'm worried about you. It seems like you barely leave the house. Everytime myself or anyone else tries to make plans with you, you either cancel last minute or come up with some bogus excuse as to why you can't come out."

Liv had to laugh because everything he said was true. "So I'm guessing you didn't believe the story about my pet rabbit dying."

Marcus cackled. "GIRL. I've known you for years and not once have you ever had a pet rabbit. Stop playing."

"Okay let me tell you what's really going on with me," Liv began, "So a few months ago I found this 'spiritual practice' called Non Dualism, and the premise of it is you need to 'let go of ego' in order to realize your true nature as God, or Awareness, whatever you want to call it. Also you get to experience whatever you want."

"So this is the reason why you've stopped enjoying your usual hobbies, and why you've stopped having a social life?" Marcus inquired. "I'm going to be honest here. As your friend, I feel like I owe it to you to tell you the Truth even if it isn't what you want to hear. I don't think that this 'practice' has helped you one bit. Either you have misinterpreted the message, or these people are spreading misinformation. Never at any point should you sacrifice your mental health for the sake of 'becoming enlightened.'"

"I don't know what else to do," Liv started to cry a little. "I just want to become a different person living a life full of happiness, one without trauma and constant reminders of my horrible past. I hate being this broken person!"

"It's okay hun, I totally understand," Marcus consoled her. "I can help you. You remember my family guru right? She hates being called that, but I don't know how else to refer to her. Her name is Sage. My family has gone to her for spiritual advice and healing for years."

"Yes, I remember her! Didn't she help your mom heal her lower back pain?" Liv asked excitedly.

"She sure did. I can give you her number if you want!"

After Liv ended her face-time call with Marcus, he gave her Sage's number. She immediately reached out to her to schedule a day where they can meet up.

- -

One day, Liv arrived at a beautiful park to discover Sage already sitting on one of the benches waiting. "Hi! I don't know if you remember me, I'm Marcus' friend Liv."

"Yes! Hi Liv, it's nice to see you again," Sage reached out and gave Liv a warm hug. "Now what can I help you with?"

Liv sat down next to Sage. "Well, I discovered Non dualism a few months ago, and I'm not sure if I misunderstood the message or not, but I thought you had to let go of ego in order to realize your true nature as awareness. And after you realize this, you can experience whatever you want. So long story short, I stopped enjoying life because I thought I had to do that in order to be enlightened."

Sage hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "Think about it this way.. if it's true that our true nature is awareness, or God, whatever label you put on it, why would you have to go through these unnecessary steps in order to 'become' it? If that's what you already are in the first place?"

Liv opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Maybe Sage had a point.

"Here are my thoughts. If anyone is telling you to 'drop the ego', it's bullshit," Sage chuckled. "The point of Non Dualism is realizing that you were always awareness. You were always the awareness behind everything that seems to appear. The ever-stretching, limitless silence that can take on the form of anything. The ego is just a thought. The idea that you are not already fully realized is also just a thought. In reality, there's no ego or person here to let go of. No person here who needs to become 'fully realized.' Just drop the idea that you are a limited human that has to become something, and you'll be golden."

Liv's jaw dropped to the ground. "You're telling me it was THAT SIMPLE THIS ENTIRE TIME?"

Sage laughed heartily. "Yes it is. Why do you think it took masters like Lester or Sri Nisgardatta months or YEARS to 'realize Self?' because they spent so much time trying to get rid of an ego that doesn't exist!"

Liv let out a sigh of relief. "So there really is nothing to do. I can't believe I exerted all that effort for nothing. I do have one more question, how can I experience whatever I want knowing I'm awareness? I want to be a completely different person with a different past."

"The person you think you are now, and the one you want to be are both illusions. You, as awareness, can 'choose' either one like a costume. Everytime you think about this ideal version of you, you've already experienced it," Sage grinned.

Suddenly a wave of emotions flooded through Liv, a mixture of relief and happiness. She felt the urge to give Sage a tight hug. "Thank you so much for helping me today."

"You're so welcome, sweetie."

Good for Liv, she has finally accepted her omnipotence and freedom to experience anything!

[landhoe-norris]

The thing with Lando, that I don’t understand, is how everything he says or does is constantly blown out of proportion and twisted to make it seem worse than it is. He’s not the only driver who acts in the heat of the moment, yet he’s one of the few who gets crucified for it every single time.

Remember back in Monaco in ‘21 or ‘22 (I really can’t remember), when he lapped Ricciardo, his own teammate, and gave him a small wave—a gesture that clearly meant “thank you for letting me by without any trouble.” Instead of seeing it for what it was, people completely misinterpreted it. Lando was accused of mocking Ricciardo, called a snake and a bad teammate, and even received death threats. Over a wave. A moment of acknowledgment somehow turned into a crime.

What’s frustrating is how this treatment isn’t consistent across the board. Compare this to Liam Lawson flipping Checo off in a race recently—a far more direct and provocative gesture. Fans laughed it off, called him a “legend,” and moved on. But when Lando does something as harmless as a wave, it’s analyzed to death, criticized, and turned into an excuse to attack his character.

It feels like no matter what Lando does, people are ready to twist it into something negative. If he’s honest in interviews, he’s labeled “arrogant.” If he jokes around, he’s “disrespectful.” And if he’s frustrated after a bad day, he’s “entitled.” It’s as if he’s never allowed to just be himself without someone jumping to the worst possible conclusion about his intentions.

Lando isn’t perfect—no driver is. But the way he’s singled out for things that others are praised for is exhausting to watch. It’s like people are waiting for him to slip up, ready to drag him down at any moment. He doesn’t deserve that. None of them do.

Maybe it’s because he’s always been open and honest, which makes him an easy target for people who want to twist his words or actions. Or maybe it’s because he’s popular, and people are quicker to tear down someone they see as successful. Whatever the reason, it’s unfair and unwarranted. Lando’s been a consistently strong driver and a decent person who doesn’t deserve the constant backlash he gets.

I don’t know what has to change for this to stop - actually I know exactly what has to change for this to stop. People need to change. Media needs to change, and social media needs to change.

People need to stop holding him to a higher standard than their favourite drivers while simultaneously wishing for him to fail. It’s hypocritical to demand perfection from him while cheering on others for behavior that is often far more controversial. The medid need to stop running with narratives that Lando has never given them. Time and again, stories have been spun to paint him as arrogant or disrespectful, feeding into the toxicity that surrounds him. And social media needs to stop amplifying this negativity. Platforms that could foster meaningful conversations instead magnify toxic behavior, allowing hate and unfair criticism to spread unchecked. Clips are taken out of context, moments are exaggerated, and echo chambers of hate are created. Lando, like every driver, is human—he’s allowed to have moments of frustration, humor, or honesty without being vilified for them.

Lando has shown time and again that he’s a talented driver and a genuine person. He's shown time and time again why he's on the grid, and that he is one of the fastest there is, and that he genuinely deserves to take up space in F1. He's growing as a driver from year to year and he’s only going to get better. It’s time people recognized his growth, talent, and hard work instead of tearing him down at every opportunity.

Lando is McLaren, and he is F1, just as much as Leclerc is Ferrari and Verstappen is Red Bull.