#“my blood is on your hands but I will not have yours on mine’ ???”< im going to fucking.lose my mind here. who let you say this

[sloaneispunk]

“too sweet for me”

frontman!in-ho x you

when in-ho developed feelings for you in the games, he realised how much older he was compared to you. but age is just a number…right?

๑⋅⋯ ──── ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ──── ⋯⋅๑

after the first games, reality set in. you sat on your bed, trying to scrub the blood off your hands and face. you were practically clawing at your arms, but the blood wouldn’t come off. then, you were approached by a man. ‘player 001’ it said on the jacket.

“you’re hurting yourself like that.” the man said to you, kneeling down by your bed.

“i’m fine.” you gave him a weak smile as you stopped.

“come, let me help.” he took your hand, taking the sleeve of his jacket, gently rubbing the dry blood off of your arm as you watched.

“thank you.” you whispered.

“you’re welcome.” he looked up and smiled. “you have some here…” in-ho licked his thumb, hesitating as if he was asking for permission, when you nodded, he cleaned your cheek.

when he was done, you thanked him once more.

“what’s your name? you look awfully young.” he commented.

“y/n…” you said shyly, making his heart swell.

“i’m young-il, it was nice to meet you.” he said before he got up, but you grabbed his arm.

“wait, i uh, c-can you stay?”

in-ho looked down at you, why would you want him to stay?

“i shouldn’t, i-” then, he heard a group of rowdy boys on the other side of the room, the leader with purple hair picking on a weaker girl. “on second thought, i think i should.”

in-ho stayed with you until lights out, keeping an eye out for thanos’ group and making sure that you were safe from them.

how old were you? definitely much younger than he was, but you were so sweet, so innocent. he loved it.

the next day, in-ho hadn’t slept. he had been too caught up watching you sleep, admiring as every hair fell in place, your chest heaving with every breath you took. he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t approached you with a motive. he knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from going to the bathroom when everyone was asleep to jerk himself off to the thought of you.

“y/n, come, have mine. you need to eat more.” in-ho said sternly, passing you his packet of milk as he ate his breakfast with you.

“why? you should have it.” you rejected him, tossing it back to him.

“you need it more than me.”

“i’m not a kid, young-il.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him causing him to chuckle.

you weren’t. so why did he have the urge to protect you?

then, he heard the voice of gi-hun, he turned around. there his real target was. in-ho brought you along as he made his way to the group, approaching them with a friendly smile.

easily, they welcomed you both with open arms, just like how in-ho knew they would.

“so why did you pick ‘o’?” jung-bae asked, mouth stuffed full.

“oh, i just need more money to pay off my debt…” in-ho started. “… i had a wife and kid but i lost them because of my gambling habits.”

the whole atmosphere of the group fell, everyone didn’t know what to say.

you somehow felt guilty. this man was old enough to be your dad, why were you attracted to him? besides he already has a family outside this place. your heart sank, making you look down at your food as the others continued to talk.

“what about you?” you heared in-ho ask, making your head shoot up. “i’m sure your parents must be worried, why do you want to keep playing?” he pointed to the ‘o’ on your jacket.

“it’s just me.” you replied solemnly, “i don’t really have anyone waiting for me.”

you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring into your soul as you immediately regretted revealing that part of yourself. you mentally slapped yourself, you were being too vulnerable too quickly.

“hey, it’s okay. when we get out of here, we’ll all continue being friends!” jung-bae nudged your arm, making you smile.

“yeah! we’ll all go eat a feast when we get out!” dae-ho agreed.

in-ho didn’t like that idea, and his face didn’t even try to hide it. he didn’t like that you would hang out with anyone other than him.

‘players please proceed to the next game’

you were terrified. after knowing the stakes at hand, you knew it was suicide continuing, but you didn’t have any other choice. in-ho noticed you stiffen, he gave your arm a squeeze, letting you know that he was still there.

when you reached the second game, you learnt that it was going to be played in groups of five. luckily for everyone, your team already had five members.

you took your seats in a line on the floor, awaiting instructions. in-ho sat in front of you, still ensuring that you were sat close to him as the game commenced.

the first two teams took their places at the start line, both eager to win the games. but it was harder than anyone had thought. eventually, neither was able to complete all stations in time. you watched as they were being taken out by the guards, shot down with no remorse.

you instinctively grabbed onto in-ho as you gasped at the gnarly sight in front of you. if you didn’t get your head in the game, that would be you soon enough.

“what are you thinking about?” in-ho questioned when you had failed to answer him, lost deep in your thoughts.

“i’m scared, young-il.”

“nothing will happen to you, i promise.” he replied, ruffling your hair. “stay strong for me.”

you nodded.

when it was your turn, you could feel your legs shaking with every step you took. in-ho was the first to link your arms with his, giving you a subtle smile to calm your nerves.

as the game started, the team made their way to the first station. dae-ho picked up the ddakji, throwing it once, hard onto the ground. by some miracle, the blue envelope had flipped and everyone cheered.

at the second game, jung-bae took the stone from the guard. you shifted closer to in-ho, giving him space to aim. in-ho took the opportunity, pulling you close against him, you were everything at that moment. he could feel the warmth radiating off you, your smell filling his nostrils, making his head dizzy. he barely noticed when everyone cheered once more ehen the stone had been easily knocked down.

then, it was your turn.

“breathe.” in-ho whispered in your ear when he noticed how shaky your hands were.

to his surprise, you had managed to pass within a single try. he cheered you on louder than anyone in the team, moving on the the next game.

even as he spun the spinning top, your arm never left his. maybe it was a good luck charm, because he too was able to spin it on his first try. part of his was relieved because he didn’t embarrass himself in front of you but another was disappointed. in-ho had planned this moment out for so long, he would fail multiple times to keep gi-hun on edge. it was funny how just by having you there he had screwed up his whole plan, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it.

naturally, gi-hun had also made it without having any redo’s. everyone was estatic as they were being led out of the game room, but in-ho was off.

then, he felt a small hand on his shoulder causing him to turn around only to be met with your face.

“are you okay?” you asked as you caught up with him. “we did it, why do you look so down?”

“just surprised i guess.” he said, trying to brush it off.

walking back into the room, you were approached by thanos and his team.

“you goons made it back, huh?” thanos jeered, arms crossed as he looked you up and down.

that didn’t go unnoticed by in-ho. he slapped the boy across the face, shocking him as he gasped dramatically.

“look at me when you’re talking to me.” in-ho spat.

“who are you? is this your boyfriend, girl? isn’t he a bit too old?” thanos laughed. but in-ho didn’t take it lightly, punching him, causing him to fall to the ground as his nose started to bleed.

“young-il, that’s enough.” you stopped him before he could take it further.

with one last look of disgust, in-ho walked off, leaving the boy on the floor.

in-ho might not have realised it but that comment took a toll on him. it made him realise how true his words really were. he was in his 50s and you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right for him to feel how he felt towards you.

“young-il, what happened-”

“go away, y/n. i don’t even know why you care so much.” he raised his voice, pulling his arm away before you could touch him.

you were dumbfounded, taking a step back as your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill.

did that come out too harsh? he hadn’t mean to snap at you, he was just so caught up in everything.

you simply nodded, heading back to the team as he stood there alone, regret overwhelming him as he cursed under his breath.

that night, he couldn’t sleep. how could he? he tossed and turned in his bed, trying to erase your pitiful face from his mind. eventually, he got up, walking towards your bed, but you were gone.

he started to panick, rushing towards the guards, pushing pass them to leave the room. as he practically ran pass the bathroom, he heard soft cries. shit.

he barged in, “y/n? are you here?” you didn’t reply.

he went to the only closed stall and gently knocked, making sure that he didn’t scare you. “y/n, open the door. it’s me.”

“go away.” he heard your muffled voice.

he really did mess up.

“honey, open the door, let me in.” he pleaded.

after a few moments, he heard a click. then, he saw you, sitting on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, your eyes and lips puffy from crying.

“oh, darling.” he cooed, kneeling down, just like how he did when you had first met. “why are you crying?”

you didn’t reply, only gazing up at him with sadness in your eyes. he didn’t need you to tell him what was wrong, he knew.

he sat down, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his chest as he held you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it.” he murmured into your hair. “please don’t cry.”

his heart broke all over again with every tear that fell. he had hurt the only person that didn’t deserve any pain in this place.

what was he going to do? he had never felt this kind of weakness before, he almost felt vulnerable with you. you needed him and he needed you too.

[yeonmuse]

— Bloodlust 18+

IN WHICH, Heeseung absolutely hates knowing that Sunghoon and Jake got to have you in ways he’s been thinking about since the day the two of you met. Its gotten him to a point where he can no longer hold himself back or resist his urges.

( pairing) - vampire!Heeseung x f!r 1.8kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of blood/sexual themes/possesive heeseung [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time

**Jake and Sunghoons parts can be found in my library **

As you made your way down the stairs you could hear four voices speak from the corridor. Those voices belong to none other than Jake, Jay, Heeseung, and Sunoo who seemed to be having a heated discussion. As your eyes set on Jake, heat flushed to your cheeks at the dream you had of him last night, or at least you thought it to be a dream. As his eyes locked with yours a smirk decorated his lips and this didn’t go unnoticed by a certain black haired vampire that watched as your figure disappeared from the corridor and out to the garden fountain out back. As you had been lost in your thoughts, recollecting memories of what had occurred last night you were immediately pulled from them as you heard his voice behind you.

“So Jake got to you first? A little upsetting.” His words had made you freeze up in his spot, how had he even known about Jake?

“Well was it fun..did you like it?’’ he asked menacingly, walking circles around you as you stood confused at his words.

“Did you like it…Hm? The way he touched you while your pretty blood spilled onto his lips.’’ His words made your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and the memories to once again flood your mind.

“I-” you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a word nor lie about it because somehow they always knew what you were thinking. You did indeed enjoy it, despite wanting to not like it, to not admit that you wanted them touching you. Your body had shown such a different sign. A smirk decorated his lips as he took your silence and your impure thoughts as an answer to his question. His hand immediately met your waist and his nose traced over your neck. To him your blood smelled so sweet and it seemed to be evident why Jungwon found it hard to control himself.

He licked a slit up your neck and this earned a soft cry from you. Now that you were fully awake and aware of what had been occurring it made it all the more pathetic that you were once again falling into one of their clutches so easily. He liked that you couldn’t resist, he liked that you couldn't get yourself to move away from him.

“Is it this easy? All I have to do is fuck you for you to give me what is rightfully mine? Well you sit pretty then and i’ll treat you far better than Jake did last night.” his hand met your neck and he held a tight grip as his fangs grazed your ear.

“My room tonight, if you aren’t there then i’ll find you in your own chambers and i’ll keep you up the entire night draining the blood from your pretty body.” Once he let go and left you alone you found yourself releasing a breath you didn’t even know you had held in.

Later that night you found yourself hovering in front of his door like a coward. Though part of you was frightened at what he would do to you if you didn’t obey, there was another half of you that found excitement in his words. Yes they were vampires and that scared you but they were also handsome men that made your thoughts absolutely impure. No matter how scared Heeseung made you, his heir of authority made your knees weak whenever he spoke to you. You weren't sure if that made you a whore but in the moment you didn’t exactly care.

“Will you stand outside the door or will you be a good girl and come inside?’’ his voice sent chills down your spine as you realized he had sensed your presence on the opposite side of the door. You pushed the door open and entered the room silently before closing it and locking it behind you as told.

“You’re such an obedient little girl.’’ he chuckles and pushes himself up from the bed before walking circles around you. Without even having warned you he lifted you up by your thighs and sat you upon a nightstand next to the mirror. He placed himself between your thighs and rested his face in your neck. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you waited for him to make a move on you. Suddenly there was a change in his ruby colored eyes as he took a palm full of your hair into his hand and yanked your head back.

“Do you know how much of a hassle you've been doll? You’ve made things so difficult since that first day then Sunghoon introduced all of us, and to let Jake touch you too? I'll erase any remnants of their touch from your beautiful body, so be good for me yeah?’’ with those words he dug his fangs into the exact spot on your neck where Jake had all while ripping your clothes from your body. You immediately grew embarrassed as your entire body was now exposed but before you could even reach down to cover yourself he grabbed your wrist.

“Try that again and i'll wake up the entire house and suck you dry right in front of them.’’ a whine spilled from your lips at his words and rather than fear his threat only sparked an ache between your thighs. his bloodstained lips then moved down to your wrists where Sunghoon had drank from days ago. He seemed to be truly serious about erasing any marks the two of them had left behind. He then moved between your thighs and you gasped as your back leaned against the cold mirror while he worked his way up your legs now aiming to erase the mark that Jake had left upon your thighs. The taste of your blood had him in a trance, he loved the way you tasted on his lips and he wanted to savor it, but most of all he now wanted to replace the feeling of Jake between your thighs, he wanted to leave you with the empty feeling of him and he wouldn't be satisfied until you were begging him to take you. Standing from between your legs he shoved down his pants unable to hold back his urge to have you begging for him.

And so he slid the tip of his cock between your folds and groaned at the sound that spilled from your lips in response. Heeseung Felt like he could conquer the world in this minute. He had you in this moment and you were his. You were so fucking beautiful under him with your legs spread and mouth wide open spilling imperities, your legs coated with the crimson of your purity. You pulled him down to kiss you. Heeseung, although taken aback, wasn't going to stop you. He could feel how eager you were for him to do more and as much as he wanted to tease you further he couldn't even control his own desire to have you. You heard a low growl as he came to a halt. Your back relaxed against the mirror and you looked up at him who was now hovering over you, his lips stained by your blood.

Carrying you over to his bed he took a seat before plopping you down onto his lap. You were dripping wet making it easy for him to get in your tight frame. He lifts you up only to push you back down right onto his cock. As soon as he felt the clenching of your walls it twitched inside you. Your tightness was so intense to him that he has not given you any time to adjust to his size. He mercilessly thrusted into you and your head fell back as he leans down and his lips attack your breasts. His fangs grazing over your nipple every now and then sent chills up your spine. You had nearly forgot what he was despite the fact that the way he had been fucking you was inhumane.

“D-dammit” you breathlessly mumbled.

“Enjoying yourself?” Heeseung moaned into your skin a soft chuckle spilling from his lips from the way you whine for him to move faster. You reached for his hair and pulled his head back so that you could kiss him deeply, a taste like metallic touched your tongue, which you were sure to be your own blood. He moaned into the kiss, his hip movements now becoming more aggressive as he felt the way you tightened around him. Your moans work as a motivator for him to go even deeper. Your gargled cries and pleas were enough to prove to him that he was doing exactly as he wanted to.

“Was it like him with this ? Did he treat your body this well sweetheart?’’ Your lack of response angered him and he dug his nails into your cheeks as he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. For him this was a sight to behold, your mouth hung open as you sat in his lap all pretty and fucked out.

“Answer me angel.’’ his words came out as a low growl as he fucked into you mercilessly making it even harder for you to have responded to him.

“No” you were finally able to choke out amidst the many impure sounds that spilled from your lips. He couldn't help but smirk at your words. Jake may have had you moan his name a time or two but he had you right here all fucked out and moaning for him to use you like a pretty little fucktoy.

“I want you to cum for me sweetheart. Can you do that for me hm pretty angel? ” he once again bit down on your shoulder and groaned as the sweet nectar-like liquid spilled onto his tongue all while your moans filled his room. Your climax was coming and your breathing became erratic. Heeseung sensing it put you onto your back and harshened his thrusts pushing into you harder than before. He teased your nipples as you melted for him and came with you. Both your bodies riding out your highs as one, the sound of your bodies colliding being the only ones to fill the room. As you both came down from your highs he stayed in you twitching at the slightest move you made. He lay over you leaning on his arms and stroked your head.

“Such a good girl, you look so pretty this way all fucked out beneath me.’’ His eyes traced over your body, all fucked out covered in sweat and your own blood that spilled from the wounds his fangs had left upon your body. “If you allow Jake to even attempt at erasing my marks ill fuck you every single day until you and him both get the message.”

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 8 - april 15 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 wordcount: 1501

Of course, you felt bad. Dylan’s most important boarding competition of the year fell during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, but you couldn’t not go. To Monaco. It wasn’t just the race—it was everything. Your whole life. Racing was in your blood, the paddock your second home, the people in it your family. Missing a race weekend wasn’t just unthinkable; it was impossible.

“It’s not this competition, I don’t care about that, it’s everything, not going to Japan, …” 

”Dyl, I’m sorry, you know racing is my life, it has always been part of my life, I can’t give that up.”

“I should be part of your life now too” you looked at him a bit confused. 

‘’You are’’

“I’m so sorry.. I love you and I really thought I could do this, that I didn’t care, not going to Japan, my competitions, all the time apart, but I’m tired of not caring” 

“Dyl..” your voice trembled, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t want to lose you, I liked that you had your own life and I had mine, but I want to share the same life as well, like you and your racing friends. I want that, someone to be at all my competitions and know everyone, I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t…” Dylan continued. And he wasn’t wrong to want to share a life with you—one that didn’t revolve around track schedules, podium celebrations, and flights halfway across the world. You were so happy you had found someone that could deal with that, it wasn’t easy. Turns out, it really isn't, not even for the coolest professional snowboarder. 

At first you didn’t cry. Not because you thought it made you weak, not because the overwhelming emotion wasn’t sadness. You were frustrated—at the situation, at yourself, at the inevitable clash between the life you live and the life Dylan and most other people wanted, this always having been a subject in your life. - Max showed up later that afternoon, letting himself in with the spare key you’d given him. You were still on the couch, staring blankly at the wall when he flopped down beside you.

“I heard,” he interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Dylan texted me. He knows I’d come to check on you whether you wanted me to or not. Are you okay?”

You blinked at him. “Dylan texted you?” your voice breaking.

Max held up his hands. “Just to say you’d broken up. Don’t worry, he didn’t give me a play-by-play. But I figured you might need your twin brother to cheer you up.” 

“I’m fine,” you said while crying, the words feeling hollow even as you said them.

“You don’t look fine,” Max said, his tone softer now. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how to not feel guilty about something that wasn’t your fault.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to wipe some tears away. “It’s just...I don’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. Racing is my life, and I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t give it up. Not for him, not for anyone. But maybe that makes me selfish.”

Max tilted his head, studying you. “You’re not selfish. You’re honest. And honestly? If he couldn’t handle this part of your life, it’s better it ended now than years down the line.”

“It’s not about handling it,” you muttered. “He wanted a life I couldn’t give him. A normal life. And I wanted him to want this one.” It was a deeper problem that had been a problem in previous relationships and friendships, for Max and you the same.

Max gave you a wry smile, as if reading your mind. “Not everyone’s built for the chaos of our world. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong for living it.”

You stared at him, the only person who understood exactly what you meant being there for you, a lump forming in your throat. “It still sucks.” You hugged him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Of course it does.” he said, holding you. - Two days later, you were curled up on the couch in your London apartment, watching a mindless rom-com when there was loud thumping on your door. Max had texted you earlier in the day asking how you were holding up, but you hadn’t expected him to organize a rescue mission.

“You’re coming out with us,” Max declared the moment you opened your apartment door, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lando stood behind him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I’m really not in the mood,” you protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

“Too bad. You’ve been moping for days, and we’re not letting you wallow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lando. “Back me up here.”

Lando’s smile widened. “He’s right. You need a distraction. And we’re excellent distractions.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invasion

You really weren’t in the mood, but you couldn’t say no if Lando had flown over from Monaco for this.  - The bar was crowded and lively, a blur of neon lights and pulsing music. Lando stuck close to your side, his presence steadying amidst the chaos. Max, on the other hand, had already disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting up someone at the bar.

“Drink this,” Lando said, handing you a cocktail with a lopsided grin.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you teased, taking a sip.

“Obviously,” he stated, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music. “It’s called distraction therapy.”

Max reappeared with shots, dragging you both to the dance floor. The alcohol had loosened your nerves, and you found yourself laughing as Max attempted to teach Lando some ridiculous dance moves. Lando’s face lit up with his usual playful grin, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The bar Max had picked was exactly what you needed—loud, lively, and far removed from anything that reminded you of Dylan. 

As the night wore on, the three of you found a rhythm—dancing, drinking, laughing. Max eventually got distracted by a group of girls, leaving you and Lando alone near the edge of the dance floor.

“You’re having fun,” Lando observed, his smile warm as he watched you sway to the music.

“I am,” you admitted, surprised by how true it felt.

“Good.” He stepped closer, his voice low. “And good riddance by the way, we dont like Red Bull anyway” you laughed, rolling your eyes. - By the time you stumbled back into your apartment, you were drunk, feeling happy, and unsteady.

You had put Max in an uber to his apartment, too drunk to stay. Classic, having to rescue him during his rescue mission for you. Leaving Lando to stay with you ‘’He snores too much when he’s drunk and I don’t want to take care of him’’.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, kicking off your shoes and sinking onto the couch.

“Anytime,” Lando replied, dropping onto the seat beside you. His knee brushed against yours, and neither of you moved away.

The silence stretched, charged with something unspoken. You turned to him, your breath catching at the way his gaze lingered on you.

“What?” you asked softly.

He hesitated, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he leaned closer. “You know what.”

You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Lando…”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

But you didn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything you’d been holding back finally broke free. The kiss was hungry, desperate, months of tension unraveling in a heartbeat.

You barely made it to the bedroom, your clothes scattered in a trail behind you. It was messy and impulsive and everything it shouldn’t have been.

WN: Im so sorry guys, took way longer, I was sick :(((((

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden @ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback

[circe69]

simon ghost riley and pr!mal play fuck yeah

cw: unprotected p in v, rough!sex, predator/prey, dubcon-non, primal play obvi (girl run slower c’mon now)

uhhhh, he’s right behind me isn’t he? ~(>_<~)

“i’ll give you three fuckin’ seconds to run.”

shit.

you stumble back on the wet forest floor, leaves crumbling beneath your feet. simon stood 3 steps away from you, and all he wanted was to fuck you into the ground.

but a good hunter likes to play with his food first.

“one,” he starts as your breath comes out in distorted pants. you’re so excited, so scared, the adrenaline mixed with the intense lust is running through your blood like fire.

“two,” he takes a step towards you. you’re terrified but you want to egg him on. you want to make him angry. wanna make him punish you. you slowly peel off your sweatshirt, revealing your skin-tight tank top.

simon’s anger (and his cock) was begging him to take you right there. he smirked and shook his head, he couldn’t believe what a fucking. brat. you. were.

“three.”

you jumped into a sprint, running as fast as you could and lunging through trees. even though you were running faster than you thought was humanly possible, simon’s footsteps were still right on your tail.

he was swift and silent, and it wasn't until you turned a sharp corner to avoid hitting a tree that you felt two large forearms wrap around your middle.

your scream could've been heard from miles away, causing birds to flee from their nests. ghost flung you against the nearest tree stump and held you with one hand clenched onto your stomach as your feet dangled nearly a foot above the ground.

"why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult," he grunted out as he stripped your pants off with one hand.

you were still struggling to breath, "simon, no-"

"too late for no's, bitch."

you squealed as he tossed you onto the ground, a small tear coming from the corner of your eyes as you went slack jawed watching simon remove his shirt. he started laughing at the sight, "heh, just like you. just like you to dish it and not fuckin' take it. do you see this, y/n?" he grabbed you by a fistful of hair and shoved it down so you were eye level with his painfully hard dick. "you see it? this," he slammed a knee between your thighs, shoving it against your clit as you let out a small sob, "is what you did to me."

no matter what sound was coming out of your mouth, your pussy couldn't lie; if simon were to drag a finger through your slit, it would come back dripping.

"'m sorry, simon, sorry, sorr-"

the sound of his pistol cocking interrupted your pleas. he crawled over you and petted the top of your head, smoothing the stray hairs. “aww, you’re sorry? how sweet,” you felt the head of his gun hit your hip.

“pull my fucking cock out of my pants and if you take your eyes off ‘a mine, you’re dead.”

you scramble, with fat tears streaming out your eyes and down your jaw, as you unzip his cargo pants and pull out his hard length. you never looked away, and scary enough, neither did he.

only when you wrapped your palm around the base of him did he drop is head into the crook of your neck and groan, “fuck,” he whispered, before leaving an open-mouthed kiss under your jaw.

“you going soft on me?” you said quietly.

“if i was going soft, this pussy,” he shoved two fingers inside of you with no warning, and all you could hear was an embarrassingly loud squelch, proving just how much you wanted this, wanted him. “would sound a lot different.”

“no matter how sweet you are,” simon removed his fingers and replaced it with the head of his dick, forcing a gasp out of you,” n’matter how sick you think i am, you like being prey, you like being caught and gutted from the inside out, isn’ that right baby?”

there was no denying it, and even if you did, your pussy would suggest otherwise.

simon riley was right.

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

[tumble-tv]

Going to a protest? Bring first aid.

I don’t mean bandaids and acetaminophen (although those are helpful). I’m talking trauma first aid. I’m talking gunshot wounds and car accidents and stabbings, stuff to keep somebody alive long enough to get to the hospital. Because it happens, and you need to know what to do if and when it does.

You need an IFAK (Individual First Aid Kit) pouch. You can find them easily online, this is my favorite model. No clasps, no buttons, just pull and it’s open. You don’t want something that will take a long time to open or something that has seventeen pockets. Everything needs to be in one place and easily accessible.

Here’s what you need in that pouch:

Tourniquet (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/combat-application-tourniquet-cat-gen-7/) This is how you keep people from bleeding out. Relatively easy to use, there’s plenty of videos online on how to properly use them. When somebody is shot in an arm or leg and is bleeding out, you need to use this or they will die. You can keep this on a limb for about six hours before there’s any risk for amputation, so they’ll be fine. Have one easily accessible on the outside of your pack and another inside your bag. Two is a safe number, but the more the merrier. Don’t cheap out on them, either, you need something that will hold up and do what it needs to the right way. Bright colors are your best friend here, use them. Black may look cooler, but it’s harder to see. Neon orange will always be your friend in the medical field. You can also write a “T” on the person’s forehead to let medical professionals know that they have a tourniquet on.

Trauma Shears (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/north-american-rescue-trauma-shears/) Somebody gets shot in the upper leg? You need to cut their pants off and this is what you’re gonna do it with. No time to waste with taking them off the normal way, get to cutting. Sorry, but their jeans are not top priority at the moment, their life is. I like to get mine in a color that I can easily recognize, like orange or glow in the dark green. Makes it easier to find.

Nitrile Gloves I’m talking medical gloves, the blue ones. You don’t want black because you can’t see blood as easily with that. You want blue or green. Keep multiple pairs (I personally have a handful just shoved in mine), because god forbid you’re working on multiple people, you NEED to be able to change gloves so you don’t cross contaminate their blood with each other. That can lead to so many problems. This protects both you and them from any contagions on your skin or in their blood. You can honestly get these at any store, but please get them allergen friendly (latex free). Keep them in their own little baggie to prevent contamination.

Sharpie When you apply a tourniquet, there’s a little white piece. You need to write the time you applied the tourniquet on that little strip. Worst comes to worst, if you forget your sharpie you can use blood to write on the person.

Compressed Packing Gauze (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/nar-responder-compressed-gauze/) If somebody has a deep wound like a gunshot wound where you can’t use a tourniquet (chest, back, stomach, etc), you need to use this. Find where the blood is coming from and shove it in there. You can get hemostatic packing gauze with a clotting agent, but it can be a bit expensive. Apply pressure, it’s a game changer. Also, if you’re using a clotting agent, keep the package to show to the medical professionals.

Compression Bandage (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/israeli-t3-bandage-4/) Also known as an Israeli bandage (I know, that’s just what it’s called and referred to). It ahs some plastic on it so you can wrap it around and twist the plastic piece to apply as much pressure as possible. Theta aren’t overly common, but they’re good to have. Perfect for slowing bleeding or securing a bunch of gauze you packed into a wound that you don’t want to move.

Nasopharyngeal Airways (NPAs) (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/rescue-essentials-naso-airway-kit/) Basically a tube you slide down somebody’s nose to keep their airway open. Best for if somebody has significant trauma to the jaw or mouth. Always use the lubricant!!! If you don’t, this becomes so much harder to do and so much more painful.

Vented Chest Seal (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/hyfin-vent-compact-chest-seal-twin-pack/) For a penetrating wound to the chest like a bullet, use these. One for the entry wound, one for the exit wound. These let trapped air to escape, but don't let air come in.

Space Blanket (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/nar-survival-blanket/) You know those funky silver blankets that look like tinfoil? That’s it. When somebody goes into shock, their body temperature will drop significantly. They can literally go hypothermic in ninety degree weather.

Rat’s Tourniquet (https://www.rapidtq.com/collections/tourniquets-1/products/r-a-t-s-tourniquet) Sometimes a regular tourniquet is too bulky. Maybe somebody is super skinny or it’s a kid or an animal, this will stop blood flow when a regular tourniquet won’t. They’re a little harder to figure out, but they’re worth it.

Other Helpful Stuff

Bandaids

Regular old sterile gauze

Alcohol pads

Neosporin

Sealed water bottles for washing out wounds if need be

Medical tape

Rolls of sterile gauze

Antiseptic

Tweezers (DO NOT GO DIGGING AROUND FOR BULLETS THIS IS FOR NASTY SPLINTERS)

Penlight

Glucose gel for all of our hypoglycemic friends

Blood glucose monitor to test if need be

Pulse oximeter

Shit ton of eye drops for tear gas, because that stuff hurts

Superglue

Masks

Hand sanitizer

Rubbing alcohol (Can be substituted with drinking alcohol if need be. Find the highest ABV you can, vodka and whiskey are your best choices here.)

Hydrogen peroxide

Electrolyte packets/chews

Bandanas

Eye protection, like goggles

Something to make a splint with. You can use an actual splint (https://www.rescue-essentials.com/sam-splint-original-36/) or any long rod or stick, really.

Duct tape

Multi tool and/or pocket knife

If you’re going to be That Guy in full tactical gear, make sure people know which side you’re on with patches. Pride flags, ACAB patches, whatever it is, put them everywhere. Make sure the people around you know which team you play for.

Buy multiples of everything. Make sure you practice and know what you’re doing. Have a bigger bag than that pouch I linked above? Great! Shove more stuff in there, the more the merrier.

Take a Stop The Bleed course, that makes everything easier and you’ll be better at what you’re doing. They’ll teach you how to pack a wound, you’ll stick your fingers in a fake leg and learn to do it. Also take a CPR course and get certified. I believe they teach you how to use an NPA, but I’m not entirely sure since I took one for my EMT certification and was taught to use NPAs, but I know that EMT certification for CPR is different from civilian certification in some way.

I did not include CPR materials for a reason. If somebody is passed out from massive blood loss, they won’t wake up with CPR. If there’s no blood for the heart to pump, then CPR won’t do anything. If someone isn’t breathing and this is a mass casualty event like what this bag is packed for, leave them. I hate to say it, but you need to leave them. There is no way you are going to get this person breathing again in time for you both to get out alive if you’re being shot at. If somebody needs CPR, they are classified as “meaningfully dead.” CPR is meant to keep blood moving until first responders arrive, and during protests, they won’t. You’re free to bring CPR materials, I won’t stop you, but be aware of that.

Tampons are a good emergency alternative to packing gauze if need be. You’ll probably need a lot of them, but they’ll work in a pinch (and will be awesome if somebody needs one for their normal purpose).

If you have anything to add, please do. Any information helps.

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Fourteen

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice

The office was a comforting quiet, the noises of my keyboard clicking, soft music playing from Bucky’s office, and me humming along to that said music. It was Friday, which meant the end of the week and a nice relaxing weekend in the sightline ahead. I didn’t have much planned, maybe seeing if Bucky would come by for a late night rendezvous but as he mentioned to me countless times, the weekends are harder for him to leave Natasha because she always had something planned for them. 

The jealousy nibbled away at my heart, picturing the two of them getting to do all of these sweet, romantic things out in the open while I was hidden in the darkness, almost forgotten. 

It’s what you signed up for. 

Shaking the thought from my mind, I forced myself to focus on my work. 

“Where the fuck is he?!”

I glanced over the top of my computer screen and saw a very angry Clint Barton barging his way into the building, making a straight line towards Bucky’s office. 

Bucky was on the phone, unable to deal with Clint, so I quickly stood and shut his door. 

“He’s busy,” I told Clint, blocking his path from Bucky. 

“This doesn’t concern you,” Clint stated. 

He tried to walk around me but I was a tad bit faster, blocking his path again. 

“You can come back when Bucky has time to see you. Make an appointment.” 

Clint’s jaw clenched. “Barnes didn’t have an appointment when he barged into my house last night to drag Natasha away.” 

I swallowed. “Well, it must have been for a good reason if he dragged his wife away.” 

“Do you know how disrespected I felt, having him come into my home, in front of everyone I had there, to drag out his wife? He’s so jealous that he refuses to let her have a friendship with me.” 

I ignored the pain I felt and shook my head. “It doesn’t sound like Bucky.” 

Clint chuckled darkly. “You don’t know him well enough then. Now, move out of my way.” 

“Can’t let you in there,” I backed up against the door.

The anger radiated off of him now and he gripped me elbow tight, undoubtedly leaving marks, and practically dragged me away from the door. I ripped my arm out of his grasp and swung my fist into his cheek, knocking him away from me as he stumbled back over his feet. 

“Keep your fucking hands off of me!” I seethed. 

Clint pulled his hand away from his lips, blood dripping from it onto the ground. Darkness clouded his iris’ and as he advanced towards me, Bucky stepped out of his office and leaned against the frame of the door, arms over his chest. The amusement on his face didn’t go unnoticed by me. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here and putting your hands on her, Barton.” 

Clint scoffed while wiping the blood from his lip with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve pissed off the wrong guy, Y/N.” 

“Oh, fuck you Barton. I’m not worried about you,” I spoke. 

Bucky nodded towards the door of the building, telling him to leave before it got worse and reluctantly, Clint walked out while licking his wounds. 

“Asshole,” I grumbled while looking at Bucky. 

He was already watching me and slowly licked his lips, desire pooling in his eyes. 

My panties soaked with my own desire at the look he was giving me. “What?” 

“That was fucking hot,” he moaned. 

Our naked bodies lay tangled together in a heap on the couch in his office, both coming down from our shared high. Bucky’s vibranium fingers dragged up and down my back while I pressed my cheek deeper into his bare chest, my own fingers ghosting over the scars on his shoulder, leaving a kiss there every so often. 

“Bucky?” 

He hummed, eyes closed from the pure bliss he felt. 

I linked my hand with his vibranium one. “I’ve noticed you never wear a wedding ring.” 

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve never been big on jewelry.” 

With a nod, I snuggled closer into his embrace and allowed myself to enjoy the last few minutes of quiet solace before Steve or Sam came to work and caught us. It was risky being together at work but yet Bucky and I continued to fall into one another when we were alone here. 

Figuratively and literally. 

Suddenly, Bucky’s phone began to ring quite loud, eviscerating our solace together and with a sad sigh, I pulled myself away from him. He reached down to the floor and dug out the phone from his discarded pants. 

His eyes jumped from the phone to me, a frown pulling at his lips. He didn’t need to say who was calling, it was evident in the way he stood and walked to the other end of his office. 

I marveled at the way his back muscles twitched with every movement, as he stood with his backside towards me, naked, baring his entire self to me. My bottom lips caught between my teeth as I fought the urge to go up to him, wrap my arms around him, and kiss his entire back. 

“Hi, Nat….wait, slow down. What are you saying?......Yeah, he did show up about an hour ago, upset about last night….You can’t get upset with me, you knew what you were walking into last night when you went to Clint’s house. I’m glad I got there in time. I don’t care that the two of you are good friends, he put everyone there in danger. Including you.” 

I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened last night that Bucky had to drag Natasha out of Clint’s house. 

“I'm not going to fire her, Nat. Barton put his hands on her first. she was defending herself…..Of course I'm defending her actions because she did what anyone should do….. You're being ridiculous, she works for me.”

Bucky never said my name, he didn’t have too. I knew they were talking about me. 

He turned to face me with guilty eyes and breathed deep. “Nat, there's nothing between us. I would be doing the same thing if it happened to Steve or Sam….Yeah, we can have a date tonight, just me and you…Of course sweetheart.” 

I could hear Natasha’s voice rambling on about something but it was white noise to Bucky as his eyes raked over my bare body while I lounged on the couch, legs spread wide for him. It wasn’t my intention to distract him from his call, this was the only way my body would fit on the small couch. 

Bucky’s pupils were blown wide with lust, the blueness of them a thing of the past, as he chewed roughly on his bottom lip. 

“I have to go, I’ll call you when I leave the office.” 

He didn’t bother to wait for her to say goodbye, him ending the call and placing his phone on his desk, making sure to silence it this time. 

“You’re such a fucking tease, doll.” 

I didn’t have a chance to explain myself before Bucky was on top of me once again, the tip of his cock pressed at my entrance. 

A small grimace crossed my features as I did my best to gather up my things, ready to go home for the weekend. My knees were weak and the bruise forming on my ass from the smacks Bucky pressed with his vibranium hand were causing me a bit of pain as I walked. 

This time in his office was rough, in the most euphoric way. I blamed it on the sheer thought of us getting caught that caused Bucky to act so dominant. 

Not that I complained one bit. 

Vibranium fingers wrapped around my throat while Bucky slammed his hip with vigor behind me, pulling my back close to his chest, flesh fingers digging deep into my hips. 

Absent-mindedly, I rubbed at the small bruises on my hips as the memory of us together kept replaying in my mind like a movie. 

“Bucky, we’ve got a problem!” 

Steve’s voice boomed throughout the office as he came running out of his office. His eyes landed on mine as Bucky emerged from his own office, curiosity on his face. 

“What’s going on?” He asked. 

Steve didn’t say a word, simply handed his phone to Bucky, who read whatever was on there. The fear that took over Bucky’s expression made my stomach flip. 

“What is it?” I asked, taking the phone from Bucky. 

“Doll, don’t-.” 

He tried to stop me from taking it but I smacked his hands away, eyes scanning over the email that had both Steve and Bucky scared to death. 

Hit for Y/N Y/L/N. Preferably alive but dead works too. Half a mil. 

C.B. 

All of the blood drained from my body, it began to tremble with fear. I stood frozen, unsure of what to say or even do. 

“Clint put a hit out on me,” the words forming but faltering just the same. 

Bucky punched the wall behind me with his vibranium hand but the noise did nothing to deter my current state. 

“Motherfucker,” Bucky cursed. “He’s dead.” 

Sweat gathered at my forehead, the thoughts of some random people trying to either kidnap me or worse taking over my mind. 

“What are we going to do?” I asked, looking between the two men. 

“I’m going to stay with you tonight, make sure you’re safe, until we can think of a plan,” Bucky said. 

I nodded. “Wait, aren’t Natasha and Clint friends?” 

There was a flash of something unreadable in Bucky’s eyes. “There’s no way she knew about this. She wants nothing to do with the mob part of my life.”

Even with his own words, Bucky couldn’t believe it one hundred percent. 

“I think we should keep this between us, as far as Clint goes, he has no idea that I know about this. One of my informants forwarded this email to me,” Steve said. 

Bucky nodded, the idea of keeping a secret from his wife becoming easier to him. 

Then the front door to the building opened causing both Steve and Bucky to put me behind them, ready to fight whoever stepped inside. 

“Woah, jumpy aren't we?” Natasha chuckled. 

The three of us breathed a bit easier; for now. 

“Nat, what are you doing here?” Bucky asked with a pinched expression. 

Her face faltered. “Our date. You promised.” 

Bucky’s shoulders dropped. “Right. Well, something came-.” 

“Nope,” I interrupted him. “His schedule for the night cleared up.”

We needed to make sure that Natasha had no idea about Clint and the best way to do that was to keep up the same appearances before, even if that meant Bucky wouldn't be with me tonight. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she had to know something and the only one of us that could possibly find that out was him.

His eyes sliced into me. “I thought that-.” 

I shook my head, stopping him. “Steve can come with me. It’ll be a fast errand, won’t take up most of his night. Right?” 

Steve quickly picked up on what I actually meant and nodded towards Bucky. “I’ll make sure nothing happens.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched with spite but eventually nodded in agreement. 

“Perfect, let's go!” Natasha linked her arm through Bucky’s in hopes to urge him along. 

“I’ll check in later, alright?” Bucky said while being pulled from the building, gone from my line of sight.

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, and I looked up at him with an immense amount of fear. 

“I’m scared, Steve,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

He pulled me into his warm embrace, lips ghosting over my hairline. “It’s alright. I’m not leaving your side tonight.”

[deathofacupid]

thinking about heian!sukuna on the day of his execution. "ryomen sukuna, king of curses, for his unforgivable crimes – sentenced to death." ⤷ trigger-warning: insinuated suicide, execution, grapic-ish/gory-ish details .ᐟ

the words rippled through the city, a wave of jubilation crashing against the stone walls of his prison. his reign of terror was over. japan would breathe again.

heian!sukuna had accepted his fate. it was inevitable. in his cell, enchanted shackles bit into his wrists, cold metal against warm skin. he wasn’t afraid. death was a fleeting inconvenience, a doorway he’d walked through countless times. death should fear him.

boredom gnawed at him, a dull ache in his ancient soul. he tapped his clawed fingers against the iron bars, the sound echoing in the cramped space, a counterpoint to the distant cheers.

the stench of rust, stale blood, and something faintly sweet and decaying clung to the air. it didn’t faze heian!sukuna. a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. pathetic.

then, a flicker of movement. a shadow slipped past the guard. you. clad in a black coat, you were a stark contrast to the grime and decay. as you stepped into the dim light, the coat fell soundlessly to the floor, revealing a soft, pink satin kimono. his favorite color on you.

“oh, ‘kuna,” you whimpered, a hand flying to your mouth.

“butterfly,” heian!sukuna greeted, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“don’t laugh,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “it’s not funny. they’re going to kill you. my father…”

the irony had always been a bitter amusement to heian!sukuna. you, the daughter of his sworn enemy, the golden ruler, had fallen for the king of curses. you, who should have embodied purity and light.

and in a way, you did. he saw it in the gentle curve of your smile, the way you treated the downtrodden, the way you looked at him – not with fear, but with a tenderness that disarmed him. you saw a man beneath the monster.

heian!sukuna's smirk faded. your tears were his undoing. even the king of curses couldn’t bear to see you cry. he rose, the chains rattling, and moved to the bars. he longed to reach through, to wipe those tears away, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his rough touch.

“don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended.

“i don’t want to leave you,” you sobbed, pressing your face against the cold metal where his hand rested. “you promised… you promised you’d never go where i couldn’t follow.”

heian!sukuna who's chest tightened. you always knew how to make him feel… human. he leaned his forehead against the bars, as close as he could get. “i know,” he whispered. “i knew this day would come.”

“he’s going to make me watch, ‘kuna. how… how can i watch you die?”

a darkness flickered in his eyes, his jaw clenching. losing his life was nothing. but the thought of you witnessing it…

heian!sukuna who took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “you must be strong,” he said, his voice low and firm. “even when everything is falling apart… you can’t break. do you understand?”

“i don’t think i can live without you,” you whispered, a plea in your voice.

heian!sukuna who closed his eyes for a moment, a rare vulnerability showing on his face. “live for me, butterfly. please,” he murmured, finally.

please, you think. not a word you hear often from him. but you knew your fate. you would rather die, than live in a world without him. "okay," you say, instead.

“good,” he whispered back, a faint smile touching his lips. “that’s my girl.”

“and we’ll meet again?” you asked, your lips brushing against the cold metal where his would be.

a melancholy smile touched heian!sukuna's lips. “of course. i will find you. every lifetime, every world.” he leaned into the phantom touch of your lips. “you are mine, butterfly. forever.”

the guards dragged you away, your cries echoing in the dungeon. he watched you go, a bitter taste in his mouth.

at the executioner’s block, the sunlight glinted on the blade. your father stood on the platform, his face a mask of cold authority. heian!sukuna stood there, waiting.

then, a murmur from a guard. “my lord… it is your daughter.”

heian!sukuna who's eyes widened. his butterfly? he strained against the chains, his heart pounding in his chest.

your father sighed, then, without a glance at sukuna, said, “kill him.”

the blade fell. the crowd roared.

but heian!sukuna was already gone, his spirit untethered, searching. he would find you. he would spill oceans of blood if he had to.

you were heian!sukuna's butterfly. and he would never let you go.

all banner credits to @dollywons .ᐟ

[nom-nommmm1]

BEHIND THE NERD - ETHAN LANDRY

Masterlist + taglist !

Scrap from Halloween bc it felt like a crime to leave this in my drafts :(, first time using a laptop for tumblr and holy moly I loveee it! Also be on the lookout for arcane posts! Use my inbox if you have any ideas on what I should write for scream or arcane

Content Warining!!: slasher!ethan x fem!reader, reader and Ethan are already dating, stalking, obsession, kind of manipulative, hickeys, fingering, fem getting eaten out, making out

The sound of chatter rang outside of your window. Your eyes opened as you jolted up, looking out of the window to see your boyfriend Ethan with a smile on his face. What is he doing up? You shyly walked over to the window, embarrassed of him seeing you in your pajamas. “Ethan what are you doing here?” You asked concerned, but all Ethan does is laugh.

“Cmon baby let me innn, please?” He asks with a whine. You were slightly taken aback, Ethan had never been like this before but you let him in. “What’s wrong babe, you’re acting funny” you ask a little more worried this time as Ethan climbs into your room. “Nothing I just missed you” he says, his tall figure being illuminated by the moon, outlining each and every one of his muscles through his shirt.

Ethan makes his way over to you, holding your jaw in place as he kissed you roughly. You gasp, pushing him back a bit by his chest. “Seriously Ethan what’s up?” You ask more seriously this time, making him groan. “Nothing babe I just-“ he stops seeing you look down at his pants, a prominent bulge in them. You blush harshly, seeing Ethan now choking on his words.

“I- I uhm…missed you..” he mumbled, putting his hands in his pockets. You both stand there awkwardly for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again. Ethan’s slightly surprised but doesn’t waste any time, kissing as rough as he was before, putting his hands on your hips pulling you against him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling something cold on the sleeve of his shoulder. You pull away from the kiss opening your eyes to see blood on his shirt.

“Babe- what is-“ he cuts you off. “Don’t worry it’s not mine” he says before pulling you back in with more lust. He pushes you harder against him as he plops you both on the bed, placing you in his lap. You groan, feeling the tent harden in his pants. “Ugh look what you do to me” Ethan says in between kisses. Ethan pulls away to look at you.

“God you’re so perfect..” he says nervously before taking your shirt off. You’re a little surprised but not upset, you’d always wanted to see if Ethan would ever get dirty with you. Ethan groans as he slides your shirt fully off, throwing on the floor next to your bed. He then takes his shirt off before connecting your lips again. You groan as you feel him touch your bare stomach with his hands, caressing you gently.

Ethan huffs, moving his mouth down to your neck and chest, kissing and sucking wherever he could find. You moan, throwing your head back. He reacts to this by licking and long stripe from your chest to your jaw. He quickly unclasps your bra with a gasp, taking in the sight before purposefully bouncing you in his lap.

You moan, feeling his erection in his pants touch your clothed pussy. Your tits perfectly bouncing in Ethan’s face as he bounces you, making him groan. You were just too perfect to him. Ethan practically throws you down onto the bed, you let out a sound of surprise before Ethan gets off the bed, leaning on the edge as he lovingly, but tightly grabs your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

You squirmed in impatience. Ethan moaned at this neediness you were showing. “The more you squirm the longer I make you wait” he said darkly. You whined but tried to stop yourself from moving. “Very good” he cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your stomach giving you chills. Ethan slowly reached out to you, grabbing the waistband of your shorts pulling them down.

He threw the shorts down, bending down as you were now just in your underwear. It is now eerily quiet as Ethan lowers his face to you, feeling his warm breath along your clothed pussy. You whimper excitedly, aching for him to do more.

Ethan smirks, slowly pulling down your underwear, groaning at the sight of you fully bare. “Holy shit…you really are perfect..” he says as he looks at you. Before he can give you time to react to his words he shoves a finger into you, making you almost scream. You look up at him desperately as he just stares, fascinated with you.

He quickly snaps back to reality, putting another finger in you before curling in and out of you. “How interesting..” he mumbles as he quickens his speed. You moan bucking your hips as he keeps speeding up mercilessly. Ethan huffs as he sees your hips go up in the air, loosing every bit of control he has.

His fingers continue to ram into you at an alarming speed. You see Ethan’s arms flexing from all of the force he is putting into you, sending an electric feeling throughout your entire body. Ethan looks at you lovingly as you dig your nails into his back, almost like he’s enjoying how you cope with him doing this to you. “God this is better than the millions of times I thought it was like” he says, leaning into you, his lips slightly ghosting over your ear.

You moan again, finding a release in his words. Ethan whimpers as he pulls his fingers out of you, covered in your juices. He looks down at his glistening fingers for a moment before sucking on them, making eye contact with you. You grunt, watching his tongue gliding over his fingers.

He then ducks down, placing his elbows on the edge of the bed, kissing the soft skin of your legs and upper thighs. You gasp at his kisses, your knuckles gripping at the bedsheets. Ethan smirks, his hands rubbing your legs as he looks up at you. “So beautiful…” he mumbles, taking in the way you look in this very moment.

He continues to stare for a little longer before placing his face right above your entrance. You moan, feeling his warm breath sweeping through your walls. He quickly latched his mouth to your entrance, his tongue slipping up your walls making your hips buck.

He hummed, his lips kissing your soft cunt. His kisses making you weak, desperately moaning as his mouth tastes you. His tongue dances around your bud, having no mercy as he sucks on the sensitive spot. You moan loudly, your senses overcome with pleasure as he continues to use his mouth against you, his hands caressing you ever now and again.

He chuckles, watching the affect his mouth has over you, quickening his speed. You gasp at the sudden change in speed, your hands moving to clutch his hair as you adjust to the more intense levels of pleasure he was bringing you. As he continues you can feel him groaning into you, the vibrations making your breath catch in your throat.

You grip his hair harder as he sucks and licks at your cunt, sending you over the edge once more, the second organism violently pulsing through your body, causing your legs to shake with pleasure. Ethan's face comes back up, covered in cum and other bodily juices, the sight of him making your heart quicken.

He licks his hands thoroughly, making sure to taste all of you before wiping his face as he leans down to kiss you tenderly. "you taste so sweet" he mumbles against your lips making you chuckle slightly. After a few minutes of kissing he climbs on top of you, laying his head on your shoulder as he pulls the covers over both of you, concealing your naked form from the cold.

He lays with you, closing his eyes. "Ethan?" you ask, staring at him. "hm?" he responds, his eyebrows lifting in concern, leaving his eyes closed as he listens to you. "What's up with the blood on you're shirt?" you ask, the question had been lingering in the back of your head since he sunk in.

Ethan groans, his brows furrowing as he speaks, still keeping his eyes closed as he pulls you a bit closer. "some guy at work got hurt, I helped him, he's fine end of story" you lean into him, not fully believing him but dropping the topic for now and falling asleep in your boyfriends arms, he'd never hurt anyone.

Taglist:

╰┈➤@mxqlss @bkaulitzz @adellaonly

[rainroses45]

What’s in your burger? pt2

☠︎︎description: so Dean decides to take a chance on you…so he takes you to Bobby’s but will they believe your story? (Dean Winchester x Ghoul Fem! Reader)

☠︎︎a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED THIS REQUEST and hopefully you enjoyed this part two (NOT EDITED)

☠︎︎song inspo: Cannibal-Kesha

☠︎︎warnings: umm dead ghouls and i think that’s it

Pt1

The Impala rolled into Bobby's salvage yard just as the last rays of sunlight dipped behind the horizon. Dean killed the engine, the rumble dying away, and glanced sideways at you. You hadn’t said a word since the cemetery, but the tension in the car was thicker than molasses.

“You sure about this?” you asked, breaking the silence. Sure, you could have killed the man in seconds, but then who else would help you salt and burn bodies.

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nope. But we’re here, so keep your claws to yourself, alright?”

You snorted, leaning back in your seat. “Relax, Hunter. I don’t eat people I’m forced to carpool with.”

“Comforting,” he muttered, grabbing his shotgun as he climbed out of the car.

You followed, scanning the salvage yard. It smelled like oil, rust, and faint traces of blood—a mix that put you on edge but didn’t scare you. As your boots crunched on the gravel, the sound of a slamming screen door drew your attention.

The one and only Bobby Singer stood on the porch, his shotgun resting on his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on you. Behind him, the youngest Winchester emerged, his tall frame filling the doorway, his expression shifting from cautious curiosity to alarm.

“What the hell did you bring home this time, Dean?” Bobby asked, his voice gruff.

Dean groaned, his shoulders sagging. “Not this again.”

“She’s a ghoul,” Bobby said flatly, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "I'm used to your brother bring home demons and wounded vampires but you?"

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Wow, you’re quick with the quips for an oldie.”

Sam’s eyes darted between you and Dean. “And why is a ghoul here? Better question—why is she alive? I mean aren’t you the whole killing and burying hunter not the ‘i see potential for americas next top model.”

“I mean he ain’t wrong.” You smirked up. “I got the curves to kill another president.” Dean gave you a side eyes, holding back the urge to say, "you're not helping the situation out much."

“She’s not like the others,” Dean said, holding up a hand to stop the inevitable argument or whatever he would call this. “She’s… different.”

Bobby barked out a humorless laugh. “Different, huh? That what you’re calling it now? This ain’t no adopt me pound for puppies boy.”

“Listen,” Dean snapped, stepping forward. “She helped me take down a couple of feral ghouls last night. She’s got information we need. If she wanted to kill me, she had plenty of chances.”

Bobby’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lower his shotgun. “And you believe her?”

Dean hesitated, glancing at you. “I do.”

You smirked, though your gaze remained fixed on Bobby. “If I wanted you dead, old man, you’d already be rotting in that scrapyard of yours.”

Bobby’s shotgun came up an inch, his finger twitching near the trigger. “You’re real bad at making friends, ain’t ya?”

“Not here to make friends,” you replied, your tone clipped. “I’m here because Dean dragged me here. He seems to think I’m worth keeping around.”

Sam stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “Why? What’s so special about you?”

“Well besides this amazing ass of mine I know a thing behind close doors. Ghouls don’t work together,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “Not unless something bigger’s pulling the strings. And trust me, I know my kind. Something’s wrong, and if you want to stop it, you’re going to need me.”

Sam exchanged a wary look with Bobby, who finally lowered his gun—barely. “And why should we trust you?”

“Because I know how to think,” you said. “Not just act. And because I want this mess cleaned up just as much as you do. If something’s organizing ghouls, it’s bad news for everyone, including me.”

Sam frowned, but Bobby spoke first. “So, what’s pulling the strings?”

You hesitated, your jaw tightening as you glanced at Dean. “That’s the part I don’t know yet. But whatever it is, it’s strong. Strong enough to make even feral ghouls work together. And that’s not natural.”

*cue me* ( i guess you would say something supernatural ) *PUDUM PUDM*

Bobby grumbled something under his breath before gesturing toward the house. “Fine. Get inside. But if you so much as twitch the wrong way—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll blow my head off,” you said, waving him off as you followed Dean toward the house.

Sam fell into step beside Dean, his voice low. “You seriously trust her?”

Dean sighed, glancing over his shoulder at you. “I don’t know if I trust her,” he admitted. “But I believe her.”

Inside, the air was thick with tension. Bobby paced the room, his shotgun leaning against the wall, while Sam hovered near the table, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he was waiting for you to snap into a hungry monster.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with an amused expression. “This is cozy,” you drawled. “Really like how the open floor plan allows you to soak up the lighting.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Bobby snapped, moving his decorations from you. Ain’t no one taking his hobby lobby decore from him. Nobody.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, enough. She’s here to help, so let’s all stop measuring our guns and focus on the real problem. Bobby she ain’t going to be taking your fine china from dollar tree so relax.”

Bobby huffed but didn’t argue, only whispering a small “it was from family dollar idjit.” Sam, however, leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “If we’re doing this, I want details. Everything you know.”

You smirked, pushing off the wall. “Fine. But you’d better keep up, Boy Scout because it’s going to be a tongue twister.” And so the madness began.

[ladysunbite]

The darkness spooled from her eyes, the echo of a growl crawled up the walls and the chamber itself held a breath.

"Your death would be my greatest displeasure," Orianna's form shifted and trembled, her voice being the only substantial thing. In a blink of an eye - a blink the brave little witcher never gave - the vampiress grabbed her hand at the wrist and put it against her own chest, at the spot where the beating heart was located. In terms of reason, it was an useless gesture - the maiden could not grow claws and rip the heart out. Usually a very reasonable being, the sun-eyed offered something different, as her very blood sang instead of the heart. Sincerity. Raw sincerity was a strange and heavy drink. The pale body rebuild itself around Ciri's palm, marble-like and unscathed, possesing all the unthreatening qualities of humanity. Gone were the claws and the ancient darkness, the sharp predatory curve of the mouth. Yet the drumming sound remained, opened to her like an open wound or a flower. "Forgive my foolishness, I..." for the first time Orianna's voice cracked in two, like a looking-glass. She pressed her eyes shut, to escape the unfailing gaze of the maiden, such a brave fragile maiden, such as fairy-tales promised for a monster.

"I wish for you despite all logic and caution. I wish for you to become a part of me, to have you as mine and be yours. For a moment that is eternity." still hiding from Cirilla's eyes, Orianna pressed her wrist to her lips and listened to her blood. Tender and trembling she was, as if the confession was like a shed cocoon and all that pressed its lips and its starved lips to Ciri with a new, blind and stumbling force was a newborn creature, a fanciful creation of the moon. Admired, but abandoned too soon. "Stop me, when it will be needed." in the end it was her, who pleaded.

@fallesto

But Ciri, her eyes wide as the moon, knew she had made a grave mistake. "I didn't mean it like that." She said, her hand reaching up to cover Orianna's, still hovering dangerously close to her throat. "I just...wanted to be with you."

Her voice was sincere, the tremble in her hand, genuine. Orianna would be able to feel the pulse beneath her claws, the flutter of the girl's heart like a caged bird. The vampire's eyes could search Ciri's, looking for any sign of deception. But all she found was raw, unbridled yearning.

Ciri looked into her eyes, those pools of darkness that had once been windows to a soul, now a mirror to her own desires. She saw the conflict within Orianna, the warring instincts of predator and lover. It was a battle she had never imagined existed, and she felt a strange kinship with the creature above her. For in her own heart, she too knew the chaos of being both savior and destroyer.

Her hand trembled as it reached for the vampire's, not to push it away, but to pull it closer, to show her that she meant no harm. The claw that could end her life was suddenly a symbol of the power that had brought them together in this moment. "Please," she whispered, her voice thick with need, "Don't misunderstand me."

The conflict in her eyes flickering like candlelight in a storm. Orianna's hand hovered, and she remained still as she studied the vampire's face. The air grew heavier, thick with anticipation and the unspoken tension between them. Ciri's heart hammered in her chest as she waited for a sign, any sign, that the vampire believed her.

Slowly, the hand that had threatened to end her life curled as she did not move nor do anything to stop it, even with the knowledge from both of them that if she wished, she could stop this at any single chance that she wished and there was little to be done about it. "You truly wish for this?" She murmured, the question laced with doubt. Ciri stared, her eyes never leaving the vampire's. "If you try and kill me, I will stop you." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Do not ruin what is happening, don’t find a reason to have doubt." She said, her voice a gentle purr. The witcher felt her pulse race even more, the anticipation of the bite mingling with the fear of what was to come. Yet she didn't pull away. Instead, she stared right at her, when anyone else would have gotten themselves up and fled for there lives, she remained with a small smile on her face and just looked right into her eyes.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

eclipse

Gojo x fem!reader

tw angst, pregnancy mention

This is the end of their story-- the one that will never be told, not really, not as it is, nor as it should be. After all, how can you describe an eclipse to someone who has never seen the sun?

beginning of their story here

ao3 link

“They're calling me, my love. There is a veil over Shibuya, and they're asking for me. I've got to go.”

She's so beautiful, sitting at our kitchen table. She's wearing only a thin black robe, and I can see where her breast swells sweetly against the fabric, covered, but tempting. Beneath the warm incandescent lighting of our dining room, she is resplendent; radiant, she casts no shadow, but surrounding her in a perfect circle on the floor is something darker than any shade. Absence clings to her like a second self, pooling in that moon-like circle, and I know that despite the scion that draws power from her now, she is still so very powerful that even Sukuna, safe as he is in his vessel, should tremble at the thought of us together. 

 When she speaks, she does not look up at me, and I know I am in trouble.  

“Then you must go.”

The tension between us is so thick that it's hard to breathe. She sits still as a statue, staring past her cup of tea. It's lukewarm. In the wake of stone-like silence, it sits, forgotten, and waiting to be emptied. 

She will not ask me not to go. It is against her nature to ask for what she cannot have, to demand that I choose between her and my duty. I'm not sure if that makes it all better or worse. 

“Say something, Satoru.” Her voice is stony and cold. “I cannot bear this silence.”

“I've got to go,” I repeat, as though saying it will make me believe it. “I have to.”

She stands. As she does so, the gentle swell of her stomach moves, stretching the fabric of her robe. She maneuvers gingerly around the table to stand before me, and my arms ache to hold her. 

“Oh, Satoru,” she sighs, cupping my cheek. “You don't need to convince me.”

I had not thought it would be this hard to answer the call when it came. It is the duty of the strong to protect the weak— this I have always known. As a result, being the strongest is kind of a drag. Always rescuing someone, protecting something, sacrificing this, living up to that— a total drag, but there is something worthy in it. Something honorable. 

Never before have worth and honor felt so antithetical to my own desires. 

“I’m not mad,” she says, more to convince herself than to convince me. 

“You could be. There would be a point to that.”

The hollow ache of Suguru resonates in my chest. Like him, I feel it's only fair to give the one I love license to hate me. 

She doesn't. She only shakes her head. 

“I always knew you were never really mine,” she says, and the words wound me. “I only— only ever had you on loan.”

Tears glisten in her eyes, threatening to fall. She does not let them. My stout-hearted love is too proud to let those tears conquer her.

Oh, but they conquer me.

“I am yours,” I lie, placing my hand over her own. “I always have been.”

“You're a terrible liar. Before you were mine, you were Geto Suguru’s— and before that, you were the Gojo clan’s talented heir, the strongest sorcerer in a thousand years.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she covers it with her hand. 

“No, Satoru.” She's firmer now, and as bitter as wormwood. “Don't argue with reason and sense. You must go to Shibuya, so go now. Go, though they bay for your blood. Go, though you will have no one to protect you, no one strong enough to keep pace at your side. Go and do as you must. Fulfill the duty that is demanded of you.”

“But know this, Gojo Satoru. When all is said and all is done, and you have drawn your last breath at the behest of a world that could not protect you, know that I will burn that world.”

I crack a nervy grin and take her hand in mine.

“You say that like you think I'm going to die.”

“My ability—” she hesitates, and a chill washes over me. “My ability is to sense and siphon energy. Not just cursed energy, but all energy. If you die within that veil, if you do not come back to me, I will suck the marrow from this world until I can draw no more. And when the world is withered, when my skin cracks with the white-hot blood in my veins, I will unleash my ultimate technique.”

“Supernova.”

I am numb with shock. She has not told me— has not told anyone— the full extent of her abilities. She always, always valued the safety of others over pushing her powers to their limit. That she has done so now means that she is serious about this— that she truly believes that she will need the full extent of her abilities. That she will use them. That, if I die, she will destroy the world that took me from her. 

“There is power gathering in Shibuya. Go safely there and return quickly back to me.” It is not a request. “Go now, before I change my mind and come with you.”

“You can't.” My response is immediate, decisive. I press my hand against her belly. “You've got your own battle to fight.”

Her face screws up at that. She hates the notion that she should be protected in such a vulnerable state. I'm pregnant, not dead, she is fond of griping— but a battlefield is no place for an expectant mother. 

“Don't piss me off.”

“She'll come any day now.”

“We're having a son, Satoru.”

I know that. I don't want to admit it. I long for a daughter— a tiny version of my lover, a soft and sweet child who will be allowed, if only for a time, to keep that softness. I will love my son because he is mine, but I mourn for the responsibility he will carry, for what he will have to overcome to be a good man.  

“Whatever you say, dear.”

I don't want to argue. 

She shakes her head at me, and I know a fight is inevitable. 

“I should be going with you,” she turns from me, head still shaking. She begins to pace like an irritated tigress, graceful despite her bump. “I'm pregnant, not dead. I should gear up and make you let me— you could not stop me, Satoru.”

She adds that as an afterthought, and, now that she has had a moment to consider it, looks at me warily. I know she is wondering if I actually could. If I would. She's tempted, I know, to test me on it. 

So I disabuse her of any notion of her coming with me. 

I stalk up to her, fierce and immoveable, and I put my hand at the soft, sweet curve where her neck meets her shoulder. My hand, too big to really fit, splays across her throat, and I bear the familiar freezing burn of her siphon even when she starts to push me, pulling more than she would naturally. She's trying to remind me of who and what she is, but I have not forgotten. In this, she cannot frighten, bully, or move me in any way. In this, I am unshakeable. 

“You will not go with me to Shibuya.”

Her eyes flash, and she slaps my hand away from her.

“I have every right to go with you! This— this— whatever they want from you— it is just as much mine as it is yours! I am a sorcerer, Satoru! I'm your—!”

She cuts herself off angrily. She cannot say wife. We've been hiding like little rats from the elders, trying to keep ourselves and our child safe from their influence. Now, the fact that I haven't made an honest woman of her is a panging regret. As it stands, the annals of history will not say that she was mine and that I was hers. They will not speak our names together. They will not tell of how greatly we loved. 

For some reason, that bothers me more than it should. 

“You're all that and more,” I soothe her, kissing her brow. “I know you don't want to hear it, sweetness, but your task is far greater than mine, and more perilous. For this, you're sacrificing your body, yes, your time, yes, but also your pride. I can understand the sting of it,”— Can I really? I try to imagine it, being told that being the strongest, that being Gojo Satoru, that answering the call to bloodshed, must be given freely away in favor of hiding safely away, and I sicken at the chafe of it— “but your pride isn't worth sacrificing our child or our vision for the future.”

I tuck a stray hair behind her ear. 

“You say they bay for my blood, and you say rightly. It's me they want. If I die— if they kill me— I will have met the kind of end that I want.”

She shakes her head, furious. Tears slip down her cheeks like sparkling dewdrops. 

“It might be a bit sooner than I'd like,” I muse, “but old age wouldn't suit me anyway. And anyway, I have yet to meet another soul capable of killing me— do you know of any force on earth that's a match for me as of yet, my love?”

My grin is silly and misplaced at a time like this. I had hoped that it would prove infectious, but the woman of my heart only scowls at me. 

“You're not funny, Satoru.”

“You're right, I'm hilarious.”

She sighs, long-suffering, and I gather her in my arms. 

“You're beautiful when you sulk.”

“Not sulking,” she sulks, shrinking from me.

“Oh really?” I stroke the crease between her brows. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I'm sending my lover off to wage war, Satoru. Don't expect me to smile.”

Maybe she’s right after all, I think as I kiss her, soft and slow. Maybe I really never was hers to begin with— but if that's the case, then she never was mine either. Both of us, we would be only borrowed, on loan from the expectations that were thrust upon us. I chafe at the notion. Selfishly, I want to have possessed her; I want to own her from the soles of her feet to the crown of her beautiful head. 

When I cup her cheek, I find it burning hot and slightly damp. Her eyes, having closed to kiss me, bleed their tears in rivulets down her cheek. 

Perhaps this was always the difference between us. My yoke sits lightly on my shoulders. I love my power, my strength, and the duty that accompanies it; I am the strongest, and, for the most part, it fills me with leonine pride and god-like ecstasy. That has never been the case for my dearest love, the mother of my child. Her duty sits mountain-heavy on her. It always has. If she could escape it all, live as a normal sorcerer, not as the contingency, not as a wealthy heiress, and certainly not as a fragile, expectant mother who was pressured all her life by her peers to have a child not for love but for eugenics, she would escape it— well, she already has escaped most of it. I am the force that binds her to that yoke, that shackles her to duty. But I cannot help what I am any more than she can help loving me. All I can do is love her and hope that that is enough.

“Don't cry,” I murmur against her hair, holding her to my chest. “What will be will be. Have peace.”

“I will not have peace,” she softly, hoarsely cries into the soft cotton fabric of my shirt. “Not when there is so much to lose if I don’t fight for it.”

I hold her there for as long as I can. When we pull away, she wipes her tears with the back of her palm and looks at me tiredly. I just can't  shake the feeling that something about this is… final. 

“Go,” she says, regal, proud, and dreadful. “I love you, Gojo Satoru.”

It's a push and pull as always with us, and always like a blade against a whetstone, we sharpen one another. The sharpness in her steels me, and I kiss her forehead one last time in parting. 

“I love you,” I say against her soft skin. I murmur her name like a whispered prayer, and then I teleport to Shibuya. 

I already miss her, even before my atoms still from their long journey across the temporal distance. 

[hoover1st]

Work in progress I wrote for my durge and Astarion:

What makes me so special?

*M/F, no pronouns used, fingering, Astarion is manipulative, exploration of what Astarion might be like after all he’s gone through pre-tadpole*

Every nerve of mine is firing, or at least that seems like the most logical way to explain the effects of his cold fingers’ tireless ministrations

My minds a fuzzy haze; a different kind than I’m used to. I’m seeing stars, tensing up, when I feel a harsh icy finger press against my open, panting lips

“Shush now darling, it’s already painfully obvious to our companions that you need me, we needn’t illustrate the point any further”

Astarion’s smug grin peers down at me. It’s an effort to peel my eyes open, and I almost immediately regret doing so

My gut churns at his words and there’s the small, unrelenting voice that rings through my useless head. Yearning to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. Dig my nails into him and shout that he’s wrong, I don’t need him

I don’t do any of those things. I know that he’s right. I need him, and I’m not going to argue with the man whose ending my world with a couple digits

Astarion seems to know my body better than I ever could, or at least he does now. Maybe before all this, I could have done it by myself, knew how to tilt my fingers, what pace felt best. Yet I don’t, so I’ve resolved to letting myself be degraded by this pallid, sharp-toothed fiend

Against my better judgment, against the disgusting voice that grinds against the inside of my skull, I’m sucking that taut finger in with my tongue. I’m bobbing my head in agreement and holding in my whines as his grin widens at my compliance

He clicks his tongue, his amusement growing, “Yes that’s right dear, who else could possibly unravel you like this?”

I can feel the weight of his gaze as it rakes down my form, those sharp scrutinizing eyes devour me “You know that no one else could help you like I do, guide you with your condition, right?”

I don’t deign to respond, Im too focused on finding that sweet ending. he always does this anyways, asks these demeaning questions when I’m at my most vulnerable.

My blood boils as he picks up the pace, I know this dance by now. He quickens, works those magic fingers, then I feel the coil snap. Only this time, right as I’m about to burst, he rips his fingers out from my core with a sudden movement.

The hand that was once on my lips is digs into the side of my face, cradling my head up to his. My eyes snap open, a whine rips from my throat as my gaze finds his.

His face is cold and harsh, he’s a breadth away from me and his lips pull back into a snarl

Most would likely stiffen with fear at the sight of those mean crimson eyes or the threat promised in his glinting canines. Unfortunately for me, my body doesn’t seem to react to danger, another broken function of mine. Maybe if I were normal, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

His voice lacks the practiced sensuality. Instead it drips venom as he snarls “I asked a question my sweet. I don’t appreciate being ignored, especially not when I’m providing for you so kindly”

The voice is now screaming at me, scratching its claws at my forehead. It shouts at me to pay him pack for all his disrespect. For taking my lifeblood. It urges me with all its might to give him a taste of his own medicine, maybe see how his neck and blood tastes

Of course, I don’t listen. Astarion knows as well as I do that I’m weak. Every warrior has an Achilles Heel. Whatever the voice in me is, I know it hates Astarion. Hates the weakness I have for him, maybe that’s part of the draw I have to the vampire

I hold his gaze for a long moment. I pretend that I could hate him, pretend that I’m able to stand up to him, pretend that I’m making an exception just this once. I put on a good show. Baring my teeth, clenching my fists, meeting his gaze with my own, but we both know it’s a show.

With a heavy sigh I nod, “Fine Astarion, you’re right. I need you”

My voice is defiant and unconvincing but he accepts it. He pulls back, his sensual smug expression returning as his fingers trail back down my body, teasing my core, lightly circling my clit

This is good, this is worth the disrespect. I’ve forgotten all about it by the time his fingers stuff me, pumping in and out in rhythm to the song my body sings to him

Astarion’s back to whispering sugary sweet praises into my neck. This is our arrangement, as he makes me come undone, he gets his own payment. I’m on the edge when he sinks his teeth into my neck, groaning and lapping incessantly as he drinks my blood

The sensation always pushes me over the edge, and I cry as the coil in my stomach snaps. His fingers pump in me as I ride out my high, and for a brief sweet moment, we’re holding each other and shuddering, coming down from our highs.

It’s like clockwork. He helps clean me up, I offer to return the favor, he politely declines and claims “my blood is payment enough”, and he leaves me, sweaty and panting, alone in my tent.

I don’t believe him, but I dont understand why. This started slow, built to sex, and now has become this quick easy dance. I’ll take anything he will give me, but I desperately want to return the favor. I’ve lain here many nights, trying to figure out why he rejects my offers.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I suck at it. I wonder if I was once good and desirable, if the roles could’ve been reversed, and I could have Astarion begging me instead. My bodies primal instincts don’t tell me how to touch another gently, how to pleasure, so I’ve accepted that blood is a good exchange.

But sometimes I consider that it could be another part of whatever plot he has. Astarion likes to remind me I’m not the brightest, but the voice tells me not to trust him. Maybe one day he will remind me of how selfish I am, how my need for him isn’t fair and blood doesn’t equate to the way he makes me feel

Everyone has blood, what makes me so special?

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER V

✷WARNINGS: cursing, pining??, farrah mentioned, xavia lore dropping, angst ✷NIYAH SPEAKS: computer fixed ayeeee!!! imma get to yalls requests now i pinky swear. idk when they'll be out but i gotchu

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

“So, Ms. Johnson,” Paige smiles at me from her spot on the ground, “What does one do for Christmas in LA?”

The original plan for tonight was for our whole group to hang out before we all left to our hometowns. So it was KK, Azzi, Yanna, Jane and I. 

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan around here. Yanna and Jane went back to our place so Jane could finish packing. Azzi had to ‘take a phone call’ but she’d been in her room for almost an hour. And KK was supposed to be picking up the food, but she had been gone longer than Azzi. 

So it was just Paige and I, her on the ground building LEGO’s and me on the couch scrolling. It was a comfortable silence, but a silence that was begging to be broken. I guess Paige decided to be the one that broke it. 

“Well, Christmas is different in my house than it would be for your average Californian.” I set my phone down before folding my hands and sliding them under the blanket. “It’s more of a production than a holiday.”

I make it a point to never talk about my family’s dynamic with anyone here. I try my hardest for those two worlds to never meet, but for some reason, I trust that Paige will understand my situation better than anyone. I think to some extent, her life is as complex as mine is.

Paige seems ultimately unbothered by what I said. “Is your family one of those weird ones that has a 90ft tree and uses rare cloth to wrap presents?” She asks without ever taking her eyes off the project she’s working on. 

“Uh, kinda,” I start, “My parents are both surgeons and all four of my grandparents were doctors. My grandpa make like, a life changing discovery before my dad was born, and my grandma on my moms side was a pioneer for black women in the medical field,”

“Sound like some shit off Grey’s,” Paige chuckles and I can’t help but to join her, because it really does sound like some shit from Grey’s. 

“So obviously they were very successful and raised my parents to be just like them,”

“Of course.”

“So naturally, my parents are just like their parents and my grandparents are very proud of them, as they should be.” I throw my hands up, to let Paige know that I’m also proud of my parents, “But then they had me. And it was my parent’s turn to shape and mold their prodigy.”

“Right.” Paige nod’s her head like she’s following, still focused on the LEGO’s.

“Except I hate blood, and science has always been my weakest subject.”

She freezes for a second before turning her head to me, now paying full attention.

“So instead of a prodigy, they got a humanitarian who protests the cost of health insurance.”

Paige winces at my words, like she understands that there’s career shaped canyon between my parents and I. “Ouch,”

“Yeah so, back to Christmas,” I take a deep breath and let it out before answering her original question, “Every year, my parents throw this big party every year, bigger than the Thanksgiving one, and it’s filled with rich people who talk about making themselves richer.” 

I decide to leave out the part about me playing the piano and how a piece of me dies everytime I strike a chord. 

“Everyone asks me how school’s going and if I’m still majoring in Sociology and when I tell them ‘yes,’ they remind me that ‘the money isn’t great in social work’, and I have to pretend like I don’t want to scream that if I cared about money then I would still be using my parents money instead of busting my ass to pay my rent and keep my grades up so I don’t lose my scholarship.” 

Realizing that I’ve started rambling, I take another breath, closing my eyes and counting to three before I release it. And Paige doesn’t say anything. She just allows me this moment for myself, regardless of any questions she may have, and I appreciate more than she realizies. 

“Nobody gets why I don’t use my trust fund, or why I work when my parent’s would pay for everything.” I open my eyes and allow them to find Paige’s. 

She looks empathetic and confused and it makes me want to run away and never see her again, but also tell her all my secrets, hopes and dreams at the same time. 

Funny, right?

“Why don’t you?” she asks.

I think about my answer for a second, trying to put it in the best way I can. How do you explain to someone that if you wanted to, you could have everything you wanted, but to get everything you want, you have to be everything you never want to be? How do you explain that you know from firsthand experience that money doesn’t buy happiness?

“Because then they’d have control over me.” I speak slowly, not sure if it makes sense to me, let alone Paige. “They’d hold the money over my head so that I would have no choice but to be exactly who they want me to be. And I’d rather live the life that I do, than pretend to be something I’m not.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost one me. 

Rich girl want to change the world by refusing to take Mommy and Daddy’s money.

Cliche, I know. But I don’t want to change the world by not taking their money. I’d gladly accept the help from my parents, and I know I’d make much more of a difference if I had money they were always trying to force feed me. But the cost isn’t worth it to me. 

How can I, in good conscience, fight to make life easier for the middle/lower class if I’m rubbing elbows with the very people who are making their lives harder?

Paige’s response shocks me to my core. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

I don’t know why I said that. I meant what I said, but I stil have no fucking clue why I allowed myself to say it. 

Because now, Xavia is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to go further. Waiting for me to give her and explanation that I can’t give her. 

I think about where this conversation would go if I was honest about it. 

I’d tell her that I admired her ability to be honest. That I lie to everyone about everything and I think the guilt is gonna kill me before I make it to the league, which is the reason I’m doing it in the first place. I’d tell her that I wish I was strong enough to do what I want without caring about the repercussions. 

My first thought is that if I were to say all that, she’d for sure think I’m insane. I wouldn’t blame her. How can I play the victim in this situation when at the end of the day, it’s my choices that got me here?

But my second thought is that Xavia would take a second. Close her eyes and take a deep breath, and I’d stare at her lashes as they brush her cheek and hope that one falls so I can brush it off her cheek. And after that second, she’d open her eyes and tell me everything I need to hear. She’d come up with a solution to all my problems and when I tell her that I’m scared to be honest about everything, she wouldn’t make me feel like shit. She’d assure me that she’d be there when my world crumbles due to my lies.

None of that can happen for two reasons. 

I’m for shit sure not gonna chance Xavia and I’s friendship by telling her my secrets.

If my second thought is correct, I’d be forced to admit to myself that I never stopped liking Xavia. I’d be forced to admit that it might not be a like anymore. That it might possibly be something deeper and complex than wanting what I can’t have.

So instead, I feed her bullshit. 

“Uh, just-” I clear my throat, “If I had the choice to go to school on someone else’s dime, I’d take it, regardless.”

The way Xavi’s face drops makes my heart do the same. I literally watch the light in her eyes that I love so much, disappear.  Her brows furrow and she tucks her lips before sticking her neck out as if to telepathically say, ‘are you dumb?’

And I’m not.

I fully understand her mindset. And I support her choices to be independent. That sentence was just the best I could come up with at the moment, but clearly it’s done more harm than good. 

“Did you not hear everything I just said?”

“Uh-”

She cuts me off, “Because if you did, then you would have heard the part where I explained why I’m not doing that.”

“No, I know why you’re doing things your way, I just wouldn’t do the same.”

The baffled look on her face tells me she’s not pleased with my attempt at damage control, “And why not?”

There are countless answers to that question, and running them over in my mind makes me mad, more at myself than anyone else. All the excuses are my own fault. 

I’m too scared to fail.

I made promises I wouldn’t be able to keep on my own.

I don’t have the confidence within myself to trust me with my own life.

And of course, like the fucking moron that I am, I said none of that to the girl who’s now standing up front the couch, legs unfolded, bare feet barring into the carpet. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to make Xavia, and you choosing to struggle and cause a rift with your parents doesn’t seem worth the cause.” I shrugged, leaning back on my haunches, craning my neck to see her. 

She cuts her eyes at me before inhaling and exhaling. ‘Bye, Paige.” And now, she’s sliding into her shoes and grabbing her back, “Tell KK I’ll Apple Pay her my part for the food.”

I’m speechless as I watch her hips sway to my front door. I watch her arms swing the door open and I watch it close with a soft click. 

It isn’t until I watch her Uber drive off with her in it that I realize what the fuck just happened, and when I do it takes everything in me to not fall to my fucking knees. 

I just stare at the door, like if I hope hard enough Xavia will come back and have magically figured out everything I wanted to say.

But she doesn’t come back. The front door doesn’t open again until KK barges in with bags of Chick-Fil-A, asking where Xavi and Azzi went.

I can’t even bring myself to answer. 

I just close my eyes and force the tears back into their ducts before wordlessly going to my room and it isn’t until I’m in my bed with the lights off that allow the tears to fall. 

I allow myself to shake from the force of my regret. I let my lungs empty themselves out into my pillow with every sob. I allow this one time to be honest with myself because no amount of ignoring or denial will trick my brain into thinking that being Xavi-less is worth it.. 

So the rest of the night, I cry until there’s no tears left, and then I cry some more just because I want to. 

It’s not even the fact that Xavia walked out on me. It’s not abou the fact that she’s mad at me, though that doesn’t sit well either. 

It’s the fact that, for years I knew exactly how my life was gonna look. I knew I was going pro. I knew I was gonna be the #1 draft pick and I knew that in order for these things to happen, I had to make sacrifices. I had to pick the right girl, wear the right clothes, talk a certain way and dedicate myself to my career. I had to be absolutely fucking miserable and become a version of myself that I wasn’t proud of.

 And for all this time, I told myself that all this loneliness and misery was going to be worth it when I put that hat on. Because then I’d have done it. I’d have done what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10.

It didn’t matter that I was a liar. That I was keeping a girl I loved (as a friend) from being with someone who could give her everything she deserved. It didn’t matter I’d never enjoy sex again, or that the guilt of my decisons was probably gonna give me ulcers. Didn’t even matter that I’d probably go to Hell for all the sins I’d committed.

But now, I can’t stop my brain from telling me that the WNBA isn’t worth Farrah’s happiness. It isn’t worth the light in Xavia’s eyes. It isn’t worth Azzi’s peace of mind. 

It isn’t worth my soul.

The next morning, I ignore my alarm. I ignore the knocks on my door and the texts from my team and the calls from Farrah. I just lay there in my bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells nothing like coconut oil, and try to get my shit together, 

I wrack my brain and force myself to remember why I’m doing this. 

WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?

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[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[a-clever-mind-is-fatal]

Why are you just standing there?

Aren't you going to help him?