#Skin Carre

[skyview12]

Naturally Healthy Skin with Myreen Young Skincare

Discover the beauty of naturally healthy skin with Myreen Young Skincare. Our award-winning, UK-based line is devoted to harnessing the powers of organic ingredients to give your skin the love it deserves.

[whoturnedgravityoff]

team bolas designs!!

[bistaxx]

not sure if anyone else has posted this, but new Baghera skin ^_^

[thembo-bright]

I got all the Bolas Team skins, look at the funky little guys!

[saenora]

sae is the type of boyfriend who’d force you to do skincare routine with him.

​EVERY SUNDAY IS SKINCARE SUNDAY✨

[l3fool]

I saw A Legacy of Spies by John le Carry Ina bookstore today and I so wanted to buy it but I have so many books I haven't read that I'm afraid they will murder me when I'm sleep if I buy a new one lol😭

[ramons-elevator]

You can say whatever you want about the Red team but you cant deny that they are so into their roles and devoted to the bit. One of them, in the middle of their first day chaos, said they should all change their skins and fucking look at them.

THEY LOOK HORRIBLE I LOVE IT (Carre my boy por favor change your skin to be part of the chaos)

I hope we have a moment where the other teams see all of them together and go “Oh fuck they are really going through it”

And with them with their gas masks? Fucking horrifying

They are Bolas Rojas. They chant “BOLAS” when they see each other. They are a wild pack of hyenas who will die for a joke if they want. They are unpredictable yet the most coordinated team.

Bolas Rojas para siempre

[superhaught]

Gym Class Heroes

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: head injury, blood, homophobia

Word Count: 1600, Part 1/?

Part Two

Anonymous asked: Hey hun, sup? can i make a lil' request? i'd like to ask for a Regina George x Reader (reader is afab but kinda androgynous) where a fight breaks out at gym class and Regina steps in breaking out the fight because she gets really protective of reader (even though they never spoke before that day but both have like this unspoken attraction to one another) and takes care of reader's injuries? might lead to kissing. it's fluff with a bit of angst mixed in pls? Thanks a lot!!!!

It was your least favorite part of the day: gym class. 

You hated it. Hated it.

Not that you didn’t like being active or didn’t enjoy learning about exercise and the human body and nutrition, that was all fine.

You hated the locker room. You hated the jocks. You hated getting sweaty and smelly halfway through your school day. You hated the stench of the gym and the feel of the rubber floors. You hated fitness tests. And you didn’t particularly enjoy Coach Carr. 

But… It wasn't all bad. 

There was always Regina. 

At first, you were terrified to have gym with her. You were certain that she would find ways to make you feel self-conscious the entire semester, not necessarily intentionally, that was just her way. But, that didn’t end up being the case. 

You still never spoke to her, but every once in a while, you caught her glancing at you. In the locker room as you changed into your cutoff shirts, when you were running laps or doing sit ups, even when you were just taking notes, you could feel her eyes on you. 

You would look, and she would look away, and you’d get all flustered by her cropped tank tops and high-waisted leggings, then you’d look away again, trying to hide your reddened cheeks. 

You had to be delusional, though. There was no way that Regina George was actually crushing on you. You had to be making it up. 

Thank goodness for small miracles. It was Friday and when you entered the gym, Coach Carr yelled out that it would just be a free gym day. No particular lesson or game to worry about, everyone could just pick an activity and do what they wanted as long as they were being active. You breathed a sigh of relief and went to go grab a basketball.

You posted up at one of the hoops with a few others who were just going to practice taking shots quietly. You put your earbuds in and started playing music on your phone and began to just blissfully zone out. You took turns with your peers practicing layups and free throws while sneaking glances across the gym at Regina who was lobbing a volleyball back and forth with Gretchen. You couldn't help but notice how good she looked.

You didn’t notice Coach Carr leaving the gym to take his daily smoke break. 

You didn’t notice Shane Ohman and his buddies approaching you. 

You didn’t notice them hollering insults at you, not until it was too late. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucking dyke!” 

Shane chucked his basketball through the air at full force and it smacked into your temple. You saw stars and went straight to the ground, feeling the sting of the skin of your eyebrow splitting and the warm wetness of fresh blood pouring down the side of your face from the wound. 

One of Shane’s friends said, “ohhh shiiit.”

“That’s what you get for fucking checking out my girls’ ass, you lesbo!” Shane shouted. 

The group of guys were only egging him on, and as far as you knew, everyone else was stunned into silence. You vaguely saw the shape of Shane hovering over you before a flash of blonde ponytail entered your vision. 

“Your girl!? Now I know you better not be talking about me you fucking piece of shit. I dumped your smarmy ass so what fucking business do you have coming to my defense against someone who’s half your size? Get the fuck out of here before I get your dad and Principal Duvall in the same room and tell them you committed a hate crime and get your athletic scholarship flushed down the toilet or worse!” 

You heard the sounds of feet quickly sprinting away on the gym floor and then saw the blonde crouch down beside you through your good eye. 

“That looks bad,” she winced, lightly touching your shoulder. She turned her head to speak to someone else, “Gretchen, go get Coach Carr and tell him what happened, yeah? We’re going straight to the nurses’ office.”

Before you could process, Regina was helping you stand up and was acting as a crutch for you. She helped you make your way out of the gym through the locker room. She stopped for a moment to grab a clean towel and pressed it against the wound on your head and the pressure made you feel faint.

“Fuck I need to sit…” you gasped. 

“Okay, okay,” she quickly guided you down to a bench and sat beside you, still holding the towel to your head, “There you go, take it easy.” 

You peered at her as she slowly came into focus.

“Regina, why are you helping me?” 

“Why not?” 

“Well… because you’re you?” 

The corner of her mouth raised into a little smirk, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I don’t take you for the helping kind.” 

“How about you worry less about talking and more about staying conscious. Do you think you can walk with me to the nurse?” 

You made a solid effort to stand back up but you immediately felt lightheaded and plopped back down, shaking your head lightly. 

“Alright, we’ll stay here then.” Regina looked around the locker room and located a first aid kit on the wall, “okay, I need you to lie down slowly on the bench, slowly, and hold the towel, I’m gonna get the first aid kit just hang in there.” 

You replaced her hand on the towel with yours and held it against your head as you lied down and she got up. She came back a second later holding the first aid kit. 

Regina carefully peeled the towel away and winced along with you, “okay, I’m not a doctor obviously but I don’t think you need stitches? You probably have a concussion, though, so I think you should go to a doctor or something but I don’t want to move you for now.” 

She started fussing with things in the first aid kit and explained, “I’m just going to clean the cut and bandage it up for the time being, okay? It looks like it’s not bleeding anymore so that’s good.” 

You nodded and watched her, “you’re surprisingly caring…” 

“What did I say about talking?” 

You snapped your mouth closed. 

“Little sting,” Regina covered your eyelid with her hand and sprayed antiseptic solution onto the wound then gently wiped it with gauze. 

“How do you even bandage an eyebrow?” She muttered. 

“The butterfly ones, or the strip-type bandages to pull the edges together, and then gauze over it.” You offer. 

“Huh, okay.” 

Regina took her time finding the right things and carefully tending to you. 

“Do you think I’m going to have a scar?” 

“Maybe. Probably,” Regina answered, “it’ll look cool if you do. Very rugged.” 

“Stupid story behind it…” 

“I’m going to have Shane roasted on a spit for doing this to you, I promise you that.” 

“Oh jeez, Regina. You don’t have to do that.” 

“Did it sound like I was asking?” 

You swallowed and tested sitting up slowly after she finished bandaging you up. 

“Slow, slow…” she commanded, holding onto your upper arms.

You nodded and came to an upright position without feeling faint, “I already feel a lot better. Thanks, Regina.” 

“I still think you need to leave school and go to the doctor to get checked for a concussion. You don’t need an ambulance or anything like that, probably. We can call your parents or honestly I can drive you if your parents are working…”

“Oh… that’s really nice of you. I’ll call my mom and see what she thinks.” 

She nodded and checked your bandages again. She was fussing over you in a weirdly concerned, maternal way. 

“Regina?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How come no one sees this side of you?” 

She raised an eyebrow, “most people don’t earn this side of me.” 

“But I do?” 

“Sure.” 

You didn’t really have a good response to that so you just stayed quiet while Regina got up and got you some water and then texted Gretchen updates. 

“Gretchen will bring Coach Carr in here in a sec to check in, is that okay?” 

You nodded. 

Regina examined you again, “can I ask you a question?” 

“What’s up?” 

“Were you actually checking out my ass earlier?” 

Your face flushed like crazy, “wh-what?” 

“Shane said you were checking out my ass. Were you?”

You just stared at her. 

“You can be honest, I won’t be upset either way.” 

“I…” you took a deep breath, “yes. I was. You look incredible in those leggings.” 

Regina smiled, “good. I mean, not good that you took a basketball to the face for it, but good that you were checking me out.” 

“You’re not upset?” 

“No. Why would I be upset?“ 

“Because… I dunno, I guess because I’m no better than a gross guy?” 

Regina rolled her eyes, “no. Trust me, it’s a compliment from you.” 

Coach Carr came into the girls locker room while unnecessarily covering his eyes and quickly checked in with you, saying, “alright chief, we already called your mom and she’s on her way to pick you up, okay? We’ll get you to the front office to wait. After that, Regina, Gretchen wants you to come with her to Principal Duvall’s office to tell him what you saw happen, k?” 

Regina nodded. 

“Go team,” he added before ducking back out. 

Regina looked at you, “Did he just call you chief?” 

You shrugged, “I guess so.” 

You both laughed and Regina walked you to the front of the school to wait for your mom. She waved at you as you got into your mom’s van and you watched as the blonde turned and angrily stormed in the direction of the principal’s office, now on a new mission. 

Next Chapter

[biarritzzz]

It is CRIMINAL that we never got a third season of Mindhunter.

It could have been so good. Since season 1 was about Holden and season 2 about Bill, I definitely think season 3 would have been about Wendy.

Alas. Sob.

MINDHUNTER (2.03) 

[topmalereaderblog]

I'm not 100% percent sure if this request follows the rules so lemme know. but could you do a bottom male reader TOPPING miguel o'hara for the first time? like he isn't a dom by any means so Miguel has to guide and tell him what he wants him to do. and the reader's probably nervous because he doesn't want to break Miguel's ass xDD

Miguel O'Hara // Mature Thoughts⚠️

Imagine: First times are always weird, but they do hold a lot of passion, and it's no different for Miguel and you.

"Okay, mi amor carful," Miguel said, trying to help you as much as possible. It was gonna be your first time topping, and you were by far the clueless person when it came to this.

"I am. I'm trying to make sure I don't hurt you."

"You're not gonna hurt me, mi vida. I'm a Spiderman, too, just take it easy and relax."

"Okay, now let's start small prepping. Get the lube and stretch me out slowly," Miguel could see your hesitation, but you listened to him regardless you trusted him. He felt your fingers circling his hairy hairy hole and push in "mierda~."

Miguel said with gritted teeth as his head fell back against. You could feel him clench around your finger he was warm you and you were starting to get excited. You moved your fingers, trying to pick up a pace.

Miguel moved his hips, trying to match your fingers stretching and thrusting inside him.

"Okay, love, I'm ready," Miguel was breathing heavily as you took out your fingers front him. You carrful lined your cock with his hole and pushed in. You moaned at the tightness and gripped onto Miguel as you bottom out inside your hairy balls, resting in his hairy ass.

"That's it, love estás asiendo un buen trabajo solo relájate," you could feel him move his hand across your back you nordeste and pulled out slowly you thrusted inside him with a little bit of force.

"That's it baby just like that," Miguel said closing his eyes your.

So, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of skin slapping on skin. Your moans bounced off the walls as the pace you set was brutal. You couldn't help it the way Miguel warm walls stretched around you was pleasurable.

"C'mon estoy cerca mi amor más profavor don't stop," you could feel Miguel's hairy legs wrap around your hips pulling you closer.

"Miguel necesito- need to-," you felt your lips smash against Miguel. He could feel your groans as he kissed you.

"Inside baby cum inside me but not yet I'm so close Okay can you do that for me," Miguel asked pulling away from your lips he saw you nod as you pulled him in another kiss this time more desperate and filled with need.

"That's it, c'mon, so close, baby fucking hell~," Miguel came his warm walls tightening around your length triggering your owns orgasm. It felt too much that you continued to thrust through your orgasm feeling overly sensitive.

As both your orgasm came to and end, you looked at each other, trying to catch your breaths. You felt his hand on your cheek soothing you "you did good amor."

You didn't have energy much to talk opting to lay your head down on his hairy pecs nodding in agreement. "I wanna try again b- but later."

"Okay, baby, rest." And with that, you did you didn't even notice you were still buried inside Miguel feeling too sensitive to pull out. After a while, you both feel asleep, your bodies recovering for the next round.

Authors note: thank you for requesting you were right it doesn't follow the rules but I saw this more as a mature thought so I allowed it.

[inkyquince]

anyway, durge having weird ritual blood sex with gortash. Shout out to @angrelysimpping who sent the prompt from the sex magic book they were reading because we're both insane.

characters. lord enver gortash :3

content warning. dark urge reader. pre-tadpole era. gortash being viciously down bad, because he's very willing to have sex with durge while they're covered in blood and being watched by the cultists. exhibitionism. blood play. gore mention, along with murder. 2.6k words.

"Howerever, he also added a powerful dose of Tantrism by suggesting that magical work should be conducted in the nude, with the ritual use of a flail, and that rites should be led by a High Priest and High Priestess who would literally or symbolically couple at the climax of certain rituals." The Book Of English Magic, Carr-Gomm. P. 

Gortash was not one to be summoned. Summoned, sent for, demanded to show up with haste at the whim of someone else. While he might schmooze with the Duke and hastily head over when Ravengard demands him to come talk, he is a man not to be controlled and demanded things of. 

But you always were such a delicious thorn in his side. While others, like Thorm, would try to pry it out, getting their fingers bloodied as they struggled to grip onto it, Gortash relished the sting that came with every movement. The ache, the soreness of the skin struggling to reject the barb, the trickle of blood leaking down his side. He adored it. The cushy life he led in Baldur’s Gate had softened his skin, despite the sulfur of the hells soaked into it. You were refreshing. A tinge of pain that was inflicted on him in the House of Hope by the boatload, except this time, the claws that had raked down his back as a punishment had turned into something deeply pleasurable for him. 

So when you sent for him, he’d never dream of keeping you waiting. Your letter mentioned something about needing his help with a ritual of Bhaal’s, so while he was looking forward to seeing you, he was quietly hoping that you weren’t about to blood sacrifice him or something. It would put a damper on the plans you two shared. 

Gortash knows the path down to Bhaal’s temple well enough by now. He almost basked in it, enjoying the looks the other worshippers would shoot him as he made his way down, some questioning, some openly hostile and a select few viciously jealous. But this journey down was different. No stray cultists, whispering about guts and garroting. No weird little butler scuttling after him. 

Nothing.

Except when the chanting reaches his ears. 

The low, rhythmic voices, all whispering, all culminating into something strange, something wrong, something that makes the hair on his neck stand up on end. Gods, he really hopes he isn’t a sacrificial lamb here. He refuses to spurn an invitation from you, so he continues down, down, down, the chanting getting louder, louder, louder. 

Entering the main sanctum, he finally sees all. Bhaalists crowding all the stairs leading down to the platform with the sacrificial altar, with no sign of you. Just a deep, dark, pool of blood, big enough for someone to swim in. Even more worrying. 

His presence didn’t go unnoticed. The cultists were already parting for him to make his way through, and closing in behind him, barring him from exiting. The whispers quietened for just a second before resuming, even louder as he was prodded, like cattle to continue down. Before too long he stood on the platform, his palms itching. Just when he was about to demand answers, the chanting stopped, the disconcerting whispers cutting off into dead silence immediately. 

The blood in the pool quivered and a body breached the liquid, coated in a deep, slippery crimson. 

Fuck. 

Gortash always knew you were sublime in red. But you were completely covered. Dripping blood as you step out of the pool, you don’t even push away the blood painting your face, not when you open your eyes and focus on him. 

The entire room seemed to drink you in, your naked form, glazed with the very essence your father urged you to spill. It was only a few seconds of silence before the chanting resumed, but it was different this time. As if the previous whispering had been a chorus of begging, for you to emerge, but now? It was a demand, for the ritual to resume, for it to be completed, to taint the room further. 

All the air in Gortash’s lungs had stilled, but when you came closer, it rushed out all at once. Your naked form was always deeply divine to him, no matter how many times he bedded it. While he paid for his whores and some married ladies adorned his bed, he often got tired of them, seeing them as run through, and no longer exciting. But you? Fuck. Hells, even your bloodied, nude form was already getting him hard. 

“Sorry for the vague invitation.” You murmur, as if you two were at a soiree that he just got the invitation for. “Needed someone for this and I don’t think Thorm can get it up at his age.” 

Gortash’s lips twitch, but your bloodied fingers curling around his wrist silenced his snarky retort. Nothing to say, not when you lead him to the altar. 

“What-” 

You hushed him, pressing a finger against his lips and leaving a crimson mark in its wake. 

“Don’t worry. Just a ritual for each decade that passes. Better me than Sarevok, believe me, even if he has run out of his own spawn to give daughters to.” You roll your eyes but push him back, against the altar, forcing him down as you straddle him, staining his clothes. 

He’ll never throw them out. 

The altar was no soft bed, and while he wasn’t a squeamish man, the strong smell of blood was clouding his head. It was at this angle, that he noticed the cuts along your side, looking like marks made by a flail, even though the blood you were drenched in weren’t from your own injuries. Even the dozens of eyes trained on the two of you, there was a delicious string of excitement, pulling his spine taut and tight. 

Gortash was no Bhaalist, not when he followed Bane, so while he was no stranger to certain rituals, he was unused to ones of this… Variety. He made a note to himself that he should read up on them, just in case he was about to have a Bhaalspawn of his own somehow. Not that there has never been an attempt to baby trap him in the past, but this was… Different. 

You, naked and bloodied, on top of him with wild, dark eyes, the chanting of some, excuse his phrasing, cultist weirdos echoing in his ears. The only thought his mind could form as you dragged your hand over his lips, down his throat, was that if this was a ritual purely for Bhaal, he did hope He wasn’t aware that he was the one getting hard underneath his favorite spawn. 

But that seemed to be the point. You gave him a dangerous smile, blood slipping in between your lips and staining your teeth, similar to when you’d bite him during sex and come away with crimson painting your tongue. As per usual, you had no patience for his belt, instead opting to barely loosen it and slip his trousers down enough for his cock to spring free. Thank the Gods he had, a self admittedly fat, “pretty” cock. Though, he doubts if he didn’t, you wouldn’t have bothered with him beyond your first tryst. But being humiliated in front of the dagger happy zealots was not high on his list of priorities. 

His busy mind screeched to a halt as you slowly began to pump his cock, even as he was hard as hells. Your touch, even just a nudge or your fingers brushing, felt like lightning, like something otherworldly was deigning to caress his very mortal skin. Your eyes, so delicious and darkened drank in his expression, his slow, shallow breaths as you continued to practically fucking play with him, like a mouse under your claw. 

“Don’t tease me.” He murmured, low and throaty, just for the two of you and you just smiled your wicked grin. 

Instead of heeding his request, you leaned down, as if to press a kiss to his chapped lips, and he raised his head to meet your kiss, but instead of something soft, he felt your teeth bite down. Splitting his bottom lip and letting his own blood trickle into your mouth. Even with just a few seconds of your lips against his even with the pain of being bitten, he missed it the second you pulled away. You firmly pushed him back down, but the ache from slamming his head against the stone altar was muted, when you refused to let up on massaging his cock, the pleasure seeping into his veins like poison. 

“Fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, wanting to lean his head back and shut his eyes, but there was something deeply magnetic lingering in your eyes that made it impossible for him to ever look away. 

You yourself slowly grinded against his thigh, enjoying the way the Chosen of Bane squirmed like a rodent caught in a trap. Shame he was such a charming rodent, one that nosed against your ear and chittered oh so invitingly. Your older brother hated the scurrying little things so, he used to take you aside as a child, and whisper to you exactly how to catch them, and then make them squeal. But this rodent, with his nice dark coat and fiendish eyes, the one who squirms so nice in your hand? He seems a bit too cute to crush. 

Especially with the way he was panting low and hard, his tongue dragging over his teeth. Blood smeared over his mouth and chin, and his clothes were stained similarly. Delicious. 

“Just let me fuck you already.” He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into your bare, bloodied thighs. 

“Oh, that’s cute.” You murmured, low and heady in the way he adores so, at least in his room with the servants sent home for the day. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the tone. “This is about restraint. Submission.” 

Gortash hissed through his teeth again, but said nothing, just drank the sight of you in. You finally took pity, with his hungry, desperate eyes that you usually only saw at the meetings, with maps strewn across the table, as he talked about the plans for the future. It’s also a look that he used to give you when you two first met. Raising your hands to his lips and kissing the knuckles, eyes boring into you. It’s a look that grew in intensity each time you met, until the night he got you alone finally, dragging his hand greedily over your side as he leaned in to kiss your throat. You’d thought it would end up diminishing but it never did. It quietened at times, but he had the look of an addict waiting for his next fix. 

Finally shifting up, you pressed his leaking cockhead against your hole. Enver could feel it slicked with blood, but his mind raced with thoughts about you getting ready for the ritual, writing out the letter inviting him down as you slowly fingered yourself, lubed up to your knuckles and imagining him. Or Thorm, since apparently he was also an option. Thank the Gods that the sight of you dipped head to toe in blood was far more arousing than that intrusive thought, otherwise he might have gone soft. No doubt if you two were ever having sex and he lost his erection, you’d butcher him right then and there. 

No, just his cockhead slipping inside of you had him struggling to concentrate, the chanting beginning to rise in volume again. Gortash couldn’t even figure out the words, it just made his head spin. 

You just watched him try to breathe slowly and evenly as you enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you before you slammed your hips down, making him bottom out inside of you. His cock was your favorite, no doubt about it. Out of all the ones you’ve seen, flaccid and puckered in death as your followers stripped them of their belongings, hard and ready for the select lovers you picked out, unaware that they were bedding a spawn of Bhaal, his remained the best. Maybe it was because he was one of the few madmen ready to stick their dick in the God of Murder’s child, maybe it was because it was curved in a way that hit just right deep inside of you. Or maybe he was one of the few men that had the talent to back up their bragging mouth. 

Gortash couldn’t help but thrust upwards, into you, basking in the whorish sounds of your moans. Your fingers dug into the section of his exposed chest, beginning to ride him in earnest, as if there weren't the cultists watching without heat to their eyes, as if watching you do your daily chores. Wasn’t exactly a turn on, Enver thought grimly, though if you would just let him finally take you to the brothel and allow at least the prostitutes to admire the amazing work you two put into having disgustingly dirty sex. 

You rode him roughly, just watching as he struggled to look away from you, his own blunt nails digging into your thighs even more, as if trying to make sure to keep you there. Blood coated his cock as he thrusted up into you the wet slapping of skin against crimson glazed skin echoing throughout the room, the chanting drowning out your shared sighs and moans. 

Fuck, it felt too good. He was dying to fondle your chest, pinch your nipples till they were all sore and puffy and so cute. The only downsides that he could only be half sure that you wouldn’t cut off his hand for touching anywhere other than your perfect fucking thighs. The blood was slowly drying on you, the glimmering sheen giving way to a dark matte look, pieces flaking off. You looked fucking perfect. 

Gortash was clinging onto the edge, concentrating on not cumming before you did, but you wouldn’t be one of his favorite pieces of ass if you couldn’t see through him as if he was made of glass. With a nasty smirk, you leaned down again, mid bounce and kissed him right on the mouth, swearing the blood from his bitten lip. It was too much at that point. He was not some virgin who came from kissing, but fuck. Fuck. 

He arched his back, pressing his cock deep inside of you as he came, filling you up till it began to drip out, along your bloodied thighs. You sighed, low and soft, tensing up around him to the point the poor fuck was seeing stars. The chanting slowly eased off into the casual hum of conversation, as you slowly slipped the Lord out of you, letting his cum spill out freely. 

The cultists dispersed among themselves and back into the alternating halls as Gortash slowly regained his breath and sat up. 

“A little head’s up would have been greatly appreciated.” He grumbled, hiking his trousers back up and tucking his softening cock away. 

“And miss out on the chance of you chickening out?” 

“I’d never.” He finally sat up and watched as the cum slipped down your legs to the floor, mixing with the blood to make a soft pink color. “... But if I did fail to show, any particular person you’d have picked?” 

“Probably would have grabbed a random guy. Like the one who loves to skin people while they’re dying.” 

Gortash quietly made a note to have that certain one jailed for some other thing as you stretched and glanced back at him. 

“I need company as I bathe.” 

You, of course, would never ask him to give you company as you washed yourself of all the blood and cum, but who was he to say no to such an appealing command? 

[callsign-rogueone]

what was I made for? - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader (continuation of keep her safe) The aftermath of War Games has you questioning your purpose, and what your signet truly is. wc: 4.4k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS (I have 50 pages left, but I just can’t do it. send help.) canon-level violence, injury, canon character death, self doubt, anxiety. oops, I made Dain tolerable again. angst, then happy, then more angst. I also skipped over a smut scene / just made a reference to it happening, so if anyone wants that as a separate post, lmk and I can make it happen 👀 thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on part 1! it means a lot to me 🫶

Riorson House is more your home than Basgiath ever has been, but it’s become foreign to you in the three years you’d spent at the college. It feels like you’re hallucinating as you wander the halls.

Maybe everything that’s happened in the last few days has been a hallucination -- it wouldn't be the first time Varrish or Carr had pushed you to delirium with the amount of pain you’d taken for others.

Maybe it’s a dream. That’s it. A really bad dream. Any moment now, you’re going to wake up in Garrick’s bed and get ready for morning formation, and you’ll forget the sight of Liam dying by breakfast, when you’re sitting across from him at the table like you always do. Violet’s screams of pain will stop playing in your ears, replaced by her laughter at one of Ridoc’s jokes.

But no matter how much you pinch at your skin, you aren’t waking up. This is reality.

“I hear you’re a mender, too,” someone says in a gentle voice, bringing you out of your daze. Violet’s brother, Brennan.

“Does it ever get easier?” You ask quietly. “Does it always hurt this much?”

“Mending becomes easier. Seeing that kind of stuff every day doesn’t,” he replies, and the exhausted look on his face tells you he’s being honest. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me more about that.”

“The second person I mended was a scribe who’d fallen from a ladder in the library and broken her leg. I did everything right, the bone set properly, but my leg hurt for a week, right where she’d broken hers.”

Brennan is silent, letting you continue.

“They broke Garrick’s arm in RSC. I was able to fix it for him, and I took the pain, but they broke it again two hours later. I mended him and Xaden over and over until I collapsed. I didn’t wake for two days. They both still think it was just exhausting for me. They don’t know about the pain.”

The tears are coming openly now, dripping down your cheeks, and you bring a hand up to wipe them away with the sleeve of your flight jacket. “But it isn’t all bad. I couldn’t save Liam, but I was able to make him more comfortable in the end. I took his pain away, and let him go in peace.”

You don’t tell him what death feels like. No description you could give could adequately prepare anyone for the cold sensation that still lingers in your chest. It will likely remain there for the next few days.

“Hey,” he says softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, just try to get some rest.” 

You nod quietly, looking back up at him. “Can someone please tell Garrick that I’m okay?” You ask in a small voice, folding your hands in your lap. You’d been heartbroken to realize that the rest of the squad had left for Basgiath before you woke, leaving you here alone.

You didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them, and you don’t know when you’ll see them again. Or if you’ll see them, you think, but you push the thought away quickly. They’ll survive. They have to.

Brennan cracks a smile - everyone in the rebel cause is aware of how deeply Garrick loves you. “Of course.”

———————————————————————

“Cadet Mairi died alongside his dragon, who was attacked by a drift of Gryphon riders. Cadet Avan attempted to mend them, and died trying,” Xaden says levelly, staring down the group of professors on the dais. “They both died honorable, but preventable deaths.”

Garrick knows Xaden is lying, knows you aren’t dead — or you hadn’t been when they left for Basgiath, at least, but his friend’s words have him on edge. Have you woken up yet? 

Chradh speaks into his mind, sending a wave of hot rage through him. “Relax.”

“Relax?” He echoes, irate. “You’re telling me to relax right now, when-”

Chradh doesn’t bother to argue with him. “She is safe under the care of the silver one’s brother, where she will remain until the moment is right. It is better this way. She won’t be in pain anymore.”

Chradh doesn’t elaborate further. Fucking dragons and their constant need to speak in riddles.

The rest of the quadrant spends the night drinking and congratulating themselves on surviving, but Garrick doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. The three of you were supposed to do this together. It wouldn’t be right to celebrate without you.

———————————————————————

“We’re gonna start from square one, with something that can’t hurt you,” Brennan says, placing two halves of a cracked plate on the table in front of you.

It’s simple enough to make the pieces rise into the air, using the same magic required to make a pen write for you. You concentrate, willing the halves to fuse together. They touch, and you think you’ve done it, your heart leaping, only to fall as they crash back down to the table again, splitting into even more pieces.

Brennan touches one of the shards, and they glue themselves back together perfectly; no cracks, no trace of the plate ever having been broken. “That’s what I thought.”

“Let me keep trying,” you begin, heart pounding. Brennan can’t think you’re a failure, not this early.

“You could sit here with this plate all day and it wouldn’t change,” he says gently, confirming what you know deep down. “I don’t think you’re a mender. I think you’re something else entirely.”

You sit with the information for a moment.

“Signets take the form of our base need as a person,” he says. “We need to find out what that is for you.”

You already know. “I wake up every day grateful that Xaden bargained for our lives, but I have done too much harm in my time at Basgiath. The crown has done too much harm to Tyrrendor. All I’ve ever wished for is to fix that, to undo the pain.”

“To undo the pain, or to help move forward and grow?” He asks gently.

You aren’t sure.

———————————————————————

You go through your morning stretches, as always, focusing on your breath to distract from the pain in your side. 

“Your mate has returned.” Tab says, interrupting. “Thought you’d like to know.”

You bolt upright, running through the house toward the gates, bypassing Xaden to sprint straight toward Garrick.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You still fit together like puzzle pieces, even after months apart.

“You’re alive,” you breathe. “Nobody would tell me anything, I was worried sick,”

“Of course I’m alive, angel. Had to come back to you.”

You trace the Lieutenant’s patch across his collarbone, memorizing the shape. It looks natural on him, like it’s always been there. It sounds good, too. Lieutenant Garrick Tavis.

“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about-“

Footsteps approach. “Sorry to break up the reunion,” Felix says, “but Avan, we need you.”

There’s something in his tone that has your heart pounding. Which of your friends is it going to be this time?

“Tell me later,” Garrick says. “Go. Do what you were made to do.”

You know he means well, but his words tie your stomach in a knot. What you were made to do. Were you truly made to endure the suffering of others?

———————————————————————

Every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire as you slump into a chair, sitting down for the first time that day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get some sleep before you’re needed again.

“There you are. I didn’t see you in battle brief.” Garrick says, relieved.

“Haven’t been going,” you mumble. “They need me here. Bren’s teaching now, so s’ just me and one other mender.”

He realizes no healers had come with the riot from Basgiath. You likely haven’t left the infirmary since they’d arrived.

“Come to bed,” he coaxes softly. “You need sleep. You can't pour from an empty cup.”

Yes, you can. You have been for months.

He takes your hand, not giving you a choice. You lean into him as he leads you up the grand staircase to a room near Xaden’s. Your muscles protest every step, but you keep quiet.

You haven’t been in here for years, not since you’d left for Basgiath as candidates, but it’s exactly the same as you remember; dark drapery, bookshelves, a neat display of the knives that he hadn’t taken to school with him.

The sight has you in tears.

“Whoa, hey,” he says softly, pulling you closer, and you whimper in pain at the pressure against your ribs. He lets go immediately. “Angel, I’m sorry — are you hurt?”

You sob, the dam finally breaking and grief flooding out of you. You haven’t seen each other since that horrible day, you haven’t seen anyone from the squad you went with to Resson, haven’t had anyone to talk about it with, until now. 

You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t save Liam. I tried, I really did. All I could do was take his pain away.”

So Xaden had told Basgiath the truth, to some degree: you tried to fix Liam, and couldn’t. The boy’s death had hurt you badly enough that Xaden wouldn’t let you return to the school.

“There was nothing else you could do. Nobody could save him, not after Deigh…”

“I know that, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone I’ve ever… fixed, I’ve taken the pain from their body into mine, and I can’t get rid of it for days.”

Garrick’s heart breaks. So that’s what Chradh meant when he said you wouldn’t be in pain anymore if you left Basgiath. Those eight-hour days of mending infantry may as well have been torture for you. 

Torture. RSC. You’d healed his wounds, Xaden’s, Bodhi’s, Violet’s, time and time again without complaint, and he knew it took a lot out of you, but not that it hurt. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known…”

“I wanted to,” you sniffle, “I wanted to tell you a year ago when it started happening. I thought it was normal, that I was just weak, until Brennan told me that this doesn’t happen to him. He just gets tired, like everyone else does when they use their signets too much.”

You try to steady your breathing, but the pain in your not-broken ribs is too overwhelming. “I’ve spent hours practicing and I can’t even fix a broken plate. I’m not a mender. I don’t know what I am. Nobody does, not even the professors. Brennan thinks it’s getting better, but I don’t have it in me to tell him that it isn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He wants to pull you into an embrace, wants to stroke your hair and tell you it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“S’ not your fault.” You sniff.

“But it’s not yours, either,” he reminds you gently. “You’re so strong, angel. You crossed the parapet, ran the gauntlet, you bonded a dragon, and you’ve endured everything else. Please don’t ever think for a second that you’re weak.”

He takes your hand in his, watching your face carefully, but you don’t wince at the touch. “We’ll talk to Brennan tomorrow, together. For now, I just want you to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod silently, having run out of tears.

“Attagirl.”

As you settle into bed next to him, freshly showered and wearing one of his warm sweaters, you swear the pain has dimmed.

———————————————————————

When Garrick takes you to see Brennan the next morning, he isn’t alone. Your professors are seated beside him, along with some of the Tyrrish elders.

Devera speaks first. “We owe you an apology, Cadet Avan. The faculty was unaware that Carr and Varrish were using your signet as a method of punishment, or that it pains you to use it.”

“And I owe you an apology,” you say quietly. “I should have come back after the War Games.”

“That was my decision,” Xaden says firmly, “and I stand by it. She was in no condition to return to the school, much less to graduate and be stationed at an outpost across the continent from her support system, while still feeling the coldness of Cadet Mairi’s death.”

How does he know that you could feel it? Had you told him in your delirium? Had Brennan told him? Had you even told Brennan? 

“Your friends have effectively plead your case, and we agree that you have satisfied all the requirements for graduation from the Rider’s Quadrant.” Emeterrio says. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Garrick slips your flight jacket onto your shoulders, and you notice the Lieutenant insignia has already been sewn on, to match his. When did he…? 

You accept the handshake Devera offers you, still a little dazed, but there’s one more order of business to address.

“May I rejoin my old squad?” You ask the table of professors quietly. “They are family to me. I would like to ride with them again, and aid them however I can.”

They exchange hesitant looks, and your heart sinks. Do they not think you’re good enough?

“I don’t see why not,” Brennan says firmly enough for everyone else to agree — he outranks the professors with the years he’s been part of the movement.

You exhale in relief.

Garrick cheers. “The dream team is back, baby!” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, knowing you’re still in pain, but wanting to hold you close.

You laugh, not minding the ache in your ribs.

Xaden is unimpressed. “When have we ever once called ourselves the dream team?”

“We haven’t, but I’m starting now. It’ll stick. I’ll have it embroidered on your flight jacket, Xay.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xaden replies, setting off a brotherly argument behind you.

You look to the leadership once more, bowing your head in respect. “Thank you. For everything.”

Devera gives you a warm smile. “I am glad to see you have found your place here, Lieutenant. Remember that your empathy is a gift, even in times of war.”

Empathy.

“Am I dismissed?” You ask.

“Yes, Lieutenants, you are all dismissed,” Emeterrio answers dryly, looking over your shoulder at Garrick and Xaden. The latter has the former in a playful headlock, messing up his hair. 

“Human boys,” Tab says, exasperated. You laugh in agreement, leaving them in the Assembly room to sort themselves out.

It’s easy enough to find who you’re looking for — he’s the only person sitting completely alone in the mess, a textbook open in front of him that he isn’t reading. He’s gazing into the distance, eyes unfocused, but he looks up when he realizes you’re standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “about what I saw in Varrish’s office. I had no idea how much you all have endured. What we are taught in Navarre is only one side of the story, but you showed me the other.”

“I’m glad I could help change your mind.”

He reaches into the pocket of his flight jacket and extends a hand. Your protection rune sits in his palm, complete with a new leather cord. “A peace offering. I stole it back from Varrish, and Brennan mended it.”

You smile, taking it from him and slipping it back over your head. “You’re turning into quite the rule-breaker, Aetos. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”

You’re about to leave, but something compels you to impart a piece of advice. “I know how it feels when people don’t want to trust you because of your family history. It’ll take a while for some of them to warm up to you, but you can make it go a lot faster if you keep yourself out of trouble.”

———————————————————————

Your first flight back with your squad is supposed to be easy, a surveying flight with a small riot, just to check their perimeters, but you can’t seem to quell your anxiety as you take off.

“We will be fine, gentle one. We’re in strong company,” Tab reassures. He stays close to Chradh, knowing Garrick’s proximity will calm you. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Good. I’ve missed this.”

“You have always enjoyed being up this high,” he agrees. “Shall we review some of our basic maneuvers?”

“Sure.”  Maybe that will settle your nerves.

“Hold on.” Tab dips, practicing all the angles — banking right, left, up, down.

“Something is wrong,” you blurt, and Tab straightens his path immediately, falling back into the formation. Every nerve in your body pulses with a sensation you’ve never felt before, standing on end. “Something really bad is going to happen.”

You’re right.

“Wyvern,” Tab warns just as they come into your line of sight. They charge straight at the front of the riot, where Sgaeyl leads the pack. 

You’re outmatched, nearly two dozen of them and only ten of you. You’re going to die here. At least you’ll be with your best friends.

“That kind of thinking isn’t helpful!” Tab scolds, tightening the formation. 

One gets too close for comfort, spewing blue flame, and Chradh banks hard - too hard. You gasp in horror as Garrick is thrown from his seat down to the ground below.

“Dive!” You yell, and Tab follows without hesitation, making a near-vertical drop.

You’ve never been so grateful for the running landing they’d taught you last year. It had been excruciating to execute on top of the pain of unbroken bones, but it’s just manageable now after a few days off from the infirmary.

Clutching Failsafe for dear life, your only defense, you sprint toward Garrick’s limp body, ripping off your goggles.

His heart still beats, but multiple bones look broken, his breathing labored. Touching him is almost unbearable, which tells you he won’t last much longer if you don’t do something.

Deep breaths, like Brennan had taught you, to accept their pain as it entered your body, holding it before batting it away like a fly.

You still haven’t figured out how to make that work.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you start to berate yourself; Why can’t you do this? Compose yourself. Garrick is going to die if you can’t pull it together. Garrick is going to die, just like Liam did, because you aren’t strong enough to fix a fucking plate.

Anger overcomes you for the first time since you’d watched your parents die six years ago. You scream, a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before splitting the air. The pain dissipates almost instantly. For the first time in two years, your body isn’t aching, and you sob in relief.

Garrick bolts upright, gasping for breath as spring blooms across the snowy plain, trees with bare branches suddenly teeming with green leaves.

Tab roars in pride and the rest of the riot joins in, the cliffs shaking from the volume of their celebration. 

“Lifebringer!” He thunders into your mind. 

Your head snaps upward, and you realize that the ground is littered with motionless wyvern.

Garrick pulls you to your feet, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “Come on, angel,” he says, grinning, “we have a war to win.”

You’re still dazed as Tab brings you back to Riorson house, Garrick helping you dismount and leading you inside.

“We have a weapon,” Xaden says, actually smiling as he faces the assembly. “Something, someone, that can destroy wyvern in their tracks.”

Garrick keeps you glued to his side as Xaden tells the elders what happened, but it’s all in one ear, out the other.

You’re dismissed after a few minutes, heading back out to the mess, where your friends gather around one of the large tables in the library.

“Tab called me lifebringer,” you say, confused. “What is that?”

“I thought it was just folklore,” Violet says from a few rows down, scanning the shelves, and everyone turns to her, listening. “Lifebringers are said to influence healing and growth. In some cultures, they’ve been credited with ending famines by rejuvenating harvests, and saving the innocent from the grasp of Malek and his Death.”

“Wicked,” Ridoc appraises quietly.

“Aha.” Violet produces a thin volume, cracking it open to the right page. The illustration there looks uncannily like you.

“Only the purest of heart can be lifebringers, those who hold no malice toward their fellow man. The weapons they carry are sharp, but unused,” she reads aloud. “Garrick gave you Failsafe as just that — a failsafe. You never drew blood with it. You never hurt anyone except in challenges, when it was kill or be killed, and even then you held back.”

Bodhi speaks next. “With most signets, the stronger the wielder’s emotion, the more powerful the ability becomes. You feel empathy for the wounded, so you can fix them and ease their pain, but when you thought Garrick was going to die, that was another level of distress, and I guess it was enough to overcome the dark magic.” 

Garrick squeezes your shoulder in reassurance that he’s still very much alive beside you.

Violet closes the book, setting it down.

“I’m not in pain anymore,” you whisper, still dazed. You’ve almost forgotten what that feels like, having spent the last three years holding both your own and that of all your friends.

“You needed an outlet,” Xaden says. “Pain makes it harder to channel, and you were in pain 24/7, which is why the professors thought your signet was underdeveloped. Getting angry, and getting that energy out of your body allowed you to use the full extent of your power.”

“If I had known this earlier, do you think I could have…” you don’t finish the sentence. Everyone in this room knows how hard you’d tried to save Liam.

“Maybe,” Violet says quietly, “but that is not a path you want to go down. Trust me.”

———————————————————————

“Do you want to explain why the hallway was full of sunflowers when I went to bed last night?” Xaden asks slyly, dropping into a seat in front of you with a plate of eggs and bacon.

You burn with embarrassment.

Bodhi grins. “You see, cousin, when a man and a woman love each other very much, - ow, fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head where Garrick had whacked him.

“At least they didn’t set the vale on fire,” another of your squadmates says, looking at Xaden and Violet pointedly. “You still owe me for putting that out, by the way.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. “So all that dry lightning last year was you two…”

“Okay, changing the subject!” Brennan says loudly, not liking the way this conversation is headed. “We need to figure out how to use your signet without endangering Tavis’s life again.”

“Well, it sounds like they already found another way,” Ridoc says, grinning, but he squeaks out an apology as Garrick begins to rise from his chair.

You tug your boyfriend back into his seat by the sleeve, looking past him at Brennan. “I think I need to work a few days in the infirmary between flights,” you propose. “If I build up enough pain, I could probably-“

“NO,” the whole squad says at once, Tab included.

“Your healing is only to be used when absolutely necessary,” Xaden orders, and even though you’re on equal footing now, both newly-minted Lieutenants, you agree quietly without protest.

“See, that’s your problem,” Sloane says, and all eyes turn to her. “You defer to literally everyone. You’re an officer now. Act like it.”

“Pardon?” You ask, looking at her in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what she’s talking about,” Imogen cuts in. “Pardon? You can’t even discipline a first-year cadet. Do you really think any veteran rider will ever listen to what you have to say?”

“Enough,” you say firmly, your nails digging into the wood.

None of your friends intervene, not even Brennan. This has to be another nightmare. There’s no way they'd hang you out to dry like this. Right?

Sloane isn’t finished. “It’s a miracle you made it out of Basgiath alive. You’re too soft. If you won’t kill anyone, what are you going to do when it’s between your life or someone else’s? Their life or his?”

The mention of Garrick is your last straw. “That is enough from both of you, Cadets,” you reprimand. Thorny vines burst from the seams of the table, whipping out toward them, and they stagger back to avoid being cut.

You startle, your heart pounding against your ribs as you realize what you’ve done.

Sloane is the first to apologize. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean any of it. I just thought that provoking you might…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, looking down at the still-twitching vines covering the tabletop.

“We definitely took it too far,” Imogen adds, sounding genuinely remorseful. “That was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”

Bodhi waves a hand, and the vines slither back into the table, as if they were never there. 

Your eyes widen at the blood on his cheeks — he’d been caught in the crossfire. You touch his face with a shaky hand, only brushing your fingertips across the skin, and the scratches disappear instantly, leaving no trace of the harm you’d done.

Somehow that makes you feel worse.

“Well,” Garrick says in his section-leader voice, “that was certainly informative, but none of you are to ever disrespect her like that again. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” both girls answer quietly, heads lowered in shame.

Your breathing has steadied enough to speak. “I understand why you did that, but I’m not going to tell you that it was okay, because it wasn’t.”

With that, you take your plate and leave. Nobody follows you.

———————————————————————

The balcony door slides open, soft footsteps approaching.

“I want to be alone, Gare,” you say quietly. 

“Not Garrick,” Xaden replies, settling down next to you on the stone floor, “and you may want to be alone right now, but you probably shouldn’t be.”

“I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Xay. You know that,” you whisper. You don’t move your gaze from the potted plant in front of you, as if you’re worried it will lash out at you — or him — if you turn away.

“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales deeply, a gentle cloud forming with the warmth of his breath. 

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks again, just the sound of the cold wind over the valley and the distant footsteps of cadets running on the trail below. “Working through this is not going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You’ve come to hate that notion, everyone’s insistence that the pain you’ve been through has primed you for more pain, different pain. Why can’t it ever end?

[amnesique]

Hey I love your Nick work could you do one where reader and him are cuddling and Thro wants in and they go for a drive 🥰

stupidly in love — nicholas leister

i'm not sure if that's what you meant by going for a drive, but i hope you like it either way. also, thank u so much, i'm glad you enjoyed my work <33 (wasn't proofread)

you and nick were watching a movie, in his room, with the door closed, in case the movie would end up being the one watching you.

you sat on his bed, in his arms, resting on his chest while he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you so close to him so that he can inhale your perfume and place small kisses on your bare shoulders from time to time, which distracted you from to the action of the movie.

“stop,” you scolded him in a whisper, between weak giggles, as you pulled back a little to stop his lips from making direct contact with your skin.

the voices of the characters could be heard in the background, but nick hadn't been paying attention to the action for several minutes. being so close to you was a distraction.

"stop what?" he whispered in your ear and you felt a thrill of excitement runing up your spine, as he managed to kiss you, despite your fake resistance.

"that," you replied, as he kissed you once more, and you sighed on the one hand disappointed that the movie you put on wasn't being taken seriously, and on the other hand because you were trying to hold back so you wouldn't be the one who takes the situation to the next level.

he turned your head towards him with one of his hands, continuing to hold your waist with the other, and asked you, with his lips very close to yours, "something wrong?"

a faint sound, that was at first meant to say that everything was fine, leaves your lips over his, and he grins, being pleased with the effect he had on you.

when, from beyond the door, a dog's voice was repeatedly heard, asking to be let inside.

"is that thor?" you whispered to nick, just as he pushed your hair back to get closer to your neck area.

you were both silent for a few seconds, seconds of that sound repeating, and then he hastened to approach your neck, and you had to bite your lip to keep quiet. "he can wait," nick said, then started to place kisses on your neck.

but the dog didn't stop.

"nick," you murmured weakly and pulled away, trying to make it harder for him to reach your neck. "nick," you repeated a little louder when you saw that he wasn't giving up.

he pulled back, acting as he was mad and he stared at the door with unreadable eyes.

"go open the door for him,” you encouraged your boyfriend and you got off of him so he could get off the bed, but his gaze was back on you. "nick," you whispered his name once again, in a bit louder tone.

he grumbled, but stood up eventually and opened the door for thor, who immediately changed his mood and started looking around the room, wagging his tail when he saw you.

"he'll have to make it up to me," nick told you referring to thor, but you knew he wasn't being serious so you laughed as you called the dog over to you. he came to the edge of the bed and let himself be caressed by you.

nick moved closer to you, running his palm over his dog's ridge as well and then he kissed you chastely on the lips, sitting down next to you and watching you with a smile on his face as you looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"i was a little jealous of him," he shrugged, "but it's gone now."

you rolled your eyes, laughing, and continued to gently carres thor, taking advantage of the opportunity he had given you.

as usual, this occasion didn't last long as the dog walked past you, rushing towards the exit to the balcony and looking out, while barking to get both of your attention.

"i think he got bored of staying in the house," you said out loud what you were both thinking and nick approved, placing his hand over your thigh, because of his instinct to always touch you. "maybe we should take him for a drive," you came up with the idea and put your hand over your boyfriend's hand, smiling innocently at him. you knew you could easily convince him.

"a drive?" he repeated after you, looking at the dog, that continued to bark at what he saw through the window. "as in driving him with my car?" he continued, his over-the-top car lover side taking over.

"oh, please," you said and squeezed his palm between yours, looking at him with pleading eyes. "you always see puppies sticking their heads out the window, while accompanying their owners in the car."

"ok," he gave in, overwhelmed by your plea and his desire to please you being somehow bigger than his love for his car.

"for real?" you asked, looking at him in shock and with a not-so-subtle smile, knowing you got what you wanted so quickly.

he nodded his approval, stood up from beside you, and took his keys from the bedside table, holding out his hand to you as he spoke to thor, "let's go, boy," he said as you stood up and caught his hand, "we'll please your beautiful co-owner and we'll take you out for a drive," he added as he called the dog to follow you out of his room, into the hall of the house.

you couldn't be happier than that, being with nick leister and having the opportunity not only to be loved by him, but also to spend time with his wonderful large staffordshire terrier dog, thor.

[blingblong55]

Serving your master- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

This is based on a request:

Ok but.. as I read the title to the latest fic “Starving” I thought it said “Serving.” Can you imagine? Poor little sub reader doing whatever our sweet Lieutenant wants. He wants to use your throat? Yes sir. He wants a nice home cooked meal? Yes sir. He wants to bend you over the table to go chasing after his own pleasure? Yes sir.

F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, Sub!reader, Dom!Ghost, housewife!reader, manhandling, (all topics done/said are consensual), masochism,

A/N: voted to be posted first 2/3 votes...so here ya go

A while ago, Simon and you started this new and exciting part of your sexual life. You two started things slowly, first it was him commanding you to kiss him, then slowly undress, this all started off with simple requests. Your needs were no longer his priority...well at times they weren't. If you let another man think you were single, you'd have to get on your knees, ready for his mercy. He takes his wedding ring off and slaps you across the face, each time a little harder, his little toy has been letting other men see her? yeah, he will not have any of that.

It has been months since you two started this Sub and Dom relationship, you both enjoyed it, it was the time when you can have your wildest fantasies made, be treated poorly by him but still be loved. How you loved when he took control, never letting you think for yourself. And how he loved when he'd watch you cry from pain, begging to be hurt more and how easily he complied.

-- A collar on your neck, "Crawl to bed, like the good girl you are." his voice rough and low. You nod, skirt lifting up every now and then when you'd move, his hand prints from minutes ago on your bare ass. You were always at home, so he only allowed you to wear revealing clothes. If you cooked or cleaned, it'd be only when he told you to do so. --

"Make me food, my little toy" his voice soft. He never knew you were into this, letting him be more than a Dom, over doing your role as his wife and his favourite little toy. You were in the kitchen, a somewhat tight skirt on you, hickeys on your legs as you made him lunch. He leaned against the wall, a smirk on him as he watched you make him lunch. -- "Fuckin' listen to me," another slap to your face, "been such a naughty little thing," and another slap. You plead, begging to be touched, but all he does is tie you up whilst you cry. Legs shaking from the quickie you two had in the coffee shop. The car ride back home he made you give him head, thats the reason why your lipstick is smudged and why your mascara was proof enough you have to buy waterproof when with him. -- "She'll have the pasta carbonara," he looked at the waiter and dismissed him. "I actually wanted the-" he gave you a stern look. "never think for yourself, I do that now." was a sentence he had mentioned when you two made the rules for this side of the marriage. He wasn't so controlling, only when he knew you'd be looking at him, pleading him to control you, happened every other day though. -- One night, you had to use your safe word, he had been manhandling you. Tossing you on the bed, slapping and spitting on you. "Fuckin' tight." his hips slammed against your bare ass. The pain was always easy to take and so were his words. You both are masochists, always getting off on the pleasure the wax, life on your skin brought you both. How he would lick the small trails of blood that the knife would bring. But that night he pushed it too hard. He drags orgasms over and over, but you were too sensitive, feeling a little sick and his constant ass slaps weren't helping. "Starfish." you softly say as tears run down. He immediately pulls out, unties you and carries you upstairs and into bed. The entire time he kept apologising.

"I'm sorry, love." he cuddled to you, your back to him. He leaned over and wipes the tears off. "...it hurt a little more than the other times.." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away that much.." -- Days when he came back after being gone for months and his missions wouldn't go right, he'd fuck his anger out on you. You'd go and pick him up, as always in your tight shirt and short skirt, he would get in the driver seat, you back to being his passenger princess. He would finger you, lick his fingers and park at some empty place. Take you to the backseat and start to undress you. You weren't aloud to speak, just watch as he undressed you. His fingers in you, his other free hand pressing your stomach, making you scream his name. Eyes shut as he kept finger fucking you. Your wet cunt leaking on his fingers, he would every now and then make you taste yourself. His spit on your thighs, your cheeks red from his slaps, your freshly changed nipple piercings digging a little into your skin, causing that masochist in you to be pleased. -- When you would ride it, he made sure to have your leash at his fist, just in case. Your hands on his neck, choking him lightly, dragging moans and various orgasms from him. He'd slap your face every now and then. He'd pull the leash when he'd tell you to behave, "shut it, I don't need your moans right now." But you didn't listen, you chased your own pleasure. He pulled more, choking you a little, turning you on even more. "I said shut it," a slap to your bare and sensitive tits. Cum leaking from the bouncing, he easily came four times. -- A/N: Not much of a full story...but snippets of your life as his whore...I mean sub :) Better thank me for feeding you, ya nasty whores😝

[melodyfsoul1]

BOLAS ROJAS 🔴

Made some Gas Mask Designs for the Red Team because their aesthetic is just amazing

Its kinda messy and I may change some details in the future, but this is the basic idea I have so far :D

Carre, Charlie & Cellbit all have variations of the "classic" gas mask.

For Carre I chose a more sleek, sporty?- design with a visor because I think it fits his pvp vibe

Charlie has a rounder variation because his character is a goopy lil guy XD

Cellbit is a harsher/ rougher more on edge character, so I gave him a pointy, angry looking one

Phil, of course, got the plague doctor gas mask combo with the beak

For Jaiden, I at first wanted to give her one with a beak too, but I want the masks to be unique and I thought if someone's gonna enjoy the creepy but goofy fly looking mask, its Jaiden :D

Baghera got a more futuristic design that resembles a birds head, paired with a visor

And Foolish got the hooded mask with the double tube because it got this underwater vibe, and the hood matches his shark skin :DDDD

[ramons-elevator]

Something I gotta give props to Red Team/ Team Bolas is that even though they are doomed, they all are on the same page

After the first day, Etoiles mentioned and some people here said that it was kinda rough in the beginning for blue and green team, especially when picking their leaders.

Blue has Tubbo, Pierre, and Bad which are three people who would want to be leaders/know how to do things. And Tubbo and Bad having beef in the past probably didnt help.

Green team has Forever, Bagi, Etoiles, and Quackity who are again are people who want to be leaders/know how to do things. But also add Max and Antoine who can be silly, but also know how to do things, it probably got messy (keep in mind that i only heard from other ppl)

Then we have Red team, who knows they are fucked. They have Philza, Baghera, Cellbit, and Foolish who are great leaders, but they know that this is survival/PvP. If I remember right that they were kinda like “uh so Philza or Cellbit?” and was the first team to pick their name and leader.

Then after that, they all communicated and just let each other do their thing which I think really helped. Foolish mentioned this after with Tina that they didnt try to tell each other what to do or become actual leaders. They just were like “hey imma make some bread.” “Okay im in the ocean looking for ships” etc etc

Also Slime being a strategist and jumping into other peoples calls was so smart and playing to his element. And as soon as they realized that Carre was a god at PvP, they cheered him on and Cellbit helped communicate with Carre more clearly. Philza using his Minecraft knowledge and scouting for world generated boats and stuff to get more loot and telling everyone.

They all let each other do what they want and played to their strengths. It probably helped that it was a small team and in terms of lore, the characters had things conflicting with each other, but they still respected each other highly.

And when it came down to them fucking giving up, they were 100% on board and even wanted to change their skins and just roleplay it out. They stated over and over again, they didnt want to break up the team at all. They know they were fucked, but didn’t want anything to change.

I need to watch the other Povs to see the other teams, but goddamn. Team Bolas my beloveds. I hope they fucking lose it and get worse <3