#and this has been such a nice distraction

[muwapsturniolo]

Nipple or Tip ( • )( • ) C. Sturniolo

"I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks-"

⟢ funny shit tbh. nipples and tips of dick are mentioned as well as balls. chris being unhinged in ulta, reader done with his bs but also down with his bs.

dividers by the one and only rose toy @bernardsbendystraws

You were a beauty lover, it was well known by everyone in your life. When you were a kid, you were constantly in your moms makeup bag, messing up her high-priced lipsticks and eyeshadows on a daily basis.

As you got older, that love for makeup stayed.

You had a whole beauty room in your two-bedroom apartment. You had the vanity, the box lights as well as ring lights, and drawers on top of drawers filled with makeup you may not even have a chance to touch.

Chris knew of your love for makeup, he has been in you're beauty room one too many times to think otherwise. He never saw it as too much because he knew it was your way of expressing yourself - he was never the one to hate on expression.

So here he was, driving you to the place he should just invest in at this point.

Ulta.

You spent so much time there, that the workers recognize you. You have the credit card, you've racked up points, and you memorized the aisles. This was basically your third home, the first being your own and the second being Chris's.

"Alright, what do you need today?"

You proceed to go through your list as you walk inside the bright store, the sound of Billie's "Birds of a Feather" playing over the speakers. The song distracts him for a moment, but he comes back to reality hearing you say foundation.

"Wait, didn't you just get a new foundation?"

"Well...Yes, but I need another one!" He gives you a look as the two of you walk over to Wyn Beauty. "Technically, you don't need another one. You have about forty of them, but who am I to complain considering you're paying?"

It's comical to him the way you stop in your tracks, your eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean I'm paying? It's your turn to pay!"

Chris chuckles to himself, fixing the beanie on his head. "I'm just pulling your clit."

"Chris please stop fuckin' talking to me. That's not even how the damn saying goes!"

He giggles like a schoolboy and kisses your shoulder, motioning to the bright green packaging in front of you. "Go ahead and pick out your millionth foundation."

And so you do, you pick out a new foundation...and concealer, primer, setting spray, bronzer, lip gloss, and lipstick.

"Ok, now a lip liner." Your words spark Chris's interest, his mind going back to a specific video he saw not too long ago. The two of you start walking over to NYX, and he decides to fill you in on the content he consumed.

"So like, I saw this makeup video on tik- Why are you getting makeup videos on TikTok? What girl are you sending them to?"

"I'm getting them because of you, dumbass. You're the only girl that actually puts up with me, why would I talk to another one?" You snicker to yourself knowing he's right.

He's too in love with you to go find someone else.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I saw this video on TikTok where this girl was trying out these makeup hacks or secrets, whatever it's called. So she said the best way to match your lip liner is to match it to your nipples! Crazy shit, but it has me thinking, what if you matched it to the tip of my dick?"

All you could do was stare at him in silence.

"You being deadass?"

He shrugs before answering you, a smirk that shows he's up to no good making its way onto his face. "I mean, I think it would look nice on you. A nice pinky red....It's up your alley anyway considering you have a blush named 'orgasm' and a mascara called 'better than sex' ."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?" He groans and pulls you closer, his hands settling right on top of your ass. "Come on it would be funny! I will literally give you my card and let you roam in TJ Maxx and I will take you to Chili's!''

"You had me at TJ Maxx."

You whip your phone out, thanking yourself for buying a privacy screen, and begin scrolling through your privet photo albums to find a picture of Chris's dick.

"Wait, you should match one to your nipples too. Then we can compare which one looks better."

He could be so childish at times, but you were the exact same.

The two of you stand in the aisle, holding up different shades of pink and brown to your phone. Eventually, you two settle on "Rose" and "Nutmeg", the two colors being the closest you could get.

Soon the two of you are back in the car and Chris is urging you to try on both lip liners, refusing to drive until he sees them on you. You first try on the brown shade, lining your lips with ease. It was a pretty color, simple and not unusual considering you always wore brown lipliner.

You turn to Chris, asking him what he thinks. "Sexy as usual. You know I like it when you do the brown ones." You smile at his flattering words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before wiping the lip liner off. You unravel the pink liner and swipe it on, rubbing your lips together so it blends out.

"So what do we think? Nipple or tip?"

You see the way his eyes dart across your face, analyzing everything about you.

"Both look good, you know you can make everything look good. It's what I love about you." You find your cheeks getting warm, never getting used to the way he makes you feel so good, even on days when you look like a bum.

"Come on, I promised to let you roam in TJ Maxx." He puts the car in reverse and begins driving towards the retail store. The drive is quiet for the most part, nothing but music and the occasional small talk. As soon as the two of you make it to TJ Maxx, Chris turns to you before getting out of the car.

"You know, I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks where this girl put her foundation on with her boyfriend's balls."

"This the last time imma tell you to shut up talkin' to me!"

[lsunstreakerl]

using this hellsite for its intended purpose (posting smut on main)

this is technically two ficlets, but I'll be posting the second one later. for now, I gift u all 1.7k words of omegaverse, and it's actually max and esteban, omega/omega (I cannot believe I'm writing these words I am going to hell). hi yes hello mature content here. not violent just horny.

This is not any less embarrassing than Max had expected it to be, standing at Esteban's door at five in the morning. He hadn't even sent a heads up text, he'd just shown up.

He's not even sure if Ocon's in the country.

He hopes he's in the country- Max is kind of fucked otherwise, because then he's just standing in front of the door for nothing, and he's pretty sure this is preheat, but he doesn't fucking know.

His heat crisis at the airport hadn't been sexual at all. His cresting heat in his own flat in Monaco had been brutal, but tame compared to what's to come, and Max doesn't exactly have other omegas to ask.

It's not that he's scared, he just-

Well.

There's footsteps on the other side of the door, and then quiet for a moment- Esteban must be checking to see who it is.

Sure enough, the door swings open a few seconds later.

"Verstappen, what the fuck- oh shit."

Esteban smells good, is one of the things Max notes as he's being dragging inside, door shut behind him. He has a big fluffy nest on the floor of his living room, and there's an action movie paused on the screen, and-

Max is pretty sure he's talking to him.

"-aaaaaax. Hey, earth to Verstappen-"

Max blinks rapidly, and then he tips forward and buries his nose in Esteban's neck, pressed right against his scent gland.

"Ah!"

Esteban yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, and Max whines, because he smelled good and he wants more, and it's making him feel better being next to it.

"Why did you do this. Why the fuck- why did you come to me, how long have you even been an omega, what the fuck-"

Max feels a whine building in his chest, because that's a thing omegas do, and he's rapidly realizing he's going to need to get comfortable with a lot of uncomfortable things about his designation soon.

"Christ, okay- okay, come on."

Esteban is leading him into the living room, and Max hopes they're going to the nest, because Esteban's looks so good, better than anything Max has ever been able to build.

Esteban bats at his hands, gently nudging the side of Max's foot.

"Shoes, please."

Max toes them off, and then Esteban tugs him down into the nest, and it's so soft, soft and perfect, and Esteban's got this omega thing on lock.

Max immediately shifts towards Esteban, because he wants snuggles, wants the warm heat of someone else, and Esteban's scent is so nice, even if he smells concerned and bewildered at the moment.

"Right, preheat, okay. Maybe the Dutch do it differently."

Max almost wants to laugh. He has no idea how Dutch omegas nest or heat. He's never been allowed near other omegas.

Esteban sighs, and there's a begrudging type of fondness in his eyes for a moment.

"I'm doing this because I'm a good person, Max, so remember that next time you want to shove me, yes? Good. Come on, shirt off."

Esteban tugs his own shirt over his head, and Max's brain isn't quite moving at its normal pace, but he's compliant as Esteban bats at his hands, pulling Max's shirt off over his arms and shoulders before tossing it to the side somewhere.

Max just wants to snuggle.

Esteban pulls him in, letting Max settle his nose right above his scent gland, chest to chest in the nest as he pulls a blanket over them.

"You have no idea what you're doing."

Max makes a weak whimper, distracted by pressing his nose in until his brain is just a looping mantra of Esteban, Esteban, Esteban-

"Right."

Esteban kicks up a purr, and Max melts on top of him, loose muscles and head fuzzy. His throat hitches, but he can't quite make it go- still doesn't know how.

There's a nose in Max's hair, and one of Esteban's hands comes up by his neck, long fingers running down the side.

Max feels like there's a weighted blanket on his brain, making everything slow and syrupy.

He loses track of time- he's pretty sure Esteban starts his movie back up, based on the explosion noises.

Max barely even registers that he's softly grinding his hips over Esteban's thigh, only notices because Esteban's scent sweetens under his nose, and his purr gets louder.

"Max."

It's gentle, and Max makes a responding hum. His eyes are half open, not really seeing anything.

"Max, you are supposed to heat partner with an alpha."

Duh. Max would've done that, if he was out and trusted any of the alphas to handle him right- his first choice was Daniel, but he's out of the country with Scotty, and Max didn't want to interrupt their trip.

He can't exactly go to Seb.

Asking any of the garage members violates probably a million FIA policies and also the law in a few countries. Lando and George are omegas, but they're new and Max doesn't know either of them, which leaves him with Esteban. He'd shown up on a whim, even though he isn't part of the pack, because he knows he can't handle it alone.

An older, more experienced omega was the logical choice.

He doesn't realize he's whining until Esteban noses at his hair, scent wrapping around him.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me- it is okay, Max. I will help you."

Esteban hitches his thigh up and Max gasps, lightning bolts going through him at the change in angle. Long fingers run down the side of his neck before pressing down on his scent gland, and Max ruts forward, nose back in Esteban's neck. It feels good, and it smells good, and if things could stay slow and hot and nice just like this, Max might be okay with heats.

Esteban breaks that fantasy.

"Go on Max, get a good one in before your heat really hits."

Max whines softly, and Esteban sighs, hand slipping down Max's spine to settle on his lower back, helping him with the drag and slide of it all, the push-pull. Max's brain is liquid, a soft loop of sensation and feeling good.

It's not a rough orgasm by any means- it's gentle compared to others Max has had, washes through him in a way that's slow and overwhelming, leaves him collapsed against Esteban's chest, slick cooling between his thighs.

Esteban noses at him again- he's scenting him, gently pushing the side of their heads together. Max hasn't been scented by a member of the pack before- Daniel scented him regularly before he left, and Nico had done it frequently as well, but they're both gone now, and it's been a minute since anyone outside of Redbull bothered.

"You are okay with fingers? Toys? Mouth?"

Max's hips jerk again at the thought, face heating up. He nods against Esteban's neck, keeping his face hidden.

"Okay. Max, I am not set up for a heat at the moment- I need my alpha to come by with groceries, is that going to be alright?"

Esteban has an alpha? That can't be right- Max has his nose on top of Esteban's scent gland right now, there's definitely no mark here.

He noses at it pointedly, enjoying the spike is Esteban's scent at the sensation, his soft gasp.

"Don't be archaic Verstappen. I can have an alpha without having a bite. I have two, thank you very much."

Okay- Max knows the alphas of the pack significantly outnumber the omegas, but two is just greedy. His scent must change, because Esteban snorts.

"I didn't think you wanted Pierre or Charles, but if you want to share for your heat we can do that."

Max pauses for a moment. He's... actually not sure. He hasn't been with an alpha before, but if Esteban is here- if they listen to him-

Max isn't stupid. He knows his first proper heat is going to be bad, that's his consequence for being on suppressants for so long. Toys aren't going to cut it. They'll keep him from Red Heating, sure, but that's about where that ends.

He's going to be begging Esteban for something he can't give him.

Pierre isn't terrible. He's not close with the rest of the garage, and Max is pretty sure he's somehow managed to entirely miss the memo that Max is the pack omega- probably hasn't picked up on Redbull being a pack at all.

In his defense, there hasn't been a garage pack on the grid since before Max was born.

Charles- Max isn't sure how desperate a heat is going to make him, but if he ends up begging Charles to fuck him he's going to jump out the window when it's over.

Weird cresting heat induced insanity aside, Max has not once wanted anything to do with Charles. He's annoying and entitled, and Max still doesn't believe that he's actually an alpha.

He seems like the kind of guy to want to be a gentleman to an omega, which-

Charles has not once ever been gentle to Max, it's practically the foundation of their relationship, and Max isn't sure if he's going to want kindness and consideration for his heat.

He's not freaking out about it, he just-

He doesn't know.

He's whining into Esteban's neck again, a slow need starting to build deep inside of him. He wants them, he doesn't want them, he cares, he doesn't care- everything is so difficult.

Esteban rattles out another purr, scent heavy in the room. Max settles, nose full of fresh snow and eucalyptus.

He nods his head, a tiny shift, and Esteban's scent takes on a pleased note, sweet and satisfied.

"They will be good, I promise. I'll kick them out if they aren't."

Max is fairly confident that's not how that works, but maybe the French are different. Esteban slides one hand to tap at his phone as the other shifts from Max's back to the front of his hips.

"Okay?"

Max nods, and he's sure his own scent is all over the place, canting his hips up for Esteban to slide his hand down under his waistband, long fingers cool against his overheated skin.

His scent spikes again and Esteban purrs, nosing gently at him.

"It's okay, Max. It's alright, you're okay."

Everything is-

It's a lot.

Max is whining, a soft noise as Esteban works his fingers inside of him, and they're so different from Max's, feel alien inside him, but they feel good too, and Max-

Max wants to be good, wants to show Esteban that he knows how to be an omega, a good omega, even if the pack doesn't want him.

He knows it's not his strongest area- he's poured all his time and effort into racing, doesn't know what to do with himself outside of it, but this- Esteban's fingers inside him, Max's nose pressed into his neck, a slow build- this feels good. It feels right.

[xxepherr]

i have another hasan fic idea!! (if your open to requests)

reader is a popstar and releases a surprise single (like "nasty" or "positions" by ariana grande) and he reacts to it on stream and is blushing and flustered listening to it🤭

.ೃ࿐SURPRISE SINGLE

summary — in which you drop a surprise single conveniently while hasan is streaming, and that means he has to react to it on principle.

pairings — hasan piker x popstar!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — none

word count — 1750

note — i am SO open to requests!!!!! i don't personally think he'd blush but i think he'd get flustered word-wise if that makes sense. like SUPER caught off guard by it all. not my best work but i tried </3

WOULD HASAN CONSIDER YOU a closed off person? no. you weren't necessarily secretive either, so when you kept yourself locked away in the studio hasan had put together for you, your head in the clouds for months, he knew something was up.

he wasn't sure what exactly, just that your hands were constantly covered in pen ink by dinner time, and that you hummed the same tune as a mellow afterthought. or the way you disappeared "to the studio" but you never took your notebook with you, and usually came home with your hair a different way or covered in stray glitter.

hasan paid attention, he knew you had an album you were working on that was due to be released later in the year, but you were never this quiet about it. you bounced ideas off him, you let him sit in the studio with you and brainstorm what sound you wanted until you got distracted and gave it up for the day. it was the reason why you usually went to a proper recording studio with producers more often than needed.

either way, he trusted you. he didn't want to pry as much as it would ease the constant itch in his brain. you'd lost quite a bit in simply just dating him in the first place — people didn't like the fact that you were dating a political commentator, but you moved past it fairly easily. ignorance was truly key to happiness. you were happy.

it was like any other day. you woke up, put kaya's harness on her and held the unattached leash separately ( just in case you ran into other dogs and their owners on the way ) and went out for a run on your normal circuit in the neighbourhood. when you got back, you kissed your boyfriend through the car window as he left to go meet his personal trainer at the gym. you made a simple breakfast of cereal and fruit and retreated back to what austin had started calling your cave.

it was for one last time in a while, just to prepare a few things so that you could immediately promote the single once it dropped. it was all lined up and awaited the click of a button . . . just hours from now. you felt jittery with excitement, the secret of a few months so close to being exposed to millions.

HASAN came home and did as he usually did — ate a ridiculously protein fueled meal, took a shower, prepared his things for stream, and then joined you for an episode of the show you were currently watching. in fairness, it was the first time in a while he'd joined you or the show part of that plan, something he was incredibly confused about but not exactly bothered by. it was nice, cuddled up together on the couch, sharing moments together that weren't meals or naps or brief moments you'd bring his food to him while he was locked in on whatever he was talking about on stream.

"i have to get up," hasan's chuckle was breathy, his fingers trying to pry your hands off his bicep. you clung to him with all the strength you had, a whine building in the back of your throat.

"five more minutes," you sighed. you both knew five minutes turned to ten which then turned to at least thirty. once he had been a whole two hours late because you wouldn't let go of him, all to the point where he considered just streaming with you clinging to him like a backpack. he wouldn't, of course, but it was definitely still a thought. he knew you wouldn't care anyway, your lyrics were quite . . . questionable and anyone could decipher what your relationship was like without having to physically see it.

"you wouldn't give me five minutes when you were off being secretive," he challenged lightly, eyes rolling in a playful manner. "i promise i'll take more breaks than usual to come see you," it was a common form of negotiation in situations such as these, one you couldn't argue with.

if you were interested, you'd sit in the chair off camera that murat usually sat in, or you'd sit in the armchair he put in the room just for you to read a book while he chatted politics. you wouldn't be doing that today, not even popping in for a quick hello to ask him something like you normally did. not today.

you let go of his arm, doing so in a way that made it look like he'd finally pried your hands away, and pressed your lips against his cheek. "fine . . ." you drawled in mock disappointment. "go do your job or whatever."

he laughed, standing up from the plush couch and disappearing around the corner. you tapped on your phone, the wallpaper of you and hasan posing with his mum in front of a gingerbread house from christmas last year greeting you with the time. you had a few hours to kill before the single's release, and so in the meantime you could tidy up a few things before his parents arrived later tonight.

HASAN, DESPITE POPULAR BELIEF, didn't actually get annoyed as easily as perceived. things had to pile up and really push every single one of his buttons to create an outburst, and one thing that certainly did that was some dumbass spamming the same thing over and over.

"dude, i can't fucking stand dumbasses like this," he sputtered out his usual rant, one that at least half of his chat could probably recite word for word. "shut the fu—" he cut himself off when he opened the link in a separate tab, a snippet of a sound he hadn't heard before paired with what he knew was footage of the richard nixon presidential library. the part that caught him off guard was that your youtube channel's name was displayed at the bottom as he paused it.

oh. it all made so much sense now. all the hours spent holed up in your studio . . . all the hidden secrets and the sudden shutting of your notebook whenever you were close enough . . . oh.

"okay," hasan cleared his throat, dragging it over to the main screen. he didn't make a big spectacle on unbanning the person who spammed the link because how could he be mad? and set the music video back to the beginning. he couldn't not watch it, not when he'd reacted to all your other songs and music videos on stream. "quick break so we can watch this."

heaven sent you to me, i'm just hopin' i don't repeat history.

already, he was justifying it in his head as if he really had to. the title, positions, had him a little nervous as if you hadn't written suggestive songs about your relationship before. it was a little more obvious in the target demographic ( himself, mainly ) when you, in the music video, were clearly meant to be depicted as the president of the united states.

boy, i'm tryna meet your mama on a sunday. then make a lotta love on a monday.

okay, it shouldn't have been a huge deal. it wasn't. once again, this was no different from what you had written before, if anything, this was probably more toned back. even with that, the fact that he had no warning about you dropping this song whatsoever had his face feeling warm at the contents.

switchin' them positions for you, cookin' in the kitchen and i'm in the bedroom . . .

he was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of the song, not glancing away from the video on his monitor. not even to stare at either one of his chat that he had open. he only snapped out of his daze when the lyrics begun to fade and the door to the room swung open.

"thoughts?" he heard your voice before he saw you, a skip in your step as you made it over to stand behind his chair. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes scanning the chat that he had finally started scrolling through again like he wasn't just at a loss for words.

"uh, i, uh," he stuttered momentarily, clearing his throat. the messages he scrolled through were turning into various greetings directed at you. you giggled softly in his ear too quiet for his mic to pick up. "you were fucking amazing, when aren't you?" he just managed to grasp his bearings, looking at you through his monitor.

"aw, i think your face is even a little pink," you leaned even closer, squinting as if to try see it through his beard. tone riddled with tease, "did i do all that?"

hasan glanced away, scoffing out a laugh that you knew was the result of him feeling flustered. he was never super vocal whenever he was embarrassed, but all the signs were there. his body heat had skyrocketed, and he twisting one of his silver rings with one hand while tapping the desk with his other. mission accomplished, you supposed. the secret song was all worth it to witness this.

"thought you'd appreciate me being the president," you shrugged, a grin spreading across your face when he didn't answer "would i be the hottest president ever?"

"mhm, i don't know," he pretended to think, "have you seen obama? man, he could hit a three."

you turned your head slowly, your eyes locking with the obama cutout leaning against the wall behind the small cutout of queen elizabeth and bernie sanders. on numerous occasions when you sat in the room while he was working or when they used to do the podcast in here, you would have to get up and turn it around so you didn't feel like obama was staring into your soul.

"yeah, okay," rolling your eyes, you straightened back up, mindlessly lifting your hands up to fluff up the back of his hair. "i'll let you get back to talking about . . ." you glanced at his other monitor, "elon musk." the face you pulled was enough to show your subtle disgust because you knew one word would have your pr bombarding your phone and you didn't really want to deal with that today.

"i'll take an encore of positions later," hasan added as an afterthought as your fingers left his hair and you waved goodbye to his stream.

"of the song or . . ." you raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked at you in response.

"surprise me."

[yoongelectric]

Up and Down - Ben Shelton

pairing: ben shelton x fem!reader

genre: super fluffy, angst, smut, exes to lovers

warnings: pet names, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, fingering, nipple play, riding, i think that’s it

summary: you get stuck in an elevator with the one that got away

notes: sorry for making you wait, i ended up changing a lot of things. English isn’t my first language

It has been more than a year since your breakup with Ben, your relationship had started innocently, when he came to your house to hang out with your brother, and you stole glances at each other when he was distracted, Ben secretly looked forward to those rare occasions when you spent time with them, when you watched movies together and if he was lucky maybe you would lay your head on his shoulder, or when the three of you had to go grocery shopping and you would seat in the passenger seat next to him, or when in the middle of a conversation he made you laugh. one day he decided that he wanted to be able to experience those things every day so he asked you out, one date turned into two and soon you were inseparable, your brother used to half joke about how you had stolen his best friend and threatened Ben saying that if he ever hurt you he would beat him up.

But all good things come to an end, they say, and after two years of dating, Ben's career began to get in the way, long training sessions and constant trips made it impossible for you two see each other. On top of that, you were no longer the main priority in Ben's mind, not showing up on dates or forgetting important days became more and more usual for him. So one day with pain in your heart you decided to end things, you knew that you both loved each other, and although it was probably one of the hardest things you had ever done you knew it was the best for both of you, you didn't want him to pay less attention to his career now that it was starting to take off, but you weren't going to sacrifice your happiness just to wait for him to have time for you.

You're doing fine, you're studying the career of your dreams, you have a good job, a quiet life and wonderful friends who help you not think about Ben, and maybe that's the reason why you’re doing fine, you don't think about ben, you don't see ben, the only news you have about him is when your brother proudly tells you how well he's doing in tennis, and it makes you happy, it's what you always wanted for him, to be successful in what he loves the most, but when you're alone with your thoughts you can't help but think about how things would be if you had fought more for your love, what it would be like to live your joys together, and support each other when things were not so good, but you convince yourself that you are better off this way, because you’ll never know if you would’ve been able to overcome that rough patch in your relationship.

and here you are, getting ready for your brother's birthday, he had told you earlier that Ben was going to be there and you had psychologically prepared yourself all afternoon for the moment you would see him for the first time since you broke up, you told everyone that it was fine, you’d ended up things on good terms and you didn't hold a grudge against him, you didn't feel anything for ben other than a nice memory, but secretly you were wearing just his favorite color, you had styled your hair the way you knew he liked it and you had looked at your outfit in the mirror hundreds of times hoping ben would find you attractive, there are things that never change at the end of the day.

The night was going smoothly, when Ben arrived you greeted him politely with a slight smile and continued having small talk with your aunt, obviously the questions didn't take long to come, what happened for you to broke up? Was there anyone else? How does it feel to see him here? You avoided them as best you could but they left you feeling an uncomfortable pang in your chest. The night went by and each drink made you overthink your decisions over and over again, so you decided to say goodbye to your closest circle and return home before doing something you would regret.

When they were about to close completely, the elevator doors opened up again, letting in ben’s tall figure, who looked at you surprised, with a pleased smile, you're not sure if that was the same expression he received from you.

"Hey, y/n, leaving already? We didn't have much chance to talk there" Ben tried to break the ice.

"Yeah, I have a bit of a headache so I preferred to go home" you lied, obviously you wouldn't tell him that you couldn't stand seeing him and not being together.

"oh i understand, maybe you need some sleep"

"yeah maybe..." you tried to say something else but you didn't really know what, you fell into an awkward silence, unusual for the two of you.

and as if life was playing a joke on you, you felt the elevator stop, you pressed the button for the ground floor several times but it was useless, you wouldn’t move.

"We can't be stuck here," you said, switching between pressing the stop and go button and the one for the floor you were going to.

"Relax, I'll call your brother so he’ll tell the maintenance guys."

The call gave you two the worst news, no one would go that late at night on a saturday to fix an elevator, so you would have to wait for the system to work again.

The two of you sat on the floor in silence, looking at the ceiling, at the floor anywhere but at each other, it was strange how something as familiar as being alone together now produced such discomfort inside you.

you heard ben laugh bitterly

"What's so funny?" You asked, playing with your necklace, an old habit you had when you were nervous.

"Nothing, I just never thought I'd need to be stuck in an elevator to be alone with you."

His remark making you feel even more uneasy.

"I don't think that's the case" you avoided his comment, looking away.

"y/n, I'm not stupid, I see that you're nervous, I know it bothers you being here with me" he paused to look at you for the first time in several minutes "I'm surprised that this is what we are like now"

"It doesn't bother me being here with you, Ben, it bothers me not knowing what to do."

"what do you mean?"

"You were literally my person for two years, we always connected on another level, and now we can't have a conversation for 5 minutes, I hate feeling like I don't know you"

"y/n, you are the one who’s been avoiding me all night, pretending you don't know me when you are the person who knows me best in the world" Ben approached you trying to hold your hand gently "I know it's my fault, I was the one who lost you, but things don't have to be like this"

"but they are, there’s nothing to do" you finally looked at him "some things belong to the past"

"I miss you, Y/n, I miss us, I know I didn't take care of you like I should have, but I don't think that our relationship is something of the past, I can fix things you know."

"There is nothing to fix, you have other priorities in life and that's okay, I'm not going to get in the way of your career"

"do you ever think about me?, tell me the truth, because I think about you all the time, every time I win a match and you’re the first person i wanna call, or when I watch some movie that you like and I remember the comments you would make, specially at night when the bed feels too big" Ben moved even closer to you "please tell me you still think about me, y/n”

"i do, but that doesn't matter-" your words were cut off by ben's lips on yours

He held you by the neck, kissing you as if he’d never had to stop doing it, the kiss felt intense, full of emotions that hadn’t surfaced for a whole year.

"It does matter, Y/N, before we didn't know how to handle things, but maybe now we can" Ben murmured against your lips.

"What if we can't? I don't want to feel like someone you only remember when you have nothing else to do again" A single tear fell down your cheek, which Ben was quick to wipe away with his thumb while holding your face.

"You were never that for me, y/n, it was a difficult time and i neglected you, i admit that, but I swear that will never happen again, i know how it feels like to loose you completely". ben smiled sadly

This time it was you who leaned in to kiss him, the desperation of finding something to hold onto to believe him invading your senses, Ben grabbed your waist trying to stick you to him but the position you were in, sitting side by side, made it impossible.

"Can you come here?" He patted his lap so you sat on top of him.

When you straddled him you felt his arms wrap you in a hug, clinging you to him as if even the slightest distance hurt him. He laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair. You stayed like that for a while until he looked up again, his eyes full of love.

"god, you're so beautiful, i missed you"

“I missed you too, you have no idea” you pouted as you ran your hand through his brown curls, a habit that lingered over time.

You felt him reach out to kiss your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your sensitive spots, Ben's movement taking you aback momentarily but making you loose yourself in him right away, your hand in his hair caressing and gently pulling his locks as your back arched over his chest.

His hands came down to grab your hips, pressing you onto his growing erection, making you moan softly.

"Sorry, tell me to stop if you want" Ben whispered, kissing the skin the neckline of your top left visible.

"Please don't" you said looking down.

“good,” you heard ben grunt as he rolled your skirt up and grabbed your bare ass, urging you to buck your hips onto his, and again, and again, his hands guiding your movements hard onto it, his hard cock feeling so good against your clothed clit, but the friction quickly feeling too little. You gently bit his shoulder, pressing harder on him, but it was useless.

"ben, please, i need more"

Ben looked into your eyes, smiling devilishly, he raised your hips slightly to have easy access to your pussy, running a finger all over it, your hips pushed down onto his finger, your back arching, head falling back and your hands resting on his shoulders needing to grab something.

“ben, take them off” you said making him look up and kissing him again.

He pushed your panties to the side, without removing them yet, he poked a finger at your entrance trying to collect your wetness, hissing at the amount of your juices he found there.

"shit, I want to fuck you so bad"

Ben looked at you once more, lips red and swollen from his ministrations, your hair messy and a slight shine in your eyes.

"then do it, baby, I can't wait, Ben" this time you were the one who went down to kiss his neck, sucking hard, you were sure to leave marks but at this moment you didn't care, you felt Ben's hand twitch on your hip and a growl escape his mouth, it was amazing how after a year being apart you still knew all his weak points, maybe because you were one yourself

"Not yet, princess, we have to get you ready."

"Ok, but make it quick, what if the elevator starts working again?"

Ben laughed softly "we'll have to continue in my bed then."

You smiled at him but your face turned into one of pleasure when Ben began to draw figure eights on your pussy, keeping your hips still so he could please you just the way he wanted.

"Take off your top, baby" as soon as you left your breasts bare, Ben's mouth attacked them, skillfully licking your nipples, sucking and letting his teeth delicately graze that sensitive area.

Ben slid two fingers into your entrance, pumping them in and out reaching all the places inside you that made you see stars, his other hand releasing your hip as he licked his thumb to circle your clit.

You were making a mess on his fingers and you could hear the noise of your wetness getting pushed in and out of you.

"ben, it’s okay, fuck me, please, I need you, I need your cock"

ben nodded his head releasing his dick from its confinement, you suddenly remembered his size, once he was inside of you, you felt perfectly full, stretched, but it was true that it had taken you a few months during your relationship to get used to his length and girth.

"you ready, pretty?" You nodded and looked at him, legs spread, leaning back slightly, giving his member a few strokes before he grabbed you to help you sit on his cock he looked so attractive you couldn't think about anything else.

you let his dick in inch by inch, but halfway through you felt it was too much, the stretch hurting between your legs.

your face of discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by ben

"y/n are you okay? did I hurt you or something?" He spoke worriedly while holding your waist to help you support your own weight.

You nodded and rested your head on the crook of his neck before speaking, a little embarrassed

"I'm fine, it's just that, your dick is big and I haven't had..." you looked at him with reddened cheeks.

"since we broke up?" Ben asked trying to sound understanding, but the smile he had to contain was noticed by you.

"don't smile like that, I just need to adjust to the size, be a little patient with me"

"all the patience in the world, love, just tell me when you're ready" he gave a soft peck on your shoulder.

"can you take this off?" you asked as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

Ben removed the garment in one motion allowing you to cling onto his skin, breathing through your nose and taking in the rest of him.

“you’re doing great, y/n, just tell me when you can move.”

The pain soon turned into pleasure and you soon began to feel that need for more friction in your lower stomach, you moved your hips up until only the tip was inside and you let yourself fall, Ben's deep growl making your walls tighten around his cock, you repeated your movements over and over again until your legs began to shake, his mouth changing between kissing your breasts, your neck or your lips, soon neither of you had the energy for anything but trying to reach your climaxes, holding each other and moaning into each other's mouths, you were so close but your legs had less and less strength.

"ben, can you?-"

A scream escaped your mouth when Ben placed his heels on the floor and, holding your hips, began to fuck you right in that delicious pace that he’d always known how to give you.

"Is this what you wanted, beautiful? you wanted me to fuck you good?"

"gosh, ben, so so so good, I missed this so much"

"I missed you, I love you so much"

Ben held you close, so lovingly, contrasting with the violent thrusts he was giving your pussy over and over again.

The knot in your stomach formed quickly and white spots appeared around your eyes.

"love, I'm close" your hips began to meet his movements, your clit rubbing against Ben's pelvis making your head spin.

“let go, cum for me, tell me, y/n, who makes you feel this good?”

The tension in your stomach snapped, your entire body shivered and all the nerves in your body woke up, you made a mess of juices on his dick.

"Shit, Ben you make me feel this good, there's no one like you."

You didn't know what you were saying, you were just thinking about the time you’d missed all of this, the time you lost each other.

When you came down from your high, Ben started his thrusts again, becoming more erratic and his moans less controlled.

"y/n I'm gonna cum, where do you want it?"

Your head was full of possibilities, but you felt so good like this, so comfortable, so safe, that you didn't want to move, you didn't want to lose contact.

"Finish inside, I don't want you to get out of me, Ben"

"damn, you're the best thing that ever happened to me"

Ben's hips stopped inside you, pressing hard as you felt his white seed paint your walls.

His head fell onto your shoulder with a grunt of pleasure and exhaustion, hugging you tightly, as if you were going to disappear if he didn’t hold you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his head, enjoying the contact that you’d only now realized how much you missed.

“I love you, Ben, i’m sorry for leaving like that,” you whispered in his ear.

"I let you go, I should have never ever taken you for granted, y/n, please be mine again."

You grabbed his head to make him look at you and you left a tender kiss on his cheek.

"I think all this shows you that my answer is yes"

"Thank you, baby, I swear you won't regret it, I'll take care of you the way you deserve"

"I know I won't regret it, love."

tiredness began to take over you, so Ben gently took you away from him, telling you to get dressed, that he would wake you up when the elevator worked again.

and you don't know when that happened, but the next morning you woke up clinging to him in his bed, right where you should have always been.

[agentpeggycartering]

Hello friends! Yesterday I said that when I hit 10,000 words in my WIP I would post a snippet from Nora Verse. The overwhelming majority of votes were for the first (still unedited) scene.

And so, without further ado, here we go.

The moment Buck woke up he knew something was off. It had to be, because there was no other reason for him to be up at, he blearily glanced at the alarm clock on Tommy's nightstand and saw 2:17 blinking back at him, 2:17 in the morning. He took stock of his body, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was that had woken him up, just that he was vaguely uncomfortable, and his back kind of hurt. He settled back into the covers, thinking maybe he could get back to sleep, when he felt it. The pain that he woken him up. It was gone again by the time he was thinking of waking Tommy up, but he felt it. He rearranged himself to the best of his ability without waking Tommy so that he was sitting up and waited to see if he felt it again. He did, and it felt a bit more intense than it had been before. He sighed to himself and got out of bed. Paced around the room a bit. No change in the discomfort. Went down the hall and tried to go to the bathroom. No change. Climbed back into the bed, rearranging the pillows again.

When he felt it for a third time he reached over to shake Tommy's shoulder. "Tommy. Tommy, wake up."

"Hmm wazzit?" Tommy said, squinting up at Buck with one eye, rubbing sleepily at the other.

"I think we need to go to the hospital. I- I think it's my appendix." Buck said

That woke Tommy up. "The hospital? Are you sure?"

"I woke up almost 40 minutes ago and the pain has only gotten worse. Nothing I do relieves it." Buck says, glancing at the clock and seeing that it's closer to 3AM than it was when he woke up.

"Okay, okay. You just- stay there, I'll go start the car." Tommy says, pressing a kiss to the side of Buck's head and extracting himself from the blankets and rolling out of bed. He grabs his jeans from the day before from where he'd left them in a pile on their bedroom floor, making quick work of pulling them up and getting them buttoned. It's but a moments work from him to swap the shirt he was sleeping in for a new one from their dresser. He's out the door a moment later and Buck follows the sound of his steps down the hall and to the front door, the sound of the lock unlocking and the jangle of keys as Tommy picks up the keys to his truck from the key bowl. Buck is distracted from any further listening as he's overcome by another wave of pain.

Tommy comes back into the bedroom with Buck's sneakers in his hand and a hoodie draped over his arm. He comes over to Buck, presses a kiss to his forehead and leaves the shoes at his feet and the hoodie on the bed next to him before he goes over to their dresser, pulling out a tshirt, sweats, and some socks.

"Let's get you into something comfy, okay Evan?" Tommy says, helping Buck out of the T-shirt he'd worn to bed, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder before helping him pull the new shirt and the hoodie on, tenderly brushing the hair back from his forehead after he puts the hood down. Then Tommy turns his attention to the sweatpants and socks, picking Buck's bad leg up, gently pulling the first sock up and pressing a kiss to his knee before repeating the motion with the other leg, before carefully, gently pulling the sweatpants up, rubbing a comforting hand on his hip when he's done. "All set. Do you have everything you need?" Tommy asks Buck.

In response Buck reaches over to his nightstand and unplugs his phone and shoving it, charger and all, into the pocket of his hoodie . "My wallet is downstairs, right?"

"It is. I already grabbed it for you." Tommy says, patting his own pocket. He goes to retrieve his own phone from his side of the bed and then goes to help Buck up. "Come on, then, nice and easy." He says, helping Buck to slowly stand up, keeping an arm around his waist as they make their way down the hall and out of the house to Tommy's truck. Tommy helps Buck get buckled into his seat and then runs back to double check he locked the front door before he's popping into the drivers seat and pulling onto the road.

"Do you want to call anyone?" Tommy asks, only taking his eyes off the road a moment to look at Buck .

"No, it's the middle of the night, no need to panic everyone when they wouldn't even be able to visit if they admitted me right away. Maybe when we know what's going on, but not until then."

"Okay, you just rest now, okay?" Tommy says, reaching over to rub his hand soothingly up Buck's thigh for a moment. Buck hums in agreement and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes as a he does so. He's not sure how much he'll be able to rest, with the growing discomfort he's feeling, but he's going to give it his best shot.

[lavendernlilac]

Do you have anything for your lavender tea or strawberry lemonade au? I'm a massive fan of them both, though I know you have been working hard on the bodyguard au currently so if you don't want to answer this while you work on something else that's ok

I do actually !!! I was looking through my strawblem folder and found a wip of a fic I was working on :3 I can share a little snippet from it <3

“Wh— Scar, hey!” Grian hastily grabs his laptop and papers to hoist them up as his boyfriend drops his head in his lap. He had seen Scar approaching him, but was unaware of his intention until the man had sat down and moved to lay down. With no regard to his work, Scar drops his head to lay on Grian’s thighs, much to the researcher’s chagrin. “This isn’t very professional, you know!” he huffs out, leaning over the incubus to look at him with a disapproving frown.  “We're the only ones here, G,” Scar points out, looking up at him. His green eyes are bright and cheerful as always, filled with love as their eyes meet.  “Yeah well I’ve got work to do.” Grian frowns back at him. “And this time I’m kind of on the clock, so I can’t afford to be distracted, Scar,” he says sternly. He’s in the process of going over some field notes for an upcoming investigation they’re doing. Martyn, Grian’s research sponsor, was the one to tell him about it. He asked Grian to look into it and who was Grian to say no? “I need to get these observations written and sorted by tomorrow.”  Normally, Grian doesn’t mind Scar’s touchiness. He’s a bit hesitant with it in public, but when it’s just the two of them, Grian soaks up Scar’s touch like a sponge. He likes being close to Scar, sometimes he’ll toss himself into the man’s lap when he wants to. And there’s a few different ways that can go, depending on Scar. Sometimes Scar is content to hold Grian or just sit next to him. Other times they’ll exchange a kiss or two. Or, Scar’s hands will wander and it’ll end with Grian crying his name as his boyfriend takes him apart with both his words and touch. Regardless, moments like this end with some kind of distraction.  This time? It can’t.  Grian gives Scar a firm look, and the incubus quickly nods his head. He nuzzles right against Grian’s stomach, eyes shut as he does so. “No distractions from me, you have my word, G,” he swears, earnestly. “Just… just wanna lay here. Right in your comfy lap.” He shuts his eyes after saying it, and Grian’s shoulders sag slightly. It seems Scar really doesn’t intend on being a handsome distraction.  Breath leaving him in a light exhale, Grian relents, allowing Scar to lay where he is. He has to move his things around a bit, rearranging his laptop and notes. He complains about it of course, because who would he be if he didn’t? Scar hums in response, not making any move to give Grian his lap again. Grian doesn’t really mind it. It gives him a free excuse to run his fingers through Scar’s hair, feel the soft strands of chocolate under his touch. He likes Scar’s hair, how it curls around his fingers, how easy it is to brush through.  His hand naturally starts to do just that, rhythmically carding his fingers through Scar’s hair. He does it without thinking much about it, as he turns back to his work. Scar relaxes under his touch, practically going boneless against him. He all but buries his face into Grian’s stomach, sighing contently.  “You smell nice today,” Scar mumbles, and he sounds drowsy. “Really sweet…”  Grian pauses to look up from his screen, blinking. “Thanks?” He looks down at Scar with furrowed brows, befuddlement inching its way up his chest. He forgets about his work for a moment, choosing instead to observe his boyfriend. Scar’s been acting a little weird recently, clingier than usual. He knows by nature that Scar is pretty affectionate, but this feels different somehow.  Feeling a spike of concern, Grian moves his palm to press against Scar’s forehead. Scar doesn’t feel warm, so probably not a cold.  Pulling back, Grian hums. Scar looks tired, more than anything. Perhaps he should just let him sleep for a bit while Grian finishes up his work. And then he can drag Scar back to his place for some proper rest. With this in mind, Grian returns to brushing Scar’s hair, feeling compelled to work just a little bit quicker. 

[yingsfirst]

Missing License — Kim Gyuvin!!

PAIRING: kim gyuvin x reader (can be read as an established relationship or pining one!) GENRE: fluff, crack WARNINGS: unsafe driving practices & profanity WORD COUNT: 573 NOTES: please drive safely, with a license, and with your eyes on the road! I don’t support whatever gyuvin’s doing here, it’s for comedic purposes!

Today would’ve been normal if it wasn’t for Gyuvin. You would’ve been in your room, relaxing, not anxiously pacing back and forth in front of your place while waiting for that bastard. 

Speaking of which, you decide to check your texts again. Maybe this time, the godforsaken texts won’t be there, and while it would mean you were hallucinating them earlier, that outcome would be preferable. 

kim gwaja!!: im coming to pick u up in 10

you: oh? ure driving?

you: when did u get your license??

kim gwaja!!: i didnt

you: ???

you: gyuvin what

you: kim gyuvin

…okay, so maybe you’re too sane to hallucinate all of that. No matter. The bastard will text you soon, saying that it was all a prank. You’ll then tell him off and complain about having to get ready. Then you can go right back to bed. 

Putting your phone away, you realise a sports car has pulled over. It’s a nice one, and while it doesn’t look too new, that’s to be expected. The new ones aren’t very good. It’s also red, in a shade that freak would like. Wait a minute… 

No, no way. You’re insane enough to think that he wasn’t pranking you, but life isn’t strange enough to make that true. 

Though you were quickly disproven when the windows rolled down to reveal the Kim Gyuvin as the driver, looking at you expectantly. 

“Well?” he asks, hands tapping the steering wheel. “Are you going to get in, or?”

And you do. Stiffly. Silently.

To your chagrin, the interior isn’t any less impressive than the exterior. The leather seats are unbelievably nice, and based on the colours, you can tell that he extensively customized his car. 

There’s even a… floating centre console? You’re sure that it’s hardly practical, but it’s a good distraction from an even bigger problem: how that guy drives. And oh god, he’s one of those drivers—one hand on the wheel, another resting on the window. Being able to see every flex of his muscles might be doing wonders for your eyes, but it was not doing wonders for your heart. Was this a deliberate move?

Upon noticing your expression, the bastard has the audacity to grin and says “McLaren 570,” as if that explains anything. “It was a recommendation from Taerae.”

Okay, so he needs some help to find a good model. That’s slightly reassuring. 

But of course, not a single one of your thoughts can last without him interrupting. “Though if I could have any car, I would’ve picked the McLaren F1. Shame it’s like, what? Thirty million dollars now?”

“That thirty million will go down the drain if you keep driving like… that, Gyuvin,” you say, giving him a look of what you hope is disgust. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, giving you a cursory glance and a light laugh. “One-handed driving isn’t as dangerous as you think. Or well, it’s not dangerous if it’s me doing it.”

You scoff, frustrated with yourself for believing him. 

“Alright, alright… will you stop frowning if I let you choose the music?” He sighs, acting like it’s causing him physical pain to defer to you. “I promise it’ll be a safe drive.”

And… it was. Surprisingly. With your music in the background and your combined laughter in the forefront, it was. A safe and fun ride.

“By the way, I’m surprised you have nothing to say about the license thing.”

Oh. Shit.

[glitchy-npc]

Jumpscare

Series: Fallen Hero Pairing:@dogueteeth-fhr Cerrisa "Beck" Becerra(they/them)/Tegan Wells (he/him) Tegan's POV. Warnings: none Word count: 1339

Los Diablos is almost pretty at night. It’s mostly the lights, the glow softening all the dirty, ugly aspects of the city that can’t hide in broad daylight. Not that the nights are innocent, far from it, but the distracting lights and the deeper shadows they create make it easier for the kind of work I do.  It’s messy, violent work but it's the only skill set I have, villainy isn’t that different from vigilantism at all. Or worse, what I did before. At least now I get to pick my targets.

I shift my weight to the other foot and flex my hands, the armored plates of my gauntlets gliding smoothly with the motion. The armor has practically become a second skin. How did I ever survive all those years ago, running around in a fucking skinsuit and jacket? 

Oh right, I didn’t.

Sidestep had to die so Retribution could be born, or some poetic shit like that. My mind always wanders when I’m stuck waiting.   

I’m waiting for Beck, or rather Heartbreak since we’re on a job. It's not that they’re late, I’m just early. I can chalk it up to post mission nerves, but really I just want to see them. 

I shift back to the other foot and cross my arms, trying to go over mission details but it’s hard to focus. I don’t even know what their armor looks like, this is the first time we’ve met for work. Every other time it had been hangouts that turned into drinks that turned into…ok I’m really distracted. Focus, idiot. 

I don’t have to wait much longer before I feel the growingly familiar brush of Beck's mind as they approach. 

“Good timing, I almost left without you.” I say without turning around. Their chuckle, muffled by their helmet, confirms what my telepathy already told me. It’s handy like that, always knowing who is behind you.

There are some blind spots though.

I turn to face them, we need to go over the plan one more time.

“So, we need to - JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.” The swear is torn from my throat almost before I have time to think it but my heart is racing somewhere around my eardrums.

Heartbreak spins around reflexively, their mind lighting up as they search for the potential threat. “What, what is it!?” 

“No, no, it's nothing, I just…” I try to return my heartbeat to normal and to think of anything that isn’t the truth.

Heartbreak’s armor is terrifying. 

They turn back towards me and staring at that helmet isn’t any better than the first time. They place a hand on their hip and tilt their head to the side, the gesture a twisted combination of sass and nightmare fuel.

“Something wrong?” Their question is light but the vocal distorters are not doing me any favors. 

“No just…nice design choice.” It's anything but nice but what do I know? 

“Don’t tell me you got scared?” Their tone is teasing.

“No.” I lie. “But you could have warned me.” I should be getting used to it by now but it's still so disconnected with how I usually see Beck – warm brown skin and scar tissue and the smiles they try to hide from me while I pretend I’m not looking. It still feels like Beck, mentally, but how can I be sure? Maybe it's someone else, someone with super telepathy, making me feel like it's them when they’re not.

“I don’t have super telepathy.” They laugh, derailing my train of thought. Right, they still have the normal kind and I’m an idiot. “You know it's me Tegan.

“Do I?” I ask, closing the gap between us. “Maybe you should take off the helmet and show me?” And maybe I can regain a sliver of my dignity if I pretend to be smooth.

“Hm. You first.” Of course their response is a challenge but it's an easy one.

It takes only a second to find the connection panel of my armor's face plate and remove it. I've spent so much time tinkering with this armor I know every bit by heart and muscle memory. I blink a few times to adjust my vision.

“Ok, now do me.”

I can’t help the cough I try to pass off as a laugh, there’s no way they didn’t phrase it like that on purpose. Little shit. 

“You want me to take your helmet off?” 

“I mean, unless you don’t think you can figure it out…” Their voice trails off, another challenge and a harder one this time but there's no way I could back down from something like that.

“Oh I can figure it out, just give me a minute.” 

It's getting easier to look at the helmet this close, though the design is meant to intimidate and inspire fear it's still just plasteel, paint and carbon fiber. Those I can deal with. I try to keep my face straight as I glide my armored fingers over the jaw portion of the skull, despite the teeth it seems to be one solid piece, no seams that I can see but then again Dr. Mortums work is flawless. 

Heatbreak stands stock still as my fingers work their way over the hands and I swear they’re the worst fucking part, I don’t want to know why Beck chose them as part of the design. I could guess, but I don’t like that line of thought either. I tuck the faceplate of my own armor under my arm and with both my hands on either side of their helmet it feels intimate in a way that's hard to process, I just hope it doesn’t show on my face. Though I can’t see their eyes I know they must be looking at me. There's a vulnerability to it, my face bare, while theirs remains concealed. But its a small price to pay, not like the blow to my pride that will be if I can’t figure this fucking – oh. There's a small panel, tucked behind the hands and concealed by the hood. I press it, rewarded by the familiar hiss of depressurised oxygen. The top and jaw portion come away in my hands.

Beck's handsome face smirks back at me, cheeks flushed and green eyes glinting even in the semi darkness. 

“Told you I could figure it out, now what do I wi-”

Beck kisses me before I can finish. It's not the first time, not by a long shot but it’s still exciting. If I had my faceplate on the interface would show my elevated heart rate for the second time tonight. How many years did I spend thinking I could never have something like this? That anyone would want to kiss me, or enjoy it? And from Beck's little hum against my lips, I can tell they enjoy it. 

If my hands weren’t holding pieces of armor they’d be around them in a second but it's their weight that reminds me we're here for a reason.

“We…” I start, breaking the kiss and hating myself for it. “We do have a job to do.”

“True.” They sigh as I hand their helmet back to them. “Doesn't mean we can’t think about what to do when the job’s done.” They reaffix their helmet and suddenly it's not half as terrifying as I thought it was. 

“I have a few ideas.” The distorters drop my voice a few octaves as I reaffix the faceplate to my own helmet.

“Then let's get this done and you can tell me all about it.” They saunter past me and I’m forced to turn and follow them.  

“Count on it.” I never could let anyone else get the last word in. A bad habit, I know. As bad as daydreaming about “after” when I should focus on the mission. And I will, once the adrenaline kicks in I can focus on the fight and nothing else. But until then I just keep coming up with ideas that make me grateful my helmet hides my blush.

[fall0utmind]

hi, i used a translator when i wrote this text, so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me 🙏we probably have one brain for the whole fandom, because i'm also hatching an idea with an a/b/o au in my head.my main idea was similar to yours with all the pain and illness, but in addition to the main focus on the relationship between vale and marc, i also wanted to write about marc's pack.his pack, consisting of young boys with whom he trains and cares for. for example, dani holgado, is definitely an alpha. looks at marc as an example, as someone to look up to. david alonso, i don't know, most likely also an alpha (for the sake of the plot lol). fermin aldeguer could be a beta. and of course maximo quiles, marc's protégé, omega. a hot-tempered boy looking at david with loving eyes.(all the boys look at him with such tenderness) I think they fit your idea perfectly.Marc, who is not a member of any packs except for the family one and is only the unofficial head of the pack of these boys. They are like his children to him.In the 2025 season, when all his guys are either in moto2 or moto3, they need his support, help and advice (they need to be held in the evenings after falls or when they are on the verge of a rut/heat) (this is in addition to his own season) and he has no time to think about his inner omega.I think this would be so different from the relationship between Vale and his academies, where the alpha of the pack is support in the media, a firm hand on the shoulder and distraction from all problems through entertainment.And Marc is soft with everyone, a support for them (he does not run away from problems, but solves them). the boys always know that they can come to him: he can listen to them or understand without words, teach them to stand up for themselves, give advice on how to take a certain turn on the track or what to choose as the first gift for courtship (or from what angle to look at the alpha))well, here is the true omega of the pack.another scene before his eyes - the day before the public loss of consciousness. maybe this is maximo, before the third race on the calendar on saturday - his first moto3 race because he just turned 17 the other day. he lies close to marc in his camper, burying his face close to the neck of the older omega. in his arms he feels like he is on the clouds, sometimes he does not finish some sentences, but marc understands everything and answers him with a laugh. perhaps before this grand prix, the boys gathered in their little pack and, he does not know for how many times, discussed that marc does not smell of anything. nothing at all. they asked alex a long time ago, but he never answered them.and max awkwardly asks about it, when before that he had been mumbling about David and his unique overtakes in his first year in moto2 for about 7 minutes non-stop, feeling how Marc relaxed. and literally three seconds later he regrets it, when Marc's breathing rhythm gets out of whack and how his shoulders tense under his grip. but the man only grabs the kid tighter and tells in general terms what happened between him and Vale, choosing only soft expressions, without hatred, sadness or pity.and the next day after the victory he faints. imagine Maximo's face lolin any case, thank you for your creativity and for your brain. not only is every word of yours read in one breath, you are also a very nice person. thank you ❤️

Hi, firstly, I'm so in awe of everyone on this app when English isn't their first language. You all make me feel so stupid 😂😂 so never apologise for that.

Secondly, what a lovely message!!!

Omg!!! Im so excited?? We all have a million a/b/o ideas and it's fantastic!!! I love that for us!

Wow! I never even considered that, it's so good??? The idea of Marc having this little gaggle of boys (borderline men) following him around like ducklings because he's like the main/pack omega (and he should be for the whole paddock) - i love it. I think there's so much room to work with in that dynamic. Like you said, the way the boys look up to him, how they need to be looked after when they've fallen or when they're about to enter heat/rut cycles. And marc is 100% being a mother hen. He doesn't even realise that he's doing it half the time? Like sitting with all the boys over lunch, giving advice, talking to them after a bad race, squished onto the motorhone sofas.

In one way, it's healing for his omega. But another is ruining him. Because it's suppressing so much that he isn't actually bonded to these kids, not on a biological level. He doesn't scent with them, etc, because he doesn't do it with ANYONE. (Post reconcilliation, he does. And they become his pups basically). These kids are clinging onto him and it hurts so bad because he doesn't actually have that connection with them 💔💔

Omg, and yes, the idea of Marc, an omega, by definition, being head of a pack. He is the one they always come to for advice, direction, and love. I especially love the comparisons to the VR46 pack. I think it would be really different. I think a. It is not a true 'pack' because of Marc's issues (although they act like one, and the boys desperately want it to be one, but don't want to push marc, just sometimes pile into his motorhome and lie on Marc's bed, confused about why there's no nest; leaving their clothes in Marc's space, he secretly hoards them for comfort).

The boys asking marc what happened omg 💔😭 marc telling them, but only the bare bones as he knows they look up to Vale and he doesn't want to ruin that, also he doesn't want to hurt/scare them because he's FINE, damn it. And then how they react when marc gets sick, can you imagine the fear? The anger they have at Valentino, but they feel so powerless because they're young and in lower leagues and UGH. God I love this idea so much. Love the dynamic, its very cute.

Thank you so much for the ask and for the kind words!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[castlebyersafterdark]

Thinking about how Will loves to put on make up has got me in a chokehold.

Imagine Mike coming home early one day because he and Will have dinner reservations (or anything like that) and he walks in on Will putting on his eyeliner, face full of glittery make up, and my man is stunned.

Will wanted to surprise Mike by prettying himself up for their date but is upset because he can’t get it right and he needs everything to go perfectly

but Mike is now just focused on ruining Will’s make up (and the bed sheets).

They had to cancel their dinner plans 🤭

"We're going to be late again," said not annoyed or irritated as Mike lingered in the doorway, but matter of fact.

He peeked around the counter and glanced at the absent sway of Will's hips, butt poked out enticingly as Will leaned closer to the mirror. He bit his lip and smiled, then stepped back, giving him space. Fought back temptation.

Will hummed in acknowledgement from the bathroom and said no more. He was trying to concentrate. And not poke his eye again. He'd had to start over on the left eye twice. Artist's hands, typically steady, hadn't mastered the art of tracing soft, chalky pencil against slightly damp skin just yet. He didn't want to look like a clown - and a very sad one at that. Or maybe a raccoon. Either way. Not the look he was going for - that being, the mysterious artist type.

This was a brave step for him.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Can you go wait in the living room or something?" Will asked, not annoyed or irritated either, but nervous.

He wanted to get this right. He wanted to look pretty. It had been a hard enough decision to decide to try this for a night out. His previous little experiments had been subtle, private so far. But they were going out, to a nice dinner in a nice restaurant he felt safe being himself in. Taking a taxi. Alone in the dark backseat, together in some fancy booth. Him and Mike, being their very best selves after working so hard for a treat like this.

"If you want me, too. I can. I just-"

"Just, what? I want to surprise you."

Oh no. Wrong thing to have said to Mike Wheeler, who could never let a damn thing go.

(continued below...)

"A surprise?"

"Mike. Please. It's not that big of a deal," he lied and said no more after Mike's continued pleading inquiries.

Mike groaned and left the doorway. Didn't head to the living room, though, but sat on the edge of the bed. Too antsy, he scooted back, propped against the headboard, legs sprawled, arms like a wingspan across the pillows. He shifted and mustered up a sultry look, hoping that Will would walk out to find him there like an enticing gift soon enough.

He glanced at their bedside clock and saw they actually had a decent amount of time. Yes. They had time. He'd only wanted to play it safe, get out early, factor in unpredictable city traffic.

Mike contemplated unbuckling and getting his own surprise ready. Debated, and spread his legs, palmed at his slightly hard dick, beginning to take interest. They might have time for something quick. Maybe. Better not...

After only several minutes had passed, and barely that, he gave up. He couldn't take it.

"Hey, Will, sorry - oh. Oh, baby look at you."

Will, distracted after concentrating deeply on putting the finishing touches on his look, turned instantly at the sound of Mike's voice this time. Instinctual. Without thinking. He shrugged and gave a coy smile, masking his nerves. Hoped he didn't look stupid. Faked some confidence.

"I've seen me."

"You've seen you. Uh-huh. Have you really?" Mike stepped forward, sly smile in place. "Look at you."

Mike spun Will to face the mirror and hugged him from behind, kiss placed to the back of his head. He stepped back and shook his head. He wanted to devour him.

Will placed the cap back on the make-up and set it down on the counter. Mike traced a finger down the strong line of Will's jaw, contrast to the softness of his other features. He used a finger to tip Will's face up from where he'd cast his gaze to the floor. Needed to see him fully, needed Will to know how how effected he was.

"You are so beautiful, Will. I mean it. So gorgeous. Gosh, I love you."

Will squeaked at the quickness of the kiss that followed, with Mike swooping down to kiss the fresh color on his lips and squeeze him around the waist, drawn flush from thigh to chest. Mike pressed him against the counter, heard the sound of small plastic items clatter over and bounce into the sink and laughed at Will's whine.

"Mike, you're gonna ruin it," Will giggled, and swiped at the corner of his mouth where the light pink color had already smeared a little. It stuck on Mike's bottom lip, too, a slash of pink across his perpetually red mouth.

"Isn't that the point," Mike answered, voice deep and quiet, like low thunder reverberated across marble walls.

"For later. Haven't even gotten to wear it out the door, yet," Will protested but he already could tell his work was going to have to be reapplied before they left the apartment now, going by the look in Mike's eyes.

Will was transfixed to the spot, trapped. Heart rate rising. The foxes were circling the meadow. Little rabbit had nowhere to run.

Mike hummed and kissed his cheek, pulled back to stare at those pretty, dark rimmed eyes. Dark but soft. Carefully, artfully applied liner and mascara, just enough to enhance those bright, doe eyes. Made them look even bigger. Some sort of barely there powder made his skin shimmer and glow on the high points of his cheeks and the side of his face. Made him look otherworldly, delicate. And his mouth - fuck, his mouth. Pouty and pink, stained a perfect color and glossy on top. A vision. Subtle, but with effort that made him look effortless. Like he was supposed to look like that.

Skin soft as ever, hair combed and styled and falling just so, strands slipping between Mike's fingers as he carded a hand through. Flushed cheeks - natural, embarrassed slightly by the situation but excited by Mike's obvious appreciation. Smooth skin, freshly shaven, and the rest of his skin subtly applied with scents of vanilla and deep spice.

Mike was starving.

Dinner could wait.

Mike pressed him harder against the bathroom counter, moving from cheek to neck with kisses that avoided smudging Will's mouth further. Will moaned under the attention, head tilted to the side. Mike undid a few buttons, pushed the silky shirt over Will's shoulder as he mapped a path across his warm, bare skin, hot kisses to every little freckle and mole on his shoulder. He knew what he was doing. He knew every trick and button to push. Teeth to skin, mouth sucking hard at the hollow his Will's neck. A knee raised between Will's thighs, feeling his excitement grow, feeling how Will was just as instantly keyed up as him.

"What time is it?" Will gasped as Mike passed a thumb back and forth over his nipple, hissing through the jolt of pleasurable ache that shot down to his cock when Mike pinched and rolled the bud.

"I don't know. I don't care. We have time."

"Seemed impatient to get going before."

"Was I? Doesn't sound like me at all."

Will didn't answer and sprung into action. Fine. He wanted to play now.

He pushed off the counter and led Mike backwards from the bathroom to their bedroom, and shoved Mike down onto the bed. Mike's legs spread on muscle memory as Will shouldered his way in, already grappling at Mike's belt buckle.

Will's mouth was on Mike as soon as his pants and briefs were shoved partially down, out of the way only enough for Will to get at hot skin, mouth watering for it. Lips sealed over the leaking tips, savoring the taste like he was breaking a hunger strike. His talented tongue, his lips stretched and sliding down. Breath harsh through his nose. He was drooling around it, working his jaw to take Mike down further, now the impatient one.

He gagged on Mike's length, too eager, and received a soothing hand cradled his face to slow him down. Mike said as much out loud. Will didn't want that. He wanted to look pretty and he wanted to be used.

He pulled off and sat back on his heels, looking up at Mike. Make up mostly still intact, save for the smeared pink around the corners of his lips - some was left on the skin of Mike's dick. Will saw it, wanted to lick it off.

Soon enough.

Watery eyes. Wide. Pleading. Mouth open, tongue out. And Mike was the one who took action now.

It was a blur from there. Pants fell the rest of the way to the floor, clank of belt buckle. Big hands cradled the back of Will's skull. Cock slid between perfect, pink lips, heavy in Will's mouth. Will let his body go slack along with his jaw, hyper aware of his shoulders, his neck, releasing the tension and working his throat, fighting the urge to choke as Mike guided him, shallow thrust fucking his mouth and driving into a deep grind as Will swallowed him down.

So wet. An entire mess. Make-up ruined as the perfect, pretty color across Will's lips had mostly disappeared. Mixed with the saliva that dripped down his chin, spat from his mouth as Mike pulled off at at a painful sounding gag, only for Will to dive back in and suck him harder after several heaving gasps, hand flying over Mike's dick until he was ready.

Tears in the mix. Shimmer from Will's cheeks rubbed off on Mike' s hands and wrists, tiny specs of glitter embedded in Mike's pubes. Neither were going to notice that one. Didn't matter. Will gripped the back of Mike's thighs and swallowed and sucked and moaned until Mike pulled back, shallow thrusts until he spilled over Will's tongue and lips, painting him with a new color to replace the one he ruined.

Mike collapsed to the bed, bouncing on the mattress as his legs gave out. Will was pulled along with him, still gripped around his thighs. They laughed together and resettled. Will rested against Mike's bare thigh, draped across him, taking deep breaths after licking his lips as clean as possible at that point. Sticky mouth pressed to pale skin. Mike pet at his hair as he caught his own breath, as variations of "fuck, what the fuck, oh my god Will, what the fuck" were muttered above Will's head. He pressed nimble fingers along Will's jaw, soothing to the sure ache.

Will looked up at Mike and if he hadn't just come, Mike would have stiffened up full right then and there. Stirrings, though, a definite twitch as he took in the sight of Will. Debauched. Ruined. Like a fallen angel, landing directly into his lap. A big splotch of black makeup was smeared across Mike's leg along with a streak of come. Nothing compared to the state of Will.

Will's once so precise and demure eyeliner and lash application was smudged and streaked, bare patches in odd places as the rest followed sweat and tear tracks down flushed cheeks, mixed with the tiny bits of shimmer that remained on his face, overall shiny with spit and everything else.

"How do I look?"

Mike burst out a laugh at Will's quiet question, then hauled the man up into his lap, only to fall backwards onto the mattress together in a tangle of limbs and clothing. Mike kicked off his pants and reached down to start undressing Will, eager to repay and miss their dinner reservation entirely...

[ezrasxfics]

heheheheh

bunnydoll where ragatha gets hurt and tries to hide it but jax takes care of her anyways

you’re an idiot, y’know that?

-

bunnydoll hurt/comfort

-

ragatha pov

it’s just another day, just another adventure. and as usual, jax is being.. well, less than nice to everyone. i mean, it’s not surprising, but i just wish he’d put the effort in to be a decent person for once. for one day. a girl can dream, right?

as the adventure goes on, we all get separated. something about doing.. puzzles of some sort? i’m not sure, i’m having trouble focusing. so, here i was, in a dark room, having no idea what to do. eventually, i decide to walk around. underneath my feet, it felt like carpet, rough and matted. as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. there’s also a dull hum, too, persistent and grating, coming from just to my left. instinctually, i follow it.

well, until it ends, completely out of the blue.

a shiver shoots through my body, as i stand in the pitch black, at a complete loss at what to do.

crack.

crack.

SNAP.

i find myself falling. falling fast, as my body catches on something sharp, ripping a large cut into my arm as a hiss of pain escaped my lips, all air knocked out of my lungs. eventually, i land, taking a few moments to regain my breath before checking my injury. it’s a bit of a doozy.. but i’ll be fine!! i pull one of my sleeves to cover it, making a mental note of the fact that moving it too much would only make it obvious that there was a problem. well, not a problem, right? just a small hiccup.

“raggy??” i hear a voice call out, a distinct voice that was only owned by jax. there was almost.. a hint of concern behind it? or am i imagining things..? of course i am. he has a heart of stone, he’s never worry for anyone!

“..jax..?” i soon respond, after recovering from the surprise. my voice came out a little more high pitched than i intended, making me internally curse. i’m fine. why am i being so dramatic..?

“yeah, it’s me, rags. ya deaf or something?” he calls back out, voice gradually getting louder. he’s approaching. “anyway, you okay? i heard ya fall. didn’t sound pretty.”

is he seriously asking me if i’m okay? no way. i must be dreaming, right?? just a dream, and if i strain my eyes hard enough, i’ll wake up! “i’m okay! just a bit beaten up, nothing i can’t handle!” i force out a laugh.

“you’re an idiot, y’know that? i can hear it in your voice. what happened?” he insists, causing my face to heat up a little. i can hardly believe it. why does he care? why is he making me feel like this??

“i’m not an idiot-“ i quietly protest, an attempt at avoiding the feelings bubbling up inside me. they’re too confusing to handle right now.

“y’are if you think i’m gonna believe you.” he retorts, and i feel myself being lifted from the ground, “don’t bullsh*t me. what happpened?”

“fine— fine.. i think i got cut when i was falling.. it hurts-“ i finally whimper, my arm throbbing as i lift my sleeve, revealing the stuffing slowly falling from it.

“that’ll need stitching. nothing serious, i don’t think. just.. here, i’ll stitch it for you now. and, we’ll tell caine later, get him to sort you out for real. you got that?”

“i think so—!“ i stammer, completely distracted by the feeling of being in his arms. it’s so comfortable.. warm.

eventually, he sets me down against a wall, getting to work on stitching my arm with a pretty, baby blue thread. it was a little messy, but he managed to do a cross-stitch pattern, just to be sure that it’s secure. that i’m gonna be fine.

who knew he cared this much? it’s just.. i didn’t think he would. or, has something changed in him?

“..dollface, i’m done.” he says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “you spaced out. is the pain that bad?”

“no- no, i’m okay!! thank you, jax.. i’m just a little out of it today, mustn’t have gotten enough sleep. i really gotta work on that!!”

“..right. whatever, come on, pomni and gangle managed to finish the puzzle, so the adventures over. thank god.”

“yeah. thank gosh for that, i don’t think this was my favourite adventure. it’s been so spooky—!”

-

thanks for the request, ellie!! i hope you liked this!!!<333

reblogs appreciated!!

[crooked-wasteland]

"Vivziepop sees the aristocracy, the ones who were born into a legacy of wealth, as “hardworking average folks”

So to make this point we need to reaffirm these things:

A) it isn't that Stella is able to abuse him, but the fact that he allows her to despite having all the power in the situation. The use of "allows" is not universal to all victims of DV. This interpretation is extremely specific to the dynamic between Stolas and Stella due to the context of power in their dynamic and outside of it.

If Stella and Stolas were merely separated, she would be entirely powerless. It is also not unheard of for aristocratic marriages made by design to result in separation. King George IV abandoned his wife Caroline after producing their daughter. He literally banned her from attending his coronation.

The amount of power and wealth associated with the upper class, especially those with titles, is something that has to be valued in terms of world building. He didn't need to divorce Stella and could still have cheated and simply been separated from her. The cheating would have been under less scrutiny in such a scenario, and Stella would still have her title as well. Which would have more appropriately centered the conflict over Blitz being an Imp rather than Stolas being a cheater and Stella being an abuser. Which ties Stolas' character and story in better with the overarching plot of a group of working class assassins while still allowing Stella to be horrified and embarrassed and continuing Stolas' story without needing it to overshadow Blitz's story.

B) On the other hand, if the abuse Stella implemented was more psychological and manipulative, where we see her performing politics in a way to elevate her position and Stolas is left relying on her to survive the Goetia courts, then we would understand why he kept her close and tried to make the relationship work. Because she proves he is inferior to her. And she would abuse him to take control over his position and physical capabilities.

But that requires Stella being actually intelligent and shrewd in how she engaged with her friends. It's all about perception, and she would rightfully understand that superceeding her husband would remove her own credibility. So playing nice about him in public only to tear him apart in private would have been a necessity.

C) I'm not sure how many ways to explain the deeper meaning aside from Circuses and Bread. It is a coined political ideology to stave off rebellion when a government is failing. Give them food and distract them. Utilizing art and leisure and wealth to benefit those in power by maintaining goodwill with the proletariat. So when Stolas does the one thing that we know is about his job, it doesn't seem to exist for any reason other than a celebration. It's the Super Bowl Halftime Show but with none of the multi billions of dollars to give it any credibility. Additionally, he is not one of the people simply financing the "circus" and doing an Elon Musk in making himself the center of attention to channel this power towards himself/his position/the aristocracy. He is the performer on stage, playing his part for no coherent reason other than "he's supposed to".

Otherwise, we don't actually see any of the demon aristocracy do anything that looks like a job. Everything else is simply a hobby. Why is Ozzie running a sex toy manufacturing facility? That's not his job as a sin, that's a hobby. Why is he the owner of a club? That's a hobby. Those aren't related to him being the King of Lust, those are not examples of someone with kingly power.

This point falls into the trap that on one hand you can ask “How are the goetia more like celebrities” or you can ask, “In what ways are the Goetia and even the deadly sins, functioning as nobility?” And the crickets respond. This is a dialectic issue where if they functioned as nobility, we should see some evidence of social responsibilities in their practical forms. Taxes, laws, bureaucracy. We see none of that. So the real question has to be how do they function as nobility. The short answer is they do not.

And the point to remember in this category is that Celebrities are still working class. They are wealthy, but working class. They must perform labor. Even in regards to nepotism in the industry, that still requires some form of merit to maintain. While people from the celebrity class can be born into the wealth of their parents, they will need to find other avenues to maintain that wealth. But they are incapable of enacting direct change on a societal level to maintain their wealth.

The peak of their abilities falls upon influence. And the one thing you realize with influence is that it entirely depends on the disposition of those who are being influenced and why they respond to this influence. With nobility and politics, specific behaviors are compulsory. Laws are the guidelines of compulsory behavior. Influence is purely suggestive and unwieldy. A celebrity can support a weight loss supplement and their viewers can either disregard it entirely or suddenly change their whole world view to where they believe there are literal toxins that form in their bodies that need to be released (you have organs for that) and anywhere in between. Influence is a form of power, but those that have it are just as much at the mercy to its outcomes.

You cannot predict how influence will affect others.

The point in belaboring the details is because the exact dimensions of why this doesn't work is wholly unique to Helluva Boss in specific. This goes back to my point in how the show will inherently slant its narrative through the perspective of the creator. So when I say "The Goetia feel like celebrities with noble titles rather than aristocracy" it's a critique of that lens the show is being filtered through.

There is not going to be a singular action or moment that proves my point. The point isn't a flash bang of evidence, but the pervasive attitude she exhibits through the series:

Medrano doesn't understand the nature of power.

Power is not stagnant. It is alive and dynamic, needing to adapt to be maintained. Power has different faces, like we discussed in Hard vs Soft power. But power at best seeks to maintain, and at its worst is a cancer that seems to grow infinitely. It is why people say "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely". Power is alive and an entity independent from those who wield it. Because power can also be lost. And power can be unclaimed, which is called a "power vacuum".

Like a parasite, Power moves to places where it seems to benefit in a chaotic manner, no matter what. To simply maintain and confined Power is to work against the nature of Power.

Because Stolas is doing nothing with his power, it would naturally move away from him and into the hands of someone more ambitious, like Stella. And Stella would seek to maintain control of the power by abusing Stolas. It now becomes a logical progression of how true power behaves.

On the other hand, there is another saying: "Power reveals. When you give a guy the power to do whatever he wants, you see what the guy always wanted to do."

And this quote is going to be slightly reverse engineered. Because how the show depicts power reveals entirely what Medrano thinks power is. And that simple answer is Fame.

And Fame is synonymous with Celebrity. Meaning that the reason I say the characters feel more like celebrities rather than aristocracy is because Medrano cannot actually see the top of that mountain. She thinks the summit, the highest form of power one can achieve, is celebrity status. Not at all realizing that the true peak is miles higher above the clouds.

Again, the quote at the beginning is not going to be found in physical evidence, but as a pervasive attitude through the narrative.

So when Medrano treats the lowest form of power the same as true power, unable to conceptualize the nature of power in the world she has created like a god, it's all because she didn't think world building was all that important.

And I think we've finally come full circle.

I've seen your tweet which criticizes the worldbuilding in Helluva Boss and how the Goetias feel like "Hollywood with royal titles" rather than true aristocracy, and I would like you to elaborate on that, if that's OK.

Thank you so much for this ask as I never got to expand on this point at the time. For those not in the know, the user is referencing this exchange on Twitter.

As much as the elites of our world would like to disperse the truth, the reality is that all societies are constructed around power. Who has power, how and why. That is the fundamental basis of every social dynamic from children on a playground to the politicians in our governments. So the very first thing we should even approach in regards to the narrative is how does power work in this universe?

So when I responded to Elcee in the tweet being referenced, I am evaluating power and power structures. Mainly there are two wholly different constructs of power between something like the aristocracy and celebrities.

The closest thing to an aristocracy we have in our modern day are the financial oligarchs of Capitalism. Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, etc. They have control everything from how our political parties engage with us to how we think based on the wealth they were born into. They curate our lives behind the scenes in ways that sound worthy of a tinfoil hat, but isn't a conspiracy. The wealthy were threatened in the 1970s by an educated proletariate. In response to our questioning the Vietnam war, the higher education that was once free or at least extremely affordable suddenly became prohibitively expensive.

So much so that only the financial aristocracy could access it. Whereas working class individuals are forced to jump through hoops and prove themselves suitably subservient to the existing power of the oligarchy in the form of scholarship applications, teacher recommendations and application letters before being granted access. This is not a mistake or how it's always been, this is by design.

Meanwhile, Celebrities are not elites. While we think of celebrities as being overpaid and living in luxury, it only takes a glance over at Chappell Roan to see the difference. When Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk or any large corporate CEO walks the red carpet, they are treated as royalty. When celebrities walk the red carpet, they are commodities.

Celebrity is the modern day face of the American Dream. Gone are the days of a single family home and a white picket fence. The boom of content over art, luxury over practicality, and excess over comfort is directly the result of selling to the world the idea of capitalistic success, which just amounts to perpetuating the system of turning humans into money. And for as much money as these celebrities make, it has been proven over and over again that they are just as susceptible to poverty as any other working class individual.

Celebrities are products we buy, and when we stop buying them, they vanish.

Meanwhile the aristocracy, the financial oligarchy, thrives in obscurity.

The difference in power is about who still has it when we no longer see them. And the more invisible and pervasive it is, the more real it is. However one as an individual thinks about the celebrity class, they are simple a different type of specialized tool to the true power behind the scenes.

With that differential in mind, the Goetia function more like celebrities rather than CEOs, and while Elcee fails to see the bigger picture, that subliminally tells the audience that someone with the title of prince, with armies sworn to his allegiance and infinite cosmic power, is no different than a working class joe.

This isn't intentional propaganda, however. It's not her trying to further the agendas of Jeff Bezos intentionally. Just like my other post covering how Medrano tries to excuse cheating, not realizing the only time one can argue such a blanket concept of forgiveness for such a betrayal can only happen when the option of choice is non-existent (ie Divorce is not on the table for reasons outside of the characters’ choices), this is the danger of not engaging with media with your mind turned on. You will innately, no matter how careful someone tries to be, engage with the material through the eyes of the creator.

Celebrities and average people are the same: commodities in the face of real power. But Medrano cannot tell the difference between someone like Elon Musk and his employees. She sees the aristocracy, the ones who were born into a legacy of wealth, as “hardworking average folks”. And if you aren't thinking, you might find yourself implicitly believing that too. Deeper entrenching the power they have over you as an individual and society as a whole.

How we got to where we are in our real lives is mirrored in the media we consume. And that isn't an accident.

[0ekkye0]

✨✨✨FMA GIFT EXCHANGE✨✨✨

first of all thank u so much to @rene-of-the-blackouts for creating such an amazing comunity and hosting the event it was so fun and i'm so happy i was able to participate

my giftee was @usaigi 💛💛💛 i had so much fun making this

my prompt was Royai baby in a phoenix onesie

[hinamie]

quick lmhs itafushi because god help me i have Not been able to get the concept of yuuji smiling/laughing into kisses out of my head

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[sysig]

The best! The very best of skeletons! (Patreon)

[brutally-loving]

YES I FUCKING CAN

KANTA!!! He's one of my pirate ocs. He's a kind guy, all things considered. He is flirtatious and silly, always making jokes unless he needs to be serious. He's used to being brushed off, so when someone flirts back, he panics a little. He loves talking and learning about people, and he's quick to try to make friends. Very extroverted.

As requested, he's blonde! Blonde, with burnt orange eyes. He's about 5'11, well muscled, and loves his red clothing. He hasn't been used properly, as the story he was meant to be in was paused by me, but he played a big part. He's the second mate of the captain, and he takes his job seriously despite all his silliness.

This is a man who would treat you right. He loves to spend time with you, always asking about your new hobbies, projects, or just what's on your mind. He loves to pull you into hugs if you'll let him, otherwise he wants to show you new tricks! He has daggers he likes to toss. He's always thinking about what could make you smile, whether it be a gift, a well placed joke, or just a silly activity with him.

Hmm... scenario. Going to the market with him! He holds your hand, fingers intertwined. A little grin on his face as he lists off the things the two of you need. He keeps getting distracted, trying on new hats and jokingly asking you if you think a little dress would look nice on him. He makes shopping less tedious, even when it's a technical chore. He pays close attention to your energy levels, adjusting his own to make sure you're more comfortable. From high energy to a tapered out contentment, he's got you covered! He picks out a little gift for you on the way out of the market, shoving it into his pocket to show you later. If you saw? "What? Noooo, there's nothing there! Not at all!!" That big bright smile on his face tells you he's fibbing.

What if I told you I have 117 OCs. What if I wanted someone to f/o one. What if you told me your type and I handed you an OC. What then. (Could be a reblog game if you wanted it to be idc)