#anyway this was much better than expected!! like. objectively

[elizabeth-mitchells]

go watch Witch Hunt (2020) for some brunette Elizabeth Mitchell as a lesbian mom that drives a pickup truck and saves witches from the government <3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

winston my quant of billions

[lambentplume]

yapping aimlessly tonight

[lily-blue-blue-lily]

im finally completely caught up on 911 and ive only got a few episodes of lone star left and i think... i think, controversially, maybe i now prefer lone star ...

[sir-tuitsum]

An Empress' Harem.

In where, some of the honkai star rail men become your concubine. Focused on how you came to meet them and integrate them into your harem.

Men: Sunday, JingYuan, DanHeng, Gepard, Aventurine, Dr Ratio.

Note: no warning, just a birthday gift to my friend <3 thanks for winning the battle of the sperms. probably choppy and feels rushed, wasn't edited but this is for you <33

second part: here

third part: here

***************************************

Sunday

During your years as a princess, of course your husband would need to come from a strong clan to provide you better supporters in your campaign to become crown princess and later Empress. At the age of 9, your father had already gotten to work and convinced your mother, the then Empress, to betroth to the Oak Family's young son who was close in age to yourself.

You met the 10 year old only weeks later, he was as gentle and man-like as you'd expect from a son of a noble family. You easily sensed his tense demeanor around you, he made it his mission to make sure you were pleased the entire time you both were together.

"I will ask the maidservant to give us treats. What do you like?" You took the Oak clan's son for an outing in the Southernmost Imperial Gardens, it was closest to your father's palace as he would've liked it anyway.

"Ah, are you a fan of treats? What treats do you usually like getting?" He stood quite straight with a hand behind his back, as he should be.

You blinked, "Treats are okay. I usually end up eating Honey Cakes I suppose."

"Honey Cakes are sweet, I think I'd like to have one too."

When you asked him why his face scrunched up a bit while taking a bite, he simply brushed it off and said it was sweeter than he was used to. You assumed the maidservant had messed something up in his cake and asked your father to replace her later on.

Either way, Sunday was your personally chosen future royal consort by the former Empress, your own mother, so naturally you held him to high regard.

He was then and now, the very epitome of a perfect consort. He was given praises by both your mother and father quite often for his etiquette and behavior whenever he came by the Imperial Palace. It was enough his family received praises for their efforts in kingdom management by your mother, also with your father praising his family's influence, seeing you as set in stone for the throne being already favored well by your mother.

You married him as soon as the age was appropriate. On the wedding night, he had frigidly arranged old husbands' tales, from using plants said to boost fertility to saying prayers to placing down objects rumored to be favored by the aeons. He had kneeled before the bed after the priestesses and servants had left the private chambers, his hands clasped in prayer.

"The priestesses gave us enough blessings, no?" You jested. You were not surprised of course, years of being together with him had shown you his sweet devout heart towards the aeons. You found it an entertainment to tease him over the years.

"It is good to show the gods your own faith as well, to ask them personally shows your trust in them and pleases them more after all.." you felt almost bad for interrupting his prayer, with the way he glanced up at you afterwards, "perhaps you should join me, we could give honor to Ena for a stable marriage."

It was not uncommon for you both to spend your leisure time praying. Maybe your fondness for him came from the fact he didn't only run to the gods when something went wry. You remembered the first time, when you were but 11 and had visited the Oak's residence without much of an announcement due to having been passing by and decided to stop to visit him, you had been told the young lord was praying as he usually did around his hour. Your better manners told you to wait but in the moment you had made your way to the family's temple and easily made your way inside, as no one would stop an imperial heir so easily.

You found him on his knees, offerings before him as a painting of Ena laid before him on the wall. He was focused, not noticing your entrance. You observed him from where you stood, the relaxed look on his face wasn't normal for you. He was always at attention and the image of sophistication every man wanted to be, composed at all times. The gentleness of him this time wasn't the expected one of his stature, something about the moment almost felt intrusive. You were quiet in your strides towards him, having a closer look at his face now, you assumed it was the dim lighting of the candles but he looked like a different person. You looked forward at the image of Ena then kneeled next to him and clasped your hands together as well. It just felt right.

Praying with the other became something shared between you two when you both found time together.

You shrugged, "I don't see why not."

JingYuan

An incident had occurred during the celebratory banquet in which the pet kitten of a noble had disturbed the peace by causing a servant to lose balance and create a mess. A great disrespect to the royal family, your mother then had chastised the pet's owner publicly and declared the kitten to be skinned alive to teach everyone a lesson of letting creatures run wild in an event like this one.

Well, you found this sentence to be bad, for the kitten at least but your mother's temper was something to be observed carefully, you'd rather not make the evening more unpleasant for her. Or yourself.

It would be three days later when you'd hear noises when you were taking strolls after a long day in your lessons to clear your mind. You had stopped to rest in a pavilion before you'd journey your way back to your palace and heard it. You told your servants to wait for you at the pavilion as you made your way towards the noise as stealthy as one could be, peeking from behind a wall, you saw a boy perhaps older than you kneeling before a bush. There was a bowl next to him and his hand was stretched into the bush.

"pspspspsps-" you had heard from his mouth, ringing confusion bells in your head.

Then you saw it, the pearl white kitten itching out from the bushes only to be attacked with immediate petting from the young boy. That cat looked an awful lot like the cat ordered to die. It shouldn't be, as you saw the peeled skin yourself. It shouldn't be, what person in their right mind would walk straight into a death sentence like this. This definitely wasn't the cat sentenced to death.

So, you watched the should-be-dead kitten make its way toward the bowl of food, meowing in gladness then going right back in to continue eating.

"Does that feel better, Mimi?" The will-be dead boy muttered softly, his tone soft as he ran his hands through the kitten's head.

You felt more uncomfortable when you recognized his face, the amber eyes and the white hair, the black spot on his face-

Jingliu was a popular swordsman hailing from a clan who rose to a respected military family from her great efforts and achievements in conquest. She took in a young distant cousin whose family had fallen on hard times and raised him to take after her and continue her legacy of sword masters. You met this boy after he had accompanied his caretaker to the Imperial Palace for the banquet to celebrate her recent victory. You remembered seeing his face when he had come to greet you and your mother formally before the banquet commenced. You remembered how much your mother revered and praised Jingliu for her military prowess. You recalled thinking the cat faced boy had delicate features.

Military families were highly regarded by the Imperial family. They were considered military when someone received honors and official recognition from the imperial family for carrying out a successful military operation. These families usually aimed to produce soldiers and were determined to ensure all their descendants carry out their military duties for generations. You were curious about Jingliu’s choice to have a man carry on her military legacy though, most unusual.

You looked back at the white haired boy caressing the young kitten like a babe. You admired his idiocy in a sense. His actions were careless and could cause lady Jingliu trouble if he was not careful- this he was not being either. And yet his actions had somewhat touched you.

You also wanted to help the kitten during the banquet, maybe this could be your second chance.

.

.

An invitation was given to the Jingliu's household inviting the now young man to enter a concubine selection for one of the princesses. To his surprise, he was one of the first chosen by her.

Gepard

During your concubine selection, you heard the name Gepard Landau and you immediately decided then and there you would take him as your concubine as well.

In the years before your dynasty sat the imperial throne, the Landaus had supported your family during the civil war. The first Empress of your dynasty had taken a Landau son for her main husband, the royal consort then, the empresses after her had them as apart of their harem for years. This was an easy decision for you.

Moreover, it keeps the Landaus in check, they had weird influence over the imperial military. It would be tricky for you, if Gepard caused any trouble you can't be too strict on him, his family would find way to stick their hands into harem issues and shield him.

Either way, the Landaus are close with the Imperials, this was expected.

With your royal consort next to you, you watched the carriage wheel in with the Landau's sigil, the proud lion, waving from its flag as it pulled up to your palace gates. The custom was that you shared chambers with the concubine on the day they arrive as per tradition. You didn't have much appetite for him. You met the Landau and his older sister when you were still a girl, you had proudly announced to your father the moment he left your presence that he was beautiful and you should have his hand when you grow older, much to your father's pleasure. Whenever the Landau family bought their children around you were always expected to play with them, this was your pleasure, then you had a strong craving to have him.

Out of sight, out of mind. The Landaus preferred to raise their younger offspring away from court. Gepard and his baby sister would spend their time in the countryside with their father from the capital while their big sister would have to handle the duties as the heir apparent in the palace with their mother. Your childish affections dispersed over time. He was now a thing that was a part of the happier times of childhood more than a person you wanted.

Watching the blonde lion step from the carriage, dressed in the colours of his house and the veil on his head, your mind wandered back to the boy you knew. You recalled you barely looked up during the concubine selection and only said yes because she heard his name and accepted him immediately. You never got to look at him.

As per tradition, he kneeled before you every 2 steps he took until he was directly in front of you. At the final kneel, he didn't rise and awaited his new wife’s command to rise, her official welcome of him into her household. Your expression softened, though only slightly. With deliberate grace, you extend your hand toward him, “Gepard of House Landau,” your voice calm but carrying the weight of tradition. “Rise and take your place among those who are my harem.”

He took her hand, her touch steady and warm, yet undeniably regal. As he stood, the space between them felt both vast and impossibly close.

The things that were not said, unspoken words and battered feelings, it was obvious your feelings didn't go as deep as his. The consummation night was not as deep as he wanted it to be. The words, “Tradition demands our Union but I shall not ask any more of you than what you are expected to.”

Control, commands, longing, he did not expect indifference.

Gepard watched you leave, his thoughts a tempest. The girl he had once played with as a boy had grown into a ruler he could not yet fully understand. But for the first time since entering the palace, he felt less like a pawn and more like a participant in a game he was only beginning to learn

Dan Heng

Your history tutor himself held personal vendetta against the Vidyadharas, if you listened to the man explain the history surrounding them, you'd think he was personally there to experience the atrocities.

Though, you did not dislike him for it. The consequences of the old dynasty's actions did not disappear with time.

389 years ago, before the first Empress of your family overthrew the Vidyadhara Dynasty in the 5 Year War, the final ruler of the Vidyadhara was a man. Male rulers were few to none in the country's history, the only reason Dan Feng found himself on the throne of Gold was from a lack of women in the succession. The fertility of the Vidyadharas has dwindled over time until it reached a point they had to turn to a man to inherit the throne. This was their final mistake.

Undoubtedly, this was the worst sovereign to ever step foot on the throne. The first Empress of your dynasty led conquest against the tyrant and in five years time, the Vidyadhara dynasty were no longer legitimate rulers. They were stripped of their lands, titles and wealth, casted off and put under surveillance by your family after the death of

the tyrant. Bans were carried out against them, stay away from the capital, they couldn't hire help without the approval of the new dynasty, the next head of their family was chosen and controlled by your family, etc.

Now, there were two bans you had to be mindful of; Marriage of a Vidyadhara was determined by your family. Vidyadharas are forbidden from entering the royal harem. For the safety of their dynasty never rising again. This wasn't a problem for you until you were approached by an advisor, speaking of a young Vidyadhara being seeked out by a noble for marriage, a noble of importance. Your natural response would be to ban this immediately, you can't mix Vidyadhara blood with your allies. Perhaps it was the late night meeting but you asked for the noble to bring forth his intended bride.

You will continue to blame the late night, the young man, Dan Heng he called himself, a pretty Vidyadhara from the main branch of the family. I'm your own defense, the pretty boy seemed less interested in the idea of the noble woman being wedded to him and his responses seemed almost robotic. In your own defense, his corrupted blood shouldn't be mixing with your allies. It doesn't matter how you took action to stop this, what matters is the marriage was cut off that night. It doesn't need to be bought up that you made conditions to a serious ban your family pressed on since childhood.

As long as Dan Heng was banned from ever becoming the Royal Consort, having any children he produced inherit your throne and his family did not receive the honors the average concubine’s family was given, you could handle this. You won't regret this later.

Aventurine

In your opinion, the Interastral Peace Cooperation had a too heavy grip on the nations, even empires like your own. You recalled a visit of an ambassador from one in your youth, finding the preparations grand enough for a king to welcome one.

Even as an adult, you found their existence in the continent as a pack of dogs being held on a leash by one person. You weren't stupid enough to deny the good they've done to unite nations in peace but you weren't ignorant enough to deny their less honorable pursuits.

Your ascension to the throne naturally led to an ambassador of theirs being sent to congratulate you. It was a natural tradition for them to appease their royals and for the rulers to accept it.

Here in the banquet hall, you observed the other envoys bought with her as they entered. They approached you first with the proper greeting, Jade took the liberty of introducing herself then everyone else. You masked your disinterest until you noticed the blond, you hadn't seen him before, his frame seemed to be smaller and hidden behind the rest. You leaned back in your seat, looking over his form as Jade introduced him.

“Aventurine, a young man in training by myself.”

“What would you train a man for?” You didn't take your eyes off of him, he must've not grown very fast as a child, for whatever reason.

“Whatever a man can understand, there are good ones out there, like him.” She gestured to the blond with a smirk on her face.

You smiled in response to her jest then looked back at Aventurine, “if he is so good, he can tell me about it.” You motioned to the close spots to yourself at your table, inviting the blond to sit with you instead of his colleagues for the remainder of the banquet.

Well, this training, he won't be able to complete it anymore.

Dr. Ratio

Your first tour as Empress took place in the capital, the pride of the Empire. Your last tour had been when your mother was alive, only last year in another smaller city. On the third day of your tour, your royal consort and yourself were set to visit a distinguished university, personally funded by your family for years.

Education was one of your most prized priorities, there was a pull back before your ascension that you sought out to fix when you were Empress. You made it your own issue to get the universities and lower level schools back on track. If your ears were right, others took advantage when the imperial eyes looked away from it.

In an attempt to not disrupt the school day, you met the staff of the university privately and spoke with them about affairs in education.

Though, mid conversation, a man with purple hair had made his way into the room, abruptly so. His eyes locked rather aggressively with some of the educators in the room but he made his way before you, all proper greeting requirements met and rising when you gave him the permission to. He took a seat close by, opening the book in his hand, “It is my ill manners I arrived so late, it was not intentional on my part and I mean no disrespect to you, my liege.” He bowed his head to you as he spoke, you did not respond with anything but a nod.

“If I am so bold, I want to ask for more than just funding to the schools but for funding to the students as well,” he started, “I just think these funds benefit the schools more than the students. Even with the school funded by your majesty’s kind grace, it's not enough to have their needs met to stay in it.”

Well, it was a pleasant change of pace. You've spent the last half hour here with the inhabitants in the room sending you praises for the funds, then asking for more, then praising you, then repeating. Even his tone was too high to be asking that for someone of his standing. Whatever the person next to you said, you didn't hear it, you lowered your chin to look the purple haired man in the eye.

“And what else?”

The amber eyed man's eyes widened slightly as if he had expected a different response from you. He composed himself quickly after, spinning through his books, “I have personal petitions from my own students in here, some I've tried to sponsor myself, I had them write down their troubles-” you found the reactions of the other folks in the room to be almost comedic. Perhaps a less public inspection was needed.

You rose from your seat, “Perhaps you can tell me more about your students and requests, somewhere else, a stroll or a room to ourselves, whatever you desire.” You looked the man over before making your way towards the door, expecting him to follow in tow. You cared less for what the other women in the room had to say at this moment about your sudden leave, you only looked back to make sure the purple beauty was following you.

Yes, you can't wait to learn more about what he has to say and can do.

*************************************

[koushuwu]

*:･ﾟ✧ SILENT POEM

content (warnings): not suitable for minors, his dialog directly transcribed from the english memory banner, afab!reader, penetrative sex, reverse scoop, emotional sex, lots of kissing, dubcon (if you squint), playful lovemaking, no editing we die like men.

『•• zayne | words: 1,9k | LaDS masterlist ••』

excerpt: he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“rest in my embrace,” he said. and who were you to say no, really? zayne’s arm draped around your middle and pulled you impossibly closer as you lay there with your back firmly pressed against the hard planes of his chest. his abdomen. his warm skin. “just like this.” you pushed closer, adjusted in his arms and barely stifled a giggle when he inhaled sharply.

you’d been coaxing him for a while. ever since he came back from his late shift at the hospital. since the moment you’d offered to help him relax, he’d known exactly what your objective was, but he wasn’t one to deter your plans, so he’d played along. he’d let you massage his sore muscles when you playfully skirted around the true objective of your advances. he’d played along perched you on his lap as you did, wordlessly showing you that your efforts bore fruit. he played along for it all. mostly. he hadn’t been entirely able to help himself when you spilled that water on yourself earlier. he watched the droplets trickle down your neck and no force of nature could have stopped him from diving in. you skin had been warm under his tongue. nothing short of intoxicating, really.

“now–” he said, lips caressing your neck in a scorching kiss, his fingers gently caressing your skin as they moved south. “let me tell you–” he kissed your neck once more, the taste of your skin addicting to him. the breath you sucked in as he did. the heat dusting your features. instinctively, he angled your leg to give himself better access. wordlessly zayne encouraged you to hold still, just like that, when his length pressed against you. “how much i missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” his lips connected with that very spot where your neck meets your shoulder, when he knew you’d hold your leg up for him. the sheets rustled as he positioned himself better and pushed.

your breathing hitched as the tip pressed inside, and you tensed. he grabbed hold of your thigh once more and propped himself up on his elbow. zayne loomed above you, those intense eyes searching your face. your eyes screwed shut, mouth slack was truly a sight for him to behold. something he wished to commit to memory. something for him to cherish. and he did. he really did. even as your entrance clamped down so hard on his cock he could hardly move. maybe he hadn’t prepared you properly. you always did say he was too big for his own good. he should’ve– but it was too late to go back now. he leaned down.

“relax,” he said. hushed. his breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. his lips pressed against your skin. like that, zayne breathed you in, and how did he even expect you to relax like this? with his warm bare skin against yours, his breath against your ear and your neck. with the way his presence loomed behind you. all around you. inside you. how were you supposed to relax? you tried though. you always tried for him. zayne rolled his hips to thrust in a little further. 

“shit–” you couldn’t help but lurch forward in his hold.

“i’m sorry.” zayne’s movements stilled, if only for a moment. he studied you. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. but he knew you. he knew what that face meant. he rolled his hips again, pushing in further. slowly. ever so slowly. your eyes were shining as you turned your face to look up at him.

“zayne–” his name barely more than a whimper, but he nodded anyway. he heard you. he had you. whatever you may need. “kiss me.” the restraints on his self control shuddered at your words. they were so soft. almost like a plea on your lips and he wanted nothing else than to give you what you asked. so he did. his lips pressed against your, and his breath caught in his throat as he yanked the reins hard do keep himself in check. he wanted was going to go slow. he was going to make this last, even if it took every single ounce of his strength.

“does it still hurt?” without hesitation, zayne moved his hand to your hip and pulled, shifting you towards him. angling you to give himself even easier access, zayne slowly, oh so slowly slowly rolled his hips to finally slip in fully, sucking in a breath at your snug warmth welcoming him home. “what about this?” he asked and kissed your lips again. “do you feel better now?” he swallowed your answer before you had the chance to even open your mouth.

playfully, as if to shut him up, as if to ensure him it didn’t hurt, you nibbed at his bottom lip. zayne was big, but you’d known what you wanted and you hadn’t exactly been unprepared yourself, even before he came back. but it was zayne and his mere presence alone was enough to make you shudder. despite coming off as cold, zayne was an intense man, and when he let go, and when he let himself indulge in you. it was overwhelming to say the least. overwhelming, but so good. you shuddered when he whispered into your ear again.

“or… do you want to change positions?” you pressed back against him, squawking when his length pressed deeper. he was almost fully sheathed inside you, yet he kept going so slow. it was hard to think.

“can you—“ you start, voice carrying a tinge of frustration, yet still hushed as if you couldn’t quite bring yourself to disrupt the quiet of the room. “just do it. stop asking all these questions!”

“what do you mean… just do it and stop asking questions?” as he spoke, zayne let his fingers trail softly down your side, leaving a flood of tingles in their wake. your skin felt alive. he watched the way goosebumps rose on your skin. you were perfect. nothing short of. you his home. his safe space. you were his. “didn’t you ask me how much i missed you?” as if to punctuate his sentiment, he pulled back, planting his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. the way your pussy clamped down on his cock had him pulling in a sharp breath before burying himself fully inside you. you felt perfect. entirely and utterly perfect as you squeezed him and wriggled against him. the sounds threatening to spill all swallowed by his lips. his tongue as it ran across your lower lip.

as he broke the kiss, you reached behind you and pulled him back by the neck. you weren’t done. but instead of pressing his lips to yours once more, he instead leaned his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours. there was a little smile there. a sincere, loving one, that made his eyes sparkle, as he looked at you. one that almost covered up the little glimmer of mirth in his eye as zayne still didn’t kiss you. instead, he settled into an excruciatingly slow pace, as he deliberately pushed in as deep as he possible could, with every single thrust. his fingers lightly caressed your hip as he spoke against your lips.

“so much time has passed, no? don’t you want me to say something?” the little smile on his lips morphed to dorn a teasing lilt as he spoke. barely there, yet you saw it clearly. with his fingers grazing your skin, he let them dip down to your front. your eyes fell shut when the pads of his fingers firmly circled your clit. once. twice. then slipped even further between your legs. with two long fingers, he spread your folds on either side of his cock, spreading you even further open for him, earning him an entirely unrestrained and revaborating moan in return.

teeth clamped together when you quickly shut your mouth. you hadn’t meant to be so loud. you weren’t ashamed. you were surprised more than anything, swiftly facing away from him. pressing against the pillow, your breathing became even heavier at the sensation if zayne’s fingers aiding his movements against you. inside you. he gave a barely audible chuckle and leaned into your ear to whisper.

“tired already?” you press further against him, burying your face further into the bed, his teasing not going unnoticed. “you want to sleep?” he asked and you nodded. you weren’t actually tired. you didn’t actually want to sleep. you both knew that. but if he was going to tease you, then you might as well play along.

when zayne’s breath fanned against the shell of your ear, you shuddered. your skin felt scorched as he pulled you impossibly closer, fingers slipping through your folds as the tip of his cock kissed that spot within you that had your cunt fluttering around him.

“we’re not done here,” he said, your own ragged breathing caught in your throat, teeth now sinking into your bottom lip at his words. zayne was many things, and while a tease wasn’t the word most people would use to describe him, you knew better than most. even with his voice steady, only betrayed by his heavy breathing, his taunts were clear as day to you. and maybe, just maybe you did kind of like that about him. not that you would ever tell him that of course. especially not like this. “quitting halfway isn’t something i would do.”

“let me teach you how to do it then,” you bit out, straining to keep your voice as steady as his, as you looked back up at him and rocked back against his cock, forcing his thrusts to meet with yours. with a hiss, he caught hold of your hip, halting your movements. your attempts at speeding up his pace. not yet. not yet. zayne heaved a heavy breath, then brushed his nose against yours.

“the night is still young. we have plenty of time to learn from each other.” you really couldn’t help but smile at him as you reached up to cup his cheek. he nuzzled against your touch, something that only made your smile grow.

now.

zayne thrust deep into your warmth, finally picking up his pace like you’d wished for him to do. brushing against that special spot within you. as he thrust inside, he caught your lips with his own, swallowing your sounds before they escaped.

“let me hear your voice,” he said, kissing you again. you pinched his cheek, making him draw back. you had half a mind to think he was being a fool for expecting you to let him hear anything while he was kissing you like that. but any semblance of the notion vanished as he picked up his pace further. the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your cunt. of skin slapping against skin. it was intoxicating. you couldn’t help but moan at the way he filled you up again and again. zayne’s breath coming in harsh pants as he grew more and more breathless.

“right now. just like this.” zayne snapped his hips rhythmically now guiding your hips towards his as well. he kissed your lips hard, seemingly unbothered by his state of breathlessness. as if all he wanted to do with what little breath he had, was to share it with you. just like he would share anything else with you. everything. you broke away for air and he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“zayne–”

thank you for reading <3

[fanged-fanfics]

Can I request headcannons for TFP dealing with a reader that has to hug something to fall asleep?

☆ To Have and To Hold — Transformers Prime x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Characters included; Optimus, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Megatron, Soundwave, and Starscream

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Optimus Prime

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He does his best to keep comfort items around for you that you could use if you have any, which includes anything he thinks looks soft enough for you to hold

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He monitors how you act after sleeping to gage if you've rested well or not, and adjusting the items he has for you accordingly

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Offering himself might be a sort of last resort for if you really don't have anything, but he'll state clearly that he doesn't mind if it's for your wellbeing

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pretty stationary while recharging, he's easy to hold onto since he doesn't tend to move much and there's little risk of him squishing you

Ratchet

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's seen similar behavior out of bots he's met before, so he's not unfamiliar to the idea. He'll offer old comfort items he has lying around from those types of patients for you to use

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's protective of the items when you aren't around, making sure no one messes with them and they're always clean and ready to hold when you need to rest

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Like Optimus, he'd offer his presence as a sort of last resort, though he'll try to hold out as much as possible since he figures sharing a berth with him wouldn't be very comfortable for you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He recharges on his side, one arm wrapped around you to make sure you're in no danger of falling off or getting too close to his frame while you're sleeping

Wheeljack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 His first suggestion would honestly likely be to build you something you could hold onto, but like always it tends to fall through when he tries

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He offers his assistance right after, noting that he's basically the cuddliest you could get from the Autobots (in his opinion anyways)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The one problem is he moves around quite a bit as he recharges, shifting around to keep comfortable. He makes sure to stay still if he feels you snuggled up to him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He falls into regular routine rather quickly, remaking that it's the best recharging he's had in quite a while

Megatron

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He doesn't understand your insistence, but whatever helps you be ready in the morning to do your job doesn't bother him, so long as you're not disrupting anything

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's tried once or twice to hint at different approaches you could take when losing your usual items interfere with training, but he quickly learns it's in one audial and out the other

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Unable to handle seeing you so downtrodden, he suggests that he has a solution for you, and you wait until that following night for him to arrive

ᯓᡣ𐭩 To your surprise, he invites himself in, telling you his plan of being your new item to hold. Only after you agree does he climb into the berth, huffing as he holds you to his chassis

Starscream

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He found out your sleeping preferences by accident, and of course you were worried that he was going to be his usual sly self and use it against you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 After days of silence and no glares and whispers being thrown in your direction (well, no more than usual), you got a little confused

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The next time you two met, Starscream was who approached you. He admitted that he was having trouble recharging, hiding his suggestion for you two to share a berth under claims of it being 'practical'

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You finally interrupted his rambling, accepting his idea. Though he was a little awkward about it at first, he recharged better than he had in months in your arms

Soundwave

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As expected, he doesn't comment on it much. He'll hand you a comfort object if you misplace yours, and keeps the ones you have under his watch to ensure their safety

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You actually end up falling asleep on him one night, clinging to his form having lulled you to sleep, and Soundwave remained unmoving

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You tried ti apologize the next day, but Soundwave didn't seem bothered in the slightest. From then on, whenever he'd see you were tired, he'd offer himself for you to lie on

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He puts aside the annoyance in his processor whenever hearing other Decepticons comment on it, instead focusing on your form against his to keep calm

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- taurus season for you!

welcome back my loves to another tarot/astrology series. how was your aries season? mine was somewhat hellish, i couldn't stop getting sick and what not. in case you haven't read it yet, i also made an aries season tarot post. <3

anyway, taurus season starts on april 20th and will last until may 20th. i will be leaving you with some insights and what not as usual.

as always, this is a collective reading luvs. take what resonates and leave what does not. <3

⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,

pile 1: this pile just screams emotional reconfiguration via divine realignment to me. you've been mentally stalled for a while, caught in some kind of loop between head and heart. but taurus season is here to help you with some tough love, obliterating this imprisoning comfort zone you have created for yourself so far. it's time to step onto better things rather than bedrot (yes it's finally time to leave that cocoon of yours). three of cups so it's connection, community and joy time. you will be FINALLY forced to leave your bedroom and talk to people YAY

you might find yourself being exhausted after spending so much time socializing (not too used to it, are you?) so don't force yourself to go out if you don't want to and take some rest but don't make it a constant thing like you're used to do. it is a great time for healing overall, especially for what concerns the way you connect with others and what you expect from them and viceversa.

blessings: omg something long term is brewing here with the ten of pentacles and i think it could be a relationship due to the two of cups being present. it could also be a career or a project or emotional security that finally lasts. you're also going to be finally feeling stronger, you might even notice some improvements health wise or routine wise. could also sign up for a new sport or the gym or whatever, great month overall. enjoy it!

challenges for this season: there's a bit of a tunnel vision here about this urge to act and push forward, you might find this a stressful month because you will be putting a lot of pressure onto yourself. zero chill at all. with the eight of wands reversed, it's like the universe is throwing up traffic cones and saying not yet. plans stall, messages don’t send, some objects could be breaking. you feel like you're shouting into the void. and the more you try to force it, the more things just don't budge lmaooo this season is here to test your patience babe. slow your roll and be okay with divine detours, most of the time they're there for a reason, the universe might be trying to protect you from something. a lesson in stillness.

pile 2: someone girlblossed too close to the sun here during aries season. this might not be relatable to each and every single one of you but i feel like that you might have been building something only to watch it fall so that you could build something better (could be the end of a relationship, a career change, a new project, a shitty turn of events and so on). you have been holding it down in the meanwhile, making great money moves and decisions for yourself. looks like you’re outgrowing the version of success you thought you wanted, the ace of pentacles and three of pentacles say a new path is being planted, slowly, with actual collaborators this time. people who get your vision and most importantly, you. two of wands adds a little restlessness, like you’re staring out the window of your penthouse wondering if there's something more. good news: there is. things can always get EVEN better.

what's blossoming for you: a calm transition, think clean breaks, peaceful exits, soft landings. you are being guided into your queen of wands era. stepping back into your magnetic, powerful, slightly smug self. people are noticing. you're in your main character era again, and you didn't even have to try that hard. you might find yourself getting sexier and prettier this month. it's glow up time.

challenges for this season: you could find yourself being obsessed with structure and control, you're clinging so hard to structure that anything spontaneous, emotional, or vulnerable feels like a threat. you could refuse to relax and bottle all your emotions deep inside you until you simply explode. some of you might have assimilated one of my favorite sayings too close to your heart: "freedom is being in charge of your own destruction" which is true, but does it really have to happen? that's up to you to decide. my advice is to not bottle everything up, don't repress your anger or sadness, find a way in which you feel safe to express those emotions. let it all out my unstable princess.

pile 3: mmh, taurus season begins with the devil card for you pile 3, a spotlight on attachments: toxic relationships, power play and desires you keep feeding even when they burn you out. there could be some karmic cycles you need to become aware of so that you can stop them. the devil isn't here to destroy you but it's here to show you that you need to amplify your self awareness, think about those patterns in your life the last month and wonder about what that could be about, i'm sure there's a karmic cycle there. mid taurus season, things turn hot, fast, and a little ego-boosting. the spotlight’s on you with the six of wands, recognition, admiration, maybe even a touch of fame (or infamy!!!). you’re magnetic, confident, and very hard to ignore. give what you can, receive what you deserve.

positives: the end of taurus season could also indicate an ending for you, something unsustainable or bad for you will finally break and it will feel extremely freeing to you. out of that comes the empress, pleasure and beauty. your confidence and joy become real once they're rooted in truth, not performance. lots of people will be drawn to you but you'll be careful with them since your standards are going to be much higher now. hallelujah lmao

challenges for this season: okay so i'm going to hold your hand when i say this...as i said, there's a karmic cycle ending here and the wheel of fortune confirms it. the issue is, it will bring change you won't necessarily like. your inner control freak might spiral because it's going to be more like an inevitable turn of events which you won't be able to stop until your lesson is over. no, you're not doomed but your anxiety brain will try to convince you otherwise. you could be also experiencing some bouts of insomnia or troubles sleeping (think like a super weird sleep cycle). the challenge here is to surrender, release the fear and let the universe work its magic instead of clinging onto the old story.

pile 4: this taurus season is bringing some new beginnings for you, especially in terms of skills, passions and career. a month of soft initiation so to speak. this vibe is not dramatic, it is delicate, very similar to slow living. making matcha at 10 am, going for a walk, coming back for lunch and so on. i love that for you. taurus season is laying the groundwork for something long lasting for you or something you have been wanting and dreaming about for a while: a wish, a skill, a connection, or a sense of self. the first half of this season is starting with two pages (wands and pentacles), you're starting new routines or creative endeavors, even if they scare you. knight of pentacles brings you a reminder: it’s okay to go slow. your progress is not performative, it’s real, sustainable, and grounded. you may not learn as fast as you'd like to but the important thing is that you're learning. mid to late month a new energy comes in, a vision starts to get real. you get glimpses of what your future could be if you keep listening to your inner voice instead of external noise. your intuition is louder than usual. trust the nudges. trust the quiet. by the end of taurus season, you’re bathing in blessings. you might find some new friends or more women in your life will show support towards you, there could be also a few breakthroughs on how you treat others vs how they treat you, you could become more compassionate than before. you might even solve a long term beef with someone or forgive someone just because you're that nice. with the world as your last card, a cycle is coming to an end (in a great way), you are completing a chapter! it could be your graduation, closure, something you have been working on for a few years.

challenges for this season: hustled too hard and now you're emotionally concussed, perhaps even spiritually. you are due for an intervention with the judgement and ten of wands here, this season is asking you to put the baggage down so your real self can show up. you have likely been taking care of everything and everyone but neglecting yourself. this combo screams emotional labor overload meets spiritual breakthrough. you don't have to carry it all to be worthy. listen to your inner calling instead of trying to meet everyone else’s expectations. you might find yourself cutting off some people and that can only be beneficial. it was time for them to go anyway.

thank you so much for reading, may this taurus season bless you all. <3

comments, feedback, yapping or reblogs are ofc appreciated <3

[notyourhetloki]

Can I request Wade and Logan/reader breeding kink? 👉👈 both of them too excited about it and competitive? (Can you make reader gender neutral (he/him or they/them or trans ftm (he/him), you can use any terms for genitals and stuff it's ok)

into it (Logan x Reader x Wade)

Reader: he/him (ftm)

/NSFW Logan x Reader x Wade/

A/N: Fuuck I had so much fun writing this, anon! It's a bit short but it's pure porn so I hope you still end up satisfied lol (also sorry about the random gif, I couldn't find a more suiting one lmao). Anyway, hope you like it! xoxo

Tags: ftm reader (reader has a vagina), breeding kink, creampie, they both fuck you, Wade being a fucking joke, Logan is not having it, piv sex (unprotected), porn without plot.

Word Count: 908

—

As soon as you walked through the front door, they were all up in your personal space. Wade and Logan promptly started to take your clothes off, not exactly caring about being gentle.

"Boys! Calm down, there's plenty of me for the both of you!" You tried appeasing, but to no avail.

"And yet is nearly not enough." Groaned Logan, ripping your underwear off with his bare hands. You gasped as his fingers immediately found your sex, rubbing your clit while Wade kissed your neck.

"Sorry about that, doll. We'll buy you another one." Wade whispered into your ear, taking you by the hand and convincing Logan to continue things in the bedroom.

You were basically thrown onto the bed, naked and vulnerable and super turned on. You could already see their hard bulges before they started to take their own clothes off.

"On all fours for us." Ordered Logan, and you gladly obliged. "Attaboy..."

After all their clothes were out, Logan started positioning himself behind you until you heard Wade complain.

"Wait a minute, mutton chops! Why do you think you get to go first?" Wade pointed out.

"Because I can and I will." Logan retorted impatiently, giving your ass a light squeeze.

"Nuh-uh! That ain't fair! I propose a rock-paper-scissors to sort things out, nothing fairer than that." Said Wade holding a closed fist out.

"Fucking hell, fine!" Logan agreed and quickly started the game. They finished the round and Logan played scissors, while Wade played paper.

"Best out of three?" Begged Wade, but the other man didn't care for it.

"Fuck off." Logan pushed Wade aside and started positioning himself again, putting the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You were really wet, so it didn't hurt when he slammed into you. You were full, stuffed to the brim, and you thought it couldn't get any better than that... until Logan began thrusting into you, hitting a sweet spot inside that made you cry out in pleasure.

"Let us hear those sweet sounds you make, boy." Logan said while fucking you. He breathed loudly, grunting and grabbing you at the hips with enough force to bruise. The sounds you made together were obscene, and that turned Wade on even more.

"Gosh... fuck him silly, Wolvie." Wade was jacking himself off, looking closely at Logan's dick in and out of you. "Cum inside him..."

Logan groaned again, more urgent than before. A sudden thought took over him, and he needed to let it out. "I'm gonna breed you, (y/n). I'm gonna fill you up so good... fuck, fill you up with my seed."

"Goddamn!" Said a surprised Wade, not expecting the other man to be so earnest. "That's so fucking dirty... I love it."

"Ah, yes! Please..." You moaned, feeling energy and heat through your whole body. You were being used by him, your body only an object... it turned you on so damn much.

Logan's thrusts began to get even more rough, he was fucking you hard and the sounds he made were animalistic. Soon he turned erratic, his hips faltering in the rhythm he had set. You knew he was close.

He came with a loud grunt, holding you for dear life. Breathing deeply through his gritted teeth, Logan recovered and slowly took his member out of you. A bit of cum dripped from your entrance, and Wade observed everything with a delighted expression.

"I bet I can cum even more in his pussy..." He whispered mostly to himself, but you both heard him.

"You wanna bet, bub?" Said Logan with a satisfied smile on his face. What doesn't a good fuck does to one man's humor?

"Hell yeah, peanut." Wade soon replaced the other man's position and unlike Logan, asked for your approval. "You alright, gorgeous?"

"Y-Yeah... please, give it to me." You moaned as you felt his cock entering you, stuffing you up again.

Wade was a bit gentler with his hands, grabbing you thoughtfully at the places you weren't bruised. But his rhythm... he was still a beast.

"Fuuuck, you feel so good, pretty boy." He moaned, not stopping for a second.

"Hmm, Wade... Logan... ah!" You couldn't stop making noises and calling out for them, dumb with the feeling of being full.

"Good job, sugar... you're being so good for us." Said Logan while standing beside you, watching as Wade pounded into you with great enthusiasm.

"Shit, I'm close... I'll cum inside your pretty cunt, (y/n)." Wade gripped you even harder and finally slammed his hips into you, his climax followed by a deep moan.

He took a few breaths and slowly came back to earth, removing himself from you with a pop. Even more cum oozed from inside you, a beautiful and sexy sight for the both of them.

"As my partner here mentioned earlier... consider yourself 'bred'." Wade taunted, giving a final slap on your ass and retreating himself to put an arm over Logan's shoulder. "Sooo... about that bet, what is my prize?"

You laughed as you laid on your back to watch them both, exhausted but completely satisfied.

Logan suddenly grabbed Wade by his balls, looking him in the eyes. "You get to keep all of your blood inside your body today, sounds good?"

Wade responded in a higher octave, nodding his head and still holding Logan's shoulders. "Ouchie! So rough!" Logan let him go, but Wade only got closer. "You're lucky I'm into it."

—

[katsu28]

hi kait! idk if you’re writing for him but would you do something for max? maybe just waiting for him to finish a race and he doesn’t really have a good one? and maybe being with him and being calm as he comes down from the adrenaline? thank you!!

happy testing week folks!! sorry this took so long, enjoy <3

max verstappen x reader, 1.2k.

Max Verstappen is a winner. 

Forged through blood, sweat, tears, and some very questionable parenting tactics, he’s ruthless in a car, something burned into him ever since he set foot into a kart at four years old. Years and years of honing his craft, more hours spent on a track than anywhere else, has made him into one of the best drivers in the world. 

He’s got a reputation to uphold, and he can't do that by finishing a race any lower than a podium. 

Sure, any points are good points, but P1 points are winner’s points. Anything less means he’s lost. And Max doesn’t like losing. 

So when he does lose, he doesn’t always handle it the best. Everyone knows to steer clear of him after a bad race—don’t get in Max’s way or he’ll bite your head clean off, don’t even look Max in the eye unless you want yourself faced with the nastiest bitch stare you’ve ever been subjected to. 

There’s a reason he’s called Mad Max. 

But if they knew the real him—the real Max, your Max—they wouldn't be quite nearly as judgmental of him. The Max you know is gentle and kind, immensely protective over his loved ones.

He's not some stone cold killer like people and the media make him out to be. He's a person. Your person.

So it's torture for you, hearing him become increasingly frustrated on the radio this whole race, and then watching him climb out of the car and storm past Red Bull personnel in the garage afterwards.

He’s pissed, that much you can tell. Livid, even. If it were physically possible, he’d probably have steam blowing out of his ears. But honestly, you can’t blame him for his anger. This race was a fucking awful one for the books, full of shit strategies, car troubles, track incidents—you name it. 

GP catches your eye from the pitwall, silently pleading for you to work magical Max powers, but you were already planning on following your angry boyfriend anyways. He’s definitely going to need to cool down before his post race interviews or he might explode from the overload of adrenaline on national television. 

You can already hear Max rambling through the door by the time you approach his driver’s room, and although your Dutch isn’t great, you can make out a few choice words that would make the FIA give him a hefty fine and more community service. A clattering of unknown objects being knocked to the floor comes next, just as you’re expecting. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to come calm him down after a race, and it certainly won’t be the last, but you seem to be the only person Max is willing to listen to when he gets like this. 

Blowing out a sharp exhale through your lips, you push open the door and close it behind you quickly before Max can tell you to go away like he normally does. He might say he wants to be alone, but you know from experience that’s not the case.

He needs someone who won’t judge him, who won’t tell him what he did wrong and what he could’ve done better. He just needs someone to listen. 

Max whirls around, ready to cuss someone out, but then his eyes land on you. You don’t say a word as you scoot around him in the tiny room to sit up on his massage table, only here to be a calming presence for him. Now that you’re here, he quiets down quite a bit, only the occasional grumble escaping his mouth as he continues his pacing. 

It remains just a matter of time before he’s cooled down enough for you to be able to have a conversation with him. He picks up the water bottles he’d knocked off the table before you came in, and once he’s stopped pacing a hole in the floor, you know he’s ready to talk. 

“Shit race, wasn’t it?” He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. You open your mouth to respond, but he points at you before you can say anything, not accusatory in any way. “Don’t even answer that, I already know what you’re going to say.” 

“How would you know what I was about to say?” 

“You’re going to tell me I did good, but I didn’t, I did bad. I fucked it up, there’s no excusing that.” 

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Max pauses, uncertainty flickering across his features. It’s the first emotion you’ve seen from him that isn’t anger. “...You weren’t?” 

“No, I wasn’t,” You reply. He tilts his head, brows furrowed, and you beckon him forwards, into your open arms. He shifts on his heels a beat, as if he’s fighting the urge to let you hold him, but it doesn’t last long before he gives in, dragging his feet towards you until you’ve got your arms secured around his neck. “I was gonna say you did what you could with what you had. Maybe you’d say it was bad, but I’d say it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.” 

“It was bad,” He sighs, letting his chin drop towards his chest dejectedly. “The strategy was shit, the car was shit, the pit stops were—”

“Shit?” You offer, ducking down to catch his eye. A ghost of a smile pulls at Max’s mouth and you take it as a positive sign, tapping along his back almost absentmindedly. 

You stay like this for a while with him, sitting together in silence until the tension in Max’s shoulders begin to relax under your touch. The clench in his jaw slowly goes away, as does the crease between his brows and the hardness in his eyes. 

It seems like just being here with him is doing the trick much better than trying to convince him he’s done a good job when he’s got it firm in his head that he didn’t. You’re still learning things about Max as you go along, but you like to think you’re doing a pretty good job so far. 

Max squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a deep breath, scrubs both hands over his face before focusing in on you again. 

You smile at him assuringly, tilting your head. “Ready for your interviews now?” 

“I’d be better if you could come with me.” 

“Unfortunately I’m not Red Bull personnel, so no, I can’t. But I can wait for you outside the media pen until you’re done.” 

“You could be.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right outside then,” You hum, patting his chest lightly. 

“Not that part. I meant you could work at Red Bull. Be part of my team—help keep me in check, keep me calm. Since you know me so well and you’re kind of…already doing it?” 

“So you want me to be your therapy dog?” You ask, raising an amused brow.

“Not a therapy dog, that’s not what I meant.” Max shakes his head quickly. Then he smiles a little too mischievously for your liking. “More like a therapy cat.” 

“Max Emilian Verstappen, are you calling me a cat?” 

“Yes?” He says unsurely, cocking his head. You make an offended noise from the back of your throat. “I mean, no. No, I’m not. I’m just saying, there are certain cat-like qualities that you have, like…a calming presence? And you’re very smart too, and protective, and—am I making things better or worse, because if it’s the latter I will just shut the fuck up right now.” 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

"Oh, one hundred percent."

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[bedlam-barbie]

Crawling back to you

Or Attention part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: In Ho x recruiter!reader ; slight salesman x recruiter!reader for the plot

Warnings: hurt no comfort,some suggestive language, reader has BPD, mentions of mental illness

Summary: 3 months after that faithful night in the club, they meet again, only this time, the Frontman was not going to let her go so easily. 

Word count: 4.2k

Author’s note: I am so beyond grateful for all your comments and likes! I was truly not expecting for you to like my work. I was half expecting it to flop lol. Anyway, I am unsure where to go with this story if I should leave it as a two part or write more. So please tell me if you have any ideas or suggestions regarding the direction it should go in. In other news, it kind of got me excited to write for the Salesman as well. So please let me know if you are interested in a Salesman centric one shot. The Salesman’s name will be Gong Yoo as I am not creative enough.

The room was immaculate, every detail meticulously curated, as though plucked straight from the pages of an opulent design catalogue. Rich, dark drapes cascaded elegantly over the towering windows, leaving just enough of an opening to let the faint shimmer of stars peek through, casting a delicate glow into the space. Furniture in nude fainted colors. The air carried a quiet sophistication, but it felt almost surreal. If she didn’t know any better, she might have believed she’d just had sex in a high-end furniture showroom.

She quietly put her bra and underwear on, starting her search for the rest of the clothes throughout the apartment. The man she had just slept with was watching her every move from the top of the king size bed, an amused smirk on his lips.

“You know most women would jump at the opportunity to spend the night with me”

“Please, you already know I am not most women” she replied rolling her eyes. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“And what do I get if I help you?” he asked coily, slowly moving towards the woman like a predator watching its prey.

Her face turned to meet his, his eyes taunting her looking for a reaction. She tilted her head and gave him an innocent look. One of her hands sneaked around his neck, her fingers playing with his dark locks.

“Nothing” she said simply and then yanked him by his hair downwards. “We have an agreement, Gong Yoo, and I don’t very much enjoy when my toys overstay their welcome.”

“Tsk, and here I thought we were friends” the man replied amused, a sharp knife appearing suddenly, its blade now resting just under the woman’s chin.

Her soft giggle filled the room at the sight of the blade. This was exactly why he was her perfect match in her nocturnal activities. She did consider the Salesman, a friend of sorts. Well, as good of a friend a psychopath can be. Her head moved slightly, enough for the knife to press between her lips. Her tongue danced around the silver metal.

“And I thought you knew who you were sleeping with” she said casually. “Now, I do need to leave, we have an early flight tomorrow morning.”

She let go of his hair and took the sharp object out of her mouth. His body was still pressed to hers, wearing nothing and God he did look good. But somewhere in the back of her mind, was a familiar older face, chiseled to perfection, dark orbs full of secrets that could stare into her soul who knew her inside and out. She quickly dismissed the thought, focusing on the scene in front of her instead.

“How could I forget? It’s not everyday that the games celebrate 30 years. How would you like to be my date?”

She was not easily surprised by the man. She had come to know him almost better than herself in the last 3 years. And much more in the last three months. It all started once the games of 2020 ended and they went out for their yearly blackjack event. The night began as a way to hurt their boss, but the more days had passed she realized she liked the Salesman’s company. Not in a romantic sense, but definitely sexually. It was a welcome distraction from work stress and more importantly. From him.

It was almost unbelievable how she let a man toy with her emotions again. A part of her wanted to yell that she was over the man behind the black mask, that his rejection did not sting at all, that she simply went home with the Salesman that night because she wanted to. Not out of vengeance. Gong Yoo had become in a weird way her safe space. While the man was deeply disturbed, she saw him as predictable. When the words regarding the gala left his mouth, she was speechless. He could read the confusion of her face and smirked.

“Well, darling, we both know why we started our little randez-vous. The Frontman will be there, no doubt with a date, so I believe it would be in our best interest to show up together.”

“Interesting, and what is in it for you?”

“Oh, I am sure you can find a way to thank me that night” his eyes were dark and intense, watching her every move.

“God you truly are a narcissistic psychopath, huh?” she asked giggling like a schoolgirl.

“And you are such a borderline cliché, my dear” his smirked grew. “Do we have a deal?”

“Absolutely.”

There was an undeniable comfort in the rhythm they had fallen into. Their days followed a familiar pattern: each would go about their routine, which, now that the games were over, mostly revolved around endless paperwork and researching potential recruits for the next year. The office was stark and quiet, tucked away in the bustling heart of Seoul. Some days, the real fun began after hours. They’d invent new ways to compete, often over the most ridiculous games, challenges that almost always escalated until one—or both—ended up naked in her apartment or his. The routine was theirs, equal parts playful and intimate, a strange solace in a world that had once been chaos.

The woman couldn’t lie, not even to herself—she wasn’t over the Frontman. In fact, she hated how deeply he still had a hold on her, so much so that even hearing his name felt like a fresh wound being reopened. Every thought of him sent a volatile mix of emotions crashing through her—jealousy, pain, anger. She presumed it was all of them but mostly she felt worthless, abandoned. The demons in her mind weren’t new; they had taken root long ago, feeding on every rejection, every unanswered plea. And every time she recalled that morning, it brought her back to feeling like a forgotten child, desperate for even the faintest trace of love. But she wasn’t that child anymore. She had stopped begging a long time ago.

So his invitation, although unexpected, felt like the right call. Although not wanting to admit it even to herself, it gave a strange sense of comfort that Gong Yoo would be there by her side and she did not have to face their boss alone.

As they stepped into the dimly lit ballroom, her eyes instinctively scanned the space, searching for the black mask—and, more importantly, the man behind it. It was clear he played a significant role in the event’s orchestration. The room demanded respect. Every detail, from the grand chandeliers casting a warm, subdued glow to the meticulously placed furnishings, exuded deliberate perfection. The air was crisp, almost unwelcoming, with stone statues lining the room, their lifeless eyes seeming to watch her every move with an air of expectation.

A symphony of classical music filled the space, the notes rising delicately from a live band tucked into a corner near the expansive dance floor. The atmosphere reeked of opulence and elegance, yet an undeniable chill lingered, making the grandeur feel eerily detached. Conversations hummed softly, muffled by the anonymity of the masks each attendee wore. The VIPs, ever distinct, were adorned in elaborate gold masks, while the guards stood out with their pink ones. Management’s masks, jet black and severe, carried an air of authority, while hers—and those of the other recruiters—were a deep burgundy, striking but unmistakably subordinate.

She opted for a long gold dress. Her gown was a statement in itself, perfectly at home in the opulence of the ballroom. The fabric shimmered like molten gold under the dim light, every movement catching the soft glow of the chandeliers above. The structured corset-like bodice hugged her figure, cinching her waist and giving her the regal posture of someone who belonged in a room like this. The neckline swept off her shoulders, its draped detailing softening the otherwise commanding presence of the gown, leaving her collarbones and shoulders beautifully exposed.

The skirt flowed effortlessly to the floor, its subtle draping at the hip enhancing her curves and giving her an almost statuesque elegance. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just demand attention—it commanded it. Her strappy gold metallic sandals clicked against the marbled floor. Gong Yoo wore a burgundy suit perfectly tailored to his measurements, looking almost like her perfect accessory. They walked arm in arm to the bar.

“You clean up nicely, darling” his voice purred in her ear. “All of this for little old me?” he added mockingly.

“You know it, baby,” she whispered playfully. From the outside, they looked like the perfect couple. Too bad her eyes were looking for a particular figure in the sea of bodies.

And then she saw him, At the grand balcony overlooking the masses. The Frontman was a picture of restrained elegance, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit that exuded authority and quiet sophistication. The fabric was rich and matte, absorbing the dim light that filtered through the grand balcony. Beneath the perfectly cut blazer, a matching black vest hugged his frame, its buttons glinting subtly, accentuated by a delicate chain that trailed from one pocket—a subtle yet striking detail that added a vintage edge to the modern ensemble. His tie, jet black like the rest of his attire, was perfectly knotted, a seamless continuation of his sleek, monochrome look.

Seated on the grand balcony, the ballroom’s muted hum stretched out before him, but his focus remained inward. A glass of deep amber liquor rested casually in his hand, the light from the room catching the liquid’s warmth. His  posture relaxed but deliberate, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling on his sharp features. The boutonniere pinned to his lapel—a delicate arrangement of soft blooms—offered the only contrast, a fleeting touch of life against the otherwise dark, striking uniform. His familiar mask perfectly put onto his face. For just a moment, she forgot how to breathe. It was as if he felt her eyes lingering on him and instinctively went to her.

He raised his glass in her direction and tilted his head slightly before resuming his chat with presumably Il-Nam. The minor interaction made her pulse raise, blood rushing to her ears. God, why was she acting like a stupid little girl with a crush? Was he right that morning? Was she that pathetic? She quickly downed a glass of champagne.

“Atta, girl” Gong Yoo said amused. “ Just remember this is not the place for table dancing”

“Hilarious, does the humor come with the personality disorder or did you pay extra for that?”  she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Who said I am wearing any?” she replied, smirking slightly.

“There she is.” He laughed, a sparkle playing behind those eyes. “Maybe you should stop speaking like that or I might come to collect that favor you owe me.”

“That’s if you can catch me before I turn into a pumpkin, Mr. Salesman. Now come on, I would like a dance” she replied innocently.

“Your wish is my command, darling”

As they weaved their way through the sea of elegantly masked couples toward the center of the dance floor, her gaze instinctively flicked to where she had last seen In Ho. But he was gone. Still, she could feel him—his presence lingering like a shadow, his eyes tracking her every move from some unseen vantage point. It sent a chill down her spine, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Not tonight.

The quartet began a new melody, its hauntingly beautiful notes echoing through the grand ballroom. Taking their positions, she and the Salesman fell seamlessly into the rhythm, their movements effortlessly synchronized. His precision was remarkable, each turn, step, and sway executed with an almost mechanical flawlessness that both impressed and unsettled her. He led with quiet confidence, his hand firm yet gentle on her waist, guiding her through the intricate dance as though they’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

Her gown shimmered with every twist and spin, catching the light as their bodies moved in perfect harmony. For a moment, the rest of the room seemed to melt away, the opulent surroundings fading into the background. Yet, even as she danced, the weight of unseen eyes bore down on her, a reminder that the game they were all playing was far from over.

As Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons no 8 : Winter began to play, a chill swept through her, and with a sudden turn, she felt a cold hand grip her arm, pulling her toward him. Her breath caught in her throat. No—it wasn’t just any man. It was In-Ho. Her In-Ho. God, how she wanted to slap herself for thinking of him like that. With flawless precision, he guided her every step away from the eyes of Gong Yoo.

“In-Ho,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Hello, little dove,” he replied, his tone heavy with menace. “Did you enjoy playing house with Gong Yoo?” His words dripped with sarcasm.

She could feel herself getting angry again. How dare he speak to her this way after he was the one who pushed him towards the other man, himself?

“Funny. Almost as funny as your face that night in the club.” She replied coolly, maintaining his gaze. Although she could not see his face, she felt his body tense up , his grip on her waist hardening as well.

“Are you in love with him?” he asked directly.

“What is between me and Gong Yoo is none of your goddamn business. You are the one who threw me out like a rag doll you were done playing, or don’t you remember that? And now you are doing what? Ambushing me?”

Her words cut through the air like a knife, a sarcastic smile plastered on her face trying not to raise her voice. Although she did love indulging in creating chaos, she believed there was a time and a place. Surrounded by her colleagues and all the potential donors for the games? Not a bright idea. There was a certain way she enjoyed chaos, calculated, ruthless, like a contained flame. Moreover, the woman was very much aware that tonight In Ho was to be selected as the new Host by Il-Nam. As much as she hated his guts, she would put on a show, a pleasant smile and clap for the man. That being said, it was taking everything in her power not to yell and hit him.

“I knew you were not going to pick up my calls so instead I opted for a more discreet way. I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“What is there to talk about? We fucked, I thought you loved me since that’s what you claimed and then you threw me out. I was being a stupid pathetic girl. There is no big mystery to elucidate.”

Even speaking of what had happened, made her feel mortified. How mortifying it all sounded on her lips. Her eyes were searching the crowd for her date, hoping he would swoop in and save her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Serves her right for believing that he was actually a friend.

“If you are looking for Gong Yoo, Il-Nam wanted to speak to him.” The Frontman spoke as if reading her mind. “Your sociopath in shining armor has more important matters to attend to” he added.

Although she could not see her face, she felt a flicker of jealousy in his words. The mask he wore was impenetrable, but something in his voice betrayed him. A part of her wanted to kiss his worries away to tell him how everything between her and the Salesman was nothing but a physical affair. She would have taken him into her arms, taken his mask off and caressed his handsome face. Snap out of it, you are truly pathetic.

“As much as I loved this dance of ours, Sir, I fear, I need to go and powder my nose, otherwise I might have to shoot my brains out” she said, a fake smile playing on her perfect lips.

In-Ho sighed, but he released her as the final notes of the song drifted into silence. She bowed respectfully, her movements precise, and he tilted his head slightly in her direction—an almost imperceptible acknowledgment. For a moment, she stood still, her gaze lingering on him. But then, with a practiced smile, she turned and made her way toward the restrooms, weaving through the crowd.

Her body shook involuntarily, the emotions bubbling up inside her like a storm. A rush of anger, bitter and raw, mixed with an ache deep in her chest. It felt like her heartstrings were being pulled and twisted, as if every step forward was one taken away from the person she used to be. She clenched her fists, her perfectly manicured blood red nails digging into her skin, the sharp pressure enough to draw blood from the palms. The sting spread through her hands, but she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to. It was the only way she knew how to keep the chaos at bay—how to stop herself from spiraling into a panic attack, or worse, breaking down in front of everyone.

Her method wasn’t graceful, but it was hers. Unrefined, perhaps, but effective. It anchored her, forcing her to stay in the moment, to keep the lid on the storm inside.

Once inside the restroom, she leaned against the sink, her fingers trembling as she fumbled for the powder in her clutch. The mirror in front of her reflected a woman she barely recognized: the smile from moments ago still lingering in her eyes, but beneath it, there was something fractured. Something torn. She closed her eyes for a brief second, taking in a steadying breath, and then began to pat her face gently, as if each motion could somehow smooth out the tension knotting inside her.

Her hands moved automatically, as they always did when she needed to hide what was truly going on. She applied the powder with care, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing, the way her mind threatened to break free from its restraints. Each tap of the puff against her skin was a moment of false peace—a temporary illusion of control. She hated it, but at least it worked.

With one final sweep of her hand, she put the powder away and adjusted her hair in the mirror. She could hear the music still playing softly in the background, but all she could focus on now was the quiet rage that swirled within her. She wasn’t ready to face him again, not yet, but she would. She always did.

Taking one last breath, she straightened herself up and walked back into the crowd. No one would see the cracks. She made her way outside in the gardens. A beautiful labyrinth laid before her eyes, flower bushes in her sight. Her hands opened her clutch again and pulled out her case of cigarettes, carefully taking one out and lighting it. As she took the first drag, she felt her heartbeat slowing down, closing her eyes. His scent lingered in her nostrils. Musky and seductive mixed with his body odor. The same scent she spent hours scrubbing off her skin in the hot shower after the night they spent together.

“Can I have one of those?” his voice rang behind her.

“What? Are you stalking me now?” she asked harshly without moving an inch.

“No, the atmosphere was stuffy and my social battery in speaking to the VIPs was slowly drained”

He sounded sincere, she thought, though she didn’t give him the satisfaction of another glance. Without a word, she reached into her bag and handed him one of her Marlboros. In-Ho removed his mask, setting it down gently on the marble fence. The action was deliberate, almost ceremonial, as if the mask itself deserved reverence.

They stood there in an uneasy silence, the kind that hung thick in the air, neither of them willing to break it. The Frontman searched for her eyes, but she refused to meet his gaze, doing everything in her power to avoid it. Instead, she focused on the cigarette between her fingers, drawing in a steady breath of smoke, feeling the burn in her lungs.

She took a sip from the glass of champagne she had grabbed on her way outside, its coldness a fleeting distraction from the heat building inside her. Above them, the stars twinkled, casting a soft glow across the garden, and the faint hum of music drifted from inside the building. If it weren’t for the tension hanging between them, the scene would have almost been romantic. The flicker of stars in the sky, the music, the champagne—everything about the moment was meant for ease, for connection. But there was no peace here, not with him, not with the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

She clenched her jaw and took another drag from her cigarette, determined not to let her mind wander too far.

“You look breath-taking,” he admitted, breaking the silence.

“Thank you” she replied coldly, but his compliment awakened something inside her. Warmth pulled through her body.

“You know, gold was my ex wife’s favourite colour” In Ho spoke, his eyes trailing in the distance.

The woman looked up to him and for the first time he saw how handsome his face was looking under the stars. Although a part of her wanted to quiet him, she decided against it, instead opting to understand where this little confession was going.

“She loved gold and white roses and those American pancakes that I know you also enjoy so much” he continued. Her eyes looked at him with caution, almost testing to see where the conversation was headed.

“What happened to her?” she asked softly.

“She died.” He admitted while taking another drag from the cigarette, looking down. “You know she loved Vivaldi’s seasons, particularly winter number 8. She always said it reminded her of me”

“Cold, sharp, determined. I can see that.” The woman replied quietly. “But also oh so captivating and tragically beautiful” she added, her words more of a whisper to herself.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a fleeting moment, the tension dissolved, leaving only a fragile, unspoken intimacy between them. In-Ho hadn’t expected it, the sudden wave of tenderness that swept through him, but it was undeniable—and strangely welcome. Something ached deep within his chest, raw and unresolved. Perhaps it was the pain of speaking about his late wife after so many years, or maybe it was the way the moonlight kissed her skin, making her seem almost otherworldly, like she didn’t belong to this grim reality they both inhabited.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in the warmth of her shoulder and murmur apologies that had long been buried beneath layers of regret and silence. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was—for everything. But words stuck in his throat, too heavy to form.

Instead, he flicked his cigarette against the marble, extinguishing it with a sharp twist of his fingers. The ember died quickly, leaving only a faint wisp of smoke curling into the night air. His hands drifted back toward the cold, familiar weight of the mask. It was easier that way—to retreat behind the impassive facade, where vulnerability couldn’t touch him.

But for a single beat, he lingered—just long enough for the ache inside him to remind him of what could never be.

“Are you and him a couple?” In-Ho asked suddenly, his eyes going back to her, studying her face.

“No,” she laughed dryly. “I am not that stupid, I am very much aware of the kind of person Gong Yoo is. He is great in bed, but I am not naive enough to think I can save a psychopath”

“Then why are you here, with him?” Curiosity took the better of him before he could stop himself.

The woman hesitated, wondering if there was any point in answering. Silence might have been safer, but perhaps it was the champagne loosening her resolve—or the charged atmosphere pressing in around them. Something inside her shifted, compelling her to seek his gaze, searching for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to find.

Was that jealousy lacing his voice? Pain? Or just cold, detached curiosity? After all, the Salesman had taken away his favorite toy. But was that all she had ever been to him—a possession, something to flaunt and control? The thought twisted uncomfortably in her chest.

She clenched her jaw, torn between bitterness and intrigue, unsure whether she wanted to push him for the truth or leave it buried where it belonged.

“It sounds insane, but I know what I get when I am with him. The lines are clear, I can see his intentions behind every gesture. I don’t have to worry myself to death about what he wants, I already know it. Sex, an accessory on his arm, a thrill. Someone that challenges him. He is easy”

“Unlike me”

“Unlike you” she confirmed while finishing her own cigarette.

[olenvasynyt]

This has been pissing me off for years but I finally made a tiktok about it and I’m just posting it on here too.  So here are a lot of inconsistencies in ACOTAR that piss me off to no end, and one of them is this thing about daematis.  And it is sucha small thing but it is just one out of the countless inconsistencies in SJM's writing that makes me personally not enjoy the series as much anymore.

In chapter 54 of ACOMAF, Rhys explains in his really long "I'm a good guy I swear" monologue that he took away Clare’s pain Under the Mountain while she was being tortured.  

Chapter 54 of ACOMAF: “I broke into Clare’s head when they brought her Under The Mountain.  I took away her pain, and told her to scream when expected to.  So they…they did those things to her, and I tried to make it right, but…After a week, I couldn’t let them do it.  Hurt her like that anymore.  So while they tormented her, I slipped into her mind again and ended it.  She didn’t feel any pain.  She felt none of what they did to her, even at the end.

But in ACOFAS, Feyre gets her first menstrual cycle, she finds out that it’s so much more painful than a human period, but there was nothing Madja, Mor, or Rhys could do for the pain.  

Chapter 5 of ACOFAS: “In place of those monthly, human discomforts, was a biannual week of stomach-shredding agony.  Even Madja, Rhys’ favored healer, could do little for the pain short of rendering me unconscious.”  

...did we not remember that Rhys has the ability to take away pain?  This just tells me that SJM forgot, because that would be an excellentttt opportunity to show more of Rhys being a loving mate with these awesome powers. Rhys is tending to her every need, cleaning Feyre off, switching blankets, stroking her hair:

“Rhys had stayed with me the entire time, stroking my hair, replacing the heated blankets that I soaked with sweat, even helping me clean myself off.  Blood was blood, was all he said when I’d objected to him seeing me peel off the soiled undergarments.  I’d been barely able to move at that point without whimpering…”

If SJM remembered what she wrote I feel like Rhys would have leaped at the opportunity to take away her pain.

And people can say “Oh but what about this”, “well Rhys could just be manipulative and evil or something”, “Well I don’t think Feyre would have let him anyways”, and other such excuses, but when I break the fourth wall, it just looks like Rhys taking away Clare’s pain with his daemati powers was to make him look better in the situation. It was not a proper bit of world-building or magic system-building, because SJM just…forgot.  It is solely to make Rhys look like a good guy in this specific moment and is used for nothing else because she. Forgot.  And I’m pretty sick of SJM just…forgetting about stuff, even if it’s something as small as this.

[howi99]

A Knight second chance 8.5

Velvet: *smirking* So? How did it go?

Russel: *smiling* Oh she loved the idea! I didn't know there was an insectarium in Vale! She really liked the exhibition on the Hymenoptera order. Did you know that bees, wasps and ants are all closely related? Oh and- *Picking up a bag of fried cricket* -they even sell food made of insects! It tastes like chips!

Velvet: *giggling* Well, i'm happy you both seemed to like the place. I went there with my team. *Grinning* My leader was terrified!

___________________________________________

Cinder: ... Excuse me what?

Mercury: *shrug* Roman bailed on us. Said something about not wanting to work with a "Bitch of a Grimm witch". No idea what he meant by that though.

Cinder: *blinking* How did he- What the- But we aren't even at half the dust we need! And he just left!?

Mercury: Well, he did say he wouldn't help with Beacon destruction since that wasn't the original plan. He thought we were going to sell the stuff to the black market. That, he doesn't care for.

Cinder: *groan, thinking about all the logistical problems that are now presenting themselves* Guess we'll have to BUY the explosive then. We won't be able to destroy the Amity colosseum, but that was just a secondary objective.

___________________________________________

Ruby: And so i said "Now that's a katana" And-

Jaune: *looking inside RWBY dorms* Oh? Blake, you still haven't removed your false bow?

Blake: *surprised* W-what!?

Jaune: *frown* Wait, you still haven't done that discussion? Oh and by the way, you do know your parents are expected to come to the tournament, right?

Blake: *panicking* H-how did you-

Jaune: Belladonna. Really, how did no one connect the dots? *Looking at Weiss* Especially you! They are the leader of Menagerie for heaven's sake!

Weiss: *realisation striking her* Oh my god, you are Kali and Ghira's daughter.

Blake: JAUNE!?!

Jaune: Oh and by the way, you are a literal breathing stereotype. And your bow twitches every time you are reading smut. *Smile* Anyway, good luck! *Close the door*

Yang: ... So does that mean i should call you a princess or?

Weiss: *reconsidering everything she knows* H-how did i not see it? They literally MADE the White Fang! Then again, they are pacifists...

Blake: *angry* JAUNE, YOU SON OF A BI-

___________________________________________

Penny: *tilting her head* Why did you do that, friend Jaune?

Jaune: *shrug* Eh, she needs to be pushed out of her comfort zone. Anyway, it's still a lot better than what should have happened. At least she didn't scream at her team that she was a terrorist.

Penny: Oh yeah, she did do that, uh? The memories are a bit vague on that part.

Jaune: I wasn't there. So i didn't have much more to share.

[seredelgi]

Who You Begging?

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

pairing: Fushiguro Toji x Reader, Fushiguro Toji x Fem!Reader

summary: You should know better than to flash Toji with skimpy outfits right before a night out with friends. He should know better than to take you raw. But that's just who he is, a reckless motherfucker that just loves the sound of your voice when you beg for him.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: non-con, dub-con, dom!toji, sub!reader, smut, fingering, sex, vaginal sex, spanking, unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, manhandling (just a tiny bit, she's totally fine), vulgar language?, orgasm control, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding, breeding kink, porn without plot

word count: 2.9k

a/n: A little treat for Toji 'cause the man has me feral. This is basically shameless smut. Although it's tagged as non-con, reader is not opposed to what happens for the majority of the time. I thought about rating it dub-con but the ending is clearly non-consensual, so there. Let me know if I've left out any warnings. I'm no native English speaker so be kind :)

“ ‘K I’m ready” you announce, entering the living room space and taking a few steps in his direction to stand in between him and the TV he’s got on.

Toji's lazy jade gaze tears away from the inanimate object to trail down your figure, drinking in every curve and patch of skin that rests exposed to the cool air of the night, and you even twirl around to give him a full show.

“ Like it?” you ask, then.

He looks at you for a while, hooded eyes trained on the way the skirt you’ve got on falls only a few inches short of the swell of your ass.

A literal tease is what you are.

“ Do I?” he murmurs then, and he softly grabs at your hand, giving it a light squeeze before dragging you towards him, tugging at you and prompting your ass to land in between his spread legs, your back pressed against his toned chest.

“ Isn’t it a bit… Revealing?” he asks, and you feel his steady breaths huffing silently in the crook of your neck, sending a shiver running through you as his hands stroke along the length of your bare thighs.

You shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling.

But you know you can’t indulge. Your friends are waiting for you.

“ We’re going clubbing” you mutter, and you hate the way your voice is already faltering anyway “ What did you expect?”

“Hmm,” his gentle hum reverberates against you as he inhales in your scent. You’ve put a new perfume on tonight, one that your friends had gifted you a few months prior. You still hadn’t found the occasion to try it on, and a night out with them seemed like the perfect opportunity.

You giggle when he laps at your neck rather lewdly, trailing up its length to reach your earlobe and start sucking on it.

“ So, I take it you like the outfit?” you ask playfully, but his hands have started skimming up toward your breasts, and you catch your breath as you consider stopping him.

He palms one in his right hand, squeezing it so hard that you can’t help but tamely mewling in response, and your head falls back to rest on his shoulder.

“ I hate it” he hisses candidly on the skin of your neck, holding you to him like he knows you love so much.

As you feel the shape of his erection pressing against your back you push your ass against it a little, eliciting a hearty groan out of him, and he bites on your skin in return. Your hand tightly grips his knee, and you feel a greedy heat starting to gather in between your thighs, desperate for him already.

“ Doesn’t look that way to me” you say, breaths short as the curve of your ass grinds along his hard-on.

“ You’re such a brat” he lets out, and it’s so hoarse that it makes your insides twirl, it renews a need he had already sated that very morning.

But you want him again.

His hand finally travels across your fluttering stomach and down towards your heat. You can feel it dampening your panties already, can feel the way you throb for him to touch you.

“ I know how to tame you, tho” he whispers in your ear and sweeps his tongue along its outline, turning it flushed red with arousal.

He pushes the hem of your skirt up enough for him to slip past the waistband of your cotton pink panties, and you exhale, your chest heaving up with anticipation. He catches the not-so-subtle hint, dragging his other hand up to grab one of your breasts.

But it’s when his deft fingers make their way in between your folds that you fall apart, your head tilting to side, hiding shamefully in the crook of his neck as he chuckles, evidently pleased at how wet you already are.

“ Look at this” You feel his black hair tickling your cheeks and you press a soft kiss right on his pulse point “ Already dripping for me, huh?”

You keen, nodding faintly against him.

“ Want daddy to take care of it, baby?” he purrs seductively and pushes you flat against him. You feel his dick twitching with need, too.

“ ‘M-hm, please” you breathe, feeling him dragging his fingertips up towards your swollen clit, and you bite hard at your bottom lip, bucking your hips towards his gentle touch.

The one hand that had kept kneading your breasts rushes down to grab your waist, stilling you against his crotch instead.

“ Stay put, brat” he blows out, and it honestly mesmerizes you how quickly his tone can shift from impossibly sweet to harsh, all depending on how good you are at following his lead.

As soon as you still he starts drawing lazy circles around the soft skin of your apex, and you moan loudly, nuzzling your nose against him to make your needs known.

He scouts down again to rest two digits at the pulsing heat of your entrance. His other hand skates along your thigh and nudges it to the side as he whispers to you “ Spread ‘em, baby- like this, yeah”. It’s easy to comply when you’re intoxicated by the knowledge of what he’s capable of doing to you.

“ Such a good girl for daddy, aren't you?”

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of his fingers finally pushing past your wetness, sinking into it and exploring your insides with extreme, agonizing caution.

“ ‘Gonna mark you now, so stay still” he murmurs on the sensitive skin of your neck, and then delicately bites on it, tasting it avidly with his tongue.

When he starts sucking on you his fingers begin slowly pumping in and out of your pussy, prompting the sound of your juices to threaten the already fading lucidity of your dazed senses.

The harsh voracity that he’s reserving to your neck strikes a distinct contrast with the extreme gentleness of his thrusts into your cunt, and it drives you wild how easily he leaves you on the edge of ecstasy, toying with you like a doll.

“ Toji, please” you basically mewl, your legs trembling for him to turn his attention back to your aching clit.

You know he loves it when you beg him, it makes the power play that much more enticing, all the more effective, and you can feel it because he’s impossibly hard while pressed against your back now, and you want him inside of you so bad that you wiggle, trying to make your needs clear. Who cares if you’ll be late to the club, your friends will just have to wait.

“ Shut it, I’m not done” he hushes you, tone as cold as ice, and he slips a few of his fingers past your parted lips, expecting you to suck on them instead of keeping up the pleads that so easily roll off your tongue when he’s got his hold on you.

And of course, you do. You slurp on the length of them the best you can, your eyes teary with need, your arousal already at its peak.

His lips part from the sore skin of your neck with a lewd pop, and you keen around his digits, only to feel him shoving them further down your throat.

“ There” he hums contently and laps at the spot that he’s so devotedly put all that effort onto, proudly looking at the way your tender flesh plies to his abuse and colors a crimson red that perfectly serves his purpose. He wants to make it clear to anyone who dares to look at you tonight that you’re his alone to dispose of.

As his attention finally focuses back on your pussy his jabs into you pick up the pace, and his thumb comes to rest on your starving clit, feeling it swell under his touch as you convulse around him, brought over the edge in a matter of seconds.

You collapse against his chest, weary and consumed by your own high.

“ Hmm, good girl, ‘came so quickly around me baby” he slips his fingers out of your mouth, but keeps a slow pace with the ones in your pussy, overstimulating your clenching walls as you sob silently.

He kisses your temple lovingly, a contact you silently relish in the aftermath of your pleasure.

Then you hear the sudden ringing of your phone, accompanied by its vibrating on the tea table in front of the couch you’re both seated upon. You look at its screen, seeing your friend’s face popping up on it, her bright smile shining on her features as you slowly regain your composure.

You lean forward to pick up the call, but your man’s quicker, wrapping his big hand around your wrist and pulling it around your back. Then he pushes his hips forward, making you fumble onward towards the wooden surface ahead of you.

Your face lands flat against it, your phone vibrating inches away from your eyes as you find yourself bent over the tea table.

“ Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and he sounds devilish like you’ve never heard him be “ I’m not nearly done with you”

�� Toji please, stop. I gotta go” you speak, but he’s deaf to your pleas this time around.

You hear the sound of him hastily fumbling out of his joggers, and you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he’s just so much stronger.

“ Go?” his tone is mocking, and you see your phone go black again, before resuming its chiming as your friend’s messages start crowding the screen “ I don’t think so, baby”

You feel your skirt being roughly pulled up, as well as your panties being drawn down, and you wince when his free hand slaps your ass, making you bite on your lower lip, and most certainly re-awakening a dark hunger you had thought long quenched by now.

He squeezes your ass harshly before smacking it again, and this time around a strangled moan tears free from your throat.

You had tried to restrain from making it obvious how much you like it when he acts like this. Because honestly, you hate that you do. But the task is made impossible by the feeling of your insides twisting as you hear him spit on his fingers before they come to look for your hole again, finding it slick with your juices.

A hearty laugh rumbles from him at that, and it makes your skin crawl.

“ You’re so damn easy for me”

And it’s true. Doesn’t matter if he treats you like a whore, even more so in fact, your arousal grows impatient, it tears apart any shred of resistance you’d like to reserve to him at moments like these.

Especially when you feel his tip eagerly prodding at your entrance, and you whine loudly. Your knees spread further apart on the floor of your living room, and you push your ass up to better accommodate his entrance.

“ Fuck-” he swears, running the tip of his thick cock along your spasming slit “ so compliant”

It drives him crazy, you can feel it in the tone of his voice, and despite how much you fight it, you love it too, the way you so easily bend to his will.

He pushes past your walls, effortlessly enveloped by your slick arousal, and harshly hitting your cervix with one deep thrust.

You cry out, not expecting his intrusion to be so quick, or so intense. It knocks the air right out of your lungs as you feel his weight crashing down on you.

He grunts low and throaty, and you close your eyes shut, bracing for the next shove.

When it comes, you find yourself gripping the edge of the table tightly for balance, biting down on the skin of your hand so as not to make too much noise.

But his thrusts quicken very soon, and he starts drilling into you with ease as your pussy flutters around him, unable to put a stop to the jolts of pleasure coursing through you whenever the head of his cock slams back hard against that sweet spot he knows so well by now.

He’s still got your arm pinned over your back as you’re lulled into a haze, and then he demands you talkative.

“ Wanna go now, baby?”

You shake your head feebly, drooling over the table as he smacks hard against you.

“ No? Wanna stay here?” breathy moans escape his lips in between whatever obscenities he speaks now “ Wanna take daddy deep inside this cunt?”

You nod faintly, hoping that it can be enough of a proper response for him, seeing the state he’s got you in.

“ Fuck- yeah” he groans harshly, and then his fingers let go of your wrist and he grips tightly at each of your hips, guiding you into his thrusts to dig into your insides even deeper “Then take it, baby, you’re so fucking good at it”

Another harsh slap against the sore skin of your ass and tears start to stream down your face, out of frustration or sheer pleasure you have no idea. You just know you need release.

And since he won’t take it in his hands to give you that, your hand reaches in between your trembling legs to look for the sensitive little nub that’s nestled between your thighs, already silently asking for attention.

He takes notice of that and doesn’t spoil the occasion to taunt you about it, of course.

“ You needy little slut” he exhales, the degrading appellative striking a chord with you, and you slam back against his hips, demanding.

He grunts hoarsely and shoves your hand away from your pussy, arising a loud complaint within you. He surely doesn’t intend to rob you of pleasure. Right?

“ Came two times already today, and yet still can’t wait for me to tend to it, huh?”

You whine, starting to grow impatient as his thrusts dial down a little, his pace slow and menacing to your drunken senses. You can feel each inch of him sliding inside of you with extreme ease, his girth stretching you out to perfectly fit his size and making your walls flutter delightfully around it.

“ You know I can give it to you” his words may sound threatening, but his tone betrays all of his impatience instead “ 'wanna hear you beg me for it, c'mon”

You don’t need to be told twice.

“ Toji, please” you give in immediately “ oh, please make me ‘cum”

Even so, his pace remains steady, and you find the way he toys with you infuriating.

But you’re high on it, nonetheless.

“ Who you begging, babygirl?” the tone of his voice husky as ragged heavy breaths tear free of him, the allusion clear in the strain behind it all.

You click your tongue and sigh before giving in.

“ Daddy, plea-ah!”

You don’t have time to finish, he slams back into you with renewed edge as soon as he hears you call him that, a thing you still hadn’t managed to give into, despite his frequent use of it.

He bends over you to look for your clit, finding it drenched in your juices and throbbing from pleasure on itself.

“ C’mere baby, I got you” You hear him purr softly against your ear, and you shiver at his instant proximity. " You can 'cum now"

You’re so close already that all it takes really is a few lazy circles of his on it and you lose it completely, shuddering underneath him, wrapped in the pleasure he’s granted you. Your walls clamp down the whole length of him, milking it so good that you feel his jerks immediately come to a stuttering halt, his cock suddenly beginning to twitch frantically inside of you without so much as a warning.

You flinch, spurting forward on instinct in an attempt to make it slip out of you in time, but his fingers dip harder into your flesh, his hand spreading over your pussy as he anchors you to him.

“ Don’t run away from it baby, wanna feel you squeeze around me -fuck yeah, like that”

You feel every single contraction of his dick inside of you, helpless to the feeling, lost thinking about how quickly his seed could reach your womb as he carelessly fucks it into you, how easily he could knock you up just like that. You weakly try to jiggle away, but it doesn’t stop the tremendously intense jolts of pleasure that engulf you once his warm spend paints your insides white, and you can just feel your walls welcoming it in with delighted little spasms, sucking eagerly as if you were made for it.

And maybe you are, but damn, not right now. It's way too soon to have a baby.

You’re furious with him, to say the least. And you intend on telling him, just as soon as goosebumps dissipate, or whenever words start to seem like something speakable again.

He slips out of you with a satiated sigh, and you feel his ‘cum immediately follow, leaking out of you and starting to stream down your inner thighs. Its warmth is pleasant, yet a reminder of his reckless behavior.

He exhales contently as his hand comes to squeeze your ass again, his grip possessively dipping into your flesh and claiming it his. He gives you a final harsh smack, his tongue gliding along his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you bent over the tea table, your pussy oozing out his semen and dripping down the wooden floor beneath you.

“ Now you’re ready” he smiles wickedly at the view.

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: blood, partial self inflicted pain, bad father-daughter relationship, angst angst angst in this chapter + fluff at the end

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 8: Don’t bleed for someone who never bandaged your wounds.

The next morning begins painfully with an eardrum-crushing ringtone blaring far too close to her head. Her whole body aches, her head fuzzy and vision splodgy as she opens her eyes to light bleeding through the curtains. Her phone buzzes itself off her bedside table, now vibrating against the floor—just out of reach when her arm hangs down the side off the bed. 

It forces her to try and wake up somewhat, properly get out of bed and answer whoever is ringing her at this obscene hour of the morning. She squints at the caller ID, reaching around aimlessly for her glasses simply because her contacts are too far away right now. 

Luckily for her though, Siri decides to read out and announce the message. 

Incoming call from Mark (Dad)

Oh. 

She rubs her face—maybe slightly too rough and nearly certain to leave weird dry-red marks, and swipes to answer the call. She puts her phone to her ear, finally finding her glasses to shove onto her face. “Hello?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep, barely a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Straight from the get go there is no sort of greeting, no apologiosing for waking her up at barely six in the morning, absolutely fuck all.

“Yeah.” She forces herself upright and coughs into her fist, clearly her throat. Someone, or maybe more, is talking right next to Mark about as loud as they possibly can. Every second word they say gets caught by Mark’s microphone, slipping in and out of their conversation. “Do you need something?”

She knows the answer to that already, Mark wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t.

Cutting across his staticky voice is the sound of papers being rustled, “Uh, yeah. I need you to go up to my office and grab the orange folder ontop of my printer, scan each page, and email them to me.” He pauses for a moment, a few actually. Part of her is hopeful for him to add a ‘Please’, or a ‘If you can’ onto the end, but that’s like expecting him to start speaking Russian.

It’s not gonna happen.

“Or do you need me to ask Oscar to come over and do it instead?”

Objectively, that’s much better than her getting a half assed attempt of him showing her any sense of manners. If he organises Oscar to come over to help with the folder situation, then if somehow he finds out that Oscar was here while he was away, they’ll have an excuse for it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” She chews at the corner of her nails, standing up to start getting ready for her day, and date most importantly, even though she’s got hours until Oscar arrives. “I can text him, I think I have his number.”

Think, does—what’s the difference anyways?

“Great.” Luckily he doesn’t question why she would have his number, given that they have near to no sense of a relationship whatsoever beyond speaking a few words to eachother when she’s caught off guard that he just happens to be at her house. 

Well, Mark’s never been particularly observant or inquisitive when it comes to anything involving her. “Can you text him sometime soon? It’s quite urgent.” 

She places her phone on the edge of her bathroom sink, leaning over said sink to struggle with putting in her contacts, “Uh huh, yeah, will do.” Her voice is strained, her concentration far more on her morning routine then helping her dad with sending photos. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go get ready for today. Talk soon,” 

Just as she’s about to hang up, her dad manages to get in three words sideways, “Alright, love you.” 

She’s already pressed end call before those last two words properly set in. 

Love you.

She can’t remember the last time she heard that from him. It doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, said in his voice. Maybe it more so feels like it should be directed towards someone else—Oscar, obviously comes to mind first. Her two fingers feel heavy on her cracked phone screen, now lingering over the lower half of her lockscreen instead of the red cross during a call. 

The grim taste of bile flods her mouth, a tight clench in her stomach accompanying it. She can’t even hear two simple, ordinary words, that most kids hear from their parents multiple times a day without wanting to emptying her stomach of anything possibly left in it. 

Part of her struggles to even attempt to just accept those words and move on. Take them how they are and keep going on with her day. She can’t, no amount of convincing herself that her relationship with Mark just is how it is helps feel better. Love you—how dare he. How dare he unravel all of the work she’s put in over these past weeks, months even.

Years, if she’s honest.

She blinks her contacts in, the stupid saline solution momentarily blinding her before allowing her to see everything too clearly. She immediately considers taking them out again and tossing them in the bin, forcing herself into a word where everything is just slightly blurry—-where colours bleed into eachother, forms mould into unrecognisable shapes, and absolutely nothing makes sense.

Her father makes no sense anyways, maybe it would feel more normal if everything was that confusing. 

She swallows down the bile rising in her throat, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as if that’ll stop the queasiness from spilling out. She grabs her toothbrush, slightly too aggressively that it sends the ceramic cup it rests in flying to the floor, smashing as it collides with the porcelain. 

“Fuck,” Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks as she kneels down, scooping up the pieces. She holds the sharp and jagged edged pieces tightly in her hands. She hates this feeling of a lack of control over her feelings, when she can’t hold it all in and just be brave. 

 It’s stupid—she knows it’s stupid—but there’s no escaping the feeling that Mark’s words weren’t really meant for her. He’s never been the type to throw around affection, atleast not when it’s directed toward her. She can’t remember a compliment he’s given her, a time he’s told her he’s proud of her, when he’s shown a genuine interest in her or anything she’s doing. She sees Oscar get all of that and more though, he gets every bit of affection from her dad that she’s spend her whole life chasing.

At first, she thought he was just closed off. Her mum left the house one day and never returned. As far as she knew, her mother never looked back, not for her or for her dad. At that point in time, she was too young to fully comprehend what had really happened. She was three at the time, and had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ more than she’d ever been so connected to her mother.

So when her mum left, she was too young to even feel too sad about it. Mark on the other hand lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was only 24 when she was born, and he was at the very beginning of his F1 career. When her mum left, he became her sole care taker, and there was no way he’d be able to take care of a toddler full time at tha point when he had to be travelling most weekends to go racing.

As a result, she spent the majority of her childhood living with friends and family of her dad, knowing her father solely from interviews on the tv screen and the few times he could manage to come back and visit. Her earliest memories of him are distant, fragmented—moments snatched in between races or fleeting phone calls filled with too much static and not enough warmth. 

It was everything to her nonetheless. She never had an overwhelming interest in cartoons or any type of kids shows, more often opting for rewatching the same 3 minute interview over and over, wrapped up in a princess blanket on the couch trying to reach out for him. 

Even when he came home, he was different then he was in the home videos she’d watch from years before she could properly understand what was ever going on. She just knew that unlike in those grainy homevideos of their family of three—there were no bedtime stories, no trips to the park, no beach trips. Just a man who showed up, exhausted, distracted, and buried in paperwork or phone calls. 

That’s not to say he was always switched off. When he would return home after a flight into Australia, if it was night, he would come into her room and tuck her in, leave her with a kiss on the forehead, regardless if she was asleep or not. Sometimes, she would intentionally stay up all night when she knew he’d be back in a few hours, just to be awake and see him for those brief few seconds he’d come into her room for.

Each time he’d be home for was fleeting and not even on the cusp of enough time. Before she could even begin to feel like her dad was home again, he’d leave again and she’d find herself back at someone else’s house, some other relative’s care. 

It was the only life she’d ever known, to be fair, and she knew of nothing other than it. She loved her dad, she loved watching him go racing. She loved talking about her dad in show and tell when she’d bring in an old helmet of his or a trophy. He was her greatest pride and joy, all she could ever dream to be.

Once she was old enough to understand why her dad was so distant unlike all the other dads of her friends at school, she formed a belief—a belief that as soon as he retired from F1, he’d be her dad again. A father first, a racecar driver second. 

At twelve years old, she finally got her wish. He announced his retirement from formula one to the world in 2013, and she found out at the same time as the rest of the world did. He came straight home to Australia the night of the Brazilian Grand Prix—the final race of his career—-and despite it being past one am when she heard the front door open and shut, she was still awake.

Her door opened and so did her eyes—-only very slightly though, maintaining a squint so it looked like she was aalseep. She didn’t want to get in trouble for staying up hours past her bedtime. She waited for the kiss, for him to tuck the corners of her sheets so tight into her bedframe that she’d have to use all the force of her arms to squirm out of, for him to whisper goodnight to her—-but it never came.

He just stood in her doorframe, his figure outlined by the dim hallway light behind him. He waited for about a minute at most, not making a noise except for the slight hum of his breathing, then he shut the door, leaving her room back in complete darkness. 

That signalled the end of her dad, and the beginning of Mark. 

And even eight years on, she still feels cold when she thinks about that night. She thinks about trying to tuck herself in as tightly as he always did, but not managing to make it stay, and she remembers pressing the mouth of her favoueite teddy bear to her forehead—a brown bear wearing a blue racesuit, fittingly called Dad—to mimic her return night kiss.

She also remembers crying until the sun came back up, and going downstairs in the following morning to see the door of her dad’s office shut and locked, basically flaunting a ‘do not disturb under any circumstances’ sign. She knew better to go against that, knew that even though she was a kid who just wanted to see her dad—-she knew to be a rule listener, rules were more important then want. 

Those barriers never broke down, only putting more distance between them. She’d waited for the end of 2013 like it was going to be the year her world would forever change. She imagined retirement would bring them closer together, mend any strange drift that him racing around the world would’ve caused. She pictured breakfast together—plates of freshly made pancakes, stacked tall, sopping with maple syrup, and oozing melted chocolate—going on bike rides as the sun warms up the horizon, singing along to radio in the car ride to school, trips to the beach when the weather was warm enough and the waves were strong enough to surf.

Instead, she made pancakes out of a bottled mix—almost always burnt or undercooked. She taught herself to ride a bike, far later than other kids, embarrassingly. She’d clean up her cuts when she’d fall off her training-wheel-less bike, wincing at the burn of antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet. She’d hum along to whatever songs she had saved on her iPhone 4 on the walk to school, and once she was confident enough in her ability, while she bike ride to school. 

There weren’t any beach near enough for her to get to by herself at the age of twelve without an adult bringing her, so she decided she would buy a beach house once she was old enough and spend near to every day either swimming, surfing, or making sand castles.

The first time she can remember him sitting down to talk to her, or at least saying something of actual substance beyond something meaningless and tossed out without a second thought, was him sitting down across from her at the dinner table, and immediately saying he would be racing in WEC the following year. 

She didn’t know what WEC was, she didn’t really care to know anyways. She knew it meant he was going to be gone again, just when she thought she had him back for good this time around. 

“Okay.” She’d looked down at her plate, piled with sausages and roast vegetables, both getting cold from how long she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner. 

Neither of them said anything more that night, and she didn’t wait for him to give her a hug goodnight—he didn’t deserve it, just like he’d decided she didn’t deserve to be tucked in anymore.

Even then, it wasn’t until years later when she’d found out that he’d actually signed the contract with Porsche in Endurance racing all the way back in june that she truly ever let herself feel the pain of the betrayal that night. He was never retiring, never actually coming back for her—he would always love racing more than he’d ever love his own daughter.

She still feels like that little kid, crying in her bed back in 2013 over not getting a kiss. This time, it’s over getting a ‘love you’. Two opposite sides of a coin—a kid not getting the same display of affection they do, and a nineteen year old getting once when she hasn’t in years. Even though she’d felt so betrayed and alienated even back then, she’d never stopped trying to gain his approval. She was always convinced that maybe if she just tried hard enough, if she could do everything right, if she was perfect, then he’d notice her. He’d finally see her, finally be proud. 

She thought that after so many years, she would’ve outgrown it—left behind that little girl who just waited for the day her favourite person in the world felt the same about her.

“Fuck!” It’s the only word that’s managed to leave her mouth since she ended the call. It’s the only word that can begin to come close to how she’s feeling, but even then, it hardly does. She wants to scream, to throw the rest of the broken pieces across the room and watch them shatter even further. Instead, her hands clench tighter, her skin punctured by the rough corners of ceramic. 

Blood trickles down her palms, mixing with the tears that have long dripped down onto the smashed glass. Oscar would think she’s pathetic of he saw her right now, at least she wishes he would. In reality, she knows that Oscar would clean up the mess of the broken cup and then gently sit her down on the edge of her bed instead of having her crouched over in her bathroom. He’d clean up the bloody tears and the cuts—bandaging her hands up so gently. He’d hold her close, wipe away her tears while he says all the right things to make her feel even just the slightest bit better.

She wishes Oscar could just stop being so perfect for a second, wishes he could have a single flaw that she could pick on and belittle him for, make her dad see that Oscar isn’t as amazing as he seems to be.

But he is, and so she can’t even blame her dad for picking Oscar over her—she would too.  

The thought of Oscar is what gets her off the floor in the end. She deposits of the shattered cup and washes her hand clean, still wincing like she did on all those failed attempts of riding a bike. She brushes her teeth, she dries her hands off so the bandages will stay on, and she gets dressed for the day. Her hands shake slightly while she does her makeup, and her bottom lip quivers as she spreads a layer of lipgloss across it. 

But she holds it together. Two words aren’t worth crying over. She’s not that little girl anymore. She’s her own person, she’s more then just Mark’s daughter. She has her own life, her own world that’s separate from her father—sort of. She has Oscar who she loves, regardless of his involvement in racing. She has dreams to travel the world, to get that beach house, to swim every day. She has plans to go to university next year and to finally get out of the house that’s caused her so much heartbreak. 

She can’t grow in the same environment that once destroyed her.

The time on her phone hits 8:50, and she looks her reflection in the eyes. She’s not a little girl. She’s not that little girl. She’s never going to be that little girl again. Until she forces a smile, and it’s the same one she’s had her whole life. 

When the doorbell rings, she takes one last look at herself in the mirror, dragging her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure it lays over her shoulders nicely. Even though the girl staring back at her is completely shattered inside, her exterior is near perfection—her foundation covers the redness of her face, any lingering tears look just like the areas where she applied highlighter, her bitten and swollen lips just look plump with the addition of lipgloss. The bandages on her hands are neat and completely hide the cuts.

If she just keeps herself together a little longer, maybe no one will notice any cracks beneath her surface.

With a deep breath, she heads downstairs and to the front door. After a few moments of gathering up the strength to face someone in her current state—even when its her boyfriend who she loves more than anything—she opens the door. Oscar stands there, a white t-shirt and pair of pale blue jeans. His hair is awfully messy, clearly having had nothing done to it whatsoever. His eyes light up when he sees her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Hi, Osc”

“Hey, baby,” Her face cracks into a smile at the nickname, some of the awful tension finally loosening up. Luckily for her, he doesn’t seem to notice the way her hands are trembling or how glossy and red her eyes are—he’s as normal and warm as he always is.

“Breakfast?” He gestures outside, stepping aside for her. She gives him a small nod, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her darker wash jeans. “Hey, we matched,” He grins at her, getting a giggle out of her. He looks accomplished by that, just getting a small laugh out of his girlfriend. 

She hopes Oscar never feels at all like she feels right now, how she’s felt her whole life. Oscar deserves a life of pure and complete happiness, she believes that genuinely. “We did indeed,” She slips her fingers into intertwine with his. He shuts the door behind her, guiding her towards a cafe he’d found online that’s only a ten minute walk away. 

On the walk to the café, Oscar shoots off on a story from back in Monza about one of the team’s mechanics spilling a coffee on his race suit—an iced coffee luckily. Oscar right by her side paired with the bright sun, a pleasantly warm current temperature and the promise of croissants and doughnuts, she finds it hard to even be upset anymore.

They get a table for two outside, enough in the shade that there’s no painful glare as they try to look at eachother. The service is quick, their table quickly covered with a hot chocolate, a caramel latte, and far too many pastries and baked goods for only two people. Regardless, they dig in straight away, trading drinks and food every so often.

Time flies past them, their drinks grow cold and more food arrives to their table. She tears off a bit of a cinnamon roll and pops it into her mouth just as Oscar starts to talk. “I was thinking,” Oscar says. “Maybe we could drive down to the beach this weekend. Weather forecast is good, waves shouldn’t be too bad.”

The beach—the final, unfulfilled dream from the checklist. Back at twelve, she could manage to everything on her own that she wanted to do with her dad instead. She learned how to make pancakes, even if they were far from perfect. She rode bikes, though it took longer than it should have and resulted in a few too many grazed palms and scabbed knees. She sang along to the radio, filled the silence on her solitary walks instead of in the car. 

But the beach was always out of reach. She had no way to get there on her own, so she would just rely on the impossible hope that her dad would finally look up from his busy life and take her there, just like she’d always imagined they would every weekend. 

It’s not that she’s never been to a beach, of course. There were trips with friends or school excursions, moments that almost scratched the itch, but never quite hit the mark. The dream she had as a kid wasn’t just about the location—it was about being seen, being cared for, about sharing that simple and tender joy with someone who mattered. There was a kind of magic in the way she pictured it back then, in her childish daydreams: her and her dad running toward the water, splashing through the surf, him laughing in a way he never did at home.

The ‘someone’ who matters didn��t matter whether that was with her dad or just on her own. All she knew was that it couldn’t be someone else, either the two of them, or just her.

But with Oscar, everything is different. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to describe that Oscar isn’t like any other guy, how he’s just about the most importnant thing in the world to her.

Even the fact that without even knowing the weight behind it, he just offered that to her. Casually. Without hesitation. Without her needing to ask, or worse, beg. He doesn’t make it a whole big thing, doesn’t put her in the position of feeling guilty for wanting something simple, something that for once isn’t a compromise. 

“Yeah,” she smiles wide, nodding excitedly. Her voice is still soft though, probably incredibly adoring. “The beach sounds great.” Oscar smiles, content that he came up with an idea that she’s so taken with. To him, it’s no big deal, it’s just the beach. But to her, it is. It’s huge, it’s the final piece of her jigsaw. 

She can already imagine it so vividly—the two of them driving down the coast, windows down with the salty breeze whipping through her hair. She can feel the sun hot on her skin, hear the soft rush of the waves as they crash against the shore, can smell the heavy salt of the sea. 

It’s going to be the best weekend of her life, even better than she imagined it would be back when she was twelve.

y/n.webber

liked by lilymhe, zhouguanyu and 2,879 others

y/n.webber best kinda pick me up

user32 where's the top from?

-> y/n.webber na-kd!!

-> user32 thank u omg!

user17 those pastries omggg

-> y/n.webber they were literally to die for, so good 😙🤌

user21 i need a hair tut frrr

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by l.sarge, osc.priv, and 1 other

y/n.priv seen better days

l.sarge oscar cambailsm

-> osc.priv what word is that

-> l.sarge eating your own kind

-> geo.6arge3 pastry on pastry crime

-> l.sarge ????? who r u

-> l.sarge omg its george sorry im a big fan lol

bsf/n love u baby <3 take care of yourself :(

-> y/n.priv miss u sm </3

osc.priv ❤️🥰

last chapter, next chapter

oooofff, rough chapter. honestly, motivation has been nonexistent recently but honestly, writing this chapter felt so easy and enjoyable, it that makes any sense 🥲

anyways, fun beach times in the next chapter + more oscar centric, i promiseeee:)

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet, @zupercoolgirl

[uriswhumpchamber]

I'm here to bring y'all some living doll whumpee propaganda - and I mean living doll, not conditioned whumpee who thinks of themself as an object (those are good but y'all write them better than me).

And I do mean propaganda.

No mess, no proof of someone living having been hurt. Blood splattered means violence happened, but... What is a bit of broken porcelain, or whatever other material left on the floor, if not something to just sweep away and put with the trash?

No chance at salvation. Who would try to save Whumpee, after all? It's not like they're an actual, living, thinking being - yes, anyone else in their situation could (arguably, but in every setting there's at least one revolutionary) be argued as a person, someone could want to save them. But Whumpee is a plaything. Nobody will come for them.

Being made for someone else. Being made, their purpose defined from the start, whatever it may be. Specially good when that purpose is "take a beating without dying or breaking that much". Specially good when it very much isn't, but that's what happens anyway - with Whumpee not being able to even expect it, no matter how clear the signs, because that's just not how it's supposed to be.

Failing at that purpose, when it's the second - because now they're in pain, now they're suffering, and so it doesn't matter anymore what they were meant to do - they can't. And who- what even are they, at that point?

No chance for adaptation. Whumpee isn't a living being, after all: they can't get used to pain, to overstimulation, to discomfort, to stress. They can't grow around things, can't have their body change to save them, in whatever little ways a living being can make themselves survive - no scar tissue, no numbing of the feelings when it gets too much. Whatever happens, they can only take it - and keep taking it, their body responding in the same exact way each time.

The way conditioning works for a being that's meant to be obedient. It's no longer a matter of Whumpee breaking down and becoming obedient, it's a matter of them refusing to be reprogrammed to Whumper's whims - even if everything in their brain is trying to cave in.

The chance for dehumanization to hit even harder. After all, if Whumpee believes themself to be a person, in whatever way "person" can be defined to include them, then what happens when they're shown just how different they are to a real person? What happens when Whumper decides to correct them, no matter what it takes?