#best part the eb

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Considering my issues have gone from ‘lonely little bitch’ to ‘daddy AND mommy issues (ongoing)’ in the school’s eyes, I’m now eligible for a chaplain!

I got to meet her today and SHE’S A HUGE RPG NERD AAAAAAAA ❤️❤️❤️

[ladymercysletters]

NSFW Alphabet - Aemond Targaryen

A/N: very NSFW, obviously 18 + only. Me being horny on main for a full 8 A4 standard issue pages. I've written essays shorter than this. Honestly, you could probably take most of these as individual blurbs in themselves. Feel free to request fics based on any of the ideas floating about in this filth.

Word count: 4,006

High Valyarian Transation

“kostilus … ñuha jorraelza, ñuha mēre … kostōba vala” - Please… my one, my love… strong man

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You might expect him to be cold and uncaring. Especially if your marriage had been arranged by your families. He would of course do his duty by you, but no more. Except it didn’t take him long at all to realise that you weren’t a duty; you were his – and his to take care of and love. After sex of any kind, or even a passionate kiss more than once, he would sink into your space and surround you with softness, lowly checking if you were well and if there was anything he could get for you.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Since losing his eye Aemond has carved his own body into a weapon. Each muscle was built for a particular role and allowed him to defend himself and attack his enemy successfully every time. If he had to choose a favourite body part of his it would probably be his arms. His swordsmanship is something he is something he is very modest about, though he would play it off as being obvious that he had skill but would never gloat about it. He is particularly proud of how he can manoeuvre a blade over his shoulder, twirling the heavy sheet of steel effortlessly to reign down on his opponent’s throat. He decided for definite that he would always train with a sword when he caught you watching his training one afternoon with Cole; he kept a close eye on you as yours never left his body as it moved. He watched as your chest rose and fell with each swoop of the blade and clash of metal, and especially when they paused for a break, and your eyes practically melted the clothes from his body where he stood.

Aemond would never tell you he preferred one part of your body to another. Though when you hide your smile with your hand he is always there to delicately pull it away. He once told you to never hide your smile from him; and whilst he had made it sound vaguely threatening at the time, he never actually told you it was because seeing your perfect lips widen into a brilliant smile made his heart practically leap from his chest with love for you. If he had to pick something tactile, Aemond would also say he loved how smooth and soft your skin was. A complete contrast to everything else around him, Aemond’s favourite part of the day was the end – when he would join you in your shared quarters, chambers, bed, and he could hold your soft form in his arms on your soft bed and you spoke about your respective days.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

At first Aemond would always cum inside you, one way or another. He wasn’t a huge fan of the mess, and neither of you being that experienced he quite naturally presumed as with everything, its best to be tidy. As you grew to know each other and explore what brought each other pleasure quite openly Aemond discovered he loved to see you covered in his cum. It first started when he had slipped out of you as he came, cumming across your open legs. For a short while he stared openly as the white pearlescent mess between your thighs before slowly spreading it further over you, moving his cum up and through the lips of your pussy to stimulate your clit. He was mesmerised with how you looked covered in him, marked as his. He went absolutely feral the first time you pulled off as you were sucking his cock, stroking him and giving small licks to the head of his cock as he lost control - cumming over your mouth before you pulled away to let him finish on your open blouse. When the hot flush had ebbed from his face he lolled his neck to look down at you. Seeing the mess he’d left on your face and his seed slipping down between your breasts and turning your shift translucent made his cock twitch in want.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Aemond would never reveal an ounce of your relationship or intimacies to anyone, not event the sept, but of course there were things that gave him more pleasure than he would grant voice to. More than once, he had thought about his love of it and cursed himself under his breath. He was a cunt-drunk fool. He could deny it all he liked but if the world fell apart tomorrow, he would not notice if he was buried between your thighs. The soft moans he could pull from you when your thighs quivered around his head, or the howling screams of pleasure and the gush of your completion that drove him to ecstasy himself more than once, when you rode his face. He would die your valiant steed if that was what you wanted. The way you would use him, his nose to rub against your bud and his tongue licked through your quivering folds, hands snaking round your thighs to suffocate him more. His hips would cant up, humping the air or the very breath you let out he did not know. But he would make himself a boy once more and spill untouched as you took your pleasure from him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you wed Aemond was not experienced at all. He doesn’t think of what happened to him years ago as any kind of experience. Surely that wasn’t what his duty was, to lay with you would be different – and if it wasn’t maybe you could both carry on without it. But your first night together was different. He knew a lady should not be as experienced as the women in the streets but he was enamoured at your shy touches and looks as he held himself above you. As you explored your pleasure together Aemond found someone he could be truly vulnerable with, who would not mock or push him into doing something he did not wish to. Instead your shaking hands explored his firm lithe muscles, drawing soft fingertips down his back that made his hips jolt involuntarily into you.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Anywhere he can see your face. He’d take you in any position you asked him, or any that fit in the moment, but he’d never deny the most pleasure he gets is when he can see your face when you’re intimate. Missionary, when you’re lying in bed together in the evening – he can move you into whatever shape he wanted but he usually settles for hooking your leg over his hip, getting a better angle to thrust deeper into you. As much as he loves to control you movements and protect you he cannot deny the first morning you rolled him over and mounted him he prayed the gods would take him then and there so he could die in true bliss. Smoothing his hands over your curves as you lifted your linen shift over your head and rolled you hips – Aemonds breath was taken away from him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unsurprisingly he’s not goofy at all. Aemonds emotions have never come out of him in joyful giggles; the only emotion he’d ever let himself express fully before is anger. The most he has ever expressed in humour or light heartedness is when he first heard you whispering in broken High Valyrian to him as he had you against the door of the library. Your soft sighs of “kostilus … ñuha jorraelza, ñuha mēre … kostōba vala” made him beam with happiness against your neck, warmth and a tightness constricting his heart as he realised you had been practicing just for him. He showed his joy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His fine pale hairs that lightly trail down the lower half of his body, though they get slightly courser the closer to his cock and balls they get, barely mark any sort of maintenance – so he doesn’t really bother.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Aemond is far more romantic than anyone gives him credit for. Upon your marriage day, though both of you had barely spoken previously, he took your hand in his whilst you sat beside each other. Under the table where no one else could see and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. On your wedding bed he covered your body with his own. Though there was no bedding ceremony, at Aemonds fiery insistence, he protected your modesty from the empty room with his bare back, your lower halves covered by a thin linen sheet as he settled himself between your legs. His hands often give away his softness towards you. Reaching out for you or lacing your fingers together as you lay with one another.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Aemond doesn’t really like using his fist. He’d much rather have you. When he’s away from you for any extended period he does, with grumbling regert, find that he’s more often than not stiff in the moring. A drawback to you awakening something within him and haunting his dreams whilst he is away. He groans in defeat as his hand trails down his abdomen. Stroking down his shaft before gripping it firmly. He’ll massage himself slowly, imagining you’re with him, doing it for him. Squeezing his balls in his other hand, he can make himself cum to the thought of your body, splayed out on your soft bed for him, calling to the gods only for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He much prefers to be dominant when with you. Mostly because it gives him control over himself but when you fully submit to him he can’t deny it thrills him the most. It first happened one evening, he’d been training all day and had some small cuts and grazes to him. The soothing bath the servants had prepared was doing much to ease the tension in his muscles but the way you tended to him distracted him from true relaxation. You had dismissed the maids, insistent you could tend to your husband yourself, and watching you looking almost like a maid yourself, the steaming water curling strands of your hair that fell from your face. When he was settled in bed you tended to him further, not listening as he told you he’d rather you lay with him to rest – only yielding when he grabbed at your waist, curling his arm around you and pulling you back to bed. As much as you fought in protest at injuring him further Aemond overpowered you. Hiking your skirts up and pushing himself inside you before you could utter another word of rest. Your pretty moans spilled from you as he took you helplessly, loving how your arms relaxed in his grasp and you legs spread further at his intrusion. Yes, Aemond loved to take you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom or chambers are his favourite. He has the freedom to take you wherever and however you please without anyone disturbing you unannounced. He loves the intimacy and comfort of your bed, being able to move into any sort of position you want with ease. Though the balcony at sunrise was one of his most favourite memories. In the quiet of the morning light, with your balcony facing the countryside, open plains the spread towards Hayford and Roseby. Aemond remembers how the light touched your skin as he rolled your shift off your shoulders, pressing reverent kisses to your warm exposed skin as his other hand trailed up your thigh and between your legs.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. We’ve already gone over how Aemond had never thought of marriage as anything other than duty before you; and how your affection and love grew for one another after no more than mere months. His main motivation in wanting you at any time is that you understand him, you love him and he loves you. Of course this he can control day to day; but when your dress is a little more revealing than usual – exposing your neck to him and giving him a better view of your curves as you walk his eye drifts. When your hair is down in soft waves over your shoulders and back Aemond thinks of how it splays so nicely over your sheets, surrounding you like a halo as he treats you like his queen.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would walk over hot coals if you asked him, but he hates the thought of every making you not feel good, or doing something that hurt or made you feel uncomfortable. He also hates the idea of being cornered and pushed into a situation he didn’t want. If you were to back him up into a corner and press yourself against him he would have no complaints what so ever; but if you were to do something he’s never done before without even speaking about it first he would go into an absolute panic and retreat back to the small boy he was the first time it happened.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As we’ve discovered Aemond could die a happy man between your thighs, so he of course prefers giving. But receiving is still one of the pleasures of the flesh he was most surprised to find himself enjoying. His shoulders would untense as you took him into your hot mouth. The feel of your small tongue licking the underside of his large cock and his view of you taking more and more of him into your throat had the meat of this thighs straining. Kisses, he didn’t know kisses could feel so good going down his cock, his breath hitching as you swallowed one, the both of his testicles into your mouth, tongue rolling over and playing with them – laving them before trailing up to the throbbing tip of his cock once more. Seeing you suck so deliriously on his head tasting his seed in your mouth and watching it fall from your face, making a mess of his bride was something that broke the last restraint holding him back from bringing you the utmost pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He has had you every which way – often depending on the circumstances. And he likes both for different reasons. The thrill of taking you wildly where at any moment you may be discovered, or slowly and passionately pulling only the best of sounds from your throat through the entire night… he couldn’t pick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

When the mood strikes Aemond loves to take you in a hurry. Knowing he can have you and make you cum quickly leaves him feeling triumphant, the thought that you were a perfectly serene lady only moments ago – he can leave you a wanton, moaning mess; hair falling down and blouse open. Thighs sticky with your combined mess as he fixes himself only a little to leave when called upon. The image of you holding yourself up against a wall burned into his eye for the rest of the day, all through council meetings and bartering talks with his brother; all he could think of was getting back to your rooms this eve.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As a rule, Aemond would never want to expose you to any sort of risk. He was almost insistent that you would not be intimate anywhere other than your bedrooms; especially when goaded by his brother that surely he would take you everywhere within and outside of the castle walls now that he would finally get his end away. For the first few months of your marriage he maintained his composure, treating you with only the utmost respect as demanded by your marriage and status. But as you grew to know one another, and Aemond’s passion for you warmed as well as his regard for you as a confidant his will slowly slipped. It started with a passionate kiss in the darkened corridors of the keep, on the way back from a feast when you just couldn’t wait for one another. From there it progressed to more frequent instances where Aemond or yourself, would pull each other away from a task or a group, into s quiet corner where no one would notice your intimate embraces – Aemond laying soft kisses up your collarbone or along the back of your neckline. Of course once he gets a taste for the thrill of your love outside of the bedroom he gets all sorts of ideas. The library for one.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is ridiculous. Once he worked out that sex is essentially a form of exercise, he almost starts treating it lie a challenge. How many times can he go, how much can he make you come before you’re begging him to stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t want to use toys on you – or at least hasn’t discovered the pleasure of them yet. Your marriage is still young and he wishes to know your body fully with his own, wanting to pull as many beautiful sounds and finishes from you as possible.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t enjoy teasing himself; he can just about bear when he sees you in the hall wearing one of his favourite dresses – the colour complimenting your tone and the cut of the bodice just slightly lower than normal, allowing him a view of the curve of your breast. Teasing isn’t something Aemond specifically seeks out in you, but when he realises that he has you on a precipice; and he sees the flush in your cheeks, quickness of breath, and the glazed look in your eyes he thinks he may just try and keep you that way for as long as possible – slowly drawing a firm thumb over your clit as he stills his cock inside you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not loud. Obviously – but he does groan softly. First when you kiss him, touch him, and spark his senses. He can smell your hair, taste the small amount of salt on your skin, feel your pulse under his lips as he trails them down your neck. When your hands wonder down to his cock he groans again, and once more when he first takes you. As the pace increases his breath will come out heavier, low rumbles that could be mistaken for thunder if your mind was elsewhere, growing into harsh pants as his hands grip onto you and passion overtakes him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he finally got you pregnant with your first child he was terrified. He, like you, thought that when you conceived it would make him more deliriously happy than he had ever been, but a sense of dread almost immediately overcame him when he thought about how he was going to protect you as you grew his child in your belly. He retreated so fast you thought you had done something for him to hate you, or that the sight of your changing body had disgusted him. You were a sobbing mess for a week, causing the maesters to worry for your condition and the stress on the baby. It was only when one of your most loyal handmaidens searched out the Prince herself and explained your state, did he run as fast as he could to you. Barrelling passed the double guard he’d had at your doors since you announced to find you curled up in bed, face pressed into one of the last shirts he had worn to bed with you that still held some semblance of his scent. The noise sent you bolt upright, blinking back tears as you stared into the eye of your husband. His nostrils flaring as he berated himself internally for your current state. He slowly made his way towards you, kneeling on the bed gently as though you’d fly away if he moved faster, he surrounded you, taking you into his arms and holding you to his chest. The sobs you let out as you curled around him almost broke his heart in two, his eye welling up. After he explained why he had distanced himself from you he vowed to himself never to let you too far from him again – even if he thought it for the best it was not.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Oh we know.

The first time you were intimate with him on your wedding night you barely saw his cock; he was between your legs and covering you almost as soon as he had stripped himself of his clothes. Your first time close and intimate, which you were grateful for as you were shy yourself. Slowly though, as you lay together more, you discovered how truly beautiful he was all over. Your mother had, on the one occasion she discussed what married women are for, told you of what men had between their legs. She didn’t seem all that impressed herself and described it more like an overripe fruit that what his looked like. It was almost pretty, just like the rest of him. Flushed from the tip, a rosy pink colour much like the roses that grew in the gardens – you thought. Pale skin was un-marred and surrounded by fine silvery hairs. Even when soft, as you’d seen many times when he’d risen from a bath or laying together in the morning he was perfect.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Initially Aemond had trained his sex drive to be nearly non-existent. But after three moons had passed Aemond could not imagine not having you nearly every night. He could control himself well when in public, but if you found yourselves in a darkened corridor on the way back from a fest he could quite easily push you into a corner and have you right there; and then again when you did finally make it back to your rooms, tearing the stiff dress from your shoulders and kissing every inch of skin bared to him. He could be a very jealous man if you danced with the wrong lord.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your first night together, he didn’t want to go to sleep. You both lay next to one another, basking in each other’s eyes as you rolled to face each other. You were the first one to close your eyes, slipping closed with a small smile on your face as Aemond brushed a curl from your forehead. He curled an arm over your head, bringing you closer to his chest. He wanted to stay awake longer, wanted to watch your serene features as you slept. But exhaustion caught up to the exhilaration of the evenings activities. Aemonds eyes fluttered shut only five or so minutes after yours. Long lashes splaying across his high cheekbones and an uncharacteristically easy sigh leaving his throat.

[plutoasteroids]

PAC How Will Your Future Spouse's Father (Your Father-In-Law) Feel About You.

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

DISCLAIMER: This reading is solely for entertainment purposes only! I am not responsible for any decisions taken based on my readings.

This is a general reading so if nothing resonates don't take it to heart. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

ASK BOX is always open

TW: MENTION OF NEGLECT AND ABUS3. IF ITS A TRIGGER FOR YOU AND YOU CONTINUE TO READ ANYWAY PLEASE DON'T BLAME ME ITS YOUR CHOICE!

PILE 1

Your father-in-law would view you as something new and different, you may be the complete opposite of the general type of your FS normally goes for but in a good way because I feel your FS doesn't necessarily have the best track record when it comes to picking their partners. Your father-in-law will quickly approve of you it feels almost like they'll say to your FS 'you made a good choice'.

But at the very beginning they may feel a bit unsure about you specifically because of the way you carry yourself, you could be really shy and not talkative or super confident anyways they just won't be 100% sure about you more so because he doesn't have a clear grasp on your personality or even your intention.

Them being unsure will quickly change and the two of you may have a relationship based on understanding or similar values or opinions. You'll have some sort of mutual understanding that will bring you both closer, in the long run they'll for sure view you as their child maybe even as somewhat of a friend.

Your Father-in-law gives me scholar vibes if not heavy lawyer vibes, lawyer, professor, teacher maybe even a priest.

PILE 2

They will feel somewhat withdrawn from you. I don't think your future father-in-law is involved in your FS' life, as in they are around but they never took an active role, so they won't have much of an opinion on you. It seems like they might see you from a distance like maybe through social media.

But from what they know about you they feel like you're very passionate and enthusiastic about life in general because your life will be pretty well. They feel like you have your life together and they like that.

But there is some sadness here mainly relating to the fact that their child found their life partner and are moving on with life and they can't be a part of that. They might do some introspection to try change and get better, they may even try to slowly enter yours and your FS lives.

It feels like they may have been a dead-beat dad for some of you and for other just emotionally unavailable and maybe slightly abus!ve.

PILE 3

Your father-in-law it seems like they may be aware of your existence in their child's life, but they aren't aware of how significant you are but finding out about your significance in your FS life might be somewhat of a pleasant surprise to him.

He will have a positive opinion on you, feeling like you bring some balance and happiness to your future spouse, and it feels like he won't be too active in your life and that of your fs. Like not absent but giving you two space to be your own people and your own couple, but he'll be there when you need advice, or you need someone to talk to.

I think you may give him a fresh perspective on life, and he'll certainly appreciate your views and your opinions. He seems to eb more on the unconventional side.

Random information: He may pay for your wedding (if you want to get married) just because he wants to and it would make him happy to pitch in financially.

He may not be married to your FS' mother. Like he is married to your FS' stepmother, or their partner isn't the biological parent of your FS. I also get the vibe of it being maybe a same sex marriage.

[ghost-1-y]

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.” 

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout. 

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

 “A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr. 

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as. 

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me? 

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?” 

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself. 

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?” 

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you. 

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.” 

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you. 

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?” 

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave. 

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm. 

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted. 

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!” 

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold. 

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you! Apologies for the inconvenience.

[auggieblogs]

heartbreak girl | MV1 (pt.1)

part II

Summary: "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Pairings: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol (and throwing up because of it)

Author's note: Heyyyy, hiii, lovelies. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is heavily inspired by "heartbreak girl" by 5sos, thank you to @navia3000 for requesting this (and thank you for LITERALLY breaking down the song for me😭🫶🏻). I know it's not completely based off the song but I tried my best. Anyways, happy reading, everyone<3

P.S.- This is definitely not my best work but I tried okay??? I really hope y'all like it and hopefully there will be a part 2.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

One thing you should know about Max Verstappen is that he harboured an intense loathing for one person in the world: Connor Smith, your now-ex-boyfriend. Max despised Connor with every fibre of his being. Connor was, in Max's eyes, a complete fuckwit, a lousy boyfriend who had repeatedly let you down. He never made time for you, often left your texts unanswered for hours, and failed to treat you the way you deserved. To make matters worse, he disrespected you, and that ignited something in Max, a desire to punch Connor's face every time he laid eyes on him, perhaps?

On the other side of the emotional spectrum, Max was head over heels in love with you. He was a silent, lovesick puppy, adoring everything about you – your infectious smile, your contagious laughter, your passion for music, and all those little quirks that made you uniquely you. Yet, despite these profound feelings, Max was too much of a pussy to confess any of this to you. His fear held him back, and it was the reason he watched you date Connor, even when he knew you deserved so much better.

But life has a way of unravelling complicated emotions. Connor eventually broke your heart. The pain was excruciating, the emotions raw and overwhelming.

Devastated, you found yourself in a mess, sprawled on your bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka in your trembling hand. Your face was flushed, your eyes bloodshot, and you felt like your world had collapsed.

Max's heart shattered into pieces as he saw you in such a fragile state. Without hesitation, he sank to the floor beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest. You cried uncontrollably, sobs wracking your body, and your breathing was ragged. Max's heart ached as he cradled your head, whispering soothing words to calm you.

Eventually, when your sobs ebbed to quiet sniffles, you looked up at Max. His face was etched with concern, but you hated that. You didn't want to be a burden to him. "He left" you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

"I figured," Max replied softly.

"I'm not the type of person who cries over a boy," you said, tears pricking your eyes again.

Max gently brushed away your tears, his touch comforting. "No, you're not," he said, still holding you close. You felt like throwing up, physically ill from the pain of your breakup. You had loved Connor, despite his flaws, and he had occasionally made you feel loved which only made you feel more confused and lost.

Unable to hold back any longer, you threw up, and Max was right there to help. He rubbed your back and held your hair, comforting you as a best friend would.

"Okay, shh, that's it," he said gently as you emptied your stomach. Afterward, he helped you off the floor, guided you to the sink, helped you brush your teeth, and washed your face. Max even braided your hair and performed your skincare routine for you.

Going to your wardrobe, he selected the comfiest pair of pyjamas and helped you change into them. Max knew he couldn't take away your pain, but he was determined to provide you with some distraction. After cleaning up, the two of you settled in to watch a movie in your bedroom. Max sat on the floor, close to the TV, and you were cozily nestled in bed.

Max still hadn't asked you about Connor because he knew you well enough to know that you would eventually talk about it. And you did.

Hours passed, and you finally mustered the strength to crawl over to Max and rest your head on his thighs. He looked down at you, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry," you said, your voice still trembling.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled by your apology.

"For being such a mess," you admitted, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know you had better things to do today. You shouldn't have to take care of me."

Max leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. "I want to take care of you," he said softly. "You needed me, and I'll always be here for you. You'd do the same for me."

A brief smile graced your lips, but it quickly faded as you voiced your deepest insecurity, "Do you think the reason he left me is because I'm not pretty enough?"

Max's heart clenched at your words, the overwhelming urge to kiss you and hold your face in his hands almost unbearable. But he knew this wasn't the right time, not when you were so emotionally vulnerable. He had to be strong for you.

"He left because he's an idiot, and he doesn't deserve you, y/n," Max said, his tone firm and unwavering. "Looks have nothing to do with it. You're beautiful, inside and out."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you. "He's the only one who's ever loved me. I've never had a boy like me, Max."

Max's heart ached for you, and for a moment, he allowed himself to stroke your hair gently. "You've always been loved," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken emotion. "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Max's confession hung in the air, a palpable tension that enveloped both of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared into his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. The room seemed to close in around you, and the tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "Max..."

[alphajocklover]

Hello, I'm a skinny guy and I'm tired of getting bullied. I hope that my shy nerd brother can become a big buff muscular bouncer who always protects me and loves me. Do you think it's possible?

This is a tough one. The problem with your request isn’t that you want your brother to be transformed into a jock – though to be honest transforming your own brother into a different person against his will for your own benefit is pretty horrible, even for the world of transformation. Ignoring the moral issues, the real issue is that you want him to protect you. You don’t just want him to be a jock, you want him to be a jock who is loyal to you. You want him to be a jock who protects you, a self admitted nerd. I don’t think I have to tell you that most jocks don’t protect nerds, even their brothers. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of nice jocks out there, plenty of athletes who are decent guys. But most of the methods I’ve mentioned up until now don’t turn their victims into realistic, real life jocks, they turn them into stereotypes. Himbos, douchebags, dumb jocks. With how complex people are, transformation methods often have to use stereotypes, since it's easier to change a person into a stereotypical archetype than it is to turn a person into an entirely different and complex person bit by bit. So, most people who are transformed into jocks are stereotypical jocks, and stereotypical jocks hate nerds. Even if he stayed a generally nice guy, there's no guarantee he’ll protect you against his new jock friends. What you need is a way to ensure loyalty, a way to instill loyalty as part of the transformation. Lucky for you I happen to have something perfect for that. As much as I hate to use EB Jewelry products now that they’ve started actively trying to stop me from reporting on them, their dog tags might be the best way to get what you want.

The concept behind the dog tags is pretty interesting, even for the transformation community. Unlike most things EB Jewelry sells, these only come in pairs, and If someone puts one of these Dog Tags on, they’ll be transformed into a dumb, buff, stereotypical jock, but they’ll also become completely loyal to whoever is wearing the other dog tag. Both have to be put on at around the same time to make the connection though, or for any transformation to happen. 

The dog tags are a very powerful transformation artifact, so powerful that EB Jewelry doesn’t actually sell them, and instead keeps them just for the executives. But my Uncle was able to get his hands on a few pairs, and I’m willing to part with one. Kind of.

See, well I’m usually willing to help people with their transformation questions, I try to avoid helping someone transform someone against their will. And transforming your own brother against his will? That’s really not cool in my book. But I don’t know everything about your situation, and I might be wrong. So I’m giving you a chance.

Here's the deal: I’m going to send you the dogtags. But I’m not going to tell you which one is which. When you put on the dog tags, there will be an equal chance that you’ll get the jock bodyguard brother you’re dreaming of, or that you’ll be the one that gets transformed into your brother's loyal jock bodyguard. If you’re so willing to change your brother, you should be willing to get changed too. This way it’s fair. This way, you’re both taking a risk.

Even I don’t know which of the dog tags you’ll get, but either way one of you is getting a loyal, loving jock brother, and either way those bullies are going to think twice before they mess with your family again.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 15 - Yandere!Siren!Yeosang + Predator/Prey & Body Worship

@thesafecafe Said: Hi Jackie! I'd like to request Yandere! Siren Yeosang + Consensual Predator/prey & Body worship for the kinktober prompts! A/n: *Mr. Krabs voice* DAY FIFTEEN! GIVE IT UP FOR DAY FIFTEEN! Lmaooo no, but in all seriousness, I was not expecting this one to be this long. I had a little too much fun writing it. Also, Yan!Siren!Yeosang with a breeding kink was not on my 2024 bingo card, but here we are! Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Monstrous Features, Breeding Word Count: 2,582 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

The cove is near silent, the only sounds heard being the gentle rush of water against the shore. It’s steady, and rhythmic, matching a particular heartbeat as eyes peer above water. Inky black surrounds the faintest glimmer of golden irises, mirroring the way the moon illuminates the surface of the sea, and blending together in perfect harmony.

Below the surface, a tail swishes languidly, keeping him afloat.

The deepest of black scales cut through the water, the richest of golds shining between the veins. His colouring has always allowed him to blend in well with his surroundings, and tonight is no excuse. It’s one of the many reasons why he’s the best hunter in his guild.

Yeosang slows his breathing even further, straining his ears to hear any discrepancies in the area. He knows you’re around here somewhere, but you’ve hidden yourself better than he ever could have imagined.

It irritates him. You should already be in his grasp, pinned beneath him on the shore as he finally claims you as his own. After all, he’s certainly waited long enough for this moment. It’s not like he’s been anticipating mating with you for months now, or anything…

Closing his eyes, Yeosang takes in a deep breath. Stilling his movements as much as he can, he focusses in on his surroundings. The sound of the tide does not change, but perhaps he’ll be able to hear your breathing-

There!

Golden eyes snap open, the faintest of vibrations felt beneath the surface of the water. His head snaps towards a small nook, hidden away behind some rocks. There, ripples dance almost inconceivably across the surface of the water.

A slip on your part may just be your one fatal mistake.

Silently, Yeosang slides beneath the water, submerging himself with the tide and inhaling deeply. The faintest bit of your intoxicating scent drifts in from that little alcove, and he swears he can hear the telltale signs of feet treading water.

He does not hesitate for a moment longer.

Like lightning, he streaks across the surface of the water. Though his movements are quick, not a sound is made, nor a shift in the tide to indicate his approaching presence. Each flick of his tail is precise, anticipation clawing at his chest and threatening to make his heart burst at any moment.

He dives deeper, ensuring that you won’t see him coming as he approaches you eagerly.

Your own movements are as minimal as can be, treading water near the edge of that little hidden alcove. Your body is nearly pressed right against the surrounding rocks, one hand gripping the surface to help keep your balance and hold yourself up. Your eyes watch the only known entrance to this little hiding place like a hawk, darting to look beneath the surface every now and again.

The erratic beating of your heart has seemed to calm for the moment thanks to some breathing exercises you’ve been using. You’ve synced each inhalation with the tide, your chest ebbing and flowing like the water around you. There’s no out-swimming or out-maneuvering the beautiful creature that pursues you while submerged beneath the waves. Your best option is to hide and hope to all hell that you can survive for as long as possible before getting caught.

Sparing another glance towards the depths below, your breath hitches in your throat. Excitement thrums through your veins as you see those all too familiar golden orbs surrounded by the deepest of blacks staring you down.

Your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat once more as you push yourself right up against the rocks. Your hands reach out on either side of you for a ledge, feet sliding against the cool smoothness behind you as he approaches. The fact that he purposely slows his movements the closer that he gets to you only sends a thrill shooting up your spine.

There’s no way out, and now, he’s finally found you.

A pleased, melodic hum fills the surrounding cavern.

“I told you there was no point in hiding.” His deep voice rumbles out, nothing but his eyes breaching the surface of the water.

The way you can hear every word he speaks so clearly, even with his mouth still concealed beneath the waves has a shiver caressing your spine. His piercing gaze stares you down, and you cannot help the way your whole body seems to freeze at the predatory look in his eyes.

Slowly, he begins stalking towards you.

“There’s nowhere to escape, My Precious Pearl.” Another melodic hum fills the air, the water eerily silent around you. “You’re trapped now.”

Flicking your gaze beside his head, you glance the only opening. Bending your legs, you prepare to push yourself off of the rocks, planning to rush passed him as a last ditch attempt to evade your pursuer.

Only, he’s faster.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Yeosang tuts, his arms now securely wrapped around you and pulling you flush against the smooth, sculpted planes of his chest. “You’re mine now.”

Gently, his nose traces over the side of your neck, inhaling you deeply.

A shudder wracks his spine as his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck- you smell incredible.” He coos, arms tightening around your waist. “My Precious Pearl,” he nuzzles into you affectionately, “I finally found you.”

“Yeosang…” Your voice is but a whisper, attempting to free yourself from his grasp.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily.” He growls, pressing you against him ever tighter. “I caught you, fair and square. Finally, you’re mine.”

Your hands come up to settle on his upper chest, eyes nearly fluttering as you feel him beginning to trace his lips against your pulse. The moment he starts pressing kisses along your skin, your lips part, trusting him to hold you steady as he wraps you securely in his arms.

“Oh, yeah?” A shaky exhale is given, leaning the slightest bit away from him teasingly. “Just what part of me belongs to you?”

Yeosang’s eyes flash, another low growl shaking his chest.

“Everything.” His claws dig into your thighs, tracing his fingers up and down your skin. “Your everything belongs to me.”

Sliding your hands up his shoulders and around his neck, your fingers begin teasingly threading through his hair.

“Says who?” Narrowing your eyes, a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.

His tail twitches beneath the water as his eyes flash. “Me.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Yeosang has disappeared beneath the surface of the waves. His hands never leave your body, tracing down your sides and shredding through the minuscule amount of clothing you still have on.

The way his claws feel dancing across your skin has your lips parting in a moan.

His hands encircle your ankles, and your breath hitches. Only, what you don’t expect him to do is push you against the stones, using his strength to keep you balanced and afloat.

Gently, his thumbs begin to caress the inside of your ankles.

“Such beautiful feet.” A melodic hum can be heard reverberating from beneath the water. “I would split the very earth in two should anything befall your path, Beloved.”

The feeling of him leaning in to place a tender kiss to the inside arch of either foot makes you giggle, his hair tickling your skin.

“I will lay waste to anybody at your feet whom should choose to belittle you, cheat you… hurt you.” His eyes flash, glancing up at you from below with an intensity you’ve only ever seen a few times before. “Your feet are mine to wash, and ensure no discomfort ever befalls you again.”

Your heart flutters, toes wiggling happily as Yeosang shifts up your body.

“There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling of your legs wrapped around me, My Pearl.” He continues, tracing his claws gently up your calves. “Such beautiful skin… So soft and smooth…”

Each touch is tender, Yeosang taking his time to admire you properly.

“Mine to worship.” He squeezes the flesh of your inner thighs appreciatively. “Mine to touch. Mine to make shake in uncontrollable ecstasy.”

A soft gasp of his name slips passed your lips, and you swear you can see him smirk from beneath the surface of the water.

“You do not know how beautiful you are, Beloved. I promise to spend every day of the rest of our lives together telling you just how incredible you are.” He hums, taking his time to trail kisses up your inner thighs, nipping at the skin and biting small marks for all to see. “And if anybody so much as questions that, or makes you doubt your worth, I will not hesitate to rid them of their lower halves.”

Nosing his way up your thigh, your breath hitches. You can feel yourself clench around nothing in anticipation the closer he gets to your cunt. Only, to your disappointment, or perhaps, great relief, he brushes right passed your core.

Sliding his hands up the curve of your ass, his fingers finally settle onto the skin of your lower back.

Pressing his face into your stomach, Yeosang inhales deeply. A shudder caresses his spine, his claws digging lightly into your lower back as he holds you close. Soft kisses are placed in a halo around your stomach, his tongue darting out to flick against your skin.

“There is nothing about you that I do not love.” A loving sigh accompanies his words, nuzzling his face deeper against your stomach. “Every inch of you is perfect, especially for me.”

Your hands shift back to his hair, fingers gently threading through the strands as his tail flicks languidly beneath the surface.

“I’ve always wondered…” Yeosang hums softly, peeking up at you with that familiar golden gaze. “Would you let me breed you? Would you let me fill you so full of my seed that it’d be dripping out of you for weeks?”

A whimper escapes you, clenching hard from his words.

His one hand slips between your legs, parting your folds and dragging the tips of his fingers gently over you.

“Fuck- you’re already soaked, Precious,” He shudders against you, fingers finding your clit and circling that swollen little nub slowly. “Are you this wet from the thought of me filling you with my come? Does the idea of me fucking you full of my seed, and claiming you as my own turn you on that much?”

“Yes!” A desperate whine parts your lips, tossing your head back to rest against the rocks. “Fuck- I want to feel you claiming this pussy as your own-“

A choked moan escapes you as he slides a finger into your cunt.

Yeosang chuckles, using his thumb to continue circling over your clit.

“Keep going, Beloved.” His nose nudges against your stomach as he slowly lowers himself between your legs. Golden orbs flash up at you from within the darkness. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Another whimper escapes you as you feel him settle your legs over his shoulders. His head nuzzles against your inner thigh, hair tickling your skin as he adds another finger. Languidly, he pumps them into you, massaging your inner walls as his thumb circles over your clit.

The way your thighs twitch has a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Fuck- Yeosang!” Your hips roll forwards, attempting to seek the most amount of pleasure that you can in this moment. Only, the way he slows the movements of his thumb, practically stalling his fingers as he buries them deep inside of you has you whining for more. 

Meeting his gaze, you understand that in order for him to give you what you want, you have to give him what he wants.

“I want you to claim me!” Your words come out rushed, attempting to grind your hips against his hand. A gasp escapes you as he curls his fingers lightly. “Want you to fill me full of your come until all I can think about is you.”

Your whole body jolts as he removes his thumb from your clit only to lean in and press a chaste kiss to that swollen little bud. The fact that you can feel his smirk against your cunt makes your thighs twitch.

“Been thinking about you so much, Baby,” You admit with a hum. “Been thinking about how good you’d feel buried deep inside of me… about the way your skin would feel pressed against my own as you make me scream your name…”

Yeosang’s pleased growl reverberates against your cunt, his tongue darting out to begin flicking at your clit. The whole while, his fingers never stop their languid pace as they curl deep inside of you.

Not even a moment later, his lips are wrapping around your clit, suckling lightly at you as he grips your ass with his free hand.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I want you to fill me so full of your seed that I’d feel empty without you.” You pant, fingers tightening in his hair. The way you can feel him sucking harder on your clit as you speak lets you know that he’s enjoying your words as much as you were enjoying his own earlier. “Fuck! Yeosang-“ You gasp, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. “I want you to fuck a baby into me!”

As soon as those words fall from your lips, your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your body arches off of the rocks, a loud moan escaping you as you come clinging onto his hair for dear life. Your thighs shake, threatening to close around his head at any moment as he continues to suckle your clit between his lips while pumping his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high for as long as he can.

Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath, whole body twitching as he finally slows his movements over you. Your eyes flutter as he slips his fingers from you, sighing blissfully as you feel him kissing his way back up your body.

Breaching the surface once more, Yeosang immediately presses his lips to yours. Your legs automatically wrap themselves around his waist as he pushes you flush against the rocks, needing to feel every inch of your bare skin against his own.

“You’re so perfect when you come for me,” He breathes, cupping your cheek gingerly with his one hand.

You smile against his lips. “You make me this way.”

Yeosang hums, nuzzling his nose affectionately against your own. “Mine.”

A soft giggle fills the air as you peck his lips. “Yours.”

You can feel his free hand caressing over your side, his claws sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. A moment later, he reaches around to squeeze your ass, pressing himself firmly against your core. You can feel two very solid and almost identical weights settled against the skin of your thighs, the gold lining his scales shimmering beneath the water.

Looking down, you cannot help the hitch in your breath, nor the way your heart jumps excitedly inside of your chest.

“I hope you’re ready, Beloved,” he hums, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. The head of each of his cocks brushes up against your core, beginning to press the slightest bit into you and beginning to stretch you open. “Because I’m about to fuck a baby into you.”

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (16) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n the isms of a long-distance, working couple i'm back!!! this was supposed to be published in july my bad y'all i got busy :)

masterlist | last part | part 16 | next part (tba)

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang and 298,193 others

selinabui happy birthday to the best cousin i could've asked for. thanks for being some racing-obsessed weirdo, for playing video games with me across the world and most of all for once punching some guy in the face for me. love from: the more talented, overall better, most adorable cousin you could've asked for <3 (you'll always be the coolest older brother!) tagged: zhouguanyu24

zhouguanyu24 Being nice to me 🤨 ↳ selinabui @.zhouguanyu24 just respecting the elderly

linasgirl4 THEEEEE best cousin duo

emptybottlos they're very dear to me actually

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 8h IT'S RACE WEEEEEEEEEEK ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 8h 2024 CANADIAN GP FIRST OSCAR WIN MANIFESTING MANIFESTINGGGGGGGG

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 4h berlin empty bottles fans, did lina sound stuffy live? in the videos i've seen she looks sick ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 3h heard from oomf that cami said lina had a bit of a cold :(

INSTAGRAM

chrisyamada 🎵 | Chris Yamada · Pins and Needles (ft. Selina Bui from Empty Bottles)

liked by emptybottles_official and 738,859 others

chrisyamada Surprise drop? @.selinabui and I are pleased to present, to our humble fans, a little collab we recorded back in April. Without further ado, enjoy 'Pins and Needles' tagged: selinabui

selinabui fyi the electric guitar solo is ME bc as if he could ever shred that cool ↳ chrisyamada @.selinabui i totally could

linasgirl4 yall... what in tarnation why have you been sitting on this for 2 months 😭😭😭

lukaszhang ok but when's the mv dropping 🤨 ↳ moonbeamlina @lukaszhang there's... there's a music video 🥹

ceciliapham omfg it sounds so good oooohh it's a slow song ahhh her voice is angelic fr June 7

selinabui Paris, France

liked by oliviarodrigo and 332,164 others

selinabui "are you happy to be in paris?" OUI!

pastry81 close enough, welcome back oscalina!!! ↳ selinabui @.pastry81 oscar pastryyyy 🥺

tina_kim SO NOT OVER PINS AND NEEDLES I'M STARVED FOR NEW MUSIC

oscarpiastri hey there ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri oh hi 🥰

aidan_ebass Never ever going to watch a show with you again. Please learn to shut up 🫶 June 9

TWITTER

kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h it genuinely feels like there's an EB show every second night, do these people even sleep 😭😭😭

president linami @.linaminami · 43m is it just me or is the european leg really really busy? ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 42m the band barely has any time to breathe because they keep hoping to countries with like a day or two leeway ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 42m berlin to paris had a four day gap which is one of the longest gap between shows

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 1h tbh it's not super surprising that lina got sick; it's still cold in the northern parts and she wears mini dresses and short skirts for two hours in the evening; plus she's probably exhausted and burning out

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 12m three back to back paris shows... i'm a little worried for lina's health

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

pookie piastri @.op81ln4 · 9h got blessed with cat energy oscar video from mclaren thank you lord 🙏

lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h can i physically afford to watch this race; send advice (i'm sick lmao) ↳ Aidan Park @EB_Aidan · 4h Selina, you have a 40 degree fever get off your phone ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h wdym... i'm not on my phone 🥸 ↳ Oscar Piastri @.OscarPiastri · 1h Hey... what did you mean by 40 degree fever 🤨

piaa⁸¹ @.papayaeightyone · 12m uh wtf happened to charles??? ↳ lanaaaaa @.sharlleglrg · 8m that's the monaco curse oversleeping

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

INSTAGRAM

selinabui_news

liked by ceciliapham and 12,002 others

selinabui_news 📱Screencaps of Lina from the Empty Bottles instagram live. Get well soon baby 🥺 tagged: selinabui

piastri_lina how does she still look better than me on the brink of death????

amelia_belrose i hope she feels better soon :( but did you see her face when kas panned the camera over 😭 i thought i was about to witness a murder

marie_h.sb she's been going on stage every night like that 😧 June 11

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 56m Lina was talking to a fan during the encore, asked for his name and got flustered when he said "Oscar" #TMDWorldTour ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 32m help i think she broke why did it take her 15 seconds to say something 😭😭😭 ↳ president linami @ linaminami · 49m actually wheezing at kas' face, he seriously can't believe she's that down bad oml

oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 40m i'm eating gooooooood tonight

pookie piastri @.op81ln4 · 23m somewhere on earth oscar piastri is kicking his legs and giggling at that clip of his gf's brain shutting down at the mention of his name

camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 11m this is unironically the antithesis of that sabrina moment with a fan named joshua like 😭 similar reaction of disbelief and surprise but the context could not be more different

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h this is actually really mortifying and i'd appreciate if we all collectively wiped it from memory ↳ Oscar Piastri @.OscarPiastri · 3h It's actually my new ringtone for you ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 3h count ur lucky stars we're not in the same country right now

cami yang @EB_Cami · 38m what if i said i'm also feeling a little messy 🤔

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha @sp1rl @destinyg237 @iloveyou3000morgan

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ DUTY-BOUND ꒱ AKAGAMI NO SHANKS X READER

warnings ⟢ minors do not interact—i will block you! very suggestive. alcohol use. period talk. foot worship. scent kink. female reader. reader and shanks are married, and shanks uses a few pet names—some silly, some serious—including: “lady love” / “ma’am” / “my love” / “my wife.” please note that shanks only has his right arm.

word count ⟢ 1115

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was shanks + period sex. this is my first time writing shanks, and truthfully, it reignited my lust for him... i hope i did him justice. please enjoy!

“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?”

It’s late; you lost track of time when the sky was still an azure ocean, the sun floating peerless in its splendor. An expensive—now empty—bottle of spiced rum lies at your feet, its warmth eddying through your veins, limbs steeped in honey. Swathed in night’s royal velvet, your hotel room is illuminated only by shivering candlelight and stray moonbeams. You left the balcony door ajar. Outside, the balmy breeze stirs palm leaves, and the sea’s siren song plays, ebbing and flowing with the tide.

For the first time in months, you’re on a real bed. Swapping your trusty hammock for a down-filled mattress feels like a luxury—one you refuse to take for granted. While your earlier beachside dinner left you satiated and wooed, your date led you to a nearby bar for drinks and dancing. Laughter rang in your ears as you draped your wrists over his broad shoulders, a thick arm anchored low across your hips, chin kissing the top of your head. The merriment concluded with what he insisted would be a “borrowed” bottle of rum.

(“Cap’s favorite,” he whispers conspiratorially against your temple, cradling the stolen cargo inside the billowing fabric of his cape.)

But as you lounge in bed together, your mind wanders. Shanks rests on his side, head propped up with his right arm. You’re curled against his bare chest, the vitality of his battle-worn flesh and the ardent beat of his heart setting your nerves alight. His hooked nose is buried in your hair, lips pressed to your crown.

“Nothing much,” you belatedly reply.

“Hmm…” He pulls back to study your expression, playful gaze narrowing, mapping the contours of your profile as though he’s navigating an uncharted island. After a few beats of silence, he finally announces: “I think you’re hiding something from me.”

“Oh, is that so?”

He hums. “You always have something to complain about.”

(That earns him a swift smack to the shoulder.)

“Ouch!” he gasps, face contorting in mock anguish. “My lady love wounds me.”

“If you must know,” you huff, ignoring his antics to instead twirl a delicate finger through his chest hair, “it’s my time of the month. So I’m not exactly feeling my best and brightest.”

“I see…Is that it?”

You indulge the petulant urge to roll your eyes. “If only I could ball up my pain and force it upon you, Mr. Can’t-Leave-His-Hammock-All-Day-When-He-Has-A-Mild-Cough.”

“No—you misunderstand me,” he sighs.

Slipping his arm beneath your waist, he shifts to hover above you, the ring hanging from the golden chain around his neck gleaming with reflected moonlight. His frame is almost comically large; almost. The way he so effortlessly maneuvers you, his body eclipsing yours, trapping you in place—forcing you to stare up at him: your captain, your lover, your husband—has heat blooming in your belly.

“What I mean is that there are ways to deal with this sort of pain.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, craning your neck to brush your lips against the ring; his jaw flexes. “Enlighten me, then,” you challenge.

You’ve fallen right into his trap and you know it. His grin is devastatingly radiant. Vast and blinding as the horizon on a cloudless day, it holds a sly promise. He leans down, lips grazing yours, breath so sweet your teeth ache. “Yes ma’am.”

Shanks considers himself lucky that you’re mostly undressed: your frame drowns in one of his old, sun-bleached shirts, the excess fabric pooling at your thighs. Underneath it, a simple pair of cotton panties is all that separates him from what he desires most.

Sliding down the length of your form, his excitement is apparent as it strains against his breeches. He nudges the hem of your makeshift nightgown with his nose, teasing it upward, careful to scrape the stubble on his cheeks and chin across your tender flesh. Continuing until the garment reaches the apex of your thighs, he then bites down on the soft linen, dragging it up to your hips with his teeth.

When you raise an eyebrow—Leaving your work half-finished, Akagami? he can hear you goad—he rasps, “I quite enjoy this view. As long as my love doesn’t mind, that is.”

(If the quickening of your pulse is anything to go by, you don’t mind in the slightest.)

Sitting back on his heels, he skims his fingers along the sinuous outline of your leg, supple hip to the arch of your foot. He splays his palm across your ankle, rough thumb stroking the bone. Gingerly, he raises your foot to his mouth, blotting a kiss against the sole before lifting his lips to your toes, slick pink peeking out, messily dragging his tongue across each digit. His eyes never leave yours, stormy with lust—fresh ichor seeping onto the salt-damp deck of a pirate ship: sublime.

Even in the throes of worship, crimson strands marring his vision, he looks every bit the Emperor he is.

Soon, he works his way back between your legs, wasting little time as he shoves his face into the seam of your underwear, inhaling deeply with a groan. You want to harass him for acting like an ill-trained mutt, but the knowledge that he’s getting off on your scent—that after a day of exploring and sweating and bleeding he still yearns for you—makes your head fuzzy.

You clear your throat. “Shanks. You don’t have to…you know.”

He doesn’t move even a hair’s breadth, eyelids heavy, the low rumble of his voice resounding in your core as he drawls, “I’m a big boy; a bit of blood isn’t gonna hurt me.”

His hand creeps downward, slowly—purposefully—until it rests atop your final layer. His fore and middle fingers sneak past the waistband and tangle in your pubic hair. Meanwhile, he stretches his thumb out to stroke your aching clit, featherlight, still not touching you directly.

“Besides,” he adds, no mirth in his manner for the first time all evening, “it’s my duty to help my wife.”

[queers-gambit]

Careful What You Wish For

prompt: he's highly reactive, you're incredibly enduring. he's a righteous dick, you're criminally empathetic. he's temperamental, you're amenable. but you're done being his doormat. -> or in which Billy resorts to breaking up when you two fight, but when he comes to make up (like clockwork), you finally have a change of heart.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5k+

warnings: it's not much so don't expect a lot! author has Daddy Issues™️ and you're gonna deal with it, cursing, drama for drama's sake, Billy Boy's trauma translates into a toxic relationship, feelings are hard, abrupt ending, angst, hurt not a lot of comfort; healthy parent relationship? wild.

and NO this is NOT influenced by Hoover's book / Blake's movie! i have NOT read the book nor seen the movie, so if you recognize similarities, it's 100% unintentional!

To be reactive means to impulsively act upon circumstances instead of rationally considering situations that would asses a humane, clean, agreeable, "legal" response. To be reactive is exactly what it sounds like. It's reacting. It's not thinking, it's not being considerate or logical. It's being fueled by emotion, to be impulsive and rash. To be reactive was borderline selfish as the response is one-sided and results from only a single person's perspective.

Part of growing up is learning to handle your reactions; to absorb situations and consider the best possible option forward. Thing is, it's not a skill people could master in a day, week, month, year - it took a lot of time, focus, and constant, conscious dedication. People in high school were attempting to master this skill; people in college, their 20's - hell, there's even people in their 30's and 40's still trying to learn and perfect the ability to fucking handle their reactiveness.

So, in actuality, you couldn't fault Billy for being "this" way. It's not like he was doing it consciously, maliciously, or on purpose; he genuinely didn't know better and it's hard to unlearn lessons life taught you. Considering the environment he grew up in, you knew Billy stood absolutely no chance to learn and develop healthy coping mechanisms and forms of communication - but Christ, it was difficult to date him.

All romantic bullshit aside, Billy's attitude was increasingly concerning the further your relationship progressed. He required a lot of love and patience - of which, you had an abundance of and was happy to give. Yet that's the key word, abundance - NOT unlimited. He's sensitive, meaning easily irritated; damn near any and everything inconvenienced him. His mouth moved before his neurons could fire. He refused to compromise or admit defeat like Flat Earthers refuse scientific evidence. He would always choose throwing a fist over using his words. He embodied the cutting image of "bad boy", but he also lived it if his lack of manners and foul mouth was any indication. He was aloof, malcontent, egotistical, had the emotional intelligence of a fucking jellyfish, operated as an iron lock with a thrown-away key.

And Billy loves you. You knew, in his way, he loves you. But you also knew how hard it was for Billy to have any degree of emotion for any given reason. This meant more often than not, you worried his feelings for you were forced, or at the very least, ebbed and waned. Odd, isn't it? How his trauma causes a trauma response in you?

Billy was far from perfect, but you didn't need him perfect. You needed him to be loving, supportive, kind and caring, honest, empathetic... All things nobody would EVER think of when trying to describe Billy.

Yet you two worked. Polar opposites; two ends of the spectrum; a flowery romance novel and a doomed tragedy.

You used to think he was the ebony ink and you, the pure snow in the Yin and Yang symbol - or a taijitu. He was dark and brooding and abused and hateful - but with you, as that single dot of white, he felt balanced. You're bright, blinding, glittering, passionate - and with Billy, he added that speck of darkness (or realism) to your purity.

Sure, this could mean literally since you lost your virginity to him within a couple months of dating, but more so in the sense that Billy's pessimism was darkening your optimism; almost as if he was pouring water from your glass into his to force you to see your glass (read: reality) as half empty. It was as if he was corrupting you. Yet perhaps not in the sense we all might think - like he takes you to party all weekend, blow off school, engage in sketchy or concerning or dangerous activities, experiment with drugs and sexual positions that border on acrobatic. His corruption was more along the lines of draining you; where you were once bright and happy, so excited to love and be loved, to live life; you're now just tired and passive and accepting.

Billy wasn't easy to love. When you first started dating, it felt like a challenge - winning him over. You were determined to prove yourself ideal, capable, and willing to endure him and all his (and his family's) antics. Yet as time passed, you fell so deeply in love with him that you didn't even remember why you first kept coming back for more. He was intoxicating; he invades any space and commandeers not just attention, but leadership and control.

Billy was the flame. You, the moth. Yet eventually, fires will die. They will not burn forever. Whether from a lack of oxygen, wood, or something like the wind snuffs it, no flame ever endures forever. And now, the flame was dying and you were finding lesser reason to linger around dwindling warmth.

You see, there's only SO much a person can take. Being so reactive, fighting with Billy is fucking clockwork. It's eerily like a science the way you two will always fight when one of you has the realization, "Wow, things are SO peaceful and SO nice right now!" Naturally, because God (or karma, the universe, whoever) had a sense of humor, would choose that moment to cause issue.

Fights with Billy were usually sparked by something decently simple - like you being paired with Jason Carver for a tutoring session, or taking an extra 10 minutes in the shower after your sports practice, or telling him, "Sorry, I can't go out Friday, baby, I told the Wheeler's I'd babysit." This would cause Billy to spiral. Akin to a ripe, seasonal Kansas tornado.

Fights with Billy usually got personal, and since you knew and trusted one another so well, there was plenty of ammunition. Insults were hurled for an unGodly amount of time, but it was because Billy loved pulling loose threads to watch everything unravel.

Fights with Billy usually ended in a single, consistent manner: with him breaking up with you. Oh, it was infuriating! Billy had both fight and flight instincts - you know, from being so reactive - that he was all for throwing a punch, but when it came to real accountability or resolution, he'd flee; never caring about who he might hurt in the process. He'd engage his "fight" response, and then turn around and "flee", only to return later and resume fighting! Talk about fucking whiplash! Billy was like a wrecking ball, and if you were gonna fight, he was gonna make sure he was ready for it.

This fight was no different.

You can't even remember why it started, but it did and now, you sat on the front porch stairs of your family home, head bowed into your arms while silently weeping. Was it sadness? Was it despair? Acceptance? Frustration? Defeat? Was it anger that made you cry? Were these tears of humor? Disbelief? Exhaustion?

Perhaps all of the above at once.

"Look, I just think we need to take a break. From each other."

You held your breath, rolling your lips between your teeth and slowly looking up at the boy you loved and hated most in this world. Billy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, one arm propped on the freshly painted wooden bannister to hold his balance; watching you with mild remorse, mostly neutrality. You smirked mirthlessly, nodding, "Right, okay."

Billy scoffed, ash falling from the end of his lit cigarette, asking, "Really not gon' say nothin'? Don't wanna fight or argue 'bout this?"

"Why bother, Billy?" You snipped, wiping your tears. "You do this every time. Fuck's sake, it's like something gets a little hard or inconvenient and we break-up."

He scoffed, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, maybe this is the last time, sweetheart."

You just sighed, "Okay, Bee. I'm gonna go in, you kinda interrupted movie night to do this. So, now that you have, cool if I go in? Great, get home safe." You stood without waiting for his answer, turning for the front door and immediately seeking refuge inside. You locked the doorknob, then the deadbolt, and just for dramatic flare, latched the chain, too.

Using the sleeves of your shirt, you dried your face.

"Who was that, honey?" Your mother asked as you entered the dark living room, sighing as you dropped into your spot on the sofa; taking your little sister in arms as she settled on your chest once more.

"Just Billy."

"Oh, he didn't want to come in?"

"No, Mama, he had to go."

"Shame," she sighed, "I thought he would like this movie."

You only hummed, draping a thin blanket over you and your sister. "Pops. Hey, hey," you whispered, hand out, wiggling your foot into your father's thigh, "dad, hey. Daddy." Without looking, he handed over the bowl of popcorn mixed with Peanut M&M's and jumped when the sound boomed and the screen flashed with blinding action.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't focus on the heavy Austrian accent of the time traveling Terminator. Your head repeated the argument with Billy; how it had now spanned over several days and he had the audacity to knock at your door tonight, interrupting the week-standing movie night he KNEW your family participated in, and proceeded to break-up with you - AGAIN!

Yet something felt so fucking different this time.

You weren't sad by this "break-up" (yet) because you knew he was just being reactive and sensitive, but something didn't sit right about tonight. Your parents both worked incredibly long hours at tedious, stressful jobs, but they were very firm that every Thursday night was movie night - and Billy knew this. He knew where you were every Thursday. He knew better than to interrupt, he knew this time together was sacred since your parents worked so frequently but also actually seemed to like family time.

So, he chose tonight as the best time to initiate this break? Your heart hammered as you began to convince yourself this was a malicious move; he knowingly came to your house to inflict emotional turmoil when you were with family. It was deliberate, it was a manipulative power move; knowing he had such a hold on you that even during your beloved family time of bonding, despite being in a fight, you would still receive him; still come back to him.

Angry tears coated your eyes as Sarah Connor fought for her life. Where Billy was always highly reactive, being the eldest daughter, you were resilient and enduring; able to handle anything thrown your way. You were rational, decently calm; able to think through a storm, being only motivated by the sight of the sun. Billy had a bad attitude, he was arrogant, his ego inflated by the small town girls all drooling over him, but it was his abuse and lack of coping ability that made him into a righteous dick. Perhaps that was why he was attracted to you, being so empathetic and understanding that it bordered on criminal - especially with the way it slowly drained you of life. Billy was temperamental, angry and hurt by the world; and you were amenable, agreeable - not a pushover, but similar to water in the sense that you could adapt and conform to any space, shape, or circumstance you're put in (willingly or not).

Something in your gut finally clicked.

You're done being his doormat. Loving Billy was dismantling you brick by brick; he thought because you were so accepting and understanding that he could act anyway he wanted, get away with it, and you'd always forgive him. You'd always take him back. He could rip your heart out of your chest, crush it into dust, and you'd still thank him when he sprinkles it in your hands - because at least he did that. At least he gave you a sprinkle. You were supposed to be grateful - never-minding that he was the one who continuously hurt you in the first place.

Your eyes drifted from the television to your mother and father sat together at the far end of the couch. 20 years married, and they still sat together like high school teens; his arm around her shoulders, kept close, sharing snacks, a throw blanket cocooning their legs. They were so gentle with one another; relying majorly on nonverbal communication, like when there's a jump scare, your father's thumb would sweep over the back of your mother's hand resting on his lap. It was a grounding technique you have long taken note of, but seeing it now just made you sad.

The desire to have a relationship like your parents was strong, but what was even stronger was simply setting a good example for your sister. You'd be devastated if you ever learned she dated a man like Billy; who put her through the emotional wringer for no direct or good reason. You thought you'd tell her it wasn't her job to fix anyone; it wasn't her responsibility or burden to help mold a boy into a man. Your heart would shatter if you learned she was like you - crying to sleep, throwing towels over all mirrors to avoid any reflection, walking on eggshells in an effort to keep the peace you weren't even charged with!

Watching her eyes glittering in the glow of the action movie, you knew what you had to do. If you didn't practice what you preached, you had no true leg to stand on; your words become contradictory, your concerns warped by perspective. You didn't want her to look at your parents, then at you and Billy, and think someone was wrong - or that love was somewhere in between your relationship examples. You wanted her to know love wasn't supposed to hurt, and if you needed her to understand that she deserved the best of the best, you needed to walk the walk that you talked.

Blinking back tears, you resigned yourself to forcing the feeling of contentment; hugging your sister closer, relishing the feeling of your father's warmth against the bottom of your feet where they laid. And as if he could read your mind, your father mutely kept his one arm around your mother, the other laying on your ankle; glancing over to catch your eye and offer a small, soft smile before focusing on the movie again.

You pecked your sister's forehead quickly, whispering, "You okay, Bug?"

"Uh-huh."

"Not too scared?"

"No," she answered, completely entranced by the television.

"Sure?"

"Uh-huh. Can you pause it?" She asked your father, who almost instantly reached for the remote to hit pause. Your sister jumped up and rushed from the living room before quickly doubling back to hang in the doorway, "I'll be back." Then she dipped behind the wall, only to pop back out a second later and punctuate, "With weapons!"

The living room was full of boisterous laughter as she scampered off to the bathroom.

There was a gentle knock at your closed bedroom door, head lifting from the lowered crane it unconsciously drooped into while reading the novel on your lap. With a grimace, you rubbed your neck and called, "Come in!"

"Hey, honey," your father spoke softly, poking his head in, "got a second?"

"Yeah, sure, Daddy, c'min."

He offered a small smile and entered at full, shutting the door behind him and confirming what you sensed - this was sure to be a serious conversation. He sat gingerly at the foot of your bed, heaving a great sigh, asking, "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oh, uh, just," you showed him the cover of your book, "it's for school, I have to write a report on it."

"Is it interesting?"

"It has a good message," you allotted, making him snicker. "I'm trying to be nice!"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, sighing again. "Listen, honey, I just wanted to talk to you about... You know, Billy."

"We use condoms, Daddy, and I'm on birth control."

"While that's great and exactly what every father wants to hear," he whined, "that's not what I meant."

"Oh," you sat up, book marked and set aside, "you mean tonight?"

"Yeah."

You shrugged, "It's not that big of a deal."

"You sure?"

"I got a handle on things, Daddy."

"I don't know if I can believe that, honey," he frowned, dimples on display, "because - you've - you're just..." He paused, shaking his head, "Your mother and I are worried about you. You're different since dating Billy and it's hard to ignore. I know it might not be comfortable to talk about, but you know you can always come to us, right?"

You nodded, "I know, Daddy."

"Good. 'Cause, he's 18, right?"

"I'm almost afraid to answer that, but yes...?"

Your father nodded, "Good, so I can legally kick his ass."

"Being friends with Hopper helps."

"Damn straight," he confirmed. "You sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah, we just broke up."

"What!?"

"Daddy, chill," you chuckled, "we do this every few weeks."

"Oh, Jesus - "

"But it's the last time!"

"Well, how can you be sure?"

"'Cause I deserve better."

The sigh your father released was out of relief, musing, "Goddamn right you do! Good girl!" He leaned in to peck your forehead quickly, patting your leg. "Well, I'll let you get back to reading..."

"Hang on," you halted him, feeling your heart lurch, "can I ask you something?"

"Anything, kid."

"Do you... not... like Billy?"

"Well, now that I know you two break up every few weeks, less so."

"Daddy."

He nodded, "I thought he was an all right kid, and you never had an ill word to say about him. But he was always kinda troubled, something about him always made me a little suspicious. Is there reason I shouldn't like him...?"

You stared at your father for several long seconds, both with varying expressions as you tried to telepathically communicate. When you understood his meaning, you blanched, "Wait - woah - hey - what!? No! No, Daddy!" You groaned, "Jesus, no! Billy's - Billy's troubled, yes, but he's not abusive or aggressive - not with me! I swear!"

"I'm sorry, I just - I needed to be sure! There's no easy way to ask these things, you know?"

"I know," you nodded, "and I appreciate you checking, but I promise, I'm okay, Billy's not like that. He's abrasive, yes, but he's still respectful."

"Noted," your father breathed, "that's actually relieving. So, uh... Am I supposed to bring you ice cream? Or rent some romcoms? This is your first break-up and I'm not sure what to do."

Your eyes rolled lightly, "Not yet, but keep that energy for when the emotions really set in."

"I'll stock up after work tomorrow," he promised.

"You're... Home this weekend?"

"Your mother and I thought for the next couple months, we'll take a break from conferences," he grinned, "spend some time with our favorite girls. Maybe even take a family vacation this summer!"

You grinned, "You mean it?"

"Of course!"

You launched into his embrace with a laugh, both full of mirth and amusement. Instead of leaving, your father actually situated comfortably on your bed and listened to your read your book - reminding him of the days he read you bedtime stories. He eyed the essay prompt your teacher had passed out with his listening ears on, and when there was a quote or relevant detail he thought related to your thesis, he made sure to speak up.

It was the most at-peace you've felt in ages.

"Bug! You have exactly 90 seconds to get down here!" You hollered into the house, walking out the front door while storing your novel in your book bag. Turning forward, you gasped when you nearly ran into Billy - standing before you, fresh as a fucking daisy. "Jesus Christ, Billy, you scared me," you scolded, keys jangling.

"Sorry," he muttered, sighing, hands going to his back pockets, "didn't think you'd be comin' out so quick."

"We gotta catch the bus," you told him, turning to holler again into the open door, "BUG! LET'S GO!"

"Why? You know I normally drive you two."

"Yeah, but we broke-up last night, Bee, didn't think you'd wanna play taxi driver still."

"It's not bein' a taxi - "

"You live on the other side of town," you scoffed, "my house is literally out of your way. So, don't feed me that line." You could see Max leaning on the passenger door from where Billy's Camaro was parked on the street, waving to her; watching her grin and wave back. "What're you doin' here?" You asked him pointedly.

"Look, I know we argued and I got a little mouthy, but I was just pissed off and reacted poorly. But I slept on it, and I'm sorry for what I said. Can we please just try to move on?"

You scoffed, "Billy, you do this so often, I can't keep up anymore. Your insecurity isn't your fault, you're not to be crucified for it, but I can't be your punching bag. You can't lose your cool and yell and get 'mouthy', break up with me, run away for me to deal with shit, and then come back the next day. So, I appreciate the offer, but Bug and I are gonna catch the bus 'cause... Because..."

"Because why, baby?" He asked, voice hazy and thick.

"Because you should really be careful what you wish for, Billy, you might just get it. I think we should honor this break-up."

"What?" Billy breathed in earnest confusion. "No, hold up - "

"Billy, I'm sorry, I am. You know I love you - "

"So you're breaking up with me, 'cause you love me?"

"You're the one who broke up with me, Billy," you reminded, "and yes, I do love you, but I have to love me, too. I can't do them simultaneously, it seems."

"Of course you can - "

"Loving you means disrespecting myself," you told him. "Every time I come back to you, I'm chipping away at who I am. You and I - we used to be so good for each other, Bee. Remember? But now? You're just on this warpath and I refuse to be a casualty. So, yes, I love you, I love you so much, but I don't think we should be together anymore. I need time alone, to breathe and figure out who I am outside of you - and you obviously need time to process and get your shit together. If we stay together, we're only gonna hurt each other. But apart, we can freely move and improve and curate change without risk of harm to the other."

You both just stared at one another, the sound of thundering footsteps heard from behind you. "Bee!" Your sister squealed when she rushed out the door.

"Hey, Bug!" He beamed, bending to scoop her in his arms - just like she wanted. "Woah, woah, woah - when did you get such cool shoes, kid?" He asked her, holding her ankle to show off her tie-dye canvas shoes.

"Daddy got them! Aren't they cool!?"

"So cool."

"Do you want a pair? We can match!"

Billy smirked, setting her on her feet, "Tell you what, Bug, if you can find a pair my size, I'll match with'cha, yeah?"

"I'll tell Daddy!" She gasped, turning to look up at you. "Can we ride with Billy to school?"

"Not to - "

"'Course, kid, c'mon," Billy cut you off, and it was like you never even opened your mouth with the way your sister bounded down the porch, over the yard, and towards Max.

"Billy," you grumbled.

"You really wanna break the kid's heart this early in the day?" He asked, sighing and offering his hand. "C'mon, just until the end of today - she'll have the weekend to process."

"You know we're not a married couple getting a divorce and Bug is our kid?" You grumbled, slapping your hand into his and allowing him to lead you towards his car; where his sister was settling yours in the backseat.

"Might as well be."

"You're dramatic."

He only hummed, opening your passenger door and waiting until you were inside safely before shutting the door. You greeted Max happily in the backseat, Billy getting in the driver's and pulling off safely - slowly - to start towards the elementary school. While the middle and high school conveniently shared a lot, the elementary school was just a couple streets over. Bug was excited to tell the car all about her upcoming "field day", where the entire school participated in these outside courses, doing various physical activities - it was all good, honest fun.

"What team were you on?" Bug asked Max. "I'm on the Blue Team!" She proudly pulled out the bottom of her shirt; showing off the color. "We won last year, too!"

"Woah! That's so cool, you gonna win again this year?" Max asked.

"Uh-huh! Did your team win?"

"We didn't have field day."

"What?" Bug asked, sounding heartbroken.

"They didn't go to school here, Bug," you told her from the passenger seat, "they lived in California. Remember?"

Bug frowned, "You didn't get to play?"

"We had other activities," Max assured, "we just didn't have a whole day of it - your school sounds so cool!"

"You should come!" Bug gasped. "Today! You and Bee should come! Then you could have field day, too!"

Your heart melted listening to Max tell her why she and Billy couldn't - but that she needed Bug to pay extra close, extra special attention to the games so they could all play together later in their very own field day. You didn't have the heart to halt the plans, to tell Bug why that wouldn't be happening.

You felt Billy's eyes on you periodically through the drive, sisters in the back discussing what California was like. Bug was fascinated by the beaches - having never been - and asked all kinds of questions, nearly exploding in excitement when she learned Billy knew how to surf. You knew it was a source of anxiety for him; you knew Billy associated surfing with his mother and that ever since she left, he couldn't ride the waves. He wouldn't. It hurt too bad to look back on shore and miss that bright smile, yellow blonde hair he inherited, loose, free-flowing dress, and floppy straw hat.

Yet talking to Bug, he seemed relatively at ease.

From the back, Max watched as you, who hadn't so much as looked at Billy since he got in the car, reached over for his hand to hold in silent support. He held on tightly.

"All right, Bug," you called when Billy pulled up to the elementary school, getting out to pull the seat forward and assist her out.

"Bye, Max!" She hugged the redhead, then lunged between the seats, "Bye, Billy!"

She clamored out of the car, Billy fixing the seat for you as you knelt on the sidewalk and helped fix her backpack. "You good?" You checked, smirking at her.

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Listen, we'll take the bus home today, okay? Billy's got practice, so, remember - it's bus 104. Got it?"

"Bus 104."

"That's right, good girl. You get on bus 104, it'll take you to the high school and pick me up. All right?"

She took a deep breath, nodding, "I can do this."

"I know you can, Bug. All right, big hug!" You hummed as she wrapped her wee arms around your neck. "Oooooh! All right! That's good stuff!" She pulled back. "Have the best day, Bug. Love you."

"Love you," she messily pecked your cheek before rushing to join the procession of streaming kiddies. You stood straight and dusted off, sliding back into Billy's car, and once clear of the children, let his lead foot drop on the gas and speed into the school lot.

"Jesus," Max grumbled when the car swung into a parking space, "inna rush or something?"

"Just," Billy sighed deeply, shaking his head, "get out. You," he pointed at you, "stay put, we gotta talk." You remained, wishing Max a good day, watching her climb out of the car with her skateboard. As the redhead rode off for the middle school, Billy dropped back into his seat, slammed his door, and lit a cigarette with slightly trembling hands.

Silence echoed between you both, Billy handing over the cigarette mutely; students, peers, and faculty all milled around the Camaro to head into school. Smoke wafted from the rolled down windows. When time, the butt was tossed out and the silence remained.

"Bee," you whispered finally.

"I'm just..." He trailed, sighing, "Trying to savor this. Don't know when I'm gonna have you this close again."

He took your hand gently and stroked it with his thumb, emotion heavy in both your chests. "It's not like we're not gonna see each other again," you whispered.

"Not in the way I want."

"It's not like I want this, either."

"Then why're you doing this?"

You scoffed gently, "It's not me doing a damn thing, Billy, you've already done it all. I'm just holding you to your word because I know how fearful you are of commitment." You tossed his hand to his lap and grabbed your bag, reaching for the door handle, then pausing. "For the record," you ended softly, "I'm sorry, and I love you. I hope you find what you're looking for, Bee."

As you finally climbed from the sports car and into school, you felt like you were breathing air for the first time. Like you were feeling sunshine after a decade underground, like there were springs in your sneakers; vigor in your blood, optimism misting your mind into new possibilities. Yet, behind you, in a navy blue Camaro, Billy loosed two tears before tearing out of the parking lot in a fit of anger. Rage. Sadness. Desperation.

He wasn't seen at school the following week, but by the next weekend, rumors spread that he hooked up with both Allison Scott and Kimberly Jones at Donald Reefer's weekend party - so, you know, he seemed to be handling this break up well. It was what he wanted, after all.

And you? Let's just say, you were finally happy, healthy, feeling confident, rejuvenated, and ready to move forward and ONLY accept that which you KNOW you deserve.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[alessiasfreckles]

riptide (alessia russo x reader)

Alessia tries to make you feel better during a thunderstorm.

a/n: short and sweet, not my best but i'm trying to get back into writing again! hope you like it x

-----

“I’m not scared,” you scoffed, shaking your head with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“Are you sure?” Alessia asked.

“Yep,” you nodded emphatically, ignoring the uneasy feeling in your stomach. “Why would I be scared?”

The blonde smiled gently at you, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “It’s okay to be scared of thunderstorms, you know?”

“I- I know, but I’m not scared of them!” you insisted. 

She watched your eyes flit towards the window, the sky filled with ever-darkening clouds, looming over your apartment. Alessia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen you so on edge before - even before a game, you weren’t this wound up. 

“Okay,” she nodded, trying to think of something to distract you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

By the time the storm started, you were cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. Alessia’s soft fingers drew patterns on your skin, and she smiled inwardly at the way the tension had melted from your body. That was, until the first flash of lightning lit up the room.

Your body stiffened as you silently counted the seconds, waiting for the thunder, trying to gauge how far away the storm was. You’d barely counted to six when it boomed above you, so loud it seemed to shake the building.

You jumped, not even noticing the way your hand was clenched around Alessia’s, who was watching you with wide eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she tried to calm you, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb. 

“Six seconds means it’s just over a mile away. Or two kilometres,” you said, eyes fixed on the window. 

“Really?” 

“Three seconds for a kilometre, five for a mile,” you said, teeth clenched. Your dad had told you that when you were a kid, and it became part of your routine. When there was a thunderstorm, you’d count the seconds, desperately hoping each time that the number would grow, that the storm would pass. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid-” you started to say, the tension that was slowly ebbing away being replaced by shame and embarrassment flooding your body. You managed to tear your eyes away from the window to look at Alessia, bracing yourself for the look of judgement you were sure would be on her face. She was watching you intently, but there was no judgement there, only concern and love, a slight frown on her face.

“It’s not stupid,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Storms are scary. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I know, but I’m an adult, I shouldn’t be sc-” you were cut off by a thunderous crash, so loud it made Alessia jump as well, and the two of you looked above you in unison. 

“Jesus,” the blonde murmured. It had sounded like it was right there, so close that it was as if it were in your apartment, a raging beast destroying everything in its path. When she looked back at you, her heart broke. The terror was plain on your face. How had she not known you were so scared of thunderstorms? 

A flash of lightning illuminated the room with bright white light, and you let out a squeak of fear, your knees pulled up to your chest, Alessia’s hand still clutched tightly in yours. The light was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but now it was completely dark in your living room, darker than before. 

“Shit, it must be a power cut,” Alessia bit her lip, watching you. “I have an idea, okay? Just stay right here.”

As she began to pull her hand free from yours, you turned to face her, eyes wide. “Please don’t go,” you managed to say, trembling. 

“Oh, baby, no, I’m not going anywhere!” she quickly explained. “I’m just going to get some things from the bedroom, okay?” 

You nodded, trying to swallow the fear bubbling up inside you, and turned back to watch the window. At least if you saw the lightning, you’d know thunder was coming. You’d be able to count, and tell how far away it was. Now that the room was so dark, it was even easier to see outside. Rain pounded against the window, relentlessly hammering away, and branches from the tree outside shook against the force of the wind. Lightning flashed in the distance, a cragged gash in the sky, like someone had taken a knife to it. The thunder was low this time, quieter than before.

You were so transfixed on the storm that you hadn’t even noticed Alessia come back into the room, carrying various blankets and pillows. She set to work, arranging some of your chairs into a rough square, the pillows in the middle, the blankets pulled across the tops of the chairs. 

“Okay, baby,” she said gently, putting a hand on your knee. For a brief moment she felt silly, worried about what you’d think, but she pushed it aside, as she took your hand. “Um, I made a-”

“A blanket den?” you exclaimed when you saw what she’d built, the storm momentarily forgotten. 

“Yeah, I- Well, it’s kind of silly, but-” she ducked her head, not meeting your eyes. “I thought maybe it’d help? We can sit in it together, I don’t know, it’s-”

“It’s amazing,” you told her, squeezing her hand and pulling her closer. You leant in to kiss her when another flash of lightning made you jump, and you laughed nervously. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled, and pulled you towards the blanket fort. “Come on.”

You let her lead you as you counted the seconds. Five… six… seven… eight. Okay. Eight was okay. It was starting to move past you. You tried to shake off the thoughts of the storm as you crawled into the den, and despite how tense you were, you couldn’t help but smile.

Alessia had set up a set of fake candles you had, and they cast dancing shadows against the blankets draped around you. Your childhood teddy bear was lying amongst the cushions and pillows on the floor, and you rolled your eyes affectionately when you saw him.

“Really?” you asked, picking him up with a smile.

She shrugged, a grin on her lips. “Hey, I thought he could provide you with some emotional support.”

You let out a laugh and pulled her closer. The den was just big enough for the two of you to sit, your heads brushing the blankets, but it was long enough that you could lay down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, and you shrugged.

“There’s not really much to it,” you admitted. “That’s why it feels so silly. I don’t know what it is, they just terrify me.”

You flinched as another boom of thunder echoed outside, but it really was starting to sound further away. Alessia leant back, laying down, and pulled you down with her. You followed, nestling against her, your head on her chest, listening to her heart beat steadily. 

“I’m scared of the dentist,” she admitted, after a few minutes of silence. 

You lifted your head to look at her quizzically. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. After another beat of silence, she piped up again. “And the dark.”

“Huh,” you frowned. Not that you wanted to tell her about her own fears, but she’d never mentioned a fear of the dark.

“And I’m scared of pretty girls, and starting conversations…” she trailed off, and you sat up, trying to scoff, unable to stop a laugh from coming out. She giggled at your reaction, and you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to pout.

“I can’t believe you’re making fun of me,” you said, starting off stern but dissolving into giggles yourself. “Here I am, scared, and you’re just-”

“Come here,” she cut you off with a grin, reaching one hand out to pull you in and kiss you. You smiled into the kiss, not even noticing the quiet rumble of thunder in the distance, the storm slowly coming to an end.

[stargirlrchive]

TOLERATE IT

older!ghost x reader — i realized after i finished, i did not mention simon’s name once, but this was written w him in mind lmaooo

cw: angst, no comfort, break up? ish, friends w benefits and complicated feelings, simon self-sabotaging, im in such an angsty mood! edit: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and i don’t know if i like it

your nails dug into your palms as your eyes filled with tears. you were drowning, he was drowning you. you had known it for a long time now. this, whatever it was, wasn’t working. not anymore.

not when you had bled yourself dry, spread yourself too thin for him, just to receive nothing in return. worst of all is he had told you so from the very beginning. but some naive, stupid, part of you thought that would change. that he’d change for you.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“what did you except?”

his voice was ice cold, indifferent and… bored. as if you pouring your heart out to him mere seconds ago meant nothing.

you realized then that you had been terribly wrong. mistaken the way he held you, and kissed you, as something more. “i just figured-”

his eyes blazed with frustration, “figured what, hm? that i’d eventually soften up? grow to love you?”

yes.

“i don’t know. would that be so difficult?”

“yes.”

your face twitched, unable to mask how deeply that hurt. your throat tightened with regret. regret of ever tangling yourself with him, regret with voicing your feelings.

“you knew what i wanted from this arrangement. you had agreed. we were on the same page.”

the regret and melancholy that had ebbed and festered in your heart turned to anger. blinding, burning rage.

“i had told you, made it so very clear that nothing long term would come from this. i can’t give you that.”

that rage was threatening to consume you.

your voice shook with anger, but the look on his face took the crack in your voice as one of sadness, weakness, “you won’t give me that. it’s not that you can’t.”

he said nothing, because you both knew it was true. “look, kid-”

“don’t-” your voice rasped, “don’t call me that.”

his fingers clenched in frustration, breathing through his nose as he tried to collect himself. he had never heard your voice grow that cold. not towards him and it made his bones ache.

“it’s nothing personal. i’m just not want you’re lookin’ for. not for something constant, and if things were different, if i was a different person then maybe. but im not.”

your eyes burned, a few stray tears falling but you were quick to wipe them away. yes, you had come to an agreement prior to this. but things had changed, the way he looked at you, and held you.

the whispered words in between your tangled limbs had proven that. he lingering touches and soft eyes.

he must’ve been one hell of a liar if he didn’t mean any of that.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“i don’t believe you.”

you sniffed softly, looking at him and you were sure the devastation was clear in your eyes. “because if everything that passed between us, if you were able to fake that. you’re a monster.”

“you knew what this was when we started.”

you missed the way his fingers dug into the armrest of the couch. shaking your head as you stood up. “get out.”

he felt the chill of your words wash over him, and the part inside him that yearned for you, desperately begged him to speak up. to tell you that this was all some big misunderstanding.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

what he was doing was stupid. but it was for the best.

you deserved better, and he’d never be able to give that to you.

yes you would.

he forced the voice back, swallowing roughly before standing up. grabbing his things as he watched you try not to fall apart before him.

the words of ‘i’m sorry,’ heavy on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

his footsteps heavy as he left your apartment. his heart aching the further he walked away and it comforted him a bit to know you’d never forgive him again.

there would be no hope, no one to hurt or disappoint and he could live with that. knowing that he let you go before you could begin to hate him.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Bugatti EB 18/3 Chiron Concept, 1999, By Italdesign. Soon after he Volkswagen Group took over Bugatti three concepts were produced. They were all powered by 555bhp, 6.3 litre 18 cylinder engines arranged in three banks – hence the 18/3 part of the car’s name. The Chiron refers to Monegasque driver Louis Chiron (1899-1979), who is best known for his wins in Bugattis. The Chiron model name was later used on Bugatti’s hypercar which launched in 2016.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 11)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship (everyone is an adult).

-

It was Suguru’s lips colliding with his that brought him out of that toxic trance, Suguru used his last weapon, the most lethal he had. Gojo melted against him, unable to hold that track of selfish thoughts, instead giving all his attention to his husband's lips, his hand ended up sliding from the knob and Geto smiled against his mouth, pecking those pouting lips a couple of times before smashing a hard kiss on his forehead and sending him a disapproving look. The white-haired man shrugged like a scolded child. He almost ruined it... almost.

“I’m not sure if we are there yet, Gumi…” You mewled timidly. But he needed to fight for his right to have you, Megumi was burning to be yours, literally burning, he could not think straight anymore, you were all he thought about nowadays, you and him, just that. 

You'd only been together for a two month, and you hadn't been intimate yet, maybe some fooling around, here and there, some make out and touching— you'd jerked him off and he'd fingered your pussy after a stressful mission but that was as far as you two had gone... you couldn't find it in you to end the transaction, not when you were terrified of confusing his name with one of his parents. Not when Gojo and Geto had given you an ultimatum. Not when even now they were likely listening in from the other side of the door, if you judged by the shadows you had seen under the door, discreet enough to go unnoticed by your distracted boyfriend who prioritized his attention on you, but undoubtedly blatantly indiscreet enough for you to know and strive to keep your promise.

Nor Gojo nor Geto had been happy about your new relationship with their son but when you explained Sukuna's sudden appearance and your inability to go any other way, they understood, reluctantly… but they understood.

"Not under our roof." Suguru had spat severely, "NEVER under our roof, (Y/N) ... or I'm not responsible for my actions." With that, he spined on his heels with more sharpness that it was necessary and walked away to smoke a cigarette in solitude. His silhouette, the clear posture of an annoyed, irritated and highly conflicted, man.

Leaving behind a very guilty sorceress and a very shaken husband. You sucked in a shaky breath and the lone tear that ebbed the corner of your eye was quickly whipped away before it could even roll down your cheek. 

"Oh, my sweet pup, don’t cry,” Gojo spelled sweetly, burying you in a bear hug “this is all my fault, I should never have—”

“Don’t!” you squealed, “don’t even think about it. I wanted to!... I still DO.”

You felt his lips press a kiss on the crown of your head, to then hear the sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he chuckled, “I feel lighter already. Thank you.”

You opted to stay inside his warmness, the silence was comfortable, nevertheless, was also brief.

“I know you didn't have a choice and the last thing I want is for you to hurt Megumi," Gojo wanted the best for his son, but also for himself. He wanted you so bad, it physically hurt him. His knuckles sliding down the softness of your cheek, slowly, so slowly, felt more like if he was sewing the texture of your skin to his brain. That blue, shiny gaze firm on yours. Searching your stare insistently. Stare that refused to meet his, out of embarrassment. 

"Look at me, (Y/N).” Gojo demanded in a calm tone which quickly grew sharp. “You owe me that much-"

"Y-You have no idea how hard this is for me as well!"

Your outburst was cancelled by his arm getting tighter around you, burying you deeper into his chest, your nose dug hard against his shirt to inhale his fragrance, smelling Gojo always calmed you down, it was one of his many gifts. He smelled safe, if that was even possible, everything about Gojo Satoru made you feel safe. You melted on him, and he smiled against your hair.

"You miss us?" It wasn’t a question, it sounded like one, but it wasn’t.

Your head nodded against his broad chest, and his hug tightened even more. Tight, so tight it should hurt but it didn’t. Gojo’s fingers began to make circles on your back. Massaging the tension away with tender motions, melting the anguish in you with his tireless compression.

"We miss you so damn much, that's why Suguru is so-" his eyes shifted to the aforementioned, who was already on his third cigarette, "-is so upset."

"With me?"

You felt how deep his sigh were, when his chest rose against your cheek.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't know how to be upset with Megumi, pretty. He adores him way too much-…So, you'll have to put up with his bad mood for a while," he laughed but not the merry sound you loved. Then, he kissed each request against your forehead, soft and warm kisses filled with tender pleading, "...please, please don't judge him for his behavior. Suguru isn't good at sharing-"

Your head whipped up to look at him, and he chuckled. "He's not good at sharing with anyone but me."

You giggled, returning to your original position. No! a little close, if that was possible. "Now what?" your lips asked, afraid of the answer.

"We’ll figure it out and while we do it..." Gojo felt conflicted, even so, there was one thing he already knew he wanted from you. Warm palms dug thick thumbs under the curve of your jaw to help him tilt your head up for some needed eye contact. Once your eyes met, Gojo’s understanding look faded away and his reverent grin turned icy "...don't let Megumi fuck you." All tenderness melted away, and he repeated, "... promise me, (Y/N), you won't sleep with him until we know how to handle this."

You promised.

"I'm afraid that's NOT enough." 

It startled you. Suguru Geto, standing behind you, he dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and step on it, those onyx orbs he called eyes, black and devoid of any kind emotion, were kinda shocking but what shocked you the most was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Let's do a binding bow-"

"Suguru—" 

Gojo started but was quickly stopped by his husband with hard squeeze to his shoulder, it carried a hidden message, something only Gojo could appreciate: ‘let me be the irrational for once’- Gojo fell silent. 

“I already promised to-”

Geto denying his head cut you short.

"It doesn't really make any difference-…but the binding bow, that will actually make you keep your promise."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Suguru?" It was easy to detect the touch of indignation in your voice. Abruptly, you pulled yourself out of Gojo's arms to stare at Suguru with a hint of defiance. "Don't you-"

"I'm not going to let Megumi get hurt, DAMN IT!" The special grade sorcerer bellowed, rushing to you until were face to face. “Over my death body,” he threatened, your mouth scrunched up, a complaint about to come out before being cut off by him. “No, it’s not what you think either,” Geto added, quickly. “I don’t plan on losing you either. You are not going anywhere…”

You had never seen him so visceral, so emotional. Gojo was the creature full of fragile feelings, not Suguru, but apparently you had gotten under his skin, deeper than he had even anticipated. 

“You are mine-...Ours,” he corrected and Gojo chuckled, shaking his head, amused “...if you and Megumi start getting intimate it will only complicate everything.” The raven-haired insisted, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you closer to him, “the binding bow will prevent this.”

“How? I don’t see how-”

“Just grant me this, (Y/N).” He pleaded, grabbing you by the forearms, desperate, crazed, "...I'm dying here, just grant me this, I trust you...but even though I love my Megumi more than my own life," now, you felt your cheeks being wrap in his warm, big hands, "I don't trust him, at least not with you. I know how he feels and after all, he is our son."

Suguru didn't have to explain any further, Gojo supported him, and you ended up, accepting. How right he was, how much Megumi resembled his adoptive parents. Because right now, he refused to accept a negative.

"Is that a, no? you don’t want us to—” he asked, a taciturn emotion kidnapping his features, and the hurt in his eyes made you feel sick to your stomach, you were weak for this entire family, to some more than other, even so, they all have a part of your heart.  

“I do-”

“You do?”

Megumi's eyes sparkled, filled with renewed hope and his parents felt a lump in their throats. Fushiguro climbed on top of you, slow and cat-like, you crawled back until your head hit the headboard of his bed and he laughed amused, excited, hands equally excited sliding down the length of your legs, you could almost hear him purr.

If there was one thing you loved about him, it was the difference that did exist between him and his parents. His shy essence was unbreakable, making him a tender and dedicated creature even in movements predestined to be abrupt. He accommodated you under him prioritizing your comfort over his own, he would have to put more tension on his body, but it was worth it if you were happy.

"Gumi-" you mewled, and he swallowed your next complaint with thirsty lips and slippery tongue. "Just let me show you, (Y/N)," you heard him mumble against your neck, "I know I can also make you happy."

Also?... you didn't dare to delve into that comment, it sounded too desperate, coming from a place deep inside Megumi, a secret and intimate place.

It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to Gojo and Geto, like a bullet going through their selfish hearts, really, they wouldn't give this pleasure to Megumi? Were they really that self-absorbed? They both turned to look at each other and after a few seconds, you saw the shadow under the door disappear completely.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette asked when he noticed you distracted, and you shook your head. Yes, there was a problem, but it wasn't Megumi's problem.

“Nop, babe.” 

Megumi tugged you forward-or maybe he'd lunged toward you of his own accord, he loved when you tagged him as you ‘babe’—and just like that, you were kissing with the fervor and passion of touch-starved souls all pent-up repression and stress, released in a single instant. The force of the collision, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, was deliciously bruising, enough to knock the breath out of you. 

Megumi gasped your name, smearing each syllable in saliva and praises, overly excited, wondering if only him was feeling that cord of electricity running through his veins, fiery adrenaline coursing through his body, blood pounding in his ears as a shiver ran down his spine, so powerful that he thought he might collapse on top of you.

Each effort of Megumi making you let yourself go more, letting you mind fly free, maybe too free to your own good. Your hands tangled in his hair in an instant, pulling him even closer, even harder against your lips as your excitement soaked your panties.

“…. May I have a taste, (Y/N)?”

You had half a second to entertain the request of your boyfriend, before he asked again, just sweeter. 

“One lick or two,” those were the last words you thought you'd hear coming from Megumi, "I just want to put my mouth down there for a minute, please, my love-... may I?" 

His lips quickly came in aid to his goal, eating your neck in sloppy but awfully well-planned kisses, bites and licks, a joint effort to weaken your reason. It was slowly working. Pressing back with his tongue even as a moan began to well up in his chest, “P-Please?

You squealed, a sign of your upcoming defeat. He used that weakness to pull your bodies together for an instant of pressure that sent fireworks off all across your skin. A sensation that you had only experienced with Gojo and Geto, confusing your mind with sparks of recognition, men who were not there felt present in each caress that their son executed without fail.

You surrender to his wholehearted efforts, it was too much, too vivid. Megumi had shown his claws, and they were sharp, going deep, deeper than you ever expected. Sharp in need, tearing you apart like a ragged doll. Your lips parted and the affirmative he so craved was about to pour out-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For your recent event can I request

Blue Ocean and #2

Thank you

Three Little Words (Gojo x Reader)

CW: rejection, blood, slight spoilers for the jjk movie, implied past satosugu i guess, mutual pining, reader is female, implied death, brief mentions of blood, mentions of injury

Event Masterlist | Event Guide | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

"Sorry, not interested."

Three little words. Three little words was all it took to shatter your heart.

You had spent the last three years of your life trying to track down the person attached to the other end of your soulmate thread.

All that time spent hoping. All that time spent daydreaming about what he would be like, only for this.

For you to meet him because he was your new coworker, and fellow teacher at Jujutsu Tech. For him to reject you upon first sight.

You hadn't even spoken a word yet. All it took was him glancing at the red ribbon connecting the two of you for him to shut you down.

Your mind went blank. There was no way you heard him correctly, right...?

"What?"

"I'm not interested."

He stated casually, as if he was just commenting on the weather.

"You-You don't even know my name yet!"

With all logic having flown out the window, this was the best you could come up with.

"Oh, you're right. What's your name?"

Stupefied, you told him.

"That's pretty. Anyways, it's not you, it's me."

Taking your blank gaze as understanding, he perked up.

"My name's Gojo Satoru. I hope we can be friends!"

With an enthusiastic handshake, he was off, leaving you standing in shock, unsure of what just happened.

Reaching up and touching your cheek, you were surprised to find that it was wet.

Huh, that was strange. When did you start crying?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days turned to weeks turned to months.

At first, things were a little awkward between you and your soulmate.

You were hurt, angry and confused. But the more time you spent with him, the more those feelings ebbed away, his presence a balm that soothed all your hurts and insecurities.

Why. Why did he have to reject you? Why did he have to be so insufferable? Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive? Why did he have to be aware that he was so goddamn attractive?

Why couldn't he send you any clear signals?

One day he was playfully calling you his 'best bud' while the two of you played pranks on Nanami or got into mischief.

And the next he was tenderly cupping your cheek and running his thumb over the dark bags under your eyes; concern evident on his face as he quietly asked if you were doing okay, and telling you to take a break.

And if he really wasn't interested, why didn't he officially break the soulmate bond? Why did he change the subject every time you tried to bring it up?

It was driving you insane. You were falling for him. And hard. But the echo of his words replayed in your head every time you considered broaching the subject.

You didn't know what to do.

So you did the only thing you could; you kept it professional. After all, the two of you were coworkers, nothing more, nothing less.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gojo was tired of just being your coworker.

He wanted more. Had wanted more from the moment he laid eyes on your breathtaking face.

Sure, it had broken a visceral part of him to reject you, but if it was to keep you safe, he would do it a million times over.

However, no matter how much he told himself he couldn't be with you, that he had to officially sever the soulmate bond, he couldn't bring himself to officially break the tie that made the two of you soulmates.

The more time he spent with you, the more time he got to spend with you, the harder he fell.

He had never felt like this towards anyone. The only person that had ever come close before this had been Suguru, but his relationship with him had been soured by the fact that they both knew Gojo's soulmate was out there.

But when you were in his life, his entire world lit up. Everything was brighter and more vibrant. He felt like you saw him for Satoru, the man he was, instead of the burdens fate and Jujutsu society had placed upon his shoulders.

So selfishly he had kept the soulmate bond intact.

And now, staring at your mangled form laying before him, the precious blood that belonged in your veins leaking out onto the floor as you struggled to breathe, he remembered.

He remembered why he wasn't allowed to love. Why he had pushed you away.

God, he was so stupid to think that Suguru wouldn't go after you. He was so stupid for believing that his friend wasn't irredeemable.

And his stupidity and selfishness could very well cost you your life.

"You never change, do you."

Only then did Gojo realize that he had been speaking aloud, voicing his inner turmoil as the two people he cared for most lay dying before him.

Suguru coughed, wincing as the motion aggravated his injuries.

"You say that she's injured because you selfishly clung to your soulmate bond, right?"

"What are you implying Suguru?"

Gojo asked, weariness and heartbreak in his voice as he applied pressure to your injuries. He couldn't take you to get help until he took care of Suguru, but he wanted to give his former best friend a chance to say his last words.

"What I'm saying is that she got hurt because you were selfish, yes, but not in the way you think you were. You aren't selfish because you refuse to break the bond. You were selfish because you kept your distance. You could've come to her rescue much earlier, but you didn't because doing so would admit that she meant something to you. And you were more comfortable keeping her at a distance, because you didn't want to have to fear losing her."

Suguru sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"You know, I never hated the people at Jujutsu Tech. If she survives, tell her how you really feel. She deserves at least that. And after that, tell her I'm sorry, okay."

Gojo barked a laugh, tears burning the backs of his eyes as a looming sense of grief and apprehension filled him. He knew what he had to do next.

"Okay, I will."

He smiled.

"Wingmanning me till the end. My best friend."

His face softened as he reminisced on better times.

"My one and only."

Suguru returned the smile, and Gojo finished him, gently closing his eyes afterwards.

Standing and wiping the tears from his eyes, he turned and picked you up, before stepping into a new chapter of his life.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you woke up, you were greeted by the bright white of the hospital ceiling.

Groaning, you attempted to sit up, only to be stopped by the massive man-child sprawled across your lap.

With a snort, he shot up, disoriented as he rejoined the land of the waking.

Noticing you were awake, he froze, before reaching out and grabbing your hands.

"Can I say something?"

"Right now?"

You asked, a little confused as to what could be so important that he was waiting at your bedside for you to wake up.

"Yes."

His unusually somber tome threw you off.

"Of course. What's the matter?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Um, I'm confused. For what?"

"For rejecting you. This is by no means any excuse, but the last person I was close to abandoned me. I was afraid to let anyone get close to me, but instead of facing my fear, I excused it by telling myself that if I let myself care for you then curses would target you to get to me. So I told myself that it was to protect you instead of acknowledging that I'm selfish coward who was just trying to protect myself-"

"Hold up."

You cut off his rambling, needing a moment to process.

"Are you trying to tell me that you rejected me because you were afraid that in the end I was going to betray you, but you were too emotionally constipated to acknowledge that, so instead you convinced yourself that you were pushing me away for my own protection?"

Downcast he nodded.

"And you're apologizing for that."

"Yes. If I had just protected you by staying by your side, you never would have gotten hurt! The only reason you're in here is because I was too scared to admit that I love you!"

You froze.

"Say it again."

"What."

"What you just said."

Realization dawned on Gojo's face, and his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

"I love you."

He murmured shyly, looking at the comforter.

You leaned forwards and hugged him, burying your head in his chest.

"Again."

You whispered, lips brushing against the fabric of his uniform.

"I love you."

A content smile spread across your face.

"I'm still sorta pissed at you, but you have no idea how happy you just made me."

You said, nuzzling into his shirt.

"I love you too."

He froze in disbelief. There was no way you returned his feelings. He didn't deserve that.

"Do you really forgive me?"

"Mmmm, say it one more time for me."

"I love you."

"Okay I forgive you."

Finally at peace, you basked in the warmth from being in the arms of your soulmate.

Who knew that those three little words were all it took.

Three little words to heal your heart.

Cuddling with soulmate, you knew that you would be okay, as long as he continued to tell you those three little words.

You deep personal reflection was interrupted by Gojo's voice.

"Oh, by the way, Suguru says sorry."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[silverskye13]

Angst prompt courtesy of: @theunderscorwolph

[Part 1 of 2]

[Part 2 Found Here]

Helsknight waited... Probably too long to check in on Tanguish. In his defense, the last time he spoke to Tanguish, he was heading to Hermitcraft, and while Hermitcraft was far from safe, it was, in its own ways, safer than hels. There were fewer people, fewer hazards in general, and there was Tango. Tango wasn't a fighter. As far as Helsknight could tell, he was mostly just squirrelly, and a bit cowardly. But he was fiercely loyal. That went a long way. He had even, misguidedly, attempted to save Tanguish from Helsknight once. Helsknight, who recognized he was a big, scary, angry-looking, armed and armored knight, could respect that. And Tango and Tanguish were friends, and they got wrapped up in each other sometimes, and this was far from the first time Tanguish was gone all day talking to his other half about some project.

It was, however, the first time he'd been gone for two days in a row.

Helsknight didn't really consider himself to be a worrier. Tanguish was an adult. He could take care of himself. And even if he couldn't take care of himself, Helsknight could recognize that everyone had some level of pride. Butting in on someone else's business uninvited was a great way to be a nuisance at best, and a problem at worst. So, Tanguish didn't come back by the evening? If there was a problem, Helsknight would respectfully let him handle it. Tanguish knew to come get him for help. And while Helsknight would feel truly guilty if his dithering caused Tanguish to respawn, he could take some solace in knowing he would wreak holy vengeance on whoever did it.

[That was one of the perks of being a knight: when you pointed at someone and said something along the lines of "Through hels or high water I will smite thee" or some such dramatic nonsense, people tended to get out of your way and let you get to business.]

Day two of no Tanguish, and Helsknight went from being passively concerned, to something closer to open nervousness. He asked, as subtly as he could, around the Colosseum if anyone had seen him. No one had, though Martyn did make a joke about Tanguish finally getting wise and finding a real knight to squire to.

[EB really needed to stop getting between them when Martyn said things like that. The power of a bloody nose on shitty humor was astounding.]

Eventually, Helsknight had given up and decided the best thing to do was go to Hermitcraft and track the little pest down himself. He suited up for what he thought might be a mild amount of trouble -- it was always possible he would run into Wels when he was on Hermitcraft, and if he planned on searching for someone, he wanted to minimize the time he was fighting his double. He donned his chainmail, and the netherite gauntlets and grieves. He made sure the clasps on his boots were pulled tight. He cinched on his netherite sword, and made sure it pulled easily from the sheath.

He picked up his cloak last, and gave it a contemplative frown. In hels, the cloak was a distinctive and somewhat necessary piece of costuming. It was the visual shorthand he needed to inform everyone that he was a knight, and therefore probably knew his way around a sword [and wasn't worth mugging]. For those who knew knights, it told them what Order he was a part of. Useful. On Hermitcraft, however... Being able to tell at a glance that he was a red-themed knight in dark armor, who looked suspiciously like but not quite enough like one of the other server members...

While Helsknight weighed the pros and cons of stealth and subtly, two things he was famously very bad at, the shield hanging on his wall shuddered and kicked, and someone tumbled out of the reflection with a shriek. Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He did a slow count to ten in his head, and tried not to be very, very annoyed he'd just spent twenty minutes putting on armor for no good gods-damned reason.

"Tanguish," Helsknight hummed, when he thought he could keep his voice relatively neutral, "for no reason in particular, I think we should make some ground rules about when you should check in with people--"

Helsknight turned, looked down, and anything else he was going to say vanished out of his head with such abruptness, it made his ears ring. Laying prone on the floor of Helsknight's cell, staring with wide, somewhat terrified eyes and the kind of grin that screamed about recently realized mistakes, was Tango. The Hermit blinked up at him. Helsknight blinked down at him. Somewhere down the hall, somebody laughed at something, which was their only indication that the whole world hadn't frozen with them when they made eye contact.

Helsknight could say, with honesty, he never expected to be put in a situation where a Hermit stumbled into hels, much less into his cell in the Colosseum, surrounded by all the biggest, scariest, most dangerous people in hels. At a complete loss on what to do, he fell back on what he thought was safest: namely, making sure no one got killed over it. Helsknight leaped over Tango -- who screeched ingloriously -- crossed to the door of his cell and slammed it shut. There was no lock -- he'd never needed one until now -- so he settled on turning his back to the door and bracing against it, content in the knowledge that, should someone come inside, he would be the first one to know.

It did not hearten him to see that Tango was still on his floor. He had apparently, when Helsknight stepped over him, curled up as small as he could, anticipating some kind of attack. He'd thrown his arms up over his face, and now peered at Helsknight through his fingers, humming tuneless, horrified syllables.

"Tangotek," Helsknight said, concentrating on keeping his voice very calm and very quiet, "you aren't welcome in my home."

"I didn't know I was going to end up here," Tango whispered back, his voice high and tense as a violin string.

"Go home."

Something flickered in Tango's eyes, something like determination. Helsknight hated that look.

"Uhm. N-no can do. Sorry."

"Can't." Helsknight said, barring his teeth at the Hermit. "Or won't."

Tango made a face at him, tight-lipped and tense. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Uhm. If. If I say won't, will you kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Then I can't. Definitely, definitely, physically can't." Tango looked around, scrambled to his feet, and dashed to Helsknight's bed. He, admirably, only winced a little when he set his spawn -- probably worried hels worked like the nether, and the bed would manage to explode somehow. With a bit more confidence this time, Tango stated again: "Can't."

"I can break that." Helsknight seethed quietly, and tried very hard not to grind his teeth. "It would piss me off. I like being able to sleep here. But I can break that, and send you back to Hermitcraft."

"But you don't want to do that," Tango said nervously. "Because-- uh-- you'd have to kill me, and Tanguish would be really, really upset about that."

"Tanguish isn't here. So either run home, or I will... escort you there." Helsknight put on his most wicked grin, and placed his hand on his sword meaningfully.

Tango staggered a step back away from Helsknight, somehow managing to go paler than he already was. The redstone freckles adorning his face sparked, and the flame of his hair took on a slightly green cast. The idiot Hermit was apparently made of very stern stuff, though, because he didn't flee for the nearest reflection. He took a few seconds to breathe. He had his own sword, a fact that Helsknight only noticed because his hand twitched towards the hilt uncertainly. Helsknight wasn't alarmed. Tango didn't move like someone who knew how to use a sword well, and he was fairly sure the Hermit's hands were shaking so much he would drop it if he tried to draw it.

Tango swallowed hard, darted a tongue across his lips, and asked with only a minimal tremor in his voice, "Uh, T-Tanguish isn't here? Like, not here here, or like... Not in hels, here?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "Is he supposed to be?"

"He left my place yesterday, and said he would be back in a few hours," Tango explained quickly. "I thought-- like, you know, maybe he decided to wait until morning? But. He didn't come back. And I got worried. He. You know. He tells me if he can't make it. It's-- all it takes is a reflection to talk. You know? And I did look in my reflection, but I couldn't see anything, which normally means he's not by one. It was just dark."

Tango crossed his arms. It was a gesture that somehow made him look smaller.

"I thought-- I hoped-- you know. Hopping through the reflection. I could just check on him. Make sure he was okay. I think. I think maybe it just took me to his spawn point."

Tango thought that statement over, then flashed Helsknight an incredulous, almost horrified look, "Why is his spawn point your bed?"

"Tanguish was supposed to be with you," Helsknight frowned.

"You haven't seen him?"

"No." Helsknight rested his hand on his sword hilt, mostly just so he wouldn't fidget. "Could he have gone back to Hermitcraft and you just missed each other?"

"I checked," Tango said, shaking his head. "I have... X gave a few of us console access. I did a few scans... Is there. Anyone you know with that kind of access for hels?"

"Hels and Hermitcraft are different places." Helsknight wrinkled his nose. "Maybe Evil X?"

"Cool! We'll talk to him then!"

"Oh sure," Helsknight spat derisively, "I'll just go knock on the front door to Evil X's tower and ask politely for admin access, will I?"

Tango grimaced. "Will he not... Like that kind of thing?"

"Oh he'd just love it. One more thing to hold over my head." Helsknight snorted. "It wouldn't work anyway. I have a pact that says I can't directly oppose him. If he, for the gods know what reason, has Tanguish, and I knew--" Helsknight made a parrying motion with his hand. "It's better if I don't know. Keeps my hands from being tied."

"Huh," Tango leaned back against the wall, slightly more at ease. Helsknight wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the Hermit was getting comfortable. "I kind of figured you and X-- uh, Evil X, would be friends."

"Why in hels would we be friends?"

"Well, I'm friends with Wels. And. You know. X. I just kind of figured..."

Helsknight decided the best thing to do with this statement was ignore it.

"I will check the house," Helsknight said. "You go back to your server. When I find him, I'll tell you."

Tango shook his head vehemently. "No! Nuh-uh. This is my rescue mission."

"While I appreciate your tenacity," Helsknight bared his teeth at the Hermit, causing him to shrink back a step, "hels is for helsmets. You wouldn't last ten minutes here. And I'm not wasting time keeping you safe."

"You protect Tanguish just fine."

"Tanguish can outrun everything that chases, and out-clever anything else."

"And he came from me," Tango said, crossing his arms petulantly. "I'm plenty smart! And I can be speedy in a pinch!" He sniffed. "We'll just give your house a look-around, easy-peasy."

Helsknight made to argue, and then a thought occurred to him.

"This isn't my house."

Tango blinked. His eyes shifted around the small, relatively bare room. The single desk, shield mounted on the wall, and bed.

"Is it... An outpost or something? You put this up while you were exploring?"

"This is my Colosseum cell," Helsknight said. When Tango only stared at him blankly, "Surely Tanguish has told you about the Colosseum."

"I mean... He did."

"I have a room here. For when I don't want to walk across hels to sleep."

"There's a bunch of fighters out there."

"There is."

"Fighters who... Dislike... Hermits."

Helsknight snorted.

"W-well!!" Tango sputtered, noticeably more nervous, but doing his best to ignore it. "I'm! Still not leaving! So! We'll just have to be quick. And once we get outside--"

"We'll have to walk across hels. Hels, the city, is very big, and has a lot of people in it."

Tango put his face in his hands and let out a keening whine of dismay through his fingers. It was the kind of noise that suggested he didn't know how to growl in exasperation, so he howled instead. Helsknight, begrudgingly, admitted to himself he was being [a little] harsh. He decided, against his better judgement, to have a little mercy.

"You really want to find Tanguish."

"Yes! Yes I do!" Tango snapped, looking up at him beseechingly. "I mean, is it really that hard to believe you're not the only one who wants him to be safe?"

Helsknight's skepticism must've shown on his face, because Tango let out another of his exasperated, half-syllable noises and ran his hands back through his hair.

"Look, I promise I won't get in your way. And I'll go home the second we find him. I just... I'm worried."

Helsknight sighed and tried his best not to roll his eyes. He crossed the room to where he'd left his cloak, and motioned for Tango to join him. Hesitantly, nervously, Tango stood and waited as Helsknight flung the cloak over his shoulders. It would have been far too long, but he gathered some of the length to turn into a makeshift hood, bunching it awkwardly around Tango's shoulders. It took some folding and some pinning, but after a few minutes, Helsknight stepped back and nodded. It was passable anyway.

"Keep this on while we're in the Colosseum," Helsknight informed him, pulling the hood down low over Tango's face. "With any luck, people will assume you're Tanguish. Or at least that you're supposed to be with me."

"And, uh, if that doesn't work?" Tango asked, his voice pitching the barest bit higher in nervousness.

"We'll burn that bridge when we cross it," Helsknight snorted. He checked one last time to make sure his gear was all in place, and, squaring his shoulders, led the way out and into the cells.

Nobody noticed them leave the cells. Or, at the very least, nobody noticed who Tango was. A few people stopped Helsknight to try and talk, but when he made it clear he had places to be, they let him pass. Helsknight's patience was not a thing anyone wanted to shorten, even those few dangerous people who could probably weather the aftermath.

Soon enough they were walking down the streets of hels, Tango hovering so close to Helsknight's side they occasionally walked into each other. Helsknight wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to be even more annoyed by all of Tango's jabbering. The Hermit would make observations as they walked, pointing at buildings and asking questions that Helsknight rarely deigned to answer.

They weren't here to sight-see. They were here to find Tanguish. So when Tango asked him his twentieth question of the morning [You guys have a working water fountain? How do you have water in hels? Is it an update suppression thing, or does hels have different rules than a standard nether hub?] Helsknight scowled and started walking so quickly, Tango had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Panting, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over cobblestones, he couldn't ask any more questions.

[Praise every god and saint in hels.]

Eventually they turned onto the street Helsknight's house was on, and immediately he knew something was wrong. Even from the end of the street, Helsknight could see the front door was open. A cold fist of dread clenched itself in his stomach, and Helsknight ran up the street, Tango protesting as he tried to keep pace.

The house had been ransacked. The door wasn't just open, it had been halfway knocked off its hinges, and the window at the front of the building had been smashed. He hadn't yet stepped inside, but from the red light streaming into the open doorway, Helsknight could see his little dining table and chairs had been knocked over. There was broken glass on the floor, and the pale gleam of metal -- Tanguish's dagger, dropped in a scuffle. There was no blood that Helsknight could see, but that was cold comfort.

"Oh... Shoot." Tango panted, standing beside him. "This is your house?"

Helsknight found himself swallowing past a growing lump in his throat. "Yes."

"Did you... Not go home yesterday?"

"No."

"Shoot." Tango said again, tugging on the edges of Helsknight's cloak nervously. "He left Hermitcraft in the afternoon. Would he-- would he have gone straight to the Colosseum if--"

"Probably."

"So. So this probably happened when he got here," Tango glanced up at Helsknight, gauging the knight's hesitation, and then picked his way cautiously to the door. "Does your house get broken into often?"

"If it did, there would be a lot fewer thieves in this city."

"I'll uh... Take that as a no." Tango stepped gingerly inside, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots. His tail, a liquid, fiery thing like his hair, swept around the floor, glinting off the glass shards like a field of sparks. He picked up Tanguish's knife and flipped it over in his hands, studying it before slipping it onto his belt. "No blood. Obvious signs of a struggle. I mean, he had to have been ambushed right? Otherwise he would've run for it. And they took him alive because, well, I mean, he would've just respawned right?"

The lump in Helsknight's throat got tighter. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Right?" Tango prompted again.

"How much do you know about helsmets? How our respawns work?" Helsknight asked quietly.

"I know respawn is rough for you guys." Tango raised an eyebrow at him. "Or, I assume, I guess. Tanguish seems pretty scared of dying, anyway. And I know you take deaths in the Colosseum very seriously. A lot of warrior culture weirdness stuff."

Helsknight swallowed. The fear of speaking his thoughts out loud grabbed him by the throat and pinned him still. Adrenaline, cold and sourceless, sent ice through his veins. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword, his instincts as a knight searching for a source for his alarm to fight and dispatch, even when his logical mind knew there was none.

[He didn't want to say it out loud.]

"Sometimes."

Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He didn't look at Tango. His eyes wandered around the broken glass at the Hermit's feet, watching the flame of his tail glint off the brittle, jagged edges.

"Sometimes."

He swallowed again. He adjusted the buckle on his gauntlet. It suddenly felt too loose around his wrist. He was too vulnerable to talk about this. He needed plate mail, or a helmet. Hels, he needed castle walls and a full garrison.

"Sometimes we... When the universe... We are. Uhm. We're different than--"

He could feel Tango's gaze heavy on him. His skin prickled with the weight of his stare and his own growing, frigid alarm. Something like panic, a rare and terrible beast, was crawling awake in Helsknight's stomach. It gnashed its teeth against his insides, and he felt the desire to laugh, or shout, or throw something, or maybe just throw up in general.

[Don't say it out loud.]

"Tango, sometimes we dont--"

"Well it's about gods-damned time!"

The amount of relief Helsknight felt at the sound of that hostile voice was profound and dissonant, and incredibly welcome. Mostly though, it was an excuse to focus all his pent up fear on something physical he could kill, and he praised every god and saint in hels as he turned to face the newcomers.

A group of four vaguely thug-like helsmets stood in the street less than twenty paces away from him. Helsknight's gaze swept across them, noting their mix-match of leather and gold armor. Two had swords -- gold and iron. One was twirling an axe in her hand in a flourish that was probably supposed to be threatening, but mostly just told Helsknight she'd been practicing axe-flourishes instead of axe-throws. The person who'd spoken, a rather weasely looking thug with a knife on his belt, grinned with glad maliciousness.

"We've been waiting for you to show up, tin can."

Helsknight didn't rise to the [insult?]. It wasn't worth his time. He cast a quick glance in Tango's direction, catching the fading flicker as the Hermit hid somewhere in the house. Good. Helsknight would prefer he not be under foot.

"Who are you?" Helsknight asked coolly, not really expecting a response. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand restlessly, itching to draw his blade. "And what have you done with Tanguish?"

"Come quietly and maybe we'll tell you," the ringleader said, motioning broadly with one hand for his thugs to fan out around him.

The three fighters moved to circle Helsknight, one stopping just in front of the ringleader, while the other two began stalking further up the street. Helsknight did the mental math of four against one, while he was surrounded, and decided he didn't like the odds.

Helsknight attacked before the first swordsman, the one with the golden sword, could pass him. He turned and drew his sword in the same motion, and the strength behind his cleaving overhead strike shattered the softer metal of their blade neatly. His second swing, lightning quick, took them in the throat. He pointed his bloodied sword at the second swordsman, who froze in shock, blade up in a shaking guard position, as they watched their ally fade into twitching death throws.

"Will you make me ask twice?" Helsknight hummed, his voice as level as the point of his sword.

The swordsman's eyes darted over his shoulder. Helsknight frowned, felt more than he heard the approach of something. He ducked and spun, sword arching over his head to catch a weapon strike that instinct told him was coming. There was the loud clash of metal on metal, and when Helsknight straightened, he found two more thugs had joined from... Somewhere. The roof perhaps. Helsknight backed up several steps, trying to keep the entire group in his sight line, and his back to his home. At least with his back to a wall, no one could get behind him. The four with weapons drawn advanced on him slowly, wary of his speed, and the efficiency of his strikes.

"Throw down your weapon, gladiator," the ringleader called to him. "If all you want is to see your friend again, we'll take you right to him." He flashed a wicked grin. "Though we might rough you up a little first."

At that, the axe-weilder leaped forward -- some uncanny sense of Helsknight's, honed for danger, demanded he duck as a whisper of noise hissed by his ear -- and she fell back shrieking, a bloody hole punched in her shoulder. It was only when the arrow cracked against a far wall that Helsknight realized she'd been shot at close range with a very high power bow. Tango leaned through the broken window, a terrified grin on his face, another arrow already knocked.

"Fight fair why don't ya!" He crowed and loosed his second shaft. This one grazed the thug closest to Helsknight, and he used the distraction to ram his sword through their chest.

What followed was a frenzy of breath and movement, seconds that ticked by as ages that he measured in the studied arc of his blade. One thug, then two, then three, scythed down like wheat in a field, crude skill and cruder weaponry breaking against his fortress of an onslaught. It was only when the last one fell that he realized the ringleader was making a run for it. Silent as a breath, Helsknight yanked his knife from his belt, aimed and threw. It hilted itself in the back of the ringleader's left knee, and he fell to the cobblestones howling.

"Holy-- nice shot!" Tango laughed, the high piping sound of the traumatized and terrified. "What are you--? Wait! Helsknight! Wait a tick--!"

Helsknight wasn't listening. He was angry, and the implication that Tanguish was captured somewhere goaded him on like a burning brand between his shoulder blades. There was a very mean little animal of panic in his chest again, warring with the adrenaline of the fight, and he thought, if he had the mind to, he might tear the ringleader in half with his bare hands.

[It would be easy. One hand on the back of the neck, one at the base of the spine. His boots were heavy, and if he planted a few strong kicks at the knuckles of a vertebrae he was pretty sure he could--]

It was a mountain of restraint that made him stoop instead to pick the ringleader up by the collar and slam him into the nearest wall. His head bounced against the bricks behind him and his breath whooshed out of his lungs, leaving him dazed and gasping while Helsknight leaned his full weight into him to pin him still. Not that he was going anywhere fast with a bad knee anyway.

"Talk," Helsknight growled, nearly nose to nose with the thug. "My friend. Where is he."

The thug whined, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted in pain. "I'm not-- I'm not telling you anything. Y-you're not that scary."

For a very brief moment, Helsknight was so angry he actually did see red. He pulled his gauntleted fist back, fully intent on putting a dent between the thugs eyes -- when Tango leaped up and grabbed his forearm in both hands, dragging it down again.

"Hey! Hermitcraft to Punchy McMurderface!" Tango shouted frantically, clinging to Helsknight's arm for dear life. "Don't do that!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Helsknight snarled, grinding his teeth.

"Because if he's concussed unconscious he can't answer your questions, skippy!" Tango snapped fearfully, flinching back as though he expected Helsknight to punch him instead.

Helsknight, who had been expecting a much more stupid excuse [Something like, "Oh no Helsknight, don't punch the bandit that's mean and icky!" maybe] was momentarily caught off guard by the logical answer. He stood there, glaring down at Tango, panting as the red tinge the world had taken on faded back a bit.

"I'm st-still not answering your stupid questions," the thug sputtered bravely. "If you th-think I'm going to betray my guild--"

Helsknight hissed a breath out through his teeth. He reached for his dagger at his hip-- and remembered he'd already thrown it.

"Besides!" The thug gasped fearfully, realizing, probably, what Helsknight was looking for. "Y-you're a knight right? You've gotta be! No run-of-the-mill gladiator swings a sword like that! Knights don't torture people! It's against your religion or some shit."

Helsknight, whose anger was boiling up his throat again, considered the implications of renouncing his knighthood for one afternoon. Less than an afternoon. Surely it wouldn't take more than an hour to break a few bones. His Saint could only damn him to a lesser ring of hell. Maybe if he explained it was for something very important when he went to confession--

Tango spoke first. "Yeah but, knights are the law, too, aren't they?"

The thug briefly stopped breathing.

"I mean, they're deputized, technically." Tango continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. Helsknight suspected it was so no one could see them shaking. "At least, that's how knights in my world work. And I haven't seen any cops around. So. He's the law right now. And I don't know a lot about hels law, but I know you cut people's hands off around here for stealing things."

Tango looked up at Helsknight. "What do you think, Killer? I mean, technically they stole a person, right?"

Helsknight, despite his current fury and desperation, and despite his fearsome reputation, and despite, even, his ugly thoughts of a few moments ago, was not a torturer. He had inflicted some terrible wounds on people before, some to the point of what he would call cruelty, but never had he drawn a weapon with the explicit aim of causing pain and suffering. It was a line he had never really dared to cross, barring a few very harrowing fights with Wels, when he had flirted with the idea of that danger and eventually stayed his hand. There were some things a man could not do without carving out pieces of his soul in the process, where the gap between thought and action was a chasm, and to cross it was to never return to safety again.

Helsknight searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to remove someone's hand to get information. He searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to torture someone to find out where Tanguish was. A very sick, cold, empty feeling opened up in the pit of Helsknight's stomach. When he looked to the thug again, he had scrubbed himself of anger, and adrenaline, and, he hoped, fear. His expression must have been truly grim, because he watched the thug's face pale fearfully, his pupils pinpricks in too-wide eyes.

Helsknight threw the thug to the ground, forcing Tango to stumble back a few steps to get out of the way. His boot came down on the thug's shoulder, pinning him against the cobblestones. Panicked hands scrabbled at his ankle, nails sliding off the metal of his grieve. Helsknight was reminded of a rat trying desperately to climb out of a well, drowning.

"Hold your arm out, and hold it still," Helsknight said, his voice deathly calm. He leaned more weight into his heel, eliciting a long whine of pain from his captive. "I would hate to miss your wrist, and take your arm off at the elbow instead."

The thug was clearly panicked. Helsknight honestly couldn't blame him. He was very close to panicking himself. He kept shoving his feelings down into that cold empty place in his stomach, and replacing them with the mask he wore when he played the villain in the Colosseum. He quietly, forcefully, informed himself that this was a role he was playing, and like every role, he would play it very well. And then the performance would be over, and he could feel feelings about it then. After the screaming had stopped, and the blood had dried.

Tango had turned his back to him, his hands clasped over his ears. He did not run away. He did not leave. It was a show of solidarity Helsknight neither wanted nor expected, but found himself grateful for anyway.

"Last chance," Helsknight said. He lifted his sword, ready to plunge it down into the outstretched arm. He thought, in the detached way of the horrified, that if he could catch the tip of his sword between the bones of the wrist, that might be the fastest way to... To...

The thug closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Helsknight let out a long, slow breath. He drove the sword down. The thug screamed. The blade cracked against the cobblestones.

There was no blood. There was no dismemberment. The thug had pulled his arm away at the last moment, and clung to Helsknight's boot with both hands, shrieking. Helsknight's ears were buzzing. He couldn't hear what the thug was saying. His heart was racing, and his mind was so terribly, terribly empty. He felt... Numb. It was very hard to keep his sword in his hands.

A hand tapped gently on his arm. Helsknight blinked down at Tango, feeling vaguely like someone was waking him from a nightmare.

"Let me go!" The thug was yelling, scrabbling with renewed vigor against Helsknight's boot. "I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"

"Did you... Catch all that?" Helsknight asked, trying desperately to pluck coherent thoughts from the droning emptiness in his head.

"Sure thing."

[Ah... Good.]

Tango kicked his boot against the thug's side, more a nudge than anything. "Alright. We're going to let you go. Tell your guild boss or whatever that we'll be outside his place tomorrow at noon. Be ready to negotiate or -- uh -- be ready to get dead, I guess."

It was not a threat that would go down in the annuls of history as a great villain monologue, but the thug, shaking and terrified and in pain, took it deadly serious. Helsknight released him, and he hobbled away down the road as fast as he could on a bad leg. They watched him in silence until he disappeared down a side alley, leaving them in an empty street scattered in left over items from the other fallen thugs.

"Tomorrow?" Helsknight asked, his voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

"Today," Tango answered. "Telling them tomorrow makes them think they have time to prepare, and if they're preparing, they're not, you know, hurting Tanguish."

"Ah."

"You alright?" Tango squinted up at him. "You look like you're in shock."

"Mh." Helsknight dropped his gaze to the ground. His dagger had been left behind. He took a step forward... and sank to the ground.

"Woah! Hey, hey! Easy big guy--"

Helsknight found himself on his hands and knees, shaking, smothering under the weight of guilt and his own potential for horror. His head was buzzing again, a nauseating sound like the static of the void. His eyes found his dagger again, and he lunged for it. Moving on something between impulse and habit, driven by guilt and self-disgust, he ripped the blade across his wrist, spilling blood across the ground. With shaking hands he grabbed up his sword and set the tip against the cobblestones, his forehead pressed against the hilt, eyes screwed shut.

"Saint of Blood and Steel," Helsknight breathed, with all the desperation of a sinner crawling to an altar, "forgive me for what I would have done." He pressed his forehead so hard against the cold netherite of the hilt, it hurt. "Please, please, forgive me for what I would have done."

His nose stung with the smell of blood and metal and salt and sealing wax. His mouth tasted like bile, and he could feel every fluttering heartbeat in the cut on his wrist. The buzzing in his head, slowly, slowly, alongside the speed of his racing heart, ebbed. The animal panic curled up in his chest and grumbled as it started to ease itself to sleep. He realized someone was rubbing circles into his back, and whispering at him, and tugging at his hands.

Tango was not trying to be reassuring. At least, he wasn't trying to be reassuring so that Helsknight would be calm. He muttered things under his breath like, "Okay, easy now, no big deal, it's fine," and "Let it go. Nice and easy. Good knight. Scary knight..." The circles he rubbed into Helsknight's back were shaky and awkward, and very clearly a distraction for his other hand, which worked on uncurling Helsknight's fingers from the knife. Helsknight, his exhausted wits finally returning, had mercy on him and released it. Tango snatched up the knife like it were a snake he feared would bite someone. He grimaced at the blood on the blade, and, not knowing what else to do, wiped it off on Helsknight's cloak, before shoving the knife beside Tanguish's in his belt.

"So, just for establishing the rest of this afternoon," Tango said, when he realized Helsknight had come crawling out of his stupor. "Should I be worried about you hurting yourself randomly? Like, does this happen on a regular basis? Do you have triggers I should be making safe words for or--?"

"No." Helsknight said, trying not to feel ridiculous.

"Right. So that was just a one time thing? Because if it's not a one time thing, I'm not judging or anything. But, like, I might recommend seeing a hels therapist or something."

"No I--" Helsknight had no desire to explain that he had a Saint, and that Saint had tenets he'd sworn to, and he had been preparing to go smashing through them like a sledgehammer, mostly because she didn't want to admit it to himself either. He didn't want to admit that he had been on the verge of turning his back on everything that made him himself, because he was desperate and scared, and he didn't want to admit that if he wasn't a knight, he had no idea what he even was at all. Instead he fell back on what the thug had said, because it wasn't wholly true, but it also wasn't a lie. "Knight. Torture. Against my religion. Or. Whatever."

Helsknight leaned on his sword like it was his last hope of salvation.

"Very, very against my religion."

"R-right." Tango put on a complicated expression. The kind of expression one gives when they're realize they're walking on a minefield. "But. You know. You didn't actually torture anyone. Right? So. God can't be mad. So you don't have to slash your wrists for god, right?"

"I would have." Helsknight's eyes found a chipped cobblestone. "If he hadn't moved... I... Would have."

That feeling of frigid dread spidered it's way down his ribs again to pool in his stomach.

"Well. But. But. You didn't." Tango swallowed audibly. "You didn't. And that's what god cares about, right? And, even if god does care, you were following the letter of the law. And if god cares about that too. Uh. God. God can. Take it up? With me."

Helsknight barked a half-hearted laugh. "You going to defend my honor from god, Hermit?"

"Yes," Tango said uncomfortably. "Because I was the one who told you to do it. So. Double damn both of us, right?"

They looked at each other. They looked away from each other.

"Tanguish is going to kill us when he finds out what we did to find him," Helsknight said.

"I won't tell if you don't."

They looked at each other. Tango offered a hand to help Helsknight stand. When Helsknight took it, they grabbed each other's forearms, and it felt uncannily like a pact, or a promise.

"I won't tell if you don't," Helsknight murmured.

Helsknight sheathed his sword, and ran a hand through his hair, trying, with some success, to pull himself back together.

"We should... Get moving." Tango observed, looking up the street.

"I didn't hear a word he said."

"I've got it all up here buddy," Tango said, tapping the side of his head and offering a half-smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "So uh... You know anything about a Thief Guild?"