#he could not describe the pain besides it being one of the worst he’s ever felt .

[fllagellant]

Do You Know What Dry Socket Is?

Informational post about something a lot of people might be unaware of.

So, let’s say you loose a tooth. You fell and knock it out, maybe you pulled it at home for whatever reason. All that is important in this scenario is that you’ve lost a tooth outside of a dentist visit, so there is no field professional there to walk you through the healing process.

Now, how do you recover from this? Saltwater rinse, wad of cotton to help slow the bleeding, painkillers, eating soft foods. It stands to reason that, like any other recovery period that involves the mouth and teeth, you’d also need a straw. Makes sense, easier to get liquid into your mouth and you’ll have more control over where in your mouth it goes. Makes sense, right?

You are about to give yourself dry socket.

The main difference between most other well known recovery periods from a jaw / mouth injury, is that the act of sucking on a straw can dislodge the blood clot from your gums.

The reason is, for a few days, your blood clot is actually smaller than the hole left behind by the missing tooth. Gums do heal quicker than most other tissue on your body , so the opening will close to be smaller than the blood clot itself. But there is a period of time, the first few days of healing, that the blood clot is at a serious risk of coming loose or being dissolved away . This risk does not truly go away until healing is over , but the likelyhood slowly goes down.

This blood clot being removed will reveal the traumatized and damaged nerve + the jaw bone to the open . Unsurprisingly, this is extraordinary pain, that nothing can soothe. Any fluid gets into the wound ? Food particles ? You inhale / exhale too hard ? That nerve is going to Ache. Not to mention , you’ re at an even higher infection risk now .

And the things that can cause dry socket are so innocuous , that unless you know about the possibility , you may do these actions without thinking.

1) Straws ( and Sucking )

The pressure from drinking through a straw is enough to pull the blood clot from your gums . This pressure can be caused by anything that requires sucking , this includes smoking as well . Anything that requires a strong pull into your mouth to eat / ingest is exerting the same pull on your loose blood clot . If you suck on a straw now , you can feel the kind of pressure vacuum you make in your mouth . That pressure does not care about what it might cause to dislodge .

2) Spitting Out Blood

At least , for the first 24 hours . After 24 hours ( specifically , after your gums stop consistently bleeding ) and you start doing saltwater rinses , you’ re free to spit . But regardless , forceful spitting can do the exact same damage as drinking from a straw . It’ s the pressure and force you cause . When you do saltwater rinses , don’ t really swish. Tilt your head side to side and slowly push the water around . For the first 24 hours , you are encouraged to swallow blood instead of spitting , to avoid the risk of spitting out the start of a blood clot and prolonging the bleeding cycle . Keep in mind the nausea this can cause .

3) Alcohol and Hot Food/Liquid

Paring these together since they cause similar issues . Alcohol can melt a blood clot , and abundance of heat can increase blood flow too the clot . Both of these will cause the clot to dissolve or come loose , but cold food/drink is more recommended . Yes , cold can cause an ache if it manages to come into direct contact with the healing area , but it will not affect the blood clot as seriously as hot food/drink will . Room temperature is also okay for consumption.

4) Exercise

Light exercise is okay , but anything that ups your heart-rate is upping blood flow to your wound . Nothing strenuous, nothing that pushes endurance , nothing that you know will exhaust you . Even if you heart-rate jumps from something like chasing a cat down because they have something they shouldn’ t have can cause increased blood flow ( trust me , it felt like I was undergoing divine punishment because I stopped my cat from eating a tuff of dog hair . ) The sudden taste of blood is a warning to slow down what you’re doing .

While dry socket can heal on it’s own, the gums will cover the exposed bone regardless of if there’s a clot there or not, this pain is not something anyone deserves to struggle with . Once again , dealing with dry socket is dealing exposed bone and nerve .

Dentists are expensive , and if you cannot afford a dental visit after the loss of a tooth, I only want you to be aware of one of the more serious complications that come with such a thing happening . Everyone deserves to heal in comfort , and I only want people to have the best chance at having a complication free healing process .

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Cucking

Requested: No

Warnings: Cucking, Choking, Recording, Slight breeding kink in the first part but no parts are actually described, oral sex, gagging, strap ons (I don’t think I got everything)

Ghost

You were dying. You were sure of it. Everything was too much for you. Too bright, too loud, too sensitive. And much too full of the cock that was being bullied into you.

“Sweet thing. Too good to me.” Mace grumbles above you, his voice barely reaching your ears, cock drunk and barely able to think. “Gonna fuck you full. Make you walk around with my cum dripping out of you. All you’re good for. Or maybe I’ll just have Simon lick it out of you, yeah?”

You heard Ghost growl at that but it had no real bite, not when he was only half listening to him, too focused on fucking his own hand, eyes locked onto your face, so expressive and dazed as Mace’s skin slaps against yours harshly, loud in his ears. Ruining you.

“Gonna give you a baby. Little piece of me to make sure you and Simon always know you’re mine now. Make him raise my baby, never letting him forget that I fucked you so good that I ruined you for him.” Mace told you before lifting his mask just enough so that he could bite deep into your shoulder, deep enough that skin caved under the pressure and blood flooded his mouth. Sure to leave a nice little scar.

Soap

“That’s it, Love. Taste so good.” Ghost groans against you, hands roughly spreading your cheeks as he gives you another long lick. “Bet Johnny doesn’t make you feel this good. Does he?” He asks, digging his nails into your ass and dragging them down your thighs, scraping open your skin.

You don’t respond, face down in the pillow, drooling over the case. Ghost grunts in annoyance at your lack of answer, flipping you over and slapping your face lightly than gripping your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes for a moment before turning you to the camera.

“Tell him, Love. Tell Johnny that I make you feel better than he ever could.” Ghost tells you, voice practically a growl. “Tell him that you’re mine. That I fuck you perfectly.”

You moan, teary eyes connecting with the flare of the lens, able to see your reflection in the little panel connected to it. “I-I belong to Ghost.” You start slowly, biting into your lip before he lays a harsh smack to your thigh, forcing the rest of the words out of your mouth. “I’m his and he fucks me better then you!”

König

“You’re hurting them.” König whimpered, soft and submissive, face flushed a bright red as he lay underneath you, your hands on his chest for some kind of balance, nails digging into his skin.

“Hmmm? They take you. I doubt I could hurt them if I tried.” Horangi grumbled, hot tongue licking a stripe up your neck, a sheen of wetness left on your skin. “Besides, I thought I told you to just shut your mouth and watch.” He says, brown eyes narrowing at him from over your shoulder.

König pursed his lips, looking between his teammate and your blissed out face. In truth you definitely weren’t in any pain but he was. Your soft belly was rubbing against his cock, teasing him in all the worst ways, leaving him pent up and frustrated, making him want to tear up from the denial. Especially since his hands were tied to the headboard, leaning him unable to reach down and fix his problem himself.

“Sweet *고양이. I know you best, huh? Pathetic Little *왕자 thinks he knows better than me but we both know he doesn’t. That’s why I get to fuck you while he gets nothing.” Horangi pants, his hand on your throat, the other on your hip.

Alejandro

“Look how he’s fighting, Cariño.” Valeria purrs in your ear, her callused hands on your chest, pinching your sore nipples. “He wants to be inside you so badly. Thinks you belong to him. But you don’t, do you? You belong to me now. All mine. Mi Cariño.”

You nodded, so fast and eager that it made her laugh, her breath hot against the skin of your neck. You took pride in the fact that she was pleased with you.

“Goooood. So good.” She says, lifting a hand to turn your chin, making you look at Alejandro. Tied to a chair with your panties stuffed into his mouth to gag him, his pants pulled to his knees so his hard aching cock was on full display, leaking precum at the sight of you being fucked so well on Valeria’s strap-on. “Tell him. Tell him you’re mine.”

“I-I’m Valeria’s.” You moan, squealing loudly when she gives you a particularly hard thrust as a reward. Your eyes rolled back into your head, drooling just a bit as Alejandro glared at Valeria, shouting obscenities through his makeshift gag.

*고양이 = Cat

*왕자 = Prince

[composing-birdsong]

You stare ahead at your sparrow as he realises who the canary he had seen was, and you feel like the world whispered the name no actor would want to hear right into your ears.

Any second now, the disappointment, the anger, all of the pain your sparrow had felt, would be thrown and directed at you in a dramatic scene.

And you had to brace yourself, because you couldn’t let him see how much that would hurt.

You could not let anything you did not want to be seen bleed past your mask. Even if what you kept away turned to eat you alive (dead? what was the right word to describe your state?), once it realised it couldn’t get out through any other way.

In truth, you had always just wanted to help. You had never wanted to hurt your sparrow, or at least you think you hadn’t.

The way your own mind worked had long since stopped being relevant to you. You knew how to make other people’s minds work in a way you needed them to, and that was enough. And you only ever used that to help. You just wanted to help.

You kept him from the truth for now because you knew it would hurt him. Once you had led him to ensure this world, this fake world Your Past couldn’t see they were slowly losing control of, wasn’t any danger to reality, then you could bring him to the son he wanted to see. But it would be dangerous to let him get hurt before this world was stable, so you lied. 

And besides, They always want a happy ending. That’s what They told you, when you found out about the true nature of this reality you were supposed to have such a high level of control over. They wanted that dramatic reunion, a wonderful scene full of emotions. And you wanted to please Them, to feed them before they fed on you.

So you lied. You lied because it made the performance and the story all the better.

But you’ve never been able to plan that far ahead, only seeing what’s happening in the moment.

You weren’t prepared for your lies to come crashing down on you.

This is Your Future’s doing, and you know it is. Static as uncaring as they pretend to be, they’ve always been a cunning creature. Despite their frail nature, they’re even better at directing an actor than you are at times. They knew that it the little canary found your sparrow, your play would fall apart, and their webs of strings would reign supreme.

They don’t even know what you know. You are the only one to know Them. And yet Your Future so easily stopped the script you were writing in its tracks.

 And now you were left to deal with the fallout, as your sparrow turned back to face you.

He takes off his mask, the one you gave him to more easily guide him, and you suppress a wince. 

Of the three of You, you’ve always been the most sociable. Through all the times you’ve split off to go interact with the world, you’ve learnt a lot about how the people of your reality, the one You all helped create along with the other deities. You’ve fallen in love with how they move, how they interact with each other, and what they create. They’re always moving towards the next moment in a way that enthrals you. Even when they wither and die, like they’re all destined to do, they’re so unique in how they do it.

But the one part you hate is their anger. Even when you were yourself and only you, it was always the worst feeling. To have scorn directed towards you made you feel sick, it made you want to tear off your own skin until you were absolutely nothing at all.

You never learnt how to deal with it, not properly. You could keep pretending it was fine, that it didn’t bother you, just until you could get away and be alone with the feelings of failure and anguish.

You do it now, just standing still as he sobs, as he screams at you. If you move, you’ll tear yourself into just the same state as him. Even if you can’t destroy yourself like you did as a person, you’ll try. You’ll keep trying until the horrible thing in your chest that spreads when you receive any anger, is finally gone.

Your little sparrow is so angry with you, and though a small part of you wants to comfort him, you don’t. This is a fine performance, you suppose. It will feed Them. And then, after he’s finished and you’ve had your time to want to rip yourself into shreds, you’ll improvise. You’ll keep going until the play’s over, and then you’ll go into your next performance.

It’s the best you can do. Maybe you won’t get to your intended ending, but if your sparrow lets you then you can get him a happy one.

You just have to keep acting.

[therewasatale]

your true color (Part 2)

Part 2 : cursed sister

On Ao3.

Summary: Geoffrey goes to the cemetery at the worst time.

Part 1 Part 3

Among the many thoughts that swirled in Geoffrey, he could deal with only one right now: How in God's name did he end up here like this?

With two deep gash on his calves, sitting in a slowly growing pool of blood, in the middle of the cemetery. Leeches fought over something he didn't have anything to do with.

As he glanced up he caught Reid's eyes for a second, before the doctor tried to dodge another attack. He fought for his life, and probably his own sanity.

Geoffrey clenched his fist even harder, nails digging into his skin. He had his own fight for his consciousness.

Hours earlier

McCullum wiped the blood from the end of his knife and then hid the weapon deep in his coat. His prey got away, but at least he was able to save the kid.

"Are you all right?" He stepped out from the shadows and went to the trembling youth.

He didn't answer him first, not even when the hunter stopped right in front of him.

McCullum wasn't any doctor, but he recognized the signs of shock. So he did what he thought was best.

He took out his flat bottle and rolled off the cap and handed it to the boy, helping him to hold it. "Drink." He ordered, making the boy shiver. Geoffrey didn't like to do this, but he had to make sure that he was listening and did as he was told.

After two sips, the dry whiskey had its effect. The younger man shuddered fighting of the shock and slowly blinked up at the hunter. "What-"

"You shouldn't wander around this late."

"I know," he swallowed, "sir. I just wanted to-" he stopped and stared in front of him. What did he want to do exactly?

"Go home. That's what you wanted to do. Come, I walk you until it's safe." The less he remembered the better. He was lucky that Geoffrey was around.

If he wouldn't see the leech with the kid… It was better not to think about it.

The poor lad will probably have some nightmares. He knew it from experience that even if a person was able to wake up or break out of a leech’s mesmerize; he was still not free from the dreams with the bloodsucker. A kind of imprint remained in their minds, it cannot be explained or comprehended and the more foolish one starts to search for meaning.

"Yes, thank you, sir." He didn't look at him, keeping his head down as he walked beside McCullum.

As they made their way; Geoffrey listened to the noises around them. His shoulder still burned after that punch, and he will have to clean his cut on his arm. For the time being the pain from these were dulled thanks to the adrenaline. Beside those, a long night was in front of him. He had to get to Whitechapel and then to the cemetery.

For some unknown reasons, that night, when he almost ended up fighting with Reid, it kept him awake. Something in the doctor's eyes made him curios and uneasy. He wanted to have answers. So, he did what his instinct told him.

It didn't take him long to find the hunters who chased the vampire all the way from the Docks. He started to ask the questions, even when his men gave him an odd look.

And the answers were, well, unexpected.

Most of them described Reid as weak, confused, and one of them even said he looked like the most scared vampire he ever met. The vampire didn't even try to attack him, only asked for help. But of course, it was only a play, a trap, they said. After all, all of them were just monsters inside.

After that Geoffrey decided to go on a patrol. Alone.

He didn't like the idea Reid being scared to death after being turned, left alone and hunted down by his men. It could have been a hell of a night, but he didn't kill anyone. Every Priwen knew the easiest target was a new-born leech, they couldn't control their powers, and they were most likely to run into a trap. But, it was a truly rare occasion; to find a new-born.

Still, there was an another question to be answered. The woman at Docks. The doctor's first and probably last victim so far. It didn't take him long to find the name.

Mary Reid.

And again, the hunter chose to patrol alone. And with that he found the boy being led away to get consumed by a leech.

Geoffrey was proud of his strength; he was capable to fight with a vampire on one on one. He was one of the best hunters amongst the Priwen. But for some reason, anger rose inside of him. The same anger that he felt when he killed his brother.

It wasn't fair. Good people suffering because of those monsters.

He took out a cigar and stopped as he realized they reached the Docs.

"Go home, or find a shelter."

"I will, thank you." The kid slowly nodded, he didn't raise his eyes from the ground. "What-, what is-"

"McCullum. Geoffrey McCullum. What's yours?"

"Rufus Kingsberry, sir."

"Have a peaceful night, Rufus." He slowly sucked in the bitter smoke.

"Thank you, you too, Mr.McCullum." The young man watched as the man faded into the shadows. He reminded him something he felt was important, but he couldn't put a finger on it. So he quickly made his way to Mrs. Fishburn.

The fog drifted lazily along the streets of London, stretching towards the gutters. Shadows moved in depth of the mist and Geoffrey listened the noises lurking nearby. Skals were prowling around the cemetery.

Priwen usually approached this area only as a group. If he got into a fight, he couldn't count on anyone.

He made his way slowly up the stairs, careful not to make even the slightest noise. Sometimes he glanced towards the silent graves, sometimes familiar names looked back at him. Somewhere in the bushes, a rat rustled and then skittered away, looking for food or shelter for the night.

As he walked deep inside the cemetery the name came back to him over and over again.

Mary Reid.

He learned about her life, but he only found loss and pain. And now her past found a space deep inside his soul, and he felt as if he had looked into something that he wasn't supposed to.

A woman who lost her father, husband, child, and finally her brother. She didn't deserve to die. She just wanted to bury her brother, so she and her mother could finally mourn.

McCullum once again felt the dark bitterness in his soul, he tried to suppress it every single time. His anxiety born from his own past which he tried to overcome. The anger he used in every single hunt. And there was that dull grief that gripped him after the fight was done, when he only had a whiskey for company. Losing people; he fought with side by side, those he tried to save but failed, and those who got turned against their will.

Yes, he had to deal with a lot of monsters, and then with the anger and guilt. For now, however, he somehow started to understand what he saw in the doctor's eyes that night.

The fog seemed to disperse step by step as he reached the higher parts of the cemetery.

His skin tingled, he felt like hundreds of eyes were watching him. It was only the rats, he told himself as he hurried up to gate. He had a knife and his crossbow on himself. And, just to be sure, an extra pocket knife hid inside his sleeve.

As he got closer, the knot in his stomach tightened.

There was no reason for him to be here. And yet, something, deep inside of him, told him to get here. To visit her grave.

His footsteps slowed down as he stared for a couple seconds to the empty grave. He failed to hear the steps behind him. The hit came from nowhere and forced him to his knees. The world tilted before his eyes and no matter how hard he tried to regain control over his body, he was too slow.

The vampire leaned over him, his arms were powerless on the ground.

"Look at that, what we got here! The Guard of Priwen if I'm not mistaken." Madness glinted in her eyes. "You shouldn't have come here."

"Let me go, leech." He snarled.

The wide grin made him shiver.

"No, I don't think I will. Hunter. You're the hunter who's hounding my dear precious brother."

"You-" McCullum stared at the vampire.

"Maybe it was God's work you are here right now." She cackled.

Geoffrey swallowed dryly, he couldn't do anything. If she wanted to, she could easily kill him. His fate was in her hands.

"Come, hunter. My little brother will be here soon."

The vampire raised her hand again, and the cold darkness swallowed Geoffrey.

[wittybibliophile]

HAPPY NOVEMBER!!

Hello my lovelies!!! Another month starts and the big fat quote for our big stomachs... 😂Well this is from the first book of dirty air series... Noah had bad parents, neglectfully selfish mother and very much punishable father... so today we see a scene, noah talking to his mother who called again for just VIP tickets for the grand race. "Everytime my mom asks for tickets. I get them. In the whole scheme of things, i never thought to say no because it was easy to do, Easy to give in to my toxic parents. Simple to not put up a fight, not wanting to make waves like my dad despite how sick it made me feel to be used over and over again. *On Call* I hate every second of this call, of the battle waging inside of me to not hang up the phone. But i want to show myself why i need to let go. Why i can't fall back into a damaging relationship with my parents because their love is conditional. And if i learned one thing in therapy, besides the fact that crying makes my face puffy as fuck, is how love doesn't come with conditions. No ifs, ands, or buts. It should make you a better person not because you have to be, but because you want to be. Noah's Mom: "Clarissa (her friend) is asking if you could also access some VIP passes for the afterparty? We personally like the one with the champagne company, but we aren't against others". Looks like she can produce more than three words at a time. But like a gumball machine she only works when you put money in her. " you know i don't think this is going to work" Time to rip of the band-aid. Because why the fuck not, with everything else in the Slade family is going to shit. She sighs " what do you mean?" "You, me and your ex-lover Nicholas. The whole thing. I can't do this to myself anymore, trying to be a son i thought both of you wanted. Instead you only contact me when convenient. And shockingly you withheld your one-step user card for the whole year until now. But in case you didn't know, I got into the worst crash of my career two weeks ago. And how many times did you call on me to check? None. Hell, how many times have you called me this whole season? Besides the one misdial?" She's silent, not speaking a word. " I appreciate you for giving birth to me, for being whatever you tried to be. But it's over. You should have protected me from him. The first time he hit me, you walked away because you didn't want to threaten your allowance. Time and time again, you let me down. So, by all means, let it be my turn. I can't get you tickets. Not now. Not next year. Not ever again. If you have an interest in calling me to get to know me as a person, let me know. If not, have a good life". I wait holding the phone to my ear, willing her to say anything. Closure is a funny concept. Everyone talks about how cathartic it feels, but no one describes the pain you experience before. The courage needed to push through tough situations. How much it rips a person up to know why they need to let go, not because they want to, but because they have to. My whole life, i lived chasing an unattainable prize of my parent's love. I sped down racetracks and life, willing it to go faster, but now i want to slow down. Enjoy the moments with people who matter, who want to remember my birthday, or who know five facts about me that can't be googled. The dial tone greets me. I clutch my phone, my lungs taking in the fresh air. For once, i have no ill will toward her, only wishing her the best. Everything falls into place. My therapist said i needed to face my past to embrace my future. Looks like i went to hell and back, scoring an angel along the way" - Throttled (Lauren Asher) *Sometimes we need to see what's not okay! And sometimes we may need help too to see it. But we need to accept it and go through it all alone by ourselves. And from this book i've learned that the people we leave behind are there because they need to be there and not in our lives. Hope everyone can see and deal with the negatives in their lives. Xoxo, Ironically Witty!

[madchild-dennis]

A DUPPY Story.

I've heard so many different people tell duppy (ghost) stories since I was a child. I've ALWAYS wanted to see one. Well it seem today was the day for me.

Before we go into the story, I will share the reality of what a duppy/ghost really is. First of all, they are REAL. However they are NOT what most people think they are. People refer to duppy/ghost as the soul of the person who died. Whether it's a soul that won't go to heaven so stuck on earth. Or in transition to heaven. Or in transition to the afterlife. Whatever theory other than being the evil spirit/demon that possessed the living being before they died, is WRONG. After hearing all the duppy stories, reasoning and more. There is nothing else than that. Because if it was the soul of the dead who isn't rested or whatever else. Why haven't we seen the duppy of Adam or Eve, Cain, Noah, Delilah, Jezebel? What about Hitler's ghost? Or the Ghost of Caesar? Almost ALL the duppy stories I've heard (except a few) are of people who were mean, evil or wicked. The exception weren't of people who were kind, nice or philanthropist or such. Just of regular people. What the people see as Ghost/duppy are the evil spirit/demon still take the form of the being that hosted it before it find another being to possess. Not all demons/evil spirit cause the host to do a lot of wicked thing. The evil could be subtle or in a different form. Therefore all DUPPY/Ghost is a DEMON.

Before today, I have NEVER seen a duppy, the way people normally describe them; a dead person knew/saw before when they were alive then coming back and being around the living after being DEAD. Seeing these duppies while the person is awake and eyes wide open. I never had that before today. I have had demons attack me. Even at the nursing home. Like one time, I was falling asleep and I felt, then saw 2 people. A nurse/someone dressed in all white like a nurse and a man in black shirt with a white coca-cola bottle in the middle, holding me down. I did not see the faces nor recognize the beings. I fought out the grip, then I woke up. The nurse I mentioned here came and helped me:

source:

Other than that or other stories, I NEVER saw a duppy of a person I knew before. Nor have I seen one in the daylight and while awake.

TODAY I DID.

It's interesting because I was coming from the supermarket after eating and doing some Spanish practice. I burst the corner and right beside me stood the duppy, or demon, in a white shit and I think a black hat. I wasn't even frightened, but I was taken aback. I almost forgot something I was supposed to buy somewhere else. Then when I went into a different supermarket the demon stood in the same place. While I was cashing out and still the demon kept standing there and looking towards the supermarket I was in from across the street. Yes, at the same spot I first saw it. I had planned from the start to go to that supermarket for what I wanted that it stared at from across the street in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

I ain't afraid of no fucking demon. Especially if it came for me. Especially THAT DEMON. The host of that demon was the worst shit, to me. When he was alive he caused the most emotional pain I've ever felt in my short life. I am GLAD he is DEAD. The fuck I am going to continue to make that demon come after me after he's DEAD.

I've learned from other demonic attacks that tried to strike fear into me, when I first left the nursing home. I used my anointed olive oil and sprinkle it all over the house. They never try me again afterward. Plus I walk with that olive oil with me everywhere I go. So I am READY. PLUS, I am also PREPARED to slit throats, stab a motherfucker or such. So if that demon want to take it from the spiritual (which he will loose in) and take it to the physical, I am ALWAYS READY.

I AIN'T AFRAID, I'M READY & AIN'T PLAYING

[blessedchaosgod]

An excerpt from a book I'll never write

“Au Revoir… Mi Amor?” Lee put her head in her hands, “That’s not french. It’s Spanish”

Will beside her chuckled and kissed her cheek lightly, “You’ll get the hang of it”

The couple were sitting on the edge of the lake in the dark. Fireflies and stars illuminated the dark. There was a pleasant breeze and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

“You have too much faith in me,” Lee said, smiling, despite her words. 

“You have such talents, Lee. You can do anything. I know it” Will said.

Lee raised her eyebrows. She remembered him telling her about how he can see the future. She wondered if he could see hers now.

“Do many people ask you to tell their fortune?” she asked.

WIll looked at her a moment, “Yes, they seem to quite enjoy it. Do you want to know yours?”

Lee looked out at the ripples in the water. “No” she said, “You know how I hate prophecies? The only reason they are set into motion is because they are spoken. I think knowing our future dooms us, for better or worse.” Lee looked over at him. He was laying inches away.

She spoke softly, “How does it work? Do you just summon a vision?”

“Not really” he said, “Not unless I focus really hard and really want a vision in that moment. I don’t have many other talents.”

Lee laughed, “Of course you do.”

Will sat up on his elbow, smiling teasingly, “Yeah? Like what?”

Lee turned to face him, “Like being a cunning charmer”

Will came closer, “My sweet Jezebel, you are no less of an enchantress.”

Lee kissed him as the flustered look on his face remind for the rest of the night.

*  *

2 Years Later

Lot of stuff has gone down

When the knock came on her bedroom door, Lee was reading about the weapons she’d need for the war ahead. She quickly stuffed the books under her bed and opened the door.

Marcus, the family butler, was standing outside looking quite troubled. 

“Mr. Carter is here, Miss. Should I-”

“I will take care of it, Marcus, thank you” Lee started down the stairs with a sad sigh. 

The anxious butler followed, “Miss, perhaps you should-”

They reached the foyer. “I am in charge while mother and father are in London. I shall handle it.”

There was a tone of finality in her voice and he hesitantly bowed and left.

Lee walked into the parlor and made her way toward Will, who got up from his chair and bowed, “Ms. Hiran”, he said.

“Mr. Carter”, Lee followed.

She led him to the Ballroom. It was filled with odd furniture and rundown from disuse, but the room held precious memories. Will and Lee hiding, passing the time, playing games and occasionally stopping to kiss each other. No servants or people ever came here. It was perfect.

It had been a while since the two of them had come here. They faced each other.

This is the worst place to do this. Lee thought. But there was no turning back now.

Will smiled his soft smile, “Hey”. Some of her nerves seemed to calm down.

“Did you change your mind?” Will looked into her eyes, waiting for her answer.

She raised one hand and caressed his cheek gently, “I won’t. I can’t. We have to do this.”

Will took both her hands in his, “We can find a way to stay together. We can find a way. The war doesn’t have to break us.” 

Lee held back tears. What irony it was that a prophecy would break them apart. 

“If we don’t do this not then we will break us.”

Will could not describe the pain in his heart. He could not help but despise the world. All he could think about right now was the realization that this is the last time he would see her, feel her and the love between them. It felt like that love had grown spikes and was trying to break out of his heart at this moment. He swallowed his pain. “My Jezebel”, his voice broke.

Lee kissed him. A short, gentle kiss. 

“Au revoir”, she whispered, “Mi Amor” 

She pulled away. That was the last time Will Carter saw Lee Hiran.

Until 6th November, 1963, two years later.

The day he died.

Tell me if I should write more of this. It's fun. I hardly ever put down my fantasy stories into words. But this seems like a good place to start.

[isthishowyoumakeathrowaway]

Hello Joy and others.

This posts and the ones related to it brought up a lot for me. 

It was comforting to see how many other people were angered by what went down on Discord. I’m angered by it as well.

It brought me peace to hear you had made your own discord, and that you stood up for someone else.

I’ve spent literally an entire day writing this, and then sat on it. But it’s still bothering me. The thought that maybe some on out there could see my lingering pain and say, ‘that’s awful’, ‘that’s disturbing’, to hear that sentiment coming from somewhere besides my own head, is so appealing.

It’s been years, with conversations with two different therapists. I’ll go ahead and send what I’ve written to her, but we don’t meet for two weeks.

Clearly, I don’t know how to heal from this.

So...

Possibly the worst thing I ever witnessed go down on the internet:

Content Warning for: rape, institutionalization, disbelieving survivors, incest, and suicide

On an Ask A Manager Weekend Open Thread.

Oh my god, it’s Ask A Manager. It’s Ask A Manager. What the fuck?

As I remember the nicknames the two individuals went by I went back and googled for the Ask a Manager comment sections they were involved in. Unfortunately, the person I'm going to call "the Sister" has an extremely generic noun as a nickname so it was hard to sift through to find their comments. They also commented prolifically and casually (nothing wrong with that). 

The person I'm going to call "the Survivor", on the other hand, responded infrequently, and often to share specific difficult incidents that were happening in their life. In revisiting their contributions to the Ask A Manager comment, they at one point refer to themself as, "not a she". I couldn't find what pronouns they do use, so I'm going to go with "they / their / them". I've gone back and done the best I could to edit what I've written to align with this new information, I'm sorry if I missed anything.

The inciting incident was the Sister asking why people got upset when she mentioned her brother was institutionalized in casual conversation. 

The ​Survivor​ responded with:

Their experience

That many people are aware of the history of abuse in institutions even if they themselves have not been institutionalized

That someone she is speaking with may have been institutionalized, and even if they weren’t forcibly admitted or abused while there it could still bring up unpleasant memories for them

It is unexpected and unpleasant to hear of institutions in casual conversation

I ​think there was also more, specific advice around how to dodge​ casual questions about family if that’s more comfortable, and how to broach the topic with friends if it’s important to receive support for this aspect of her life.​ This was not out of line with other comment responses. It was more detailed, instead of a vague, 'institutionalization makes people uncomfortable' their comment described why it makes other people uncomfortable while also acknowledging there are circumstances where it is necessary, and validating the discomfort of feeling pressured to disclose the details of why it is necessary in the sister's specific case with her brother.

This​ reply triggered the sister​. ​She insisted that rape doesn’t happen ​'like that​' anymore and​ went on to accuse the Survivor of implying her brother was being raped in the institution.

I can not express how unhinged and out of left field this response was.

The ​Survivor explained ​they didn’t imply that and used the phrase, “don’t put words in my mouth.”

The sister then responded with, “He put other things in my mouth” and went on an EXTREMELY graphic rant about being sexually abused by her brother.

​She ended her comment by goading the Survivor ​into sharing details of their rape 'or else it didn't happen'.

​After someone else expressed that reading the graphic rant was triggering, Alison then stepped in to edit in a trigger warning to the top of the sister's comment.

​Aside from a bystander being triggered, I can’t remember if there was push back from others against the trauma dumping, manipulation, and outright stating the survivor was lying. I remember wanting to comment but having absolutely no idea what to say.​ If there was any push back, it was weak, ineffective, and probably more concerned with comforting the sister than reasserting civility.

The survivor asserted the boundary that ​they wweren't going to share details of her rape. ​They stated ​they w​ere​ ​'getting upset​' by the direction the conversation had turned, and that just because ​they weren't expressing ​their trauma in the same way the sister was doesn't mean it didn't happen​ to them. ​They also said ​they​ weren't  in a head space where ​they could read the entirety of the sister's comment, but that ​they w​ere very sorry that happened to her​ and that it was horrible.

The sister replied ​that the survivor couldn't be sorry for her if she hadn't read the​ graphic details.

I believe others called the survivor's response manipulative??? 

I ​don't know if the word 'bully' was used, but that was the direction of the unkind comments (which was all of them) against the survivor. The survivor asked for clarification, that they were confused and saddened. I think someone expressed doubt that ​they could really be triggered if ​they were still so composed.​ ​They said ​they didn't say ​they ​were triggered, ​and that while they were upset at someone else reading words into their comment they didn't actually say, they did agree at this point they probably were triggered, and stated they would log off for the day. Which to the best of my knowledge, they did.

This response was called manipulative or attention seeking, something like that. I thought it was a perfectly fine response that could end the conversation but others dunked on it, ​and dunked on it hard.

The vibes f​rom MULTIPLE PEOPLE, including Alison, was that the sister 'needed to be coddled' (not in those words, I think it was 'prioritized') as she had​ been the one to reached out and asked for help. 

​I thought it was​ extremely clear the sister's question had already been asked and answered. If the only comment with specific advice was responded to in this ​way then​ I thought it was obvious​e nothing good could come of the conversation, but this ​comment thread went on ​assuring the sister that the survivor was just a big, big meanie, until ​late Saturday evening.

Alison and the commenters thought the sister's emotions and needs came first. (I believe something close to those exact words were used.) But the sister wasn't encouraged to take a break and self care while multiple people told the survivor, in the harshest of terms, to log off. One person responded to every comment the survivor had already made with sentiments to that effect.

I don't remember the details ​about this next bit well. There was the one conversation I outlined above, ​they w​ere getting upset, ​they would log off, and ​they did. But while that conversation, which was the most coherent, and also wasn't edited by Alison later, was going down, there were at least four other people not including Alison or the sister who were going back and forth with the survivor. ​Those people then proceeded to chime in to each other's back and forth which made it the hugest biggest mess on the planet. 

Dog. Piling.

I was just overwhelmed with how unanimous and harsh the responses I could see were. ​(And oh boy, I was glad I hadn't chimed in earlier.)

From what I saw, the survivor remained composed and compassionate throughout​. ​It was so sickening to see people call that 'bullying', 'manipulative', 'inappropriate', and 'selfish and self-centered'. When pressed they mentioned viewing other's behavior through the lens of "trauma responses" and that's what helped them stay calm. I think that reply was called dismissive. 

At the same time, it seemed clear to me there were hurt and confused and were just reaching out to the people on the form they'd been friendly with for four years at that point. I just kept hearing, 'I don't understand, I don't understand'.

​Eventually, Alison ""banned"" the survivor from commenting​. ​Instead of responding to any of the survivor's comments to let ​them know​ this, ​Alison went in and deleted the contents of her comment and replaced it with a ban notice. 

Now, I don't know about you, but when I read forum comments I don't reread ones I've already read, and certainly not ones I have posted. I read the comments highlighted as new. I already was shocked and appalled by Alison's choices as moderator of that comment section, but the fact that this was how she handled ""banning"" someone from commenting was atrocious.​ Alison's comments, as the moderator of the thread, always show up completely highlighted in pale blue so they can't be missed. I still can't understand why Alison didn't use this tool to notify the Survivor of the ban.

Eventually someone told Alison she should​ actually respond directly to the person she was trying to ban and or just ban the survivors IP. When Alison did, the survivor had already stopped responding.

​Later, the sister then went in and responded to just about every single comment in the comment tangle​, even ones which were not directly about her, including the comments just telling the survivor she was a big, big meanie and needed to be silent, to thank you.

I don’t remember much of the back and forth​, it was extremely repetitive and horribly messy.

I kept thinking that if ​the survivor was having an obvious melt down after being told, "He put other things in my mouth" the winds might have blown the other way.​ But at this point, if they did have an obvious break down, it would be called manipulative (just like every other reply they made), they would have been criticized for not logging off earlier, and their emotional state would be blamed entirely on them and not on the massive and disturbing backlash she had received.

When I read the survivor​'s comments I saw pain and that ​they w​ere struggling with being triggered. It felt like everyone else saw a bully. But because ​they stayed composed, especially compared to the sister, I don’t think other people did. But maybe I'm just projecting?

So, the survivor had peace-d out at some point, not even noticing they had been banned. The​ next morning they came back to apologize with a new top level comment and share some details about their rape has had been requested, 'since it's important to you, I'm in a place to make myself vulnerable now, I'm sorry I wasn't able to earlier'. Something like that. 

They got screamed at by at least three different people that they had been banned. They were so confused, ​'No one told me I was banned, I don't know what you're talking about​?​'. People linked the comments of theirs Alison had deleted, they apologized. Again, multiple people responded to their apology for not noticing they were banned, reiterating that they were banned​, now they knew they were banned, they need to just stay silent and not apologize​, and how dare they not know this.

Alison deleted the text of ​their comment​s and replaced it with the same ban notice as before.

And no one cared that whether ​the Sister meant to or not, she weaponized graphic details of her trauma to manipulate friends to turn on someone else who was struggling.

The survivor had been active in the weekend forms off and on for a​t least four years at that point. I remember ​they were trying to sue a former employer for firing ​them for being disabled.  They were excited to be moving to a safer neighborhood.

​At the time, I checked in on the weekend threads for about three months after that name searching for her, but ​they never commented again. ​Honestly, I can’t blame ​them.

​I think about this incident every once and a while, when it floats into my head, it's the phrase, "He puts other things in my mouth" and I cringe or feel sick. Being reminded of it is so viscera​l. 

I look backed at the survivor's comments and people responded with them with support and kindness and advice while they struggled with their health and their unsafe apartment. At one point in the mess I outlined above, someone referenced the comments they made in the past and stated something to the effect of, 'I'm disappointed in you, this isn't the [nickname] I know.' I don't remember who that user was, had they responded with kindness in the past?

No one cared about the survivor, and no one cared about the people who might be lurking. This went down sometime in spring or summer of 2019. (Based on when the survivor stopped commenting.) It feels like it's been sitting with me, bursting forward in my brain at the most random moments, for longer than that.

 I typed all this out, then wondered if I could track down the comment thread (I couldn't Alison ended up nuking it that Saturday evening, it doesn't look like the survivor commented on anything else on the thread before all this went down, and the sister's username is too generic to pull it up, as are the keywords which possibly could have been in Alison's comment announcing the complete deleting of the incident.), and went ahead and skimmed the few comments I could find.

I've had pain in my heart regarding this for a long, long time. When I first saw it go down I did my best to describe it to my therapist. I've since switched therapist, and it came up again while working with her. But never have I sat down to go over beat by beat what I can remember, as organized as I can remember it. I've always glossed over it, trying to ex-spell the specifics which I thought were bothering me, to purge my emotions in regard to this horrible thing I witnessed. After all, it didn't effect me.

When I discussed it with my therapist, it was in the context of combating loneliness and building relationships as I struggle with my own disabilities which limit my ability to leave my house. The way Alison went about banning the survivor, then how other responded when the next morning when they tried to take accountability, apologize, make amends, and offer details of their rape to make peace, and the way that one person referenced the survivor's past participation in the community were all things I was trying to learn from and protect myself from.

Because I just couldn't imagine if that were me. I couldn't imagine being raped like that.

It wasn't until revisiting all this, just now, in full, that I had the thought, "what was that like for them"? I was so, so horrified for them, I knew it was wrong, I stopped reading Ask A Manager and have the keywords blacklisted. But it never went deeper than that.

 I can't remember, in the thread, if they had mentioned being hospitalized for suicidality of if my brain is just filling that in. I'm so upset for them. It's been years, I've had a handful of conversations about these incidents, and I'm so upset for them. I've never wondered until just now if maybe they aren't alive anymore, maybe because of this.

I get added to so many Discords with good intentions, but I always let people know I'm a disaster at keeping up because my time and energy are severely limited due to my health + ADHD.

I'm a chronic discord lurker. I'm always around, even if all I'm doing is reading. Unfortunately, I happened to read that one Discord tonight and felt compelled to interact. Like a moth to the flame lmao.

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Omg this is so fucking cute BUT just imagine cale having a small smile on his face once he gets to hold his baby and him just kissing them in the forehead😭😭💞

you guys,,, im gonna cry this is making me soft. idk how to describe labor and 'm too scared to look it up, so this is the best i could do. hope this doesnt dissapoint yall who actually knows about labor hehe.

also, hi!

haha, i got my shit together pretty quick since midterms are around the corner and i thought that it wouldn't be fair if i didn't give you guys something to enjoy before i get busy with my midterms :)

Cale doesn't know how exactly he should feel when your contractions started.

He had immediately rushed you into the room that had been prepared for delivery, him being the only one to be inside other than the midwives and doctors standing by in case something goes wrong -- he desperately hoped those doctors will not do anything here.

For the first few hours, your contractions had long intervals and it wasn't too painful. Cale stayed by your side during those times, holding your hand and brushing your hair to make sure you stayed calm.

"Wouldn't it be nice if they looked like you?" You mumbled, smiling at him so softly that had his heart clenching. You squeezed his hand. "I'd want them to have your hair. It's very pretty."

Cale lifted your hand, kissing the back of it affectionately. "What are you talking about? Yours are prettier."

The midwife and their assistants would sometimes glance at you and Cale, never thinking that they'd see the man so gentle and whisper so affectionately like that.

The man sat down on the chair beside the bed and hasn't moved for hours, holding your hand and brushing your hair.

It was easy to distract you from the pain for the first several hours. He'd talk to you and try his best to make sure you feel safe and calm, planting kisses on your cheeks and whispering encouraging words against your skin whenever the pain comes back.

When the intervals were getting shorter and shorter, Cale sat down on the bed beside you, leaning down so you could wrap an arm around him.

Your face was red and you were sweating as the pain began to overwhelm you. Your eyes were starting to go glossy and Cale brushed your hair. "Follow my breathing, [Name]."

He inhaled, watching you try your best to follow him. He exhaled and when you did the same, he smiled, caressing your cheek. You leaned to his hand with a pained look on your face which made Cale's heart clench. "It's okay, it's okay."

He kissed your temple before leaning his forehead to it. "Let's do it again. Breathe with me."

You threw your head back and closed your eyes, choosing to listen to his breathing instead of looking at him. Cale stared at you, wondering about the worst that could happen to you, but he immediately dismissed the thought.

You were in pain and all he could do was distract you from it the best he could. He does not have the time to think of the worst -- he does not have the time to think of the future. He needs to think about the present, the fact that you were in front of him and risking your life to make sure the proof of your love could live.

Even as you began to scream and were crying relentlessly, he tries to give you something that could release your pent-up emotions, which was his hand that you squeezed to the point he was sure was going to be broken. He could hear the ancient powers within him be anxious, voicing their concerns, but he ignored them all and focused on you.

All he could think during that moment was how he didn't want to see you be in pain like this ever again.

"Keep pushing, Madam!" The midwife exclaimed and Cale kissed your temple, hearing you let out a shilling scream that has his heart beating quickly as if it wanted to escape from the cages of his ribs.

'Shit,' Cale thought the moment his eyes felt hot. 'Shit, shit.'

He could feel his eyes starting to sting when you let out a scream. He could hear the door of the delivery room was budging but he ignored it. He couldn't imagine what kind of pain you were in because he had never heard you scream like this before.

He hates this.

He doesn't want to see this.

He hates seeing you like this.

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmured so affectionately to you, lips pressed against your temple. "It's okay, you're doing such a great job."

"C-Cale."

Cale closed his eyes when he heard you call for his name, voice strained and so weak. It's as if you were on your last breath and he hates it.

He hates this so much.

He doesn't think he can go through this a second time.

"I'm here, sweetheart." He kissed your temple again. "You're going to be okay."

He doesn't know how much time passed while hearing your screams and having to reassure you that you were doing an amazing job. He felt like it's been days -- he hasn't moved from his spot on the bed and he refused to do so if it wasn't needed.

When your screams died down and the sound that filled the room was the cries of a child, Cale still didn't turn his head. He didn't turn to see his first child getting wiped down and see how they look.

Instead, he looked at your pained face, seeing that despite the pain has lessened, you still looked like you were having trouble.

"S-she's still in pain," he told the doctor that has been standing by. "What's going on?"

"T-there's another one!" Announced one of the assistants of the midwife.

"T-twins?" You questioned, bleary-eyed and shocked. "We're having twins?"

Cale doesn't know what to do. Now the crying of his first child and your screaming filled the room, some of the assistants rushing to take care of the firstborn while the rest is helping the midwife.

'Damn it,' Cale thought, holding your hand tightly for his own sanity.

"One more time, [Name]." He pressed his lips to your cheeks which were wet tears. "You can do it. I'm here with you."

Somehow the second time felt even longer. It felt like an eternity to Cale who could only sit by you and watch.

When everything was over, you stared at Cale with bleary [e/c] eyes that have him squeezing your hand. The smile that you gave him when it was all over has his stomach turning over and chest squeezing -- your smile was so genuine and full of love, but he doesn't like that you could so easily smile after experiencing such a thing.

"We're having twins," you whispered to him, voice breaking down. Now you were crying for another reason. "Twins, Cale."

Cale stared at you and pressed his lips to your forehead, whispering. "You did such an amazing job. I'm so proud of you."

"Young Master Cale. Madam [Name]."

Cale finally moved, turning around to face the midwife who was holding a crying baby wrapped in a bundle of blankets, and beside her was her assistant who was holding another baby.

Cale moved so he could sit beside the pillows that were propping you up, watching with glossy eyes as the midwife approached the bed and handed you your firstborn while the assistant helped Cale to hold the secondborn.

"The firstborn is a boy," the midwife informed the two of you. "The secondborn is a girl."

Cale moved so he can show you the baby in his arm and your eyes widened.

"Oh."

You smiled at them, seeing the thin red hairs at the top of their head.

"Cale, darling," you called out for him, still crying and voice in a pitch. "They have your hair."

Cale stared at you for a moment. You were still sweaty, red-faced, and your face was still wet from crying, but you looked so happy and relieved. The smile on your face made the tension in his body slowly disappear and he realized something.

'I'm a father.'

The child in your arms and his were the children the both of you created out of love.

He's a father.

You're now a mother.

The two of you were parents.

'Shit,' Cale thought again as his vision began to get blurry, eyes glistening with tears. He leaned down, kissing your head. "I'm so proud of you."

He stared at the baby in his arms. A baby was this small? They were so light and frail, he was afraid if he moved a bit, the baby would feel pain, but seeing the smile on both the midwife and assistant expressions, he thought he must be doing great.

'How adorable,' he could hear the voice of Super Rock. 'They're going to grow to be wonderful people.'

'Your wife is amazing, Cale,' said the Fire of Destruction, sounding relieved.

'I'm glad she is fine,' added the thief, the Sound of The Wind and Cale could feel the smile she has on her face as she said that.

Cale used his other hand to reach out for the baby, caressing their cheek. They were warm.

Alive and well.

The baby leaned to his finger, seeking more warmth and Cale let out a sigh, his breath shaky as he whispered, "I'm so happy to finally see you."

The baby seemed to recognize his voice -- perhaps from him talking to them so many times when they were still in your womb -- and calmed down.

He leaned to you, showing your daughter to you while you were admiring your son. You turned to your daughter, smiling as you used your other hand to caress her cheek.

Cale watched you and the kids with a soft smile. He kissed your temple and leaned toward you, watching the babies sleep peacefully together.

As he stayed with you in this position, all he could think of how he was so glad he chose this life.

[httpdabi]

The Game

Genre: Smut

Summary: Playing a game made for couples with your best friend wasn’t such a bright idea. Or was it ?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors, leave me and my blog alone), spanking, mention of daddy kink, cream pie, rough, dom!Dabi, praising

,, Can you hurry up already ? ‘’ Touya yelled from the living room as you were getting ready. ,, We are only going to buy groceries, we ain’t going to Met Gala for fucks sake’’ he hissed, once he realised that you ain’t answering him.

,, Give me a second’’ you screamed, as you were putting on your mascara carefully.

,, I gave you a whole fucking hour, woman’’ Touya snapped back, rolling his eyes playfully. He had to stress around a bit. Thinking about it, the two of you looked like married couple, yet you were nothing more than two best friends and roommates.

Once you were done, you made your way toward the shopping center that wasn’t that far away from your apartment. There wasn’t any specific reason the two of you were going there, you only needed some groceries to get, and you could literally get that in the store near your apartment. But the two of you decided to go out a bit, since both of you were pretty much focused on the studies last few days.

You and Touya know each other since you were little kids. Your mother and Rei were childhood best friends, so you and Touya grew up together. It was one of those forced friendships, that would have some huge development later on. As you were getting older, you started realising that you actually liked spending your time with him.

,, I hate this.. When I have money, there is nothing nice to buy, but when I’m broke as fuck, every dress is looking beautiful’’ you rolled your eyes disappointedly. Every time you don’t have much money, the stores around are having such a beautiful collections.

Of course, being your best friend, Touya always bought you clothes you had your eyes on, as a small surprise after you had a long and hard day at uni. You really loved him. Not only because of that, but simply for being him. Everyone knew how damn grateful you were for having him and your life and you really never tried to hide that.

,, Let’s go see if they have some board games, maybe we can buy something and play tonight’’ Touya suggested, grabbing your hand as he took the lead. Every time Touya would hold your hand, your heart would skip a beat. Probably because of the fact that you had one big and fat crush on your best friend.

You were not sure when did it start. Maybe when he pierced his nose, or when people started thinking that the two of you are couple, or maybe the feeling was always there, but you kept it somewhere buried in your mind. Hiding it from everyone and especially from him.

,, Oh, I always wanted to play thing game’’ Touya said, holding a small, black package in his hands. You tried to grab it away from him, but unsuccessfully.

,, What is it ? Show me’’ You squeaked excitedly, hoping it’s something fun.

,, It’s Drunk in love’’ He said, waving the small package in the air. Confusion and jealousy washed over you as you looked at the back of the package. You’ve heard about that game, it’s one for couples.

,, Should we buy it ? I really want to play it’’ He asked. Only confusion was left in your body once he asked you that.

,, Isn’t that a game for couples ?’’ You asked him back.

,, Yeah, but it really isn’t something special, after all everyone is mistaking us for couple, so i don’t see a problem here’’ Touya said, winking at you. ,, Unless you are scared’’ he added fast. You knew that he was just trying to tease you a bit, it was how he always got things his way.

,, You know very well that I ain’t scared. But Touya, that’s not something we should play’’ you said honestly. Sure you would love to play that with him, but you didn’t know what kind of game that really is, so it gave you mixed feelings.

,, Trust me, the game is not a big deal. It’s just fun.’’ He said, looking down at you, hoping you’ll agree with his suggestion. ,, Trust me doll’’ he repeated, and the moment you let a deep breath out and rolled your eyes, Touya knew that he won, making his way to the cashier immediately.

,, Let’s buy something to drink at least’’ you said, hoping that the game won’t be so bad at the end.

,, We have to, it’s a drinking game anyway’’ Touya laughed, placing one arm around you, as the two of you walked to the store with alcohol.

The two of you bought a bottle of vodka, before you made your way home. Not wasting any time, Touya helped you put the groceries in the fridge, before he opened the small package. He took two small glasses for shots, and placed them beside the deck of cards that were already on the table in the living room.

You took two normal glasses and orange juice, in case the vodka might be too much. Touya was already waiting for you, searching for some music on YouTube, as he sat on the floor.

,,Here’’ Touya offered you a cigarette, once you sat on the other side, placing one pillow under your ass. You gladly accepted the cigarette, as you enjoyed the music he found.

The two of you drank few shots of vodka, before you started to play. You weren’t sure what to expect of that game, but if you were being honest, the alcohol was helping you, even tho it was just a little bit.

,, Imma go first’’ Touya said, taking one card. ,, Describe your worst hookup ever or drink’’ he read it out lout. Okay, that wasn’t something so bad, after all, you’ve already talked about it with him.

,, Ehh, that one time I slept with Kai.’’ You said rolling your eyes as you thought about it.

,,Ah, that time when you though he’s still fingering you ?’’ Touya asked, laughing a bit.

,, Yes Touya, his dick was that small’’ You laughed, feeling a little bit more comfy about the stupid game. ,, My turn’’ you added, taking one card.

,, Reveal your biggest sexual fantasy or drink’’ You read it excitedly, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

,, Yeah, no’’ Touya laughed, taking a shot without thinking twice, leaving you all disappointed. ,, Pull another one’’ Touya said, closing his eyes because of the strong taste of the alcohol.

,, Give your parter a piggy back ride around the room or drink’’ a big smile formed on your face as you read the sentence.

,, Easy peasy’’ Touya commented, standing up. The moment he turned around, giving you a sign to hop on his back, you did it. The two of you looked like children, running around the apartment like crazy.

,, Drink if you’ve ever faked an orgasm’’ Touya said, placing the card on the table. Of course you had to drink, thanking God you didn’t have to take a shot for every orgasm you faked.

Card after card, and shot after shot, the two of you were getting tipsier and the cards were getting spicier.

,, Blindfold your partner and make them guess which body part they’re touching or drink’’ Touya read the sentence, glad he was the one who found it first. ,, Yeah, you gonna chicken out ‘’ he teased.

,, Shut up and close your eyes’’ You said thinking about what part you should let him touch. Everything was way too easy to guess. At one point you were almost sure that there was a typo on the card, and that you should touch yourself and he should guess which part, but Touya was 100% sure that he was supposed to touch you.

Taking his hands, you decided that it would be the best if he would touch your collar and breast bones. At your surprise, he was tracing his fingers lightly over your skin, furrowing his eyebrows confusingly as he tried to understand what part of your body he’s touching.

,, Collarbones’’ He said opening his eyes immediately. ,, Ok, you’ve lost, drink’’ he commanded with a smirk on his face, as he took another card.

,, Take one article of clothing or drink’’ Touya placed the card on the table, leaning back onto the lower part of your couch. When he took of his shirt, showing of his perfectly toned body covered with various different tattoos, you realised that the card was referring to both of you. Since your shirt was a bit oversized, you decided to take of your pants.

Trying to ignore the small situation you found yourself in, you took another card fast.

,, Let your partner spank you or drink’’ you read it confusedly, trying to understand what the fuck is happening. Once you understood, you started shaking your head in disbelief, following with one loud laugh. What the fuck did you get yourself into ?

,, Come on doll, come to daddy ‘’ Touya joked, spreading his arms over the couch, as you took the shot of vodka anyway, before you made your way toward him.

Not giving you much time, Touya pulled you down, bending you over his lap. ,, You have no idea how much I wanted to do this’’ He confessed, as he pulled your shirt just enough to show your ass. You couldn’t even focus on his small confession, since you were trying to prepare yourself on the upcoming spanks.

Instead of spanking you, Touya decided to take his time with you, tracing his fingers over your hips and playing with the ends of your panties, pulling them up, forming a thong with them. You were glad that some alcohol was in your system, because you were pretty sure that sober you would never survive that.

,, Now doll, be a good girl and take every single spank for daddy’’ Touya whispered, before he connected his palm with your ass cheek, making you yelp in pain. With every spank he gave you, the pain was getting intenser. But you didn’t mind, after all, isn’t that what you wished for ?

,, Such a good Girl’’ He prised, caressing the red marks he left over your ass. Once you got back on the other side of the table, both you and him started laughing hysterically.

,, Lick your partner below the waist or finish your drink’’ Touya said, smirking widely once again. ,, There’s no way I’m finishing this drink’’ He added, grabbing your arm and pushing you toward him.Touya pushed up on the couch, as he started licking your legs slowly.

You couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening. Both of you half naked, playing some overly sexual game, which led him to licking your legs. You weren’t sure what was driving you more crazy, him licking your legs or his erection that was showing under his grey sweatpants.

Touya placed his hand on your tight, giving in one strong squeeze as he was placing wet kisses on your right inner tight. You could feel his lips getting closer and closer to your private parts, but you didn’t dare to say anything.

,, Wanna know what my fantasy is ?’’ Touya asked, kissing and biting onto the skin around your panties. All you could do is nod your head quietly, lost under his touch and soft kisses.

,, You, you are my biggest fantasy. I want to have you all for myself’’ Touya said hovering over you. ,, I want you to be mine’’ he added, looking you directly in the eyes, before he started leaving soft kisses all over your face.

,, Wanna be mine ? Just you and me doll’’ He asked, biting your lip.

,, Yes’’ You answered him so fast. Fuck yes you want to be his, He didn’t even have to ask you that, you were always his.

Once he heard you say that, Touya pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, letting his hard dick jump straight up. Not breaking the kiss, he started rubbing the tip of his dick around your entrance.

,, Doll, tell me if I’m too rought’’ He said, entering you slowly while he sucked onto your neck, leaving wet love bites. You couldn’t manage to give him a proper answer, hoping that simply nodding your head was understandable enough.

Once he was fully inside of you, he gave you some time to adjust to his size before he started rocking his hips into you. He wasn’t doing it slow, and the position you were in wasn’t the most comfortable one, but you didn’t care about that. All you could think of was the pleasure he was giving you at the moment, mixed with pain.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rammed into you recklessly, breathing into your neck as his moves were getting stronger and stronger.

,, So tight for me’’ Touya groaned, enjoying the warm feeling your walls were giving him. It felt like you were made just for him. Placing one hand on your hip, and other one on the edge of the couch, he increased his speed, fucking you stronger and deeper than before. With every move he made, he was hitting your g spot, making you moan louder and louder. You were pretty sure that your neighbours were able to hear the two of you, but none of you gave a single fuck.

Both of you were about to cum. His groans were getting louder, and he was fucking you ever harder, while your walls were getting tighter and tighter around him, making it even more enjoyable for him.

,, You can cum inside’’ You managed to say somehow, moaning his name and squeezing your eyes shut once you reached your high.

,, I was planning to ’’ He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, making it even better for you. After few thrusts, he spilled his seed deep into you. Moving few more times as he made sure to fill you nice and good, not wasting a single drop of his sperm. Once he was done, he collapsed on top of you, fighting for his breath.

,, I love you so much Doll’’ he said, connecting his lips with your own.

,, I love you too’’ You answered him, smiling widely into the kiss.

That night he took care of you, cleaning you, and taking you to his room, making sure that you are alright and that he didn’t hurt you. That night he made sure to clear some things out, he made sure that you wouldn’t think this was some sort of misunderstanding. Telling you how he actually always wanted to ask you out, and how that game was just a chance for him to get him where he is now. With you in his bed, locked between his arms.

That night you understood that your crush was never one sided, and that you were the reason why your best friend never dated anyone else.

Who would have thought that such a dirty game could bring people together ? Would lead them to confessing to each other. You sure didn’t think so, yet there you are, instead of daydreaming about it, you are enjoying the warmth of your best friend, roommate and lover.

[bluesest]

Can you write a story where a hot guy has the shits in front of his gay crush and is embarrassed but the crush loves it?

A Crush

Damian was a man of average height, average musculature, he thought he didn't stand out at all and felt very bad, until he met someone who changed his way of thinking, that person was Rohan.

Rohan was a kind and very beautiful man, he always liked to act in class, he was honest and outgoing, for that reason he could be seen surrounded by many people, in turn, many girls proposed to him and he always said no, but never He told them the reason, it was because he was gay, but he didn't want to admit it.

Damian first saw Rohan in freshman year of college, and immediately fell in love with him, in other words, Rohan was Damian's crush. Damian couldn't stop thinking about him and how handsome he looked, it seemed that every day he fell more in love with him, while Rohan didn't realize this. Several times Damian tried to start a conversation with him, but unfortunately they were poor conversations because there was not enough confidence to talk openly, in addition, Rohan spent all day with his group of friends, something that bothered Damian since he preferred being alone.

One day Damian found Rohan alone, eating in the cafeteria, he took advantage of this unique opportunity to start a conversation with him, Damian greeted him and said: "How are you not with your group?", Rohan replied: "Those idiots are trying to finish a project from 2 months ago in just 1 day", They both laughed and Damian with his tray of food sat next to Rohan, he maintained a calm posture but deep down he burst with joy to finally be alone with his crush. They were talking, both making an incredible effort to bring up the topic of conversation, at that moment, Damian felt a small tremor in his stomach, so that later he felt a small pressure in his anus, it was the recognizable sensation of air trying to come out of his rectum, Damian couldn't hold it in, so he prayed the fart wouldn't be heard or smelled, so while Rohan was talking, Damian released the gas. There is good news and bad news, the good news was that the fart was not heard, the bad news was that it smelled horrible. Damian tried to hide the smell with a spray bottle of alcohol, it helped to camouflage the smell a little, but it wasn't enough, although it wasn't necessary either because Rohan didn't seem to have heard or heard him.

As had been said, Rohan "seemed" not to have smelled the fart, something that was totally false, in reality, Rohan smelled it and it was the worst fart he had ever smelled in his life, it was quite disgusting and smelly, it could be described as the smell of an open drain, something that describes it quite well, because a few minutes after freeing himself, Damian felt another tremor in his much larger stomach, he wondered why he had so much gas, and then he remembered what he had eaten, asparagus salad, they cause him a lot of gas and he didn't remember it, maybe it was because of seeing Rohan sitting at a table alone. He tilted his butt a little on the chair to release the new pressure on his stomach, like last time, he waited until Rohan was talking to do so. Damian felt the gas move around his guts when suddenly, a painful tremor in his stomach forced him to hug his stomach with his arm, and then what had to happen happened, he farted long and silently, but he did it. What scared Damian the most was that the fart was liquid, when he stopped leaning, he could feel thick lava covering his butt, it was obvious, he had shit in his pants. Damian excused himself to Rohan and went to the university bathroom, meanwhile Rohan was no fool and could smell what had happened, the smell was worse than the previous one, besides the smell of a fart was different from the smell of diarrhea, so Rohan could guess what was happening and ran after Damian.

Rohan managed to reach the bathroom a few seconds after Damian, Rohan was surprised by the scene, Damian in his desperation took off his clothes before even reaching a cubicle, hearing that someone entered, Damian turned around and saw Rohan, Damian was completely naked from head to toe, his briefs covered in a liquid brown stain, all while Rohan saw Damian's small penis smeared with hot diarrhea. Both were shocked, Damian was the first to react and ran to the cubicle, then shouted: "Please, get out of here!", Rohan closed the bathroom so that no one else enters, and said: "Calm down, I don't have no problem with this", then Damian replied, "I don't want you to see me like this, just go away", Rohan pointed out saying, "Well, you'll need someone to get me an extra pair of pants". The bathroom was silent for a few moments until Damian said: "Well... But don't tell anyone about this!, and also cover your ears, (whispering) and your nose...", Rohan didn't answer and in Just a few seconds Rohan heard how Damian freed himself, it started with a loud and long fart, then a long and silent fart, it was the same as the one in the cafeteria, but this time the liquid from Damian's body would come out freely, then he heard how a stream of diarrhea collided with the water from the toilet, his farts looked like bombs falling into the sea, sometimes even the liquid stopped to make way for long and noisy wet farts, and then continued with another violent stream of shit, Damian moaned with satisfaction, while Rohan could only contain his as he touched his penis thinking about the disaster that was happening just a meter away from him. Things calmed down and Damian embarrassed asked Rohan to pass him toilet paper, since then their friendship was climbing until they became a couple.

PS: This story was thanks to a fan's concept, if you want a story, just write me your concept and I'll do my best to make it a story. I also wanted to say that the following posts will be about the special 100 followers

[alexlwrites]

Idol AU one-shot where soulmates can feel each other's pain after they... ahem ahem... make their bond official.

Cut to the boys leaving you, their soulmate, alone at home while you were having the Godzilla of periods, soon to find out the absolute shit of a mistake they made leaving the dorms that day.

I started writing these months ago and just found the doc... Should I finish it? Here's what i got:

---

Men are useless, you concluded while dragging yourself from the big kitchen to an even bigger living room, a blanket thrown around your shoulders and an ostensibly big tub of ice cream in your hands.

You had seven soulmates. Seven. Seven men who were supposed to be there for you and love you unconditionally. And yet not a single one of them managed to be home to support you while going through what could only be described as the world’s worst period.

You would’ve understood if it was a comeback week - having only officiated your soulmate bond a few weeks before, you had yet to experience those but you could only imagine how brutal they would be. But at that moment, their schedule was sparse and they still chose to spend their free time at the studio due to a burst of creativity on Yoongi’s part instead of staying with you in what you considered a desperate time of need.

One of them would do, you thought to yourself while you lied down on the sofa and turned on the TV. You didn’t need all seven of them to take care of you, although that was the ideal scenario. One of them to give you a back rub would suffice. A soothing hand placed on your lower abdomen would do. Instead, you had to resign to your hand pressing down on your skin and a marathon of couple goals videos on Youtube.

“Oh my god, imagine having an idol as your soulmate?” you mock exclaimed to the empty room “What a dream!” you waved the spoon at the couple with matching outfits on the screen “A dream, my ass. Gonna find myself another soulmate and then what? They are going to regret the day they left me home alone! I might even get a song after this…”

You mumbling was interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a notification from the group chat you had with the boys.

Yoongi [2:00pm]: hey babe, are you feeling any better?

You [2:01pm]: I hope you lost all inspiration and I hope all your verses only rhyme with the word “farts”

Seokjin [2:02pm]: quick game change a word in a song title for “farts”

Jungkook [2:02pm]: war of farts

Seokjin [2:03pm]: magic farts

You [2:04pm]: seokjin farts

Seokjin [2:04pm]: okay your judgement is clouded by anger so I’m gonna let that one slide

You [2:04pm]: your face is clouded by anger

Seokjin [2:05pm]: that doesn’t even make sense. Cmon honey you cant be that mad

You [2:05pm]: yes i can im cutting the nipples out of all your shirts fuck off

[Y/N left the chat]

You were aware that you were being the slightest bit unreasonable. But your awareness did not mean you cared, so you threw your phone back onto the couch, screen down you wouldn’t see any upcoming massages. Curling into a ball, you felt the pain on you lower back fluctuate between bearable and absurd as you allowed yourself a moment of self pity and loneliness.

---

“We’re fucked” Yoogi announced to the room, Seokjin wincing by his side.

When they left earlier in the morning, they didn’t think you would be upset. Generally speaking, you were very understanding and reasonable, always sending them off to work with a kiss and a smile, always being there to comfort them when they came home exhausted. They should’ve known today was not going to be like that when you woke up with a scowl, hands clutching your tummy as you made your way to the kitchen to inhale an atrocious amount of food. When you didn’t say good morning, just sighed a breathless “yeah” when Jimin asked if you were okay.

They should’ve known you would be upset when they started getting ready and you looked up with big, glassy eyes and asked why they were leaving. Yoongi explained how they had some recordings to do and your bottom lip started trembling.

“Can’t you stay with me just for today? Please?” you begged, but they were already half the door, too focused on their obligations as artists and not enough on their duties as soulmates.

“Sorry, baby. We’ll be home later, okay?”

They should’ve known they were fucked when you frowned, eyes quickly becoming stormy as you dodged Taehyung’s kiss. “Whatever” you murmured, walking back into the bedroom and slamming the door.

There was no explanation for how oblivious they were to your state when you made your discountent clear as day, so there was no one to blame for the unsettling feeling of guilt they shared but themselves.

“Do you think she’s really mad?” Jungkook asked, nervously biting his nails.

“Maybe she’s just joking?” added Jimin, ever the hopeful.

Taehyung shook his head “She seemed really off this morning, I don’t think she’s joking” he said, still upset about how you stepped away from him.

Hoseok stood up, clapping his hands together as he started giving out orders “Well, then let’s wrap up as quick as possible so we can go home and try to save the situation as best as we c-WOAH”

Suddenly he was on his knees, clutching his stomach like his life depended on it. “Hobi!” Namjoon called, quickly kneeling beside his friend “Are you okay?”

“No!” wailed the other “What the hell is going on?”

Yoongi got up to call a staff member when his body decided to rebel against him, sending him stumbling back his steps back onto his chair, his abdomen on fire “Ow, ow, ow, what is this? What’s going on?”

One by one, the member started to feel it, an insistent pressure on their just under the bellybutton that expanded to their lower back. It didn’t give, simultaneously feeling like someone was pressing down on them or something was clawing its way out.

[bizarrebaby]

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were. 

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort. 

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter. 

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did. 

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession. 

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding. 

All words that had never been used to describe him. 

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself. 

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.” 

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder. 

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before. 

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you. 

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad. 

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit. 

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe. 

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are. 

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing. 

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different. 

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction. 

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling. 

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth. 

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?” 

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat. 

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all. 

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave. 

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it. 

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.  

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze. 

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now. 

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take. 

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily. 

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first​

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Pt. 2

You could read this as a stand-alone fic, but there’s some more context of the situation on the first one.

Usertags: @fandomtrashgoddess

Synopsis: Some fluff/hurt slash comfort after and escape attempt. tw:kidnapping (implied) tw:physical abuse (implied)

             You sat on in the bathtub, facing the wall, head leaned back, while Heisenberg sat on the toilet seat behind you. You counted the little dots and indentations in the ceiling while he repaired your injuries.

             You tried not to hiss when he poked around your face, checking your wounds and scratches for any metal debris or splinters. Your eyes watered when he would pull one out, no matter how gently he did it (or tried to), it made your eyes water. You pretended to be strong.

             After a little bit you feel a warm, damp cloth pat your skin. It doesn’t sting as much, and if anything soothes the burn.

             “I told you not to try and escape,” he mutters, “look at what you did to yourself… You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

             “Who was the one that set up the traps that almost killed me?” Your voice was hoarse, dry, and tired from screaming, and your body was sore from running and kicking and screaming. You lost the fight in you an hour or so ago, and here you were being cleaned up from the mess that was made. The mess that you made.

             “I wouldn’t have to set up traps like that if you stopped trying to escape.” He takes a cotton pad with saline solution on it and lightly dabs at the cuts all across your face. “These are going scar, sweetie.” You can feel the sarcasm and hostility at the end but chose to ignore it. “You’ll be beautiful no matter what, of course, but you get them through pain, and I can’t stand the thought you ever being hurt.”

             “Okay boomer.”

             “What the ever-living fuck is a boomer?”

             “Google it.”

             “How did you even get wifi here?”

             “Not telling.”

             He sighs and begins to gently apply aloe to the cuts. You’d never use those words to describe Heisenberg. He’s big, bulky, strong, and intimidating, but for some reason his rough and callous covered hands managed to be so nimble and delicate on top of being bulky and strong. It has to do with his tinkering and building, you suppose.

             He places a kiss on your forehead, above one of the bigger gashes and leans your head off of his lap. “Alright, I think that’s the last of them.”

             You still sit in the tub, covering yourself with your left, covered in gauze and bandages. The other one in a sling with ice inside. It hurt terribly, some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt. You remind yourself to NOT dislocate your elbow.

             You felt so exposed, in nothing but an oversized tank-top and your underwear. He had put you in one of his shirts to have easier access to your arms and such. You were exhausted, and just needed sleep. But you knew that you had a punishment ahead of you, and that you needed to endure a little longer.

             He tilts your head up, to look him in the eyes. There was so much more emotion than you could comprehend: anger, sadness, betrayal, love, there were too many and he was clearly conflicted on what to do.

             He scoops you up bridal style, easily, and holds you close. “I think you’ve learned your lesson for now, being chased by propeller man is more than enough excitement for today, we’ll worry about the consequences tommorow.”

             You just nod your head. “Thank you, Dr. Doofenshmirtz.” It’s a quiet statement, and despite the exhaustion, you still are able to maintain a bit of snark. You refuse to be fully submissive, and in moments where you don’t have the energy to fight physically or battle it out with yelling insults or witty comebacks, you have to resort to statements like these.

             “I told you to call me Karl.”

             You pretend to consider it for a moment. “Hm… no.”

             “I might change my mind and spank you now.”

             You yawn. “You don’t have the nerve.”

             Still, he carries you gently into the shared bedroom. The kink-sized bed with beige sheets and a comforter folded at the end of the bed. It was yours mostly because it’s always cold at night. Heisenberg always found his way under it or wrapped around it somehow, and by morning he was either dead asleep with no way to escape or in the workshop, waiting for you to come visit him in your pajamas.

             “You’re not going to be able to change tonight by yourself.”

             “I’d like to try.”

             “Well, you won’t.”

             “Don’t act so tough, Schwarzenegger.” All of this snark is tiring you out, but you refuse to give up what little control you have left: freedom of speech. Thank God for being an American because lord do you know how to use it.

             “I’d imagine you’d learn to shut your mouth after all the times I’ve gagged you but apparently not.” He sits you down on the poorly made bed and slips his shirt off you. The cold nips at your skin and perks your nipples, which he ogles at for several moments before going to the shared dresser.

             He doesn’t ask how cold you are, just grabs the short-sleeved slip-on night gown from its place in the draw and a pair of underwear. He lifts your legs and slips off your current pair. It’s been a while since you last shaved, but he shows no disgust or even disinterest. He wants to lean closer, smell you, taste you, feel you, but he restrains himself. Your shaken and tired enough as is, no need to worsen that. He slides the new pair back up, lifting your ass with his hands while he pulls the briefs up to the small of your back.

             He slides the sling off your arm, and carefully maneuvers it through the arm hole. “Keep it still, okay.” His voice is soft and gruff, and for a moment, you melt, before you remembered he kidnapped you. You’ve had more domestic moments, ruined by the circumstance in which they came, but for some reason, you feel his caring nature come through more.

             He slides your other arm through the arm hole and tugs the dress down over your head. It’s bunched at your hips from you sitting, but there’s not much he can do about it besides move you, which he doesn’t plan on doing.

             “Heisenberg?” You call out softly, pulling him out of his train of thoughts, “I’d like to go to bed now.” Why the hell do you have to ask for his permission? But you do anyhow. He pushes you back onto your side of the bed, and rests your head on the pillow, that’s almost flat enough to be replaced. Almost. He pulls the covers from under you, and tucks you in up to your chin, just like how you would a child. You see him walk to the end of the bed, his coat moving behind him as he pulls the comforter up. He leans down, and you look in his eyes a moment before kissing you on the forehead.

             “Goodnight pumpkin.”

             “Goodnight Zoidberg.”

             “Goddamn it.”

[24hlevi]

1:48 a.m.

Denji (Chainsaw Man) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chainsaw Man Spoilers !! (chapter 81+)

Summary: Denji thought he wouldn’t lose anyone else, and surely never you. But of course, the worst thing he could ever imagine happened.

Word Count: 782

You were laying down beside Denji in your shared bed and now shared apartment, he wasn’t sleeping and neither were you, but you didn’t talk to each other either. It was a dreadful silence and you hated it, but you weren’t going to complain when you both had been through hell and back as of right now.

The apartment used to belong to Aki with you, Denji, and Power living with him, but it was different now without no Aki or Power. It was so different that it felt weird just to be in the empty apartment with nothing going on when it used to be like a bunch of college roommates living together. It was fun while it lasted. You just didn’t expect it to go away so soon.

“Denji.” You whispered to the blonde boy next to you.

Denji turned his head and looked at you, “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Denji’s eyes widened when he heard those words leave your mouth and you could see the tips of his ears and cheeks turn bright red. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do after being told that as no one he had ever loved told him that. The boy stared at you for a few minutes before whispering out, “I love you too.”

Smiling at him, you leaned towards him and pecked his lips shortly before leaning away. “You want something to eat? I know it’s 1 in the morning but both of us are awake.”

“Please?” Denji asked, a small smile on his face.

“Of course.” You chuckled lightly, getting off the bed and walking out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen when you heard a knock on the door.

Denji followed you out of the room and stopped abruptly when he heard the knock on the door, and he immediately realized what was going to happen. What he had done.

You turned your head around to the door, eyebrows furrowing together as you walked towards it. You noticed Denji standing in front of the kitchen, staring at the door and with a look you couldn’t describe on his face. Worry? Or shock? You didn’t know.

Grabbing onto the door handle, you unlocked the door and opened it, only to see Makima there. “Oh hey Miss Mak-“

Bang.

You suddenly felt an extremely painful and burning pain in your stomach and you looked down, seeing a gaping hole right in the middle of you. Letting out a cough, blood came up and dripped down onto the cold wooden floor. Turning around, you saw Denji standing there with wide eyes and a look of shock on his face.

It took him a few seconds to process what he was seeing but then he quickly rushed towards you and caught you from falling, holding you in his arms as he collapsed to his knees.

“Y/n, Y/n please stay with me.” He whimpered out.

“Denji…” You said.

“Don’t talk, you’ll be okay. I promise. Please don’t leave me.”

You could see tears well up in his eyes which surprised you. You had never seen him cry before, not once. You thought it was just him being too emotionless from all the death around him that he couldn’t cry anymore when it wasn’t that. It was him just being manipulated to the point where he couldn’t do anything by himself anymore, not even think for himself. All because of Makima.

“Promise me…something.” You whispered to him.

“Anything. I’ll do anything just please don’t leave me.” Denji cried, tears spilling from his eyes.

“Kill them all.”

Denji heard what you said, but he was too busy crying to respond. “Please don’t leave. I need you, please. I promise I’ll do it but I can’t do it without you. Please, I love you, please don’t go.”

He kept repeating those sentences over and over again like a song that was broken and kept singing the same lines. That was until he realized that you weren’t blinking your eyes, that you weren’t breathing, when he finally broke down completely.

“No, no, no please don’t do this to me. Y/n, baby please don’t leave. I can’t do this without you. Please come back.” Denji held onto your body tightly against his chest, crying so much that he would definitely have a headache soon after he was done. But he didn’t care about how he would feel or how he looked right now, he cared about you. And losing you was one of the one things he never wanted to happen.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all, I promise. For Aki, for Power, for you. I promise.”

[megthemewlingquim]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.