#heavy rain accident

[townpostin]

Youth Killed in Accident Near Pitki Railway Gate in Seraikela-Kharsawan

Ravindra Gope, an electrician from Chilgu, dies after colliding with a trip trailer on National Highway. A tragic accident near the Pitki Railway Gate in the Nimdih police station area of Seraikela-Kharsawan claimed the life of a young man on Monday night. CHANDIL – Ravindra Gope, a resident of Chilgu in Chandil, died in a road accident near the Pitki Railway Gate. The incident occurred around 8…

[yellowvixen]

if i may ask... did your dbh au amy lose a child/loved one like canon hank? 👀 or is she just jaded in general (love your art style btw)

I wasn't sure but I'm thinking yeah, she also lost a kid. Idk yet exactly how close my au will follow canon, but I feel like it's an important part of Hank's characterisation that the reason he's wallowing in depression is bc he lost his son 3 years prior, so I'm keeping it!

I personally headcanon that Hank and his wife split up amicably before Cole died, so it'll be the same for Amy. Idk if I'll draw her, but her ex wife would be Tekno :]

And thank you!! 🩵

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Tiny…

C’mon Shinya let that adorable soggy Jeanist inside, just look at him /lh

[bopinion]

2024 / 26

Aperçu of the week

"A little less conversation, a little more action!"

(Elvis Presley)

Bad News of the Week

It was a foreseeable accident: the first presidential debate on US television. With a candidate who is known to lie and cheat shamelessly. And a candidate who was doubted to be fit enough for one of the most demanding jobs in the world. Both have been impressively demonstrated. The problem with this is that Donald Trump's potential voters are not deterred by this. But Joe Biden's potential voters will be put off by it.

In an interview on the street after the debate, a young man said: "We are more than 300 million. And that's the best choice we have?" That sums it up well. On the one hand, a guy with "the morals of an alley cat" - Biden is right about that. On the other hand, a deserving statesman who has both feet on the ground of the constitution and is committed to democratic values. But who clearly lacks the physical fitness for a second term in office - Trump is right about that.

According to media reports, "panic is spreading" among many Democrats. And yet Joe Biden is the only one who could take himself out of the race. Because a sitting president is sacred - if he wants to run, he will. Period. Should he actually do so and the warning voices prove to be right, the Democrats will be as much to blame for Trump's re-election as the Republicans. We can only hope that the election itself does not turn into an accident that could have been actually foreseen.

Good News of the Week

Sir Keir Rodney Starmer will be the next Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. After years of chaos under various Conservative leaders, the mood in the country is clear: fundamental change, please. Brexit was botched, the healthcare system is still not working, the labor market is down, inflation is high. The Tories had their chance and blew it. Rishi Sunak's flight forward with early elections will backfire just like French President Emmanuel Macron's.

Labour's party leader Starmer is seen by many as wooden and colorless, a political robot without dynamism. Charisma or ego are alien to him, his nickname is "Mr. Boring". More and more Britons seem to welcome the fact that this is a pleasant contrast to, for example, loudspeaker Boris Johnson, the last actually elected prime minister. Here is someone who simply wants to do his job. He has made his party electable again for the middle of society - because ultimately elections are won everywhere there - and prescribed a new program for it. With small, pragmatic steps, without a grand vision. Functional and straightforward like himself.

It is worth taking a look at his CV. The working-class son from a humble background, whose parents perhaps not coincidentally named him after the first Labor Party leader Keir Hardie, has worked his way up. As a human rights lawyer, Starmer defended environmental activists against McDonald's, fought for compensation payments for miners and represented defendants sentenced to death in Commonwealth countries. As uncompromising prosecutor, he spared no controversial cases and earned a knighthood. As party leader, he also proved that attitude mattered to him, for example by summarily kicking out members with anti-Semitic tendencies.

Starmer says he went into politics "to make the world a better place". With his background, that is credible. And the rather uncreative election campaign slogan "Change" takes on more meaning because of him. A down-to-earth guy from the middle of society with a solid moral compass, who doesn't want to shine but wants to do things, is probably exactly what the UK needs right now. And certainly not the right-wing populists of Reform UK. I wish him every success.

I couldn't care less...

...that 16 US Nobel laureates in economics have warned that Trump is a threat to "the position of the USA in the world". It is almost a tradition that science is rarely listened to in the land of unlimited opportunity. Unfortunately.

It's fine with me...

...that Steve Bannon now has to go to prison for four months. The appeal by Trump's sleazy ex-advisor against his conviction for "Disregard of Congress" was rejected. In my opinion, Bannon has disregarded much more - for example democracy, truth, decency, responsibility, style, etcetera...

As I write this...

...the hottest day of the year so far, 34 degrees Celsius, is followed by a quite cooler 11 degrees Celsius. And it's raining cats and dogs again. In places so heavy that there were flood victims in Switzerland and France and in Italy (!) hailstones with a diameter of 10 cm (!) fell. The next time a climate change denier crosses my path, he'll be lucky if I don't hit him with my umbrella.

Post Scriptum

The new top staff of the European Union is in place. Germany's Ursula von der Leyen will remain Commission President, former Portuguese head of government António Costader will become President of the body of heads of state and government and Estonian Prime Minister Kaja Kallas will be Foreign Affairs Commissioner. These are all comprehensible, balanced and sound decisions made by the European heads of state. Formally, however, they are only proposals, as the European Parliament still has to approve the personnel tableau in a secret ballot. It will be interesting to see which concessions will be made to which political groups. But that's how the political business works: you have to organize majorities.

On the other hand, there is a stronger, albeit still fragmented, right-wing in Parliament and Viktor Orbán as President of the Council for the next six months. In this respect, a strong Commission - whereby the individual Commissioners, i.e. heads of department, have not yet been determined as they are nominated by the individual states - is an important foundation for the start of the new legislative period. Viva Europa!

[teashadephoenix]

on my way down south this morning to pick up my brother, the car in front of me swerved violently into the next lane over

and i had a brief second of "jesus christ wtf was that about" before i saw the CAR COMING STRAIGHT AT ME

so i swerved violently into the next lane

and watched in my rearview like a train wreck as all the cars behind me had the same domino effect of "wtf was that about-- JESUS CHRIST swerve"

as this vehicle kept barrelling down the wrong way (going north in the southbound) until they could find a turnoff and get turned around

and like... there weren't horns or anything. nobody cussed anybody out or anything.

it's florida. the place where that kinda shit happens.

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[revelboo]

Transformers x Reader Masterlist

Or ‘look, I organized the nonsense.’ Only the first chapter appears here, with previous/next navigation added to the parts to make it easier to read. This is an 18+ blog.

Buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/revelboo

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevelBoo/works

About/Warnings/Assorted Headcanons and Scenarios are here

IDW/G1

Starscream x Reader/ Soundwave x Reader/ Megatron x Reader Everything Is Alright Everything Is Alright-full chapters

Wheeljack x Reader Circuits and Wires

Jazz x Reader Over it Now

Soundwave x Reader-stand alone When You're Around

Thundercracker x Reader Better Open the Door

Bluestreak x Reader Where I Belong

Prowl x Reader Stand Too close

Cliffjumper x Reader TKO

Sideswipe x Reader, Sunstreaker x Reader Can't Finish What You Started

Optimus Prime x Reader Gravity

Bumblebee x Reader Last Night

Skyfire x Reader Floating Down The River

Rumble x Reader Alcohol Eyes

Skywarp x Reader Stop Talking

Ratchet x Reader Feel Like Rain

Waspinator x Reader Worker Bee

Ironhide x Reader Hold Me Down

Vortex x Reader I Can't Decide

Grimlock x Reader Shiver

Constructicons x Reader Drive

Insecticons x Reader You (Don't) Know Me

Trailbreaker x Reader Too Tired To Wink

Hound x Reader Heavy Boots

Sunstorm x Reader Love Me Dead

Alternate Takes

Megatron x Reader Skin and Bones

Metroplex x Reader I Can Feel You

Seeker Trine x Reader True Romance

Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader Clumsy Heart

Rainmakers x Reader No Strings

Megatronus Prime x Reader Give It Up

D 16 x Reader Fight For You

Silverbolt x Reader Save World Get Girl

Lost Light

Megatron x Reader Invisible Monsters

Drift x Reader The Samurai Code

Rodimus x Reader Attractive Today

Whirl x Reader Delirium

Scavengers x Reader A Lifeless Ordinary

Ultra Magnus x Reader The Conversation

Swerve x Reader Lose Control

Swindle x Reader Hangman

Tarn x Reader L.G. Fuad

Pharma x Reader Pulp Fiction

Skids x Reader Hysteria

Starscream x Reader Overdone

Sunder x Reader Whipped Cream

Rung x Reader Anything For You

Brainstorm x Reader My Way

Chromedome x Reader x Rewind Circles

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus Chain Me Free

First Aid x Reader Hum Along

TF Prime

Soundwave x Reader Bad Idea

Ratchet x Reader The Weakends

Knockout x Reader My Favorite Accident

Megatron x Reader Broken Arrow

Wheeljack x Reader Crooked Ways

Shockwave x Reader Point of Extinction

Starscream x Reader Bottom Feeder

Dreadwing x Reader Anything At All

Smokescreen x Reader Resolution

Steve and Vehicons x Reader Coin-Operated Boy

TF ONE

Megatron x Reader It Had To Be You

Starscream x Reader Inside Out

B-127 x Reader The Coma Kid

TF Earthspark

Tarantulas x Reader Disappear

Megatron x Reader Give Up/Give In

Bumblebee x Reader The Future Freaks Me Out

Soundwave x Reader Son Of a Gun

Starscream x Reader Disaster Hearts

TF Armada

Starscream x Reader Even If It Kills Me

TF Animated

Optimus Prime x Reader Broken Heart

Blitzwing x Reader Hello Helicopter

Bulkhead x Reader Time Turned Fragile

Blurr x Reader A-Ok

Shockwave x Reader Safe In The Dark

Megatron x Reader The Devil You Know

[ms-demeanor]

BTW following distance:

There are a ton of various ways that people recommend you track following distance in your car for safety, and most of them are some measure of distance or time. I don't know what a hundred yards looks like. I don't know how many is ten carlengths. I measure in time.

The way that I do this is I watch the car in front of me pass an object and I count how long it takes me to get to the same object. Car in front of me passes a line in the pavement? One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi - it takes me four seconds to get to the line.

The faster you are going, the faster TRAFFIC is going, the more time you need for following distance because it's going to take longer for your fast-moving car to stop than it would for your slow-moving car to stop. You need even MORE time if your car is HEAVY, which is part of why it is rock fucking stupid when people dart in front of semis or when massive pickup trucks start tailgating.

With enough practice you get a good feel for what is a safe distance in various conditions (wet road after a long period with no rain? you need A FUCKING LOT of space), but one of the better ways to learn this is to play what I call the traffic game.

When you're playing the traffic game, you sit in traffic behind the car in front of you and you count how many times they press their brakes to each time you press yours, resetting to zero each time you put your foot on the brake.

If you are leaving good following distance, you should almost never use your brakes while driving on the highway because momentum should be enough to slow you down and keep you back if you're getting close to another car. If you have to brake frequently, you're too close for your speed.

Playing this game will make you a better, safer driver who is more aware of traffic and has a better feel for driving conditions. It has the added benefit (for me) of making traffic more fun to sit in as you try to beat your personal record (mine is 48; the driver in front of me pressed their brakes 48 times before I had to press mine).

Reset to zero when you have to brake, or when another car moves in front of you. You're allowed to ignore brake presses when going downhill but have to have double penalties if you brake while going uphill.

The *minimum* following distance at ANY speed and in ANY vehicle is far enough back that you can see where the tires of the vehicle in front of you touch the ground. If you have to brake hard enough that you can't see where the tires in front of you are you need to get off the road and practice driving more in empty parking lots because you are a hazard.

Remember that you are ALWAYS responsible for an accident if you rear end someone - if you rolled into another car because the car behind you hit your car, you were too close! If you rear-ended a driver in front of you because they braked suddenly for a cat in the road and you couldn't stop in time, you were too close! Leaving sufficient distance between you and the car in front of you is basically the most important thing that you can do to improve your road safety once you're past the basic stages of situation awareness and knowing how to check your blind spot. You do not want to be responsible for an accident! You do not want to risk injuring or killing people with your vehicle! One of the single best ways you can avoid that risk is by leaving sufficient following distance!

[colossrat]

marvel likes storms :) Batman grimaced when he received an informational pin on his communicator that a magic user had entered his city at high speed, but only sighed when he noticed that it was a member of the league. one that, despite being friendly, shouldn't be there. He threw himself back and forth between the rooftops until he reached the superhero's location. He was sitting on the edge of a considerably tall building that gave a good view of the city, but the Big Red Cheese was looking up intently to the sky, his legs swinging excitedly.

Batman: Marvel, what are you doing here in Gotham?!

Marvel: Ah, Mr. Batman! Sorry, I know you don't like visitors, but I promise I'm not here to bother you. I'm not even here on business. I'm here because of the storm that's coming!

Batman: Explain.

Marvel: Well? I just like storms. You know, flying through the heavy clouds, feeling the rain, the smell of ozone and the static. It's natural that I love this environment, you know? How when humans feel comfortable in the fetal position? Because they remember their mother's womb, or something like that. Batman saved this information to analyze later, especially the "when humans..." part which may be indicating that the captain was born from a storm.

Batman: Hmn. Don't cause trouble, and if trouble comes to you, call me first.

Marvel: ok mister! will do. And the captain salutes with a big smile. Not even Batman can deny his friendly charm, especially when he comes up with strangely interesting facts like this Now, every time Gotham is hit by a nasty storm, everyone will be ready and waiting for Marvel to be there, chasing thunder, laughing as he flies through the sky, diving head first into the drops of water and static only to fly back up again later. Every now and then he accidentally gets in the way of some evil plan (he absorbed all the rays that the villains wanted to channel to energize a weapon or bring someone back to life, perhaps) and batman just kinda dont want to comment about it Or theres Cap absorbing the most dangerous thunder, the number of accidents throughout the city greatly decreased. like trees catching fire, poles falling, generators breaking down and so on. There are several posts on the internet, even a reddit just with people saying that they saw the big red cheese playing in the storm out there, being hit by thunder on purpose and stuff Eventually he starts to feel comfortable enough in the bats city to help the citizens a little. just a little so as not to irritate his boss. He cuts holes in the clouds to create a gap of light to help a lady look for the keys she dropped on the ground. he shares some electricity for the hospital generators in case they have a problem during the storm. A large branch fell on the street and is blocking traffic? in a red blur, the branch will have been dumped in a safe environment.

Batman actually begins to enjoy the small gestures around the city, even more so because Marvel doesn't try to change her his way, just lend a hand, appreciating what she has to offer, even if that is dark and foggy skies with aggressive rays of buzzing electricity. Bruce is very happy to have someone else who likes Gotham's dark skies.

part 1 of strange facts about the captain that fill the league with "he's silly, I like him" maybe

[xyywrites]

How to use weather as a mood enhancer in scenes

Weather is more than a backdrop—it’s a tool that can subtly amplify the mood, tension, or theme of your scenes. Done well, it can evoke emotions and foreshadow events without being heavy-handed. 

Melancholy:

The rain tapped against the window, steady and unrelenting, much like the weight pressing down on her chest. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, wishing the storm outside could drown out the one inside.

Restlessness:

The wind howled through the cracks of the old cabin, rattling the loose shutters. It wasn’t the kind of wind that swept things away—it was the kind that stayed and gnawed, a restless echo of her own unease.

A Happy Scene with Gloomy Weather:

Rain poured down in sheets, soaking her to the bone, but she didn’t care. She laughed, spinning in the middle of the street, her soaked dress clinging to her legs. For once, the world’s misery couldn’t touch her.

A Tragic Scene on a Bright Day:

The sun was too bright, its warmth mocking the cold numbness spreading through him. People bustled past, smiling under the clear blue sky, while he sat on the curb, clutching the letter that had just ended everything.

In a Chase Scene:

Fog blanketed the forest, turning the trees into looming specters. Each snap of a branch or crunch of leaves felt amplified, like the forest itself was working against him. He couldn’t see his pursuers, but he could feel them closing in.

During a Confrontation:

The wind picked up as they stood in the open field, her hair whipping around her face like a fury she couldn’t contain. Lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating the raw anger in his eyes. Neither of them would back down.

Redemption Arc:

The first snow of the season fell gently, covering the world in white. It felt like a fresh start, even if he didn’t deserve one. He reached out a hand, watching the flakes melt against his skin, and wondered if he could ever be that clean again.

Grief:

The fog rolled in every morning like clockwork, smothering the town in its heavy embrace. It had been that way since the accident, as if even the weather couldn’t bear to let go of what had been lost.

Loneliness:

The snow piled up around the cabin, burying the path and muffling every sound. She’d never felt the silence so keenly before, as if the world had decided to forget her existence entirely.

Isolation:

The heat hung heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe. The cracked earth stretched out in every direction, offering no shade, no solace. She was utterly alone.

Subtle Anxiety:

A bead of sweat slid down her back, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or the unease that had settled under her skin. The humidity pressed in, making the air feel heavier, like it carried secrets she didn’t want to uncover.

Lingering Sadness:

The drizzle wasn’t enough to drench anyone, but it clung to her skin, a persistent chill she couldn’t shake no matter how fast she walked.

Weather isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a storyteller in its own right. Whether it mirrors your character’s emotions, foreshadows danger, or contrasts with the scene’s tone, it can elevate your writing when used thoughtfully. Just remember: subtlety is key. Let weather enhance your story, not overshadow it.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Come Back Knockin'

Benny Cross x reader (the bikeriders fic)

Summary: When Benny finds out you're pregnant, he panics and takes off. You don't think he's ever going to come back to you, so you start trying to figure out your future without your husband by your side. And then one day, there's a knock at your door.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, lots of cursing, mentions of abandonment, angst but not forever, mention of pregnancy, probably typos.

Words: 2900

Part 2: Come Back Together Benny Cross Masterlist 

“Benny, where are you going!” you cry, watching in disbelief as he turns away from you and exits your shared bedroom. “Benny!”

He doesn’t stop at your call. Doesn’t even flinch. Your voice is a pathetic grasp around his wrist that he shakes off like a pesky mosquito. He’s leaving, you realize, and when your body finally catches up with that understanding, you rush after him. 

His strides are long, double the length of yours, and he’s already got his jacket off the hook and is pulling it over his shoulders by the time you’re able to close in on him.

“Benny, don’t go!” you wail in a desperate plea, but it’s still useless, and a moment later you’re chasing him out the front door into the rain. “Please!”

You’re both drenched in an instant, hair stuck to your heads like a pair of drowned alley cats. Your nipples pebble through your thin, white nightgown that now shows every curve of your figure. The denim on his body deepens a few shades of blue from absorbing every drop of the downpour. 

“Benny!” you try once more. 

He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he crosses the street toward his bike, so you stop your chase before your bare feet leave the last step of your front porch. All you can do is watch. Watch his long leg swing over the seat of the bike. Watch him kick the beast to life. Watch how he glows angelic-like under the intense ray of the streetlight; a spotlight on the man you love who is running away from you. 

You don’t bother calling for him again. Your voice would only be muffled by the relentless drumming of heavy rain on pavement. Benny leans forward, and without checking for other vehicles, pulls into the street and drives until the darkness of night claims every speck of light from his bike. 

He’s gone. 

And you’re alone. 

—

You hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed by the news—it’s why you waited nearly three weeks to tell him—but you didn’t foresee such anger over the actuality of being a father. When you told him you were pregnant, his face had darkened in a manner you’ve only witnessed right before his fist meets the jaw of a rival biker. And, in some respect, he'd treated you the same. Like you were a pest, a nuisance, an object put in his path solely for the sake of pissing him off; the difference being that Benny would never lay a hand on you. So instead, he'd left.

On day three of your husband’s absence, Johnny had stopped by to ‘see if the kid was still alive,’ and you were left with the burden and embarrassment of telling him that Benny had skipped town. Johnny had asked why, of course, so you told him, and by the way his features twisted from surprise to desolation, you knew he also saw little hope in your husband returning to you. 

Benny has had his reasons for not wanting to be a father, failure a prominent knot in the back of his mind, but it’s not as if you planned this. It was an accident. An accident that you can’t just wish away because he doesn’t know how to handle being what you and this baby need him to be. 

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” Johnny had said. You’d done your best to hold in the tears while long beats of melancholy silence passed between you. “Listen, you ever need anythin’, you know Betty and me, we love ya, so…”

You’d nodded, wrapping your arms around your middle to stave off a sudden chill. “Thanks, Johnny.” 

He nodded as well, then he'd sighed and glanced around your quiet street as if expecting to see Benny ride up any second. “Well,” he said once it was clear neither of you would be finding that relief, “don’t be a stranger.”

He’d left after that and you haven’t seen him since. Not because you don’t appreciate him, but because he reminds you too much of Benny. Betty had called a few times—she’s as much a mother figure to you as Johnny was to Benny—but you weren’t very forthcoming with enthusiasm at talking baby plans and motherhood. At one point, in an effort to lift your spirits, she’d even mentioned throwing a shower, which immediately made you drop the phone and rush to the bathroom to lose your breakfast. 

When you’d returned, the phone was dangling by the coiled cord, Betty’s concerned voice coming through the speaker. You’d put it up to your ear, told her you'd call her back, and hung up the damn thing. You didn’t call her back. You think she got the message. 

In the weeks that have passed, many of the guys have come by to check on you, and in the beginning, you were somewhat receptive, but it was solely to abstain from hurting feelings and severing ties so harshly. You’re positive the relationships won’t last. You were in the biker lifestyle because of Benny. He brought you into a pre-established family unit, and without him, you don’t belong. 

You know the day may come when you regret letting the club go. Its members are the only people who have reached out their hands to you, but for now, you’re too numb to care, and with that numbness comes self-destruction. And with your particular brand of self-destruction comes isolation. Solitude. Loneliness. You’ve put yourself in place to navigate the future alone. Finding a job to support your child, hoping you’ll make enough so you don’t lose your house—that’s your priority now, and you have no choice but to step up and figure it out. 

—

As it turns out, no one wants to hire a pregnant woman. Well, no one you’ve contacted wants to hire a pregnant woman, but you’re willing to bet they’re a decent indicator of most companies' future rejection. 

It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be telling them of your condition, but your bones are built of honesty and when they ask if you’ll be able to work long-term, you don’t hesitate to reveal the truth. In fact, the truth is out of your mouth before the thought to lie slithers into your head. 

You’re going to have to toughen up, be someone you’re not used to being, if you intend to survive. And that’s all you let yourself think about anymore. When Benny slips into your thoughts, you work tirelessly to shove him aside. It’s taken practice, self-discipline, but you’ve made some progress. Just yesterday you were finally able to overcome your urge to run to the window at hearing the grumble of a motor passing by your house. 

The next goal is to bag up his clothes and stow them away in the attic, but you’ve yet to face his side of the closet without breaking down. And to make it all the more agonizing, the fabrics still smell like him. You could wash them five times over and it would do nothing to remove his scent.

Sometimes, at the peak of your pathetic impulses, you want to sneak inside and bury yourself amongst the cheap and tattered clothes. Turn them into a blanket. Forget everything. But you’ve managed to resist.

Baby steps, you internally repeat as you bring a spoonful of cereal to your lips. You like the sugary stuff now. The stuff that kids gobble down before school. Bad for an expectant mother, yes, but you’re not about to scold yourself for what little enjoyment you find in this life. 

Suddenly, a knock taps on the door. Your head shoots up and your heartbeat stutters at the sound, but you don’t move to answer it. These days, it’s rare you answer it at all. The guys know not to bother you, as do Betty and Gail and Kathy. If they see you’re home, they leave their tupperware-filled home-cooked meals at your doorstep, knowing you’ll grab them once they leave. Anyone else—salesmen or mailmen or whomever—always gives up after a few minutes. 

However, this knocking has yet to cease. It must be a salesman, you think with a groan, and he must not have gotten the memo from other neglected salesmen that you’re a house to avoid. You can’t afford the latest vacuum model, you don’t care to own a stack of encyclopedias, and for the love of god, if you have to tell one more well-dressed man that your missing-in-action biker husband is not in need of a new shaving brush you’re gonna start keeping Benny’s handgun on the entryway table. 

The tapping turns into full-fledged banging that shakes the house, and now you’re irritated, offended on the weathered structure’s behalf. Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand sharply and round the corner into the hall. A curse is on your lips as you wrap your hand around the knob, twist, and pull, but it dies. More than dies, it’s sucked right out of your lungs along with your breath. 

You want to slap him, split his puffy lips and watch the blood run down his chin. You want to shove him back so he’ll fall down the stairs and land on his ass. You want to get your breath back because that curse is clawing for freedom and you desperately want to let it out. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

He looks like shit. Well, as much as Benny Cross can look like shit, which is quite unimpressive compared to other men, but at least he doesn’t look well-rested. There’s some satisfaction in that, limited as it may be. 

“Hi, baby,” he says. The low tone shudders your spine. If he’s happy to see you he doesn’t show it, but you know that even if he is, he wouldn’t dare smile after what he did. 

Your swallow is hard, painful, and as the ease with which he spoke those two words sinks in, every emotion you’ve felt since he vanished bubbles over the edge of your resolve.

“‘Hi, baby’?” you echo. “Are you serious? That’s the best you’ve got, you asshole?” Your hand smacks against his chest and the unexpectedness of it forces him to stumble back a foot. You follow his stumble, stepping out onto the porch. “It’s been six weeks, Benny!”

He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know.”

“Six fucking weeks!” With your second smack, his fingers latch around your wrist, but he doesn’t push your hand away, he keeps it planted above his heart, refusing to let you go. 

Dipping his head, he stares directly into your eyes. The intensity momentarily stuns you. “I know,” he repeats.

“Oh, you know,” you say, trying to jerk out of his grasp. “You abandon your pregnant wife and you think knowing that you’ve done it means a damn thing to me? Fuck off!”

“No,” he calmly replies.

“Yes!” you bark.

“No.”

Tears begin to cloud your vision. He disappeared and broke your heart at the worst possible time and now that you don’t want him here, he refuses to leave. And how horrible, how fucking humiliating to have your husband dismiss your desires so flippantly. 

“I hate you!” you snap.

“I love you.”

“You left!”

“I panicked.” His free hand lands on your shoulder and slides up your neck to cup your cheek. “I panicked, baby,” he says softly.

That gentle tone pierces your skin against your will and seeps into your veins, spreading throughout your body a sedating sensation. Just enough of the drug to slow your violent pulse without knocking you out completely. And in the absence of such potent rage, sorrow takes over. 

Your bottom lip quivers. Salty drops create lines down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto the rotting floorboards beneath your feet. He was supposed to replace those. It was going to be a summer project but a month and a half has already been carved out of the season and the floorboards still bow under your weight.

“Why were you allowed to panic?” you whimper. “I didn’t get to panic, so how come you got to?”

He sighs, his calloused thumb stroking your cheek. He doesn’t have a response but you didn’t expect one, at least not one with any substance, so you continue. “You know what I’ve been doing while you were out panicking? Trying to find a job so I can afford this house and provide for our child the way a parent should. But no one’s been willing to hire me.”

Benny’s brow pinches and his grip on your hand tightens. Broad shoulders fall forward as if you've just placed a few hefty boulders upon them. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he breathes. “I’m sorry. I shoulda been protecting you from those kinds of worries. I shoulda been here.”

“Well, you weren't.”

“I'm gonna be,” he tells you, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe that you believe him. “I am.”

You wish you could trust his word. You wish it was that simple. You wish you were more forgiving, but a situation conflicting enough to require this level of forgiveness is not something you’ve dealt with before. You’ve experienced loss in your life, and you know it well���your father left and your mother disengaged from motherhood, but neither were so rude as to put you in a place to contemplate forgiveness for their betrayal. Neither came back to request it. 

“Will you wait here?” he asks, “and not lock me out when my back is turned? Please?”

You’re severely tempted to do just that because, frankly, he’s made you wait for him long enough. But for some reason, you don't. You cast your gaze aside, cross your arms, and after a couple of seconds, nod your head. 

In your peripherals, you detect his light smile. Then he turns, walks back to his bike, and wrestles a brown paper-wrapped package out of the pack attached to his seat.   

“What is this?” you ask as he returns to the porch and offers it to you. 

“If I was just going to tell you then why would I have wrapped it?”

You almost roll your eyes at the image of Benny taking the time to wrap anything for anyone, as normally he’d enlist someone else (you) to do it, but looking at it, it really is a poorly packaged mess. Wrinkled and ripped in one spot, with a lop-sided bow tied from the string that’s holding the parcel together. Definitely Benny-quality work for this sort of task.

As you tear through the wrapping, Benny collects your scraps, balling the shredded paper together and setting that ball down on the porch railing. The small blanket in your hands is made of bright green fabric with fringed trim, and when you unfold it, hanging it high to get a look at the full thing, you see a white duckling embroidered into one of the corners. 

You lower the blanket so you can meet Benny's eyes. “Why a duck?”

He sticks his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “They didn't have any with little Harley’s,” he teases.

To your great internal shame, you have to choke down a chuckle. His innocent joke instantly reminds you that he’s the one man who can make you laugh, the one who won you over because of his subtle wittiness and his less subtle charm. And now you fucking miss him, damn it. You’d convinced yourself you’d gotten over that, but even as he stands within touching distance, holding distance, kissing distance, you miss him.  

He clears his throat. “Um…if you don't like it I can–”

“No,” you stop him, shaking your head. “I don't particularly like you at the moment, but…” You exhale and give the gift another glance. “I like the blanket.”

Benny nods. His adam’s apple bobs harshly in his throat as you refold the blanket and clutch it to your chest. 

“You think you could like me again one day?” he asks. “You know, if I prove myself real well.”

Your eyes narrow as they flick up to his ocean blues. “Prove yourself as what?”

“A husband,” he says. “A father.”

A husband. A father. One of which he’s been good at in the past—prior to the disappearing act, of course—and one of which you used to believe he’d be good at in the future if that was where fate led you, which it has. But…you don't know. 

You have two options. That’s it. Yes or no. Can you risk it or not? It’s a lot to take in but the reality is, there’s a question you must answer before you can answer any others—did the bomb he threw at your lives shatter your heart to an unmendable state? 

You chew on your cheek, your jaw ticks, and then with a huff, you straighten your spine. 

“You can never do this again,” you declare firmly, poking your index finger into the center of his chest. “I mean it, Benny. If you do, we won't be here when you come back.”

The ropes of rigidness unravel from his body. “Baby, this is where I wanna be,” he says, stepping into your space once more. “I promise.”

You can feel your heartbeat jackrabbiting from his closeness now that your overwhelming emotions have somewhat subsided.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him.

Benny grins. “That's fair.”

---

maybe a part 2? Let me know :)

Updated Taglist (if you wanna join)

[loveesiren]

𝙼𝚢 𝙼𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

a/n: i told ya'll i wasn't done writing for them! there's still more to come for this series as well as a new series! i linked to the series masterlist but if you haven't read it before thats okay! enjoy :)

synopsis: (a continuation of Forever) Thanos still struggles with his anxiety a year after the game. Being sick only enhances his panic.

warnings: anxiety, panic attack, symptoms of ptsd, fluff

wc: 3.4k+

It was a dreary, rain-soaked day in Seoul, the kind of day where the sky seemed to blend into the ground, gray and heavy. Thanos lay curled under a thick, knitted blanket on the couch, the soft crackle of the fireplace the only warmth against the chill in the air. A hot mug of tea sat untouched on the coffee table in front of him, the aromatic steam curling like ghostly fingers toward the ceiling.

“Drink your tea, baby,” you said gently, your tone carrying both affection and a hint of sternness. You knew how stubborn he could be, even when he was clearly suffering. His only response was a low grumble as he tugged the blanket higher, hiding himself from the world. His cheeks were pale, flushed only by the fever he’d been battling for days now. Strep throat—the doctor’s words still echoed in your head from the day before.

“T, please,” you coaxed, your voice softer now as you adjusted the blanket over his shoulders. “It’ll help your throat. Just a few sips.”

He didn’t respond, his focus fixed on the TV. South Park blared in the background, the absurd humor earning him a weak giggle, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Even sick, Thanos was a child at heart.

“I’m heading out to grab your medicine and stuff for dinner,” you announced, slipping on your jacket as you gathered your things.

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide with sudden concern. “Wait—you’re leaving?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and the vulnerability in his tone made you pause.

“Yes, hon. I have to get your antibiotics.”

“I can come!” he blurted, sitting up too quickly. The effort seemed to zap what little strength he had, and he slumped back against the cushions.

“No,” you said firmly, crossing the room to kneel beside him. “You’re staying right here and resting. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Thanos hesitated, his brow furrowed as anxiety flickered in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. The warmth of your palms seemed to anchor him, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been here for two years now, remember? I know my way around, and it’s just a quick trip. I promise.”

His lips trembled as he opened his eyes, and for a moment, the mask he often wore—stoic, unshaken—crumbled. “Be back soon… please.” His hand reached for yours, pressing three soft kisses to your palm like a silent prayer.

You smiled, though your heart ached at the worry etched into his features. “I promise, honey.” You leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Try to rest, okay?”

He nodded reluctantly, sinking back into the couch as you draped the blanket over him once more. His eyes followed you to the door, and you gave him one last reassuring glance before stepping into the elevator.

The moment the door clicked shut, the silence pressed down on him like a weight. Thanos tried to focus on the TV, on the cartoon chaos playing out on the screen, but his mind refused to stay still. His hands began to tremble, and a cold sweat formed on his forehead despite the heat of the fireplace.

The thoughts came, sharp and relentless. What if she slips in the rain and breaks her arm? What if she gets in an accident? What if someone hurts her—what if she doesn’t come back?

His chest tightened, his breaths growing shallow as panic clawed at him. He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but the memories of the games came flooding back—each moment of helplessness, every second of fear that had taught him the world was cruel and unpredictable.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his body shaking as tears slipped down his cheeks. “She’ll be fine,” he whispered to himself, as though saying it aloud would make it true. “She promised…”

But promises didn’t always hold in a world that had taken so much from him.

And so, Thanos sat there, the blanket wrapped tight around him, a storm raging inside to match the one outside. All he could do now was wait—and hope.

-

You darted up and down the aisles of the grocery store, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor as you tried to gather everything on your list. The rain outside had seeped into your sleeves, chilling your arms, but you barely noticed. All you could think about was getting home—to your boyfriend. The small orange bottle of antibiotics in your purse felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, a constant reminder of how fragile he seemed today.

The weight of his pale face and hoarse voice lingered in your mind, pressing against your heart. You moved quickly, grabbing vegetables and broth for the soup you’d promised to make him. Thanos didn’t often ask for much, but when he wasn’t feeling well, he needed you in ways that pulled on something deep within you—an instinct to protect him, to wrap him in warmth and make the world feel less harsh.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you swiped it open to see a message from your grandmother.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want me to come by? I can bring food, or even stay and help out for a few days.”

You smiled faintly at her offer, warmth blooming in your chest. As much as you appreciated her kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something you wanted—needed—to handle yourself.

“Thanks, Halmeoni,” you typed back quickly, “but I’ve got it. I want to take care of him. I’ll call if I need anything, promise.”

She responded immediately with another offer, and then another, peppering her messages with instructions for dinner and well wishes for Thanos. As you tossed a bundle of rosemary into your cart, you texted her back between stops: “Okay, okay! I’ll remember the garlic. Love you!”

Finally, after what felt like ages, you made your way to the checkout counter. The hum of the conveyor belt and the beep of the scanner filled the air as you bagged your groceries, mentally double-checking your list. The moment you stepped outside, the rain greeted you again, its cold droplets pricking at your cheeks. You slipped your AirPods in and hit play on your comfort playlist, the familiar melodies keeping you steady as you clutched the bags tightly and made your way to your car.

-

Meanwhile, Thanos was falling apart.

He sat on the floor, the blanket that had once been wrapped around him now pooled at his feet. His head rested heavily in his hands, his fingers tangled in his dark, sweat-dampened hair. His phone—he couldn’t find his phone. He had looked everywhere he could think of, but in his feverish haze, he couldn’t focus, couldn’t remember.

“Where is it?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking as his hands fumbled around him. “I need to—” The words caught in his throat, replaced by a rising panic that clawed at his chest. He needed to call you. He needed to hear your voice, to know you were safe.

But the thoughts were already spiraling, pulling him under like an undertow he couldn’t fight. What if she slipped and hit her head? What if someone followed her? What if the rain made her car spin out? His breath hitched. Each imagined scenario was more horrifying than the last, and none of them felt far-fetched—not to him, not in the world he had lived in.

His body betrayed him, trembling as the adrenaline surged through his veins. His heart raced uncontrollably, pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. He pressed his hands against his chest as if trying to physically hold himself together, but the pressure only seemed to make it worse.

The room spun around him, the edges of his vision blurring as he squeezed his eyes shut. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine, he chanted silently, but the words felt hollow, swallowed by the louder voice in his head screaming that something was wrong. His breaths became shallow and desperate, each one harder to pull in than the last.

The tears came next, hot and relentless, streaming down his face as he rocked back and forth on the floor. He hated this. He hated the way his mind betrayed him, the way his body refused to listen to logic. “Why can’t I just be normal?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why am I so fucking weak?”

Memories of the games flashed behind his closed eyelids. The helplessness, the fear, the constant sense of waiting for the worst to happen. It had rewired something in him, left him with a heart that couldn’t rest, a mind that couldn’t stop bracing for the next blow.

Curling into himself, he pressed his forehead against his knees, his breath hitching with every sob. He wanted to be better—for you, for himself—but the spiral felt endless. His fever blurred reality, making everything feel bigger, heavier.

Minutes felt like hours as he sat there, shaking and broken on the floor. The only thing keeping him tethered was the faint hope that you’d walk through the door soon. He needed you. Desperately.

And so, he waited, the storm inside him raging as fiercely as the one outside.

-

Pulling your car into the reserved parking spot in the underground garage always brought a small smile to your face. It was a privilege you hadn’t grown used to, no matter how many times you parked there. You would live in a tent if it meant being with Thanos, but you had to admit, the perks of his luxurious life didn’t hurt. The sleek penthouse, the reserved parking, the polished floors of the building’s lobby—it all felt like a dream, even after all this time.

Grabbing the grocery bags from the trunk, you made your way toward the lobby, your arms full but your steps light. The doorman greeted you with a bow, and you returned it politely before continuing to the private elevator that led to the penthouse. You swiped your card, the quiet beep granting you access to the place you now called home.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped into the warm, quiet space of the penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the city skyline, streaked with rain that blurred the twinkling lights outside. The soft hum of the heating system was the only sound. Relief washed over you.

“God, the store was a madhouse!” you called out, setting the heavy bags down near the kitchen and peeling off your rain-soaked coat. You brushed your damp hair out of your face, ready to share a laugh with Thanos about the chaos of the day. “You’d think—”

Your words froze in your throat as your eyes fell on him.

Thanos was curled up on the floor near the couch, his body trembling violently. His blanket lay discarded nearby, and his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if trying to hold the pieces together.

“T!” you screamed, dropping everything as you rushed to his side. You fell to your knees beside him, your hands instinctively reaching out to pull him into your arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? What’s happening?!”

He didn’t respond immediately, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His skin was burning hot, his face pale except for the fevered flush across his cheeks. His glassy, unfocused eyes darted around the room before they landed on you, and you saw a flicker of recognition break through the panic.

“Y/n?” he croaked, his hoarse voice cracking as he clutched at the fabric of your shirt like it was his lifeline.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you held him closer. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.” You ran your fingers through his messy purple hair, the motion soothing for both of you.

He clung to you desperately, his body still trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His breaths were shallow and ragged, but he managed to inhale your familiar scent, grounding himself in the safety of your presence.

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to stay strong for him. You knew how much he struggled with his past, how the memories lingered like shadows that refused to leave. He never talked about it, not really, but moments like this revealed the scars he tried so hard to hide.

“You’re here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as if he needed to remind himself that it was real.

“I’m here,” you repeated, pressing a soft kiss to his damp forehead.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled weakly, his voice laced with shame.

The apology shattered you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for, honey. Nothing.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, but you meant every word.

For the next twenty minutes, you cradled him on the floor, murmuring soft reassurances and stroking his hair as his breathing slowly evened out. You whispered about the soup you were going to make, about how you’d stay with him until he felt better. Gradually, the tremors subsided, and his body relaxed against yours.

Finally, you coaxed him back to the couch, wrapping him in his favorite blanket and tucking it securely around him. His tired eyes followed you as you stood. “I’m going to make my Halmeoni’s famous soup, okay?” you said with a small smile. “It always made me feel better when I was sick.”

He nodded reluctantly, his eyes still glassy. “You’re here.”

“Yes, baby,” you said, brushing your thumb gently over his flushed cheek. “I’m right here. I’ll just be in the kitchen, okay?”

Before leaving, you grabbed the bottle of antibiotics and shook one pill into your palm, handing it to him along with a glass of water. “Take this,” you said softly. He hesitated for a moment but then obeyed, swallowing the pill and offering you a faint, tired smile.

“Good boy,” you teased.

-

As night fell, the sound of rain against the glass walls of the penthouse became a comforting rhythm. You stood over the stove, stirring the soup carefully as you tried to follow your grandmother’s recipe. Every few minutes, you texted her for guidance, and her replies were quick and filled with concern.

How’s Su-Bong? Does he still have a fever? Should I come over?

He’s fine! you reassured her. I’m making him dinner right now.

You smiled faintly as you read her reply but focused on your task, determined to get it just right. The aroma of garlic, ginger, and simmering broth filled the air, bringing a sense of warmth back into the apartment.

Soft footsteps behind you caught your attention. You turned to see Thanos shuffling into the kitchen, his blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders like a cape. His hair was still messy, and his cheeks flushed, but there was a softness in his tired eyes as he approached.

“Hi, baby,” you said, glancing back at the pot as you stirred. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of answering, he came up behind you, resting his hands lightly on your hips and letting his head droop lazily onto your shoulder. “Miss you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt.

You couldn’t help but smile at his clinginess. “Food’s almost ready, hon. Go sit down, okay?”

He whined softly, reluctant to let go, but eventually shuffled back to the couch as you gently shooed him away. The corners of your mouth lifted as you watched him retreat, blanket trailing behind him like a child dragging a beloved toy.

Even as you finished the soup, ladling it carefully into bowls, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—for the warmth, for the love you shared, and for the quiet moments like this where you could remind him that he was never truly alone.

With a careful grip on both bowls, you shuffled across the polished hardwood floors, your sock-clad feet making soft, whispering sounds as you moved. The aroma of the soup—ginger, garlic, and the herbs your grandmother insisted were essential—wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of the fireplace. You placed your own bowl on the coffee table, turning to Thanos with a soft smile as you offered him his.

“Eat up, baby,” you said gently, your voice carrying the kind of warmth only reserved for him. “It’ll help you feel better.”

His tired eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving into a small but genuine smile. Despite the fever still painting his cheeks pink, there was a flicker of gratitude in his expression.

“Thank you, angel,” he said, his voice still hoarse but laced with affection. He took the bowl from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his damp forehead. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve me, T,” you murmured. “Just be here.”

He gazed at you with an almost boyish awe as you sat down beside him, curling your legs beneath you and leaning back against the cushions. The flickering light of the TV danced across both of your faces as the silly, absurd humor of the cartoon filled the room. It wasn’t your usual choice, but the way Thanos chuckled weakly between spoonfuls made it worth every ridiculous joke.

Thanos was quick to finish his first bowl, the warmth of the soup visibly helping to ease the tension in his shoulders and the rasp in his voice. You noticed the way his movements seemed less lethargic, his hands steadier as he held the bowl. Without a word, you rose and brought him seconds, knowing the nourishment would help him fight off the lingering illness.

“More?” you asked, holding out the freshly filled bowl with a raised brow and a teasing smile.

He nodded sheepishly, his lips twitching upward. “You really are an angel, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” you teased lightly, leaning over to kiss his temple before handing him the bowl.

Dinner passed quietly, the clinking of spoons against ceramic mingling with the occasional chuckle from the TV. When he finally set the empty bowl down, his movements slow and careful, you gathered both bowls and carried them to the sink. You stared at the dishes for a moment before deciding they were a problem for tomorrow. Tonight wasn’t about chores—it was about him.

Returning to the couch, you grabbed the blanket and nestled yourself beside Thanos. He shifted to accommodate you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. The weight of his arm was comforting, grounding.

The blanket was warm and soft, cocooning you both as you sank deeper into the cushions. Thanos’ fingers found their way to your hair, lazily twisting and untangling strands in a soothing rhythm. His touch was absent minded, but it carried so much tenderness that it made your chest ache.

The cartoons faded into background noise as your eyelids grew heavier. You turned over, your body curling into his chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat—a steady, reassuring sound that lulled you closer to sleep. Thanos tightened his arms around you, his lips finding the top of your head.

He pressed a long, meaningful kiss there, his lips lingering as if the act alone could convey all the love he didn’t have the words for.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispered into your hair, his breath warm against your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to glance up at him. “I’ll always take care of you, T,” you mumbled, your voice soft and drowsy. You tightened your arms and legs around him, as if holding him closer would keep the world at bay.

Thanos rested his cheek against your head, his fingers continuing their gentle path through your hair. The sound of your steady breathing soon turned to soft snores, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The tension in his chest eased completely. The panic and fever were no match for the warmth of your presence, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms.

As he held you, his own eyes growing heavy, he thought, This is the only medicine I need.

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[satcrvz]

LOVEFOOL!

— in which your boyfriend sneaks into your room and decides it’s a good idea to watch a horror movie.

SATORU GOJO X F!READER, readers love language is lowk physical touch, not proofread (are we shocked anymore)

thud.

you averted your gaze to the direction the sound game from, and behold, it was gojo. you began to question him. what could he possibly want at eleven at night?

"satoru? what are you doing here?!" you ask.

"you don't want me here?" he cries dramatically. you swore you’d never closed the space between the two of you that fast. your palm rose to cover his mouth.

you quickly reminded him, "quiet down! you know you're not supposed to be here." he gives a nod in affirmation to your words and you let go. you took a step back and started up the conversation again.

"so.." you began, "why are you here?"

he scoffs and makes his way to your bed. "well, you weren’t answering my texts." he says while falling back onto your bed.

you smile at him before making your way to situate yourself next to him. "you could’ve callled me."

he hums at your words, "yeah. guess i just wanted to see you." he props himself up on his elbows to look at you sitting next to him.

the sound of heavy rain followed by lightning and thunder catches your attention.

"damnit." you say as you get up to close the window.

he makes his way to you in an attempt to persuade you to stay, but his plan backfires. for the second time tonight, satoru gojo has fallen in your room.

this earned a laugh from you, which was probably louder than a 6'3" guy hitting your hardwood.

"baby, love of my life, what part of 'you aren't supposed to be here' didn’t click?"

"that one was an accident! i tripped over my slide! come help me up, please?"

you sighed and extended your hand towards him.

"you can stay, i'm not going to send you back into the storm."

"yes!" he says while pulling his elbow down with his hand in a fist. you laugh and roll your eyeballs at him.

the two of you were finally settled on your bed. the scene consisted of his back resting on the headboard with one of your plushies on his lap, while you scrolled through movies with him refusing any you suggested.

"babe! what do you want to watch then!? you’ve rejected like, the last 5 movies and said maybe to one of them."

he moves the plush in his lap to face you and puts on a high pitched voice, "turn on a horror film!"

"no way."

"pleaseee! it'll be good, i promise."

"and what do i get in return?" you ask.

"super hot boyfriend protecting you from the big bad monsters? i dunno."

you hand the remote to him and let him do his own thing. "you’re so cocky."

after scrolling through the horror selection, he finally lands on the conjuring 2. yeah you definitely weren’t going to sleep after this.

"move it buddy." he’s confused on what you're doing, but quickly catches on after he sees you removing the animal from his left hand and replacing it with your own.

the movie went by and around the 30 minute mark, you’d become startled by the man on the screen. you jumped but your face remained the same. you wouldn’t have said anything about it, but your boyfriend started lightly snickering.

"did you seriously jump?" he looks over to you.

"oh, shut up!" you raise your hand that was intertwined with his and gently slap the back of his hand.

toward the end of the movie, you started to drift asleep but managed to stay awake. gojo saw this as the perfect opportunity to mess with you. he put his hands on both sides of your stomach grabbed you as he said "boo!" in a hushed tone.

your eyes widened as you jumped, then quickly returned to normal to give him an unamused look.

"i hate you." you say.

"if you hated me, you would've sent me back home." he says.

"i hate that you're right." you say while draping yourself over him. " 'm gonna sleep now, you should too."

"i will once the movie finishes."

you hum in acknowledgement and began going to sleep. it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, given that you were already tired.

"i love you." he says before shutting off the tv.

he knew he wasn't supposed to be there and the risk of your parents seeing him there, but he didn’t care. if it meant he got to spend time with you, then he’d take that risk.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Close call

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: After a heated argument that leads Y/n to storm out into the rain, a near-death accident brings Lando and Y/n back together

________________________________________________________

The day had started off fine—normal, even. You had both been in good spirits after Lando’s last race weekend. He had been on the podium, and the celebrations had been nothing short of electric. But then, like a storm brewing on the horizon, small tensions began to rise between you two. It was always something—little things that built up over time. The missed texts, the rescheduled plans, the constant feeling that his attention was always somewhere else. Today, it had finally come to a head.

“I’m not asking you to choose between me and your career,” you yelled, your voice shaking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “But I need to know where I stand, Lando. It’s like I’m just an afterthought to you!”

Lando stood on the opposite side of the room, hands clenched into fists by his sides. His jaw was tight, anger simmering in his eyes. “That’s not fair! You know how much I care about you. But I can’t just drop everything every time you feel neglected. This is my job. My life.”

“And what am I, then?” you shot back, stepping forward. “Just something on the side when it’s convenient for you? I sit here, waiting—always waiting—while you go off and live your dream. What about my life, Lando?”

His face twisted with frustration, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “You knew what this was when we got together! You knew racing would come first, that my schedule is insane. What do you expect me to do? Quit?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I expect you to make time for me! To show me that I’m important, that I matter! But you don’t, Lando. It’s like I’m just… background noise.”

Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising. “That’s bullshit! You know that’s not true. I’ve been trying, but you keep pushing and pushing, like nothing I do is ever enough for you!”

“Because it’s not!” you screamed, tears spilling over now. “I’m tired of feeling like I have to fight for a place in your life. You’re never here, and when you are, you’re not really present.”

He stopped pacing, his face hardening as he glared at you. “Maybe if you actually supported me instead of complaining all the time, things wouldn’t be so hard.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a step back, your breath catching in your throat. “You think I don’t support you?”

Silence.

“I’m at every race, every event, doing everything I can to cheer you on. I rearrange my entire life around your schedule, and you still have the nerve to say I don’t support you?”

Lando’s face softened for a brief moment, but the anger flared again. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it’s exhausting, alright? Trying to balance everything when it feels like you’re constantly on my case.”

You blinked at him, tears falling freely now. “On your case? You think I enjoy feeling this way? I’m exhausted too, Lando. I’m exhausted from waiting for you to show up.”

His expression twisted, and for a moment, he seemed to want to respond, but something snapped in you before he could speak. You turned on your heel, storming out of the living room and heading towards the door, grabbing your jacket as you went.

“I can’t do this right now,” you muttered, pulling the door open.

“Where are you going?” Lando demanded, his voice sharp behind you.

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”

Just as you stepped outside, the sky that had been so clear all day suddenly let loose. Rain poured down in thick sheets, soaking you within seconds. You didn’t care. You needed to get away, clear your head, breathe something other than the heavy air of your apartment. You began walking, not even knowing where you were going. You were too hurt, too angry, and too tired to think clearly.

Behind you, Lando hesitated at the door. He hated seeing you like this, but his pride kept him frozen. You didn’t wait for him to follow, assuming he wouldn’t.

The rain pelted harder as you walked further, your clothes drenched, your hair sticking to your face. You kept going, lost in your thoughts, but as you stepped off the curb to cross the street, everything changed in an instant.

The loud honk of a car horn blared, headlights flashing in your peripheral vision. You turned just in time to see the vehicle barreling toward you, too fast to stop. A surge of panic shot through you, freezing your legs in place.

Suddenly, something slammed into you from the side, sending you tumbling to the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of your lungs, and your body hit the pavement hard. The world spun as you lay there, rain pouring down on you, gasping for air. You realized someone had pushed you out of the way—Lando.

He had run after you, faster than you realized, and tackled you just in time to get you out of the path of the car. The vehicle screeched to a halt mere inches from where you had stood, its tires skidding on the slick pavement.

“Y/N!” Lando’s voice was panicked, hands shaking as he pulled you up, eyes scanning you for any injuries. “Are you okay? Did it hit you? God, please tell me you’re okay.”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath, but your chest ached from where you had hit the ground. “I’m… I’m okay,” you whispered, wincing as you sat up.

He knelt beside you, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wide with fear and guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I shouldn’t have let you walk out. I should’ve—God, if I hadn’t run after you—” His voice broke, and you saw the terror in his eyes.

You reached up, placing a shaky hand on his cheek. “Lando… I’m fine. You saved me.”

He shook his head, his throat tight with emotion. “I was such an idiot. I should’ve listened. I should’ve been there for you.” His voice was low, filled with regret. “You’re right. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I’ve taken it for granted. I’m sorry.”

The rain continued to pour, soaking both of you, but in that moment, none of it mattered. You let out a shaky breath, wiping the wet strands of hair from his face. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I just felt so… lost. But I know you’re trying. I see it, and I’m sorry for making it seem like it’s not enough.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ll make this right. I promise.”

You held onto him just as tightly, both of you soaked to the bone but no longer feeling the cold. The fight, the anger, the hurt—it all seemed so small compared to what had just happened. You almost lost each other in more ways than one.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and this time, it felt like a promise.

[strawbubbysugar]

trick question both of them have experienced both

Y/ngineer- very gender, masc but also so very gender. Goofy goober. Soppy wet cat

Pry/ncess- also very gender but less than y/ngineer, beautiful feminine creature, probably had to get a rabies shot after fighting moon that one time, goober, bad family life

Both are such amazing raccoons that I love so much and I see myself in both of them and I love how character they both are

One of these two y/n’s has had heavy metal poisoning and the other has been electrocuted 4 times bonus points if you get it

[spencerrsmopbucket]

Fragility | Caius Volturi x Reader

Pairing: Caius Volturi x Reader Summary: Caius' human mate has fallen ill.

The castle walls were as cold as the man you’d come to know as Caius, one of the Volturi kings. You hadn’t meant to end up here—dragged into the world of vampires because of a fateful connection you couldn’t quite understand. All you knew was that the man with the piercing eyes and cruel tongue was drawn to you, even as he fought to keep you at arm’s length. When you'd arrived at the castle, it wasn't for this reason at all. Your father, a well known influence in Italy, had been turned -- one dark night as sheets of rain fell.

After his turning, he went out of control, horrific blood thirst and confusion plaguing him and creating a monster. He'd turned your mother too, on accident. So, consequently, your entire household was summoned to the castle, forced to come before the Volturi kings. Of course, your parents were ended almost as soon as they were brought before Aro. They'd caused too much wreckage, too much confusion among Italy. After all, your family was a sort of royalty in Italy, just like the Volturi -- only you were human. There were whispers about the disappearance of your father and then about the disappearance of your family.

You were fated to be killed too. That was until Aro and Caius took a closer look at you. When you'd gathered the courage to meet the eyes of Caius Volturi in the throne room, his red predatory eyes, they were full of a mix of emotions.

Caius had looked at you as though you were an anomaly, something inexplicable and infuriating. For a moment, the throne room had fallen silent, the usual air of formality dissipating into something heavy and charged. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze, yet you couldn’t look away either.

Aro had been the first to break the silence. “Oh, how delightful,” he murmured, his tone light but laced with intrigue. He moved closer, his pale hand extending toward you. “There is something extraordinary about her, isn’t there, Caius?”

Caius’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Extraordinary or not,” he said coldly, “she’s human. Fragile. A liability.”

Aro’s grin widened as if Caius’s words only amused him. “Ah, but she’s also your mate, dear brother.”

The words sent a shockwave through the room, and you couldn’t quite comprehend their meaning. Mate? Your heart pounded in your chest, but it was nothing compared to the flicker of something—anger? Fear?—that passed over Caius’s otherwise impenetrable face.

“Impossible,” Caius said sharply, though his voice betrayed a crack of uncertainty. “She’s nothing.”

You flinched at the coldness of his tone, but Aro was quick to soothe. “Oh, Caius, you can’t fight fate,” he said, stepping back and gesturing toward you with a flourish. “She’s quite intriguing, isn’t she? Even Marcus agrees.”

Marcus, the quietest of the three, simply nodded, his ancient eyes watching you with something that felt like pity. “The bond is there,” he said softly. “Undeniable.”

Caius glared at Marcus, but his defiance faltered when he looked at you again. His crimson eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. Instead, he turned abruptly, his cloak billowing as he stormed out of the room without another word.

After that day, your life in the Volturi castle became a strange blend of luxury and imprisonment. You were given quarters that rivaled those of royalty, with silk sheets, fine clothes, and meals prepared to perfection. But the grandeur did little to ease the tension of your situation. You were watched constantly, your every move monitored by guards who reported directly to Caius.

He avoided you at first, his disdain for the situation evident in every clipped command he gave the others regarding your care. Yet, despite his coldness, he refused to let you leave the castle grounds. When Aro questioned this decision, Caius’s response was curt and final: “She’s too fragile.”

You overheard the whispers among the Volturi guard -- snippets of conversation about how Caius’s protective streak was unusual, even for a mate. “He won’t admit it,” Jane had said once, her cold voice laced with both amusement and curiosity, “but she’s already under his skin.”

The first time you saw Caius’s care for you in full force was during a confrontation with a visiting coven. One of their members -- a tall, arrogant vampire with a cruel smirk -- had made a passing comment about the “human pet” in the castle. The words hadn’t even fully left his mouth before Caius was upon him, his hand wrapped around the vampire’s throat.

“You will address her with respect,” Caius snarled, his voice like ice. “Or you won’t address her at all.“

The entire room had fallen silent, and even Aro seemed taken aback by the ferocity in Caius’s tone. The vampire stammered an apology, and Caius released him with a shove, turning to you with a glare.

“Stay out of my sight,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “If we find another issue with your coven, you will all be ended, including those with petulant disrespect on their tongues.“

Over time, Caius’s cold exterior began to show cracks. He would linger in the shadows, watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. He began to ask subtle questions about your past, your interests, your fears. At first, his inquiries felt like an interrogation, but gradually, you realized he was trying to understand you.

One evening, as you sat in the castle’s vast library, he appeared without warning. “Why do you always sit here?” he asked, his tone less sharp than usual.

You looked up from the book in your lap, startled. “It’s quiet,” you said simply. “And the view of the gardens is beautiful.”

He said nothing, his gaze drifting to the window. After a moment, he sat in the chair across from you, his presence both unsettling and strangely comforting. “Beauty is fleeting,” he said, almost to himself. “But you… you endure.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t know how to respond. Before you could find your voice, he stood and left, his cloak swishing behind him.

As time passed, his moments of softness got more frequent, but always shocking to you. Though you spent most of your time alone, more and more often you found that Caius would join you in a room, sitting across it and speaking to you softly. It was almost like he didn't dare to touch you, in fear that you'd break.

For the past three days, you hadn't seen him. He was engrossed in a lengthy trial, one of the betrayal of a coven that was close in affairs to the Volturi. It was complicated and required much contemplation by the Kings and the Guard -- so you didn't think too poorly of Caius for not finding time to see you. You didn't ever expect anything from Caius. He was in a dominant position over you and came and went as he wished. But, luck would have it, you'd fallen extremely ill the first night you hadn't seen him for dinner.

The human secretary, Janine, that was tasked with checking on you when Caius was busy wasn't the most.. intelligent.. caretaker. In fact, in your sick delirium, you'd had only one accurate thought. If Caius caught wind of how she'd been caring for you, she'd be swiftly killed. After all, she hadn't even informed Caius of your illness.

The cool, marble walls of your quarters seemed to trap the heat radiating from your fever-ridden body, amplifying your misery. You lay in bed, tangled in damp sheets that stuck to your skin, every muscle in your body aching as though you had been trampled. The room blurred and swam before your eyes, but even through the fog of your illness, you registered the sound of the door creaking open.

Janine strolled in, carrying a water pitcher and a single glass with a dismissive air. She placed them carelessly on the table beside your bed, the loud clink making you wince. “Here,” she said flatly. “Drink some water. That’s all you need.”

You blinked sluggishly at her, the effort it took to keep your eyes open making your head throb worse. The room tilted for a moment before settling, but the indifference in her tone didn’t escape you. Her presence, the lack of care in her movements, and the words themselves grated against your already fragile state. You'd known Janine was full of jealousy -- jealous of your position. You were given almost anything you wanted, though you didn't request much, but.. You were to be the wife of one of the Kings eventually. It was enough to make her distaste for you grow with every second.

You felt like death was going to come over you if you didn't at least receive something for your pain, though. You knew you needed to speak up.

"Janine. I need something stronger."

She sighed loudly, as though your request were an inconvenience rather than a genuine cry for help. “You’re just feverish,” she said dismissively, straightening her posture as if to emphasize her superiority in the moment. “Drink the water and rest. You’ll get over it.”

Her lack of empathy left you stunned. The world swirled around you, the fever clouding your ability to argue or even react properly. You managed a faint whisper, one you weren’t sure she even heard. “If Caius knew…”

She froze for the briefest of moments before her lip curled into a smirk. “Caius isn’t here, is he? He has far more important matters to attend to than a sick little human. Just be grateful he even allows you to stay here.”

The tone in her voice felt like a slap, but you lacked the energy to do more than close your eyes and turn your face away. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, exhaustion overcoming you. If you were less weak, you would have slapped her. But you couldn't even will yourself to get out of bed.

As Janine turned to leave, the door slammed open with such force that it rattled on its hinges. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, the air growing heavier as an unmistakable presence filled the space.

It was a positive for you for the first time in the months you'd been at the castle. You knew who it was, of course. Caius's entrance into a room was always felt by everybody in it. Usually, it made you slightly anxious and a bit more self-conscious, but now, relief washed over you in waves.

“Janine.” Caius’s voice was low, cold, and lethally calm, each syllable a knife’s edge. It still held its usual venom, though. Enough to make you sting for hours after hearing it.

The blood drained from Janine’s face as she spun around, her smirk vanishing instantly. “My lord,” she stammered, attempting a clumsy curtsy. “I was just--”

“You were neglecting your duties,” Caius interrupted, stepping into the room with deliberate, measured strides. His crimson eyes flicked to you, narrowing at your pale, fever-flushed face and trembling frame. “What. Has. Happened?”

Janine opened her mouth to respond, but her voice faltered under his glare. “She’s… unwell,” she finally managed. “I brought her water--”

Caius’s lips curled into a snarl, cutting her off. “You call this care? Leaving her to suffer, unattended, as though she is some insignificant pest?”

“My lord, I--”

“Enough.” The word was sharp and final, and the weight of his authority silenced her completely. His focus shifted entirely to you as he crossed the room in two swift steps.

He sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and his icy hand brushed against your burning forehead. You flinched slightly at the stark contrast, but the relief was instant. His expression hardened further as he assessed your condition.

“Why did you not call for me?” he asked, his voice gentler now but still tinged with frustration.

You swallowed hard, the effort painful. “Didn't.. want to bother you,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the last word. “Janine was here to check on me, and I thought your trial needed more of your attention than I did.”

Caius’s crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He stayed silent for a moment, as though trying to process your words, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze boring into yours. His hand, still cool against your fevered skin, shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over your temple with a gentleness you hadn’t thought him capable of.

“You thought wrong,” he said, his voice low but resolute, the frustration in his tone undercut by a strange softness. “Nothing -- no one -- is more deserving of my attention than you, especially in such a state.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by both the intensity and the tenderness in his words. Caius was not one to admit weakness or vulnerability, yet here he was, clearly affected by your condition.

“You… have responsibilities,” you murmured weakly, though it was hard to hold his gaze with the weight of his emotion bearing down on you.

“And you are one of them,” he interrupted sharply, though not unkindly. “Do not mistake my obligations for distractions. Your well-being is of paramount importance to me. More so than you seem to realize.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, though whether from the remnants of the fever or the weight of his words, you couldn’t tell. Before you could muster a response, Caius glanced toward the door, his expression hardening.

“I trusted Janine to care for you, and for that, I hold her failure in the highest contempt,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “Her negligence is inexcusable, and she will not escape retribution.”

“Caius” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t… hurt her. She didn’t mean--”

“She failed you,” Caius cut in, his tone steely, though his gaze softened when it returned to your face. “And for that, there will be consequences. But that is no longer your concern.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, realizing there was no use arguing. Caius’s mind was set, as it always was when matters of justice -- or vengeance -- were involved.

He seemed to sense your unease, his expression softening further as he leaned closer, his other hand coming to rest lightly on the bed beside you. “You are too kind, even to those who do not deserve it,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “But I will not allow kindness to become a vulnerability that others exploit. Not while you are under my care.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, the effort of staying awake and coherent starting to take its toll. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his words, as harsh as they might have seemed. For all his coldness and cruelty to others, there was something fiercely protective in the way Caius regarded you -- something that made you feel safe, even now.

"Caius?" You gained the courage to ask quietly, willing yourself to open your eyes again. You studied his beautiful, porcelain face, his white blonde hair. His pale pink lips. "Um.. Does it bother you? Me being human?"

Caius stilled at your question, his sharp features momentarily unreadable. His crimson eyes, softened only slightly by the flickering candlelight, locked with yours. For a moment, you worried you had overstepped, that your curiosity had breached some unspoken boundary.

But then he leaned back slightly, his expression shifting into something contemplative. “Bother me?” he echoed, his voice calm, though his words carried a weight that made your heart quicken. “Your humanity is… an inconvenience at times, yes. But that is not the same as being a bother.”

You blinked, unsure how to interpret his words. “What do you mean?”

Caius’s gaze flicked away briefly, a rare hesitation crossing his face before he returned his attention to you. “It is not your fault that you are fragile,” he began, his tone measured as though choosing his words with care. “Fragility is inherent to your kind. It is… difficult, at times, to reconcile your mortality with the attachment I find myself unwillingly forming.”

Your breath caught at his admission, and you weren’t sure if it was the fever or the weight of his words making your head spin. “Attachment?”

Caius’s jaw tightened briefly, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, though not in anger. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he said, though his words lacked their usual bite. “You are... significant to me in ways I have yet to fully understand. But your humanity complicates matters.”

He leaned forward again, his cold hand brushing against your cheek with a surprising gentleness. “You are weak, delicate, mortal,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And yet, despite every reason I should have to resent your presence, I find myself... drawn to you. It defies logic.”

His words left you stunned, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with your fever. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he might be mocking you, but there was none. Caius was earnest, his piercing gaze unwavering as he awaited your response.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice catching you by surprise. “I don’t want my humanity to be… a weakness.”

Caius’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression softening in a way that was almost imperceptible. “Your humanity is not a weakness, unlike most humans,” he said firmly. “If anything, it is a testament to your resilience. You endure pain, illness, and fear, yet you continue to fight. That is not weakness -- it is strength.”

The intensity of his words left you speechless, your throat tightening as you fought back the surge of emotion they stirred. Caius’s hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he withdrew, his gaze flicking briefly to the water pitcher on the table.

“You should drink,” he said, his tone softening further. “You need your strength to recover.”

You nodded faintly, your body too weak to do much else. As Caius poured the water with a grace that seemed almost surreal, you couldn’t help but marvel at the strange contradiction that he was -- a cold and unyielding king who had somehow become your most unlikely protector.

When he handed you the glass, his fingers brushing yours briefly, you whispered, “Thank you, Caius.”

For a moment, something in his expression shifted—an almost imperceptible crack in his icy exterior. “Rest,” he said, his voice carrying a softness that was as shocking as it was comforting. “You are safe here. I will see to that.”

As you drank the cool water and settled back into the pillows, the warmth of his presence lingered, chasing away the chill that had settled in your bones. Despite his protests and denials, Caius was proving to be more than the fearsome king you had once thought him to be. He was something far more complex -- and far more human.

You eventually fell asleep, stirring only when you got too warm or too cold. Although not awake, you could feel Caius's presence. If he sensed that you were too hot, he laid a gentle hand on your forehead, cooling you down. If he felt you shiver, he lifted the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to spread their warmth across your body. You almost thought you could hear his voice, just before you fell into an uninterrupted, finally comfortable sleep.

“Such beauty. Such compassion. A gift for a king that deserved much less than you,” He murmured, almost inaudibly. He seemed to be speaking to himself, not you. His voice was like a prayer that lingered in the silence of the room. “You don’t belong in this world of darkness, Y/n. You are light, fragile and fleeting, burning brighter than I deserve. But still, here you are. A puzzle I cannot solve… and yet I do not wish to.”

The warmth of his words settled over you like a protective veil, and you couldn’t help but sigh in your sleep, comforted by the quiet intensity of his presence. There was something deeply private in what he had said, something he hadn’t intended for you to hear. But it didn’t matter. In that moment, despite everything -- the coldness, the darkness, the endless uncertainty -- you felt something unexplainable stir within you.

For the first time since your arrival in the Volturi’s lair, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility that you might not be alone here, after all.