#i swear to god they are setting their blog up but they are amazing

[dhampirslays]

I finally corrupted my cool uncle to make a tumblr so whether you are tvd based ( or not ) go ahead and give this amazing Kol a follow. Promise you they are amazing !@insaniary

[gojorgeous]

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 

 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 

“Yes… Thank you.” 

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 

“Take care.” 

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 

“N-no–” 

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 

“‘M following your scent, baby.” 

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 

“You on birth control, baby?” 

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…” 

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000

link: alpha!geto

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[alphajocklover]

I’ve always been a nerdy guy and did theater in high school. But I always wished I could be a big hot jock. Do you think you could send me back and make me a huge muscular horny wrestler jock or something?

You want me to send you back? As in, take you back in time, or as in deage you back to highschool age? I’m going to be honest, I really hope you’re just asking me to deage you, because time travel can get so fucking complicated. Plus, being a teenager today is a lot better than being a teenager in the past. Obviously not everything is better than it was before. There's been an increase in school violence overtime, and well I can’t prove it, I swear to god that they give kids more homework every year. But if you went to the past you wouldn’t have the internet or social media, and I have a feeling those are going to come in handy later. So, let's just deage you. 

You might notice you’re not actually that much younger. You were 22 before, right? Well I know you probably wanted to be deaged into a freshman and experience all of highschool as a hunk, but as a rule I don’t transform anyone under 18, and that includes deaging someone to be under 18. 18 is the lowest I’ll go. Plus, everyone knows senior year is the best year of high school. There's less stress, more fun, and unless you’re a major loser you’re automatically cooler than anyone in the grades below you. And you, the new you, are anything but a loser. See, while I won’t deage you past 18, I can still change your past. In this new reality I’m creating for you, you’re not a theater kid. You’ve never been anything close to a theater kid. You’re not even just a wrestling jock. You’re a fucking wrestling prodigy. You’ve been huge, incredibly huge, ever since you were a kid. No ones quite sure how it happened. One day you just started to shoot up and out, and never seemed to stop. Your middle school wrestling coach noticed your potential, and ever since you’ve been dedicated to wrestling. As time has gone on you’ve only gotten larger and larger. Most kids who go through an early growth spurt end up small, but not you. Every year you get taller, hairier, and beefier. Every year you get fucking better, and you’re well aware of it.

Now, you’re an 18 year old stud, the big man on campus. You dominate the ring, and everywhere else you go. You’re the kind of guy who gets anything you want by virtue of your being. The kind of guy who has been worshiped by the school, students and teachers alike, because of your athletic prowess. The kind of guy who fucks a twink in the locker room after every wrestling practice. You’re exactly the manly, horny, wrestling jock you used to fantasize about being. The kind of guy who would never have paid attention to someone like the old you, because he’s just that worthless in comparison.

I hope you enjoy your new life. I set up an instagram account for you to show off your amazing self. I figured you’d do great on instagram, and from the amount of likes your first post is getting, I can safely say I was right. Enjoy your new life. Soon you’ll outgrow this small town and highschool and go on to rule your college with a manly iron fist. I can’t wait to watch. **Hey guys! Been a bit! Got really busy but don't worry, I'm keeping at it with this blog. Hope you guys like it!**

[crookedteethed]

Just discovered your blog and the startlet reader fic was amazing, I can totally see that becoming a series!!! Idk if you're into it but can I request an even darker fic related to that one shot, where producer!rafe does take her in as his own, but he's really mean and toxic to her?

Hope you have a good day 💗💗

A/N: Ahhh thank you for the request! 💕 I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Producer! Rafe fic, and I hope you have an even better day!! producer!rafe is literally the king of mind fucking reader in this 😭

Pairing: pornproducer!rafecameron x starlet!reader

Warnings: 18+ Oral (male receiving) + (mentions of fem receiving) con-non-con, drug usage, cursing, Rafe slaps reader with his dick, praise kink, power imbalance, Possessive!Rafe, reader is a p*rnstar, Rafe is a delulu asshole, slut shaming, low-key I think Rafe likes seeing reader have sex with other men but want to shame her for it : (

As your male co-star's plump lips encircled your swollen bud, you couldn't help but feel unease at the ominous gaze that appeared to track your every move, the gaze belonging to Rafe Cameron.

Rafe's intense body language clearly communicated frustration and anger, creating an intimidating presence on set. His cerulean eyes turned dark, and his puffed-out chest conveyed a sense of power and dominance, making it clear that he was not to be crossed. 

You didn't know what you were doing wrong. 

Could I be too lifeless? you think, leading you to arch your back from your co-star's touch, run your hands through his perfect Ken doll hair, and tell him, "How amazing this feels." This then prompted Rafe to call it "cut."

You were given a silk bathrobe to use as a cover, and a water bottle was offered to you before you departed the set, designed to resemble a feminine bedroom's interior.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stumbled upon Rafe, sitting on the couch in your trailer--doing a line of coke on the porcelain heart-shaped tray you brought from home. 

More so shocked to see him doing lines, not shocked to see him inside your trailer because he was always sniffing around your trailer and seeing what you were up to between breaks. 

You're the first to speak: 

"Whatever it is I'm doing wrong, I swear I'll do better on the next take, please don't fire me." 

The bustling nerves, the bright lights, and the presence of the camera all contributed to your performance feeling surreal in the moment. Now, as you stand before a visibly and deeply disappointed Rafe, you can understand why he appeared so frustrated.

Rafe scoffs. And through hooded eyes, he cuts another line with the credit card in his hand before he goes nose-first into the white powder. 

"I bet you fucking like that shit." he sniffs. 

The sensation of tiny insects crawling on your skin commenced, and before you had the chance to inquire, a response was already pouring out of Rafe's mouth: 

"You like having him fuck you." He spits. 

You were confused, to say the least, because when it came to your films, Rafe had a preference for only allowing oral activities rather than penetrative sex due to his belief that "Pretty girls don't do disgusting things."

"Rafe what are you talking ab--" The limited confines of your trailer emphasize Rafe's larger stature as he rises, interrupting your interaction.

"Fucking come here." He snatches your forearm in a bruising grip, hurling you onto the couch. 

He looms over you, his powerful physique obstructing any chance of you moving.

"Rafe, please--," you say, squirming as he forcefully removes your bathrobe, his strong hand then trailing down to cup your cunt. He seizes control of your body. 

"You're wet." He states. "You're fucking wet." He says again, this time with a laugh that lacks genuine amusement. 

"God, you're such a slut." He says, his calloused fingers cradling the edge of your chin, tilting your head up so his cerulean color eyes meet your glossy ones. 

"Always wanting it." he says insincerely. "That's why you really wanted to become a 'star', not because of fame, but because you always want your pretty hole dicked down." He spits. 

"No, I swear." You whimper.

Rafe's thumb wipes the tears that fall from the apple of your cheek, and he fakes a pout. 

"Somehow, I don't believe you." He says in a phony whimper that sounds similar to yours. 

"Y'know I can have you fired for some shit like this?" He says, back in his tantalizing tone. 

"Please Don't--" you choke over a sob. 

"I can fucking blackball your ass, make sure no one sees your name in the big spotlights." 

You were so close to achieving fame, with it practically within your grasp, your fingers nearly grazing the prize, only for it to be taken away at the last moment.

"Rafe, I swear I'll do better. Please don't do this to me," you say between choked cries. You start to forget what the dispute is about, but all you know is that your career is in jeopardy, and you must do anything to protect it. 

"Prove it to me," Rafe says. His favorite four words. "Prove to me you'll do better."

His blown-out eyes motioned down to his bulging cock. 

You blink slowly at him. 

His hand once cradled your chin, then yanks on your hair. 

Hastily, your trembling fingers work to undo his belt, your slender digits encircling the sturdy leather.

The moment your fingers unfastened his belt and tugged on the waistband of his jeans, Rafe's finger, still intertwined with your hair, pulled on it as he muttered impatiently, "Hurry up."

For the sake of your career, you obeyed Rafe's commands, freeing his hardened cock from the confinements of his briefs. 

Your body does that thing again when it goes against you, similar to what it did when your co-star was eating you out; your mouth waters at the sight of Rafe's hard pink cock. 

For one second, you look up at Rafe with wide, doe, teary eyes; it's a silent cry for help, hoping he sees your distraught state and thinks to himself that you could do no wrong. 

To your dismay, Rafe finds your pathetic look amusing, which only turns him on even more. With the movement of his pelvis, he uses his reddened—mushroomed—tip to slap your cheek lightly, snapping you back into the moment. 

Before putting him whole into your mouth, you slide his cock in between your lips slowly, flicking your tongue under the head of his dick where it meets his shaft.

Rafe winces at the feeling your slobbery tongue, praising you about how much of a "good slut" you are.  This urges you to take him whole, his wet, girthy length sitting in your mouth, weighing down your tongue. Rafe again yanks your hair, whispering, "I thought I told you to hurry up." 

And with the same hand that previously yanked on your hair, Rafe guided your head in a fast-paced—throat-burning—motion—his dick now effortlessly sliding in and out your throat.

The girth of his member gradually penetrated deeper into the back of your mouth with each bob of his splayed hand.

As Rafe started thrusting his pelvis into you, the sound of your strained throat was the sole audible noise emanating from your trailer:

"glug, glug, glug."

Rafe mumbles something to you, something about how he'd be an idiot to let you go, not with a pussy and mouth like this. However, all you can focus on is the discomfort in your mouth, how Rafe's size grows with each movement, and how you keep pressing your nails into Rafe's exposed thighs because you feel like you're struggling to breathe.

Your body was filled with conflicting sensations, pleasure, and discomfort. The burning in your throat and the soreness in your mouth were reminders of the intensity of the encounter. Yet, amidst the physical pain, an undeniable pleasure coursed through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Which causes you to moan when Rafe announces that he is about to cum. 

You felt your eyes start to water as you gagged around him, your throat tightening. Rafe's grip tightened, his thrusts more intense as he came, his orgasm ripping through him. You continued to swallow around him, your throat burning and sore as he finished.

"Swallow it." He spits at you, his warm, thick seeds sludge down your gullet. 

This wouldn't be the first time Rafe came inside of you, so you happily swallowed his cum, opening your mouth wide to him to show your proof. 

"What did I tell you, always fucking wanting it." He smirks at you as he fixes himself. You wipe the drool and caress your draw as he does so. 

Then, to your surprise, Rafe takes your jaw in his fingers again and brings you into a passionate, sloppy kiss--tongue and all. 

"You do know that you're my favorite girl, right?" He says, a boyish smile tugged on his lips. "My star girl." 

The sudden change in Rafe's behavior left you feeling conflicted and uncertain. Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation, questioning your desires and boundaries. It was a stark reminder of the complexity of human emotions and the blurred lines between pleasure and discomfort.

"So you're not going to get rid of me?" you squeak.

"Baby, I'm never letting you go; you're stuck with me." He says this in a lighthearted manner, but his words hold a much more profound significance than they may initially appear.

But who really has time to dissect every word Rafe says? After all, your career was saved, and you had nothing to fret about anymore. 

So, as you and Rafe walked back to set, Rafe's arm wrapped around your side, you had to regain your composure quickly and smile as if you could do the take all over again.

You knew you had to stay in character, and your reaction had to be perfect. You had to ensure Rafe was satisfied with the result and that you would remain a star, whatever it may take.

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[bloodwrittenballad]

Sweet And Sinful Surprise | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: In which you finally get to show Bradley the nipple piercings you got in secret while he was gone on deployment… and lets just say he really fucking likes them

Warnings: Smut, bradley “pussy eating champ” bradshaw, lots of boob love, swearing, praise, soft but also kinda rough sex. just roo lovin on his lady. 18+ ONLY, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS GET BLOCKED!!! as always, feedback is appreciated. also, writing this made me want to get my nipples pierced more than I already did before

Looking at the clock hung above the kitchen sink, you smiled as you read it was almost six thirty. Almost there, you thought with much anticipation. Any minute now, and Bradley would come tumbling through the door of your shared home.

You couldn’t wait.

It’s been six months since you last saw Bradley, you missed him dearly. Deployments were always hard on both of you, this one being no different as you longed to see each other again. Six months of not seeing him, kissing him, touching him… That was painful.

You always tried your best to keep yourself occupied and useful when he was gone, using the time you weren’t at work or running errands to try out new recipes and perfect them, starting up new hobbies - only to abandon them shorty after - you even had a habit of changing up your appearance every once in a while as a little surprise for him.

This time was no different. Six months since you last seen Bradley, and six months since the best decision you’ve ever made - other than dating Bradley, of course. Getting your nipples pierced had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, but the idea had been there a while, you just never thought you’d actually go along with it.

However, a few days after Bradley left for deployment, you found yourself bored. How you came to the conclusion that getting your nipples pierced then was a good idea, you’re not sure. But in the end it turned out to be perfect, because now they were fully healed and ready to go for tonight.

Finishing the last few touches on the dinner you made for Bradley’s arrival, you sat the table and lit a few candles. Then you waited. It was a short time, but nonetheless it felt torturous. Finally, at seven on the dot, the sound of the front door opening and closing caught your attention. “Honey, I’m hoooome!” Bradley’s voice rang out.

A squeal ripped through you as you ran towards him, barely giving him enough time to drop his bags before flinging yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease, welcoming you into your embrace as he held you tight, kissing your head and savoring your scent.

“Missed you so much,” you mumbled against his chest. “Missed you too, baby.” He said, pulling away just enough to kiss you. You immediately returned the kiss, falling closer into him if that was even possible. He moaned, having missed the way your lips felt on his. “God, wanted to do that f’so long now.” Bradley spoke once the kiss was broken.

You smiled up at him, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand. You led him to the kitchen, where the dinner you had made was set up on the table with wine glasses at the ready. “I made your favorite.” You whispered, hand still in his as you began leading him to the table. But before you could, Bradley was pulling you into your arms again.

“As much as that sounds and smells amazing, there’s something else I’d much rather eat right now.” His lips nipped at the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp. “Bradley Bradshaw! I go through all the trouble of making you a nice dinner for your welcome home and all you can think about is sex?” You laughed.

“Cant help it, baby. Been thinking ‘bout that pretty little pussy and how much I couldn’t wait until it was mine again.” Warmth and wetness immediately began to pool at his words, you moaned. “So, what do you say? Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

Without much to think on, you said; “fuck it, dinner can wait. Wanna show you something anyways.”

“Oh?” Bradley spoke, clearly intrigued as he slowly backed the two of you into the bedroom. “Uh huh, but you’re just gonna have to wait and see.” With that, the two of you found yourselves in a messy make out. You sat on his lap, hands in his hair while his hands roamed your body, both of you grinding and whining and needing more.

“Clothes. Off. Now.” You said throughout kisses, only breaking apart when Bradley disposed of his shirt. The tan skin immediately had your attention as you palmed against his muscular torso. His pants came off next, as did yours, leaving you both in your underwear. Well, almost.

Bradley bundled up the shirt you still wore in his fists, a small frown on his face. “No fair,” he said which caused you to smile and life. “That’s just apart of the surprise, baby. Gotta be patient.” Bradley groaned.

“Don’t wanna be patient, just wanna fuck my girlfriend.” He said, and you let out another small laugh before shaking your head and discarding the thin fabric. “Alright, there you go, you big baby.”

Now you were left in your bra, the lacy fabric you bought for tonight had Bradley’s eyes wide as he ogled the sight of your breasts. “Is that my surprise?” he asked, licking his lips and clearly liking what he saw. A smirk rose to your lips, “part of it.” you spoke, and his eyes somehow grew wider. “There’s more?” Asked Bradley, and instead of answering, you just slowly slipped the bra off and let it hit the floor.

As soon as it did and you were fully exposed, Bradley’s face soon resembled that of a kid on Christmas morning. He was stunned to pure amazement as he stared at you, more so at your breasts and the little piercings that adorned them.

“Holy shit,” was all he managed. “Fuck.”

“You like what you see?” You asked, knowing he did but also feeling slightly nervous that there was a small possibility he didn’t. But before you could let any other thought like that pass, Bradley asked;

“Can I touch them?” His hands were laying flat on the bed, but you could see them twitching with desperation and need. “Yeah, baby. You can touch them.” Without needing anymore permission, Bradley’s hands reached up to grab at your chest.

The second his rough and calloused hands met your skin, you moaned. It was a delightful feeling, and he was being so gentle, but you needed more. Reaching up with your own hand, you helped guide his. “You can be more rough, baby. It’s okay. See, like this.” With your help, Bradley’s hands tightened their grip.

“God, s’hot. Fuck, you’re amazing.” Bradley praised, eyes still wide in amazement as he looked up from your chest and into your eyes. You smiled, kissing him lightly. He stayed like that for a while, kissing you while playing with your breasts and really getting a feel for his favorite new addition to your body, while you slowly grinded against him.

Your moans and his hums of fascination were the only noise going on in the room, before Bradley asked once more that night; “can I put them in my mouth?” The outright neediness and desperation in his voice had you moaning even more as you nodded.

And, just like that, he wasted no time.

“Fuuuuuck baby,” Bradley groaned against the skin of your exposed chest, his breath hot against you he took one of them into his mouth and kneaded the other. His free hand worked on your nipple with expertise, flicking and pinching the hardened flesh gently. Meanwhile, the one in his mouth was getting sucked and tugged on gently by his teeth. Moans and pleas left your lips in a prayer, worshiping him like he was a god and he was blessing you with his skilled touches.

“Love these tits so much, so big and pretty. All mine.” The praise made you light headed, his words going through you like helium as he lifted you with filthy sweet nothings. “And these piercings,” Bradley’s tongue flicked the one on your left breast, soon moving to the right. “So fucking sexy, baby girl.”

He continued showering you with love, paying the most attention to your sensitive nipples, as he kissed down the valley of your breasts to the warm skin of your stomach before finally reaching the inside of your thighs. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, situating himself between them and getting more than comfortable.

His lips left fluttering kisses up and down your legs, the rough feeling of his mustache making you hotter and wetter as each second passed. “Oh, god, baby. Bradley, fuck, need you so bad!” you moaned, begs and whimpers you couldn’t hold back ringing out in the room as Bradley moved back up to your thighs.

He kissed and sucked at the gentle skin, nose bumping against your clit. Your back arched, every nerve on fire the closer he got to the place you so desperately needed to be touched. “Can’t wait to eat this sweet little pussy, been thinking about it nonstop ever since I left.” Bradley said in mumbles, you whined at the confession. “Then stop wasting time and start doing,” you cooed in great anticipation

Bradley smirked against your thighs, loving the way they clenched around his head. “Yes ma’am,” he grinned. With that, he was pulling down your panties. His tongue flattened against your now exposed pussy, sending a flurry of wonderful sensations all throughout you. Bradley ate you like a man starved, mouth never stopping it’s delightful pace as he licked and sucked at your puffy clit.

“Tastes so good, babygirl. So sweet, fuckin needed this.” He complimented, never faltering in how well he lapped at your juices. And you, god you were the picture of perfection. How you moaned so pretty, face twisted in pleasure while your back arched and your breasts bounced when you did so. “Need more,” you cried out. His fingers were one of the only things on your mind, had been for months. You craved them

“Whatcha need, sweet girl?” Bradley asked you, his eyes capturing yours as he looked up from between your thighs. “Your fingers!” you moaned, breathless and needy. “Where do you want ‘em?” he asked, a smirk on his face. Because he knew. He knew exactly what you wanted, but he wanted to hear it. Hear the desperation in your voice as you begged him to fuck you with his thick fingers. “In-inside! Please!” you mewed.

“Anything for you,” he promised. It was like pure, hot electricity. The way he began with his fingers sliding up and down your slit, collecting your slick and rubbing it around, before slowly beginning to sink his fingers inside you with ease. “God, fuck, so tight.” He groaned, loving the way your walls welcomed him in with warmth and how they squeezed around his fingers.

“Fuck, yeah, Brad. That’s it, right there!” crying out in untamed ecstasy, when his fingers curled into you and he quickened his pace. “You’re close,” he noted. Bradley knew you like the back of his hand, the telltale signs of your appending orgasm were easy to spot. Sometimes he knew you were close before you did, and right now, he was on the bullseye.

Your breathing was labored, eyes blown out and wide, skin glowing. You were about to let go at any second, right onto his fingers and tongue. Latching himself to your clit, he sucked hard while his fingers went fast. And then… stars. Beautiful, bright stars danced in your vision as you came.

“Christ, babygirl!” Bradley chuckled, hand lightly slapping the inside of your thigh. Dazed and still coming down from your orgasm, you managed to lift your head with a small, “huh?” Looking at Bradley through half lidded, heavy eyes you couldn’t stop the heat that rose to your cheeks once you saw what made him laugh. He was soaking wet.

His face down to his chest was covered in your juices, the shiny sight of him making you clench with need at the proud look on his face. “You made quite a mess, baby.” He teased, licking his lips and savoring the taste. You let out a breathy moan, watching as he stood before you, tall and covered in you.

Bradley only continued to smirk down at you, loving the way your eyes filtered around his body with eyes that grew more and more in desperation. “Like what you see, darling?” He asked, knowing damn well that you did. You nodded, so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “S’much, Bradley. Look s’sexy like that, covered in my cum. Wanna be covered in yours next!” You whined. “That can most certainly be arranged,” Bradley spoke, before climbing ontop of you.

His lips caught yours once more that evening, both of your hands roaming the others body as you two moaned. “Want your cock, Bradley. Need it so bad, need to feel it inside of me.” And God, if he wasn’t already rock hard, he would be now just from hearing you say that. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get it. Imma give it t’ya now.” He promised, his lips on your neck while he did so. “Spread your legs f’me. That’s it, keep those pretty little thighs open, just like that.”

He was so gentle in the way he positioned himself in between your thighs once more, this time with his cock as he slowly parted your lips to gather your wetness. Then, he sunk in with one fell swoop.

Both of you groaned at the contact, Bradley slowly fucking your and filling you with a pleasure so delicious. You threw your head back on the pillow, eyes shut tight as he began to speed up his pace. Wrapping your legs around his waste so there was so space in between, his balls hitting your clit with passionate force. Now it was Bradley’s turn to throw his head back, moaning and cursing at the way you clenched around his cock. “Such a good pussy, such a good girl. How did I ever get this lucky?” He asked, looking down at you with so much love.

Needing to kiss you, he gently scooped you up into his arms so you were now chest to chest. The cold prick of metal on his skin from your piercings felt so good, digging into him as he kissed you. Your heavy breathing was swallowed by his tongue going into your mouth, your nails scratching down his back when he pounded into you. Both of you were so close, it could be told by the messy kissing and the way your pussy squeezed him tightly.

“Close,” was all you managed to get out. Bradley nodded, “me too, baby. Me too.” He gritted out, and you held onto him as tight as possible. “Want you to. come on my tits.” You mumbled against his neck, not missing the shudder that tore through him at your words. He quickened his pace, coasting you through your orgasm that left you buzzing, before quickly pulling out to his expel his own release.

He gently laid you back down on the bed, giving himself a few pumps with his hand before hit hot and sticky cum hit your chest. He watched in amazement at the mess, your perky nipples now painted white.

Your fingers came up to your breasts, swirling the cum around your nipples and chest before popping them into your mouth. Bradley watched with bated breath as you sucked on your own fingers, seemingly savoring every last drop before you released your fingers from your swollen lips with a pop. “Jesus christ,” Bradley swore. “Now that, is what I call a welcome home.”

[savi0rr]

Heyy!! I’m super new to your blog and I just read “Red Handed”, so good! Would you be willing to make a part two of it? I’m not sure what direction you’d take it, but your writing is absolutely amazing and I have no doubt you could do it! If not, no worries! Ignore this request entirely

Thank you sm!!

-anon

You Again?!

- Part Two of ‘Red Handed’

a/n: oh my god hi anon!! welcome!! I WOULD LOVE TO PART TWO!! I was actually thinking it, so thank you for requesting!

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

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You had completely forgotten about the whole incident with Stone. Not bothering to lay any mind to it.

You happily walked down the street of Entertainment Square, watching street performers along with rich people waltzing down the streets. Yes you were one of them—but you weren’t some entitled rich person.

You walked down the street around the corner and went into a line for a coffee shop. It was getting crowded, easy for pickpocketing.

Stone watched you from afar, he remembered you. Of course he would—why wouldn’t he? You had caught him in the act. It was definitely wasn’t because of your face. No—not your face that he doesn’t have a picture of you in his head all the time.

Stone began to sneak through the crowd, being completely unnoticed by everyone. He stood behind you quietly, sneaking his hand into your brand new bag. His hand accidentally brushing against your wait, making you shiver. You looked behind you, your eyes widened.

“You…again?!” You gasped, your eyebrows furrowed. Stone only stared at you, in shock but not much has much when he first meant you. He took out a brand new set of sunglasses you had just bought. “Thanks for my dinner.” He muttered, before he quickly disappeared into the crowd.

“Hey!” You spoke up. You weren’t gonna let him get away again. So—you quickly try to run after him. Pushing through people has you try to keep up with him. “I swear—!” “Can’t catch me?” Stone smirked as he ran around a corner, running into an alleyway.

You were too slow. You blinked in confusion. “What—where did he go?!” You groaned as you slightly stomped your foot. Stone took in deep breaths as he watched you from the shadows. His gaze on you, never leaving it.

“If I swear his face again I swear…” You mutter, before you walked back where you came from, sulking and upset.

Stone looked down at the pair of sunglasses he took from you, his face softened. “Well..at least I got some dinner from the rich pretty lady.”

[raewritesfiction]

Wanna Find Out? [Alexander Skarsgard]

A/N: fleshing out a quick idea. Sorry for the formatting, I’m on mobile.

Plot: getting drunk with good friend Alex and a question arises.

Pairing: Alexander Skarsgard X Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Oral (M & F receiving), Unprotected sex (always use a condom!), Alcohol

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @thegreatlarryfisherman @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikkikrash @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @sycochick @ravenmoore14 @heywhatssgood @purplerain85 @rockifresa @askarslibrary @1-800-imagines @venusbabysblog

—

Your day had been shitty but your evening was going much better as you had steadily gotten a little happy drunk with your friend Alex, relaxing on his sofa with random bad movies playing in the background as you set the world to rights and talked absolute bullshit.

Alex shuffles and sinks down, his head resting on the sofa back as you watched another horror with predictable teens getting drunk, fucking and then murdered before anyone could do anything. You could swear you’d seen it before but it could just be it was so similar to the previous one.

You tilt your head as a full frontal of a man comes on screen and you raise an eyebrow. “No way is that real… gotta be prosthetic.”

Alex chuckles and swigs his beer “maybe…. Dunno. He could just be an elephant.”

You laugh and finish your drink “….so what about you? I’ve seen Big Little Lies… was yours a prosthetic?” You pour another glass and can feel Alex’s eyes on your back but you don’t turn to look at him as you lean back.

“You wanna find out?” He raises an eyebrow and looks over to you.

Your glass rests on your lip as you blink and turn to meet his gaze “oh? That easy? I just had to ask?”

“Yup…” he nods and swigs his beer, finishing the bottle.

“Okay.. okay then.” You down your whiskey “whip it out..”

Alex puts his bottle down and pushes down his sweatpants to free himself. Apparently he had forgone underwear for comfort. Your eyes wander down from his face to his cock and you can’t help but let out a gasp “oh… no… no prosthetic needed.” You lick your lips at the sight and shuffle to face him.

“Nope…” he shakes his head and smirks “never needed one… though I will say it was damn cold in True Blood!” He goes to pull his sweats back up but you stop him, “no need to cover up so soon…”

“Oh..?” He raises an eyebrow and watches you shuffle to face him and lean down, dragging your tongue down his length. “Oh!”

You hum, wrapping your hand around him and lick the tip into your mouth, sucking lightly and feeling him harden under your touch. Alex groans quietly and moves his hips to your mouth as you slowly take him deeper into your mouth until he couldn’t go any further. Deepthroating was not your forte so your hand would have to make do for what your mouth couldn’t take.

He doesn’t seem to mind as you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him making him moan louder, a hand threading into your hair while the other grips the armrest of the sofa. You look up under your lashes and watch his chest rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes, a moan on every exhale. You massage his balls with your other hand and draw out a low low growl from him, his hips bucking into your mouth and almost making you choke. Almost. He settles his hips again and pants heavily as your mouth works along his length, around the head and your tongue teases the slit.

You moan around him, barely able to open your mouth wide enough to take him you pull away briefly and pant before sucking around the head and jerking his length with your hand. He stutters and groans pulling you away fully “god fuck, not yet…”

You wipe the corners of your mouth and watch him crawl over you, pinning you down to the sofa and kissing you passionately. His lips move over your jaw and neck while he pulls at your strap top, freeing your tits for his teasing amusement. Just as Alex had gone sans underwear, your idea of comfort didn’t include a bra.

Massaging and kneading while he kisses and sucks on your nipples, his teeth scraping lightly and his fingers pinching just enough for that pleasurable pain that makes you gasp and whine. Heat fires through you down to your core and you wish you could squeeze your thighs together but Alex’s hips hold them apart.

Once he was satisfied with the nip and bite marks on your tits he moves lower and undoes your jeans, pulling them roughly down over your hips and legs until he can throw them aside to the floor. His large hand immediately moves to your pussy; his thumb circling your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. “So wet for me…”

You whine in answer and nod “I’ve thought about this a lot…”

“Me too.” He moves your leg to lay over his shoulder and kisses your calf, pushing two fingers into you slowly with ease, drawing out a mewl of pleasure from your lips. He thrusts slowly and watches your hips move to the same rhythm before dipping down and flicking his tongue quickly over your clit. You gasp and moan his name, your hands in his hair as you rock your hips to his fingers and tongue. His scissors and thrusts, curls and stretches you out while his tongue works on your sensitive and hardened nub.

You feel a flutter pulsing through you, making you whimper and arch “oh god..”

Alex chuckles against you and slowly pulls away, withdrawing his fingers from you and holding them up to your mouth to clean him off and humming “that’s my good girl…” licking his lips as he watches your tongue swirl around his fingers. He soon resumes his previous position and lays your leg over his shoulder, lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing into you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his size.

You arch off the sofa as you feel him deep inside you, the head of his cock neatly against your cervix when fully inside you. He kisses your ankle and calf again, settling to let you get adjusted before pulling out and rolling his hips. You gasp and grip onto his wrist as his cock fills you out in ways you hadn’t experienced before; hitting all the right spots on every thrust and roll of his hips. You moan loudly into the room and lift your hips to his movements, another pleasurable pain as he stretches you out to take him fully.

Once accustomed to his size you rock your hips a little faster, watching his face as he grips your hip and thigh, pulling you onto his thrusts.

“I can take it..” you pant and groan needily. “Please!”

Alex growls low and speeds up; his hips piston into you, pushing deep and hard making you writhe and arch on the sofa with his name falling from your lips like a mantra. His eyes move from his cock stretching you to your blissful face to your tits, moving on every thrust of his hips.

“You feel so good…” he groans and grinds his hips into you making you bend double against him. His arm moves around your back and holds you as he leans his forehead against yours. “Let go for me… cum over my cock…”

You pant and whine, unable to make a sentence as his cock drives into you relentlessly.

“Good girl…”

You moan and drop your head back “fffuuuuuuuuck!!!” Arching suddenly against Alex as you cum; your muscles tightening in pulses and pulling him over the edge with you.

Alex lets out a long moan as your pussy milks him, his eyes on your heaving chest as you both relax onto the sofa after release.

He lays your leg to the side and then himself behind you, moving carefully and not pulling out of you yet. His arm holds you close while he whispers sweet things in Swedish close to your ear, against your neck and jaw where he leaves trails of kisses.

You close your eyes and turn your head to catch his kisses, stroking his face and whispering back how good he felt.

“Never been fucked like that..” you kiss him slowly, your tongue exploring his mouth.

He hums and nips you a little “gonna have to make sure I do it again some time then.”

“How about once we’ve recovered before breakfast…?” You chuckle and keep kissing him.

“Gimme ten minutes and I’ll make your legs stop working.” He smiles and rocks his hips playfully, making you gasp.

“Deal…”

-fin-

[halsteadlover]

My Warrior

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Pregnant!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Jay x pregnant!Reader where she's like in labor but has some complications and almost dies but at the end she is saved ? And Jay is al worried but then he becomes a softy with her being happy 'bout having his daughter/son with them? Angs/fluff, just do it if you want to, if not s'okay.

• Warnings: mention of blood, birth, tiny bit of swearing.

• Word count: 3951.

• A/N: first of all I want to apologize for any grammar error and I’m aware that medically speaking there will be many mistakes but I was too lazy to search it up so bear with me 💀 I hope you’ll like it anyways, comment, like and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing. Thank you for everything and your constant support. I love you all, my inbox is always open if you want to even just talk ❤️

“Jay I think my water just broke.”

From the moment these words came out of your mouth panic set in and if the contractions weren't so painful, you probably would have laughed at the way Jay was running back and forth around the house looking for the bag he had preemptively packed weeks and weeks before.

“Baby where's the bag? Did you see it? I swear I left it here in the bedroom… Oh my god, oh god…” he kept rambling, opening every closet door, even checking under the bed and behind the door.

You approached him just as the contractions stopped and grabbed his arm. “Baby just take it easy, everything will be fine.”

He nodded and took deep breaths as you did so, while you tried not to chuckle. “Okay, okay, I'm fine. Everything will be fine. I’m sorry love, I should be calming you now, how are you feeling now?”.

At the exact moment those words left his lips, a rather intense and painful contraction made you lean forward, your hand squeezing Jay's arm tightly.

“Oh fuck…” you mumbled, eyes closed in pain.

“We’re going to Med's baby, okay? It's okay, it's okay,” Jay whispered, patting your back in comfort but worried sick. He tried to stay as calm as possible, not to go crazy even though he was a complete mess. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him, you were about to give birth to his child and besides the excruciating pain of the contractions you didn't need to deal with his nervousness.

They prepared you for the childbirth’s pain, how intense the contractions would be, but no pre-natal course, manual or blog would ever really prepare you for how much pain you would have to go through. Your screams echoed throughout the room and you kept praying to God that all that pain would end soon, you just wanted to hug your baby.

Jay never left your side for even a second nor did his hand ever leave yours. He was sitting next to you, you squeezing his hand while he caressed your back even though he figured that gesture didn't help. His stomach was twisted with anxiety, he could hardly believe he was about to finally hug his son, his baby, he couldn’t believe you were about to become a family.

“Please make it stop,” you cried desperately, writhing in the bed.

“I'm so sorry baby, I'd take all your pain if I could,” Jay replied and he meant every single word. He would really rather suffer and take all your pain than see you suffer like that. He hated you were in such an intense pain and he just couldn't do anything to make you better, he hated feeling so useless as he heard the love of his life scream in pain.

“I hate you so fucking much Jay…” you screamed “I swear you’ll never touch me with a fucking finger again!”.

“I know love, it's my fault,” he tried to humor you, stroking your hair.

“And don't say that just to make me happy! I'm not fucking stupid!” anger took over “Stupid fucking men, you have sex, come inside us and we have to suffer like this!”.

Jay tried not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheeks or he knew he’d most likely get killed. He wanted to suffer with you but he cared about his life.

The rest of Jay's team, along with his brother who had been on duty up until then, arrived a couple of hours into your labor but they figured it might not be the time to go in there all together given the way you kept cursing jay and the whole world.

“Okay Y/N here we go. Are you ready to hug your baby?” your gynecologist asked, checking the dilation of your cervix and realizing you were now ready to push.

You nodded and thought it was also time, since you had been in labor for more than twelve hours.

“Is the dad okay? He looks like he saw a ghost,” the gynecologist laughed, noting the pallor of Jay's skin.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, it's finally happening,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Please don't leave me,” you begged, eyes filled with tears and your hand clasped over his.

He kissed your forehead. “I won't leave you baby, don't even say that as a joke. Man, we're about to be parents.”

You nodded smiling through tears. “I'm sorry I told you I hate you, it's not true baby, I love you so much.”

“I know baby, I know,” he kissed your forehead again “I love you so much too.”

Your doctor smiled as she saw the love between you and Jay, the way you looked at each other, the way he kept holding you and comforting you.

Under indication of the doctor, you started to push as you kept thinking you had to hold on, to resist for your baby that you so wanted to hold in your arms, for the little creature you were about to give birth. But you were so exhausted, so damn tired, you didn't know if you'd make it, if you'd hold on much longer.

“Okay now stop pushing, take some deep breaths Y/N, you're doing great,” your gynecologist spoke, and you leaned exhausted into Jay's arms.

“I'm so proud of you baby, so damn proud, I could never do what you're doing,” Jay whispered, kissing your sweaty forehead. He stroked your face, brushing the sticky hair from your forehead and squeezing you like he never did before.

“I can't take it anymore Jay, I'm so tired… I can't take it…” you cried, powerless. Damn it, you never imagined childbirth was such a tiring and exhausting experience.

“Of course you can darling, you're so strong…” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek “You're my little warrior. I know you're tired, I know, but you'll rest soon love, one last effort and we can hug our baby okay? Take some deep breaths, can you do it for me baby?”.

You nodded, starting to take deep breaths with him.

When it came time to push again, you really thought you were going to die, a searing pain that felt like it was cutting you in two.

“Very good Y/N, you are amazing, I can see your baby’s little head, we are almost there!” the gynecologist exclaimed “A couple more pushes.”

“You're doing so well baby, I'm so proud of you, one last effort,” Jay said, staring straight ahead as he tried not to pass out at the imagine of the baby’s head coming from inside you.

There was a moment you stopped breathing when your baby was born, the moment you were waiting to hear his cry, which felt like an eternity. It was as if you began to live again when the sound of his crying echoed through the room and you never felt so relieved.

The emotion you felt the moment you first hugged him up was indescribable, a moment that would be etched in your mind for your entire life. You couldn't believe you were finally able to hold him, that he was right there in front of you, healthy and so handsome.

“Our baby,” you whispered, staring at him in awe before returning your eyes to your husband, who, on the other hand, was a walking disaster. He cried all the tears in his system, tears he didn't even know he had and he hadn't felt like this since he saw you walking down the aisle when he was about to marry you.

“Our baby,” he cried, pressing his lips against yours trying to express in that kiss all his gratitude towards you, for giving him the family he had always wanted, a healthy and beautiful son, the love he felt for you.

Jay held you close, his eyes filled with love as he watched the little creature in your arms.

When it was his turn to pick him up he didn't deny he was nervous. He disinfected his hands over and over again, making sure to keep them clean and asking the nurse over and over for reassurance about how he was doing. Of course, he had taken other children in his arms but never so small and his son was so small and fragile he was afraid of accidentally hurting him.

“Hi baby,” Jay greeted his son, who was now stretching in his arms. “You are so handsome buddy, wow, you are definitely a Halstead.”

That comment made you chuckle even though you still felt very weak. You kept watching Jay cuddle your baby in silence until suddenly you broke into a cold sweat.

You brought a hand to your chest, your heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to stop at any moment. You could feel the shortness of breath, your chest rose and fell quickly in an attempt to fill your lungs with air but failing miserably.

Sharp pains ran through your uterus and you couldn't explain why. You were sure what was happening wasn’t normal.

“Jay…” you called him, but your voice was too soft for anyone to hear.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Hey!” Will exclaimed as he looked back at you and noticing the way you were breathing heavily and writhing on the bed. Jay immediately turned to you and his heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw the state you were in.

Will immediately called for help and nurses quickly arrived, picking up the newborn as Jay was no longer able to hold him.

“What the fuck is going on?! Y/N! Baby!” exclaimed Jay, approaching you but a nurse prevented him, trying to keep him at bay. “Let me go! She's wife! What the hell is going on?!” Jay kept exclaiming loudly.

Will had placed an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe and his eyes widened as he noticed the huge pool of blood at your belly.

“Call the OR immediately and warn Rhodes we're on our way!” Will ordered under the gaze of his brother who continued to yell at the nurse who prevented him from approaching you.

“Where is my baby?” you whispered, feeling increasingly weak and powerless.

“He's fine, he's safe,” Will reassured you.

“Jay?”.

“I'm here baby, I'm here, it's okay, just hold on for me,” Jay replied quickly and god the relief you felt to hear his voice.

Jay pushed the nurse away, almost making him fall, and ran to your bedside, immediately taking your hand and stroking your hair. “Everything will be fine baby, you'll be fine, don't you dare play tricks on me, you understand me?”.

You wanted to answer but your voice didn’t come out. The lights began to dim, the sounds and noises distant, as you began to drift into shadows and darkness.

“Y/N? Baby? Y/N!” Jay exclaimed in despair when he realized you passed out, no longer responding to any stimulus.

“Jay we need to go to the OR immediately, there's no time to waste,” Will warned after checking your pulse and realizing it was there but it was rather weak. Jay reluctantly let go of your hand and in a hurry they carried you and your bed into the operating room.

Jay walked out of the room, his eyes following you, desperate and in tears.

“Jay what is going on? Where are they taking her?” Kim asked urgently, approaching with the rest of the team when they noticed the commotion that had arisen.

“I…I…” he stammered tearfully, having no idea what the hell had just happened. He was in shock and his mind kept racing on possible scenarios.

“Jay, man, it's okay, take a deep breath,” Kevin walked over to him placing his hands on his shoulders. “What happened?”.

“They're taking her to the OR… She was fine and then she started bleeding… I… I didn't even realize she was feeling bad…” he cried, as the image of you immersed in a puddle of your own blood gasping for air gripped his mind.

“Will! Where is she? Is she okay?”.

Jay was in the waiting room with the rest of the team supporting him. Will joined him, his heart in a vise as he saw the state of anxiety and concern his brother was in.

“Rhodes is still operating her, she lost too much blood but they gave her transfusions and managed to stabilize her,” Will explained “She went into cardiac arrest but they managed to revive her.”

“What? Cardiac arrest?” Jay asked shocked. It couldn't be true, it must all be a nightmare.

How was it possible that you had just given birth to your baby and were now in the operating room fighting for your life.

“Due to the copious bleeding, her blood pressure was very low and the values plummeted. But she's stable now Jay, do you hear me? They pinpointed the source of the bleeding and stopped it.”

“But what happened? Why did she start bleeding? I swear if it was the gynecologist's fault I'll kill that bitch!” Jay exclaimed angrily.

“No Jay, it's not her fault, no one could’ve predicted it, there was a laceration of the birth canal, it's a complication that unfortunately can happen.”

Jay ran his hands over his face in frustration, feeling distract by everything that was going on. He pulled away feeling suddenly overwhelmed by events, as if he was losing every ounce of strength.

“Jay, listen to me brother,” Will joined him then placing a hand on his shoulder “Y/N is strong, she'll make it, you know she's in good hands. How about I walk you to the maternity ward to go meet little Halstead and I’ll go back to the OR? I will update you on everything that happens.”

Jay felt terribly guilty about what had happened because he felt like he had abandoned his son when he needed him instead.

“Hey little man” Jay whispered after picking up his son “I am so sorry I disappeared so suddenly but mum has been feeling unwell and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

He tried to hold back the tears, still praying with every fiber of his being for your recovery.

“She'll be fine I'm sure, your uncle Will is with her now and he'll be back soon okay?” he kept cradling his baby gently in his arms, never taking his eyes off him for even a second.

“You and mom are my life you know that right? The best thing that ever happened to me, seriously buddy I don't know how I would’ve ended if I hadn't met your mum,” he spoke, as if little Halstead could understand him “I still remember when I first met her: it was a rather particular first meeting because it was when in a moment of distraction, at a traffic light, she rear-ended me with the car. She's always been so clumsy, I hope you don't get that from her,” he chuckled “Anyway, she had rear-ended me, she got out of the car and started apologizing furiously, wrote her name and number on a piece of paper telling me she would pay every cent of the damage. I wasn't even mad, God, she was so beautiful, the way she babbled and stuttered, I think I was captivated by her from the start. I didn't care about my car, I just wanted to see her again and that's why I called her back the next day with the excuse of an agreement. I asked her out that same day and well… the rest is history,” he smiled as his mind replayed the memories of your first date, of the first moments you spent together, “I understood right away I was going to marry that woman, that I would’ve never been able to even look at another person who wasn't her. I don't know what she did to me, but dear god, I still love her like I did many years ago and now you're here little one… Shit, I don't think I could be happier than this…”

He took a moment to look at his son, to admire the creature you and him created together..

When he met you never in his life he would’ve thought of loving someone as much as he loved you, he thought his heart would not have been able to welcome another love but, God, seeing that little angel in his arms, his son, he felt completely overwhelmed by the love that little boy only a few hours old had made him feel.

“I already love you so much buddy, more than anything in the world and I swear I will give my life to protect you and your mommy, to keep you safe from this sometimes so cruel world,” he whispered “Don't say mom I said a bad word in front of you or she'll kill me,” he giggled, sniffling as he continued to cry. “You know, you're so lucky to have a mom like her. She is the kindest, purest, most selfless person I've ever met in my life, and I already know she’ll give all of herself to make you happy. It will be a bit tough, I won't deny it, there will be misunderstandings and I ask your forgiveness for when this will happen. Parents aren't perfect, damn little man, mine were the furthest thing from perfect, but never forget we love you more than our own lives, that nothing will ever be more important than you, and that everything we do, even if you disagree with us, will be for your good. I promise I’ll try so hard to be the father that mine wasn’t for me and I’m sorry for when I’ll be wrong, I hope you’ll be able to understand my love.”

“Oh my baby I need your mom so much now…” he continued in a sigh that ended in a sob. He felt a void so deep and painful, a void only you could fill. Jay couldn't exist in a world where you weren't in, a world where he was supposed to get up in the morning and you weren't lying asleep next to him. You were the only person in the world who really knew him, who knew his secrets, his deepest fears, you were the only person who made him happy, who could understand his moods with just a glance, the only one who could pick up his pieces and put them back together when the world seemed to tear him apart.

Jay spent the next two hours with his son, feeding him with the nurses’ help while Will updated him every twenty minutes on the progress of your surgery.

“Jay,” Will called back to his brother who was sitting next to his son’s crib, “The surgery is over, everything went well.”

Jay almost had a heart attack with joy, and taken by the impetus of the moment he ran to his brother and gave him a warm hug. Will smiled and returned that hug.

“Where is she? Is she fine? When can we see her?” he asked frantically.

“You couldn't, but I know nothing and no one is going to stop you so you go but only for ten minutes, am I understood?”.

He nodded, a toothy smile plastered on his face. “I promise.”

“I'll take care of him,” Will answered the unspoken question of his brother, who kept alternating his gaze between his child and Will.

“Don't you dare leave him alone okay?”.

“Don’t you know me at all brother? Now go, I want to spend some time alone with my beautiful little nephew, I haven't had the chance to say hello yet.”

“Thank you so much Will, you’re the best.”

You tried to open your eyes but the blinding light of the room forced you to close them.

It took you some time before they got used to it while instead your mind retraced the events that happened.

You felt groggy from the anesthesia and medications so it took you a while to realize you were in a hospital room.

What happened?

I gave birth.

Where is my baby? Is he fine?

You tried to lift yourself up, failing miserably when you felt a sharp pain go through your abdomen.

“No, no, no, stay still baby don't try to get up,” you felt someone caressing your arms and a voice that you immediately recognized belonged to your husband. You turned your head towards him and it was so nice to see him again.

“What happened? Where is my baby? Tell me he's okay.”

Jay hugged you, being careful not to hurt you or put too much weight on you. “He's fine, he's with Will now,” Jay explained in a low voice “I was so scared Y/N.”

You hugged him back, inhaling his scent deeply.

“You had an uterine hemorrhage… You had a surgery…” he continued but suddenly stopped. You were about to speak when you heard a soft sob and at that point you realized he was crying.

“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,” you whispered, pulling away from the hug only to then gently place your hands on his face now streaked with tears, “I'm fine my love, everything was fine. Please don't cry.”

“I was so scared of losing you,” he whispered “I don't know what I would’ve done without you…”

You kissed him, pressing your lips against his in a kiss with which you tried to express all the love you felt for him and to calm him down.

“You will never get rid of me Mr. Halstead.”

He giggled through tears. “Don't even joking about that Mrs Halstead, I can't even imagine living in a world where you are not in. Don't ever do that to me again do you hear me? You made me worry to death.

“Okay, I'll try not to bleed out next time,” you laughed, but a twinge of pain made you stop. “Damn it hurts.”

“I'm sorry baby,” he kissed your forehead, stroking your hair as he did “You were so strong today my little warrior, try to rest now you deserve it.”

“I want to see my baby, can you bring him here?”.

“Sure love, I'll tell Will.”

You began to cry when you picked up your son, venting all the fear, tension and worry that had overwhelmed you that day. Nonetheless, however, it was worth it. All the morning sickness, the sleepless nights, the perennial back pain, the wrenching and debilitating contractions, you would’ve done it all over again just to be able to see that little face again for the first time.

After Will said goodbye and left you and Jay alone, he sat on the bed right next to you, grinning like an idiot as he saw his son's mother and his baby together. God, he couldn't have made a better choice for the mother oh his kids.

“Look at him baby, he's so handsome,” you whispered, still looking at your little boy.

Jay put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. “He got it from his mom.”

He brought his free hand close to the little ones of his child and his heart exploded with joy when that little hand grabbed his index finger, squeezing it.

“Thank you for giving me the best gift I could ever ask for, I love you so much baby,” Jay spoke softly, promising himself he would do everything in his power to return this gift and love you with everything he had but also realizing not even a lifetime would be enough to make up for the blessing you gave him. A family.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry

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[gingerjunhan]

boyfriend headcannons - goo gunil

☆彡 I felt burnt out after working on an essay all day, so what did I do? Went to my dorm and wrote some more! I’ve seen other blogs do little series like this with groups, so I wanted to give it a try! I hope you all enjoy!

word count: 777 | pronouns used: they/them | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: reader is called “beautiful,” cringe moments /pos, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death (in a joking way), my delulu thoughts, all caps, lmk if I missed anything else!

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Gunil strikes me as they type of boyfriend that would try to make your life feel like a rom-com

he definitely strikes me as one of the more romantic ones in the group, but probably in a more goofy way than Jungsu or Seungmin would be (but more on that later)

yes he’s buying you flowers every time he passes a flower stand

yes he leaves those cheesy little notes about how beautiful and perfect you are in your lunch that you take to school or work

yes he reminds you every day that you’re quite literally the light of his life and he wouldn’t be the same person without you

but I truly believe this man can get weird

like, very very strange

in the most endearing way… he’s cringe

let’s unpack that

starting off strong:

“Good morning sunshine!”

some find that cringe, but I’m kicking my feet so 🧍🏻‍♀️

the pet names… oh god the pet names

I know I have a whole fic on this topic already but I feel the need to say more for Gunil

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “sweetums”

“precious”

I’m sorry but he gives me “bubs”/“bubby” vibes

listen I don’t hate that one as much as other people okay hear me out

“angel” probably happens on rare occasions

I could go on

he may be cringe but he is free!

but it’s okay because you totally call him silly names back

you love him no matter what

you know who else loves him?

your parents

he’s shaking hands and being overly friendly, and your parents are eating it up!!!!

let's say you bring him over for dinner:

“You have such a lovely home!”

“Do you need help with anything? I can set the table!”

“The meal was amazing. (Y/N) clearly didn’t get their cooking skills from you!”

“Gunil what the hell-“

the next time your parents invite him over he definitely shows up with dessert, wine, a side dish, something

he 100% gets the parental stamp of approval 👍🏻

okay I’m sorry but we need to talk about Gunil and intimacy keeping it G y’all c’mon now

he :(( is the sweetest :(((( ever :(

he knows he’s strong so he tries to be so gentle with you

if you want him to hold you tight he absolutely will

but Gunil strikes me as a soft intimacy type of guy!!

soft, calming, long hugs

sweet compliments whispered between you during a cuddle secession

cuddle secessions :(

if he doesn’t cuddle with you before bed he literally acts like he’s on the brink of death

gently holding your hand at almost all times

like I’ve said, I think Gunil likes PDA

so he’s got a grip on your hand at all times in public

I also think that Gunil would be the type to wash your hair for you

I’m melting right now

imagine it like,,,, oh my god

Gunil knows you’ve been stressed and he can see how hard you’re working and how much the stress is affecting you so he offers to help you relax

he runs a nice bath for you

lights a few candles

and then if you’re comfortable with it he’s right by your side, absolutely pampering you and washing your hair :(

can we tell that he’s been bias wrecking me really really hard lately? yes? okay

but these gentle moments don’t last forever

he’s you’re hype man all the time every day

“You look so good baby! I love your outfit today! C’mon, give me a spin- OH MY GOSH youlooksogood!”

gives you those hugs where he gets really excited and picks you up and spins you in circles

Gunil definitely gives me the vibe that he would totally put his full body weight on you if you wanted him to

just *plop*

okay okay so we all know how Gunil is the only member of xh who can drive yes?

do you think he like,, does the thing? 🤭 when he puts the car in reverse? 🤭 because guys I think he does 🤭

I’m a firm believer in the fact that Gunil would quite literally be the most perfect man on the face of the earth (totally unbiased opinion!)

he always encourages you to try new things- even if they scare you- and always reach for your goals!!

he’s so supportive and full of love for you and he’s gonna be by your side every step of the way and MAN I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH—

final closing thought but imagine sitting on his lap while he teaches you how to play drums EEE okay I need to stop

[not-goldy]

I'm on a break but I had to jump in real quick on this

Gonna ignore everything you said bout Jungkook- cos it's not necessary. You don't have to go there. He's my bias too so you can understand why I find it offensive when you guys make derogatory comments about him. Like I'm not gonna clap for you or side with you for putting dirt on his name like be fucking for real.

There's a difference between being objective, giving constructive criticism of a person and just plain hating on someone and I'm sorry if you like Jungkook a little bit some of these comments won't fly out of your mouth nor would you entertain them.

And if you wanna get sensible words out of me avoid the triggers is all I be saying. Don't trigger me and then act discombobulated when I act crazy.

But I like what you said about Jimin....

I've been applauding Jimin's supporters since face cos yall pulled your weight and got him where he and the company hadn't contemplated going- let's get that very straight.

I said in my previous post I don't think like crazy was created specifically for a western audience. Nor was it intended to be as huge as it was.

It wasn't even his lead single yet it's his number one single💀

PJMS did too much and got him a number one on BB. BB DID NOT SEE IT COMING. THEY WOULD HAVE MOVED THE GOAL POST I TELL YA.

Yall did too much pushing his tracks to the top of charts. Yall acted as if it was a BTS come back like calm down 🤭

PJMs are soo extra🤭

But don't stop you doing amazing sweetie

They set the bar for Jimin to the high heavens. And we are hungry and wild for his success. It's cool but damn yalls appetite 🤭🤭🤭🤭

I don't think that is a bad thing. It just goes to show people are ready to support Jimin and take him to a level never seen before.

His next come back is gonna be 🔥 🔥

I mean the moment they got friends on a Marvel project I knew the Western industry thought he was on to something with his unique voice and all. Then they got him on Fast and Furious and lemme tell you that's some huge marks on his portfolio.

The portfolio this man is building is crazy!

I get all flustered and tingly thinking about what else he's gonna do and where he's gonna end up next in his career. He might have to move to Los Angeles soon cos he seem to have a place in Hollywood too the movie industry loves him🙂

If you wanna talk about the west then yea without a doubt, he is the one member who has a footing in with producers ready to work with him to make songs for their movies.

Fuck, I have a sense he's gonna cameo in a few Hollywood movies soon and he's gonna get booked to work on more soundtracks and OS for Hollywood. DAMN, IF THAT HAPPENS 😌😌😌😌😌😌

You guys need to relax, be patient and watch him.

Just watch him and don't jinx it up for him I swear to God! Yall be blocking your own blessings with unnecessary rants sometimes🙄

He's on the right track with his career. I genuinely believe that.

And I hope when he's finally ready with a predominantly English Album intended for the western market that hybe will move heaven and earth to give him the extra push and support he needs.

THEY BETTER COS WHEN I TELL YOU IT'S GONNA BE BLOODY UP IN THESE STREETS💀💀💀💀💀

And there's something about Jimin yall not realizing... those who know know.

I mean, Jimin even said it himself. he wanted an MV for every track and they shot him down....

EVERY TRACK....

THAT'S CRAZY.

And I know they shot him down, perhaps because they didn't think it was necessary for something they didn't intend to go all in on????

which is understandable but.....

We Libras are like that.

One time I set out to write a paper for a friends blog and it was supposed to be quick short and easy, but I decided to throw in a few references here and there to make it more academic and well researched- but I had to make sure it was accurate references so I hit the library. Before I knew it, I was calling up professors here and there and going all in I ended up with a 300 page dissertation and my friend couldn't use it for her blog so decided to keep it for her dissertation- so I told her I could work on a proper dissertation for her....

She said she was told she was too ambitious when she submitted it💀😬

When I get asked out for a spontaneous night out, I drive by the store to pick a new outfit and end up getting a pedicure manicure lashes silk press facials, bleach, exfoliate my butt- all for a girls night out.

Don't invite me for a sleep over cos this would be me- literally

We don't do casual so well and always end up going the extra mile and over doing things.

Oh you're sad? Don't worry. A text won't do. I'll call to check on you, email you, make a blog for you, drive by your home in the middle of the night, move into your home, get married to you, have your children, dig my own grave and bury myself next to you cos I never know how much affection is enough 😭💀

I dare you to ask me a simple question- I'll go on and on and try to cover every base and every aspect. One lecturer told me, you are brilliant Goldy but learn to limit yourself and limit the scope when answering questions- yes, I was always the student who never finished a paper on time and always run out of time cos I had so much to say and everything I had to say felt important😭😭😭😭😭

If you listen to Jimin, it wasn't even intended for set me free to be as big as it turned out to be💀💀💀

As amazing of a voice as he has, he had to request for voice training just to make sure he was on track- when I tell yall, sometimes his "shortcomings" are all in his head bless his heart😭🥲

How many times did Jungkook and Yoongi say they had to reassure him he had a great singing voice and yet those were the times he kept insisting he wanted voice training😔

Sometimes we see flaws in ourselves others don't see. Most times those flaws are as imaginary as could be. And yet we obsess over those perceived flaws and even worse, we try to fix them....

If you're someone like that sometimes it may appear all everyone does around you is shoot you down and try to bring you down- but in reality, they'd just be the ones keeping you tethered so the perfectionist or dysmophia in you don't drive you over the edge.

Not saying Jimin struggles with dysmophia of all sorts..... but he lowkey give off vibes if you know what I mean💀

All these comments about him being the triple A guy when it comes to effort, the hyungs using him as inspiration to work hard, the whole Kpop industry making him out to be the "rookie Bible" lowkey stems from over ambitiousness and innate dissatisfaction with the barest minimum- but sometimes that's all that you need to do. The barest minimum.

It took me a while to understand this and feel comfortable with lecturers and people around me telling me I'm enough and don't need to do too much all the time to feel good enough or accomplished.

One time I scored a B+ on a paper, I cut myself for not working hard enough. After bleeding it out of my system I gathered the courage to confront the teacher only to find out she had my grades mixed with someone else's 😭😭😭😭💀

I spent so much time in the study room at boarding school people called me the study room freak and I kid you not I got an award for it😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'm much much better now and can let my grammar errors fly without feeling a need to read through my writings a gazillion times. It's the Marijuana but still. It feels good to not care about anything anymore 😌

He's said he's working on his perfectionism and isn't consumed by it anymore but lowkey lowkey- we love him regardless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bottom line, we shouldn't confuse what happened with Face with what's happening with Jungkook.

Jimin's entanglement with the West wasn't intended at all in my opinion. It just happened. He had had Vibe and I think they just rode on the waves of the publicity from that for Set me free and Later like Crazy.

Thus he made more money spending less on advertising and marketing- comparatively speaking.

Then you have the youngest who had to sacrifice and go last after everyone- bare in mind who ever went first with their Solo had the most organic publicity because it was a new phase and all attention was on BTS since they announced a hiatus and going solo.

With little effort, that person was guaranteed to back some coins 🪙

The one to go last is relatively disadvantaged because he loses that organic attention and would require a lot of publicity to sell- but if he happens to be Jungkook then they would need to do just a little lifting because again- Golden Maknae. But imagine if Hobi were to go last- like some of yall wouldn't even care at all lets be honest which is not fair to Hobi but also the sad reality.

If I were Jungkook or Tae I wouldn't agree to go last at all don't give a fuck it's everyone for themselves💀

See this is why I wanted them all to release their albums at once. Hybe would be over stretched but then everyone would shut the fuck up. 😒

It may appear to most that the company didn't put in much effort to promote Jimin and- I understand these sentiments. I do. I just don't think it's a fair objective assessment of the situation💀

It's easy to say this wasn't treated well or that wasn't treated well when all you focused on is your bias. And I think sometimes equity prevails over equality because in as much as some went ahead of others, some already had kicked started their publicity with other collabs, some had been allotted more of the spending budget, some had high productions or low productions, they all can't get equal treatment.

Jungkook's launch is very much deliberate and well strategized too for the last debut. They took the lessons from the others launch and are trying to cover every base. He went last and so Hybe just had to make sure he went out with a bang. It be like that.

Every has to bag their coins somehow and that's all that matters.

Now that phase one is done. I can't wait to find out what they have install for phase two- I hope it's not gonna be crickets cos they all in Jail or military or whatever 😭💀

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 1

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: alcohol use, descriptions of drowning, swearing, sadness, eventual smut, non-con hurt, bondage, blood, let me know if I miss anything the warnings will be updated as we go.This is the first chapter of a series in progress :)

Note: this being the first post of a new blog, I do not expect a lot of traction. But to anyone who does read I hope you enjoy, and have an amazing day!!

The water is filling his lungs.

He scrunches his eyes to fight off the salt already burning deep up his nose, threatening to flood his whole body as he sinks, sinks…

He could swim up, but he doesn’t. He could be scared, but he isn’t. He’s resigned to die. To be buried in the cold, dark ocean, and become one of the many forgotten things that call it their tomb.

He’s sinking, deeper and deeper, feeling his body go stiff as the icy darkness wraps around his limbs.

The last blue light of the surface has abandoned him.

And he can’t be sad, can he? He knows that he chose this, after all. Even if he can’t remember it. Even if the tiniest inkling of regret is creeping up on him with each bit of light lost.

He goes limp, parting his lips to let the water in.

•••

“Hey, kid!”

His eyes flick open, a little gasp leaving his lips as a heavy fist raps on the bathroom door.

“Fucking finish up, you’re on in ten minutes.”

Fuck.

He doesn’t reply, just rubs his temple as the pain in his body registers. He peels his face off of the arm he’s resting on the paper dispenser.

Did he actually fall asleep?

The ache in his legs as he readjusts on the toilet lid tells him he’s been sitting here for way longer than he intended.

He stands up, cursing at the immediate stab of pain in his lower back.

“Kid, you in there?”

“Yeah… yeah!” He scrambles to the sink, prepared for the horror that must be his eyeliner after having his face smashed for the past 20 minutes or so.

It is… not good.

“Hurry up.”

“Okay.”

There’s a single yellow lightbulb dangling in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating what he hopes to god is a poor portrait of himself. His cheeks are hollow, his skin is pale. And not even the copious amounts of black eyeliner dredging his eyes- and now the side of his face -can hide the bags under them. The all-nighter he pulled in preparation for tonight shows, letting each and every one who will look at his illuminated face tonight know just how nervous he’s been for the past few days.

He just prays the other bands don’t get a jab in about it.

He rubs his cheek with the side of his hand, smearing the black off as best he can before swiping his bangs into his eyes to hide the whole mess.

He takes a deep breath.

He looks fine… really. Not like this is his first show. Not like he’s gonna fumble the hell out of it, even after weeks of practice behind closed doors. His fingers itch for the familiarity of the smooth keys on his sleek, black keyboard.

He knows them better than the feel of his own skin.

The second he opens the door he’s swallowed into the noise of the bar. The acoustics in here aren’t bad- he can hear every noise, every voice laughing with the rock music pouring out of old dusty speakers. He blinks hard to adjust to the light as he weaves his way through the crowd, eyeing the low-set stage against the far wall.

His stage.

He mounts it, hunching down besides the legs of the keyboard to look it over, adjusting a few knobs carefully.

“It’s tuned.”

It takes him a few seconds before he realizes that the voice is directed at him. He looks up, thumb swiping anxiously over the rim of the keys.

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t touch that.” The man says, leaning against one of the concrete pillars to his left. He’s fiddling with the strings of his bass, And remarkably, he’s almost eye-level, even though his shiny doc martens are planted on the floor below. “It’s already tuned.”

He looks about the same age as him. 22, a few years older maybe. But the confidence he exudes is almost enough to convince someone that he’s only in this dive bar for kicks. A hardened veteran, disgusted at a spindly kid getting their eye-liner smudged fingers all over the keys.

“I know.” He says, barely giving the newcomer a glance. “But I’m about to play it. I want my songs to sound the way they always do.”

“Do they always sound like you’ve fucked up the keyboard?” Comes the reply. And oh boy, he’s on in five minutes. This joker needs to let him do his thing, otherwise he’s concerningly close to having a mental breakdown right here.

“No.”

“You oughta write music that works with a properly tuned instrument, Holmes.” The stranger swipes his long fingers through his bangs, dragging the stray beaded strands back to join the tight knot pulling the rest of it out of his angular face.

“S’what I do.”

“And you are?”

“III.”

Two minutes. A small smile creeps to the young musician's lips. “Yeah? Where’s I and II?”

“IV and II are at the bar, smart ass.” III says, stepping closer. His eyes bore down onto the hands now fiddling with the power cord leading into the wall. It’s dragged firmly across the stage to where it ought to be.

“-they’re not shitting their pants over a tiny dive bar gig.”

Now he’s pissed. And yet that anger is manifesting as what feels like tears in the corners of his eyes. If his eyeliner starts running even more, he’s gonna kill this man, and then himself. But before he can say anything the lights dim, and Highway to Hell fades out of the dated speakers.

His heart lurches against his ribs.

The tall stranger actually smiles, stepping back against his pillar. He folds his arms casually over the bass slung across his waist, settling down for the show.

The musician is half-certain he sees a wink from between the long strands of hair once again falling out of that obnoxious man-bun, but he ignores it. He doesn’t have a choice. Because in less than a second, there’s a pale blue spotlight illuminating his hunched shoulders and smudged, sleep-deprived face.

He hears his name announced half-heartedly by the same voice that pulled him out of his impromptu nap a few minutes ago, and a few faces in the spotty crowd turn to eye him expectantly.

Is this… what hell is like?

The mic positioned over the keys suddenly looks like the face of a monster, calling his name with every intention to bite. But he leans into it almost robotically, clearing his throat and hearing the sound bounce against the plaster walls.

“…Hello.” He says, a little too softly. He wonders if he ought to talk more, if they’re expecting him to introduce himself again or ask them if they’re having a good night. Somehow, this is the first time the dilemma has crossed his mind.

Then he settles with the simplest thing that comes to him.

“This song is called Atlantic.”

His shaky fingers start to move over the keys. He taps them lightly, hitting the first one too hard and compensating by barely brushing the next two. But nobody seems to notice, and he takes a deep breath, praying to any gods that can hear him that he gets this right. He knows this song. He wrote this song.

He feels the eyes of the bass player following his icy fingertips, willing them to fail as they glide across the row of white keys. And somehow, it serves to steady them, if out of spite. He steps closer to the instrument, bowing his head and jutting his knee forward as his lips graze the mic.

“Call me when they bury bodies under water…”

The room goes silent. The entire world does, and so does his mind. The notes drift softly from his mouth, falling into air full of listeners for the first time.

“It’s blue light over murder for me…”

His eyes drift close as the music consumes him.

His hands remember, now- they pull the notes out of the ivory delicately and powerfully, lapping at them like waves and stirring them with his voice in perfect cohesion.

This is who he is.

“Crumble like a temple built from future daughters, to wasteland when the oceans recede.”

Eyes are on him, freezing him and orbiting around him. But they can’t get behind his closed eyes, and they can’t tell him he’s playing his own song wrong. The worst they can do is hate it, and well… he tries not to think about that. Hopefully they've all had enough drinks to convince them this slightly awkward performance is a good one.

And hopefully he’ll be able to have enough drinks tonight that no matter what, he’ll have had a good time.

He’s nearing the end of the song, and he notices his hands going harder on the notes. “Don’t wake me up.” There’s a knot in his throat. “Don’t wake me up.”

And then there is silence.

He blinks his eyes open, fighting the shivers in his body as all sense tells him to look at the crowd. But all he can concentrate on is the black smudges on the white keys, and the blue light bathing it in a haze.

After a few seconds, his ears fill with a spattering of applause. One person “wooh!”s, and a few more nod approvingly once his eyes finally peel off his feet.

He feels a tiny smile crawl to his lips.

Then he looks at III.

The man is still leaning on his bass, watching him with dark but almost approving eyes. He doesn’t look ready to pounce on him anymore, though god knows, the great part of his confidence probably lies in how well he’s gonna mop the stage with that meager offering.

The singer looks away, trying his best not to scowl as he nods his thanks to the crowd and returns to playing, this time announcing a song he only wrote a week ago. There might be a little free-styling involved, but he thinks he’s up for it.

And thus his twenty-minute slot drags on. A slow beginning, sour glances from III, then shuffling his feet and nodding his head as he retreats to the darkness behind his eyes and lets his hands take over.

Near the end, he’s almost confident. He finds himself rocking back and forth slowly as the last notes of his final song die out, a few claps once again resounding in the tiny venue. “Thank you,” he whispers, blinking a tear out of his eye.

And then he steps off the stage.

He feels weightless, almost like he’s dreaming. The lights blur in his peripheral like jellyfish and he makes a b-line for the bar, feeling more euphoric and terrified than he’s ever felt in his life. His first show. His first show. And they didn’t boo him off the stage.

He plops down on a stool and rubs his eyes, ordering an old fashioned and hoping it will keep the elation going. Fuck, he’s tired.

Suddenly he’s being attacked. Or at least, slapped on the back so hard it zaps a few hours of energy back into his abused body.

He turns to the person beside him, blinking in confusion before he realizes that this is one of the men III had gestured to before the show. Either II or IV, he doesn’t know. The man is wearing a black t-shirt, two scythes making an ‘X’ dangling on a silver chain around his neck. his bright blue eyes are enthusiastic. “Nice show, man.” He says, taking a swig of his beer. “Loved that little bit in the middle, that depressing solo bit. You’ve got a fucking voice and an ear for those ivories, brilliant stuff.”

“Thank you.” The singer replies, hoping the compliment is genuine and not something a certain fellow bandmate put him up to. He reaches for the drink slid to him across the counter, taking a modest sip. He swirls the cherry in the bottom of the glass.

“Are you on next?” He asks, trying to make eye contact as he takes another sip. “Do you sing?”

“Fuck yeah, and fuck no.” The man giggles. “I’m on drums, see.” He points to the stage and the slightly sad, unassuming drum set in the corner. “Gonna tear it up. Hope you’ll stay.”

He’d like to stay. He loves music. But he’s afraid if he doesn’t get sleep soon, he’ll never make it home conscious. “Thanks, I’ll try.” He says, almost rubbing an eye before remembering the black puddles he’s turned them into. He sighs.

“…Tired.”

“Hey!” A new face says before the drummer can reply. It sounds like the voice of a woman, and is quickly followed by yet another unsolicited hand on his shoulder. He turns around wide-eyed.

“Nice show, kid.” Says a girl yet again no older than himself. Her head is shaved, clean black lips glistening in a smile.

“I’m Venus, the opening act. What’dya think?”

He, of course, had slept through it. But the pretty girl beaming at him can’t possibly know that.

“It was fantastic,” he says, trying his best at a smile. “V-very good.”

Something in her face tells him she might not be entirely convinced. But he’s relieved when she instantly changes the subject, manicured hand squeezing his shoulder playfully as she leans over him to eye the drummer.

“You with the next band?” She asks. Her silver snake bites flash in the neon light above the counter, stirring something in the singer's chest. He folds his hands over the sleeves of his loose sweatshirt, tipping his glass to his lips again and sighing.

The drummer takes a long swig of his own beer, nodding with a smile curling his lips. He pops off and says, “I’m II. And you’ll see me on the drums.” He directs both of their gazes towards the stage with the tip of his bottle, something twinkling in his eye as he says, “there’s III over there, and IV. Best Bass and guitar duo you’ve ever heard.”

Venus laughs, hunching casually against the singer's shoulder in a way that, if he had any more brain cells, would make him blush. He just eyes III over the rim of his glass, watching as he concentrates on tuning his own instrument. He’s talking to a guitarist in plaid pants and a black leather jacket, someone instantly nameable as IV.

“Yeah?“ the girl says. “Where’s I?”

II shrugs, big blue eyes still watching his band mates with a profound fondness; probably due to what was once the contents of the beer bottles stacking up around his elbows.

“Nowhere.” He says smugly. Then he’s swiveling around, hanging on the shoulder of his new extremely sleep-deprived friend and wiggling his fingers up at Venus. “Or maybe it’s you, huh?”

Both of them laugh, and there’s no clear reason as to why. But there’s now two attractive people hanging on either side of the singer, and he wonders how he came so easily to such an inconvenient honor. It’s all he can do to hunch his shoulders and finally take a long swig of his old fashioned, hoping he doesn’t look as terrible as he feels.

Then suddenly, IV appears, dragging II off of his stool without so much as a warning. “Five minutes, hon.” He says, swinging his guitar to the side to pull his bandmate into himself. “Let’s fucking go.”

“Nice talking to ya.” II says, smiling big and knocking his head against IV’s shoulder. “See ya after the show!”

The singer can’t help but smile, waving goodbye slowly before turning his attention to the cherry at the bottom of his glass.

“Come on.” The pretty girl says over the music, breath rustling the hair over his ear. “You look fucking beat baby, come on and hang in the back with the rest of my crew, huh?”

He slowly registers the words. “Oh-“ he looks around for a second, almost like his blurry surroundings might offer an excuse. “Like, in the back of the bar?”

“In the back room, man.” She says, and as she steps back she lands a playful smack on his shoulder. “It’s the place to cool down after a show, and you look like you could use a nap.”

He can’t argue there. Literally, he cannot. He’s about to fall flat on his face and if he doesn’t find some caffeine or sleep soon, there’s no way he’ll make it home safely tonight.

“Alright.” He says, voice already a mile deep from exhaustion. He tries to smile kindly, but his lanky body almost flops off the side of his stool as he stands and he finds himself struggling to stay composed at all. He turns after her, prepared to follow for whatever solace she’s offering. She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd, sparing a glance back at the stage just as the lights dim and the radio fades.

His eyes follow her gaze, watching as the spotlight comes on and lands on three figures on the stage. ll at the drums, beaming, IV swaying softly with his guitar, and III; taking up center stage and swiping his hair out of his eyes.

Venus drags him through some beaded curtains and the crowd gathers around the stage as slowly, they begin to play.

[sethsclearwater]

request: Ok really dunno if you're still taking requests for Seth but just hear me out, what about a second part of that amazing imagine where Seth's s/o is pregnant BUT they have to tell the boys about the pregnancy and all of them get like so freaked out bc now is prob that Sam knows from the wolf link or something like that lol Love your blog btw ✨💗

notes: this is so cutie🥺

warnings: none

link to part 1 and part 3

…

it had officially been 48 hours since sue confirmed your pregnancy. you didn’t really know what to do with yourself. you and seth were busy trying to figure out what exactly you needed to do over the next 9 months to ensure everything was ready when your baby arrived and the looming thought of telling the rest of the pack that you were pregnant remained in the back of your mind. 

seth had managed to get out of patrol yesterday, telling everyone that you were sick and needed him there. and, although it worked initially, you failed to realize how much the rest of the pack would be concerned for your well-being. 

you and seth were sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching home renovation shows while you lay curled up in his lap, one of his hands holding you to his chest and the other drawing mindless shapes on your abdomen. 

“i don’t think we can hide here much longer.” seth broke the silence and you exhaled, laughing softly at his comment.

“i don’t think so either.” you mused, peeking up at him to see him smiling softly and he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

you smiled, “maybe we just go over to emily’s and do it? i don’t like hiding from everyone.” you suggested softly.

he nodded, hugging you tightly into his chest before continuing, “i agree, let’s do it.” seth stood up, helping set you down on your feet before grabbing the remote and clicking the tv off. 

you grabbed your phone and texted emily, letting her know that you and seth would be coming over in a few minutes. luckily for you, her house was a short 5-minute drive from your apartment. 

you grabbed your purse, seth helping you into your jacket before the two of you left the apartment and got into the car, heading over to emily’s to finally break the news to everyone.

–

as you pulled into emily’s driveway, the boys ran out the front door, jumping off the porch before seth even had a chance to park the car. the two of you exchanged glances before bursting into laughter at the situation. seth gave your hand a quick squeeze, “i love you.” he murmured and you nodded, cupping his jaw in your hand and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“i love you too.” you murmured back, smiling softly at him before you both got out of the car. 

quil was the first to get to you, immediately pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you up to spin you around, “what happened to you?” he exclaimed, “seth wouldn’t tell us anything!” 

“easy quil - you’re gonna squish her.” seth teased, coming to your rescue and wrapping his arm around your waist, resting his palm on your abdomen protectively. 

you laughed softly, “sorry. i think it was the stomach flu.” you mused, not sure if you should be breaking the news right then and there or wait. 

quil paused, taking a step back then and looked you up and down, “oh my god.” his jaw dropped when he saw the way seth’s hand rested on your abdomen.

 embry seemed to pick up on it then too as he murmured, “no fucking way.” 

you could feel the blood draining from your face and you turned into seth, looking up at him for help and he just laughed softly, “i swear i didn’t say anything babe.” he reassured, his gaze moving over to the porch as emily and your brother, sam, stepped out. 

“you’re pregnant?” quil questioned, much more loudly than you would’ve liked and you winced, looking over to your brother nervously. 

sam wore a blank expression and you nodded, turning your attention back to quil, “yea… i’m pregnant.” you confirmed and seth’s grip momentarily tightened around your waist as you gnawed at your lower lip nervously, curling further into his side.

“you’re pregnant!” embry and quil exclaimed, quil immediately pulling you out of seth’s grip and into a, much more gentle, hug. you could hear emily’s laughter from behind quil and you peeked over quil’s shoulder to see emily’s smiling face as she made her way down the porch and over to you.

“congratulations y/n,” she cooed as quil released his grip on you so she could hug you. you smiled, returning the gesture and hugged her back, “how far along are you?” she asked softly, gently releasing you so she could press her hand to your abdomen, feeling for any sign of a baby bump.

you smiled, placing your hand ontop of hers, “only a few weeks,” you murmured, peeking up at her and she smiled, nodding knowingly. “we just found out on monday.” 

emily pulled you into another hug before turning around to your brother, “sam come over here and congratulate your sister!” she called before adding, “and don’t you dare stress her out!” 

you looked up at the sound of your brother’s chuckles, smiling softly at him as he approached you, gently pulling you into a hug. “you’re okay?” he asked after a moment, gently releasing you so he could look you up and down. 

you nodded, “‘course i am.” you reassured before looking over your shoulder to grab seth’s hand and pull him over, “got the best baby daddy in the world.” you joked and sam rolled his eyes but you could see the way his lips almost cracked a smile.

“whatever you say.” sam muttered, still keeping up his usually tough-guy facade, before asking, “are you coming in? or are you two still hiding from everyone?” emily smacked his shoulder at that and you laughed, allowing seth to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his hands on your hips and giving you a soft squeeze. 

“don’t be rude! of course they’re coming in. aren’t you y/n and seth?” emily cooed and you nodded, peeking up at seth who also nodded and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before allowing emily to lead you into their house, the boys’ excited laughter echoing around you. 

despite your anxiety about the whole situation, everything turned out alright. the boys spent the rest of the afternoon fussing around you while you and seth finally relaxed a bit, happy to know everyone was just as excited as the two of you were to be having a baby.

[positivelybeastly]

Hi!! Is me, Stray! After many a trial and error, I now have an RP blog! Just letting you know I'm here and, uh, favorite music genres & favorite song headcanons for Hank?

Welcome to the roleplaying community! There's always a few ups and downs when you're first getting set up, especially if you've only ever set up the one Tumblr for personal use, but there's always room to learn, and I find that people tend to be generally pretty accommodating if you're as polite as you've been on Anon! If you have any questions about roleplay etiquette or the like, feel free to send another ask or just IM me.

As for favourite music genres and song headcanons for Hank, I generally think he's a pretty open minded fellow? There are a good few bands and types of music we know for certain that he enjoys.

Jocko Homo, by Devo.

Dead Man's Party, by Oingo Boingo.

Chopin's Nocturne.

60s rock! I can see him being a Creedence Clearwater Revival kinda guy.

Acis and Galatea!

The Rolling Stones!

Something you'll often see assumed of Hank is that just because he's a man of the arts, well read, and eloquent, is that he's some kind of music snob, that he only listens to opera, that he only enjoys classical, that he looks down on 'lesser' forms of music. And I honestly just don't believe that would be the case?

Like . . . here's the thing. Hank may talk fancy, but he is still, at best, a middle class farm boy from Illinois. If he has an accent, it's probably closest to a Chicago accent, if he hasn't trained his voice to do something entirely different - he does mention his voice has changed during his feline mutation to a baritone, so it's not out of the question. But he is not (or at least, he should not be) a hoity toity snooty asshole.

This is something even writers often get wrong about him - they assume that he's the smart character, ergo he must be the snooty, elitist character, which is something Ben Percy leans into, but it's not even just him, it's Paul Di Filippo in X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #8, too. It becomes an asshole trait, and it's just. Not. Accurate.

Hank likes all kinds of music. In fact, I struggle to think of a kind he's outright stated he hates, though he's been around for 60 years, I'm sure someone can correct me. He's a curious fellow! He likes to explore! He'll consume any media, he quotes 1940s Superman comics, he watches Robin Hood movies with Wonder Man, why in god's name would he be a snob?

As for headcanon? I have tons! I often think, hmm, this feels like a song Hank would like, or a song that feels like a Hank song, when I listen to music, because. You know. Big blue guy's p much always on the brain.

I have a Spotify playlist that I occasionally add to, but currently on there is:

Is She Really Going Out With Him? by Joe Jackson - self deprecating, but also kind of a banger.

Carry on by fun - fun is an amazing band, and I definitely feel the lyricism and scale of their music would appeal to Hank.

Rain on Me by Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande - I don't know if Hank would listen to this, but it has his vibe.

Cells by They Might Be Giants - I'm sorry, but have you fucking heard a band that more encapsulates Hank's personality?

Dr. Wanna Do by Caro Emerald - my old Abigail RP partner used to use this as her ringtone for Hank. I think Hank likes some jazz.

Cure for Me by Aurora - again, not one I think Hank would listen to, but again, it feels like Hank to me.

Very Good Advice by Robert Smith - Hank totally digs new wave and the Cure, and literary references mixed in with that vibe? Totally.

Moonshine by Caravan Palace - this song leads into Lone Digger by the same band, which I put on Dark Beast's playlist, representing the continuity between them. It has the right energy.

There Ain't Half Been Some Clever Bastards by Ian Dury and the Blockheads - songs Hank would sing in the middle of the fight if it weren't full of swearing and comics were allowed to do that.

I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick - he does.

On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz - this just has exactly the right energy.

I Will Dare by The Replacements - "How smart are you? / How dumb am I? / Don't count any of my advice. / Oh, meet me any place or anywhere or anytime / Now I don't care, meet me tonight / If you will dare, I might dare."

Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift - another one that doesn't feel quite like something Hank would listen to, but I think we can all relate to this song a little bit (does that make me a basic bitch? Maybe), and some of the lyrics are so awfully Hank. "I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror," like, fuck.

Turning Japanese by The Vapors - Iunno, I just think he'd like it. I often think that if I were gonna make an OG X-Factor movie, this is what would start the movie during a fight scene.

I would also like to give @brw a shoutout for their excellent Hank playlist, which introduced me to, among other things, Touch-Tone Telephone, which feels like Hank's theme song.

Oh, also, The Plastic Age by The Buggles. Hank absolutely loves prog-rock, you know he does. Oh, and showtunes! The man just will not stop singing, in the middle of fights or while being filmed for the nightly news, so he totally vibes with some Broadway. I'd also be lying if I said that Dust and Ashes doesn't feel like a New X-Men Grant Morrison Beast vibe all over. And Hank would love it! A musical based on War and Peace? Sign him the fuck up!

[stayecstatic]

WK 7 - WEREWOLF

You’re sitting in the deep forest. Your family took you on a camping trip, so you have the opportunity to look at the night sky. You notice it’s a full moon this time. You think to yourself, “that looks amazing.” Then you hear something in the distance. A howl coming from the deepest parts of the darkness. The noises get closer and closer. Rapid footsteps clashing against the leaves. Then there stood a werewolf, with the intention of eating you alive and dragging your body across the dense forest. In this blog, we will see how one full moon can change someone’s instinct for survival.

Werewolves, or “lycanthropy” dates back to thousands of years across various cultures. The earliest legends appear in ancient Greek and Roman mythology. In Greek myth, King Lycaon was transformed into a wolf by Zeus as punishment for serving human flesh to the gods, giving rise to the term “lycanthropy.” In medieval Europe, werewolf legends took hold with the belief that people could transform into wolves through witchcraft, curses, or by donning a wolf skin. Fear of werewolves led to hunts and trials, much like witch trials, especially during the 15th to 18th centuries. Modern werewolf stories, especially through literature and film, have evolved to depict werewolves as humans cursed to transform uncontrollably during a full moon, symbolizing the inner struggle between civilization and primal instincts.

Possible sightings of a monsterous werewolf do exist, let’s see a story about them…

“Not a local legend, but a family story. My grandmother swears up and down that one night decades ago she drove past a giant bipedal dog-creature. We all call it her werewolf story.

Apparently it was late at night, she was driving through a rural area from her nursing shift at the hospital, and she thought she saw a big black dog off the side of the road. She loves dogs, so she slowed down to see if she could call it over, but when she got close it stood up on two legs and was at least as tall as a person. Claims it stared her down as she sped off in absolute terror.

Personally, I’d put my money on a black bear. She’d recently moved from a state with no bears at all, so I can see how someone exhausted from a long night shift who’s never seen a bear in person might mistake one standing up for a terrifying man-dog creature in the dark. But childhood me definitely thought my nana saw a real werewolf. Not a local legend, but a family story. My grandmother swears up and down that one night decades ago she drove past a giant bipedal dog-creature. We all call it her werewolf story.”

Who knows? Was it a black bear? Or was it the night’s deadliest predator? You decide.

Bloodborne is a dark action RPG by FromSoftware, set in the haunting, Gothic city of Yharnam. Players assume the role of a Hunter, drawn to Yharnam in search of a mysterious remedy. They find the city plagued by a terrifying, bloodborne disease that transforms its citizens into monstrous beasts. As they delve deeper into the city’s twisted secrets, players face grotesque creatures, eerie landscapes, and powerful bosses inspired by cosmic horror and Lovecraftian themes.

In Bloodborne, werewolf-like creatures play a central role in both the game’s atmosphere and lore. Known as “beasts,” they are Yharnam’s inhabitants transformed by a mysterious plague that spreads through the city’s blood-based rituals. These beasts, twisted and feral, embody the terrifying results of humans succumbing to their primal instincts under the influence of tainted blood.

There are different types of werewolves in the game…

Scourge Beasts: These are Yharnamites in an early stage of transformation, retaining some human features but developing elongated limbs, fur, and snarling fangs. Scourge Beasts are fast, brutal, and roam the streets, often in packs.

Lycans: In more advanced stages, some citizens take on an even more monstrous, wolf-like form. These creatures are larger, with skeletal frames, claws, and complete loss of human characteristics.

leric Beasts: Larger boss-like enemies, such as the Cleric Beast, represent extreme transformations. These were likely former clergy members who used blood rituals in their practices, mutating them into massive, grotesque beasts as a result.

The werewolf-like beasts in Bloodborne symbolize humanity’s descent into monstrosity and the consequences of playing with forbidden blood. Their existence ties into the game’s themes of hubris, as Yharnam’s citizens, in their obsession with healing and immortality, rely on blood that ultimately corrupts them.

Twilight (2008) (I hate these movies) is a romantic fantasy film based on Stephenie Meyer’s novel of the same name. The story follows Bella Swan, a teenage girl who moves to the small town of Forks, Washington, and falls in love with Edward Cullen, a mysterious and brooding young man who she soon discovers is a vampire. Despite their intense attraction, their romance is complicated by Edward’s vampire nature and his struggle to control his bloodlust around Bella.

In Twilight, werewolves are introduced as shape-shifters from the Quileute tribe, a group of Native American protectors who can transform into wolves. Though they are not traditional werewolves, they embody the werewolf spirit, taking on the role of guardians and protectors against vampires. The werewolves’ abilities are triggered when vampires pose a threat to their tribe or territory, leading to their transformation. Unlike classic werewolves, these shape-shifters can transform at will rather than only under a full moon. Their transformations are tied to emotional control and are often triggered by anger or intense emotions. In wolf form, they are larger and stronger than natural wolves, with heightened senses and enhanced speed. Each werewolf has a distinct look, reflecting their personality and status within the pack. The pack, led by Sam Uley, includes Jacob Black, Bella’s close friend, who later plays a significant role in her life and the overall story. Werewolves have a deep connection with one another, communicating telepathically in wolf form and sharing a strong pack bond.

The werewolves have an ancient rivalry with vampires, fueled by past conflicts and their role as natural protectors of humanity. This rivalry complicates Bella’s relationship with Edward, especially as Jacob and the pack become more protective of Bella.

Here’s an example of Jacob’s transformation. I’d rather not going about this corny movie anymore

To close this blog off, I never really looked into werewolves. I always knew fictional people transformed into them when it’s a full moon. My first ever time seeing werewolves was from when I watched Twilight when I was younger. Even when I was younger, I hated that movie. I’m not sorry. It’s probably the only romance movie I won’t ever watch again. I’d rather watch The Titanic. Honestly, turning into a werewolf when it’s a full moon it’s a great concept. It also makes a lot of sense. I always thought werewolves and wolves were the same thing, but one is clearly much realer than the other. Wolves and other wild animals is probably the reason why I don’t like camping outside. Werewolves are a fun and interesting concept such I’d explore more.

The next time you go outside in the middle of the night, look up in the sky.. it might be a warning of what’s next to come for the rest of your life.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

Going all out on this because Dot did an amazing job with these questions:

🧩, 🦴, 🥝, ❄️ & 🦷 for the ask game, please <3!

KEZ YOU OUT HERE SPOILING MEEE 🥰🥰💖💖

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

9 times out of 10 it’s either first person POV, a character waking up for the day age describing themselves as they look in a mirror, or WALLS of text. Formatting and first paragraph will always destroy my perception of a fic, and it doesn’t matter how good it is even two sentences after that.

Another more esoteric thing is any kind of dad’s best friend or stepfather or barely legal/he’s too old for me trope. I think those are literally the most vile fucking shit, and I just block on site. And I’m all for taboos, and people writing what they want, but I’ve never seen that shit written well nor on a blog that isn’t sparkly and pink and giving off major DDlg vibes. Fucking stomach turning.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

Answered this guy here! But I’ll add a few others that aren’t pieces of media dfhj. The words: abattoir, incandescent, butcher, slaughter, dappled. Different deep jewel shades of blue and green. Animal eyes. Bones in odd places. Videos of interesting women cooking. Dreams about: mothers, children, fire, the apocalypse, all my lost true loves, every corner of the town I visit that I should mark on map.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what’s the most recent lie you told?

I lie quite a bit, but it used to be that almost every word out of my mouth was an exaggerated abs pointless lie dfhjd. Yay growing up in dysfunctional household! These days I’m much more conscientious and purposeful about being honest, and I’m always trying to improve, just going with white lies about stuff at work to make my life easier (“I need to use the restroom” means I’m going for a smoke), or at home to keep things smoother (“They were out of X creamer” means I forgot).

Most recent lie was this evening when I told my sister I had left the store and I couldn’t get her a certain brand of energy drink, but I was in the checkout line and didn’t want to go back through lmao.

❄️ ⇢ what’s your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

HO BOY SO MANY DFHJ. These are more vibes than anything solid sfhj. In alphabetical order:

@alittleposhtoad grieving in a cold place, love that has kindling in friendship, oranges peeled by one set of hands for another, tea in an old electric kettle on a black night, you can always come home here and home is what you call my head on your chest.

@dotcie two weirdos walk into a dive bar, and their mutually assured obsession exhibits as mutually assured destruction, sweating under a street lamp in a town where tourists don’t go at 3am with a man you swore you’d never see again, bedsheets they smell like sweat and home under an open window.

@kastlequill cannibalism as a type of taboo and closed religion, rage wielded elegant and precise like a blade, thought put into evils until they’re extrapolated into facets of humanity, the dichotomy of suffering as holiness and pointlessness, dangerous men they have either accepted or full on love the blood in their mouths, cities at sunset with the lights glittering on.

@parttimeprophet hey babe hehe. Animal hated paid back in animal brutality, cold women with colder determination, hell and religion and the death of god and the apocalypse, lipstick that glimmers like rubies, men that love the collars around their necks.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

More wisdom: take breathers as much as you can in any area of life - steal then when you can at work, in hobbies, in talking, in cleaning - whether it’s 5 mins or 5 months, you need to rest, shit will be waiting for you when you get back. Don’t write down anything you don’t want read. Horses and boats are fun hobbies, but you can have the same financial experience by throwing wads of cash in a bonfire.

More life hacks: if you want to buy a used car, go for a Honda, bc you can beat the dog shit out of them for 30 years and they’ll still run like a clock. To save money, don’t get addicted to coke. The secret to the best homemade fried chicken you’ve ever had in your life is a pinch of cinnamon in your seasoned flour, and to make it crispy add a tablespoon of baking soda. Cream of tartar will make it meringue not break, but if you use too much it will taste hella metallic. 2 drops of dandelion tincture in a shot glass worth of water helps with liver and gallbladder inflammation - that’s Appalachian not crystal woowoo medicine. Don’t whistle outside at night.