#i’ve never felt such a deep pit in my body in my life

[waste-0f-spacee]

sitting here waiting and trying to figure out when the time is to put down my cat is the most terrifying traumatizing thing i’ve ever experienced. on top of the fact i’m terrified he’s going to suddenly die in the meantime. he seems to be doing ok today. he ate a bunch of food and he’s been napping on my heated blanket. but i can just tell he’s tired. i don’t want him to suffer but i don’t want to let him go too early bc i want to soak up every moment with him while i can.

[slytherinshua]

FIRST KISS

genre. fluff. friends to lovers. mutual pining. they're both shy beans. warnings. kissing. pairing. bestfriend!anton x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. hannie my favourite anton stan happy birthday and remember i love you so much!!

“I have a really bad predicament, and you don’t have to agree to help me, but I really need help and I don’t know who else to ask.” 

Anton looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your anxious words. What could possibly be happening to get you this worked up?

“What is it?”

You sighed, “I’ve never had my first kiss.”

“What?” Anton was even more confused now. What did he, your best friend, have anything to do with this? 

“And my best friend set me up with a blind date but I’m scared he’s going to kiss me and I don’t want to have my first kiss with someone I’ve just met.” You spilled the rest, nerves building up in the pit of your stomach.

“Can’t you just say no if he asks to kiss you? Any decent guy should know that consent is key.” Anton tsked.

“I know, I know, but—” You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, unsure of how to word what you were trying to say.

“But?” 

“But I’m scared I won’t be able to say no.” You confessed, feeling more embarrassed than you ever had in your entire life. 

“Oh.” Anton was silent for a moment, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, I…” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to ask, “I was hoping you’d… be my first kiss.”

Anton looked like a deer caught in headlights. To say this was unexpected would’ve been a serious understatement. He would have more easily believed that the ocean was yellow than to think that you— his best friend (and crush)— would be asking him to be your first kiss. And for what? Because you were too scared of having it with your blind date?

“O…kay?”

“What? Really? You’re not… weirded out by it?” You asked cautiously. 

Anton shook his head, “No. But why me?” Because you’ve been my crush since I was 10.

“Because… I know I can trust you.” You reasoned. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the entire reason why you wanted to kiss him either. “And I know the likelihood of my first kiss being an amazing experience is low, but I at least don’t want it to be with someone I never wished I ever kissed.”

“And you don’t think that kissing me will be something you regret?” Anton asked skeptically.

“No.” You said honestly.

Your best friend nodded, “Okay. As long as you’re comfortable with it. I’m happy to help.” He smiled, and you could feel all of the nervousness dissipate from your body. 

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. He shook his head no, that cute little smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “Really? And you don’t mind if I’m your first kiss?”

He giggled, “No. I trust you with anything, including this.”

You both stared at each other for a while, the silent question of who is going to make the first move? hanging in the air, making your stomach flurry with nerves. Anton eventually seemed to get the hint that you were far too nervous to initiate the kiss, and tentatively placed his hand on your jaw, tilting your chin up to him gently. 

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Anton was beautiful, it was a well-known fact, especially to you. But you rarely had the chance to look at him this up close. Your brain shut down. You forgot how to blink or breathe or do anything but stare at him, watching as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you anticipated the contact of his lips against yours. Your hands gripped the cushion of the couch tightly, but as soon as you felt his lips first touch yours, your entire body relaxed.

You were sure this moment would live in your brain forever. 

Anton’s lips tasted like coffee, slightly sweet. They were soft and plush and moulded with yours as if it was always meant to be. You found yourself falling closer to him, trying to make the kiss last for as long as possible. 

You had known what to expect from this moment to a certain extent. The amount of rom-coms you had watched over the years could give anyone an idea of how to kiss someone. But you hadn’t expected it to feel this exhilarating. It was as if every nerve in your body was alight, and the only things your senses could take in was Anton. 

A surge of disappointment hit you when Anton pulled away. You knew the kiss couldn’t last forever, but you wished it had been longer. You would fall right back onto Anton’s lips immediately if you had the guts to, but you didn’t want to overstep. 1 kiss was all he promised you. Everything else would go back to normal now. You were back to being his best friend. Nothing els—

“I have a crush on you.”

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to open your eyes to see his reaction. You’d much rather the ground swallow you up whole immediately. You never wanted to show your face around him again. How could you let those words slip past your lips? Were you really that brainless?

“What?” 

You blinked your eyes open nervously, a very flushed Anton facing you. He looked just as confused as when you had first asked him to kiss you. You gulped, trying to think of anything to say that could possibly save you from this situation. 

“I… You know what, just forget it-” 

“I can’t just forget the girl I like telling me she has a crush on me too.” He said quickly, catching your arm before you could escape the room.

“What?” You blinked blankly. Your brain felt like TV static. 

“I like you too. I always have…” Anton repeated shyly, eyes darting to a random spot on the wall so he didn’t have to look at you.

“Oh.” 

You wished you could have thought of some smooth response to his confession, but your brain had already been struggling to function since this morning. It had almost completely shut down when you asked him to kiss you, and was in the process of logging off forever since you first felt his lips on yours. 

“Are you still going on the blind date?” 

“Should I?” You asked lamely. 

“No.”

Another silence fell over the room, swirling together with the million unanswered questions you had. Neither you nor Anton had the confidence to speak again, and you were left to sit in silence, exchanging eye contact discreetly for several minutes. When the silence felt like it was starting to swallow you whole, you finally found the courage to clear your throat and ask him another question.

“Then, can I kiss you again?” 

You expected some hesitation from Anton. You weren’t sure why, given that he had just confessed he liked you too, but some part of your brain was convincing enough to make you think that maybe he didn’t feel as eager as you did to continue the kiss. 

He was clearly just as eager as you were, though. You barely had time to gauge his reaction before he was pressing his lips to yours again. You felt him sigh in content, completely melting against you and your soft lips. In Anton’s mind, this was the definition of bliss. The girl he had liked for so long finally kissing him. When he pulled away, there was only 1 question that Anton had on his mind.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He whispered, lips still close to yours, enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. The start of a smile formed on your lips.

“Yes.” 

The words barely left your mouth before Anton’s lips found their place on yours again. Now that he was yours, there was nothing he’d rather do than kiss you all day, memorising the feeling of the lips he had dreamed of tasting for years. 

He regretted not confessing to you sooner. If this was what he had been missing out on, he would have mustered up the courage to tell you when you were still in high school. But, regardless, he was proud that he was your first kiss. He had always wanted you to be the first person he kissed, which was why he always rejected any girl who confessed to him. His eyes had only ever been on you for years. Now that he found his place, lips intertwined with yours, he felt that the moment couldn’t have possibly been more perfect.

↳ riize taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,,

@blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @evalevaeva,, @lecheugo,, @wccycc,,

@seunghancore,, @planetkiimchi,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,,

@talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @soheecore,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows

[alwaysmicado]

Hi Love!!, love your works! Do you have your request open? Or if you just open to my insecurity talk🫣😅, well i’m curious about your take on reader’s insecurity on their boobs *shocking* by their real life’s average size theirs are bigger (that’s the first insecurity) and by the online’s appearance (like how social media and corn looked to them) theirs are just not the type that is appealing (in their opinion) well if it’s too much i’m sorry and the world is still going on and the sun is still shinning if they’re just accept it is what it is. I love your works, have i said that? I’ll say it again, im justt ugh im loving it to the point of i need to consume it everyday, and i love you thanks for your masterpieces!!

Anon, I’m kissing your forehead and holding you close 🤍🫂 Thank you so much for your support! I’ve had my fair share of body image issues, so I get it, BUT I want you to know that you’re beautiful, your boobs are amazing just the way they are, and there’s zero reason to feel insecure.

Your body is part of what makes you, you—and that is wonderful.

In His Eyes

1.8k | Dieter Bravo x f!reader | 18+

Warnings: insecure!reader, fluff, sweet!Dieter, sex talk A/N: My mind went straight to Dieter somehow...he just strikes me as a tits guy. Happy reading! 🤍

The glitzy world of Hollywood feels like another universe, a place where everyone is unnaturally beautiful, perfectly polished, and always on display.

Ever since you started dating Dieter, that world has been closer than you ever expected it to be. It’s like being constantly thrown into the deep end of a pool you didn’t even want to swim in, surrounded by model-like women who make you feel smaller by comparison.

It’s not that Dieter makes you feel this way—he’s actually a lot more down-to-earth than you’d expected for someone who is, well, Dieter Bravo. But the groupies, the social media influencers, the actresses at those Hollywood parties—they make you feel it.

Like no matter how much Dieter is into you, there’s always going to be someone thinner, prettier, younger, with smoother skin and...nicer tits.

You’ve always hated yours.

They’re big, heavy, not the gravity-defying, perky kind you see on social media or in porn. There’s some sag, stretch marks that remind you they’re real, but not what’s considered “ideal.” Dieter’s never said anything about it, but lately, it’s all you can think about. Every time you see him surrounded by those women, it gnaws at you, leaving a pit of insecurity in your stomach.

You’re sitting on the couch in his apartment, your phone clutched in your hand as you scroll through Instagram, heart sinking with every photo you see. Dieter’s out at some event—another movie premiere, another round of beautiful people all posing for the camera. You hadn’t felt like going tonight, too overwhelmed by your own self-doubt to put on a dress and act like you belonged in that world.

You try to shake the feeling off, but it lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Why does he even like me? you wonder, staring at a picture of some model with a perfect hourglass figure. What’s stopping him from being with someone like her?

The door opens, and Dieter steps in, still looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, his tie slightly loosened, a lazy smile on his face.

“Hey, babe,” he calls out, kicking off his shoes as he makes his way over to you. “You should’ve come. It was a circus, but the drinks were free, so...you know, could’ve been worse.”

You force a smile, closing out of Instagram and setting your phone down. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. I’m glad you had a good time, though.”

Dieter pauses, eyeing you for a moment before plopping down on the couch beside you. “You’ve been ‘not feeling it’ a lot lately. Something wrong?”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just...stuff. It’s nothing.”

“Come on, don’t give me that,” he says, nudging you with his elbow, that familiar grin on his face. “You think I don’t notice when something’s up? You’ve been avoiding these events like the plague, and now you’re sitting here in the dark. That’s not you.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush it off or tell him the truth. Dieter’s easygoing, playful, not the kind of guy who dives into serious conversations. But he’s also observant, and you know he won’t let it go.

“I just...” you begin, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately.”

Dieter’s grin falters, his brow furrowing slightly. “Insecure about what?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “About...me. My body. My boobs.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the words hanging heavily in the air. You brace yourself for whatever reaction might come, but Dieter just blinks at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate.

“You’re constantly around these beautiful women,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “These perfect, gorgeous actresses and models and whatnot...and yeah, sometimes I feel like garbage compared to them. Especially...I mean, my tits aren’t...”

You trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. You expect Dieter to brush it off, to laugh it away or make a joke. But instead, he shifts, turning to face you fully, his expression surprisingly serious for once.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” he says, holding up a hand. “You’re feeling insecure because of them? Because of all those...what? Barely legal models and influencers who’ve already had ten plastic surgeries by the time they turned eighteen? Babe, they’re literally paid to look like that. That’s their whole deal—selling a fantasy. It’s not real.”

You glance down, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you again. “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier when it’s all I see here. I just...I can’t stop thinking that one day you’ll realize you could be with someone like that instead of...me.”

Dieter stares at you for a second, then lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Your stomach twists, and you can’t help but wince. “No, I’m not kidding. This isn’t funny to me.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry.” He reaches out, grabbing your hands, his grip warm and grounding. “I get that you’re serious. But you’ve got this all wrong.”

You frown, unsure of what he means, but Dieter leans in, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his voice lower and softer now. “You think I’m into you despite how you look? You think I’m sitting here going, ‘Well, I guess I’ll settle for her, even though there’s all these other women’? That’s not how this works, babe.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “Yeah, but all your exes had–”

“Let me be crystal clear,” he interrupts, squeezing your hands a little tighter. “I’m with you because I wanna be with you. And that includes your smart mouth, your amazing brain, and your beautiful body. Every part of it.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you still can’t shake the doubt. “But my boobs–”

“Are fucking perfect,” he cuts in, his eyes flicking down to your chest before meeting your gaze again. “Jesus, how many boners do you need to give me just from existing in the same vicinity as me before you start to believe it?”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “You’re a dork.”

Dieter lets go of your hands and moves closer, his fingers sliding up to gently cup your face. “I may very well be, but I’m also serious. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his again, his voice steady and insistent. “I’m a shallow, sex-obsessed, movie star, right? If I wasn’t into every inch of you, why the hell would I still be here?”

You crack a smile at his self-deprecation, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. “I dunno. Maybe you love other parts of me and take the bad with the good?”

Dieter groans softly, leaning against the couch, his hands dropping to your waist. “You don’t really believe that, do you? And, okay, you want me to be brutally honest?”

You nod, unsure but curious.

He smiles, his fingers grazing your waist as he speaks. “Every time you walk into a room, the first thing I notice? Your beautiful face, your radiance, how you light up the whole damn place with your presence. It’s like you pull all the air out of the room, and suddenly, there’s just you.”

“Oh, stop it…”

“I’m serious,” he insists, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips. “And then, a millisecond after that? Your tits.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Of course.”

“They’re amazing. Like, out-of-this-world amazing. They’re real, and soft, and they’re part of you. And trust me when I say, I’m not looking at anyone else. Not like that.”

His words are sinking in, but part of you still struggles to believe it. Unfortunately, the insecurities you’ve harbored for so long won’t just vanish with a few compliments, no matter how sweet they are.

“But I’m…never gonna look like the rest of your…friends or whatever. And it makes me feel like an outsider,” you say a little quieter now. “And I know you love me, and I know I’m too old to feel this way, I know, but I just…do.”

“Why would you want to look like them, though?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Um, what kind of question is that?” you ask incredulously. “Because they’re beautiful and successful and–”

“Fake,” Dieter interrupts bluntly, cutting you off without hesitation. “Airbrushed, filtered, and half of them are so miserable they can’t go to sleep without a cocktail of Percocet and vodka knocking them out. Trust me, I know.” He’s serious now, the playful tone gone. “Their lives? Their bodies? None of it is real. It’s smoke and mirrors, and it’s fucked up that it’s sold as something desirable.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. His hands move up, resting just below your ribcage, his gaze unwavering as he speaks.

“You’re real, babe. That’s what I want. I’m not interested in some blow-up doll version of a person. And even if I used to be into that, or if that’s what other people want—so what?” He leans in closer, the look in his big, warm puppy eyes making your heart race, clouding your senses. “I’m with you now. Because I want you. Because you’re the one that gets me out of bed in the morning and keeps me up at night.”

“Thank you, Dee,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, your heart swelling. You wrap your arms around him tightly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. His familiar scent and warmth surround you, comforting you in ways words alone can’t. His hands find their way to your back, gently rubbing, soothing. 

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing against your ear. At last, your mind is calm. 

“You know I’m constantly daydreaming about your tits, right?” Dieter murmurs suddenly, catching you off guard like only he can. “Playing with them for hours on end, burying my face in them, licking them, sucking on them…pressing them together and fucking them. Or just watching them bounce while you’re on top of me.” 

You laugh softly, shaking your head at how shameless he is, but your body responds to every word. “Dee…”

“It’s bad, okay? Can’t even really jerk off to porn anymore…I think you broke my brain, babe.”

You chuckle and pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “Be careful, or I might just start believing you.” 

“Yeah?” he grins, his hands never leaving your body.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, feeling the heat rising between you. “But I think I might need a little more..convincing.”

----- Thank you for reading! 🤍 Masterlist | inbox

[rae-writes]

all for you...

Dazai x twin!reader

wc : 1.k

warnings : angst, ambiguous ending, major character death [not reader or Dazai], blood, implied prior emotional/physical/[light] sexual abuse

synopsis : "I don't want to play this part but I do, all for you"

a/n : I...apologize for this

“Well now…this is quite the mess to clean up…” 

The splattered blood on the wall had begun to drip, sliding down the wood slowly and splashing onto the floor with faint ‘pit, pit’ echoes. There was an eerie, ringing, silence to the air and a tension that felt suffocating.

Something shifted when Mori turned to look at the two children who just witnessed the murder— they were no older than fourteen. 

“You twins are my witnesses…from now on, I will be the new boss of the Port Mafia, and the two of you…will stay by my side.”

Fukuzawa Yukichi and Mori Ogai sat at a small, cherry-wood table that was decorated with a glass china set for the tea they were talking over; it would’ve been a rather amusing sight, if the conversation topic hadn’t been so serious. 

While they both performed their positions as head of their respective organizations diligently- and extremely well- it was no secret that they were each getting higher up in their years. They thought it best to discuss who would potentially be taking over once they were retired together, as it would help maintain their mutual agreement between said organizations. 

“Your best candidate is Doppo Kunikida, is it not? I was fairly certain it was him who was acting in your stead whenever you could not.”

You and Chuuya stood directly behind Mori, with a small handful of your subordinates a couple of feet away; similarly, Fukuzawa had Kunikida and Dazai behind him, with the rest of the agency’s core members on standby. The two heads didn’t really need them here, as they could very well handle themselves against one another, however by this point, it was more or less a tradition. 

“That is correct. What about you? Surely you’re going to pick from your pool of executives, aren’t you?” 

There it was. That nauseous dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. It sunk into your bones, forcing a cold sweat to the surface of your skin as, instinctively, your flight or fight response tried to take over. 

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The sounds around you grow muffled so suddenly it makes your head spin and the scenery melts down into a memory of the executive meeting held a week ago.

“Do not mistake my words. I will continue as the Port Mafia’s head until it is apparent I am no longer able to fulfill my role; even then, my presence will not just disappear. This is my home and the organization I’ve dedicated my life to. I’m simply implying that we will need a suitable replacement when that time comes.” 

Rae glanced at Chuuya, finding him to be exactly who Mori was looking for. There was no one else in the room, or even the entire Port Mafia for that matter, who would be better suited to take over the position as boss. 

“And Dazai Osamu shall be just the person to do so.” 

No matter how sickening the feeling of fear and dread can be, anger will always be the secondary emotion. Even if that anger doesn’t last, it festers somewhere deep inside someone and builds until it’s crawling throughout their whole body— and suddenly it’s controlling them. It’s what takes over their mind like a parasite until it’s moving their legs, their fingers, their hands; until it acts on all those…scenarios in a person’s mind that were never meant to be born- that were only supposed to stay as impulsive thoughts. It’s then that the entire world a person experiences can be flipped upside down and drowned in the raging tides their anger brought. 

It was that anger that had your body moving on autopilot while you just…watched. Like you were a prisoner in your own mind, watching something on the tv screen. 

Your feet took a few steps forward before your hand was reaching for Mori’s teacup and slamming it on the edge of the table, shattering the glass. It left one big shard in your grasp. Your free hand had come up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the long strands of black hair before yanking, forcing him to look at you with an exposed neck. 

When his red-purple hues met yours, your movements became your own. A gasp tore from your throat as you took in the sight in front of you, ragged breathing making you tremble. It was now that you were able to consciously think about your actions. 

And you thought about Osamu. 

You thought about everything he had to go through— everything Mori forced him to go through. 

You thought about that shine he had in his eyes that dulled over the years, only returning when he’d escaped Mori and the Port Mafia. You thought about the night he left, the way he cried over Odasaku and the way he cried about not wanting to leave you; you’d never seen him cry before. You thought about the hope in his eyes as you helped him leave and the genuine smile he’d given you two years later when you saw him again in the Agency. 

You thought about Mori’s sick, twisted version of affection— or ‘love’ as he called it sometimes. About the way he treated the two of you. The way he talked, manipulated, used, touched the two of you. 

As you gazed into the eyes of your tormentor- the man who was planning to drag your brother back to the darkness that had already consumed you- all that was swimming in those devil eyes was some warped version of pride; of satisfaction. 

His voice echoed in your mind, words he didn’t even need to voice aloud because he’d engrained them into you, seeping disgustingly- permanently- into your core. 

‘If I cannot have Osamu, I will gladly have you instead, my precious Y/n.’ 

With steady hands, though a trembling heart, you forced the broken piece of china into the flesh of Mori’s neck. And with a chilling cry, you dragged it across the entire expanse of his throat; his blood was now coating your face. 

It would’ve been a rather amusing sight- the horror plastered across everyone’s faces…if the situation hadn’t been so serious. 

“He…he was going to ask Osamu to be the next boss…and I couldn’t— I wouldn’t let him. Not you, Osamu.” Your voice cracked as you looked over at your brother, heart clenching when he looked at you with such…mortification. “Anyone but you.” 

And Osamu thought back to you. 

He thought back to all those times your eyes darkened in rage whenever Mori did something to him. He thought back to how you’d always yell at Mori for hurting him, whether physically or mentally. He thought back to the nights you promised him you’d help him shove down that darkness Mori festered in him. He thought about the promise you made him when he left the mafia: the promise that you’d be the one to kill Mori for what he’d done to the two of you. 

As he gazed into the eyes of his twin sibling- standing with blood on their face after just repeating the cycle, all for him- he could see the fear of what you’d just done. The determination to be better than Mori...and the love. Love for him. 

He should’ve known, his heart screams. He should’ve known this would happen, that you’d snap. He should’ve stopped you, he should’ve talked to you, he should’ve been there for you, because now—

. . .

After a haunting moment of ringing silence, the only person who dares to move is Chuuya Nakahara; the redhead kneels, sliding his hat off as he bows his head, “All hail the new Port Mafia boss, Dazai Y/n.”

[stardustvanfleet]

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

//

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, “...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

•••••••••••••••••••��

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

[therabbitthatpostthings]

I hope you all know I cannot for the life of me write fight scenes! OMG this took so long. Anyway....this is continuation of my Giyuu Secret Family AU story (I guess). She/Her Pronouns.

It had been another month since the last encounter with Giyuu’s “no-longer-a-secret” secret family. A bit of normalcy, or what the Hashira consider normal, set back in. That would be if Shinobu and Mitsuri had not just found Tomioka (Y/N) passed out down the road from Butterfly Mansion! They both rushed to her battered and bruised body. Shinobu could feel a full pulse on her neck. (Y/N) was alive, thankfully.

“We should send for Tomioka,” Mitsuri urged, hoisting (Y/N)’s limp body into her arms.

“No…”

“Lady Tomioka, please don’t strain yourself,” Shinobu advised. She ushered the two inside quickly. (Y/N)’s muttering was soon forgotten as the Butterfly Girls were quick to take her off Mitsuri’s hands. Mitsuri stood by, worried, as they started to bandage (Y/N).

Time seemed to move slower as they waited for her to wake up. They were both relieved to see (Y/N) sitting up and eating upon coming back to the room.

“Lady Tomioka! I’m glad you’re okay!” Mitsuri cheered.

“I’m the one that’s grateful you two found me.” She smiled. She gazed down at her bandaged arms. “For a demon so weak it’s  blood demon art was no joke.”

“Both your arms have burns on them.” Shinobu said.

“Yeah, all the poison burned off in the sunrise.” She sighed.

“You defeated it this morning?” Shinobu asked.

(Y/N) smiled sheepishly, “It’s no big deal! I promise! My master says I get a little too carried away sometimes.”

It was an awkward position to be in now that’s the big secret is out. (Y/N) felt she should be more casual but how can one be casual with two Hashira in the room? Especially after they found you passed out. “Thank you, again…”

“It’s nothing Lady Tomioka-“

“(Y/N). It’s fine if you call me (Y/N).”

Shinobu smiled, “It’s nothing (Y/N), you’re very strong. I’ll send for Tomioka-”

“No!” (Y/N) yelled to the shock of both women. “Giyuu will worry himself sick if he sees me like this.”

Shinobu gave a sort of skeptical look, “I know he seems cold and hard to understand but Giyuu is the kindest soul I’ve ever met.”

Neither woman could deny her that. After all, he showed mercy to Kamado and his sister. A kindness they could never.

“You sound so in love,” Mitsuri smiled. “What drew you to Tomioka?”

A deep blush crept across (Y/N)’s face as she remembered their younger years, “Nothing at first, he was always kind to me but I started to notice… he was just like me.”

(Y/N) had been found wandering the forest alone and barefoot as a child. She didn’t remember her village or even her family name. She had a thousand yard stare, an emotional and unsettling demeanor for a child so young. It was clear to the swordsman who had found her that this child was the sole survivor of a demon attack and she would never be the same again.

“Our sword masters were both retired Hashira, we had never met though. He bought me dinner after my first big mission.”

—

(Y/N) thought that becoming a demon slayer would make life easier. As in being able to fight back but, you can’t fight against the motherly love of your Master’s wife. Even after giving some food to fellow slayers the bag at her side still did a number on her feet and shoulder. The dull ache did take away from the general anxiety that had plagued her since last night. Your crow, Chiyoko, delivered the news that you would be heading to a village down south to aid in their demon crisis. There was no mention of other slayers accompanying you. You were doing this alone.

It’s a daunting task and a heavy burden but, you were a demon slayer nonetheless. A friend of yours offered to come by once they wrapped up their mission in the next village east to yours. Still, that pit of anxiety wouldn’t leave. At least the heavy shifting of the bag from one shoulder to another gave you momentary relief as you came to a fork in the road.

“Good luck.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin! You quickly swung your sword in front of you ready to face the thing before but, you only saw a man. He looked your age, long dark hair tied back, deep blue eyes and a checkered haori. Something your master mentioned crossed your mind.

“Be on the lookout for Urokodaki’s student. He’s a Hashira…”

“Tomioka…Giyuu?” You say hesitantly, lowering your sword.

“Yes?”

Your face flushed a bright red. You were quick to sheath your sword and apologize to him. “I didn’t notice you this whole time! I’m so sorry!”

“No need.” He replied plainly, turning down the path opposite of yours.

“Um- Good luck!” You called back. He didn’t respond or turn around. That was probably for the best. You had embarrassed yourself enough. Chiyoko swooped back down and landed on your shoulder. “Did you hear any of that girl?”

“You’ll be at the village before nightfall!” She chirped.

“Ah, so it was that bad.”

—

The village was tucked away in the valley and surrounded by a cool mist.The trees swayed almost unnaturally like creeping hands trying to grab you. There had been no birds for a mile now. The forest fell quiet. All life had just stopped, not disappeared, just stopped. Something was there, you could feel it. Entering the village, it was smaller than you thought it would be. There were many people walking around, surely more than a few buildings could hold. The villagers went about their day completely unbothered by your presence. It was often you wouldn’t get recognized or acknowledged but the people here were treating you like you were invisible. Even when they bumped into you, they kept their heads down. The shoddily built houses loomed over you, held together with wooden beams and prayers. Not even the shops had signs hanging above them. You wandered aimlessly around the village or what seemed to remain of it. Just past the main commerce area was the renents of a house. The dirt seemed to be swirled in the giant crater. More were haphazardly littered across down the road towards the forest. You finally found what you thought would be an inn and was met by a young girl with braided pigtails.

“Hello? Do you have a room for the night?” You asked.

She stared at you blankly, examining you. Wordlessly she walked from behind the desk and beckoned you to follow her. The halls were quiet but you felt the peering eyes from behind the closed doors. “It sure is misty outside, is it always like that?”

She stayed silent.

“A-Are your parents not home? Do you run this whole place by yourself?”

“You ask too many questions.” she said plainly. She pulled the door open and ushered you to go inside. “You should leave tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

She sighs with a slight twitch of the eyebrow. She goes to turn back into the hall and you grab onto her arm, “Is there somewhere here you’re afraid of? Someone that can hear you if you say too much?”

She snatched her arm back and hurried back down the hall. You quietly closed the door back and listened for any noise. The inn settled and all was quiet again.

Is it in the Inn? No, there are people here, they are still alive. Is this its resting place during the day? It’s near the destroyed houses…

“Here you go Chiyoko,” you handed her a small note. “Maybe the next village will have something for you to eat. Be back soon.” Watching Chiyoko fly off into the sunset, you resigned yourself to a very eventful night.

Investigating proved to be hellish. No one wanted to talk, not even the children. It was like everyone was trained to be quiet?! Just how strong was this demon? You couldn’t even buy something from the shop without ominous stares and the clerk, all too happy to usher you out. Upon exploring the surrounding forest, the road from the village led deeper out and only welcomed more crater and debris. By the looks of it all, the demon was luring people deeper into the town. At this rate everyone was as good as dead. The forest proved to be just as creepy. The trees stretched abnormally high in the sky, if they had any leaves they would have blocked out the setting sun. The surrounding area lacked any life or color, like after a fire.

Before you could react a jagged tree branch shot out and grabbed your leg. It swung you around violently as she tried to swing your sword at the branch. You were able to slice it and the tree let out a loud hiss and shriveled into a pile of ash. “Show yourself!”

You heard a giggle circle around you. The vine tightened as a figure appeared from the shadows. It had a dark body that stretched as tall as the trees it hid behind. It’s long, spindly arm came out to hold your face, “What a pretty one you are.”

You yanked your head away from its grasp, “I might just let you live if you leave this village now!”

“You little swordsmen don’t scare me.” They laughed. You felt a tug. The ground opened up and the vines started to pull you down into the earth. You thrashed wildly against the vines as they pulled your body underground. The light faded and all you felt was the cold dirt. You could feel the vines pulling you down. You struggled to hold your breath and your sword as the vines began to speed up. You finally caught your breath as you were dropped into an underground cave. You cursed as you coughed up the dirt.

“Another one..” someone whispered. There was a small group of people, dirty and their clothes ripped. They huddled on the other side of the cave. Behind you were decomposing bodies wrapped in vines, their only remains were the black demon slayer uniforms they wore. You stifle a scream and back onto your feet. The people jolted back as you did. The cave wasn’t too big. You were completely surrounded on all sides. The roof was interconnected with vines all converging to the one large hole that the vines came from.

“How long have you all been down here?” You asked.

“A week, at least I think so.” The older man spoke up. “However, that thing has been hunting us for months. It started out slow with someone going missing but then it got stronger.”

“The monster destroyed our homes and took us in our sleep.” A woman said.

So that’s it… You asked, “How often does that hole open up?”

“Every night.” she replied “He brings back whatever he didn’t eat here.”

You drew your sword back, “I don’t have that kind of time.”

You started to hack away at the vines around the body. If he won’t come down here, you will fo to him! You were able to cut one loose and it made the same hissing noise. The vine around the body started to rot and turn to black ash. All that remained were broken bones. The vines still descending from the earth started to retract. You grabbed onto it and wrapped it around your wrist pulling it further and further down. “Come on you coward!”

“Miss please!” a young boy called out. “He’ll eat you!”

“If I don't! He’ll eat all of you!” The vine started to tighten around your wrist but you still kept pulling back. “I will not let this demon terrorize anyone anymore!”

The hole opened up wide and pulled you up through the dirt. Your body was slammed onto the surface. “I hate slayers like yourself, you never know when to lie over and die!”

You got to your feet and took off running towards him, swinging at his arms. The demon’s vines sliced through the air. Trees cracked under the weight of both of your attacks. The tree twisted and bent as it lunged at it and struck the ground. The ground shook and shot up from under you. The trees spiraled around you, crunching at the earth where you stood. You jumped from one to the other and slid down the vines. You could see the demon at the bottom, still attached to the roots. You drew your sword back and swung it towards its head!

The demon let out a wicked cackle as you saw its body reattach itself. “You cannot kill me as easily.”

“I-I…I missed.”

The demon broke out into a fit of laughter, almost doubling over, “You should have stayed down there to die!”

More trees shot into the air and you were quick to slice them all, with a loud hiss. The ash clouded the air and hung heavy in your chest as you landed. The demon stood before you, its feet and arms spread into tree trunks that buried itself into the ground. You coughed, “Spores- really?”

“What will you do, little slayer? I won’t be moved.” he sneered.

Just what the hell does it take to kill this thing! How do you kill a tree!?

The demon swung its arm towards you and knocked you back into another tree. This started to coil around your leg but you quickly cut it off and watched it hiss. The realization set in. The demon had hunched forward with its arms and legs retracting into the ground. Around its body are two lanky trees that twisted and coiled into the air like tentacles. You steadied yourself on the ground in preparation. No matter what happened you knew you couldn’t last until morning, especially since most of these trees seemed to be part of its control and they held up just fine in the sunlight. You couldn’t wait for your friend in the next town over either. These people solely depended on you. You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Giving up demon slayer?” he sneered.

I can do this… I can do this!

You pushed yourself off your back foot and took a running start towards the closet decrepit tree and sliced it. Then to another. Another, and another. The demon’s branches swung towards you and coiled around yourself and trees still standing. You raised it towards its body to slice on the lanky tree branches. The other was able to grab you by your leg and while it dragged you towards it you plunged the sword into it. The demon finally let out a loud screech as it turned to reach for you. The incoming vines sliced in two across your blade as you gained distance on the demon still planted firmly in the ground. The demon started to get frantic, sending more vines out to try and slow you down but to no avail. He lost sight of you amongst the tangle of vines. A sharp pain jolted in his lower half as one of his roots was severed from the earth. One after another he tried desperately to call what trees he still controlled to his aid. The one remaining tree was able to coil around your legs and sling you into the air. Before the demon could try to reattach his root your blad came down across its neck. The head rolled a ways away and disappeared into dust, as did the one tree remaining and the roots.

You breathed heavily as adrenaline was still rushing towards you. Your head was ringing, you almost didn’t process the voice calling to you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N) are you okay?!”

Your friend caught you as you almost fell over. “Masato..?”

“Oh (Y/N), I was so worried about you!” She hugged you tightly. “The demon, is it gone?!”

“It is…” You breathed out. “Go alert the villagers please, we need to dig the survivors out.”

“Okay! Please rest!” she said and turned to other slayers you didn’t notice were there either. Out from the sky came a familiar fluttering. Chiyoko nuzzled up against your cheek with worried chirps.

“Did I worry you Chiyoko, I’m sorry. Thank you for coming back for me.”

—

The village erupted in laughter and cries. So many worried families reunited with each other. The villagers couldn’t thank you enough. They showered you with treats and prayers and gratitude. The little inn girl even thanked you for returning her family. It would all be greater if you were so exhausted. Your feet ached on the path back home. You couldn’t wait to be bandaged up and sleep. Masato and the other slayers said their goodbyes as you came upon the split in the road. She smiled, “Get back home safely.”

“I will.” you sighed “Are you sure you don’t need me to tag along?”

“Nah, we’re meeting up with some others later on. You get home and sleep (Y/N).” Masato stated before going off down the road. You kinda just stood there for a moment, taking everything in. Though your shoulders still felt heavy with tiredness You felt lighter somehow. You had a jumping feeling in the pit of your stomach even though you couldn’t bring your feet to move. You saved those people. They looked so happy because you saved them. It felt nice but heavy. That was the best way to explain it, a heavy feeling you knew was good because it helped others but only you got to shoulder it. It will pass. You would fight another demon. It would come back and then pass again. And maybe, hopefully, the good feeling would last a little more.

Your thoughts left you as you heard someone walk towards you. To your shock it was Tomioka! You looked slightly surprised to see you, or at least a little bit interested. Hard to tell with him. “Are you done with your mission?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah, I am.” You started to walk forward with him. “How was your mission?”

“Fine,” he replied blankly, “Yours?”

“It was rough but I pulled through.” You were very unsure how long you should speak. Tomioka didn’t seem like the type to meander on. It was very awkward.

“You’re fast then.”

—

“And that was the extent of our conversation all the way back.” (Y/N) smiled.

“That sounds…so…like him,” Shinobu gave a half playful, half pitiful laugh. Even she had some hope that his spouse had a much more romantic meeting with him. It made way too much sense for him to be that awkward.

(Y/N) giggled, “Well I was only a Kanoe at the time, so I guess finishing at the speed of a Hashira was impressive. By the time we made it back I was starving and I came straight here.”

(Y/N) recounted seeing Giyuu talk outside the Butterfly Mansion with Rengoku. As the Flame Hashira walked away Giyuu bluntly asked if she was hungry. He admitted that Urokodaki has told him to look out for her but he had forgotten for two months and felt bad once he finally saw her. She was in such a bad shape that getting a hot meal from Giyuu calmed her nerves. He told her, “Come to me if you have a problem or want to eat again.”

“We became great friends from that point.”

Mitsuri felt her cheeks burn up as she watched (Y/N) smile. “Aw! You two are just too cute!”

[maisonaime]

Ilithyia's Blessings

I got Covid-19 as a college graduation/early Christmas present :) enjoy the fruits of me being stuck in my parent's basement.

Summary: Rewrite of Feyre's reaction to finding out about the risks of her pregnancy! I (like many) hated how this was dealt with, and would personally love to see her rip the entire IC a new one for that bullshit. Diverges from canon the moment Nesta leaves the townhouse. Heavy angst and hurt for all, BUT a happy ending! Please note that I am atrocious at writing dialogue so forgive me.

Warnings: Pregnancy complications, family dysfunction, mentions of past trauma, emotionally abusive & generally unhinged behavior from all!

Part 1:

As the last of Nesta’s burning fury trailed out of the door after her, Feyre’s eyes once again met Amren’s. The tears there had turned sharp as glass shards. Power imbued with the abundance of life nestled in the High Lady choked the air of the townhouse, damp and salty and so very wrong. They had been so very wrong. 

Amren did not falter, but her stance was one of false ease. She had never wished so badly to be well-versed in the nuances of emoting and made a note to herself to observe her peers' reactions more closely; that she might glean some useful mimicry for a similar situation in the future. A creature of preternatural stillnesses and pregnant silences, Amren waited until Feyre spoke in a voice so deep it may have been derived from the pits of the Mountains themselves. 

“How long have you all known?” 

“You should really ask your ma–” bared teeth cut her off.

“I asked you Amren. How long?” Feyre snarled.

It was becoming uncomfortable to breathe, reminiscent of the cloistered air of the Prison. Amren was struck with the sudden realization that her powers were no match for her High Lady, not anymore.  

“Too long” she admitted unflinchingly. “I will apologize for my part in it, but Rhysand had his reasons and I saw the practicality of it. As your friend, I know it was wrong. You must understand Feyre, I have to be the one person who can separate emotion from decisions in this Court, it’s my first nature and my duty as Rhys’ second.”

Feyre just stood there, eyes wide, breathing hard. Her tattooed hands still clutching her stomach as though the babe would rip its way into the world for all the horror she felt in that moment.

“Has it ever once occurred to you…” – her voice burned through the condensed ether like the birth of a star, Amren winced – “has it ever once occurred to any of you, that when Rhys made me High Lady, he made me High Lady of this Court, not just his High Lady. I am High Lady of the Night Court, I am your damn High Lady. And if you Amren are his second, then you are also mine.”

Tiny ancient one be damned, she needed backup for this. She only prayed Varian had the good sense to bring Elain back to the townhouse, no one else would do any good for this moment. 

And to think I was lecturing Nesta on respect.” she seethed. “To think that I’ve put up with this ridiculous sequestering of my family by my family. Elain and Nesta are flailing as they grapple with bodies and lives they were born and bred to fear, just as I did. We treat Elain like a vapid flower as if she is not burdened to see between fucking worlds. And you all act as though Nesta’s viciousness will tear chunks out of me but you forget she is my sister. I have known her my whole life and she has not torn my throat out yet. Vicious she may be, but at least she’s godsdamn honest.”

“No one is denying this Feyre but I don’t see–” 

“What this has to do with me? With my child? There’s plenty you lot are failing to fucking grapple with right now. The very basic premises of duty and friendship to start with. What about the principle of allowing a female control over her own life, her own body?” there was a jagged edge of panic making its way into her tone, the air grew impossibly tighter. 

At that moment the door banged open once again and Amren winced again as Morrigan pushed her way into the room against the wave of unyielding magic pulsing from Feyre. She silently cursed Varian.

“Feyre, I’m so sorry. If we had thought there was any other way to keep you and the babe safe–” she began before she was cut off by a dark wave of Feyre’s magic. Not the same magic that silenced Tamlin’s voice at the meeting of the High Lords, but a plume of magic that quite literally took the place of the air in Mor’s lungs, bringing her swiftly, silently to her knees.

“Surely you aren’t going to tell me you knew what was best for my womb Morrigan, you couldn’t even protect your own from desecration.” Feyre spat down at her.

Amren stood frozen in horror, watching Mor claw at her neck, eyes bulging and mouth agape like a fish out of water. The spell lasted only moments before air rushed back into her purpling face with a harsh gasp, but both Fae were still frozen in place before their High Lady. 

“You all seem to have forgotten, that I live and breathe the powers of all the Courts of Prythian. That I am Made, my sisters and I. We are creatures to be feared and served before we are loved. You’ve failed me, and in doing so you’ve failed this Court. Make sure you let Rhysand see me say that when he looks into your mind.”

Mor blanched, “Feyre you can’t leave now, Rhys and Madja are so close to finding an answer.” Where the hell was Rhys, how had he not yet sensed the chaos threatening to level the entire block of buildings the townhouse occupied?

“I can and I will. I am not safe here, nor is my child. I will seek refuge where I can find healers and friends who will allow me the dignity of deciding what I do with my body, my child. That I would put my life in the hands of a healer who answers to my mate over me, a husband who seeks to deceive me and involve my entire family in doing so? No, I would be a fool to give away my life so passively.” she paced before them frantically, power collecting into thick bands that coiled around Feyre in a churning, horrid shield. 

No longer their friend, no longer their family. A mother and a female burning with primal rage and fear for the safety of her child, guaranteed only by her ability to protect it. Protect it from the world, and in these agonized moments, protect it from her family. A family that could no longer be trusted.

“He will rip apart the world to find you and the babe Feyre, this won’t do any good.” Amren spoke as bluntly as usual, but the edge in her tone betrayed her wariness. 

“Let him try. I’ve never had the chance to test my powers against him, have never needed to until now. I confess I’m curious to see if I can inspire the fear in him that he’s attributed to my name.” The crazed glint in Feyre’s watery eyes was wholly unnerving. 

“Feyre, I’m begging you, don’t do this. We all lived with the fear of losing each other during the war– you and Rhys actually did. Don’t let this tear us all apart again.” Mor was practically weeping, still draped at Feyre’s feet in submission.

“Mor, it’s not my decisions that have led us here. I’ll leave it to you all to decide how to proceed; this Court seems to conceive of its most coordinated efforts without my knowledge.” Feyre had stopped pacing and closed her eyes, all of that asphyxiating power rushing from the room back into those bands of black power coalescing around her. The hair on the back of Amren’s neck stood tall.

“Will you return girl?” she asked quietly, refusing to look away from the fierce specter of power they had so woefully forsaken. Accepting that there was little they could do to stop the events that had been set in motion.

Feyre’s head snapped to her, eyes black with rage, looking every bit the Made Fae that could undo curses and courts. 

“I will return when I have proven to you all that I can give birth to my son without your duplicitous interference. I will return when I have a Court and friends and a mate that I trust to bend the knee, not bring me to my own.” she said with finality. 

The vortex of power around Feyre crackled and snapped as Rhys’ careful warding of Feyre’s body collapsed under her iron will. A new source of power, alarmed and frenetic and reeking of Rhys, swept through Velaris and into the townhouse. It crashed into the whorls of Feyre’s might with a piercing screech. The windows shattered sending glass through the air. Amren and Mor curled into themselves to avoid the spray.

When the chimes of falling glass had stopped and Mor and Amren could uncover their eyes, Feyre was gone. Where her scent, her power, her body had overwhelmed the room, there was absolutely nothing left to indicate that the High Lady of Night had ever stepped foot in the townhouse. 

Somewhere in the distance, mountains rumbled, birds took flight and the citizens of Velaris cowered as Rhysand let out an unearthly roar. 

[rebelwrites]

Twenty Three: Don’t Make A Scene

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

“How is everyone doing back home?” I hummed, leaning against the wall of the Ferrari hospitality area, a smoke hanging from my lips as I squinted at my phone screen trying to block out the Italian sun, even with the raybans shielding my eyes it wasn’t enough. Everything was different here, I had never really traveled outside of Charming, well apart from the occasional run with Jax back in my teenage years. But this was different, the warmth of the sun beating down against my skin felt like I was being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. There was something comforting about it and I couldn’t help but smile.

Everything so far had been somewhat of a culture shock, I had tried foods that I would have never dreamt of trying, and even though I was still trying to adjust to the time difference I was living my best life.

“Everyone is good, in fact everything is perfect,” Jax smiled back, there was something about it that didn’t sit right with me. Not only wasn’t it as bright as normal but he had a haunted look on his blue eyes.

“Tell that to your face,” I scoffed, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “You look like someone just took a shit on your Harley.”

I stared intently at my device, watching as my older brother ran his hands over his face. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he paused, obviously trying to think of what lie to spin. “There is nothing for you to worry about, I’ve got everything under control. Now enough about me, Squirt, how is Monza treating you?”

“It’s amazing, Jax,” I beamed. I finally felt free from the weight of the world that always seemed like it was crushing me into the dirt. Part of me felt bad for feeling like this, but I had quickly realized that taking care of Pops and the club had taken a toll on my mental health, so it was nice to have a break from it all. Although that didn’t stop me from missing everyone. “Everyone is amazing, and they are already treating me like family. Fred has taken the role of my body guard which is highly amusing,” pushing myself off the wall I decided it was time to head back into the garage, not wanting to miss the start of free practice.

“As in team principal, Fred Vassuer?”

“That’s the one, being the new kid on the block the press are trying to get the latest gossip but anytime they try and get too close to me whilst Fred is around he gets all protective of me. It’s kinda cute, reminds me of Pops.” I grinned, glancing over I noticed that the pit crew had formed what looked to be a human wall at the front of the garage. There was some sort of commotion going on, I wasn’t quite close enough to hear what was happening but the moment I heard my name being screamed I felt my blood boil. It had been years since I heard that scratchy voice, the sound alone sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Squirt, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost, you have gone white as a sheet.” Jax asked, causing me to shift my attention back to him.

“I think I fucking have,” I mumbled, trying to stop the anger brewing deep inside me from bubbling over, causing me to explode, this was not the place, “that bitch has a fucking death wish.” I growled, flicking my gaze between my brother’s face and the opening of the garage.

“I can fucking see her, let me speak to my daughter.”

“There is no way,” Charles growled, venom dripping from his words. This was the first time I had seen this side of him but I wasn’t scared, in fact my heart skipped a beat at how protective he was being. “Sur mon putain de cadavre. Over my fucking dead body.”

I could feel the anger radiating through the phone screen from my brother, from the look on his face I was adamant he was going to jump on a plane to personally take care of the waste of space that was my birth mother.

“I am gonna fucking kill her,” Jax seethed, “She has no right crawling back into your life now, god I am so fucking angry right now!”

Taking a deep breath I knew I was going to have to take control of this situation, this was not the type of press coverage the team needed.

“Jax, I gotta go, don’t worry about me, I can handle this bitch,” I said, not taking my eyes off Charles. I could feel the anger radiating off him from the other side of the garage. “Charles is gonna snap and that isn’t good for him or the team.”

“Don’t make too much of a scene Squirt,” he hummed, cocking his brow at me.

“No promises.” I shrugged, before quickly saying bye.

Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my jeans I let out a shaky breath, I hadn’t seen this bitch since she last tried to make contact with me and Pops and the club chased her out of town.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Fred asked, appearing at my side.

“Je le serai, une fois que j'aurai mis cette salope à terre. I will be, once I put that bitch down.” I growled, clenching my fist by my side. She had no right trying to worm her way back into my life, I didn’t need her, she was dead to me.

“Il suffit de ne pas salir le sol et des blocs de glace se trouvent dans le réfrigérateur si vous en avez besoin. Just don't dirty the floor, and there are ice packs in the fridge if you need them.” Fred chuckled, taking my shaking fist in his hands squeezing softly. “Don’t let her get to you, kiddo.”

Slowly nodding at the Frenchman standing in front of me, I took a deep breath trying to steady my heart rate. I knew I needed to confront her otherwise she would never leave and reporters were already gathering around the garage trying to get the best shot of the disruption to the weekend. Within a few short strides across the room I found myself standing next to Charles, my hand instantly finding his, not caring if I outed our relationship at this moment. I needed his touch to keep me grounded and calm because I did not want my face plastered all over the gossip sites.

“The fuck do you want?” I said keeping my voice low and emotionless.

“I want to make amends, you are my daughter at the end of the day,” she pleaded. “I’ve changed, I went through rehab, I’m clean just for you baby.”

Rolling my eyes at the confession, did she think I was stupid? Her pupils were the size of dinner plates, she couldn’t stand still to save her life and was excessively sweating. I knew what her game was here and she wasn’t going to succeed in creeping her way back into my life, using me to get money.

“You ain’t clean,” I scoffed, leaning further into Charles. “Do you really think I would believe you? I ain’t that vulnerable five year old you left living in squalor just so you could get your next fix.”

“Fred, il faut la faire sortir d'ici. Fred, we've got to get her out of here.” Charles said, turning to his team principal.

I was moments away from lunging forward tackling the person who abandoned me, the main cause of my trust issues, the reason I carried demons on my back, but before I could step forward Charles wrapped his arms around my shaking body, holding me tight as he managed to guide me through the garage back to his driver room.

Once the door was shut I felt my resolve crumble, my fingers went into my roots as I slumped on the floor letting out a strangled scream. “Who the fuck does she think she is, coming here trying to act like the caring mother.” I growled, “you should have let me rip her apart.”

“Sunshine,” Charles whispered, crouching in front of me, placing a hand on my knee. “You need these right now,” he said softly, handing me a pack of cigarettes.

“I don’t,” I whispered, resting my hand on his cheek. “I just need you.”

“Je suis là, bébé, je ne vais nulle part. I'm here, baby, I ain't going nowhere.” he hummed, wrapping his arms around me, pressing small kisses against the top of my head. “Why would she come here now?”

“Because you have money and she is a gold digger, she must have seen the posts about us and thought she could get a massive pay day,” I breathed, gripping onto Charles’ fireproofs like my life depended on it, “and she knew if she tried to step foot in Charming, Pops would kill her with his bare fists.”

“Well, if she tries to come near you again I will drive over her with my car at 200 miles an hour.”

“Char, that would cause too much damage to the car,” I said with a slight laugh. Letting out a shaky breath I looked over his shoulder to the clock on the wall. “Five minutes till FP1 you better get going.”

“I can’t leave you, not like this.”

“I will be fine, promise,” I nodded, resting my forehead against his, “I’m gonna go chill with Fred, we might even make a list of different ways to kill her, you know just some light bonding nothing major.”

I knew Fred would make me feel better, there was something about him that reminded me of Pops, he happily took me under his wing in Zandvoort making me feel right at home within the team. I knew Charles had told him everything he needed to know about me and my past, which was the reason he was so protective over me when the devil made her appearance in the garage.

“Just don’t go all psycho killer on me now baby,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against my lips.

“Don’t spoil all my fun, Mr,” I hummed, a small smile appearing back on my face. “Now go kick some ass out there.”

I found myself staring blankly at my boyfriend, trying to process the words that had just casually fallen out of his mouth.

“Hold on a second, you want me to drive that?” I stated, pointing at the SF-23 that was currently sitting in the middle of the garage.

“Were you not listening to me, Sunshine,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss against my temple.

“I was listening, but you do realize how crazy you sound right now? I don’t even have a super license, we would get into a shit load of trouble if anyone knows I took her on the track. She aint set up for me Char,” I rambled, not taking my eyes off the car, “there is no way. Aint happening, I will kill myself do you know how fast that thing is.”

The sound of Charles laughing caused me to tear my gaze away from the middle of the garage, cocking my brow at him, it was official he had completely lost his mind.

“Babygirl, it’s fine, we are all good, no one will know, trust me. Plus we aren’t in parc ferme conditions yet,” he smirked, slowly guiding me towards the car. “All I ask is don’t crash, I kinda need her for quali tomorrow.”

“You are fucking crazy, Leclerc.” I shot back, refusing to believe he was being serious. “We shouldn’t even be here, everyone has gone home.”

“Thought you loved driving fast?” he hummed, that cocky smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“Yeah in my beater of a truck, that if I am lucky will hit 70 miles an hour, or Jax’s Dyna, not a beast of a machine that is built for speeds of 200 miles an hour plus.”

“Fine, if you won’t drive this, what about this?” he said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket, placing them in the palm of my hand.

Dropping my gaze I ran my fingers over the bead keyring Elenor had made for him, my heart fluttering at the fact he had this on his keys, “wait, isn't this your Pista?”

“You talk too much,” he winked, moving so his arms were wrapped firmly around my waist, in one quick motion I had been thrown over his shoulder and was staring at his ass.

“Well, this is the best view ever,” I giggled, praying that he didn’t lose his grip as he carried me out to the track. “You drop me and I will kill you.”

“Quoi, comme ça ? What, like this?” he said, jolting his body causing me to cling onto him for dear life.

“Fucking asshole.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[acourtofthought]

I find it so strange when readers try to pit Elain and Gwyn against one another, acting like one is better than the other when they've had extremely similar journeys so far:

Catrin was always the strong one. The smart and charming one. After our mother died, she took care of me. Looked out for me.

That sounds a lot like Elain and Nesta's relationship right? Where Nesta was the strong one when it came to Elain? Where she looked out for her?

We were raised in the temple as well. I never left its grounds until … until I came here.”

For Elain, I wouldn't say she was quite as cut off from the world as Gwyn was and she did experience the loss of her mother and poverty at a young age however, I don't know that she suffered the greatest burdens that came about from those things as Feyre did (and to some degree, Nesta). So again, both she and Gwyn had a somewhat sheltered childhood.

“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.” / “A commander from Hybern raped me two years ago. He had his soldiers hold me down on a table. He laughed the entire time.” Tears gleamed in Gwyn’s eyes. “Hybern attacked in the dead of night. We were all asleep when they broke into the temple and began the slaughter.

I think what Gwyn went through hits home for a lot of us and that's why so many connect with her story. But Elain's experience is not less traumatic just because Cauldrons do not exist in real life (technically temples full of fae priestesses harboring a piece of said Cauldron do not exist in real life either). What happened to Elain is metaphorical for anything being done to someone against their will, for having their choices taken away, and for losing the life they planned on and hoped for in the blink of an eye:

"Fear like I had never known entered my heart as the men dragged my sisters, gagged and bound, before the King of Hybern. / But there they were—in their nightgowns, the silk and lace dirty, torn. Elain was quietly sobbing, the gag soaked with her tears. / Elain was shaking, sobbing, as she was hauled forward. Toward the Cauldron. / Lucien staggered a step forward as Elain was gripped between two guards and hoisted up. She began kicking then, weeping while her feet slammed into the sides of the Cauldron as if she’d push off it, as if she’d knock it down—/ Elain’s foot hit the water, and she screamed—screamed in terror that hit me so deep I began sobbing / Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered.

I've seen it said that Elain's experience was only "being dumped into a Cauldron" therefore it wasn't that big a deal. But that ignores everything we're told of the experience:

Of course, there are risks—the transition can be … difficult. But a strong-willed individual could survive.”

“I saw it,” Rhys whispered. “Felt it. Everything that happened within the Cauldron. / And I saw … felt … what it took from her.” / He met Cassian’s stare unflinchingly, his eyes full of remorse and agony. “Her trauma is …” Rhys’s throat bobbed. “I know,” Cassian whispered. “I guessed,” Rhys breathed, “but it was different to feel it.”

Gwyn and Elain were both forcibly held against their will and had their bodies violated.

“I’ve been here for nearly two years"

We don't know exactly how many months went by from the time Elain was made until she started interacting with the outside world but my guess is about 4 / 5? Elain started getting better after Lucien made an appearance in the NC however she didn't leave the townhouse until it came time to seek shelter for the humans prior to the war.

Elain and Gwyn stayed in a place they felt the safest until it was time to do more. For Gwyn, she wanted to train as it was something her sister would have done and Elain wanted to find a place for the humans:

Nesta straightened her fork and knife beside her plate. “Can’t you spirit them away somewhere south—far from here?” “That many people? Not without first finding a safe place, which would take time we don’t have.” Rhys considered. “If we get a ship, they can sail—” “They will demand their families and friends come.” A beat of silence. Not an option. Then Elain said quietly, “We could move them to Graysen’s estate.”

Gwyn and Elain were both traumatized a second time in the series. For Elain, it was being kidnapped again, stabbing someone and seeing her father's murdered body and for Gwyn, it was being kidnapped and taken into the Rite.

But in both instances, the females stepped up to do what they had to do.

Gwyn waited on its other side, bloodied and in a warrior’s clothes, face filthy and torn, but eyes clear. (Gwyn after leading the beasts to the Illyrians)

And then walked to me and Nesta, who pulled back long enough to survey Elain’s clean face, her clear eyes. (Elain after helping to save Briar and kicking the beasts which saved Briar and Az).

Gwyn showed additional bravery later in the Rite as did Elain when she stabbed the King.

Gwyn has made it known that she no longer wants to take the safe road though we know she's still processing new traumas from the Rite (which probably played a role in why she wasn't sure she'd attend Nesta's mating ceremony) but all that does is set her up for her story. SJM FMCs start at a low point and work their way up.

It is confirmed that Elain still has trauma though she has shown signs of progress since the war. She's out and about in Velaris, helping it's people. She was willing to search for the Trove when even Nesta was afraid to, she joined her sisters in the Hewn City even though the cruelty there bothers her.

Elain is not 100% fine (again, a perfect setup for her own book) but she has had progress that cannot be denied.

And finally, both females stood up to Nesta in SF:

“I don’t need to be coddled. Only spoken to like a person.”. “I doubt you’ll enjoy the way I speak to most people,” Nesta said. Gwyn snorted. “Try me.” Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again. “Get out of my sight.” Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. “Oh, you’re good.” Gwyn turned back to the stacks. “Really good.

“You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.” / Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.” / “Oh, fuck you,” Nesta snapped, and then choked. Elain blinked. Nesta blinked back, horror lurching through her. And then Elain burst out laughing. Howling, half-sobbing laughs that sent her bending over at the waist, gasping for breath. / Elain held up a hand, wiping her eyes with the other. “You’ve never said such a thing to me!” She laughed again. “I think that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

I do think Gwyn and Elain are headed down different paths, Gwyn's being that of a warrior and Elain (in my opinion) one of a healer / peacemaker between courts. And Gwyn definitely seems a bit more irreverent (but not in a negative way, she just doesn't seem bothered by someone's standoffish personality which is why she seems better suited for Az) but outside of that, it's difficult not to note their similarities. Gwyn is bookish what with the research she does alongside Merrill, Elain is canonically wise and observant (so both intelligent in their own ways), they're not as bold and brazen as Nesta or Feyre however there is evidence to support that they too are curious about sex, and they each take solace in creature comforts (bracelet making and singing for Gwyn and gardening and baking for Elain).

When someone insults Elain, they are insulting Gwyn and vice versa and it's too apparent that the reason that happens in the first place is readers are blinded by their ship to pay attention to what SJM has told us about both females as individuals.

Out of the possible pairings I do think Az and Gwyn are more compatible but at this point, she's even more similar to Elain than she is to Az.

[9leaguesofmirrors]

Hidden (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

I recently started watching What We Do In The Shadows, and this fic is inspired by one of my favourite scenes. It takes place in the season 3 finale between Nadja and Laszlo. Hopefully you all enjoy it!

“How come your dad never had a funeral?”

“He did. It was just a small event.”

Ross held his mug in his hand, ignoring the burning sensation in his hands. It was more of a comfort than anything, a distraction from a conversation he only hoped would pass soon

“Your dad? A small event!” Lisgoe cackled “That attention-seeking bastard wouldn’t allow it!”

“He didn’t have much say in the matter, hardly anybody went.”

“That, I can believe.”

As Lisgoe dropped the subject, in favour of the funeral scene that was currently on their TV, Ross breathed a sigh of relief

Sometimes, he reminded himself, it’s better to lie

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

Ross’ dad had been trying to contact him all week, and he was starting to worry that he’d have to explain to his partner why he’d lied about the death of a family member

It wasn’t until that Saturday evening that he realised, after a lot of hiding his phone and sneaking glances at it when he thought Lisgoe wasn’t watching, just how incriminating he was making himself look. And the sideways glances he was getting confirmed that theory

Sitting on the same sofa as him probably wasn’t a smart idea

“Ross, what are you doing?”

“... Nothing.”

“Christ,” he muttered, snatching the phone from his partner’s hand “sound less convincing.”

“Joseph-”

“This has gone on for a whole fucking week.” Lisgoe started going through the phone “It stops…”

They made eye contact, and the look on Lisgoe’s face made Ross go pale. And what came out of his mouth made his stomach drop

“You communicating with the dead now, Ross?”

Ross let out a sigh

“Joseph, I can explain-”

“You said your dad died six fucking months ago. So how is this “dead man” contacting you?” Lisgoe looked at the phone again “15 missed calls, Ross, 15 fucking calls and 20 texts from this week alone.”

“Let me talk.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” He tossed the phone at Ross and folded his arms, reclining in a comfortable position

Ross shifted his body to face his partner properly

“He’s dead to me. I’ve been trying to cut contact.”

“Then why not block him?”

“It’s… look, I’m taking small steps. Ignoring him is the first one.”

Lisgoe’s jaw tightened, but the way he looked down for a moment, nodding gently, implied some level of understanding

“Did he not like that you were into fellas?”

They look at each other and Ross feels himself go hot with anger. Anger, not at Lisgoe, but at the past

“... No.”

Nothing was said for a moment

“He didn’t care about my love life for years, he didn’t even care that I was gay.”

As Lisgoe turned his body to face him, Ross pressed his fingertips together in an almost self-soothing manner

He felt a hand on his wrist, firm but not threatening

“It’s about the fact that… years ago, I fell in love.” Ross closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued “I fell in love with a working-class man.”

He watched Lisgoe’s eyes widen gently, brows furrowing, but he said nothing

“A man,” Ross continued “that grew up in a tiny council estate in Sheffield, with no social standing or inherited wealth. A man that had to fight that little bit harder to get what he wanted.” He took Lisgoe’s hand “The things he called that man…” he shook his head in disgust “I could’ve killed him. He even went as far as calling him a mistake.”

For a moment, Lisgoe’s jaw tightened further. As if trying to force down a swirling pit in his stomach. Instinctively, Ross touched the side of his face and spoke in a serious tone

“That man… is the most life-altering person I’ve ever met. To the point where he started changing my idea of a mistake. Changed my way of seeing the world. Made me realise that sometimes, you can’t think. Sometimes you have to just do.”

His hand moved to the back of Lisgoe’s head, fingers threading through his hair

“That man, obviously-”

Lisgoe’s lips pursed, as if beginning to speak, but the words didn’t come

Ross understood

“Yes. It’s you, Joseph.”

He watched his partner breathe deeply, his exhale trembling ever so slightly. Ross knew better than to point it out

“How are you feeling about it?”

That caught Ross offguard. It was strange to hear Lisgoe react in a way that wasn’t inciting some sort of violence

“Feels like I should’ve blocked him properly.”

“Could do it now.”

Ross nodded, looking down at his phone as another notification came through. He then watched as the phone was taken away and his chin was tilted upwards. Lips pressed together in a way that was rare. There was no sparking or hunger, just a soft glowing ember that was warm in a way that neither felt often - a feeling of comfort

They pulled away for a moment, Lisgoe looked as though he was waiting for a response

All Ross wanted was to feel comfort again. Hands cupped Lisgoe’s neck and pulled him on, enveloped in a warmth that was both completely unknown and strangely familiar

[gravehags]

truth or dare ask game:

🥐🔪🧃🍄🌻🥤🥑🛼(hehe)

yes Im nosey sshhh

🥐 this is an oldie for anyone who was a member of ONTD on livejournal but “i know bitch, i was watching” still makes me laugh and i still quote it to this day

🔪 weirdest topic researched for writing…probably for my undergrad thesis when i was originally planning to include baroque art, i did a deep dive into frederik ruysch’s tableaus of baby skeletons. somewhat related, his daughter rachel was one of the most popular dutch still life artists of the era yet most people don’t know her name.

🧃honestly idk if there is anything about me i haven’t posted lmao i am the queen of oversharing but um. don’t know if i’ve ever talked about how i was chosen as a freshman to present at the deyoung museum on the topic that three years later would become my thesis. it was typically an event only open to seniors but the head of the art history department was so impressed she made an exception :) also connected to that - my grad school capstone advisor was present and the first time i met with her she told me she remembered me and my presentation 12 years later. so keep researching that weird shit you like it will make an impression on at least one person lol

🍄 hmmm since it’s lesbian visibility week let’s go with cirrus/cumulus. i think they were aware of one another in the pit, even intrigued by one another but neither made a move. not until after they were summoned when one evening cirrus got into a scrap with dewdrop and cumulus jumped in to break it up. when dew accidentally swung on her, cirrus lost her whole shit. took aether and mountain holding her back and even then, they got scratched to shit and bit. cumulus, with her eye swollen, walked over to her and gently stroked her face murmuring reassuring words to her. dewdrop felt so guilty he apologized to not only cumulus but also cirrus. it was the last time they ever (physically) fought and every time dew saw cumulus with that black eye it made him sick to his stomach. and the girls? never slept without one another since.

🌻 someone i appreciate but don’t talk to on a regular basis wow this is a hard one. maybe not a specific person but to everyone who regularly likes or reblogs my fics, even if i don’t follow you trust me i see you 🩵

🥤there are so many people on here who are incredible writers but truly @anamelessfool and @the-lisechen blow me away every time. such beautiful prose that really gets you emotionally and they are both incredible at creating compelling OCs. cannot recommend them more.

🥑 if we lived on the same continent i’d absolutely say @forest-rot but other than them i’d say @bimbotheosis lmao she’s got a bigger car than me that can better hold a body and is close enough that it would be efficiently done

🛼 -> 🙊💦🍜🧎🏻‍♀️🪤

[borderline-gays-club]

2/29/24 9:20 pm

I’m in a place again where my self esteem is not really in great shape. And I’m in a place where I can/need to be honest with myself abt that. It’s where it can be a bit hard to look at myself in the mirror. Where I take photos of myself and it’s kinda hard to recognize that’s me. Or feel positive about my image. And I don’t like this feeling which is why I’m here writing.

There’s definitely a few factors at play; some are new some are old. I think one thing that’s been tough in general is what I am currently experiencing as a no identity self. By that I mean that I’m not stuck on an extreme feeling so my whole personality is not revolving around a feeling state. For example when I was hyper sexual and rage fueled that became my whole thing. Literally my other tumblr handle lol. Which I don’t really relate to anymore.

But the thing is, these were never really my personality anyway. Not in its core. They’re always fleeting, as emotions are fleeting. Which means my personality would just cling on to whatever is the most present. Just like how my personality wud also cling onto ppl in my life. And bc I’m not in any extreme emotional state I feel kinda lost. I feel vulnerable and bare. And trying to find something to hold onto. But it’s different than that horrid empty feeling. Bc I’m seeking out self in more positive ways and trying to be gentle and take my time with it. And really emphasize to myself that it’s ok to feel this lostness and that it’s important not to rush into a new “personality” for the sake of getting rid of this discomfort. I need to move slowly. I struggle with that so much.

Another thing that has not been great for my self esteem is my clothing. I’ve just been wearing ugly clothes that don’t really fit me that great for a while. And I haven’t really worn anything flattering in a while. So I don’t feel good in my clothes basically all the time. So I don’t feel good abt that. Also my hair needs to be cut lol. I don’t like how it looks rn so my hair is just always in a haphazard bun. And I don’t like that I always have to default to glasses rn bc I can’t afford contacts. I don’t like that all the jewelry I own just irritates my skin bc it’s cheap so I can’t accessorize. I don’t like not putting in effort in my appearance, but to be honest I just feel tired bc I’m broke and I can’t afford to look how I want anyway. It’s just a money problem. I’ll start to try when I can tho with what I have, bc it is taking a toll on my self image.

And lastly the way I’ve been exercising has not been great. I don’t enjoy going to the gym anymore. It’s boring and I just have fully concluded it’s just not for me. And it doesn’t help that I wud obsessively go to the gym when I was in the deep pits of ED so it doesn’t exactly have the best history. I thought it wouldn’t affect me but idk now. I thought going with a friend wud help, and I mean it has in terms of staying consistent. But it doesn’t make me like it. It still feels forced and I kinda just want it to b over. Which is not good. Cus that means I’m not really in my body while I’m doing it which is what I struggle with anyway.

When I did boxing when I was able to, it felt so different. It was the first time I was able to do an exercise consistently and consistently get more and more excited abt it. I actually felt very aware of my body and what I was doing with it. I felt very connected to my body which is a struggle for me. I’ll think more on this later, but I think the difference is that with boxing there’s feedback involved. As in there’s another person that needs to be involved to actually play the sport/game. There’s strategy involved and so many skills to master, and you pick which ones you want to master. I think it’s all these layers that kept me hooked and wanting to get better.

Anyway these are my current thoughts. I’m just in a place of deep frustration bc there’s so many things that I kno will help me, but I just can’t do it bc of money. In the meantime I’m just adapting to what I can do. But frustration has been a core feeling for a while.

[fluffyfaetales]

Forged By Courage

The Warforged life had never been an easy one. Their existence, bound by their name, felt like a destiny they could not escape—a life of service, as unforgiving as the metal that formed their bodies.

When Salvation awoke, his senses were met with the curious gazes of three strangers. A rugged Wood Elf man named Thunder, a spirited human woman named Clara, and a stout dwarf named Obsan peered at him, filled with cautious intrigue. Obsan was crouched near Salvation, tools in hand, working on his battered body.

Salvation’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Where...am I?”

Obsan froze, his eyes wide with shock. "Moradin's forge—the thing can talk!"

Clara nudged him, scolding, “That’s rude, Obsan.”

Obsan grunted and cleared his throat, regaining composure. "Aye, you’re right. Apologies, lad. Name’s Obsan of the mountain dwarves. You’re in some old ruin.”

"Ruin?” Salvation's gaze narrowed in confusion. “How did I end up in a ruin? I should be in Etherion—the home of my people, the Warforged.”

Thunder, standing in the background, chuckled gently. “Etherion? That’s the stuff of legends, friend. It doesn’t exist.”

Salvation’s head tilted, uncertainty filling his eyes. “No. I remember it. I was made there by my friend, GodForge.”

Clara gently laid a hand on his shoulder, her tone soft. “If that’s truly the last place you remember...then you’d be very old.”

“Old?!” Obsan roared with laughter. “That’s putting it lightly, lass! He’d be ancient—old enough for even the elves to call him a legend!”

Clara rolled her eyes and gave Obsan a firm smack. “Show some respect. He’s not just a pile of metal.”

Salvation straightened, raising his voice. “I am not a golem! I am Warforged! I feel, I think! I was given life by the gods Moradin and Gond!”

Obsan blinked, genuinely apologetic. “I...I’m sorry, lad. I’ve never met a living soul made of metal.”

Thunder stepped forward, glancing at the others. “So...what do we do?”

Clara gave Salvation a reassuring smile. “We should take him with us.”

Obsan nodded, casting a thoughtful look at the Warforged. “Aye. Can’t leave him here. Not if he’s a person like us.”

Clara looked at Salvation, asking with gentleness, “As long as you’re alright with that?”

Salvation glanced around the ruin, realizing he had few options. “I don’t see many choices.”

The adventurers took him in, and together they became known as The Heroes, celebrated for their bravery and resilience. Salvation fought at their side in countless battles, bonding with them over time. They became his family, a group that filled his world with purpose.

But one day, a threat beyond their power cast a shadow over the kingdom. An evil artificer had crafted a devastating bomb, capable of annihilating the capital and all its people. As they stood before the ticking bomb, Salvation knew what he had to do. He turned to his friends.

“Run...get as many people as you can and run.”

Clara clutched his arm, her voice filled with desperation. “Sal, no. We’re not leaving you.”

Salvation smiled, his gaze soft but resolute. “I have an idea. Just trust me. Get as far away as you can.”

Thunder, his closest friend, looked at him, grief and disbelief clouding his eyes. “Brother, please. You can’t do this.”

Salvation looked back, a soft smirk on his face. “I’m the last of my kind. If I’m going to leave a legacy, I want it to be this—not as a soulless machine, but as a man who chose to save others. Now, go.”

Obsan placed a hand on Salvation’s shoulder, his voice rough with emotion. “You were never a golem, brother. You were our heart. You turned a band of mercenaries into heroes.”

Clara tried to stay, but Obsan and Thunder led her away.

Salvation turned to the bomb, casting one last look toward his friends as they disappeared from view. Then, he used his magic to carve a deep pit, placing the bomb far enough into the earth that when it detonated, the blast would explode upwards, sparing the city above. As he leaned back against the bomb, he glanced at the metal ceiling of the warehouse, a soft smile gracing his face.

“I’m going to miss my heroes,” he murmured.

When the explosion came, it destroyed only the warehouse, sparing countless lives. From that day forward, Salvation was immortalized in history as Sal, the Hero of Steel. His sacrifice inspired a generation of artificers to return to the ruins of Etherion, determined to bring back the Warforged and honor his legacy.

Thunder mourned deeply, cherishing the memories of the Warforged he had come to love. Though Salvation’s body had been made of steel, his heart had burned brighter than any he had known. Clara and Obsan carried their grief as well, forever changed by the sacrifice of their friend.

In time, the tale of The Heroes became a story of the soul within the metal, a testament to the bravery of one who was more than what he appeared. They had shown the world that true worth lay not in outward appearances, but in the actions and sacrifices that defined them.

[startseeingstars]

Collision Path - Mike 5lbs of Pressure

CH20 Mike’s POV 🎶 Alkaline - Sleep Token 🎶

TW - smut (m receiving oral)

I woke early, still holding Maddi to my chest. I glanced at the clock and sighed, resting my head back on the pillow I’d claimed as my own a couple weeks ago.

I willed myself to go back to sleep, but the distaste of the night’s events had left a pit in my stomach. I could only imagine how Maddi felt. I recalled how my stomach dropped as I saw the two guys she was with getting thrown out by security. I’d left my post at the bar and ran down the hall to find Maddi a panicking mess with Shaun.

The way she said my name when she saw me dug at my heart like a knife. I knew then that I wanted to protect her from anything - everything. She deserved more than this subpar life we were living.

I ran over different scenarios in my head, trying hard to work out how I could solve our financial problem. I hated to admit it, but getting back into dealing looked like the best move - not with Leff though. I knew there was nothing left for me with him.

I thought back on the deal we had been pitched a few weeks ago when we did a pick up together and bit my lip, contemplating whether or not it was worth the risk. I’d had a good feeling about the deal but Leff had refused it outright. Though, I suspect it was because it was Heroin - what my Mom had OD’d on.

The abrupt thought of my mother pulled me out of my train of thought slightly. God, I wished she could have met Maddi. I know they would have gotten along so well - probably exchanging different crystals and reading oracle cards. Or at the very least, they would have enjoyed a beer or two together before my Mom would pass out on the couch.

Maddi groaned slightly as she stirred, touching the already purpling bruise on her head tenderly. I took her hand in mine and kissed each of her fingers lightly as she woke. Her exhausted, bloodshot eyes met mine and I frowned before forcing a small smile for her sake.

“Mornin’, Sugar.” I mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She didn’t reply, but sat up groggily and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

“I feel like I’ve been hit with a semi.” She muttered, placing her head in her hands. I heard her take a few deep breaths as I rubbed her back sympathetically.

We relaxed the whole day. I’d texted Shaun and explained we wouldn’t be in tonight for obvious reasons.

Maddi didn’t object when I told her what I was doing. I never wanted her to set foot in that club - or any club like that again, and I was certain she didn’t want to either. We didn’t need to talk about it. We both knew stuff like that is always a risk for her line of work, but when it did happen, it would feel suffocating. I just wanted her to be able to breathe.

We had laid on the couch a good portion of the day. She was quieter than normal, fiddling idly with the sleeves of her shirt as I laid behind her, barely watching the horror movie she’d put on. She stood up suddenly and looked down at me before removing her clothes.

Shocked, I let my eyes trailing over her body before meeting her face.

“I don’t want them to be the last ones who’ve touched me.” She whispered, looking away briefly. My heart ached and I sat up.

“I know, but -“ I started, but she knelt in front of me, sitting between my legs as her hands gripped my thighs.

“Please… I just want to be yours again.” Her eyes watered slightly, but she looked so beautiful as she undid the string of my track pants.

I hated that I longed for her. My cock was already hard, just from her implying she was mine, that she wanted me.

I felt conflicted, but let her reach under my pants and pull out my cock, already stiff and standing at attention in her soft hands. Without hesitation, she began stroking me lightly, toying her tongue around the tip. I let out a moan, sighing at her warm, wet touch. The sound encouraged her and she looked up at me with doe eyes.

“Feel good, baby?” She murmured, her sweet, hot breath against my cock as I nodded slightly, my breathing becoming steadily heavier.

“C’mere,” I panted, shamefully close to climaxing already. She bobbed her head once more, taking the full length of my cock deep into her throat before she stood.

I shuddered at the removal of her heavenly mouth, but she straddled me on the couch. Before she could position herself, I grabbed her thighs and lifted her as I stood. She wrapped her legs around me instinctively and I carried her to the kitchen counter.

[dlnj]

Oh my I cannot wait for my Make to Female trans body suit to be ordered and to arrive. I’ve been very encouraged by my wife to be who I am , which she has always known me to be gay (well bi but I love being called gay, she called me fluid) she has also known that I give off much more of a female energy which makes sense because I have always felt a few things. First that I belong in diapers 24/7 and should have been all my life, two that I am into both woman and men and that I am a bottom when with men, more recently I have accepted that I am probably also a trans girl and have with the blessing of my wife who is also fluid and is in love with the fact that I’m gay , a bottom and probably a trans girl meant to have been born a woman, she has even told me even I completely transitioned she would stay with me even though she would prefer a bottom surgery never take place (but would support it if I absolutely felt I would never be happy as a man and had to go all the way) she is excited about the idea of me having a potential too surgery. Anyway we have decided to get me a male to female body suit so I can life have my life as a woman . An incontinent woman (she’s even ready to switch roles half the time ) totally diaper dependent, she even picked out my female name that I’m going to use MJ. We have good reason for it and that’s going to be me at least half the time. Anyway can’t wait for my body suit but in the mean time she’s going to get a surprise this weekend and my wife is going to meet her wife and see what MJ can look like . I won’t have my breasts or artificial vagina yet but I’ll get as close to what I plan to look like as possible without it. I’m trying to find a short mini skirt and a nice sexy top, I very much want my diaper showing as a woman, and I’m hitting up dollar tree for some make up to test the waters , I’ll get better make up when my body suit gets here. I plan to go out as a possible diaper girl. This weekend MJ will be born finally , she’s already all shaved up , arm pits for the first time in my life are shaved and I feel wicked sexy , legs I’ve always loved shaving so I’m feeling really sexy all smooth , will do the rest of my face this weekend because I’m doing all the make up and really trying to pass as a woman , get my wife all hot and bothered over her new sexy diaper girl wifey . So excited to be becoming who I was meant to be, a sexy diaper dependent woman. Who’s also gay lol well bi but we all know how much I love being called gay. Still can’t wait to hook up with a guy for real. Very much need me a permanent diapered boyfriend to make me feel like to woman I am deep inside. Maybe I’ll feel brave this weekend and post some Diapered Teams girl MJ pictures , depends on how well the makeup does to cover . Wish this girl luck .

[tangiblejournal56]

10/09/11

Who the fuck was I kidding?  Someone liking me.  Yeah, like that’s reasonable.  As if that’s in the realm of fucking possibility.  Another set up, another giant let down.  Why do I ever let myself feed the delusion that someone may just find my particular odd self attractive, for more than just the thrill of, say, fucking a coworker, in this specific incident.  When will I learn to never trust anything good that heads my way, how it will only be followed by disappointment & defeat.  How can I possibly be this thick-headed, never to learn from my mistakes?  I can’t do this anymore, I really can’t.  Not when this is the inevitable outcome, a guy wanting to spend time with me, only wanting to screw me, then he’s satisfied his curiosity, then he peaces out.  I can’t even hate him, he’s not a bad guy, he’s straightforward & blunt & honest, even in this.  I don’t know if it was that the sex was so good, or that for awhile it was easy to believe he actually enjoyed my company, all of those goddamn kisses & touches & fucking smiles.  Kissing someone when I hadn’t kissed anyone in so fucking long, what an irresponsible, dangerous move.  Worse even than letting him come inside me, as at least I can deal with any physical problems of my body; not so with mental blows.

I liked him.  I can’t believe I let myself fucking like him so much.  After everything I should’ve learned by now.  Ryan should’ve been my infinite caution sign against any such foolishness.  Never deal with southern boys, especially the ones that seem so intriguing, so handsome, so interested in me.  I couldn’t even have this.  This nice feeling.  It couldn’t have even been allowed for a whole week.  New fucking record, well done.  This pit of self-loathing has never been quite so deep, so sharp.  Over a boy I hardly know.  But he is just an abstract, a catalyst.  A reminder.  Don’t trust anything good to come your way.  He hasn’t even straight-out rejected me yet, but I can read the terrain, I see what’s coming.  I’ve experienced this so often, if I can read the signs then why can I not just remember to avoid the whole business of falling for anyone?  Have I made it my life’s goal to set out after the ever-unattainable, just so I can suffer defeat after defeat, so that I can be miserable?  I’d thought I’d surpassed that phase, grown out of wanting to be miserable, depressed.  I don’t want to be unhappy anymore.  I just want a good fucking day, a day without trap doors & red herrings.  A day I can trust.  A chance to breathe.  Not every fucking day sending me spinning in a fit of pain, reeling from the force of the strike.  I’m tired of creating beauty out of my pain.  I just wanted this one small thing.  This small joy, to keep me from going off on everyone around me.  Something to make the suffering bearable, at least until I can leave this awful place.  Too much to ask.

The universe forces me to be alone.  And so I will live as it dictates.  I know I said that even if the one day of sex & enjoyment was all that would come out of this, I would be satisfied.  I lied.  I guess I was at least allotted more than I honestly expected, we spend our lunch break two days later at his apartment in his bed, fucking, then sleeping, then fucking once more before returning to work.

Why did the sex have to be so good?  Like another cruelty, giving me something so damn enjoyable for such a short period of time, before pulling the rug swiftly out from beneath me.  I feel cold, incapacitated.  Why is that still such a shock?  Why do I get this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach even just anticipating his next text message?  I can’t even figure him out, he always seems so ungraspable, I think he will say or do one thing & he quickly does the opposite.  This was something I wanted time to figure out, to untangle.  It bothered me that he felt I was so predictable, like he’d already read the book of me.  I wanted to show him the extent to which he doesn’t know me at all.  I allowed him to see a side of me even Max isn’t necessarily privy to, myself as being without inhibition.  The Ryan effect.  It would seem I only allow this for these deceptive southern disappointments.  Why is this the effect they have upon me?  Why can I not grow an immunity for this particular disease?  I need to leave, avoid this city like the plague.  Ignore it as it so ignores me.  Watch it fade away in a rear-view mirror.  All of its bad & bittersweet memories, experiences I never want again.

I can’t bear to be alone.  Yet no one will have me.  Where does this leave me?  I am not noble, able to suffer my pain with such grace as Max, unable to lean on numbing agents like alcohol or drugs.  Even through those hazy states the pain is still so sharp, the universe’s total & unbending rejection of me.  How I must suffer through this war with no army at my back.  No winds to catch my sails.  Why can I not reconcile myself to loneliness?  I’ve had enough practice with it.  I am not brave.  I can neither do myself in, nor can I accept this solitude.  Where does that leave me?  Eternally miserable, sobbing nightly to exhaust myself enough to pass out, only to dream of what it might feel like to be loved.  Again, waking to disappointment, to pain so acute I feel it in my chest, in my legs, every limb & organ & capillary.  If this is bottom, where is the relief that things cannot get much worse?  There is always worse.  It seems like it never ends.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do it.  I cannot keep the strings of sanity in my hand anymore, they are struggling to escape.  I can feel it coming, the day I just let go, when I no longer have that small voice inside of my head reminding me of why I need to hang on.  For what is the point?  My existence means very little to anyone besides my mother.  She would suffer, yes, & I would hate to be the cause of that.  But I can feel that one day she will not be enough to keep me from saying fuck all & diving headfirst into my head entirely, barring anyone from entering.  Eve Max will not be able to bring me back.  It would be for the best in his case, he will be allowed to live his life fully without worrying about me & my problems anymore.  I am everyone’s burden.  I am no one’s joy.  There is nowhere I fit among this world.

Why no relief?  Has what I’ve done in my life been so completely unforgivable?  I see others committing acts of far greater evil & still they aren’t punished, aren’t alone.  I try not to let this get to me, & yet I end up in this exact position, again & again, wondering why I cannot catch a break.  I try to go out & create my own breaks, opportunities, as I have done with the Italian, & yet this is still the outcome.  No matter what I do, which way I turn, everything seems to explode in my face.  Even Luke I cannot interest, I have no friends to make here, no one I can talk to or trust.  I have Racha but she cannot cure me of this loneliness.

When will this end?

When I end myself, I suppose.