#it's no one's fault but mine but i just miss everyone

[thatbitchery]

ARGUING / CONFRONTATION 101: HOW TO NOT 'GET OWNED' OR 'GET CAUGHT' IN ALTERCRATIONS.

Little miss don't read How To posts over here

For starters I hope by now you know people do not argue to exchange ideas they argue to measure deek size and find out who is the alpha. Its neverrrr about what's right its about WHO is right. My go to is just don't get caught in one? But sometimes you do sometimes you can't not. In my usual chaotic way I'll just dump everything I know you figure it out by yourself.

Let's take hypothetical situation- you got caught in a lie. Because I refuse to believe a fully grown woman will be caught in a push and pull about opinions I refuse to accept that. You're past 16 grow up. The way people work is the easiest way to establish power is to publicly disempower someone. What Candace Owens did. You find someone with power (and everyone has power) , you disempower them publicly you take some of that power. Because power is transferred not created. so people constantly try to find faults in others and when they find one BINGO they got you BUT. BUT. You see that thing Keke Palmer did with Usher and her baby sperm donor? That's power. That's refusing of letting go of that power. That's what I want to teach you, how to not get owned. (PS, I looooooove liars but don't lie if you don't have to, and I'll teach y'all how to lie so you stop sabotaging yourself). SO I caught you in a lie. I make a public show of 'calling you out' on it. Fully expecting you to stand up for yourself by going into defence so I can actuallyown you and in a sweeet sweeeet sweeet public play that will make me the big dog and you just a pathetic lying little bitch. Remember when I told you I'll teach you how to people???????? MOOOOOOOOTHHHHHHHHHERRRRRRR KNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOWWWWWWWWWWS BEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSST. First. Never. Ever. Ever. EVER. In your entire life. Jump into defense. Don't ever get defensive it's better to go down with your pride. Can you see a lion defending itself against a rabbit? Exactly. The politics of the jungle work like this- you're either prey or predator. In this survival game we call life- you NEVER . EVER. EVER. Want to signal you're prey. We don't run. We don't hide. We don't defense. Sometimes we really are prey but even then we play tactical defense. What do we do in our hypothetical situation here?

Exaggeration. This is my favorite go to ever. Its when you take the bait but in a way that makes them look bad. In a uh huh uh huh way. When there is no tangible evidence and it's your word against mine, whoever goes into offense / accuser will always have the upper hand because a) you can not prove a negative. Law girls will tell you you can not prove that you did *not*. Two offense is the power point and it's already taken so now you have to fall into defense. And defense is already powerlessness. By being accused, you've already lost. So you can take it, but too far that it loses meaning.

Example; I accuse you of say, sleeping with someone. You can't prove that you didn't. So I hit you with the oh I heard you spread your legs for x so you could get this. And you just- sigh. Lean back. Slap on your most bored face. Sip your coffee. Say yes actually I did. Him and his dad and your dad and my dad and triple orgy with the Oligarchs of Russia. We have tapes on the black market. Wait have you ever done ab Eiffel tower? X and your dad did it and I went all night then they gave me this Y thing that I'm obviously not smart enough or capable enough to get by myself because I'm obviously some dumb blond girl yes you're right Andrew can I work now or do you want it in writing. Yes you're right. And I'll fuck them all plus you if you want for this other thing I want that I'm again not smart or capable enough to get by myself as you can tell. Can I wear my earpods back. I need to visualize fucking Enhypen for a ticket, as a girl like me does. Is there anything else you want from me? Video essay?? My soul? What?

2. Yes. And? Yeah I did now what? Why? Because the power of accusing or argument is to make you look smaller and to make you ashamed. When you're not, the cards are reversed. Now they get to feel the shame. Same scenario - you slept with X for Y. So they make a scene about it. First, it doesn't matter of it's true no one cares about the truth. It's not about truth it's about power. You've been alive long enough for this. Soo it doesn't really matter if you did or didn't. So you sigh. Plug one side earpod off. Sip your coffee. Nod. Say nothing, give them the most blank stare ever. So you accept? You nod again. Look at your watch. Look at their forehead. Then neck. Then waistline. Then shoes. Then back to forehead. Then back to your watch. Then eyes. Then arch a brow. Say nothing else. Whatever they say, you nod. Let them trip over their words looking to make you feel guilty. Say nothing outside one word answers. Or simple nods. Actually no words, just nods. Cross your legs. At some point get your earpod back on and go back to work.

3. The whatever you say my guy tactic. The talking to a 9 year old tactic. The awww you little guy!! Tactic. The get them off their game tactic because people that come in accusation come with power, so making them look infantile takes it all away and they have to struggle to get it back. Same accusation, you go- in a soft voice, an awww voice - ah is that so? *Turn to your laptop* when was this? And I was in the room? Wait I was doing the hanky panky? Does he know about this? Oh, that sounds good I guess *sip your coffee* sorry, when exactly was this? Ahhh I see. Okay. So *pause, scroll a bit* sorry, where were we? Oh yeah. Yeah okay I guess. Is there anything else you needed cause I *look at them* wait sorry. What again?

[that-was-anticlimactic]

okay i'm sorry mutuals did i miss something in the three and a half hours i was driving is booping just a thing now is it a meme 😭

[paradisaeidaes]

drawing something for a mutual and she will never see it bc I’m scared to show it to her but now I just feel like crying bcos I know she doesn’t mean to forget but at the end of the day people just forget me much easier than they do others and I tried pushing that feeling down for as long as I can remember but now it’s like I’m crumbling down under the imminent weight of that idea.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pure intense fluff, kissing, cuddling, squeezing, handsy pouty bastard, insisting you’ve been neglecting him, his is dying and it’s all your fault, how dare you do this to him, he will hold you accountable for your heinous crimes by cuddling you, toji is going soft for you, established relationship

Standing in front of your vanity, slipping your earrings off, sticking them with the rest. Glancing into your vanity mirror when Toji emerges from the bathroom.

Arms crossed over his bare pecs sticking his bottom lip out in his adorable pout. It’s one of your favorite Toji expressions. He huffs, “Finally someone figures where they live.”

He unzips the back of your dress. “You weren’t here!” kissing your shoulder. Slipping it down your body, trailing gentle sloppy kisses down your back. “The house was so empty and cold, I was dying of loneliness little mama.”

Stepping out of your dress, he tossing it into the hamper beside the bedroom door. “Is it even a home without you there?” His warm fingers brushing against your back unclasping your bra, gliding the straps off your shoulders. His touch comforting.

You insist, “Without you this place is just some walls.” Grabbing his hands, kissing his warm palms. Glancing into the mirror, Toji “It’s also not my fault you showed up two days early. Couldn't rush a planned girl’s night for your needy ass.” Turning around sliding your hand over his thick pecs, broad shoulder and into his soft dark hair.

“Im only needy when it comes you to mama. You’re so cruel neglecting me.” Grabbing your ass, lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his slim waist.

“We aren't leaving for the weekend. Tired of seeing everyone’s ugly ass faces and hearing their annoying ass voices.” He kisses the top of your head. “Just need to spend some time with you mama.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing your tightly.

Wheezing, “I'm all your’s Teddy Bear!” Your back pops several times. Gasping for sweet air when he loosens his gasp.

“Damn right you are.” Kissing along Toji’s jawline, softly biting his pouty bottom lip, melting into his gentle kiss.“It’s not fair mama I can't squeeze you like I want to.” Carrying you through the hallway, towards the living room. “Get good mama, lemme squeeze you tighter.”

“Nah Teddy Bear that’s a you problem.” Squeezing Toji’s slim waist with your legs, tightening your grasp around Toji’s neck. “I can hug you as tight as I want. Ha-ha-haha!” Ripping you off him and throwing you onto the sofa.

“Imma make it your problem little mama.” Carefully falling on top of you, pinning your body with his weight. Resting his head on your chest. “Hahah! Looks whose trapped now! I’m not letting you go anywhere beautiful.”

Pushing himself up, and leaning in for a kiss. “All mine.” Parting your lips, the gentle hunger of his passionate kiss replacing your need for air. Slipping your fingers through his soft dark hair.

When he pulls away, covering your face with kisses. You grin widelyz “I missed ya so much teddy bear, I’m all your’s for the rest of the week. I’ll make sure you get sick of me.” Giving your forehead another gentle kiss, squeezing your hips.

It’s comforting having his heavy weight pressing you into the bed. His large strong hands on your body making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and words ensuring you know how cherished you are.

His cheeks turn pink, spreading across the bridge of his nose, coloring the tips of his ears. “I can never get enough of you.” His eyes widen. “Listen to me, ya made me all mushy, gonna have to hold you responsible. Hmm how should I do that.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

Satoru’s verison!

[cryptoseraphim]

Are y'all ever just content for one moment and then the next you're suddenly realizing that you're so terribly lonely

[oceantornadoo]

ch4 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: some mild dubcon groping but reader is into it she just hates him. (or does she????)

masterlist | next

Your mother doesn’t come to your wedding, understandably so. Her lack of presence makes the day seem less real. However, one Johnny MacTavish decides to become the Scottish mother hen you’ve been missing.

“Everyone decent in ‘ere?” A chorus of yeses ring out. Johnny opens the door to the bridal dressing room with a smile, looking suave in his tuxedo. “Shite, was hopin’ to sneak a look.” He winks at your nearest cousin and she flutters her eyes. Even as a married man, Johnny likes to flirt and fluster women. It helps hide his marriage to Simon and provides you with much entertainment.

“How’s the blushin’ bride?”

He walks over to your vanity, taking in your bridal makeup and hairdo. Johnny whistles low, reaching out to ruffle your hair, which you stop by smacking him. “The bride is hungover and not in the mood.” He shrugs, then takes a sip of your champagne on the vanity desk. “Y’r fault fer doin’ a hen do the night before. Nice job slippin’ the hag, though.” It’s your codename for Aunt Riley. She’s always been suspicious of him and Simon, making little comments here and there that have put her on his shitlist over the years.

“Thanks. I can say, the London nightlife didn’t disappoint. I might throw up at the altar though.” He snorts and takes a seat in the empty chair next to you. “Price was pissed last night. Called Simon while we were mid-” You cover his mouth with your hand. “Don’t finish that sentence. As far as I’m concerned, you guys haven’t even kissed.” Johnny licks your hand, making you squeal. “Can’t believe he called Simon like I’m a little kid and not a grown woman.”

Johnny doesn’t answer, instead popping a chocolate-covered strawberry offered by a passing waitress into his mouth. She’s been the one supplying you with Gatorade until you switched the champagne half an hour ago. Can’t believe the bridal suite has a waitress. John Price is too rich for his own good.

“The Shepherd family’s gettin’ bolder. Can’t blame ‘im fer not wantin’ ya to die before the weddin’. Would be bad publicity.” You scoff. It might be true, but John has never seemed too concerned about your health. Except that night in the park, when- never mind.

“Ya nervous?” Johnny asks. You shake your head. “Trying not to think about it. I’m more focused on not tripping in front of multiple mafia families. I’d never live it down.” He smiles, then squeezes your knee over your white dressing gown. The look he gives you is too knowing and you hate it. Instead of holding his gaze, you turn to the mirror and will any stray tears away. “You probably need to go soon. I think they’re putting me in my dress in a few minutes.” He nods, dark eyes full of understanding.

“Ya look real bonnie, doe. Gonna make a beautiful bride.” You nod, swallowing down the thickness in your throat. “Thanks, Johnny. You look handsome in your pink bowtie.” It’s the same color as the bridesmaid dresses, a horrid shade your aunt insisted on. He winks, then rises out of his chair. Johnny squeezes your shoulder, then kisses the crown of your hair like Tommy used to do. “Simon’ll walk ya down the aisle. I’ll see ya on the other side.” And just like that, he’s gone.

-

“You know you’ve turned my life upside down in only a week, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know a small part of me will always blame you for it?”

“I know.” Simon sighs.

It’s five minutes before the ceremony. You’re all dolled up in your poofy dress with perfect makeup and a bouquet in hand. A phantom weight is heavy on your left finger, waiting for the ring you tried on only a few days ago.

“Ya know I’ll always be sorry yer father is mine.” Simon murmurs. You nod stiffly, swallowing down any emotion as you look at the closed church doors in front of you. The ones that will open in a few minutes, leading your path down the aisle and to your new husband.

“I didn’t have to come back. I could have hung up on you all those years ago.”

“I know.”

“I think a small part of me wishes I had.” You whisper, like a confession. He takes your free hand and wraps it in his own. “But I think a bigger part would do it all over again.” Simon squeezes your interlaced fingers.

“Best thing tha’ ever happened t’ me, ya know that?” Your smile is weak, eyes watery as you catch his gaze. “What about Johnny?” He smiles under the mask. “Tha’s a different category, love.” You laugh, small and hollow. 

This feels like goodbye. You know it’s not, you’ll only be 200 miles away, but you’re both aware of the new boundaries around this marriage. London will be your home now, and any visit to Manchester will have to be approved, and probably accompanied, by John. That’s all it’ll be - a visit. A few days at most, doing the rounds and seeing friends and family. You’ll never live there again, never run your bookshop, never chat with regulars, never- you stop that line of thinking before you ruin your makeup.

“If he hurts ya, you call me.” You nod, but that’s not enough for Simon. A gloved hand tips your chin in his direction, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll call me. An’ Johnny if I don’t answer.” You nod again, firmly, which finally satisfies Simon.

“C’mere.” You hug your big brother with all your might. He’s careful, turning your face to the side so you don’t ruin your makeup. His hands tighten around your shoulders while yours can barely wrap around his torso. He’s always wearing suits but this one feels different, more structured and finely woven.

“Simon, are you wearing designer?” He stiffens, pushing you off him as you start laughing. “‘M alway wearin’ designer, comes with the job.” You shake your head vehemently. “No, you’re always wearing Fred Perry. This fabric is fancy, it’s like Dolce and Gabbana.” Your brother decidedly does not answer.

“Simon! Are you wearing Dolce to my wedding? Are you trying to upstage the bride?!” Only you, his all-knowing sister, would be able to tell he’s blushing under his mask. In an uncharacteristic move, he scratches the nape of his neck, looking off to the side like he’s suddenly interested in church architecture. “Johnny picked it out.” You slap his arm and he moves to ruffle your hair, before remembering it’s in a fancy wedding do. “You’re an absolute git, this is completely unfair. I demand you go to the nearest mall and pick something off the rack.” That comment finally dismisses the dark cloud that’s been hanging over you, sending you two into a laughing fit. 

“I wish Tommy was here. He’dve torched that suit.” His eyes crinkle in a sad smile. “I know, love. I know.” Simon kisses your forehead and you lean into his shoulder, wishing the moment would never end.

But all good things must.

A frazzled assistant, one of your Aunt Riley’s minions, practically sprints over to you. “Doors,” he wheezes, “doors opening in thirty seconds.” And just like that, he’s gone. Probably a cake emergency or something of the sort.

“Do I look okay?” You take one last glimpse in a nearby mirror. You’re wearing a traditional veil, something Simon turns up over your head to hide your face. Despite the hideous dress, the rest of your look turned out quite nice. The flowers are decent, your makeup looks great, and you were even allowed to pick out your own jewelry. A win is a win.

“Most beautiful bride th’ church’s ever seen.” Simon puts out his arm like a gentleman, letting you wrap your own around it. “I love you, Si.” He takes a second, and you swear he’s holding back tears. “Love ya too, kid.”

-

Most of the ceremony passes in a blur.

Lots of flowery words, preaching about commitments you’d rather not think about. Some scripture or Latin thrown in there, but you’re really not paying attention. You’re more concerned with the man in front of you.

Your veil is a little sheer, allowing you to see him in all his groom glory. His eyes are dark, fixated on yours, and you’d be an idiot not to notice how handsome he looks. His tuxedo is sharp, and he’s got a flower tucked into the pocket. A heliotrope, a purple that matches well with the pink bridesmaid dresses. A half memory comes to you, something about heliotropes and eternal devotion, but you tuck that away under your might be mad box.

Finally, it comes to the vows. You haven’t written any and neither has John, instead deciding to use the olden ones. It frightens you, to have this surly man swear you such promises.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

He takes off your veil and you swear his breath hitches. It’s just a split second, but the muscle of his throat freezes and you’re captivated by how manly he looks. All bitter thoughts of enemies can be paused for a moment, you reason.

“You may now kiss the bride.” And he does.

It is not a polite kiss. You don’t know why you thought it would be.

He’s hungry. He catches the small of your back in one hand and your waist in the other, dipping you back in a picture perfect moment. His lips devour yours, delivering small bites and licks before pulling back so suddenly you think you’ve imagined it. You blink and you’re standing, your hand wrapped in John’s, as you look out at the cheering crowd. Mr. and Mrs. John Price.

-

You try to avoid John during the reception, which takes place in the backyard of the local country club. It’s hard to do when you’re supposed to thank everyone as a couple. You greet mafia and community leaders and business owners and politicians, all with the same sweet smile and John’s hand on your back. Do they know this was arranged? It’s hard to tell from the venomous sincerity dripping from their foaming mouths, eyes scanning the four-carat rock on your hand like it’s a prize to be won.

At least you’ve been allowed to change into a lighter dress. The reception dress is shorter, falling respectably right above your knees with long sleeves and a low back. Not low enough to show off the temporary tramp stamp smudged on your back. You keep the veil in, a cute detail that the inner little girl in you adores. If only this was a wedding you wanted.

Thankfully, champagne is in constant supply. You must have drunk at least four flutes now. That, plus your lack of food due to your hangover, makes you sway. John, who has not spoken to you directly at all since maiming your lips at the altar, notices. He tugs you away from the crowd, finding a secluded bench tucked away behind a tree. It reminds you of the garden you met him in a few nights ago.

“Thank god. One more sweaty handshake and I would have keeled over.” You murmur, mostly to yourself. He grunts, taking a seat next to you on the bench and loosening his tie.

“Who said you could sit next to me?” Uh oh. Drunk you is talking.

“‘S gonna be like that? We’re barely five minutes in, sweetheart.” He drags a hand down his face in an exhausted and adorable manner. No. This is the enemy. You must remind the both of you of that fact.

“You’re the enemy.” You poke him sternly in the shoulder, which sort of ruins the effortless effect you were going for. “You finally gonna tell me wha’ I did t’ you? Or is this our next ten years?” You frown at his words, crossing your hands over your chest. He’s acting like you did something wrong, not him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see John avert his gaze as you inevitably (and accidentally) push up your tits. Interesting.

“You ruined my life.” He barks out a laugh. “‘Ve ruined a lot of people’s lives. Need ya t’ be more specific.” Instead of answering, you slide down awkwardly into the grass beneath you, leaning your head back on the bench. It’s nighttime now and the only thing in the sky is the North Star. John’s star.

“You told my father I was a weakness and,” you hiccup, “and you told him to send me away. And lookwherethatgotme…” You trail off, eyes fluttering. Your eyes feel a thousand times heavier than normal, and everything hits you at once. Your lack of sleep from your night out, the stress of the day, the emotional conversations - they all boil over like a pot on the stove. “Think I’m gonna sleep now…” John hums, still next to you, and you drift off to the sound.

-

When you wake up, your head is throbbing. Why are you sitting on grass? There’s a suit jacket covering your front, keeping you warm from the night’s chill. Your neck throbs from laying back on the stone bench. There’s a stink in the air, a nasty smell, and when you turn to your right, you see your new husband smoking. Jacketless.

“Nice nap?” You nod, embarrassment coursing through your veins like a drug. “How long was I out?” He flicks the ash of his cigar onto the grass. “Long ‘nough people thought we were consummatin’ the marriage.” Oh. That was…not something you needed to think about.

“You feelin’ sober? Remember anythin’ you said?” You shake your head. Unbeknownst to you, John is frowning. The last few hours are a blur, a black spot in your memory. There’s still alcohol in your body, but a headache is starting to form as well. 

“Let’s get some food in ya. Can’t have my new wife droppin’ dead at the weddin’.” You let him help you up, slipping on his jacket to cover the grass stains on your dress. That’s the only reason you don’t take it off.

-

The rest of the night gets easier. Dinner saves you, but then Johnny’s putting drinks in your hands and your cousins are pulling you to the dance floor. You have an emotional dance with Simon, a not-so emotional one with John, and then you’re passed to a slew of people to make nice with. 

It’s 2am when the party finally settles down. People have gone home, thankfully including your aunt, and you say your goodbyes. John takes you back to the Ritz, a silent, quick car ride. You’re thankful for the quiet but confused all the same. The air is charged, like you just had an argument and lost. Is he mad? Regretting this? You don’t know him enough to tell, and that irks you.

The elevator takes you to the penthouse this time. Only the best for the king of London. John stands beside you, no hand on your back. It’s entirely businesslike: the walk to the room, shutting yourself in the bathroom, donning pajamas and a dressing gown. You would shower, but you need to finish your routine at the vanity.

If this were a real wedding, maybe he would have carried you in his arms over the threshold. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off you, ravishing you in the entryway. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear, “Mrs. Price”.

Instead of that fantasy, you’re tipsy and angry about the fact that you are now Mrs. Price. Maybe that’s why you say it.

“I’m not a virgin.” You’re at the vanity, taking out the mountains of jewelry that pour out of every crevice of your body. It’s the last thing to remove before the weight of your wedding is off your shoulders. The mirror is giant, big enough so you can see John stop unbuttoning his shirt when you say the words. “You’re not?” You shake your head. He frowns. “Might as well send ya back now, get my money, and-,” he stops. Maybe it’s because you’re staring hard at his reflection. You don’t even like him, but the champagne and sting of rejection cut deep.

“Was jokin’, sweetheart. Didn’t expect you t’ be a virgin. Too much pressure, honestly.” Oh. Oh. He’s always called you sweetheart, spit it out like poison designed to kill. This is the first time he’s said it kindly and your heart curls around the word like a sleepy cat. Which will absolutely not do.

“Will make it easier, I reckon. ‘S a tight fit.” He winks jokingly and you scoff at his insinuation. He’s being oddly jovial, a 180 from the car ride, and you need to ruin this truce before it becomes permanent. 

“Sure, that’s probably what your exes have said. It was probably a ‘tight fit’ because they weren’t wet, John. Ever heard of foreplay? F-o-r-e-p-l-a-y, look it up. I expect-”, except you don’t get to tell him your expectations because he’s shut you up with a calloused hand around your throat. It’s not violent and you know he wouldn’t hurt you, but the shock factor hits its target.

“Yer used t’ yer brother an’ his men, crude jokes an’ the like. I get it. But I demand respect an’ you’ll respect your husband now. Got it?” He isn’t blocking your airway, just holding your throat with his hand like a collar around it. He stands behind you with his unbuttoned shirt, giving you a glimpse of his hairy torso, hard with muscle. “The same way you respect me?” You mutter. He straightens in the mirror, his hand loose. A thumb caresses your jawbone, one stroke then two, before he pulls it away completely like it never happened. “I’m tryin’ to. Let’s agree on that, yeah?” You nod stiffly, sobered and treading with cautious feet. Is this how he’ll be? Acting like a military captain, an all-consuming force?

“And, sweetheart.” He grabs your free hand, the one lying on the desk. His large paw engulfs your own, bringing it to the outline of his cock in his boxers. You can feel the weight of him and, against your will, you squeeze. He’s thick, no, girthy. The fabric is thin, allowing you to feel the ridges of his cock, the veins, and its shape. Your hand acts of its own accord, sliding down until your thumb brushes the mushroomed tip. His cock twitches in your hand and you jump in your seat, snatching your hand away like it’s on fire. His chuckle is low and bruising, a damning caress. 

“Thought so.” And your new husband walks away. 

When you toss your silk dressing gown into the hamper for housekeeping, neither of you comment on the wet spot that’s soaked through. That’s the closest you get to consummating your marriage tonight.

-

i dont care if this is in london, im using miles. deal with it

-

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[gguk-n]

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

Part 1 of Do you love me?

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I could not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks dried up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell and broke, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurting since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time, you know. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

[venus-haze]

Sick as a Dog (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Day 25 - Underwear stealing/sniffing. Soldier Boy is America's first superhero. The greatest man who ever lived. Larger than life itself. A sleazy chauvinist who's getting off on your panties in a motel bathroom. [AO3 link]

Note: Written for @cozycornerevents Kinktober! Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I think this is my first Soldier Boy fic set in modern day…anyway it was fun writing mean and gross Soldier Boy🤭

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Soldier Boy-typical misogyny. Sexually explicit content involving masturbation, panty stealing/sniffing, degradation, voyeurism.

You couldn’t relax around Soldier Boy, not when Butcher and Hughie left you alone with him in that damn motel room. It was almost impossible to focus on the TV with him so blatantly eyeing you like a piece of meat. Tried to do the arm-over-the-shoulder move so he could grope your breast, and called you a prude under his breath when you scooted further down the couch. 

Sure, he was attractive, but you weren’t about to mix business with pleasure—especially not with a guy who, when introduced to you, asked Butcher if they only kept you around as “stress relief,” as if you weren’t even standing in front of him. Maybe you should have gone with MM and Annie after all.

“I gotta use the can,” he grumbled, scratching his crotch before standing up from the couch.

The tension slowly released from your body the further away he got from you. Picking up your phone from the coffee table, you saw a missed text from Hughie: Sorry to leave you on supe-sitting duty. Everything good?

You sighed, your thumbs hovering over the keys before sending back: Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle.

Threw in an emoji at the end so he wouldn’t feel too bad. It was kind of your own fault, anyway. You decided to go along with Butcher and Hughie because part of you still naively believed in Soldier Boy’s heroism, his authenticity. And then you actually met him. Heard the shockingly crass way he talked, a relic of a time you had no interest in reliving.

You were just about to text Annie when you heard it.

A name. Your name. Low and gruff and mean coming from his mouth.

Putting your phone down, you glanced in the direction of the bathroom. 

You knew your best option was to just ignore it when you heard him say your name again—turn up the volume on the TV and ignore the way heat flared up between your legs at the grunts he didn’t even try to keep down. Instead, you stood up, your heart beating faster with each step you took. The motel room wasn’t all that big, didn’t take very long at all to get to the bathroom door, look in where he’d left it open a crack. 

Had he been careless? Or did he want you to watch?  

You gaped openly at him, pumping his hard cock with a pair of your used panties bunched up in his hand, sliding it up and down his length. Black, satin with a little bow, it was one of your favorite pairs you brought with you, too, and you weren’t sure how to feel about him having chosen that one to get off with, to ruin. You looked back at your duffel bag, wide open and clearly rifled through. Supposed you were trying too hard not to pay attention to him to pay any mind to his violating your privacy.

“That’s right, take it, you fucking slut,” he growled. “You might not be their stress relief, but you’re gonna be mine.”

How the hell was this the same guy whose PSAs you watched throughout your school years, telling you to pledge allegiance to the flag and say no to drugs? He was sick, hypocritical, a symbol of the worst of American debauchery. Every subsequent word that came out of his mouth was vile, objectifying—should’ve repulsed you instead of going straight to your pussy. Your brain was screaming at you to go back to the couch and pretend you didn’t see anything, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk tomorrow, have to carry you over my shoulder and tell everyone what a slut you are for my cock.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He squeezed his cock harder, his pumps more punishing, frustration radiating off of him as his precum soaked through your ruined panties. Could you even bear to wear them again, knowing all the things he said and did with them bunched up in his hand, picturing you in their place, bent over the motel room sink, or anywhere else he could think of in that deviant mind of his.

“How bad do you want it? C’mon, I wanna hear you beg.”

“Please,” you whispered despite yourself.

“I know you’re out there,” he taunted, startling you. “I can hear you panting like a bitch in heat. Why don’t you come in and give me a hand?”

With a gasp, you found your legs again and ran back to the living area. Fell over yourself to get onto the couch and make the TV louder, anything to drown out the sound of his groans, your name mixed with curses as he came just a few feet away. 

Your face was on fire, and you sat with your hands folded between your legs, trying desperately to ignore the want that had overtaken you while watching him. You were better than that, better than debasing yourself for someone like him. Still, a shiver ran down your spine when you heard a gruff, drawn out “Fuck” over the sound of the stupid Vought A Burger commercial that was on.

The sink ran. Toilet flushed. Your head was pounding when he walked out of the bathroom and back to the couch. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, throwing your panties at you.

The balled up garment landed on your lap, wet and heavy with his cum. With a reluctant, trembling hand, you pushed it onto the floor.

Your voice cracked as you half-heartedly told him, “You’re disgusting.”

He scoffed, his arm draped across the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder. “You should take it as a compliment. There’s plenty of other broads I could’ve jacked off to—Hayworth, Bardot, Fawcett—”

“But none of them had their panties lying around here, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.” He was silent for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I’m gonna get you to fold sooner or later. Then, I’m really gonna make you beg for it.”

“Don’t bet on it,” you mumbled.

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[girlactionfigure]

Antisemitism, an old saying goes, is the canary in the coal mine. The implication is that, when antisemitism is rising in a society, this is a telltale sign that said society is in decline. In many cases throughout history, this has very much been true. For example, the Nazis rose to power -- and later led their country into a suicidal war -- by mobilizing German society with inflammatory antisemitic rhetoric.

Nevertheless, I’ve always really hated the expression, not because it’s necessarily untrue, but because of the implication that what really makes antisemitism matter is that Jew-hatred eventually poisons everything and everyone else. I think antisemitism matters because Jews are human beings, and that should be enough for us to act decisively against it, not because antisemitism might, in the future, affect other groups of people.

Regardless, I do think that it’s important for people to understand why and how antisemitism eventually might affect them too.

ANTISEMITISM AS A SIGN OF SOCIETAL DECLINE

Which came first: the chicken or the egg? In other words, do societies decline because of antisemitism, or does antisemitism rise because societies are in decline? In my opinion, it’s a little bit of both.

First, it’s important to understand how antisemitism functions. Antisemitism is not only a bigotry, but a worldview that relies on conspiracies, scapegoating, and projection. When things are bad -- for instance, when a society is in disarray -- people need someone to blame. When a child went missing in the Middle Ages, who was at fault? Why, the Jews, of course. When as much as 30 to 60% of the European population died from the Black Death in the 14th century, who was to blame? The Jews. When Weimar Germany suffered from economic hardships, who else could be at fault but the Jews?

I personally noticed this phenomenon in real-time in 2020, following the murder of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter protests. Instead of holding American police to account for their police brutality, very quickly, antisemites swept in with the “Deadly Exchange” conspiracy theory, which absurdly posits that it’s the Jewish state that is at fault for police brutality in the United States (as though American police brutality didn’t exist before 1948!). In this sense, it’s obvious that antisemitism rises when societies are in strife.

On the other hand, pre-existing antisemitism will poison everything in a society. White supremacists and Islamic fundamentalist terrorist groups, for example, often recruit followers with antisemitic rhetoric, but their violence targets more than just Jews. It doesn’t take long for hostile antisemitic environments to become hostile to many other groups of people.

"FIRST THEY CAME FOR THE..."

Surely you’ve heard the famous Martin Niemöller poem: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.”

It is, perhaps, the quotation most often associated with the Holocaust and the Nazi persecution of Jews and political dissidents. And while Pastor Niemöller certainly had a point, the question bears repeating: why must others be targeted alongside Jews for antisemitism to matter? Shouldn’t antisemitism matter simply because Jews are human beings deserving of fundamental human rights and dignity?

As it turns out, Niemöller never quite got the memo. In the early 1930s, he not only openly agreed with Nazi ideology, but he voted the Nazis into power. His change of heart came not because he atoned for his antisemitism, but because he disliked how the Nazi Party was meddling with the Lutheran Church, which led to his eventual arrest. Even worse: after the Allied victory, he opposed the de-Nazification of Germany because he thought that it would “do more harm than good.”

In the end, it seems, for Niemöller, antisemitism only mattered when it affected him personally.

"FIRST THE SATURDAY PEOPLE, THEN THE SUNDAY PEOPLE"

The proverb “min sallaf es-sabt lāqā el-ḥadd qiddāmūh” — “after Saturday comes Sunday”— is used in many Middle Eastern countries, including Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon, to describe the treatment of Middle Eastern Jews and Christians. A popular variation is “first the Saturday people [Jews, who observe Shabbat on Saturday], then the Sunday people [Christians, who attend church on Sundays.” The idea is that what has been done to the Jews of the Middle East is now what is being done to Middle Eastern Christians.

The origins of the phrase, with this particular meaning, are contested, but some historians trace it back to the 1936-1939 Arab Revolt in Palestine and claim that it was coined by the followers of the Nazi collaborator Palestinian leader Haj Amin Al-Husseini. The phrase has also been attributed to the pro-Zionist Maronite Christians in Lebanon in the 1930s and 1940s. After the British authorities passed the 1939 White Paper, which virtually banned all Jewish immigration to and land purchases in Palestine, some Palestinian Arab Christians reportedly worried that they would be marginalized next.

In the 1940s and 1950s, virtually 100% of the Jewish population of the Middle East — which once numbered at around a million — was expelled from their homes in a series of systematic expulsions and massacres.  

Unfortunately, much as the proverb predicts, Middle Eastern Christians have suffered a similar fate. In 1900, Christians made up about 13% of the population of the Middle East. Today, Christians form only 4% of the Middle Eastern population.

Assyrian, Maronite, Coptic, and other Native Middle Eastern Christians have been driven out of their homes by Islamic fundamentalist violence, a recent example being the massacres and executions perpetrated by ISIS.

JIHADIST GROUPS

Like white supremacist groups, Islamist jihadist groups such as ISIS have historically used antisemitic rhetoric as a “gateway drug” for recruitment. For example, Damon Joseph, also known as Abdullah Ali Yusuf, was indicted by a federal court in late 2018 for providing material support to ISIS. After an investigation, it seems that Joseph had been radicalized within a matter of months, following his conversion to Islam. Joseph, however, had espoused antisemitic beliefs for years, and it seems that his pre-existing antisemitic worldview influenced his fundamentalist interpretation of Islam.

According to former CIA agent John Kiriakou, after the CIA captured Abu Zubaydah, who at the time was believed to be the number three in Al Qaeda, Abu Zubaydah said that he never hated America and only wanted to kill Jews and attack Israel.  

Similarly, in his 2002 “Letter to the American People,” in which he “explained” the 9/11 attacks, Al Qaeda founder Osama bin Laden justified his terrorist acts on the basis that the United States is allied with Israel and Jews allegedly “control” the American government.

Since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas War, Jihadist groups have recruited lone wolf attackers in third countries by inciting against Israel.  

Hezbollah, which was formed to fight Israel’s existence, has now taken the lives of Syrians, Lebanese, Iranians, and much more.  

Antisemitism is closely linked to Islamist terrorism, even terrorism that doesn’t specifically target Jews, and it should be considered an international security threat.

WHITE SUPREMACY

Antisemitism is foundational to white supremacy, but it is not exclusive to white supremacy. White supremacy does not exist without antisemitism, but white supremacists don’t exclusively target Jews, and non-white supremacist ideologies can be antisemitic, too. In other words, all white supremacists are antisemitic, but not all antisemites are white supremacists, and white supremacists are bigoted toward many other groups of people, too.

Antisemitism plays a very specific function within white supremacy. White supremacists rely on antisemitism to (1) scapegoat, and (2) divide and conquer. For example, white supremacists believe that Jews are behind a supposed “white genocide,” aiming to replace white folks with Brown and Black folks. In other words, what starts with Jews doesn’t just end with Jews.

White supremacist groups often recruit online with antisemitic rhetoric, and many violent white supremacists were radicalized by consuming antisemitic content.

In the 1920s, the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan is tied directly to the 1913 lynching of Leo Frank, a Jewish American. The KKK then went on to terrorize Black Americans.

DOMESTIC TERRORISM, MASS SHOOTINGS

Many domestic terrorists and mass shooters have been radicalized through antisemitic rhetoric, even if their violence eventually targeted other people. Some examples include Nikolas Cruz, who murdered 17 Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students and employees in 2018, and the perpetrators of the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, which killed 168 people.

rootsmetals

you shouldn’t wait until antisemitism affects you personally to care, but antisemitism *will* affect you personally eventually, whether you’re Jewish or not.

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

[hyewka]

idk if you’ve done this but fwb yeonjun who gets jealous of you being too friendly with other men

warnings; fwb, semi public, a little toxic, not proofread

“Why does Yeonjun keep staring at you? Wait no…glaring at you. Girl. What. Have. You. Done.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, deciding to drown out your thoughts by finishing your drink in one swig. This entire party you’ve been trying to ignore it. His weirdly possessive behavior.

Throwing his hand over your shoulder and snuggling you closer to him than usual, “accidentally” introducing himself as your boyfriend, then the accident turns into an “inside joke” where he just keeps introducing himself as your boyfriend like its the most hilarious thing ever—it’s all too obvious.

But then it’s not.

Not when you decide to look over at him, only to find that his arms are wrapped around a new girl. You roll your eyes. “I fucked him Yunjin. That’s what I did.”

You expect the gasps in horror and “I told you to stay away from him”, “he’s literally a manwhore!” but Yunjin only rolls her eyes making you blink rapidly in shock. “What? I already know you guys are fuckbuddies babe, that doesn’t explain why he’s been attached to your hip the past three hours. Until, well, now.”

You snap your fingers. “You noticed it too right? It’s weird! It feels like he’s jealous but then he goes and sucks another girls face right in front of me—God.” You cut off your tyrant as you feel the sudden urge to vomit watching the girl and Yeonjun get more and more handsy right across from you.

You don’t miss Yunjin’s mutter as she drags your hopeless ass away from the scene, “Fucking manwhore.”

—

Of course the pious Choi Yeonjun, lining up with his behavior the entire night, pulled you by the wrist to a quote secluded area at the party. It’s dark but not entirely…private.

Yet you always fall back into it, you’re always in his arms, despite the setting, not anyone else’s despite being far from exclusive. It’s not your fault he finds you when you’re most horny. Which is why he has you pinned against the wall as he fucks you with the same, if not more eagerness in him.

“Shh baby, we don’t want an audience now do we?” he whispers, taking the lead—you blink away tears, slightly making out the dyed hair had plastered onto his forehead.

You nod frantically as his hand pressed over your mouth, no doubt smudging your lipstick, slowly slips. You squeeze your eyes shut when he rolls his hips against you, thrusting sharply into you, making you slightly jolt up against the wall.

“No, no don’t shut up completely, wanna hear you. Moan my name princess. Only for my ears.” he slurs, the tipsiness evident in his voice.

“Yeonjun.” you gasp for air, “Yeonjun—no, f-fuck.”

“What?” he breathes, busying himself with pressing kisses all over your neck, stably holding you up against the wall with his arms, pressing his body flush against yours.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

It’s like he didn’t expect the sudden aggression, pausing his hungry attack to your neck for a second—until you feel his lips curl up into what you assume to be a smile against your skin again. He’ll always be a cocky prick.

You feel his breath fan, as he picks up a more rhythmic speed. “Hm?” he hums, like he’s innocent. Sly fox.

You scratch at his back, curling his shirt’s fabric into your hand, breath hitching the more he hits a spot, like he’s brutally digging into your cervix. “Don’t—don’t act dumb. Pulling me away like a child from Juyeon like that was so-” suddenly, he drives his cock further, having your body bounce like a fucking ragdoll. It’s like he’s trying to shut you up.

“It was so—mmf-embarrassing.” you manage to mewl, trying not to let yourself fall into a headspace.

“Aw. Was it?” he mocks, scoffing, hand slipping down to rub at your clit, making your legs weak like jelly all the more as they tremble to keep wrapped around his waist. “You know what’s embarrassing? Everyone knowing you’re mine yet you still having the audacity to whore yourself out.”

You gasp, scandalized—though the shock doesn’t linger on for too long—not when he’s practically splitting you open.

He hides his face between the junction of your neck and shoulder, suddenly biting down having your body jolt in pain— you let out a string of hissed curses. “Laughing at every dumb joke Juyeon makes? You know he’s not even that funny right?”

His tongue licks, then he sucks, over and over again.

“God, and then slapping his shoulder, smiling at him like he’s the shit.” He dryly laughs, getting rough the faster he rubs, “So fucking annoying.”

“Yeonjun.”

It’s like he knows what you’re going to say, and he’s trying his absolute hardest from getting you to say it, so he immediately presses his lips against yours, your moans drowned out against his. It’s sloppy, but he doesn’t stop. He kisses you, again and again and again, finding your hands to intertwine with his, pinning it against the wall. It’s so…oddly intimate.

You don’t get it, you don’t. The last time you had seen him, he was about to fuck a girl right then and there for all to see then the next he’s pulling you away like an angry boyfriend who caught his girlfriend cheating.

In fact, this isn’t even the first time. Hes always acted like a boyfriend, so much so everyone was sure you guys were together for a period of time before he was off fucking some other bitch again.

It …pisses you off.

Your orgasm washes over you, the tightening finally snapping as you finally get to breathe, heaving, seeing white as you catch your breath while simultaneously feeling Yeonjun cum in you, again. Was that the issue? Letting him keep doing that? Was that your first mistake?

“Fuck, that was nice.” He says, out of breath, staying inside for a couple more seconds before finally slipping out of you.

But you’re out of it, staring at the ground. “Hey, you good?” he asks, as he pulls up his pants. “Want me to get tissues real qui-”

“Yeonjun. We’re not exclusive.”

He pauses for a second.

Then, he laughs, buckling his jeans, “No shit?”

“So…why do you act like we are?”

note: lol has anyone noticed how often i cut off with some dumbass cliffhanger 😭 yup thats just me not knowing how to end a fic properly ijbol forgive me 🙏🏼

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 8 - april 15 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.9 wordcount: 1501

Of course, you felt bad. Dylan’s most important boarding competition of the year fell during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, but you couldn’t not go. To Monaco. It wasn’t just the race—it was everything. Your whole life. Racing was in your blood, the paddock your second home, the people in it your family. Missing a race weekend wasn’t just unthinkable; it was impossible.

“It’s not this competition, I don’t care about that, it’s everything, not going to Japan, …” 

”Dyl, I’m sorry, you know racing is my life, it has always been part of my life, I can’t give that up.”

“I should be part of your life now too” you looked at him a bit confused. 

‘’You are’’

“I’m so sorry.. I love you and I really thought I could do this, that I didn’t care, not going to Japan, my competitions, all the time apart, but I’m tired of not caring” 

“Dyl..” your voice trembled, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t want to lose you, I liked that you had your own life and I had mine, but I want to share the same life as well, like you and your racing friends. I want that, someone to be at all my competitions and know everyone, I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t…” Dylan continued. And he wasn’t wrong to want to share a life with you—one that didn’t revolve around track schedules, podium celebrations, and flights halfway across the world. You were so happy you had found someone that could deal with that, it wasn’t easy. Turns out, it really isn't, not even for the coolest professional snowboarder. 

At first you didn’t cry. Not because you thought it made you weak, not because the overwhelming emotion wasn’t sadness. You were frustrated—at the situation, at yourself, at the inevitable clash between the life you live and the life Dylan and most other people wanted, this always having been a subject in your life. - Max showed up later that afternoon, letting himself in with the spare key you’d given him. You were still on the couch, staring blankly at the wall when he flopped down beside you.

“I heard,” he interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Dylan texted me. He knows I’d come to check on you whether you wanted me to or not. Are you okay?”

You blinked at him. “Dylan texted you?” your voice breaking.

Max held up his hands. “Just to say you’d broken up. Don’t worry, he didn’t give me a play-by-play. But I figured you might need your twin brother to cheer you up.” 

“I’m fine,” you said while crying, the words feeling hollow even as you said them.

“You don’t look fine,” Max said, his tone softer now. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how to not feel guilty about something that wasn’t your fault.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to wipe some tears away. “It’s just...I don’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. Racing is my life, and I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t give it up. Not for him, not for anyone. But maybe that makes me selfish.”

Max tilted his head, studying you. “You’re not selfish. You’re honest. And honestly? If he couldn’t handle this part of your life, it’s better it ended now than years down the line.”

“It’s not about handling it,” you muttered. “He wanted a life I couldn’t give him. A normal life. And I wanted him to want this one.” It was a deeper problem that had been a problem in previous relationships and friendships, for Max and you the same.

Max gave you a wry smile, as if reading your mind. “Not everyone’s built for the chaos of our world. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong for living it.”

You stared at him, the only person who understood exactly what you meant being there for you, a lump forming in your throat. “It still sucks.” You hugged him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Of course it does.” he said, holding you. - Two days later, you were curled up on the couch in your London apartment, watching a mindless rom-com when there was loud thumping on your door. Max had texted you earlier in the day asking how you were holding up, but you hadn’t expected him to organize a rescue mission.

“You’re coming out with us,” Max declared the moment you opened your apartment door, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lando stood behind him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I’m really not in the mood,” you protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

“Too bad. You’ve been moping for days, and we’re not letting you wallow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lando. “Back me up here.”

Lando’s smile widened. “He’s right. You need a distraction. And we’re excellent distractions.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invasion

You really weren’t in the mood, but you couldn’t say no if Lando had flown over from Monaco for this.  - The bar was crowded and lively, a blur of neon lights and pulsing music. Lando stuck close to your side, his presence steadying amidst the chaos. Max, on the other hand, had already disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting up someone at the bar.

“Drink this,” Lando said, handing you a cocktail with a lopsided grin.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you teased, taking a sip.

“Obviously,” he stated, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music. “It’s called distraction therapy.”

Max reappeared with shots, dragging you both to the dance floor. The alcohol had loosened your nerves, and you found yourself laughing as Max attempted to teach Lando some ridiculous dance moves. Lando’s face lit up with his usual playful grin, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The bar Max had picked was exactly what you needed—loud, lively, and far removed from anything that reminded you of Dylan. 

As the night wore on, the three of you found a rhythm—dancing, drinking, laughing. Max eventually got distracted by a group of girls, leaving you and Lando alone near the edge of the dance floor.

“You’re having fun,” Lando observed, his smile warm as he watched you sway to the music.

“I am,” you admitted, surprised by how true it felt.

“Good.” He stepped closer, his voice low. “And good riddance by the way, we dont like Red Bull anyway” you laughed, rolling your eyes. - By the time you stumbled back into your apartment, you were drunk, feeling happy, and unsteady.

You had put Max in an uber to his apartment, too drunk to stay. Classic, having to rescue him during his rescue mission for you. Leaving Lando to stay with you ‘’He snores too much when he’s drunk and I don’t want to take care of him’’.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, kicking off your shoes and sinking onto the couch.

“Anytime,” Lando replied, dropping onto the seat beside you. His knee brushed against yours, and neither of you moved away.

The silence stretched, charged with something unspoken. You turned to him, your breath catching at the way his gaze lingered on you.

“What?” you asked softly.

He hesitated, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he leaned closer. “You know what.”

You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Lando…”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

But you didn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything you’d been holding back finally broke free. The kiss was hungry, desperate, months of tension unraveling in a heartbeat.

You barely made it to the bedroom, your clothes scattered in a trail behind you. It was messy and impulsive and everything it shouldn’t have been.

WN: Im so sorry guys, took way longer, I was sick :(((((

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden @ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ i've missed you miami

♥ pairing: logan sargeant x fem!golfer!reader

♥ smau - fluff

♥ none of the pictures are mine, all were found on pinterest

♥ masterlist

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and 345,672 more

yourusername ready for LPGA

view comments

lilymhe good luck <3

yourusername you too babe <3

user10 GOOD LUCKK

user6 getting the prayer circle ready

landonorris we're rooting for you

yourusername thank you mwah mwah

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

-Top Golf-

“Alright teams of two,” Alex said to the group. “Lily and I, George and Carmen, Lando and Carlos…. which leaves Logan with Y/n.”

“Oh come on obviously Lily and Y/n are going to win. They have an unfair advantage.” George whined. 

You stepped up to the small square patch of turf with your golf ball and club. 

“Shouldn’t have invited two professionals to top golf then,” you laughed. 

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 782,384 more

logansargeant everyone say thanks to y/n for winning us top golf

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landonorris booo

yourusername not my fault you suck at golf

carlossainz55 she’s just telling the truth lando

landonorris I hate you both

user2 why he posing like that

user14 oh!

user1 save a horse ride a cowboy

yourusername amen to that

user2 ON MAIN?!?! 😨

user7 new ship unlocked

user5 shoutout y/n for doing all the heavy lifting

landonorris I would also appreciate some sympathy for having to watch the two of them be all over each other

user7 SORRY?

user10 omg Lando spill

user16 Y/n and Lily ate them up huh?

user13 she’s so pretty :(

user12 the picture of Logan-

user14 this is so cute

user1 is it weird to say I ship

georgrussell63 I demand a rematch

yourusername you wanna lose twice?

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liked by landonorris, logansargeant, and 465,682 more

yourusername embracing my cuntry roots

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landonorris yeehaw

yourusername 🦅🦅

user13 how coquette of you

user5 logan sargeant core

user4 he didn't invent cowgirls

user6 RAHH

user1 USA USA

user7 but does he say you're so american 🤨

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, and 348,620 more

yourusername hey miami, i've missed you

view comments

user13 logan in the comments logan in the comments

user7 guys she's there for golf, not Logan

logansargeant did you need a reminder not to feed the alligators

yourusername ...no

logansargeant ...

yourusername they're so cute

user3 ALLIGATORS?

logansargeant if you try pet one it WILL eat you

yourusername :(

user8 @/logansargeant would you fight an alligator for her

alex_albon im sure he would

user9 gotta make sure he's good enough for our queen y/n

user2 her hair >>>

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by yourusername, williamsracing, and 823,948 more

logansargeant home race

-comments are disabled-

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by francisca.gomes, lilymhe, and 372,392 more

yourusername me and the girls <3

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francisca.gomes love you babes

yourusername ily pookie

logansargeant how come I wasn't invited?

yourusername its girls night

landonorris you'll get her attention during the race dw

user7 Lando is the biggest y/n x Logan shipper

user8 hes so me

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by logansargeant, carlossainz, and 370,239 more

yourusername I love you but not enough to let you win 💙

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carlossainz be honest. who's a worse golfer: Logan or Lando

yourusername lando.

landonorris yea but only one of us can drive an f1 car and I'm pretty sure its not you

yourusername that's LOW

oscarpiastri when you go low, Lando goes lower

user8 the blue heart-

user14 its for Logan idc

user2 BLUE HEART FOR WILLIAMS

user18 "I love you but-" SORRY WHAT? I LOVE YOU?!

user9 I love you?!?! say it one more time for the people in the back

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✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 862,947 more

view comments

user6 I love how this is him hard launching his relationship and then just a picture of him and Alex 😭

yourusername you- you're cheating on me with ALEX?!

alex_albon you weren't supposed to find out this way

yourusername @/lilymhe come collect your man

user7 I TOLD YOU THEY WERE IN LOVE

user19 YES ITS FINALLY HAPPENING

user1 idk who I wanna be more

user5 they're dating?

user12 yea it was so obvious

landonorris get a room

[kisspurins]

hi jia plsplsplsplspls can you write something about wonbin... i just know hes a mess... hes so cute...

୨୧ warnings｜perv and pussy drunk wonbin

you would never be able to tell wonbin's an undercover freak 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hes so sweet n gentle with you in front of everyone else and treats you like his special little princess bcs thats what you are!!! but no one knows how messy n whiny he gets when hes got you all alone </3 wonbin lovessss pussy!!! he sleeps breathes thinks pussy!!!!!! so insane how your pussy just makes him melt and turn into a complete mess!!

thinking so strongly abt perv wonbin who loves sniffing your used panties when he misses you :( if you were gone to class or work n he missed you he would lay in bed sniffing your panties bucking his hips into nothing until he cums all over himself </3 doesnt even have to have his his dick touched when thinking abt how your panties and how they've touched your cunt when it was dripping and wet n god sometimes he even puts the panties in his mouth :( licking and sucking at the pussy part just in case he can taste you from it !!!!! makes a wholeee mess!! cum all over himself n sometimes on your sheets from how long hes laid there getting himself worked up :( spit on the sheets from how long n passionately hes been sucking on the panties to the point they're soaking n all used up!!!!!! binnie always says hes so so sorry but his head is so cloudy n hes a mess n always does it again :( just begging to get between your legs all the time </333

when he gets in your pussy hes the same way :( ruts into you like hes in rut n cant stop !!!!! holding you down n your legs up n pounding into your sore pussy until hes edging himself into passing out :( always saying "know this pussy belongs to me... all mine...." n his hips wont stop :( not even if you beg n beg him to slow down a little :( but you know your binnie can't help it !!!!! not his fault your pussy fits perfectly for him n feels so good!!

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 13

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: thirteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

liked by ellatoone, alessiarusso99, leahwilliamsonn and 5000 others

yourusername: i'm so proud of you guys!! euros champions wooh!! 🤍💙

lottewubbenmoy: 💙💙

ellatoone: tysm!!

alessiarusso99: 💙💙💙

leahwilliamsonn: nahh what is that photo of me ↳ yourusername: lookin buzzin ↳ ellatoone: buzzin fr

stanwaygeorgia: still can't believe you wore that old rusty metal's jersey instead of mine 😔 ↳ lucybronze: it's because i'm her fav ↳ stanwaygeorgia: you wished

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

(doing a bit of timeskip and let's pretend it's been like around two months since the euros bcuz yeah)

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ guys look at what leah and i found this morning

stairway YOU GUYS WENT WITHOUT ME ?!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ well i was gonna offer you but leah said you were busy

stairway WHAT NO I WASNT

willlybum oh well that's so sad

earpsy so this is why you were late to training

willybum i forgot we had training

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ more like wanted to forgot

willybum oi don't expose me like that

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ :)) so how's training going

neev y/n save me from this torture we'll go to nandos together and drag jessie along too

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

neev added flaming hot

flaming hot stoppp not this nickname 😭😭 and we can't go to that nandos place anymore did you two forget? we're banned from last time

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and who's fault was that miss flaming hot

flaming hot i blame niamh for all that

neev bruh you were literally the one that said you could handle the flaming hot sauce fleming and then practically screamed dramatically about how you were dying which got us kicked out

flaming hot I WAS NOT DRAMATIC AND YOU WERE THE ONE THAT PEER PRESSURED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ it was incredibly funny ngl i mean you couldn't really tell the difference from jessie's face and her national jersey colour

flaming hot stop ittt you two are meanies it literally wasn't that bad i recovered fine

neev um you were literally crying the whole day jessie

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and we had to buy you like twenty iced drinks for you to finally cool down

look this is you finally calming down after your twelfth drink

neev yeah not our fault you can't handle any spice flaming hot fleming but we're still kidnapping you and taking you to another nandos place tonight

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ we sure are

flaming hot i'm gonna pull a houdini

lotte oooh i wanna come along to nandos!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you're very welcome to

stairway me too!

neev absolutely not

stairway excuse you how can lotte come with you guys but not me?!

neev bcuz she isn't annoying like you are

stairway

neev

elton no wayy you guys

willybum oh my god i do not have the effort for this today what is she going to say

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh no

the REAL karate kid

ona batlle uh should i be scared?

kie very much

flaming hot what is happening?

stairway

elton did you guys know that you can lick someone's elbow (also known as their wenis) and they can't feel it

lotte righttt of course i needed to know this

flaming hot HELP WHAT 😭😭

neev the fact that i just saw georgia look at me after reading that seriously concerns me

the REAL karate kid unfortunately it's true 😭😭 she licked my wenis

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ..... yeah i have no words

ona batlle 😭😭

steph what the hell 😭😭

rusty metal i wondered why everyone stopped working out and started looking at each other ella, i do not wanna know why you know that, and can everyone stop trying to lick each other's elbows it's freaking me out 😭😭

kie i'm convinced ella has no thoughts behind those eyes it is just elevator music. on repeat. all day. every day.

stairway i think lucy's wenis needs a licky lick

rusty metal georgia get the hell away from me

elton ALSO if you look at any object near you right now you know in your head what it would feel like when you lick it like the texture and stuff

mccard nahh that's insane i haven't licked everything near me so why would i know how it would feel?

lotte why did i just see rachel and millie taking glances at each other

rusty metal GEARGIA ISTG DONT YOU DARE TAKE A STEP TOWARDS ME CAN YOU ALL PLS STOP TRYING TO LICK THINGS WITH YOUR IMAGINATIONS Y'ALL ARE FESTY OMG 😭😭

esme NAAAHHHHH WHY DID NIAMH ACTUALLY JUST LICK SOME STUFF TO CONFIRM IF SHE IMAGINED IT RIGHT THIS IS SO WRONG 😭😭😭

flaming hot of course she would do that 😭😭

meado

steph is this just a daily occurrence for you guys? is this normal?

door knob i'm sad to admit that it is

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i'm kinda glad i'm not near any of this rn

flaming hot fr

neev well i wanted to know if my brain was tricking me or not

esme you didn't need to lick it tho mate 😭😭

neev

alex nahh i'm done i'm leaving the gym just saw daly start walking towards bright like she was preparing to lick her i can't witness this today 😭😭

kie why am i not surprised that it's ella that started this again?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

ona batlle amen to that

steph seconded so glad kyra and charli aren't in this chat to contribute to this chaos omg

flaming hot amen fr 😭

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg kyra and cha cha! we need to add em in here too

stairway wait a sec y/n YOURE NOT BRITISH?!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nopee lived in england almost all my life but proud aussie here 💪🇦🇺

steph ayeee 🇦🇺

willybum i cannot believe this

elton you're an imposter fr

neev and here we thought you were one of us

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ heyy i am an honourary lioness member isn't like lessi half italian?

thet REAL karate kid yeah?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ see and she's playing for england i can support both the lionesses and tillies

willybum okay but now that the wsl is starting the more important question is which club do you support?

stairway oh yeah

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh uhh i gtg do something really important rn talk to you guys later! bye!

neev y/nnnnn dont forget our nandos!! i'll be waiting!!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i won't! better be prepared fleming

flaming hot oh no

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

part fourteen here