#jfc give him a chance

[twistedappletree]

It kinda makes me sad when people say Jin Ling is doomed emotionally and that the only chance of him maturing, healing and becoming a functioning adult relies solely on his immediate family who caused him so much trauma in the first place.

I think it irks me because I grew up in a similar situation but what helped me improve and heal was actually the friends I made who became like family to me. I don’t think people realize just how big of an impact the other juniors’ friendship can have on Jin Ling’s journey in life. They’re not just a bunch of silly kids, they’re just as important and helpful and powerful as the adult MCs in their own ways, especially when it comes to Jin Ling.

Friends really can save your life and I genuinely think our little peony is gonna make it just fine with the other juniors by his side. 💛

[ratatatastic]

"I gotta have you talk about Barkov a little bit... 'cuz, you know, he's your Captain but like... What should we know that we don't know about this guy? He's so quiet, he keeps a low profile—I'm sure that's by design—but he's the quietest, incredible superstar that...When Chris Pronger was working there (VP of Hockey OPs/Senior Advisor from 2017-2020), I remember he used to say to me, 'Hey, this guy is a Top 5 player in the game.' Even when nobody was even putting him in the Top 10 at that time, you know? But what makes him so great? What do you know about him now that you thought you knew before you got there?" "You know, well, everything—because I'm with you! I knew he was in the league, I knew he was a great player but playing on the other side—I'd see him play twice a year and I wouldn't watch that much and I had no appreciation for how good he was. But the answer—I'm gonna give you an answer about Barkov and it's not gonna be good enough... 'cuz I can't answer that question about him yet, I still haven't gotten to figure it out. I don't know to do it justice but he's this extreme perfect blend of absolutely no ego and an incredible drive to be better at the same time. So usually the guys that are really driven have a bit of an ego. Ego's not bad always, right? Maybe I'm using the wrong word to describe it but he will put his teammates and his—everything—first, and it won't bother him one bit! That's exactly the way he wants it! He doesn't want to be the first guy out, he doesn't want to—it's not that he doesn't want to do interviews because of the media! Talk to this guy! You walk in our room—you don't know hockey and you don't know names—you can't tell if he's the 1st forward or the 13th forward by the way he treats people. That's absolutely the truth! And the reason he's not appreciated as much as a player is: I have never, ever once seen him even remotely cheat to the offensive side of the game to score a point. He just won't do it. That doesn't mean he's sitting back defensively! He doesn't give a rat's ass about his point totals, he just wants to win. So he's never gonna put the numbers up that he could. If Barky decided he was gonna generate points—if somebody'd convince him, 'Hey, Barky! If you just cheat the game and score—we'd got a better chance of winning!' I don't know, [he'd put up] 120, 130 points? Like he is brilliant but he will never, ever put the game—you know, what? He wouldn't put himself in front of the game. The game demands certain things and you can't get past that no matter how good you are. There are certain things you got to do in this game and usually those are hard things... he'd never once put himself in front of the game." "You can't score 120 or 130 without cheating a little bit, right? It's just a real—" "Yeah, except those guys don't call it cheating! They call it anticipating. Bad players cheat, good players anticipate." "They see things before they happen, Paul! That's what happens!" "Exactly, exactly!"

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 9.24.24 (x)

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Welp, i also had the opportunity to get the whole Shusters book…and i have barely managed to read the first four chapters of the book without throwing it in a trash bin🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️This is a total embarrassment for Shuster.

Wrong facts, sometimes dates, a clear undertone about Ze being a bad person, some pathetic dictator who actually gives a flying fuck about people in his country, his wife(who Shuster also managed to portray as a victim who suffers throughout their whole relationship cause bad terrible Ze only cares about his work all his life and not his relationships)and of course his kids. It’s feels like some fanfic story written on Wattpad. Sometimes, it also seems like he just made some thing and situations out of his mind to give some kind of undertone. I don’t even know if i can manage to read the rest of the book🤦‍♀️

For now, waiting for your review and opinion Jam!

.

[milesducemdominus]

OOC: probably worth noting, since its everywhere, that this is now a Miles-free-zone. All things considered, we had a thread or two going here and didn't talk OOC; I got away lightly from what I've read and seen - - and just want others to know that I've blocked him on all accounts and that wont change.

[carelesscuriosity]

Paulo bcb is gonna be the death of me

[gemini-sensei]

What's everyone's (or whoever you feel like writing for) reaction to seeing their girls thick thighs wrapped up in a pair of thigh highs for the first time?

Obsessed. Lol jk... kind of.

Hawk sees them amd thinks of them as a gift all wrapped up for him. Makes sure she sees him licking his lips. Literally wants to dive in and mark them up but they are either in public or have somewhere to be. He's tormented by them until he can get alone time with her and lay her down so he can kiss up her thighs and pull the socks down with his teeth. He's about to go wild, no holding back 😏

Robby doesn't know how to register what he's feeling but he knows he likes it. Compliments his girlfriend on her whole outfit whilst staring at her thighs. Tries to make it less obvious but is terrible at it. Blushes and get a little embarrassed all too easily over some thigh highs and thinks it's ridiculous of him without realizing it's okay. It is okay and his girlfriend can help him come to that understanding. When he's sitting beside her, he puts his hand on her thigh and squeezes it.

The spillage is too much for Demetri. The thickness that tries to be contained by her thigh highs and it just spills over the top? Yeah, that's his favorite thing ever all of a sudden 🤤 catch him drooling over his girlfriend's thighs. She will have to close his mouth to keep him from catching flies while making sure to show off her thighs from every angle possible just for him.

Tory can't contain her satisfaction with this decision and makes sure her girlfriend knows it. Give her ass a smack and holds her close because she thinks other people are just as happy to see those thick thighs as she is (I love possessive tory jfc). Her hands are all over her girlfriend, teasing her a lot. Disappears for a while and puts some hidden hickeys under her girlfriend's thigh highs; it's their little secret 😉

Miguel also doesn't know how to conduct himself. On one hand, he wants to touch his girlfriend and tease her, and on the other he's a flustered mess. He's semi-hard in his jeans because of some thigh highs and doesn't know what to do about it, so he becomes easily embarrassed by it (tease the fuck out of him). He's done for.

Moon sees them and, similarly to Hawk, wants to dig in. Just wants to eat Reader up and show her a good time. Touches and squeezes those thick thighs every chance she gets. Truly obsessed. Goes out of her way to buy her girlfriend more thigh highs "just because" but it's for her own selfish indulgence.

[technicolorxsn]

thinking abt asgore again

[everythingne]

all american bitch -- ls2

After a successful concert in Miami, your twin sister is caught having a little moment with her boyfriend outside a club. Most people jump to conclusions, but you have a way to shut everyone up (and give half of the F1 community a heart attack in the process)

logan sargeant x singer!reader

warnings/notes: cheating allegations, cursing, so many sexual innuendos, sexual lyrics, terribly written lyrics should count as a warning... also I wrote this to celebrate logan 2024 <3

fc: gracie abrams

-

04 MAY, INSTAGRAM

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, sistersacc, and 450k others

urusername: miami!! u were ELECTRIC!! a great finish to the first leg of the tour. oh and thank u to both @ logansargeant and @ sistersacc for joining me in miami tn ahead of the gp <3

tagged: sistersacc, logansargeant, williamsracing

lilymhe: LAST PIC??

urusername: people keep sending logan text posts to me and its amazing

user1: girl explain what u were doing last night

user2: patiently waiting on her downfall fr

user3: MOTHER IS MOTHERING!!!

logansargeant: I LOVE YOU BITCH ASS

urusername: I LOVE YOU TOO FUCK HEAD !!! 💙💙

williamsracing: y/n. ur electric.

urusername: im leaving logan for u williams admin

logansargeant: dude what the fuck :(

user4: so we're gonna act like no one saw her cheating?

sistersacc: AAAA SO MUCH FUN THANKS FOR LETTING ME MAKE U MAD <333

alexalbon: thank u again for inviting me and lily i cannot express the joy of finally meeting the woman logan never shuts up about

user7: not everyone jumping to conclusions jfc

logansargeant made a new post

logansargeant: thank u williams for the incredible season and for trusting this american guy and taking a chance on me. thank u @ urusername for being my rock. see u all next yr 💙

USER HAS LIMITED COMMENTS ON THIS POST.

urusername: so so so proud of u baby <3 u did incredible

logansargeant: thank u <3

alexalbon: see u in a few weeks

oscarpiastri: great job man u did amazing

--

EXTRATV made a new post!

liked by 456k others...

extratv: While rumors are spiraling of potential cheating allegations against Y/n L/n, she was spotted with Taylor Swift at a local park in Miami after day two of her residency in the Kaseya Center. Has the checkered flag waved for the American 'It Couple' of F1?

user1: bro its so over for us.

user2: NOOO Y/N SARGEANT PLS </3

user3: people see taylor and think its an immediate break up. taylor literally helped y/n start music bc their moms are besties idk what y'all are on.

user4: reputation era real

--

"Do you see this shit?" You turn to look at Logan behind you, who currently has his face smushed into what was previously your pillow as he attempts to recover sleep from his season of traveling just about everywhere. You would be in the same boat as him if you weren't being hounded over doing your skincare and such everyday for tour. Because of that hounding, you had to take off all the makeup you had put on for dinner as soon as you got home. The dinner was with all your family and friends to celebrate the end of a season and the end of the first leg of your tour.

"No?" Logan blinks open his eyes and you cross the room from your shared bathroom, he lifts the blanket so you can slide in next to him in the bed as the fleeting Florida sun nips warmth into your skin before his warmth envelops you in the comfortable blankets you have across the bed as the fan above rotates on high.

You flip your phone, showing him the pictures of your sister people were using to say you cheated on Logan.

"Oh be so serious." He groans into your side as he looks at the photos, arm draped lazily over you before he plucks the device out of your hands and drags you fully under the blankets with them.

"Don't worry," He murmurs, sleep in his voice, "It'll blow over if we just ignore it."

"Logan they're trying to cancel me on Twitter." You deadpan, rolling into his embrace and snuggling against him.

"Write a song about it like everyone thinks you're doing with Taylor, play it on tour or something.'' He mumbles into the skin of your neck before giving you a soft kiss.

You hate how enticing the idea is.

"You're gonna have to review the lyrics before I post it, because I might make it absolutely filthy." You warn and Logan's eyes widen as he perks up from where he's cuddled into your side.

"Oh please, please, do." His little shit eating grin makes you burst into laughter as you nod, pulling out your notebook from your bedside table and a pen as Logan adjusts so he can watch you scribble down ideas.

-

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 215k others...

urusername: im so sorry to @ williamsracing in advance. my new single miami burn comes out tmrw 💙

lilymhe: get em girl.

logansargeant: i apologize in advance to my pr team

williamsracing: logan please.

oscarpiastri: some times i wonder about u two. and then i hear about you and it makes me wish i never asked.

logansargeant: wow love u too man

landonorris: no i heard the demo im with oscar on this

arthurleclerc: prayers to ur pr team !

williamsracing: well now im scared.

[kendyzzlewp]

i just can’t stop thinking about husband!art and how protective he is over you. jfc, he will kill anyone who even looks at your direction

just imagine

you’re getting ready for a stupid work event, adjusting your dress in front of the mirror. art sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, a frown plastered on his face as he watches.

‘i wish you didn’t have to go’ he said, giving you the usual puppy dog eyes.

with a sad sigh you turn, walking over to him and standing in between his legs. ‘I know, but howard will kill me if i miss this one.”

at the mention of your sleazy boss he tenses, his frown turning into a scowl as you ran a hand through his short blonde locks

‘fucking hate that creep,’ he mutters, his hand softly caressing your bare legs. ‘if he tries anything, promise me you’ll call.’

with a soft smile, you nod bending down to plant a kiss on his furrowed brow. ‘I will,’ you promise.

you get to the art gallery that’s hosting the event, leaving your car in the valet and entering the building. it was already filled with newly rich influencers much to your annoyance. still you plaster on a smile.

spotting your boss from across the room, you made it your mission to avoid him at all costs. not in the mood to stand his advancements that teetered on the edge of harassment.

the night went on, your face hurt from smiling too much, the champagne in your hand already warm as you moved around the space

‘Y/N!’

you couldn’t help but physically cringe as the older man made his way over to you. the smell of whiskey and sweat making your stomach churn

‘howard,” you greet him, short and polite, looking around for a chance to escape.

but it’s too late because he’s already all up in your personal space, saying how beautiful you are and how art is a lucky man and how your dress hugs your curves but he takes it too far, pushing the boundary between inappropriate to straight up assault

his hand finds its way to the small of your back, slowly traveling down until it landed on your ass. you froze, heart racing, legs trembling and eyes opening in absolute panic. no one around you seems to notice your predicament.

“donaldson really is a lucky bastard,” he whispered into your eat, making your skin crawl.

with the smallest ounce of courage left in your body, you push him away. angry and shameful tears cascading down your cheeks in big fat globs.

“fuck you,” you hissed, running toward the nearest bathroom.

locking the door behind you, you fetch your phone from your purse, dialing with a trembling hand,

‘hey, baby. you almost home?”

art’s voice seems to bring you back down to reality, the feeling of shame settling in the pit as your stomach as you bite back sob

‘art,’ you manage to choke out, your breath coming in short burst. ‘I can’t, he…tried to…”

‘hey, hey,” he said, his concerned tone driving you over the edge. ‘what happened?’

letting out a big breath, your hands grip your hair in utter frustration. ‘Howard…he tried to, god. he grabbed my ass and he wanted…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“where are you?” his tone was urgent now, you could hear rustling of movement and keys.

“in the bathroom,” you whispered, your breath hitching between sobs.

“I’m coming to get you,” he said, his voice firm and reassuring.

minutes felt like hours as you waited for your husband to arrive. surprised you didn’t create a hole in the marble floor with the amount of pacing you were doing.

a soft knock caught you by surprise, followed by a muffled. “its me.”

a wave of relief fell upon you like a soothing balm, rushing to the door, you unlocked it, opening it. art’s mouth fell into a frown, you must’ve looked like a mess but you didn’t care. he instantly pulled you against his chest as you fell apart, his presence a anchoring reality to what happened.

“let’s go home,” he whispered, pulling back slightly and cupping your face in his hands. “and you are not working again, do you understand me?”

you nod silently, grateful for his support and you let him lead you out of the bathroom. murmurs and whispers could be heard but it wasn’t anything new. you husband was art donaldson, tennis superstar and olympic gold medalist. he was used to the stares and the commentary.

“mr. donaldson,” the familiar voice sent your heart into a panicked frenzy. “what a nice surprise.”

ugh, that disgusting piece of shit.

art froze, his expression darkening as he looked over his shoulder. he spotted your boss, sporting a smug smile on his face as he lifted his glass. the bastard.

without a word, art dropped your hand and made his way over to him. it was all a blur, but you could recall his fist connecting with howard’s jaw, you remember barely hearing the gasps of the attendees over the sound of your beating heart.

howard effectively fell to the floor, his hand cradling his jaw in surprise. art stood over to him, his fit frame casting a shadow over the now small and cowardly man.

“if you ever come near my wife again, i will fucking kill you,” he growled. “you even breath near her and you are done.”

not waiting for a response, he turned and dragged you out of there.

[voxsremotec0ck]

Some of your clothes go missing, where are they?

With Vox: In his bed. He sleeps with them, if they fit then he sleeps in them. Probably starts a second shrine of his to put them in, the first shrine is for Alastor. Will dress his body pillow up in them. Will definitely walk around wearing any 'missing' vests, socks or underwear under his normal outfits if they fit, you won't be able to tell but he blushes extra hard if he talks to you while doing so. You'll probably not going to get them back.

With Valentino: In his bed. He 'uses' them, has atleast once tried to make Angel wear them. Will try and bribe Angel to get more once they no longer smell like you or are ruined, Angel will burn any clothes for you if Val tries to get him to return them to you. You're not going to want them back.

With Velvette: In her studio. She'll give them back right after she subtly alters them to be skimpyer, they'll go 'missing' again later and reappear with another alteration until they tastefully hardly cover anything. Will make herself matching clothes of yours and try and return clothes that are obviously hers but wants to see you wearing, if you take a selfie in those clothes then Vel has a new phone background.

With Alastor: In your room. He cleaned them and folded them himself and left them on your bed, probably let himself in while you were asleep. They'll smell like old fashioned clean linen but if you have a good nose then you might smell some of his cologne on it. Might even find his 'missing' bowtie in the pile so now you have to go and return his stuff instead.

With Lucifer: On him. He'll use them as pajamas, he will even change his size just so they fit. He'll 'find' them if you mention looking for them. There's a good chance of you bumping into to him while he's wearing them in the morning as he goes to get breakfast, he forgot he was wearing them and not his own pajamas, he'll blush super hard and prays to his father that you won't say anything. If you do then there's a good chance he'll start stripping out of them right then and there to hand them back, you and Charlie has to remind him that he can use magic or he'll end up standing in his boxers and carrying a pile of your clothes in front of everyone.

With Blitzø: In his pocket. He sleeps with them anywhere he goes. will literally throw them at you if you bring up them being missing with an excuse that he found them. If they lose their scent and you don't mention any missing clothes then more clothes will go 'missing' and he'll literally make himself a nest of your 'missing' clothes.

With Fizzarolli & Asmodeus: On Fizz. Fizz has no shame and will just walk right up to you wearing your missing clothes. Fizz and Ozzie will encourage you to steal their clothes when ever you want too, except Fizzs hats because he has to choose them for you. Fizz steals ALL your clothes because he need alot of them in order to make a nest big enough to fit you, him and Ozzie. There's a chance Ozzie will be wearing clothes that look identical to the ones Fizz is currently wearing, there a chance that the only difference is that Ozzies clothes will be cut so his nipples are showing.

I- anon you’re just out here doing my job for me huh?? And doing it BETTER JFC

All of these are perfect omg LIKE VALS IS SO SPOT ON I CANT

Thank you for the meal😭🙏

[brisquad-unit-4402]

luxiem as bad sex

don’t worry about it this is mostly for the lolz. might fuck around and do this for other livers next time i feel restless. make sure to properly communicate with your partner

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, smut, humor/crack, chatfic in shu’s entry, public sex, uki violeta cameo, cheating/ntr mention, just imagine the baldur’s gate 3 scene with the luxiem guy of your choice you know what i’m talking about

⚠️ nsfw under the cut. content not intended for minors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland: anatomy

there is a chance that, when you sleep with ike, despite his title, it’s his first time.

25% chance says that he fully does not know what he’s doing, and asks you for a full-blown tutorial on how to stick part a into part b.

25% chance says that he fully does not know what he’s doing but he doesn’t even admit to it. it’s a lot of trial and error and insistence that no, don’t worry, i got this when he very clearly does not.

25% chance that, for the first time in his life, eroge has come in clutch. he understands! kind of. it’s more like as he penetrates you he tries to compare your sounds to the moans of eroge characters. the more you sound like a hentai protagonist the better. it’s also worth noting he pumps into you to the beat of a huniepop song that worked its way into his head while he was trying to figure out what’s a good or bad sound.

and finally 25% chance that it’s just fine.

but let it be known that he 100% does not know how to find the clit. barely knows how to find the prostate either. ike won’t admit to either of these things

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro: openness

never let it be said luca is solitary. he’s social and likes to explore different spaces. it means dates happen often, and so does getting dragged off to give him head in public.

this would be fine if it was a bathroom stall. you know, the standard couple spots. what you didn’t expect was in a fairly open alley. or an amusement park ride with automatic souvenir pictures. or on the shady side of a beach full of people.

hell, even when you get into a changing room while shopping there’s still a risk. he’s gotten you to jack him off while wearing not-yet-purchased jeans more than once and as exciting as it was you have no clue what happened to the poor retail workers that had to find them hanging on the return-to-hanger rack.

at home he leaves doors open since it’s just the two of you, including when he goes down on you. he leaves them open when there’s guests, too, and guides you into your bedroom when he needs a break from talking to people. the doors are still open. you’re a master at being quiet but sometimes his puppy wanders around looking for his owner, and…

(side note: not about sex but i just know he would leave the door open or walk in on you using the bathroom and that terrifies me)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino: attentiveness

Me: hey

Me: hey

Me: are you awake??

taro_twink: abt to sleep

taro_twink: what do you want shu

Me: idk c:

taro_twink: so you blew up my phone??? bitch??

Me: fjakajsjsldj i wanted to talk to my friend!

taro_twink: wish granted

taro_twink: wyd?

Me: reader

taro_twink: don’t text on a date

Me: we’re at home

taro_twink: go spend time with reader then ffs

Me: i am

Me: reader feels really nice c:

taro_twink: wait

Me: and i like making reader say my name too

taro_twink: SHSKDKLSJA

taro_twink: WHAT FHE FUXK

taro_twink: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TEXTINF ME RIFHT NOW

taro_twink: SHU YAMINO WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU

Me: dw reader hasn’t noticed my phone yet

taro_twink: THIS ISNT ABOUT READER ITS ABOUT ME

Me: my phone is by the pillow so it’s hard to see

taro_twink: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TEXTING WHILE SCREWING SOMEONE????????????

Me: yea :homiekiss:

taro_twink: you are fucked up and i’m going to bed

taro_twink: so done with you jfc

taro_twink: gn

taro_twink: bye

taro_twink: if you say anything else i’m blocking your number

Me: you’re no fun

taro_twink: you are literally texting me while you’re doing your partner i don’t want to hear it

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma: names

vox is noisy. delightfully so. it’s easy to communicate with him because he’s unconsciously vocal whenever he likes something.

these sounds, however, are usually limited to grunts, moans and cries. all well and good, but when things get more intense, he’s more inclined to scream your name.

and when his dick is in your mouth he can’t think straight, in the worst way.

this is just to say that even when you’re not roleplaying, he’s cried out a lot of names that aren’t yours. usually celebrities or fictional characters. you’ve lost count of how many tall/dark/handsome guys with long hair he’s cum to, or sassy women. hell, his celebrity crushes don’t even look like you.

if you have cheating fantasies this is excellent. if you have ntr fantasies, excellent as well. what isn’t excellent, however, is how last time you poured wax on him while fucking him from behind, he buried his face into the pillow and whimpered out your coworker’s name.

he was very lucky you didn’t have more wax to splash him with

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[britcision]

Excuse me while I lose my shit about these panels

He’s just. SO FUCKING ADORABLE

Mithrun’s fucking FACE. Baby ass annoyed fucking pouty bitch. Grabs hand >(

Immediately gives up. “Well this is my life now being held by a man”

And I mean he might be struggling here but let’s look at that hand placement. He’s holding the outside of Kabru’s arm. There is No Fucking Chance of him pulling Kabru’s arm away from that grip. It’s not happening.

He couldn’t peel a hand back, he’s not getting a bicep, he’s holding on for support so they don’t fall over

Also. HIS FACE. Jfc the wet cat has been mildly inconvenienced, jail for dungeon for 1000 years

Now that second hand, the one on the forearm, almost has a chance in hell at being effective… except he’s not even fucking gripping the arm

His fingers are curled over the top of it. Useless. Worthless grip. Not even trying

Look at this fucking noodle man

He’s resigned himself to his fate, he is Being Held, and lemme tell you as a wrestly bitch he coulda probably slipped the hold by going full noodle and dropping to the floor and taking out Kabru’s legs

If Kabru can’t get a hand in his armpit in time there is nothing in that grip that would hold him upright except crushing power, I’ve slipped that hold and I even have tiddies to impede me

Touch starved Mithrun? Delicious possibility

But honestly I’ll pretend to give a fuck about why later it’s just ridiculously cute and is bigger and cuter in vol 8 of the manga which you should buy for this and other Canary related scenes including Cithis And Kabru Do Literally The Same Smiley Bullshit And He Would Hate This Knowledge

[sparklingcid3r]

can u hc darrel dropping pony off at college? like the driver there? and then darry having to drive back alone and all the emotions/thoughts tht come w it?

Jfc yall are brutal…. gimme more🙏 It’s so “Slipping Through My Fingers” coded somebody needs to hit me with their car

- Soda and Darry helping Pony pack was definitely an affair. Soda’s trying to give Pony hand-me-downs and Darry’s saying he’s not gonna need all those clothes, and besides, Soda needs those anyway

- Pony defers to Darry for the most part, seeing as he spent at least some time in college, even though he never finished the first semester

- Pony says bye to Soda and he gives Pony the most soul-crushing hug, messes up his hair and gushes about how proud they are of him. Darry just grins and leads Pony to the truck, all their bags in hand, which isn’t a lot, so move-in will be easy

- Pony’s a nervous wreck on the car ride there. He’s fidgeting with the windows, turning the radio on and off, biting his nails, shifting in his seat. The farther they get from home the less ready he feels

- Darry is quiet, but he’s trying to give Pony a good pep talk the way their dad did for him. He tells Pony that he’s doing a great thing, they’re all so proud of him back home, he’s got amazing things ahead of him. Opportunities will come that he didn’t think were possible, so long as he keeps on top of his studies and goes to class.

- He doesn’t think he did a very good job at getting that across, though

- Once they get into a comfortable rhythm, they start talking about all the memories they have of their parents and each other: Pony tells Darry about the first time he kissed a girl and Darry tells Pony about the first time he got drunk. How Pony used to toddle behind Soda when he had just learned how to walk, and how Soda loved it until two hours later he was still following him. Then he locked Pony in his room with a chair under the doorknob

- They’re just dudes being bros for the most part, trying not to think about how all of their childhoods are finally over

- When the silence grows again, all Pony can think about is how young Darry really was when all of it went down and he had to take care of them, plus the gang. Pony doesn’t think he could have done it. He thinks he would have given up if he was in Darry’s spot. He looks at his brother, then back down at his hands

- When they get there, Pony finally tells him that. And that he’s sorry for making it more difficult than it had to be

- But Darry says he’d do it all again in a heart beat, if it meant he got to keep his brothers under his roof

- Pony gives him one last hug, but Darry hugs him harder. He can’t stop himself from messing up Pony’s hair one last time, for old time’s sake

- And then they realize that Pony’s really going to be away from home for a while, until fall break, and that’s a few months away. So this is it

- Pony says he’ll call, and Darry and Soda will call, and that’s all they can really do now

- Darry leaves Pony in the dorms, gets in the car, and is alone with himself, without anyone to look after, for the first time in four years

- He doesn’t have any direction in life anymore. Is he going to spend the rest of his life and health roofing houses and bookkeeping? Even Soda is getting ready to pack up and move out, granted he’s sticking around, but Darry knows about his grand plans of moving to Texas eventually

- Is Darry going to be the only one left in Tulsa? He was so close, too. But those chances are over. He doesn’t think he could ever go back to school. Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last five years breaking his body and wearing himself down. He can still lay someone out with one punch, don’t get him wrong, but being useful is ingrained into him. Is a college degree enough for him to work towards if it’s not helping his brothers?

- God, when was the last time he did anything for himself?

- His thoughts wander off to his brothers, and now that it’s over, he’s wondering if he did enough for them. Sure, they weren’t always living comfortably—they didn’t have any lights for two weeks at one point, near the beginning, and Darry was up to his neck in stress and grief and frustration—but they were happy. Darry thinks they were happy. Were they? He doesn’t think he’s ever asked

- He’s not sure what their parents would think of him if they saw what he did to their family. He got them both to eighteen, even if he couldn’t do the same for Johnny or Dally. He’s getting them out of Tulsa, watching them go farther than he ever would, so maybe he didn’t disappoint them completely

- Darry grips the wheel just a little harder. No, he wasn’t lying. He would do it all again in a heart beat, if Pony and Soda needed him to. They’d know where to find him

Starting to wonder if we even like Darry w the amount of misery yall want me to put him thru🙏 i like my men in constant turmoil tho what can i say 🤷‍♀️

[bluesyjean]

Truly insane to think that two characters who were literally inseparable in s1-2 (Klaus and Ben) share zero one-on-one screen time in s4. Or even seem to care at all about each other before they go on horrible journeys that WoULd have benefitted from a wingman.

Yeah yeah yeah, it’s a different Ben, but by the end of s3 we had Klaus be the one to convince the siblings to give this new asshole-version a chance. They obviously still want to include him in the family. Why did we not have Klaus give a shit when Ben ran off on his own?? WHY was he never even able to find out how HIS Ben died when the rest of them did??? (He SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE for that jfc. Your cartoon mafia characters were not more interesting.)

The choices in s4 are baffling.

Klaus was the key to getting people on board with Sparrow!Ben. It was a horrific choice to remove him from that story so he could have his massively traumatic side quest that had nothing to do with the main plot and I’m mad about it.

[blacklegsanjiii]

Actually you know what would be funnier? If Law and Sanji don't make a huge display of seeing each other again and it comes to a head when Law is fighting Doffy alone after sending Sanji and the others to Zou. Like not only is Law telling Doffy that he's a D but also his little brother is so skilled in Haki he can sky walk and set himself on fire(which Law will talk to him about on Zou cuz what the fuck Sanji) and then obviously when they win and head to Zou and Sanji is gone Law is like "what the fuck happened to him now"

Third time Law thinks Sanji is dead(well not yet but jfc Sanji) Bepo is crying to the Strawhats about Sanji and they're confused but just think Bepo got to try Sanji's cooking.

In Wano when Sanji comes back they don't get a chance to talk until after the whole raid suit shenanigans and the hats and heart pirates are all hanging around and everyone is watching Bepo hold Sanji and hug him as Shachi and Penguin are just listening to Law tell them about the raid suit when Zoro is like "hey what the fuck" and Bepo is like "Sanji is Captain's little brother! This is the longest we've seen him since he was like eleven!"

Luffy is like "oh hahaha! That's so neat! But he's my cook so you can't have him back, no one else is gonna kiss me good night and give me snacks whenever I ask" and the heart crew freezes as they look between Sanji and Luffy until the entire heart crew piles on Law so he can't do anything to jeopardize the mission.

[milky-fixx]

claim

genshin impact | werewolf!childe x reader

prompt: werewolf + knotting/breeding

summary: childe has been acting strange lately. clingy, possessive--not to mention, his insatiable sexual appetite. a sparring match goes wrong and it turns out your fatui lover may have more secrets up his sleeve than you had imagined... 

word count: 5.9k jfc

tw/cw: 18+ only, afab reader, knotting, breeding, impregnation kink, marking, hickeys, masturbation, talk of having children.

--author’s note: sorry this took me an ungodly amount of time to finish! i have been struggling with it for over a month. special thank you to all my friends who i forced to read this and give me feedback on teehee ahem cough y’all know who you are @honey-oak​ @universal-imagines​ @moonsickcafe​

–

The thing is, he’s different.

“Oolong, when subject to a heavy roast, produces an intense, powerful taste, balanced by light floral notes… a complex and balanced flavor. In my days, I’ve sampled many an oolong tea…”

You nod out of respect, even as your mind is wandering. Zhongli was the one who invited you to Heyu Tea House to thank you for your help in introducing several clients to his consulting services. Of course, you didn’t refuse. It seemed a lovely chance to catch up with a friend, and to distract yourself from your ginger-haired companion’s strange behavior.

Yet now instead of relaxing, your thoughts are consumed by him.

You can’t quite put your finger on how. If Tartaglia could be described with one word, it certainly would not be predictable. The man seems open, affable, but it’s all surface-level–he has enough secrets to keep you on your toes, should you get swept into his tides.

Ever since he returned to Liyue after calling off a Fatui mission, though, his behavior’s been... strange. Even for him.

“The boldest taste, however, comes from the leaves found in Jueyun Karst. They have a distinct minerality… almost like Scotch…”

His manner is still jovial, teasing… but his words are sharper now, like the jagged edge of a claw. Like he’s laughing at some kind of joke that only he knows. That same toothy grin he always sports seems more menacing than boyish. It’s like he can’t keep his hands off you. A hand on your back, around your waist–his touches have gotten more outlandish, his hands straying to your ass, your breasts, even in public. You’ve had to smack his hands away more than once.

And the sex, Archon’s above, the sex.

It’s downright animalistic. Him grunting above you, his hips snap snap snapping against yours. He’d left bruises in the shape of his fingertips from how hard he was gripping you, telling you fuck, Tsaritsa above, you’re tight, so fucking wet. And the dirty talk.

You’d never before entertained the thought of children, but the way Tartaglia could spin the most lewd fantasies from his smart mouth (“Wanna be a stay at home mom for me, hm? Want me to just fill you and fuck you till you’re practically begging me to knock you up every second?”)

“One can’t forget the oolong cultivated in Qingce village… They possess a powerful, roasted character… an entirely different flavor from the ones typically seen in Liyue…”

Not to mention, the one time he growled into your neck during sex, sounding less human and more animal,

“You’re mine.”

And the way he laughed it off when you asked him what the fuck that meant. Because even if it was one of the most explosive orgasms you’ve ever had (“Comrade, really! You don’t have to flatter me so,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear once he noticed your legs wobble as you tried to stand. He caught you  before you fell, of course; he always did), you weren’t an object, a toy.

A possession. His possession. 

You can only assume the way he brushed it off meant he thought otherwise.

Every attempt at getting to the root cause of his behavior left you even more confused, though.

“Whatever are you talking about, comrade?” he would say. “Isn’t it normal to be excited to see my lover after such a long time apart? Aren’t you flattered that I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you?”

“I believe the tea served at Heyu Tea House is sourced directly from Mt. Tiansheng… That would explain the crisp, refreshing quality to the tea we’re tasting now.”

Like the Hydro element he was gifted with, Tartaglia could sway the tides of the convo any way he preferred. Trying to get to the truth of things would only leave you more frustrated.

Your last hope then is patience. Tartaglia after all,  is anything but good at keeping secrets. While he had many, he can’t help but drop hints every now and then, as if enticing you to guess upon the truth of them all.

Zhongli’s keen gaze captures your attention, and it’s then that you realize you’ve been blatantly zoning out in the middle of conversation. You shift, muttering out a quick apology. He clears his throat meaningfully before continuing. “But enough about my extensive knowledge of tea. Tell me, how have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been… fine. Alright.”

He stares at you pointedly. You get the sense that he is treading carefully. “And in regards to your… romantic endeavors?”

You raise a brow at the question, having hardly expected it from Zhongli of all people. “Romantic…?” Then it hits you. “Oh, do you mean Childe?”

Zhongli nods, sipping his tea.

“Wait…” Your brow furrows. “How did you know... ?”

"Ah. Well. Ahem. Word gets around.”

You glance at him suspiciously.

Zhongli glances pointedly at your neck, and that’s when you realize the hickey Tartaglia had left on you last night is visible. You flush, adjusting your collar to hide it.

“I may have been privy to certain… sounds during my last business trip to Wangsheng Inn.”

You stare at him uncomprehendingly until he clears his throat. That’s when you realize. The first night Tartaglia came back, he booked a room at the inn. Then he proceeded to bend you over in various positions on damn near every surface. The two of you ended up breaking more than a few furniture items, to which Childe flashed his not-insignificant collection of Mora to the receptionist.

"Oh... oh no. No. Zhongli, please don’t tell me you heard us.”

He takes a sip of his tea again. His silence is answer enough.

You nearly smack your head on the table. The fact that Zhongli knows you’re fucking the Harbringer… the fact that he heard you two. That others had. You can imagine no less embarrassing situation. Maybe if you fell off the top of Mt. Hulao, no one would be able to whisper behind your back about the shameless harlot traveler…

“He asked about you, as soon as he arrived in town. Childe.”

“He... asks about me?” you say, surprised.

Zhongli’s brows arch. “Yes. Often. Annoyingly so.”

Tartaglia’s mysterious way of showing up exactly where you were at the most inopportune moments is apparently because he had informants around town. “Sorry about that, Zhongli–”

“Ah, Mr. Zhongli! I see you’re getting well-acquainted with my friend here.”

Speak of the devil.

“Childe!”

“Hey there,” he says. He immediately makes his way to you, crossing his arms against your chair. Close. Extremely close. You can feel his gloved hand brush against your shoulder. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

“I told you I was seeing a friend today.”

“A friend, yes. You didn’t mention it was Mr. Zhongli,” he clarifies, and there’s a peculiar note to his voice.

You’re certainly not… imagining the hint of accusation in his words, are you?  

“Ah, Childe. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice seeing you again too, Mr. Zhongli. Hope I’m not crashing the party,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly. You notice Zhongli’s gaze dart to it briefly.

“We were just having some tea. Discussing matters.”

“Really? It looks delicious,” he says good-naturedly. “I’d love to try some.”

“I’ll flag down a waiter for you,” Zhongli offers.

“Nonsense. I have the perfect solution.” Tartaglia reaches for your cup, but you grab it just in time. He frowns, and triumphant, you take a sip. But you miss the devious look in his face.

When you try to set the cup down, he leans in. Surprised, you nearly gag on the tea. But he persists, leaning until his lips are pressed firmly against yours. You gasp, and some of the tea overflows from your mouth, flowing into his. He swallows the tea greedily, until you shove him in the chest. You sit back in your seat, face flushed. Zhongli coughs.

“Too bitter for my taste! Certainly could be sweeter,” Tartaglia concludes.

“Y-You--I--” You  rub your lips furiously.

“Well,” he purses his lips. “I’m sure (Y/N) added some sweetness to it already~”

Zhongli clears his throat meaningfully. “Curious.”

“Childe, I’m going to end you–” you start, before he interrupts by dropping several Mora onto the table.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Zhongli. It’s my treat. Come now,” he says, grasping your arm. “Murderous rage is the perfect motivation for a fine battle. And I think you owe me a spar.”

–

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand once the two of you are away enough from the tea house. You made sure to duck into an alley to avoid the hoards of passerby, halting him in his tracks.

He shrugs, uncaring.

“Seriously. That was embarrassing! In front of Zhongli too.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know. He keeps tabs on nearly everything in Liyue,” Tartaglia says airily. Unaffected.

You give him a death glare. “Oh yeah. He knows all right. Says the whole damn country heard us the other night.”

A triumphant grin tugs at his face. Pride rings in his voice. “Yeah? I can’t say that’s a bad thing.”

You jab his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

He grasps your hand, curling the fingers in. His gaze intense, cocky. “But you like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You enjoy it,” he persists, brow furrowing. “You enjoy me--”

“Debatable.”

“Hah.” He cocks a brow. “Debatable? That’s not what your screaming from last night said--”

"Ahem,” you interrupt, shushing him as someone walks by. He raises a brow, but says nothing. “Didn’t you say I owed you a spar?"

He brightens up instantly, like a child who was just delivered a gift. It’s ridiculous. You have to remind yourself that Tartaglia’s first true love after all, has always been and will always be fighting.

“You did! I’m glad you didn’t forget, comrade. I’ve been looking forward to it. I know a perfect spot in Mingyun Village--”

“Is that why you dragged me away from my date?” you ask even as you follow him.

His laughter dies down. He stops suddenly, glancing at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. I dragged you away from Mr. Zhongli because I don’t like the way he looks at you. You’re mine.”

“I’m not an object, you know that?” you say, frustrated. “Not some kind of weapon you can claim, master.”

“Of course you’re not,” Tartaglia says. “But when I say you’re mine, I mean you belong only to me.”

The certainty in his voice sends you shivers.

He brightens up suddenly though. “Now come! We’re almost there.” He grips your hand tighter, walking quicker now. You notice his hand is hot, the heat seeping through the thin material of his gloves. Almost like you’re touching a furnace. Playing with fire. 

—

Whatever ailment has afflicted Tartaglia, it certainly hasn’t dampened his fighting spirit. In fact, he’s particularly vicious today. There’s a fire in his eyes with every blow that lands against yours. With inhuman speed, he’s quick to strike, catching you by surprise with an underhanded move. One second, you’re upright, and the next you’re lying flat on your back, his knees caging both sides of your body, his Hydro-infused sword pressed against the side of your neck.

“I win.”

“N-Not fair! When did you get so fast?”

“Life isn’t fair, comrade,” he says, grinning. You blink. For a second, you were almost certain his teeth seemed sharper somehow, the tips of his canines glinting in the light.

It must be your imagination.

He helps you up after his victory, but you decide you’ll also play underhanded. You grasp his hand, taking advantage of his lack of balance. Then you’re the one pinning him to the ground, sword inches before his throat.

“Neither is love~”

Tartaglia’s eyes narrow.

You’re certain he’s going to make a move. A counterattack. He is after all, not one to quit until you two are roughed up and dirtied. Until neither of you can put a fight any longer.

You’re hardly expecting his next move.

He tugs you forward by your shirt collar with inhuman strength. You yelp. And then he’s crashing his face against yours, his lips meeting yours in a battle for dominance.

His kiss is rough, demanding. Like he wants to swallow the very fibers of you up. Like he wants to eat you up. Something sharp prods your lower lip and you recoil at the iron tang of blood.

When did his teeth get that sharp?

You frown, but he takes the chance to lap at your lower lip, sucking on it as if soothingly.

He’s fevered.  

Literally. His forehead against yours running hot.

Tartaglia feels like he’s burning up.

You push him away, gasping. His lips are stained with your blood. Despite the sight, your gaze is drawn upwards, where something orange twitches behind his hair.

What the...

Atop Tartaglia’s head are two fuzzy triangular ears. In the shape of a canine’s ears.

“What the fuck?”

--

The thing is, it makes sense.

His lust for fighting, his unruffled manner. The way he likes to bring out his teeth in the bedroom, nipping you in the neck when you said something particularly amusing. (The one time he drew blood and you got pissed.) The gleam of his canines when he grins. (Too sharp to be human.) The feral glint in his eyes that promises nothing but pain--whether in response to someone stealing away your attention, or a worthy opponent.

Tartaglia being a werewolf is the answer you would have never guessed, but in hindsight, the pieces fit together.

His features are sharper, more distinct. His canines pointed, his gaze sharp, his tail--he had a tail, dear god--ramrod straight. Hovering over you, he stares at you wide-eyed.

“You’re a--”

His ears twitch. “Well, I suppose you could call this a… hairy surprise.”

“You’re a furry? Seriously? That’s your big secret?”

“I--” He pauses. “Not… really? I’m a werewolf. You’re…” He cocks his head to the side. “Not surprised like I thought you would be.”

“You could’ve just said you were a furry,” you exclaim. “Not exactly rare around these parts. That would explain a lot!”

He blinks. “Come now, you can’t tell me you’re not even a smidge surprised?”

You raise a brow at him.

“You do act like a dog. So… not really.”

He laughs. You notice movement from the corner of your eye, and see his tail wagging. You gesture him to move off, and he does so reluctantly. Seated across from each other, you scrutinize him.

“So this is why you’re so eager to fight me?”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “When it’s that time of the month, fighting gives me a burst of energy I’m just itching to burn off.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod slowly.

Now that you think about it, you suppose that yes, there is always a certain time of the month where Tartaglia vanishes. You never stopped to question why or how, always assuming he had top secret back-to-back Fatui missions.

Never did you imagine that the cause of his absence would be a monthly transformation.

“Were you…” He perks up. “Were you always a werewolf? Did it happen recently?”

He hums. “Hmm, no. The Abyss is a strange place. You never know how it’ll affect you.”  

You nod. While you saw his Foul Legacy Transformation before, never did you think he had this other transformation as well. “What other changes do you undergo? I see you’re all… furried up.”

“Teeth, claws. I get an insatiable craving for raw meat... fighting… fucking.” You cough at the last word. He glances at you slyly, before letting out a bark of a laugh. “I’m not that different! I’m still me.”

Fucking, huh? That... that makes sense. You feel your cheeks heat up as you remember just how many amorous encounters the two of you had the past few days. He catches the movement, grinning. 

“Truthfully comrade… With you before me, all sweaty like this? I’m not sure I can hold back.”

Before you know it, Tartaglia surges forward. Your hands come out to support yourself from falling. His knees cage you, his face mere inches from yours, his hands planted onto the ground beneath you. Trapping you in place.

He gazes at you slyly, resting his chin on your chest. He inhales deeply, his ears twitching.  

He nips your collarbone, one arm coming back to grasp you, drawing you into him. Your arms are grateful for the relief, clinging to him. Then you’re in his lap, keenly aware of Tartaglia’s hungry expression staring up at you.

“But I,” He laughs. “I don’t even think you want me to hold back.”

His hands come up to cup your breasts through your shirt, squeezing roughly. He seems to grow frustrated with the material in his way though.

He rips through your shirt suddenly with a sharpened claw. You yelp, smacking his shoulder. He laughs heartily, before cupping your breasts with his bare hands.

“You’re s-so obsessed with these,” you mutter.

“Can you blame me? These are perfect. Soft and round.” He sighs. “They’d look even better, full with milk.”

He leans down, his teeth grazing a nipple. You shiver. “W-What the hell, Childe?”

He shrugs. It would be a lie to say you aren’t affected by his smart, dirty mouth. Heat simmers low in your abdomen. The thought of Childe knocking you up… of claiming you as his, of imprinting himself on you.

He laughs again. “I can smell you, you know?” He taps his nose. “Wolf senses. I think you like that idea more than you let on. I’m glad. I like it, too.”

“I…” His voice lowers. “Would love nothing more than to fuck you until you’re heavy with my child.”

The intensity of his gaze, the assurance of his promise, the gravelly quality to his tone–they all have you rubbing your thighs together, hoping vainly to get some kind of relief.

His hand trails down to the hem of your pants. He tugs at them roughly before his claw slices through the thin material of your panties.

“H-Hey! Childe, what the hell. I actually like that pair.”

“Ngh, I’ll buy you new ones later. I just wanna feel you… fuck, you’re soaked.”

Tartaglia is smart enough to not stick his claws inside you, instead using the back of his index and third fingers to rub against your clit. You shudder. While usually it wouldn’t be enough to get you off, combined with his panting against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, his hand rubbing your nipple. It’s all too much. You keel forward, a gasp of his name ripping from your throat as your walls contract around nothing.

Tartaglia continues to rub you through your orgasm, even as pinpricks of sensitivity have you shaking above him, begging him to stop. Finally, mercifully, his hand leaves you. He brings it up to his mouth, inhaling deeply before lapping at the juices smeared on his fingers.  

“Fuck, comrade, that was hot.”

You’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, pressing insistently against him. Wanting to repay him back in some way. Sitting atop his thighs, you grow more and more aware of his burgeoning need pressing up against you, and when you break the kiss, glancing down, you’re not surprised to see his heavy erection straining the front of his pants.

“Here?” you ask, breathless.

Tartaglia cracks a wicked grin. “You minx. Of course we can–”

He stills suddenly. Glancing to his right, the both of you catch sight of an unsuspecting villager, who immediately drops his basket of grains after catching sight of the two of you. You are sure you pose more of an indecent sight, your shirt and pants torn, your skin exposed. Tartaglia holds you to him, attempting to hide you from his gaze.

“I–I’m sorry!”

“Nothing to see here, old man,” Tartaglia says testily. “Keep moving.”

After he leaves, he turns to you. “Now, where were we–”

“Where were we? What do you mean? The mood is ruined!”

Now not only did everyone at Liyue Harbor know you were a harlot, but so did a poor, unsuspecting elderly man from the countryside.

–

It’s not that you consider yourself a prude, per se. It’s that you’re trying to build up your reputation in Liyue, and these risque debacles really are making you look bad. Who can blame you though—you need to unlock those merchant discounts! Groceries nowadays are so expensive.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways, as you make your way back to your teapot, the sun having set in the horizon.

Tartaglia moaned and griped about getting blue-balled, but you told him he could wait until you two had a proper room and bed before getting frisky. You can’t risk any more rumors flying around. You sent him away on so you could finish doing your quests around Liyue.

The sight that you find at your teapot though, is not expected at all.

“Mngh, fuck, comrade. Fuck. So tight.”

“Are you… are you humping my pillows?” you ask, incredulous.

Tartaglia stutters your name out, voice pitching higher at the end. He’s kneeling on your bed, pants and shirt off, rutting into what seems like a pile of your pillows.

Your jaw drops. You take a minute to admire the sight afforded to you; it’s a rare opportunity for you to bask in the view: the hard muscles of his back tensing, the constellation of scars rippling with every thrust of his hips forward.

He’s still fucking your bed.

“Are you humping my pillows while I’m talking to you?” you repeat.

Tartaglia lets out something close to a whine.

“Mmh–yes? N-No? Y-Yes!”

You make your way closer. Sweat beads on his forehead, drips down his chest. Tartaglia’s biting down on his lip, his cheeks flushed. He jerks his hips into the pillows, driving his cock in and out in stilted motions, almost as if he can’t help himself. As if he can’t control his body.

Suddenly, you remember his words from earlier.

“Comrade, please… Are you really going to leave me blue-balled like this?”

An ounce of guilt registers in you.

“Are you okay? You seem kind of out of it.”

He gasps out an unconvincing yes. The closer you look, the more you can see the sheen of something sticky dripping down his abdomen, all over your sheets. With a start you realize it’s coming from him.

You swallow roughly, suddenly aware of just how packed the room is with the smell of his musk.

“How long have you been uh, doing this?” You gesture to him.

He grunts. “Since our last encounter.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? That was hours ago.”

Tartaglia gives you a shaky smile. “S-Seems I can’t help myself. S-Sorry…”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

Has Childe been jerking it in your room for hours? Is this… was this normal?

“You look like you could use a hand. Or… two.” The words are out of your mouth before you can think twice.

“Yes.” Tartaglia nearly jumps at the suggestion, freeing his cock from the makeshift pillow fucktoy he made.  His cock points stiffly towards his stomach, the tip near purple, twitching and drooling with his spend.

You blink several times. You can’t say for certain, but it seems bigger than last time you remember it. And Tartaglia’s cock was already menacing enough for a human’s.

Your eyes glance upwards at his ears.

Correction. His cock was menacing enough to be a werewolf’s.

Your hand circles his cock tentatively. Tartaglia hisses, bucks into your fist.  To your surprise, you can barely wrap your hand around the width of him. Definitely bigger.

Your hand thumbs the tip, and he gasps, hand fucking into your fist. And more sensitive.

You continue to stroke him, although it would be a stretch to say you’re doing most of the work—Tartaglia seems bent on fucking into anything that he can, thrusting into your fist with intention. It takes only a few pumps for him to hiss loudly, his cum coating your hand. He mutters out an apology, his hips still jerking into your hand.

Certainly, you think, he should be satiated by now. The amount he came not insignificant.

But to your surprise, his cock still throbs in your grasp, as hard as it was when you started.

“Does this–is this like a wolf thing?” you ask him.

“Ngh, comrade, I may have neglected to mention something important.”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“My transformation usually occurs only under the night of a full moon. But this time… it’s not.” He scratches the back of his head. “And the reason why is…”

“Because of my rut.”

You blink uncomprehendingly.

“Uh, like a creative rut?”

Tartaglia’s hand falls. He points at his cock, still hard in your grasp.

“Like a… a horny rut, comrade,” he says drily.

“...Oh.”

“I get an insatiable urge to fuck. Nothing else can make up for it. My hand, your hand, this pillow…”

“Fighting doesn’t help?” you ask, remembering his earlier words.

He chuckles lowly, expression grim. “Fighting, for once, doesn’t help.”

You hum, nodding thoughtfully. A thought occurs to you at the feel of your hand covered in his seed, and you release his cock. Maintaining eye contact with him, you bring your hand to your mouth, before licking his spend on your finger. Tartaglia inhales deeply, his gaze darkening as it hones in on your tongue disappearing back into your mouth.

“What can I do to help?” you ask, looking up at him from your lashes. Knowing full well the answer.

“I need to…” His brows furrow, hesitating on his next words. “I need to breed something, comrade.”

“Something? Or someone?”

Tartaglia arches a brow. “Come now. Don’t be silly, comrade. There’s a chance–a real chance-that I might hurt you this time,” he says, flexing a clawed hand.

He looks away, rubs a hand over his mouth.  “I just–ngh. When it comes to you, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold back.”

“Then don’t. I’m not made of glass, you know. I’m not going to break every time you reveal some weird secret of yours. Or try to… put some primal, wolfy claim on me.”

He blinks slowly.

“Primal, wolfy claim, huh,” he repeats. A roguish grin stretches across his face, highlighting his canines.

Then before you know it, he’s grasped you by the waist, and thrown you onto the bed. You have barely a chance to catch your breath before Tartaglia’s form looms over you, caging you to the bed.

“And what if I were to claim you, comrade, hm? What then?” he asks, all toothy-smiled. He grasps your hand, brings it up to his lips. A sharp canine pokes through his lip, nicking your wrist. You flinch. Tartaglia makes sure your eyes are on him as his tongue traces over the cut, lapping up the drops of blood.

“Soulmates and bonds for life are a thing of fiction,” he says once he’s finished. “Real wolves though…” He licks his lips, his voice dropping an octave. “We see something we like, we stake our claim.”

“It’s… it’s like peeing on me,” you mutter despondently, glancing away. Trying in vain to ignore how the action had your heart racing, heat collecting between your thighs.

He laughs, a full-chested, booming sound. Clearly seeing through your act. “Oh, no no. Nothing at all like that. It’s more like claiming you fully. Spirit, mind…”

“And body,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. You yelp. Tartaglia positions his cock at your back entrance.

“Woah woah… we’re not even gonna take off my clothes here?”

He snorts, before yanking at your pants. The buttons go flying, and you squeak. He pulls it down to your knees, not even completely off. Too impatient to be inside you. Then his claws rip through your second pair of panties for the day.

His cock nudges the cleft of your ass cheeks.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod.

His teeth graze your shoulder, and you flinch. You didn’t think he meant ready for the mark. He bites down and you steel yourself. Only to relax. It feels like nothing more than a regular hickey.

“Wha–”

“Ha! Jokes on you. That’s for earlier.”

“What the hell, Childe–”

He enters you in one thrust. The stretch is instant, an intense burn. Tartaglia is big, he always has been. You haven’t been prepped nearly enough. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, threatening to rip the material. His precome helps ease the burn a tad, but you’re still wincing, shifting to adjust to his intrusion.

Tartaglia on the other hand lets out a broken moan. He throbs inside you, his hands falling to either side of your head to brace himself. His claws do in fact dig into the material of your sheets, tearing holes into it.  

“Say when,” he grits out.

You call out his name, and it’s like something snaps inside him. He drags his cock out of you, and you sigh in momentary relief. But then he’s slamming back into you, and you gasp, the breath knocked out of you. Then he’s pummeling into you. Each rough thrust has his balls smacking against the curve of your ass, his hips digging deeper into yours, as if to carve out a space inside you, suited just for his cock. He props himself up on one hand, the other grasping the curve of your hip, anchoring himself to thrust even deeper.

It’s not making love. It’s a claiming.

Tartaglia is loud, more vocal than he’s ever been. He’s gasping and grunting, moaning brokenly about how fucking good you feel, so tight, so warm, so wet, the perfect sleeve for his cock. His hips snapsnapsnapping against yours.

You feel like little more than his cock sleeve, truthfully. A means for him to get off. Yet the thought has you arching your back for him more, clenching around him. You wanna be his personal sex toy, waiting pretty and supple at home for him.

You reach for his free hand digging into the sheets, untangling his hand. Then you bring it to your stomach, where he gets the hint, clutching possessively.

“You want a full litter of my pups?” he grunts. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you. Want you nice and swollen for me, want you—ngh—all round and plump for me.”

You mewl, and Tartaglia’s hand curls around your abdomen, his thrusts increasing in their power. He slams into you, deep enough that you’re sure the sheer force of his hips will leave bruises on your ass, and you moan.

“Gonna fill you up over and over again, right? That’s what you want?”

His hand on your hip squeezes appreciatively, as if imagining his own fantasy come to fruition. Your belly, full with his child. Your hips, filled out.

“You’ll be waiting at home for me.” He chuckles. “With all our kids.”

“Oh, I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he says, noticing your trembling.

“You said you wanted a treat, right?” His breathing is harsher now, his breath coming in pants. He lifts you onto his lap, dropping you onto his cock.  “Then take—this,”  he says, thrusting up into you. His cum pours into you, and you gasp at the feel. Strangely hot, much warmer than it typically is.

He’s still inside you, rutting against you, still not completely soft.

You give him an incredulous look. “You’re not done?”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

Tartaglia grinds his hip against yours purposefully. His cock feels even bigger now, like this. Almost as if it’s engorged. With a start you realizing that isn’this balls slapping against you, but something else. Something–

“Is that–” Your eyes widen. “Is that a knot?”

“Mmf, yes.”

Anxiety creeps into you. “N-No way.” He was already gifted down there. Add in the thick bulbous knot you felt brushing against your asshole? Archons above.

“You better at least use lube, Childe!”

“Now why would I do that, comrade? When I—ngh, have this instead?” he says. His hand steadies your hip as he begins fucking into you again. His cum makes a thick slapping sound every time he thrusts into you, some of it even sloshing out.

“W-Wait–”

He surges forward, burying his cock inside you, knot and all. You gasp, grasping onto his forearms. The stretch is even more intense. You feel as if you might burst apart at the seams. Tartaglia at least is content to grind against you, his breathy moans a clear sign of his enjoyment.  It’s too much though. You need some space, to not feel so hopelessly full. You gasp as you try to move away and find yourself stuck. His knot fully inflated, it catches onto your walls.

He groans. “Mm, not a wise choice, babe”

“You–you jerk. Did I say you could knot me?”

“Come now, comrade,” he laughs, starting up his thrusts again. You squirm as you feel the movement sloshing his  cum around inside you. “I thought you said you wanted it? A litter of my pups. A family of twelve, me and you.”

The idea has you shivering. The image of Tartaglia cradling your swollen belly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, filling you over and over again. You do want it. You want to be nothing more than his.

He’s pumping his hips now, the wet squelch of your combined fluids a symphony to his lewd words. “Gonna fill you up over and over again. Heh. Use you as my own breeding grounds. I bet you’d like that. I’ll have to leave for Fatui missions,” he says, his pause punctuated by his hips digging into yours cruelly. You mewl out his name, and he smirks, digging his teeth into your shoulder as warning. “But you know I’d rather be buried inside you.”

You yelp in pain and he soothes the bite with his tongue. His gaze is trained on the stringy residue of your lovemaking sticking to his thighs.

“Every time you empty out, I  gotta keep filling you back up over and over again.”

He positions you forwards, onto your hands and knees, as he mounts you from behind. He gasps at the new angle, one leg propped up as he jackhammers into you. One hand on your breast, the other clutching the give of your stomach.

“Ngh, you’d really be perfect to carry my kids. So soft, so round. I’ll give you a nice litter of pups to take care of.”

“You and your damn talk about kids…” you gasp out, tightening around him.

“Ngh… c-cumming,” he says. And then he bites down on you, his canines digging into you. Hard. You feel the sting of pain. Blood pools down your shoulder.

“Ouch!”

“S-Sowwy,” he says, teeth muffled against you. “Hab to make sure it’s deep enouph.”

You’re not sure what to focus on more–the pain of the bite, soothed mildly by his tongue, or the feel of his cum oozing out between you two. The latter eventually wins out. You grimace, smacking him.  

“If I get knocked up after this, you’re paying for all the child support.”

He releases your shoulder, laughs. “You know I would!”

“Besides,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. Resting his forehead against yours and sending you a a smile. “We’ll be together forever. And can you imagine a worse fate?”