#my winning streak.... finally broken

[rainbowsinshadesofblue]

at long last. after all of these nearly 3 years. i got covid

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Songs of a Healing Heart | smau

part 2 | masterlist

an: very sorry that it took like close to 3 months for me to finally do this, just got a bit busy with school and internships and life tbh, but i think i might be back soon to a more often posting schedule. hopefully. very sorry this is so late compared to the other part. more to come! like before, don't mind the time stamps too much, they're not important, unless stated otherwise. fc: sabrina carpenter pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader warnings: swearing inspired by: i can do it with a broken heart - taylor swift

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing & 2.621.294 others yourusername it's good to see you back where you belong

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maxverstappen1 trying to rub salt in the wound? i didn't win the main race🙁

yourusername but you beat lando🎉 landonorris ???

user1 shes been posting max a lot lately???

user2 and? they're friends??

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, landonorris & 1.482.294 others maxverstappen1 unfortunately, we could not go out for qualifying today 🌧 thank you all for sticking with us 🙏 the positive takeaway is our good pace in the sprint. bring on sunday 💪

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yourusername glad to see you back in top 3, i feel like it's been too long

maxverstappen1 how dare you remind me of my winless streak? yourusername you'll get a win soon. i can feel it. charles_leclerc 10 races. 10 winless races. ha.

charles_leclerc also ha, you actually got a penalty, sucker. so i'm actually p3, not you

maxverstappen1 fuck you charles_leclerc please 🤷‍♂️ maxverstappen1 alexandrasaintmleux control your man danielricciardo careful, don't want to get more community service now, do you? maxverstappen1 fuck you too

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton & 3.213.392 others maxverstappen1 unbelievable!!!🏆what a roller coaster… SIMPLY LOVELY 🙌 thank you everyone redbullracing

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yourusername congrats! i knew you could do it

maxvertsappen1 i believe you now owe me something 🙃 yourusername i'm aware. and i intend on keeping that promise.

lewishamilton amazing drive, congrats 👊

maxverstappen1 thank you man. appreciate it 💪

hulkhulkenberg 🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

redbullracing SIMPLY LOVELY 🔥

fernandoalo_oficial fantastic drive 👏 congrats 👏

maxverstappen1 thank you legend 💪

landonorris congrats on the impressive win, as you say "simply lovely" 😉😃

user3 WHAT. A. DRIVE. 🩵

user4 P17 to P1 with almost 20 second lead? max verstappen YOU ARE THE MAN!!!

user5 and no drs either user6 and fastest lap for every lap until the end? he was HUNGRY user4 real, how many times did he do it in a row? like 17 times?

gossipaccount

liked by user1, user4 & 2.381 others gossipaccount seems like max went out to celebrate his win with a blonde woman, any guesses as to who it might be?

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user6 i’m guessing yn. they were both hinting at her owing max something after his win, could be a date?

user7 hmm, it could also be a coincidence? I mean not every blonde woman he hangs out with has to be her. user6 true, however they have been spending lots of time together lately.

user8 i hope it's yn they would be so cute together, and it could just be a friendly get together. not everything has to be romantic.

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1 & 3.291.349 others yourusername new little song i wrote for you all. just a little treat before my tour. i hope you like it. music video will be out in a few days. 'on purpose' out everywhere now!

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alexandrasaintmleux new favorite song

yourusername thank queen

maxverstappen1 like it? no.

yourusername rude >:( maxverstappen1 you already know what i think of the song 😶

user9 idc this is my new favorite song, i will shout it from the rooftops!

user10 real like how does she continue to make bangers?

user11 the real popstar

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc & 5.429.382 others maxverstappen1 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

four time world champion!!!! the season had a lot of ups and downs, but being able to achive a fourth title is amazing. thank you to all the fans, and thanks to everyone at redbullracing it's been a wild year!

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yourusername can't believe i got to witness it!

maxverstappen1 happy i dragged your lazy ass out? yourusername how dare you? 😓💔

landonorris good number to be fair! congrats mofo!!

danielricciardo congrats mate! on to the fifth?

maxverstappen1 you know it!

(please pretend it says what, not why, i already deleted the pics and i don't want to have to find it again 😭)

[pandapetals]

Grading Papers

You and Logan are up late grading papers when you fall asleep.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

The clock on the wall ticked quietly, marking the slow stretch of hours as you and Logan sat side by side at his desk, each buried in your own mountain of work. The soft glow of the desk lamp pooled around you, casting long shadows across the papers that seemed to multiply as the night wore on. 

You glanced over at Logan, catching the way his brow furrowed slightly as he scribbled notes in the margins of his students' history exams. He worked with that focused, no-nonsense expression you’d come to know so well, the tip of his pen moving with precise, deliberate strokes.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. "If I grade one more essay on ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ I’m going to start quoting it in my sleep."

Logan smirked without looking up, his pen still moving. "That so? Sounds like somethin’ to look forward to," he teased, glancing sideways at you with a raised brow. "Could be worse. At least you don’t have to read about the Treaty of Versailles for the tenth time tonight."

You made a face, dropping your pen onto the desk with a soft clatter. "Alright, tough guy, let’s make this interesting. First one to finish gets bragging rights for the week." You leaned in, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Logan’s smirk deepened, that familiar, cocky glint in his eyes. "You sure about that? Hate to embarrass you in your own subject."

"Oh, please. I’m practically done," you shot back, grabbing your pen with renewed determination. "You’re the one who’s gonna be stuck here all night."

With that, you both dove back into your work, the playful competition fueling a burst of energy. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of pens scratching against paper and the occasional rustle of a page-turning. Every so often, you’d glance over, catching Logan’s focused expression, and your own resolve hardened. You weren’t about to let him win this.

Minutes turned to hours, the quiet of the night deepening around you both. The stack of graded papers slowly shrank, but your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. You scribbled another note in the margin of a student’s essay, your handwriting growing messier as your energy started to flag. You stifled a yawn, blinking hard to keep your focus.

But Logan noticed. He always did.

"Slippin’ already?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Told ya that’d be too much for you."

You shot him a tired but defiant look. "I’m fine," you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. You turned your attention back to the essay in front of you, determined to push through. You could feel the weight of Logan’s gaze on you, but you stubbornly kept your eyes on the page.

Another minute passed. You made it through one more sentence, maybe two before your pen hovered uncertainly over the paper. Your vision blurred slightly, the words blending together as exhaustion finally caught up with you. You blinked, trying to fight it, but it was no use. Your hand stilled, and your head dipped forward ever so slightly, your breath evening out.

Logan glanced over again, and this time, his smirk softened into a tender smile. You were still holding your pen, but it dangled loosely in your fingers, your head now resting gently on your arm, cheek pressed to the cool surface of the desk.

He sighed quietly, shaking his head with a fond smile. "You stubborn little thing," he muttered under his breath, setting his own pen down.

Rising from his chair with a quiet creak, Logan stepped behind you, his hands gentle as they slid under your arms, carefully lifting you from the desk. You stirred only slightly, too far gone to notice much of anything beyond the warmth of his touch. He cradled you against his chest, the quiet strength of him steadying you as he walked upstairs toward your bedroom.

"You always gotta push it, don’t you?" he whispered, though there was no real scolding in his tone—just that soft, amused affection he had for you. His boots made barely a sound on the wooden floor as he carried you through the dimly lit hall.

When he laid you down on the bed, you mumbled something incoherent, shifting slightly as he pulled the blanket over you. His hands lingered for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, watching the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. "Sleep tight, darlin'," he murmured.

Then, quietly, he turned and padded back to his office, settling into your abandoned chair. He glanced at the half-finished stack of papers you’d left behind and picked up your pen. The familiar scent of ink and parchment filled the air again as he started where you’d left off, the scratch of the pen steady and sure.

As the minutes passed, Logan worked through the papers. He knew you'd wake up in the morning, probably a little grumpy about not finishing your grading. But when you saw the neatly stacked pile waiting for you, every paper marked and graded, he'd get to see that smile—the one you tried to hide when he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And that, he thought with a quiet smirk, was worth staying up just a little longer for.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Summer Olympics AU Pt 3

This is not Lena's first Olympics, Kara learns. Her first Olympics were at age 17, and successfully defending her gold medal status four years later. But as Kara reads further, her blood begins to boil.

Lena's girlfriend at the time, Mercy Graves, had been a fellow American fencer. They'd made it to the gold medal match together, and despite a strong showing leading up to the finals, watching the footage Kara can tell Lena was rattled.

Her movements were stiff, and stuttering, nothing like the smooth fluidity Kara had witnessed just the day before. And Kara hates that she can see the discomfort in Lena's face before the match, and the way she can't even meet Mercy's gaze when they shake hands. She hates that she can infer what happened.

Mercy had broken up with Lena before the match. The press had speculated that Mercy's win, breaking Lena's streak had been the cause of the breakup, but Kara knows. Kara knows, and wants to throttle Mercy with her bare hands.

She could do it too. Mercy's slender frame would be no match for Kara's muscle-packed weight. It would be easy.

But Kara is too horrified to do anything when Mercy wins her own semi-final bout, clinching herself a place with Lena in this year's finals. A repeat showdown, the press touts. Lena's chance at redemption.

From Mercy's smirk, it's clear that she expects Lena to be as rattled as four years ago. But where Lena's lack of eye contact four years ago had been discomfort, this year's was disregard. Lena remains focused on herself, stays in the zone to face her ex-girlfriend cool and collected.

Even aloof, Kara might say, as Lena heads to her side of the lane.

That aloofness evaporates the moment the referee says "aller". Like a shot Lena surges forward with such speed and intent that Graves is clearly taken off guard. She nearly stumbles back, and with the span of seconds Lena's lane flashes green to award the point.

Again and again, Lena presses relentlessly, scoring point after point. Graves eventually rallies, until they're neck and neck in points. Then, the final go. The next hit decides the winner.

Graves makes the first strike, but Lena dodges, slipping past the blade with astounding agility. Her answering tap awards the point, and the gold.

Kara surges to her feet as Lena rips her helmet off, doubling over as she bellows in victory. Kara screams, watching Lena pump her fist, screaming again as the crowd goes wild.

With a whoop, Kara puts her fingers to her lips and gives a loud whistle.

"That's my girl!"

[mandiemegatron]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

𝑺𝒊𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒄𝒊𝒔!𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

『 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 : 18+, 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰. 𝑺𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒄, 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒖𝒑 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 😤💪 』

@sparoart asked ;

Hi Sparo!!! Thank you SO much for all the support you've given me and for this fabulous request! I've been wanting to write something for Crocodile for a hot second so it's perfect that you've asked for something from him 🤭🤭💖💖

I hope you enjoy and thank you again!!! 💖💖💖💖

No beta, we die like men 💪

Songs to listen to ;

♡ Beast Within ; In This Moment

♡ I Miss The Misery ; Halestorm

♡ Black Wedding ; In This Moment & Rob Halford

♡ Kryptonite (reloaded) ; Jeris Johnson

A silent sneer settled on Crocodile's face as he watched you move from table to table, your barely clothed form distracting the casino patrons just enough to lose their winning streak.

Even though it was his idea, he found his hand clenching tightly around his highball of whisky a little too tight, the glass shattering in his grasp as one man pushed his luck by sliding a heavy hand across the back of your sheer dress.

He began to rise from his desk that he'd situated in front of the large, one way glass window that overlooked that entire casino, only to stop as he watched you grip the man's wrist and twist it behind his back, hissing something into his ear that caused him to choke on his words and turn beet red.

The dealer at the table watched between the window and you a few times, nervous sweating slowly sliding down his temple. When the patron finally relented, the dealer sighed in relief, moving onto the next player as the man rose and stalked off, grumbling to himself.

You fixed your black sheer dress, the thin, yellow gold chains that adorned overtop slightly askew. The dealer gave you a small nod when you gave him a look of “I look okay?”, giving him a small smile in return before you moved onto the next table.

“Miss Y/N,” came from behind you, causing you to jump slightly, startled by the sudden voice.

“Yes?”

Two men dressed in all black motioned for you to follow them, your heart sinking in your chest as your eyes flickered up to the mirrored window of Crocodile's office, knowing you were about to get an ear full after that little stunt.

You sighed and nodded, following behind them closely, ignoring the curious looks the patrons gave as you were escorted upstairs. Both men lugged the heavy, wooden doors open and nearly pushed you inside, to which you gave them both a dirty look before straightening yourself out once more.

“You're walking a thin line, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to Crocodile’s turned chair, leaning over the side of it to wrap your arms around his massive shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to his temple.

“You act like I'm jumping at the chance to let any of these disgusting men touch me,” you started, choking back a gasp as the tip of his gold hook swung up, pressing into the side of your neck and pricking your skin to the point that a thin line of blood slipped from you.

“You seem to forget that you are mine,” he hissed out, a thick stream of cigar smoke floating from his mouth as he pressed a little harder, pulling you closer to him as he gave you a side-eyed glance. “You are my property, and anyone who touches you gets their punishment.”

You hum in response, one of your hands moving to grip around his hook and pulling it from your throat before moving away from him, instead leaning against his desk to stare down at him.

You were about to respond when the doors flew open and the same two men in black threw in the offending patron from earlier, the poor man hitting the ground hard enough that a loud crack echoed in Crocodile’s office. The man nearly wailed, cradling his broken arm to his chest as his watery gaze moved to you and the massive man sitting next to you.

“Y-you! You fucking slut, what did I do to deserve this?!”

You hissed at him, eyes narrowed as you spat back,

“You dare-”

A large hand moved up and cut you off, Crocodile’s dark gaze shutting you up completely as you crossed your arms over your barely covered chest.

Crocodile slowly slid from his chair, standing to his towering form to walk over to the sniveling boy before him, another sneer set on his scarred face as he took in the weak patron.

“You come into my casino, you flirt with my prize, and then you insult her?”

A soft, disappointed tsk left Crocodile, plucking the cigar from his mouth to tap the ashes off right above the whimpering man before moving behind him.

“Apologize.” He demands, reaching down to wrench the man up by the back of his knock-off designer shirt, dragging him over to your feet and slamming him back down into the cold marble.

There's nothing from him but sniffling and whimpers, the sounds causing your face to contort into an expression of nothing but disgust.

Crocodile’s foot meets the back of his head, pressing the man's face into the floor as he roars out,

“APOLOGIZE.”

The man full on sobs at that, shrieking out a loud, “I'm so sorry!” as Crocodile adds weight to his head, the pressure cracking both the man's skull and the flooring beneath it.

A slow grin comes over your face as you bend down, poking a long, sharp, manicured nail into the man's cheek as you cherrily replied,

“Apology not accepted!”

At that, he begins weeping loudly, begging for mercy as Crocodile barks out a mocking laugh and lifts his boot just enough to give the man a taste of freedom.

He then brings it right back down, demolishing the man's head into the marble, spraying the floor and your legs in brain matter and blood. Your breath caught in your throat at the action, your wide eyes slowly moving from the twitching body to your lover.

He ran his hand over his gelled hair with a huff, another plume of smoke escaping his lips as he shook off the brains from his boot before looking back to you, flicking his still smoldering cigar down onto the dead man's body.

He kicked the body aside and gripped you by the waist, pulling your shorter frame to his hulking body and crushing his lips to yours, reveling in the way you clung to him.

“I do not like my things being touched,” he snarls in your ear when he pulls away, picking you up enough to sit you on his desk. He reached under your dress and hummed, pleased to notice you weren't wearing panties.

“Such an obedient pet,” he grins, pressing a large finger into your soaked core and curling upwards, chuckling at the pleasured look that crosses your face.

“Only I can touch you like this,” he huffs out. “Only I can make you feel this good.”

You nod weakly in reply as you clench around his finger, your mouth falling open slightly as he adds a second. The wet squelch of him entering you sent a shiver over his back, his cock straining against his expensive trousers to the point of pain.

“Pull me out,” he demands, crashing his lips to yours again as you tug and unbuckle his pants, pushing them and his underwear down enough to free his already weeping cock.

“Should I remind you who you belong to?” He chuckles out, trailing this hook down the side of your face as his hand pulls from you to force your legs open wider.

“Mm, I think you should,” you purred in reply, your head tilting back as he leaned down, his lips sucking and pressing into your throat. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he tugs you closer to the edge of his desk by your hip, his thick cock just pressing into your soaked core.

“Whatever my treasure desires,” he murmurs into your skin before he presses into you all at once, pulling a loud gasp from your lips as you cling to his shirt.

His hips thrust into you as his hand presses against your chest, pressing your back against his mahogany desk as he snaps his cock into you over and over. He presses the curve of his hook against your throat, though he adds no pressure. One of your hands wraps around it lovingly as you stare up at him, giving him your most gorgeous smile you could as he railed you.

His heart clenched, overwhelmed at your expression and how you held his hook. He leaned down and roughly kissed you again as he hissed against your lips,

“You. Are. Mine.”

Your bloodied legs wrapped weakly around his hips as you gave a dazed response of, “All yours.”

“Forever.” He snaps back.

You hummed with a grin, clenching around his cock as you promise,

“Forever.”

[moomuzan]

“sold.” pt.3 pt.1 , pt.2

He had told himself it was necessary—a calculated sacrifice, sharp and cruel like the world he lived in. You had been the piece the enemy wanted most, the pawn they’d coveted enough to halt their siege, to tip the scales just long enough for him to win. Giving you up had bought him time, or so Dazai had convinced himself—a few precious days to dismantle their schemes, to set the stage for your rescue before they could destroy you. It had been, he thought, his greatest gamble. A perfect plan. His genius in action.

But as he walked away that night, the sound of your cries—the raw, broken edge to them—had carved something out of him he couldn’t name. Their laughter had followed him, cold and mocking, until it melted into the night’s silence, leaving only your voice behind, haunting and unrelenting.

Now, in the dim stillness of his apartment, the world he had fought so hard to control unraveled in his hands. The table was strewn with the aftermath of obsession—blueprints, cryptic notes scrawled in the margins, cigarette burns on paper that bore the weight of too many sleepless nights. The plan was flawless on paper, a labyrinth of misdirection and precision. Every contingency considered, every possible failure accounted for. And yet, when he stared at the last step—the step where he would bring you home—it all turned to ash in his mind.

Your face haunted him, vivid and unforgiving: the tears that had spilled down your cheeks as you screamed his name. The betrayal that hollowed out your voice when you called him a liar. “Trust me,” he had told you, with that easy, practiced smile of his—a smile that hadn’t faltered even as his stomach twisted into knots. “This is the only way.”

But no amount of logic could excuse the truth. He had traded you for time, for the slimmest chance at victory. He had gambled with your life, and even if he could bring you back, even if he succeeded, he could never undo the sin of handing you over.

The night he finally reached you, the sight of you shattered something in him that he hadn’t thought was still capable of breaking. The room was damp and suffocating, the air heavy with rot and blood. A single bulb flickered weakly above you, casting jagged shadows across your broken form. You were slumped against the wall, your breathing shallow, your wrists bound and bruised. The edges of his vision blurred as he dropped to his knees beside you, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

He breathed your name, trembling. “It’s me. I’m here to take you home.”

Sluggishly, your head turned at the sound of his voice, and for a moment—just a moment—relief flickered in your eyes. But it was snuffed out as quickly as it came, replaced by something raw, burning, and unrelenting. You flinched as if his very presence hurt, your body curling in on itself as much as the chains would allow.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice hoarse, brittle. “Don’t touch me.” The words cut him like glass, but you didn’t stop. “You… You did this.” Your breaths hitched, pain evident in every trembling word. “You gave me to them.”

His chest tightened, the weight of your accusation threatening to crush him. “I had to,” he whispered, as if the words could absolve him. “It was the only way to keep you alive—”

“Alive?” The word was spat from your lips, sharp and venomous. You lifted your head, and the sight of you—the blood on your lips, the tears streaking down your hollowed cheeks—made his heart seize. “Look at me, Dazai,” you choked out, coughing violently. “This is what you call alive? You promised me. You promised you’d protect me.” A sob tore from you, raw and guttural. “And you sold me.”

“I came back for you,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as he reached out again. “I—I kept my promise—”

“You don’t get to say that!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of it. The chains rattled as you twisted away from him, your body trembling with the effort. “You don’t get to act like you care. You don’t get to pretend you didn’t choose them over me.” Tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood on your lips. “You always lie, Dazai. That’s all you ever do.”

He froze, the truth of your words striking him harder than any blow ever had. He had lied. He had lied to everyone, but worst of all, he had lied to you—to the one person who had believed him, who had trusted him. And now, he could see it in your eyes, in the way you refused to look at him fully: he had destroyed that trust.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered, the words trembling on his lips as if speaking them might make them true. “I swear, Fuck, just—just hold on. I can—”

“Stop,” you rasped, cutting him off, your voice trembling but resolute. “Stop lying to me.” Your head tilted weakly to the side, away from him, your face slackening with exhaustion. “Just leave, Dazai. Just… go.”

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you close your eyes, as if shutting him out completely. For the first time, he saw the truth: you didn’t believe him anymore. You didn’t want to. Whatever had been between you—whatever fragile, unspoken bond—was gone, crushed beneath the weight of his choices.

And when your breathing slowed, when your body finally went still, Dazai felt something inside him die, too. He reached out one last time, his fingers brushing against the warmth that was already fading from your skin, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

As he stayed there, kneeling in the suffocating silence, his hands trembled as they hovered uselessly in the air. He wanted to beg for your forgiveness, to scream at the universe, to claw back the moments that had led to this. But the room remained silent, the weight of your absence pressing down on him until it was unbearable.

By the time he finally rose, it was with all the heaviness of a man condemned. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The memory of your face—your anger, your betrayal, your brokenness—would be carved into him forever, and he knew that no redemption could ever erase what he had done.

The night air bit at his skin as he stumbled into the streets, the stars above cold and unfeeling. Somewhere in the void, he wondered if you would ever forgive him—if you could ever find it in you to understand the impossible choices he had made. But even as the thought came, he already knew the answer. He deserved the darkness waiting for him.

He deserved to carry this guilt, this grief, until it swallowed him whole.

[ihfmseatsoch]

Big bro Daisuke……

big bro daisuke....... 🤭 i dont think this was even a request but i threw together a fic anyway -3-

warning: incest, suggestive

word count: 1.5k

fem!reader

(yes the fact that youre both playing smash bros is a sneaky little joke. because. um. youre smashing your bro. 😁 okay now clap and double over in laughter for me)

—

Daisuke acts more like an annoying little brother, rather than the eldest.

Of course, that didn't hinder your relationship with him. In fact, being able to be immature and dumb with him brought you closer together. Whether it be attempting (and failing) a kickflip competition that got him sent to the ER for a broken arm, or baking brownies with a concerning lack of the required ingredients as quietly as you could at 2:00 AM, you were attached at the hip.

Sometimes quite literally, when you'd lay beside eachother on his bed, playing Super Smash Bros on your original Wii that shockingly hasn't killed itself from old age.

Daisuke snickered to himself as he glanced over at you, his hand clenched around the remote. He was sitting upright in his bed, a pillow propped up against his back. On the screen, his Kirby proceeded to kick your Peach’s ass.

"No fuckin' fair, Dai," You whine childishly, "You never even give me a pity win." You watch yourself die in-game for the fifth time. It wasn't his fault he was incredibly lucky at games of all kinds; video, board, whatever it may be. It pissed you off to no end sometimes.

Daisuke laughed obnoxiously, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He was gloating over your losses, as per usual. "Pity win?" he teased, "Maybe I would give you wins if you were actually, y'know, good at this."

"You cheat." You accuse him, as many other have time and time again. It was ridiculous how he won EVERYTHING. "You're a cheater and a liar and a fiend."

He let out an exaggerated gasp, feigning offense. He made a show of placing a hand over his chest. "I never cheat!" he lied through his teeth, "I just happen to be the most natural, talented gaming prodigy... ever."

"Whatever." You nudge your leg against his, roughly. You cross your arms and throw your own controller across the bed, turning your head away for even more dramatic effect. "You don't love me enough to let your sweet, cute, and exceptionally beautiful little sister win. For shame, Dai."

Daisuke chuckled at your display. He leaned in, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight embrace. "Awww, come on, you know I love 'ya." He giggled, ruffling your hair. "But sorry, not sorry. No easy wins for you. I gotta keep my winning streak going, y'know?"

You squirm in his grasp, kicking your legs and trying to shove him off, but he's surprisingly strong, given his lanky figure. "Nooo, cheaters don't get hugs!" You grunt and struggle to worm away, although you're not exactly putting much genuine effort into it. You secretly don't want him to let go at all.

Your complaints only cause him to squeeze you tighter, trapping you against his chest, restraining your flailing limbs and preventing your escape. He snickered at your fruitless attempts. "Sounds like someone's just a sore looosseerrr." Daisuke taunted.

He tried to ignore the way your ass keeps pressing against his crotch, grinding and writhing... on his life he tried, but he's only a man. A young one, at that, so he doesn't exactly possess the willpower to contain himself. "You're so mean. Just plain cruel." You pout, finally giving up as your body goes lax in his arms.

Daisuke tries to focus on anything but the way your body feels against his. It's hard to ignore, when he can feel his pants start to get just a teensy bit tighter. He tries to play it off cool, pretending like he doesn't feel it at all. "I'm just taking my role as the big brother seriously. Gotta show you who's in charge." he shifted a little, subtly moving you to a more... comfortable position. Away from his boner, which he popped embarrassingly quick. Damned hormones, always ruining his life.

The new position doesn't exactly help him, because you still feel something hard bump into your backside, and you curiously feel around for whatever it was. "Dude, I think the remote is literally under my ass right now." You comment, inconspicuously. Daisuke wants to melt, evaporate, rain down from the clouds, and evaporate again.

"N-No, it's just, uhhh- umm–" He failed miserably to come up with a decent lie, a deep blush rapidly spreading across his face. How does one get themselves out of a situation like this? Then again, not many brothers get hard from their own sister. Right? He doesn't want to dwell on the thought.

How does one get themselves out of a situation like this? Then again, not many brothers get hard from their own sister. Right? He doesn't want to dwell on the thought. Daisuke tenses when your hand finds it's way to his dick, and he mentally scolds himself for not wearing boxers under his sweatpants, but he didn't exactly think this would happen today.

You immediately notice it's unusual texture, shape, and size–

You whip your head around, and stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Then, you promptly shriek and back away from your brother. And his hard-on.

All the blood left his face. He was horrified. Absolutely mortified. "W– Wait! Listen, I can explain–!" he frantically tried to fix this situation, his voice cracking a bit more than normal.

"Ewww, how did that even happen?" You cover your face so you don't have to make eye contact with the tent in his pants any longer. Although, you can't deny the hint of... morbid curiosity you feel. From what you felt, it wasn't small, but not too big, either. Maybe slightly above average. Jesus, you just grabbed your brother's cock on accident, and now you're mentally calculating it's exact width and circumference. What the fuck.

Daisuke's face was burning, humiliation settling over his entire being. "I-I don't know, it just happens sometimes! I can't control it, I swear!" He groaned, desperately tried to defend himself, although he could barely speak coherently. He was internally screaming how he's the worst brother, just the worst. He'd never live this down, even in death.

Suddenly, it all clicks together in your mind.

"Oh my god," You mouth gapes as you move your hands away from your face, "Was it because of me?"

What a detective you are.

"N-no! No! Absolutely not!" He exclaims, furiously shaking his head. He's a horrible liar. A very horrible liar. And he knew it. There was no point trying to deny it. He'd already dug his own grave.

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

"Uh huh, okay." Seeing him so red and ashamed makes you feel a bit of pity towards him. He's barely out of his teens, of course he's not gonna be able to control the random increase in blood flow to his dick. With a sigh, you scoot back towards him, granting your brother some mercy. "Look, hey, it's fine. I'm not, like, never going to speak to you again."

Daisuke looked up at you with such a guilty and pitiful expression. He was silently praying and begging you to just, forget this whole experience happened. He looked just like a sad, kicked puppy. He sheepishly spoke up, his voice timid and quiet. "So... you're not... mad at me? Or grossed out?"

"Ehh... maybe a little grossed out. But no, I'm not mad." You shrug. To be honest, you're barely grossed out anymore. Maybe it's your own hormones talking, but you can't help but find yourself... intrigued. Like you want to question why exactly his body reacted the way it did. Was he into you? Boys don't get hard from girls they don't like.

And it's not like you haven't thought he's attractive once or twice. Or fifty times.

"O– Okay, a little grossed out is better than completely grossed out..." He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. Noticing the look on your face, like you're deep in thought, he spoke up, still looking incredibly bashful. "Why... why are you looking at me like that?"

"...I could help you out." The words leave your mouth before you can think twice. You just pray you're not making this moment even worse. "If you wanted me to."

Your offer was like a complete surprise slap to the face. Daisuke looked like his brain has just short circuited and exploded. He blinked, dumbfounded. Had he heard you right? He looked flustered, and confused. All he could mutter out was, "W-what— what do you mean?"

"I mean... must be annoying to just... get hard out of nowhere, yeah? I'm just saying that... whenever it happens, you could maybe come to me, and..." You grow frustrated trying to explain yourself in a way that sounds PG-13. "Look, I'm just trying to be an ever so thoughtful and considerate sister, here."

Daisuke's mind was in a state of near paralysis. He was trying to process what you were suggesting to him, the most embarrassing, yet tempting idea that ever entered his mind. After a while of fumbling, he was finally able to meekly utter, "S-So... you're saying, I can ask you... y'know... to help me out? Whenever?"

It was absurd, the idea of doing things like that with his blood relative. Yet the thoughts racing through his dirty mind only served to make the tent in his pants that he's been trying so hard to conceal grow more uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Whenever." You lean in, gently moving his hands aside so you can get a good look at his... problem, a bead of precum already dampening the fabric.

"Including right now, if you're down."

[hazbinshusk]

ur crazy if u don’t think im gonna ask u for 41 with blitz for that kiss thingy

prompt #41: a kiss out of spite (because of course you asked for this lol) set during spring broken. episode-typical misogyny inbound.

“Hey, have you got any idea who the new neighbors are in the office across the hall, because –” you break off as you look up and take in Blitzø’s expression. It’s enough to make you straighten from where you were digging in the cabinet for new coffee filters, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Blitzø’s whole body was tense, his lips set into a hard, furious line and a furrow carved between his brows. His tail whipped behind him irritably, and he slammed the door behind him. It bounced back open, and he cursed, slamming it again. “What’s wrong?”

“The fuck are the others?”

“In the… conference room,” you reply automatically. Loona and Moxxie were in there anyway, the hellhound muttering something about Millie looking for a parking space as she passed. The little imp had been slung over her shoulder and looked… well, it had only added to your confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Call me a fuckin’ bitch, that rancid whore doesn’t know who she’s fuckin’ with—” he ranted, pacing across the carpet. “Gonna make her wish she never stepped one of her ugly ass stripper heels in Pride. Bring up my sister like she knows—”

“Blitzø!” you interrupt him, surprised by the fury radiating off of him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“And where the fuck were you?!” he snarls, tail snapping behind him as he turns on you. “Coulda actually used your fuckin’ help with this bullshit bitch and you’re up here with your thumb up your fuckin’ ass.”

You raise a brow, anger of your own overtaking your confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me!” he retorts, closing in on you. “My whore-bag ex shows up and the office hottie isn’t there to make me look good! What the fuck is the point of—”

You grab him by the throat, cutting him off mid-sentence. He glowers, tail thrashing, but he stills. “I’m sure that was supposed to feel like a compliment buried somewhere down there in the bullshit you just spewed at me, but you’re going to wanna to tread real careful for the next part of this conversation.”

His fists curl up by his sides, but he doesn’t argue. You relax your hand.

“Now, how the fuck did you expect me to help with your ex? Who I’m guessing is the one playing the shitty music across the hall.”

Blitzø shoves your hand away from his throat and grabs your face in both hands, pulling you into him. His mouth meets yours roughly, and he doesn’t give you a chance to get over your surprise before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, his teeth grazing your lip hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood. He presses his body flush against yours, his thigh pressing between yours, claws curling in your hair.

You find yourself melting into it despite yourself, fingers clutching at the lapels of his jacket. You let him assault your mouth for a few more moments before you shove him away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Blood streaks over your skin.

“The fuck did you do that for?” you’d sound more outraged if he hadn’t left you breathless.

“That’s how you fuckin’ help.” he tells you, his own chest heaving. He swallows heavily before he tears his eyes away from you, clapping his hands together. “Now get your ass into the conference room. We’ve got a fuckin’ challenge to win.”

“Prick,” you mutter under your breath as you follow him obediently, thrown off balance by his sudden shift in mood. His words finally register with you, and you speak up. “What challenge? The fuck are you talking about?”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[silenttrxxs]

street racer choi san! x reader

Choi San. He was the cities best racer, he hasn’t lost a single race this season. And it wasn’t a shock really. It become known to you about him when he arrived at the garage, His car a simple Porsche 911.

“Yo, wooyoung-ah” San shouted as he slammed the door, walking towards your brother. You was just sitting down, a book in your hand as you studied, you had your Japanese exam coming up at the time and needed to cram as much as you could in but your brother called you in, something about needing your help because Yeosang his right hand man called in sick and wouldn’t be in. You looked up from your book and gasped. Donned in leathers, his keys dangling from his fingers as he got closer to wooyoung. Your gaze fell to the floor as a feirce blush spread across your cheeks, you moved in the chair adjusting a little to avoid any attention.

you felt a peircing gaze boring holes into your entire being as San got closer.

wooyoung looked up, wiping his hands with a rag and took the keys.

"guessing you want it all kitted out huh?" wooyoung said walking around the car.

"yeah, need to win this one, its my home race in a few days and i cant loose my streak woo" san says laughing.

wooyoung looks and inspects the car, tutting and muttering things under his breath.

"its gonna be a hefty sum bro, i have the parts how about you stick around itll be done in a few hours" wooyoung says grabbing the wrench and looking over to you. you had watched the entire interaction praying to any one that you would be ignored, you was broken from your inner manifestation by wooyoungs voice. "y/n a hand please" he beckoned handing you a wrench as you stood up walking towards him. San looked you up and down as you got closer.

"e-erm hi, im san and you are?" he stutters, clearly not a man of much words towards women. you giggled a little finding it cute how he stumbled on his words, you noted the slight blush creeping on his cheeks and felt the little devil land on your shoulder. the words ringing through your head as you took the challenge, you was going to make it impossible for him to resist you as you worked on his car. of course in a way to not rouse suspiscion. you took a walk around the car, listening to wooyoung as he told you what needed doing knowing exactly what to do and noting it was a 1 person job you looked at your brother.

"wooyoung-ah, why dont you take a break, go get some food and a nap or something, you need it and trust me i can handle this myself dont worry" you said smiling sweetly.

"are you sure y/n, i am starving now you mention it" he replies, laughing at his stomach growling as he spoke.

"yes woo go" you said before throwing his keys at him and shooing him out the garage and closing the shutters.

turning slowly you locked your gaze with san.

"well youre the last job of the day, and ill get this done for you a quick as possible" you say as you grab your tools and start working on the car.

san watches intently, his body heating up as he watched the way your body hung over the car, your mucles contracting as you worked on the car, the thin sheen of sweat dorning your skin, his gaze falling down your body to your ass. He shook his head as he adjusted his stance. He coughed clearing his throat and grabbing a water.

"you okay there san" you said, your head picking up and looking over to him.

"y-yeah im good" he lied.

you nodded in reply and carried on working. a sly smile spreading across your face when you bent back over the car. You knew your plan was working.

You gasped as you felt a warmth behind you, you giggled a little as you took the bar down, finally being done with the car. Shutting the bonnet and turning slowly. You gasped as sans hand gripped your jaw. "youve been doing that on purpose havent you" he whispered into your ear his breath hot against your skin.

you felt your body tense under his touch, you sucked in a sharp breath. San noted the way your body tensed. "look at you, your loving this arent you?" san muttered before looking down into your eyes. his eyes darkening as he moved his leg between your legs. A chuckle leaving his lips as he felt the heat pouring from your body. "so sensitive arent you" san spoke as his hand carressed your cheek down to your throat as he smirked, noting the way you tried to close your legs around his leg and gulp under his touch. his hand wrapped around your throat as he leant into you his form shadowing over yours as he took your lips with his own. Your bodies melting together as you let out whimpers. San let his hands roam your body, his hands caressing your chest, massaging your breasts as you leaned into his touch. Your own hands lifting tugging at his jacket, you took it off him taking in the sight before you as you saw the toned muscles, his tank top clinging to his skin leaving nothing to the imagination, your hands lifted as you smirked, caressing his abs. you giggled as you watched the way he shivered under your touch.

San groaned as he felt his cock throbbing in his pants as your hands caressed his body. His own hands grabbing your arms and turning your body, pushing your body against the bonnet of his car. "s-san" you breathed out, your body clenching around nothing as you felt his hips against you. "so needy arent you y/n" he said before gripping your wrists behind you and ripping the clothes from your body, the cold air hitting you making you shiver, exposing your wet heat to him. fumbling with his pants with his free hand he stroked himself a little before guiding his cock against your folds. A smug laugh leaving his mouth as he watched the way you clenched, your wetness covering his cock in a thin slick before he lined up with your hole, taking a moment to allow you to adjust to his size.

san groaned as your heat enveloped his cock, his hips moving slowly as you pushed back against him. "fuck so tight baby" he groaned as he sped up his movements his hips snapping against you as he let go of your wrists, reaching up to grab a handfull of your hair, he pulled your hair as he fucked into you harder, his orgasm creeping up quickly he bit his bottom lip as a loud moan left hip lips. he felt you clench around him as you moaned loudly his name falling from your lips as you release all over his cock. "f-fuck" he hisses as he spills inside you his hand wrapping around your throat as he lifts your body, his hips continuing to snap into you as he chases another orgasm. "fuck going to fill you up baby" he hisses as he continues to fuck you against his car.

You had long forgot how many times you had came, you looked up at san as you both finally come to a stop, you smiled and giggled as you allowed him to help you sit on the couch. you both turnt to each other and smiled. "can i have your number" san says laughing. "you just fucked me stupid of course you can" you laugh reaching to grab your phone and handing it to him. he put his number in, he stands up grabbing his keys, and popping the boot, grabbing a pair of his jogging pants and walking back to you, he helped you get into the pants and sat on the couch with you. you both spoke for hours, until the tiredness hit you both. Both your bodies entertwined together and sleep enveloping the pair of you.

[e-dubbc11]

LAST ANGST, I SWEAR.

"am I too late?" + "I did care, I used to care" with this hoe:

After this it'll all be sunshine and rainbows 😭😭😭

Hello my lovely friend!

Ok so I know you didn’t ask for this but the prompts you sent in finally inspired me to write a second part to another Matt fic I did called Unforgiven so I’ll leave it linked HERE.

Thank you for sending in a request for this hoe 🤣 I hope it’s ok and thank you for being a part of my follower celebration. You’re a wonderful friend and I love you to pieces.

Unforgiven Part 2

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, couple of swear words, mentions of smexy time (18+ please)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Matt had vowed to win you back after you had told him to leave. A new man is one of the obstacles in his way.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Your body temperature had immediately risen when you uttered those four words. “I don’t forgive you.” Matt could feel the heat radiating off of your body and your heart forcefully beating inside your chest. You weren’t sure you had ever been that angry, that hurt, or had your heart broken that badly.

He knew he had hurt you with his lies and secrets but in his heart, he was just protecting you, keeping you safe, and making sure that his nighttime activities weren’t spilling into his everyday life as an attorney, a friend, and a boyfriend.

Although you made it very clear to him that you didn’t want to see him anymore; he was no longer your boyfriend and he could continue to be The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen without having you as a distraction but his secret would be safe with you.

When you told him to go, you tried your best to hold it together, to not let your voice crack or have your tears fall but as soon as he disappeared that night, your tears spilled over and streaked down your cheeks as fresh sobs fled from your throat. Remembering how acute Matt’s hearing was, you knew that he had probably heard you crying while trying to keep your balance as you carefully walked over to close the window Matt had left open.

Your knees gave out just as you reached your bed, you could already feel your eyes start to swell from the tears as you buried your face into your pillow and cried yourself to sleep. You saw Matt in your dreams that night. The man with the kind hazel eyes, soft brown hair, the adorable dimple on his cheek, and red tinted glasses suddenly morphed into the masked vigilante they called The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His face was close to yours, a black leather glove caressed your cheek as he apologized over and over again for lying to you but even in your dreams you didn’t forgive him.

However, in both the waking world and the dreaming one, it broke your heart to tell him goodbye. You loved him too but some mistakes are not that easy to forgive and you wondered if you ever could forgive Matt or trust him again.

**********

Each day that had passed and you didn’t think about Matt was better than the ones where he rudely invaded your headspace but as the weeks passed, you had more good days than bad ones, and you even started seeing someone new.

But anytime The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was in the news, you wondered if Matt was ok, how many scrapes and bruises did he go home with this time, and probably the one question that had been on your mind the most…Was he seeing anyone new?

It wasn’t supposed to matter. You were seeing someone else so why shouldn’t he? Was he honest with them about his little “side job?” Why were you still thinking about him?

Finally, enough time had passed to where you barely thought about him even if the Devil was mentioned on the news. It passed quickly and you were able to go about your day without Matt lingering among your thoughts. Your relationship with your boyfriend, Nathan, was going well; you were…happy.

At least you thought you were.

And not only did the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen keep his city safe, Matt was keeping you safe also. He never stopped worrying about you walking around the city at night even though you had grown up in Hell’s Kitchen, just like he did. He followed you, listened to your phone conversations, and it broke his heart to hear you were seeing someone else.

The night you made him leave your apartment, he told himself that he didn’t care how long it was going to take because he needed you back in his life. Matt never got the chance to explain to you that no one in his life knew he was the masked vigilante, not even his closest friends.

Every time a criminal was put behind bars whether it be from following the law or breaking it, Matt thought it was one step closer to everyone he loved being safe in the city he cared so much about.

But he quickly realized that when you cut the head off of a snake, two more grow back in its place and he sometimes questioned if it was all worth it or he wrestled with his conscience about the moral obligation and that if he could help, he should help.

Matt continued to do everything he could to ensure your safety and just like every weeknight, he waited patiently for you to get home from work. Nathan had a key so he let himself in so he could wait for you too. Matt could hear your boyfriend on the phone telling the person on the other end that he was going to…propose.

Completely shocked, Matt gripped the fire escape tightly so he wouldn’t fall over. He continued to listen to Nathan’s conversation.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her after work for dinner tomorrow night. I was gonna do it then…of course I’ll let you know how it goes. Plan on being my best man…alright, yeah I’ll talk to you soon. Later.” He said.

Matt drew in a sharp breath and a frown darkened his expression as he choked out the only word he could manage to get out, “No…”

It killed him to know that someone else was the object of your affection, that Nathan made you laugh, and your pulse quickened when you saw him. It also made Matt’s blood boil knowing that Nathan was the one who was kissing you, touching you, and pulling sinful noises from you when he wanted to be the one doing those things.

Nathan said he was meeting you for dinner tomorrow night so Matt decided he would meet you first and it would be the first time that he was on time for a date.

**********

Nathan was meeting you at the same restaurant where Matt had stood you up for the final time. It felt a little strange being there again and you thought the restaurant patrons and wait staff were staring at you like last time, even though they weren’t.

As you sat at the table enjoying your wine, you were looking over the menu when the server told you that Nathan was running a little late but he would be there soon. He texted too in case the server forgot to let you know. He was always very thorough.

Continuing to stare down at the menu, you felt someone sit down across from you. Without looking up from the menu, a slight smile stretched across your lips and you said, “Thank god, I’m starving, I ordered you a glass of wine.”

A voice you hadn’t heard in a long time replied, “Well I prefer whiskey but wine will do.”

You knew that low gravelly voice anywhere. When you glanced up from your menu, Matt had a slight smirk on his face.

“Hello, angel.” He said.

Narrowing your eyes, you clenched your teeth together and replied, “Oh now you decide to show up for dinner, Matthew? What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, sweetheart.” Said Matt.

As you angrily sipped your wine, you forcefully closed your menu, and wished Matt could see how furious you were but he knew without seeing your face. He detected changes in your breathing, how your pulse quickened, he was even close enough to inhale your scent but it wasn’t your perfume.

Seeing him again brought back a flood of emotions…anger, humiliation, sadness but also you were reminded of how attractive he is, the soft sexy tone to his voice, and just the way he made you feel inside.

How could he still have this hold over you? Maybe you never really gave up that hold in the first place.

“You know you can’t just flash that dimple at me and I’ll fall at your feet, Murdock. It doesn’t work that way. Besides…I’m with someone else now.” You said, sternly.

Looking quite nervous, Matt adjusted his glasses, licked his bottom lip and finally asked, “Am I too late?”

“Matty, I just said I’m with someone else now.” You replied, immediately regretting calling him by his nickname.

It took a long time for you to become emotionally stable after Matt left. There were a lot of tears and sleepless nights and it wasn’t because you didn’t love him.

You loved Matt more than anything but he was the one person that you trusted the most and he had been lying to you from the very beginning of your relationship so how could you be sure he wouldn’t do it again?

“But he didn’t ask you yet.” Matt said assertively.

Confused, you replied, “Ask me what? And how do you know Nathan is gonna ask me something? Have you been spying on me?!!”

The tone of your voice went from confused to angry.

“You can’t marry him, sweetheart.” Said Matt in barely more than a whisper as to not draw any attention to your table.

Again, confused, you replied, “Ok first of all, I’m not marrying anyone and second, I know you know something Matt because you wouldn’t have said that, otherwise. You weren’t honest with me before so you either answer my questions truthfully NOW or get the hell outta here. Understand?”

Firmly, Matt said, “I understand, y/n.”

You started your interrogation.

“Have you been following me, Matthew?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you spy on me with your bionic hearing when I’m at home?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been listening during any…intimate moments?”

Matt’s body tensed and bit back what he wanted to say.

“Do you need me to repeat the question, counselor?” You asked.

“Only once and as soon as I heard what was going on, I left, ok?” He finally said.

You tried to stop yourself from smiling and enjoying yourself but you couldn’t.

“And in your opinion, what did you determine based on what you heard?”

A devilish smirk stretched across his lips and he leaned in closer so you could hear him better.

“That he doesn’t make you come nearly as hard as I do.”

Forcefully clenching your thighs together, you bit back a strangled moan as you remembered seeing stars each time Matt pulled an orgasm from you. He had never been selfish in bed;you would give him that.

You had to pull yourself together as you still had more questions for him.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me about your extracurricular activities?” You asked.

“I thought it would be best if you didn’t know and I could keep you out of harm’s way. I thought I could keep it separate from my regular life. No one knew about it, sweetheart…not Foggy, not Karen, no one.” Matt said.

You said, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That no one else knew? People care about you, Matt. You shouldn’t keep secrets from your friends, that’s why they’re your friends. Or from the person you love.”

“That’s why I came to you that night because I wanted to tell you first. I did care, I used to care about keeping everyone out of that life. I didn’t want anyone else to carry that secret but it kept getting harder to separate the two and I didn’t want to push anyone else away.” He said.

“You can only walk into a wall so many times before we start to question things, Matt.” You said.

He smirked again and replied, “Well I am blind, angel.”

One side of your mouth curled into a slight smile. Matt always knew how to get you to smile.

Over the past several months, you learned holding onto the anger and hurt you felt after Matt left wasn’t good for you, mentally or physically. You had to forgive him and let it go. You would never forget what he did but you could forgive him for it and understand why he did it.

“I am sorry, y/n. I tried to prevent you from getting hurt but I hurt you anyway.” Said Matt.

He turned and tilted his head slightly, listening intently at something only he could hear.

“What? What is it?” You asked.

“Your boyfriend is coming; I hear him talking to the host and yes he is going to ask you to marry him. I heard him on the phone yesterday telling someone about it.” Matt said, quickly.

There were so many thoughts overwhelming your brain. Obviously you still had feelings for Matt and they never truly went away to begin with. This was also the first time you had thought about Nathan since Matt sat down at your table and now he’s telling you about a proposal.

What were you going to do?

“All I ask sweetheart is that you really think about it. Shit, he’s coming. I gotta go. I love you.” Matt said as he grabbed his cane and walked away before you could respond.

“Who was that?” Asked Nathan.

You shrugged and replied. “I don’t know. But he’s blind and was asking for help back to his table.”

**********

You could never go back to that restaurant again after what you’ve experienced there.

The first time was when Matt had left you to sit alone waiting for him to show up but never did and the second time was telling Nathan that you couldn’t marry him.

Overstimulated was an understatement compared to what you were feeling and didn’t feel like walking home so you called an Uber. The ride home let you decompress a little which left you emotionally and physically drained. The stairs up to your apartment seemed to multiply with each step you took and all you wanted to do was take your shoes off and drink a glass of bourbon.

As soon as you opened the door, a gentle breeze pushed the curtains away from the windows and hit your cheeks as you dropped your keys into the bowl by the door.

You didn’t remember leaving the window open or leaving all of the lights off.

“Matty?” You called out, holding your can of pepper spray.

His unmistakable gravelly voice answered you.

“Hey sweetheart. You can put your pepper spray away.” He joked.

Matt removed the black hood from his face as you flicked on the lamp and he walked over to the couch to sit down.

“You wanna drink? Or are you ‘on duty?’” You asked.

Matt smirked in your direction.

“Can I just have a sip of yours?” He asked.

“Very funny, Matthew. I need a whole glass tonight so you either have your own or none. What’s it gonna be?” You asked in a semi-scolding tone.

He chuckled.

“Ok, then pour me one too, angel.” He said.

Hearing him call you “sweetheart” and “angel” again gave you butterflies like it always did to hear him say those words.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I said yes?” You asked.

Matt chuckled again.

“Well, if you had said yes, I don’t think you would be here…alone.” He said.

Matt always knew how to make you smile and frustrate you at the same time.

You grazed his fingers as you handed him his glass of whiskey. The same thick talented fingers he used tirelessly to work you into a frenzy, that had you begging him to fuck you until your vision went white and you couldn’t see straight.

Matt wasn’t wrong when he said that Nathan didn’t make you come as hard as he did. And what he didn’t know was that Nathan never did. Sure, he got the job done but it was never the way it was when you were with Matt.

Obviously, it wasn’t just about the sex. And it wasn’t that Nathan was a bad guy; he just wasn’t…Matt.

“Then you would be correct, counselor.” You said, taking a sip of your bourbon as you pulled your feet up into the chair you were sitting in.

Matt’s eyes were wide and you could hear the trace of desperation in his voice when he asked, “I want another chance, sweetheart. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“But you did, Matt! You’ve been lying to everyone!” You shouted.

Matt pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“And what would you have me do, y/n?! I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He snapped back.

“And maybe you should let me make my own decisions, Matthew.” You replied. “Everyone seems to want to make my decisions for me! Just let me choose! I know what I want.”

“And what do you want, y/n? You want to have to look over your shoulder when you walk down the street?!” Asked Matt.

“I’ve done that my whole life! All I want is YOU!” You blurted out. “It took me a long time to try and get over you and I don’t think I could do it again. I love you, Matt. I never stopped.”

Matt’s hand gripped the glass tightly and his breathing became rapid. He licked his bottom lip, searching for the words he wanted to say but you didn’t give him the chance to say anything.

All in one motion, you set your glass on the coffee table, the amber liquid moved from one side of the glass to the other and back again, and you walked from your chair, over to him. You removed the glass from Matt’s hand, set it down on the table behind you, and crawled into his lap.

His body was a warm cradle for yours as he snaked his arms around your waist and buried his face into your chest. A long exhale escaped his mouth as his warm breath hit your bare skin and your fingers tangled in his soft brown hair.

Being in his embrace again felt like you had never been apart, his fingers danced up and down your back sending restless shivers down your spine just like they had always done, and he pressed his full lips to your throat like he had a thousand times before.

“I love you too, angel.” Said Matt, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat like a necklace.

Inching your face closer to his, you brushed his stubble with your thumbs and softly planted your lips on his as your eyes closed in relief, a blur of a smile stretched across your mouth as he continued to kiss you, and his name fell from your lips over and over again.

Matt covered your mouth with his own while gently winding strands of your hair in his fingers, his tongue stroking against yours as he told you he loved you over and over again.

There was a lot of uncertainty at the moment but the one thing you were sure of was that you loved each other and you never wanted to be without him again.

One way or another you would figure it out but tonight he was yours and all was forgiven.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @chezagnes @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @k-marzolf @hellskitchens-whore @jvanilly @she-likesorchids

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure

[shitapril]

with spa, we're officially halfway through the season !

we went into the season expecting a repeat of 2023, only to have seven different race winners in the first half of the season alone.

carlos sainz jumped back from his appendicitis to become the only driver to break max verstappen's 10 race win streak not once, but twice. charles leclerc has finally broken his curse and has won at the legendary monaco circuit, but most importantly, at home. george russell brought mercedes' first win since 2022. lewis hamilton extended his record of wins at home with his ninth victory at silverstone, and is now only the second driver with more than one win. lando norris and oscar piastri are both race winners now.

but the drama started well before the season, and off the track at that, with lewis hamilton announcing his departure from mercedes to ferrari for the 2025 season. call it a domino effect, because ever since, we have found out we will not have my fav blonde-hunk duo in haas next season, my french civil war roleplayers next season, but we will have an 18-year old on the grid (i'm so old wtf) and we're just halfway through the season (jury is still out on carlos sainz though he said he's sticking to the original timetable of the driver market).

that being said, I can't even begin to explain the headlines, rumours and stories that this season has brought, i would've thought they were random machine-generated headlines if i had not seen them happen in real time.

i cannot wait for the latter half of the season to unfold, to see what the future of this sport looks like by the end of the year. in the meantime, take care of yourselves, rejuvenate for the second half of the silliest of seasons and i'll see you soon ! <3

[allbark-no-bite]

Guilty Conscience || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the guilty don’t sleep. nor do their girlfriends

warnings: mentions of death/murder

word count: 1.1k

author’s note: set in season 2. this one is one i posted on Wattpad a while back

It's late. Too late to still be awake but the muffled foot steps of Rafe's constant, on-edge pacing have managed to pry my eyes open to the darkness of his bedroom yet again. The soft tread of his bare feet makes a muffled sound against the expensive carpet, and pauses briefly every few seconds while he stands there, biting the edge of his finger nail with his other arm crossed over his chest, and then repeats the process.

He and Ward had returned mid afternoon from the Bahamas with a police escort, both looking worse for wear. I hadn't wanted him to go in the first place, but Rafe had reassured me he needed to do this for his dad, and that everything would be fine. They were supposed to get the gold and come home. Instead they came back empty handed and Rafe even more unnerved than before.

I close my eyes again, wondering how we could have possibly ended up in this situation. And whether there is a special place in hell reserved for the girlfriends of murders.

Rafe killed Sheriff Peterkins that day on the tarmac, no amount of denial is going to change that. No matter how hard I close my eyes, it isn't going to change the fact that I saw him raise the gun, his finger squeeze back on the trigger—

Thunder booms outside and my eyes fly back open. Earlier's ominous looking storm clouds that have been looming threateningly since this evening have finally come through on their promise of a summer shower. Not long after the weather sets in do I realize that Rafe's footsteps have been replaced by the patter of rain against the window pane.

The bed dips beneath me and the springs underneath groan in protest as he crawls back into bed. I shift positions as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, his chin coming to settle between the crook of my neck. Rafe lets out a long, slow breath from his nose and it sounds like it carries the weight of a thousand worries.

I hug one of his plush pillows tighter to my chest. The one that isn't holding the pillow twists the golden signet ring on his finger.

I watch the rain drops as they slide down one by one and leave blurry streaks along the foggy glass window while listening to the rush of air against my ear as he breathes unevenly, never quite falling into the rhythmic pattern of sleep.

A while later, Rafe's head lifts from the safe crevice of my shoulder and his body partially pushes away from me. The comforter rummages as we both move again, and I roll over onto my other side to face him. The dark bedroom has turned his blue eyes a pale grey, but even so I can see the haunting ghosts of doubt and anxiety filling his gaze. There are shadows of half blue moons stamped under his eyes. Sleep has not been his friend.

"I—I need you to tell me that I'm a good person," Rafe whispers, finally breaking the silence. The mattress creaks underneath his weight as he uses his forearm to prop himself up, leaning partly over me. "It doesn't matter if you mean it or not, please— I just need to hear you say it," he says, sounding so broken and unsure of himself.

The request is almost enough to send the sinner inside of me to my knees. I've watched him struggle with his own mind for months now, fighting an internal battle that I know he can't win and I can't fight for him, no matter how badly I want to.

Ward's been in his head for so long now that most days I'm just picking up the shambles of the broken son he's neglected for years. Sarah was always his golden child, there's no denying that. I know it, Rafe knows it, Sarah knows it.

"You let everyone convince you that you're some kind of heartless murder and you're not," I whisper, gazing up at him.

This I believed. Sure, Rafe was a jerk, I'd known that when I met him, but he was a jerk who could press his lips to my neck, teeth grazing my skin and whisper that he loved me; even when he wasn't sure if he was capable of anything else.

My hand finds his cheek and brushes some of the blonde hair away from his eyes. There's a bruise there that I don't remember him having and a part of me wonders what really happened in the Bahamas.

A painful, miserable looking smile finds its way onto his face, and just once, he laughs into the darkness of his bedroom. "No. I'm just the regular kind of murder."

The soft, hopeful expression falters from my own face and I sigh, letting my forehead fall against his with my eyes closed.

It was hard, sometimes too hard, to admit that he wasn't wrong. Which of course always lead to a reinvestigation of my own conscience and why I was doing this. Why would I lie by omission, never think to say any different when Ward and Rafe gave their statements to the police, faking his innocence. My answer to this question, I find is always the same; because I loved him and I was afraid of what Ward would put him through if I left. He's told Rafe that he would never pick between his children, but I've seen him lie to Rafe enough times to know it was just something he said to cover his tracks.

Ward had done this to him, forced Rafe into lying and thinking that what he was doing was being loyal and helping his family, because he knew that all Rafe ever wanted was for his dad to look at him the same way he looked at Sarah. It was never about trying to protect himself or getting revenge. 

Rafe clings to me, falling into a more relaxed position as he settles himself on top of me. His body is warm and comfortingly heavy a top my chest. My finger tips gently scratch his scalp, something that's seemed to calm him in the past. After a while I wonder if he's fallen asleep, but then the soft tone of his voice speaks.

"When this is all over, I'm going to be better," he promises, speaking into the blue fabric of the borrowed cotton shirt that I'm wearing. His lips press to my collarbone in a subdued kiss and Rafe looks up at me. There's a firmness in his voice, like he's trying to be strong. "I'm gonna man up and get right."

Man up, I think. Yeah sure.

My palm cups his chin, my thumb caressing the bruise on his jaw. I don't say anything, just smile sadly at him and he returns the same type of half-hearted expression. My throat clenches. We both know that it's a weak promise.

"You're in too deep this time, you know that?" I'm fighting my own voice at this point. Incredibly, it doesn't break.

"I know, I know."

[firapolemos05]

The Art of Sculpting

My piece for this year's @zineofgid . Hope everyone has a happy new year!

CW: slavery, pet whump, noncon touching (not sexual), dehumanization, lady whumpers, sadistic whumper, nonhuman whumpee, magical whump, tooth pulling, forced stripping, belting, restraints, sadistic use of chili oil, mentioned forced fighting, past whipping

Champion taglist: @thewhumpywitch , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

Champion.

That's what they're calling him now. 

The coveted title now his, just as Master Scarlet wanted. Another gilded symbol of glory for her to brag about. But only her.

Slaves were not permitted glory.

He'd gotten himself beaten bloody, defeating the previous titleholder, with no reward except an extra meal he struggled to stomach. His body was still sore, aches and strains making themselves at home in his muscles, bruises dotting his dark gray skin. At least the throbbing in his ankle had gone down. An unfortunate misstep during the fight tore a ligament.

His opponent had been left worse for wear, being dragged from the ring with broken fingers and a concussion (the stone floor cracked when he slammed their head into it). He refused to watch the aftermath, when the whip made them pay for their loss in blood and screams.

Didn't matter if they had a title or not. They were all prisoners. The whip hurt all the same.

“I asked you a question, pet.”

The voice's scolding tone jolted him back to the present, out of his reverie. The cold marble under his knees. The two women lounging on cushioned benches before him, a table topped with refreshments the tiefling wasn't allowed to touch. One woman with long blonde hair, lips painted blue. A stranger. The other a statue of crimson. Red hair, red eyes, and a taste for his blood. His captor. A frown directed at him.

“What did you say?” he asked, then quickly added, “M-master? I didn't hear you.”

‘Stop drifting off! You know she doesn't like to repeat herself.’

‘If this conversation were less boring, that'd be easier.’

He was lucky enough to catch her in one of her better moods. “Quite an exhilarating final match, was it not? Tell me, did you enjoy it, pet?”

Pet. Pet. Pet.

‘My name is Itzal.’

(How long has it been since someone called him by name? It's becoming a conscious effort to remember.)

“It was. . . exciting, Master.” There was no speaking ill of the fights. No complaining. Scarlet would know he was lying, but that didn't matter for this. His real opinion didn't matter and would only earn him a humiliating spanking. 

“It was a thrilling show, I was on the edge of my seat!” the other woman agreed. The Champion, Itzal, didn't recall her name. Isidora? Isotta? “I was sure he was going to lose when that half-orc hurt his leg but what a turnaround. You've got him trained so well, Lady Matar.”

Months ago, Itzal would've snapped at her for talking about him like that. He wasn't a fucking dog. Some feral animal to be beaten into submission.

He's a different person than he was months ago.

“I made sure he was well prepared for the ring when I first entered him. I know many of the other Society members like to keep their slaves untrained in combat, but I play to win.” Scarlet took a long sip of her wine. “Nowadays, we're working on his house manners. Required etiquette with guests. Such as paying attention when his betters are speaking.”

He flinched at the jab.

“And proper posture, stop slouching.”

He straightened his back, biting back a comment. The hard floor was not helping his injured ankle, nor his knees for that matter.

Isidora(?) marveled. “So obedient.”

‘Don't say anything. Don't make them mad.’

“He's getting better. Still a rebellious streak in him, though a far cry from how he acted before his first lashing at the ring a few months ago.”

Mouth shut, body still.

Itzal held his tongue, clenching his fists around the chain connecting them behind his back. He tried to ignore the phantom sensations of the whip ripping flesh. All he'd done was speak without permission.

“He has a little biting problem as well so I've been muzzle training him.”

“Biting? How uncouth. I hope he hasn't hurt you at all.”

(If only it was that easy.)

“Oh no, of course not,” Scarlet assured. “Just a handful of servants. It will be corrected with time.”

Isidora chuckled lightly. “Yes, I do recall you mentioning you preferred the defiant ones. My lovely finch hasn't given me any trouble like that.”

“He is a pretty little bird. The submissive ones have their appeals, but I have always enjoyed a challenge.”

Itzal could only assume the women were discussing some poor aarakocra and not an actual pet bird. They always did that. Talked about their captives as if they were simple animals and not fully sentient people.

Animals did not have rights.

The urge to tell them off was getting harder and harder to ignore. But as much as he wanted to open his mouth, that would only invite punishment, and Scarlet tended to be especially harsh with an audience. It wouldn't be worth it.

It wouldn't be worth it.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind.

Mouth shut, body still.

Slaves did not speak without permission. 

The way Isidora stared at him sent his gut twisting. Moving away or shrinking back were not available options at the moment. Body still. Body still. All Itzal could do to avoid it was not meet her gaze. “He truly is an alluring specimen. Let me see your eyes, Champion.”

He ignored her, against his better judgment. Her tone of voice didn't sit well, the hunger in the word ‘alluring’. He didn't want to look at her gawk. Didn't want to watch her inspect him like some fancy vase at a pottery market.

“Obey, pet,” his master warned (oh how he hated calling her that).

‘Just listen, damnit!’

He should listen. It wasn’t even anything too difficult. Just had to raise his head. It wasn't like he'd been ordered to kiss the polished leather of her boots. He could even focus somewhere that wasn't the woman's face. Her oversized, gaudy necklace perhaps. Just as long as she got what she wanted. What was with her sudden interest anyway? Did she-

“Hey! I gave you an order!” Isidora rose from her chair, indignance flaring. Her gloved hand clamped onto the tiefling's horn, wrenching his head to face her.

Some string within Itzal had been pulling taut throughout this entire meeting. Now it snapped. 

Isidora could certainly see his eyes now. Solid red burning with hatred.

She didn't act quick enough. He didn't regain control of himself quick enough. She was no fighter. Those dainty hands never worked a day in their lives. It was too easy. His teeth sunk into the soft meat of her forearm and suddenly all he felt was pain. 

A shrieking drill bored into his head and his mind was screaming. Was some of that his own cries of agony? Maybe, he could never tell over the white hot burn of what felt like his brain getting fried by a bolt of lightning. A broken rule. The slap that sent him sprawling to the floor paled in comparison. 

Itzal pressed his forehead to the cold tiles, the taste of blood yet to register on his tongue. It would pass. The pain would fade out. It was a minute of his head bursting under whatever spell Scarlet kept on him, but just that. A minute. Temporary.

“-brutish little mutt bit me!”

“I gave you a very clear warning, Isaura. Do you make a habit of manhandling every animal you've been told may bite?”

Something warm was trickling out of Itzal's nose. When his vision stopped scattering with black dots, he noticed red spots on the floor below his face.

“It’s a small puncture. With proper cleaning, it'll heal on its own. Won't even scar.”

“Oh gods, it's bleeding! I'm going to get rabies!”

“Don't be dramatic, you're fine. Do you honestly think I'd have him up here if he were rabid?”

Isaura’s (‘oh, that was her name.’) shrill voice pierced through the ringing in Itzal’s ears. She was so red in the face it looked like she'd been standing in the sun too long. It was strange to hear Scarlet take that chastising edge with anyone other than him. 

Not that he was complaining. 

Until that gaze turned on him and ice froze in his veins.

“Apologize.” It was not a request.

‘Do as she says. The punishment will be worse if you don't,’ that little voice in his mind pleaded. It was right. Rage was not something Scarlet displayed often. Annoyance, yes. Frustration, yes. But never the piercing cold fury Itzal sees in her eyes now. Her calm composure made it all the more terrifying. 

Yet his tongue was lead in his mouth. Set still by his own anger, his refusal to break and let himself be treated like this. He would not be sorry for defending himself against unwarranted touch. The only chance he's been able to.

So he said nothing. 

Until a flick of Scarlet's wrist summoned an item to her hand while the other wrapped around his throat. 

-

Seemed like today would become a learning experience for two.

The pliers made the work quick, a twist and pull, and the tooth came free. Tipped with blood and the echoes of her pet's cries. He crumpled when she released him, curling in on himself. Scarlet beholds the fang and turns to her guest.

Had the situation been different, and this little mess not a result of Isaura’s ill-advised stunt, she may have offered the tooth to her as a token of acquaintance. A souvenir for the visit.

She dropped it into a small glass to clean later, and whisked the pliers back to their pocket dimension.

“You're really…keeping that?” Isaura balked with unmasked distaste. 

Scarlet scoffed. The woman was so shameless with her inexperience. Her pet had been an inheritance, given to her already submissive and pliant. Of course she knew nothing of how to properly break one. “Do you take issue with my methods of discipline?”

As expected, she fumbled to remedy the perceived offense. “N-no, of course not, Lady Matar! I just-”

Scarlet interrupted her with a snap of fingers and the guard that'd been standing by approached. She gestured to where her little slave lay panting on the floor and summoned a belt to hand over.

“Tie him down. Thirty strokes.”

The tiefling's head jerked up, eyes wide, chin coated in blood. His gaze caught the belt.

“No.” He made a futile attempt to flee but didn't manage even two steps before the guard took firm hold of his bound arms. His protests continued as he was dragged writhing to the table set aside for this purpose. “Fuck, let go!” he tried to yell, but the words didn't form right around the throbbing in his mouth. 

“Watch closely, Isaura,” Scarlet spoke to the other woman. “This is how feral slaves are handled. Had your little finch not been already broken, this is how you would've been expected to train him.”

The ropes held up to her pet's struggles. They didn't let up as he bucked, kept him bent over, knees and tail tied to the table legs to stop any kicking.

He only paused his escape attempt when the guard ripped open the fabric of his pants, tossing the ruined garment away. She had a clear view of the flinch that shook his body, ears flattening, cheeks darkening with the indignance of being so exposed. 

“Pain can be an effective teacher, but for the more willful slaves, humiliation is often a suitable punishment in itself.”

And before he could brace himself, the belt buckle slapped across his bare backside.

Spanking had proved an effective method the first time she used it on him. Whomever his former guardians were, they'd been soft, never once raising a hand to him in such a manner. Quite irresponsible. 

It only took five strikes to make him lose the fight against screaming. Twelve for his swearing to turn into incoherent pleas for mercy. Eighteen for him to begin crying out apologies. But his master ordered for thirty strikes, so thirty he would get. The ropes did not give under his struggles, did not hear his pained whimpers. His rear and thighs become a canvas of crisscrossing angry welts. Some have broken skin and send rivulets of blood dripping down.

The guard furled the belt back up once it was done, handing it back to the master. After unfastening the ropes, unbothered by the slave's whines, he returned to his post. 

“This seems rather…messy, doesn't it?” Isaura commented, grimacing at the splatter on the tile with enough disgust to make Scarlet almost roll her eyes. Not bothering with a reply, a wave of a hand with the barest amount of magic restored the floor to pristine. 

If she thought this was messy, then she certainly couldn't stay for the rest of what was in store. The Matar estate is no place for the squeamish. 

“Look at it this way, Isaura. An untrained slave is like a lump of clay. Lacking structure and grace.” Scarlet grabbed her pet by his horns, just as the other woman had done earlier. This time he yelped as the movement made his pain spike, as his master pulled him upright. His tail curled around his waist to spare his modesty. “And like with clay, they require a skilled hand to sculpt them into something worthwhile. A firm hand to correct any imperfections.” With a slight shove, she let the slave fall before her guest.

The tiefling dropped hard, his knees hitting the floor with a thud and a sharp grunt. He hunched over, blinking back tears, body trembling with effort not to sit and put pressure on his wounds.

“Let's try this again,” Scarlet declared, nudging the toe of her boot into a welt on her pet's thigh. He choked on a wail and jolted forward until his forehead hit the tile. She did not need to say more, he should know what's expected of him now.

“I'm…s-sorry, madam.”

Good. He managed even with his mouth swollen.

“Sculpting is messy, lots of excess to trim off, lots of undesirable behaviors to train out. A true masterpiece requires time and effort.”

“I see now.” Isaura gave her hostess a respectful curtsy. “Thank you for showing me this, Lady Matar. I apologize for my unsightly behavior before. I realize I have much to learn.”

Scarlet smiled, putting on the mask of a patient instructor. “Indeed. But that is what us senior members of the Society are here for, to teach.” She gestured over to one of her servants, a quick order to fetch her guest's coat and hat. “Well this has been an eventful visit but I do need to continue some work. I'm sure you have other affairs to attend to.”

Isaura knew well enough to recognize her cue to leave. “Ah, of course. Thank you for having me.”

“Next time, I must insist you bring your little finch with you. I'd love to see him perform.” And it would do good for her pet to be made to compete. Promise punishment if he didn't behave just as well as the broken little bird.

The guard escorted Isaura out.

The little slave had found that lying on his side did not aggravate his wounds. Until Scarlet ground her foot into his tailbone.

“Sit up.”

He's letting his fear slip far more easily now. It's becoming easier to reduce him to tears. “But-”

She gathered the ropes. “Did I say you could talk? Isaura is a woman of delicate sensibilities. She wouldn't have been able to stomach this next part. Did you think we were done here?” She wrangled him back onto his knees, pinning his head down to force his back to arch. Then she tied his knees to his elbows.

Punishment is one thing. Making sure the lesson sticks is another matter entirely.

Scarlet addresses the servant, “bring me some chili oil.”

He was clever. She could see it in his eyes when he connected the dots. “N-no. No no wait! I'm sorry Master!”

“You will be soon enough. We're going to make sure your little stunt tonight never happens again.” The servant set down the jar and a basting brush on the table Scarlet stood beside. They were dismissed. 

“It won't! It won't!” He tried to crawl away, tried to roll onto his back to protect himself, but a tight grip on his tail halted the attempt. Kept his backside raised for easy access. “I won't do it again! Please!”

The spicy bite of the oil was already filling Scarlet's nose. “You certainly won't, if you wish to prevent this punishment in the future. Tonight however, you will take what you deserve like a good little slave.” She took the brush and soaked its bristles in the dark red liquid.

The oil seared into the tiefling's torn skin and his shrieks ripped through every room of the manor.

-

It was days before Itzal was able to sit again without his eyes watering. Over a week before the pain faded in full. That pain had been replaced with an ache in his neck, a soreness in his scalp, a sting in his cheeks. 

Master Scarlet got him well acquainted with having his horns jerked, his hair yanked, his ears pinched between sharp nails. She struck him if he so much as made an expression she didn't approve of, to the point Itzal feared he'd have permanent handprint-shaped bruises on his face. It got more difficult when she moved on to his tail.

Sculpting, she called it.

Trimming off the imperfections. Beating out undesired behavior.

His dreams brought him to a body that wasn't his. Cold and caged by red velvet museum ropes and its own immobility. Cold and unmoving like hardened clay. Onlookers who ogled with eyes too big and smiles too wide. Uncanny. Uncaring.

A week later, Master Scarlet brought him with her to a dinner party and those faces became reality. Everyone seemed to want a closer look at the new Champion. 

Itzal didn't dare resist.

[thevanillerose]

SCORCHED | YANDERE!TODOROKI x READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Stumbling. Collapsing. Staggering.

You were like a broken marionette, desperately scrambling to free yourself from the gargantuan flaming pyre which had once been your apartment building.

The events leading up to this moment were as hazy as the acrid fog of blackened smoke that hovered around you. Questions swirled like embers in the wind.  

Who lay at the root of all of this? Even you yourself would have struggled to believe it.

Todoroki. Todoroki Shoto. He was a boy of extremes you could say, but well enough liked by the students of U.A. High School. You had certainly liked him a lot, seeing past his cold, aloof nature, and always assuming there was something more that lay beneath it.  

In the end, you were right to feel that way. He really was a very complex guy.

In fact...he was far more complex than you had ever imagined.

Forget his past. Forget what he had gone through, and what he so often kept sealed away inside of himself. Forget his left side, and the history behind it.

For you...you were what truly became his vulnerability. Despite his best efforts, he simply couldn't resist you.  

Face. Voice. Manner. Was it possible for so many things about a single human being to be so flawless? Every time he laid eyes upon you, he yearned for you to be beside him.  

There was just one very big problem, besides his often unapproachable manner. A thorn in his side that was just determined to stick, and even more bitterly, was a 'friend'.

Midoriya asked you out. Midoriya.

 That wide-eyed fool who was less of a man and more of a child. Someone who wept and sniffled the moment anything got tragic, and yet he pretended to be tough. That was what Todoroki saw at least. A pathetic farce, put on to win your affections.

 The worst part? It had actually worked. When Todoroki initially heard that the green-haired imbecile had asked you out, he made the assumption that you would probably say no to him. No, he actually assumed it was definite. Yet...to his complete and utter surprise, you said yes.  

 Just like that, his chances had been shattered. True, Todoroki had never so much as revealed a centimeter of his feelings for you, but he always felt like you would wait until he was ready. When the time was right, you'd finally be together. So why...why would you do this?

 Why!? How could you!?

 It drove him mad trying to figure it out, and in the end...he snapped.

 It was a simple way to put it, but it also summed it up aptly. The last of his sanity slipped away thanks to a singular trigger, and of course, Midoriya was the one at the root of it.

 Was it creepy that the dual-haired boy was creeping outside the window of your apartment like some sort of red streaked spider? Yeah. Maybe. Was it bizarre that he chose to observe you both silently through the glass, ducking away whenever you happened to turn your heads? Sure.

 Still, in his messed up mind it was a necessity. How else, after all, was he supposed to keep a close eye on you and make sure things never went past hand-holding with this bastard?

 How else was he supposed to...scope things out?

 “Thanks for spending time with me today. I had a lot of fun, even if we just watched some movies.” you reached out and gave Midoriya's bouncy emerald hair a nice big ruffle. It was a habit you'd picked up, and it always made him blush. Whenever you saw his cheeks redden, you only fell that little bit more in love with him.

 “Yeah it was fun! Thanks, [Y/N].”

 Sure, at the start you had been in two minds. You still felt something for Todoroki, and that hadn't changed even now. Yet Midoriya had proven to just be the right one for you. He was so much kinder and funnier than you had ever imagined in the first place, and you could always feel your spirits lifting when you were around him.

 Simply put, things had changed. You'd fallen in love with him, and in turn, your attachment to Todoroki had swiftly faded.

 Yet as your affections drifted out of sight, something lit up within the darkness.

 Everything was fine up until that point. Initially you and Midoriya were happily relaxing on the plush carpet in your bedroom, eating some snacks and finishing off the final movie you were marathoning for the night. It was so nice to just spend some casual time with him outside of classes and all of that fighting too.  

 Neither of you were aware of what was about to happen when you kissed each other and said goodbye for the night. It never occurred to you even once that, as you stood there in the open doorway and watched him go down the corridor to the elevator, this would be the very last time you ever saw him. When you laid down to take a nap, you happily imagined him toddling away home, probably to dream about you too.  

 It was what you believed. So it seemed to be just right.

 That was not reality though.

 In reality, his charred cadaver was left jammed halfway through the doors, keeping the elevator from descending. Todoroki made sure to leave him there, so that not even in death he'd find any peace. After all, it had to be pretty bothersome, being repeatedly chewed on by a lift.

 Then there was the stairwell. Blocking the door was a given. Windows weren't much of an option anyway.

 Todoroki figured, that the only way to truly expel the rage he felt after watching you two kiss one another, was to burn this whole damn building to the ground. That included all the people inside of it, so he'd ensured that all the exits were turned to ash first and foremost.

 This was his revenge. If other people got caught up in it, that wasn't his problem. If you got caught up in it...well...

 He'd just have to make damn well sure that didn't happen. Everything would fall into place, he was certain.

 The only pity was that when the apartment building went up in amber and red, you had no means of seeing Midoriya's body. Todoroki had kind of been hoping you'd come across it first before realizing you were trapped, and that your sorrow would only increase grandly because of it. Alas...

 Instead, you couldn't even leave your own room. Everything caught fire so fast that you couldn't even touch your door handle, instead recoiling as the burning heat stung you.  

 “Shit! I can't believe this is happening!”

 You'd woken up to the sound of a blaring alarm, then nothing but the crackling of fire and the billowing sound of smoke as that too had ended up being melted and ultimately destroyed. The devastation was immeasurable, but you couldn't even pity others when you were literally on the verge of dying yourself.

 Climbing up onto your bed, you pressed your back firmly into the corner of the wall and huddled up desperately. You continued to hold yourself, blocking everything out, and thinking only of Midoriya.

Midoriya...Midoriya help me! Save me! Please!!

 “M...Midoriya...Midoriya help me...help me...” you even stuttered out, expecting no answer.

 Yet...you got one.

 “'Midoriya, ohh Midoriya, help me!'...Get a hold of yourself, [Y/N].”

 A taunting imitation. Slowly, you pulled your face out from behind your knees, raising your tear-stained visage so you could look up.

 “Seriously. You aren't calling anyone, and you're hiding on top of a wooden bed with flammable fabric, not even bothering to get any oxygen. Fire safety 101. Are you insane?”

 His voice didn't seem real, nor did his face. You were near delirious, not just with the smoke, but with the shock of it all. He was a blur of red, white and blue.

 “You're lucky I came by when I did...you're especially lucky that you're not already dead.”

 Todoroki gazed down at you, standing on the bed and staring right into the corner where you sat. It really was a miracle in some ways, though he had of course never intended to let you fry up like the rest of these pointless people. No...you were the only one among them who he would save. Firefighters didn't get to be choosy, but he did.

 You were the only one who was worth anything to him now.

 Plus things had worked out sweetly enough. You may not have seen Midoriya reduced to a lump of coal, but he could weave his absence into this faux storyline he was creating nonetheless.  

 “If only Midoriya had actually come. With all that begging, and knowing you were here, I wonder why he didn't...”

 Todoroki trailed off for a moment, and slowly, creepily, tilted his head to the side. His eyes went a little wider, pupils shrinking. The fire raged on in the hallway, creating an ambient crackling.

 “I mean, he should have, if he truly loved you, right? Maybe he didn't though. Maybe he just wanted you out of the way so he could find someone else--”

 “That's not true! You must have--” you managed to blurt out, trying to push him back. You barely graced his ankle before your body sank back against the corner again, eyes fluttering and showing the whites. Todoroki dropped to a crouch before you, remaining on his haunches and eyeing you up and down with an ever calm expression.

 “...You must have...done this...”

 Todoroki merely tutted. Of course you jumped to conclusions, but that wasn't an issue for him. He'd deal with those assumptions in due course...once this little introduction to your new life together was concluded.

 It would end in one of two ways. Either you'd willingly go with him, and he'd save you. Or, you'd push yourself away, try to get out or find your beloved, and he'd still do the same.  

 After all, he'd gone to the effort of making sure you had nowhere to go, nothing else, nobody to turn to, and no other choices. All of it had gone up in flames, and you were all that remained in this former haven, a place you'd so lovingly shared with Midoriya every evening. It would be a shame not to salvage you...

 “It's not going to be long before the flames burn down your door. You're already on the verge of passing out, do you really think you can survive for much longer?”

 Truly, your vision was blotted. You sank lower and lower, feeling like you might keel over and fall off the bed entirely, until it actually happened.

 The sheets slipped away, your carpet saying hello instead. But your hand shot out to stop the fall at the last second, nails digging desperately into the fibers.

I wake up to my entire apartment building on fire...and the only person who shows up, is Todoroki.

That's not a good coincidence.

 Adrenaline surged through your body all of a sudden, and you thrust yourself up off the ground, making a straight beeline for the door. Todoroki's power would match perfectly with what had happened here, and you didn't want to stick around for what else he had planned. Why he had it planned in the first place, you didn't know. You just knew that you had to get away from him.

 “[Y/N]! You're going to die if you go out there!”

 You only believed him once you actually did. Ignoring the searing pain in your hand after opening the handle, you burst out into the corridor, which was a mess of tumbling charred wood and spitting flames. Gagging on the strong stench of pure smoke, you had to push yourself onwards.

Todoroki has changed sides, and he's coming after all his friends! Right!? That explains everything, doesn't it!?

 Why else? Yes indeed...the thought that it might have stemmed from jealousy never occurred to you. It seemed too far-fetched, since your love for him had always seemed so one-sided.

 Whether this fire had been deliberate or not, you had to get out of here regardless. You only hoped that Midoriya was okay. That he'd escaped from here in time. When had this even started happening!? As soon as you'd fallen asleep!?

 Maybe it had only been a short time. Maybe he was still in this tall building somewhere!

 “MIDORI--AH!” you cried out, or tried to at least. Yet your own choke cut yourself off, and that seemed to be the final gasp of energy within you. Your legs truly caved then, the burning floor rushing to slam against your spine as you fell backwards.

 Before you could collapse though, a pair of hands met your back and lifted you up. Up and up, saving you from the roaring rage that sought to consume you along with everyone and everything else. It was almost like you were ascending somewhere, being spirited away.

 That was when your face met his firm chest, his arms wrapping around you fully. Todoroki held you tightly to him, as if determined to never let you go. And by all means, he was.

 Todoroki 'saved you', never once revealing that it was he who was responsible for laying the embers in the first place.  

 This was to be your 'fresh start'. He'd disinfected the wound in your life, the horrible gash that not just Midoriya, but all those around you had left. Torching this entire complex had rid the world of many people who knew you, many people who were especially close to you.

 People who no longer served any purpose in Todoroki's opinion. Not when he was here for you instead now.

 Finally, the love between you could flourish...

 …

 Time passed...and you never went back to your old home.

 Instead, after allowing you to stay with him, Todoroki became your new roommate, your new neighbor...and your new lover.

 Going along with the notion that the apartment block had been destroyed by some kind of boiler malfunction, you started to become convinced. You started to believe, even when initially he seemed like the prime suspect. You started to blame Midoriya, assuming that he really had abandoned you and everyone else, since of course there was no trace of his body now.

 “It's like I said, [Y/N]. He didn't want to risk his own skin to save you. That's how much he really cared.”

Yes. He's absolutely right. You never did care...did you, Midoriya?

 In time, thoughts of the green-haired boy faded, and they were replaced with those of the one who had now become your lover. His scarred face, his white and scarlet locks, the slight smirks he would give you now and then. This was the person who you began to recognize as your one, true love.

 When he kissed you, it felt right.

 When he hugged you, it felt even better.

 When you connected intimately, his voice in your ear, hands on your body...he made you forget all about your former lover.

 To think. At one point in time you had assumed he was the one who had caused that disaster. Now though...you could no longer suspect him as a villain. Never.

 No...not Todoroki.

Because you loved him.  

You loved him. 

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS! [UNTIL 29/09/24, GET 20% OFF!]

[jonquilyst]

Day 10 - Challenge Day

Do you remember our horse challenge from last season? Well, not one, but two horses are returning to the show to represent our western movie genre-themed challenge! This time, we've brought in Rocky on the left and Lady on the right. And, you guessed it! They're both untrained and as aggressive as Justice was last season!

In today's challenge, contestants from each team will be randomly paired up to ride the horses around the barrels until a barrel is knocked down. Their task is to not be the one who knocks down a barrel. Those who succeed will win the match-up and score a point for the team! The team who scores the most points (aka knocks down the least amount of barrels) will win invincibility!

Each team will be riding the same horse, (Rocky will be representing the Renowned Big-Names, while Lady will be the horse of the Illustrious Star-Shines!) and since the teams are even, everyone is participating today!

Our first match is Hans (IS) vs Liana! (RB) Liana had some trouble riding the horse at first, but it's hard to ride a horse in a dress so I don't blame her! Hans on the other hand is determined to win.

These two rode for a long time without knocking over any barrels, but in the end it was Hans whose horse made a misstep and knocked over the barrel! Liana looks pretty proud to be the winner, since Hans went into the match-up pretty confident. She scores a point for the Renowned Big-Names!

Next we have Flo (IS) vs. Toni (RB). Sadly, she fails in preventing the barrel from being knocked over, giving the win to Flo.

Our third match-up is Willabelle (RB) vs. Drew (IS)! The same fate occurred to Willabelle and her barrel is the one that gets knocked over, giving Drew the Star-Shine's second point.

But things take a turn when Paulina (RB) and Takashi (IS) take their turn. Takashi is the one to knock over the barrel, giving Paulina the point and resulting in the teams being tied for points!

It's down to just Coffee (IS) and Neal (RB) now. Their teams depend on them! Both of them gave it their all, but in the end Neal was the one to knock down the barrel, meaning that Coffee has broken the tie and secured victory for her team!

THE ILLUSTRIOUS STAR-SHINES WIN!

It's now the Star-Shine's turn to enjoy a winning streak! Everyone on the team is safe. I'll be seeing the Big-Names again at the auditorium, and let me tell you this: it will not be a normal elimination... Stay tuned!

Today's Confessional: Coffee Bean

"Wow... I can't believe I actually won for my entire team. I was... under a lot of pressure. I didn't like being the last out of everyone! It was so nerve-wracking... It felt like forever... I'm just glad it's finally over now."

@ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @bloomingkyras @akitasimblr @simsinfinitylt @riverofjazzsims

@witheringscreations @cowplant-ate-my-sim @stargazer-sims @invisiblequeen @nakasumi-sims

[dickmedowndc]

Animal Crackers - Garfield Logan x Reader

Word Count: 1,084

Summary: Garfield, for everything else he was, was also hilarious. Or at the very least you thought so – even if others might argue that point with you. And he had created a special game for when you were upset. Whenever you were having a rough day, you could pick out a pack of animal crackers, whatever kinds you had in the house, and he would try his best to guess which one you had by shifting into the animal. If he was right then he got the cracker, if he was wrong then you got it and a little kiss to accompany it. The game would go on with increasing antics until he was satisfied that your mood had been lifted.

…★…

Gar was peaking around the corner of the living room, where you sat curled up beside a window and staring outside. You had been like this for the better part of two hours, and it was beginning to worry him. Especially since you had not even acknowledged him with more than a nod of the head and a small smile when he got home. 

He bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment, peaking over to the kitchen cabinet where he kept a stock of animal crackers. Stepping back from view, he turned into a chipmunk, scurrying out of your sight across the floor if you had looked over – though when he reached the counter it didn’t seem like you had so much as twitched your head. More sure of his decision, Garfield pushed the cabinet door open and grabbed the first bag of crackers that he saw. With the same quick scurry, Garfield charged back across the room, bag sliding against the floor while he dragged it along with his mouth. 

The odd sound of the bag caught your attention, and you finally turned to look at him with a confused expression as he clambered onto the couch, pushing the snack towards you and waiting patiently. 

“It’s so hard to take you seriously when you look like this.” You grab the bag, watching as he shifts back into a human with a silly grin. 

“I know, but you love it.” 

You roll your eyes, the ghost of a smile on your lips as you open the bag. You reach in blindly, pulling up the first cracker you touch, careful to keep it out of his sight. “Alright, take your guess.” you tell him as you glance at the animal in your hand. 

“Tiger.” No hesitation in his answer, he sees you crack another small smile before it fades. 

“You always pick that first.” 

“And I’ve been right before.” He reminded you, waiting for you to reveal your hand. 

“And this is not one of those times,” you say, showing him the zebra animal cracker in your hand. “Which means this one is mine.” 

“And so is this.” Garfield says, waiting for you to toss the cracker into your mouth before he places both hands on either side of your face and moves closer to smack an over dramatic kiss onto your forehead. “Round one goes to you.” 

“And round two?” You wonder aloud, pulling another cracker from the small snack bag. The cracker is broken in half, so you stare quizzically for a moment before realizing what it is supposed to be.  

“A hippo?” 

“Well,” you start as you hold it out to him, “it’s half a hippo.” 

“And my winning streak begins,” Gar exclaims, opening his mouth and waiting for you to try and throw the cracker inside. 

You indulge him in his antics, making a show of winding up to throw the broken hippo cracker into his mouth – a countdown, the arm movements. You can see Garfield start to crack himself up from how long he has held his position, and it brings a smile to your face as well before you toss the cracker into his mouth. 

When he finally straightens back up and sees that you have begun to smile, he lights up. “I think that’s a new record for me.” 

You cock your head to the side, feeling the edges of the grin falter for a moment before you assure him that it is certainly helping. 

“Then a tiebreaker, how about that?” 

“Until you lose and then we go another 6 rounds so you get the wins that you want.” You chime, popping a cracker into your mouth as is. Glancing down into the bag you pull out another animal cracker, hoping that Garfield does not catch the glint in your eye. 

He does, a dead giveaway for the animal you have found. 

You hold out your closed fist to him, waiting for his choice. 

He hems and haws, standing to his feet and pacing, acting as though he is in deep thought. He stares over at you, brows drawn together in mock thought before he lets himself fall to the floor as he changes forms. On the ground, curled in a half-moon, Garfield stares up at you as a tiger, lounging on his back in a sunspot. He lets out a chuff, seeming to open his front paws in an invitation for you to join him. 

It’s too tempting, and you hand over the tiger animal cracker, which he happily licks away from you. You make a face, grumbling at the feeling of being licked before you join him on the floor. The afternoon sun has already started to warm his belly fur, and when you drape yourself over top of him, he seems to curl around you. You run your fingers through the soft fur of his chest, feeling your eyes growing heavy already. “I’ve got to say, this is always a plus to dating you.” 

You can feel the way the rumble builds up in his chest as he goes to speak, hearing the changes it makes to his voice. “As long as I can get you to smile, I’ll take it. Plus, sleeping in a sun patch as a tiger is hard to beat.” 

You hum in response, burying your face further into his warmed fur. You can hear his heartbeat as well, and it’s working to lull you to sleep. “It’s hard to stay upset with you around.” 

“We can talk about it later, when you’re ready, if you want.” Gar suggests, his own eyes closing as he feels sleep creeping in. 

“Mmm, after we wake up and eat. How about that?” 

“Whatever you need. But I’m eating the rest of those crackers.” 

You smack half-heartedly at his chest with a snort. “We’ll split them. Now hush and go to sleep.” 

Garfield says nothing else, listening as your breathing begins to even out and you start to drift off to sleep. He can feel the way that your body goes limp against him, the way your breath fans out across his fur. It’s comforting knowing you feel better for the moment. If you wake up before him then he’ll get up too, otherwise, he is content to let you sleep for as long as you need. Already planning to order out for dinner so he can spend more time alongside you. Satisfied for now, he begins to fall asleep as well.