#this is in fact coherent and very good……….

[tonycries]

Like a Dog!

Synopsis. Jealous? How cute. He’s yours - and he’ll fúck you until you won’t forget it.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, jealousy s, marathons, NÉEDY BOYS, dúmbifícation, proposals, creampíes, praise, GOJO’S POWERS, márking, they’re YOURS, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s tattoos, cervíx kíssing, fitting it, talking you through it, p slápping, p talking, ex-husband!Toji, spítting, comfort, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Wedding vows!

“Soooo…” Toji’s sneaking long, languid drags of his fat thumb up and down your sappy folds. And it makes your breath hitch, your thighs quivering just in time for him to sidle two staggering palms underneath and stretch. Wide open. “-still...jealous, doll?”

Ruining you for what seemed like copious hours upon hours non-stop, that very same question left Toji’s scarred lips in cloudy little pants like a smug mantra. 

The bed was recklessly creaky at this point, splinters cracking with every sloppy pound that had your sanity doing much the same. 

And Toji’s crushing you against the clammy mounds of his Herculean pecs, heaving. Gasping. So, so needy that just about all you can do at this point is bumble out an embarrassed little, “Wh-why?”

“Because m’yours, mama.” Whining as his sheeny-lathered lips snicker from right beside your tender ear, and his mushroomy tip grazes right down his favorite target of your treacly slit. Slow. Steady. “And I hafta prove it.”

Nevermind the fact that he was talking like he wasn’t your ex-husband of just a few days. 

Nevermind the fact that you’re sure the pulpy depths of your poor cunt was already utterly bruised and battered with the exact bulky circumference of Toji’s proud crownhead. Because Toji Fushiguro could never dream of being with another.

He’s tugging you even more pliably into this mean full nelson of his, squeezing out a thick few dewdrops of buttery pre that lather your puckered hole. Rotund, curvaceous mound of his fattened head swirling patterned circles at your snug hole around and around-

“Don’ tell me this pretty pussy’s hngh- forgotten about me already?” He’s murking out, planting exactly three simpering swats! to your slick-flooded entrance before sinking in- “Heh- yeahhh that’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Because your drooling cunt was always so greedy for him - your bloated pussy lips struggling and hungry being opened oh-so-widely agape. It made your slackened maw lather with a fresh wave of saliva at the sheerly raw stretch.

“Good girl- good fuckin’ girl takin’ all of me.” Toji’s huffing out, head tilting sleazily to the side to take in every inch of the heavenly bouquet envisioned right below him. “Bet ya missed me all deep inside, huh? S’that why you’re gettin’ all jealous over some rando?”

But, of course, the silent treatment never worked on Toji - and you’re finding him cooing, “Awww, c’mon my wife-” Such pointed, loving emphasis, “-talk to me. Lemme hear those pretty noises.”

And you hate the way that his rumbling baritone tilts into something mockingly higher. You hate the way that his bludgeoning tip rims around your gooey slick-filled entrance and makes your voice crack.

“T-talking about ah- jealous-” You’re managing out, and Toji’s willowy eyes widen ever-so-slightly at the way you can manage out coherent syllables even through each punctuating drill. “-but I ngh- saw the way you looked at my coworker, you green-eyed m-monster.”

He’s scoffing, spanking your overstuffed pussy once. Twice. Thrice just for good measure. “Feisty, aren’t you, mama?”

And every minute wiggle is dampered helplessly by the way that he’d curled two large forearms - muscular and veiny - around your legs to embrace you tightly. Chin rested over your head, “He was only bein’ nice-”

“And nice isn’t gonna get your hngh- cute cunt sucking like as slut like this.” Toji’s rolling his eyes, “Don’t joke with me now, doll, spread those pretty hngh- legs n’ lemme see her. No need to be shy.”

Massively engulfing hands of his crown the topped curve of your dangling knees and mold you to every one of Toji’s lecherous whims until you almost do feel shy. But there was absolutely nothing shy about the way that he was now leering at you.

Hot breath wafting with the sound of a low whistle, “Shiiiit- pretty lil’ thing, huh? Don’tcha know how much m’weak for ya? Why the fuck would I ever wan’ anyone else? Silly girl…”

“S-stop- staring—” You’re whining out, fingers tangling through the tresses of Toji’s darkly silken bangs and pulling. A blasphemous little action that earns you a heavy-handed thud of his bloated head into your soppy cervix. 

“How can I not stare, mama- she’s mine, isn’t she?” And there was something in his tone, something…edged and rough- and you swear that Toji was the one that sounded somewhat jealous. Sounded gone. “And I’m yours, of course.”

Ruined every time his ruddied tip was skimming past the syrupy adhesive-like maze of your insides and thumping right into the targeted bullseye of your cervix. 

He’s so hot underneath you - feverish. The ridged ladders of his washboard abs slipping and sliding a lewd massage underneath your back. And the feeling is so heavenly that you’re wondering why you ever signed those divorce papers in Higuruma’s office in the first place.

“No needa worry- M’yours, doll-” Grit out. Harsh. Punishing as much as his deep strokes were messing up your poor insides. Making sure that you won’t forget. Voice seeping with something wild, “H-heh. Divorced or not- a d-divorce which won’t last for ngh- long anyway- I got every part of ya ah- fucking memorized, y’know? Think I’d do that for hngh- anyone else?”

“E-every?” Your legs and voice are wobbling like jelly at his words.

“Every.”

As if to prove his point, he’s thumbing gluttonously over the rounded outline of where he was rummaging your sodden walls. Shooting out a few wiry spatters of pre that almost fill you up to the brim - so much of it - once he’s gliding over with a few cocky touches.

“My favorite spot s’always here-” The tremors of his recoiling bounces into your spongy womb rattle your melty mind. You feel the jitters of his thick thigh muscles when he arches into a curve up, up, up. “-knock knock.”

“S-so…” Mumbling, shit- Toji was fucking you like he couldn’t get enough of you. “-filthy.”

He’s rolling his eyes at that little comment - you like it, anyway if that warm geyser streaming from between your mushy folds told him anything. 

“N’ I remember that your hngh- favorite spot was here…” Oh, you knew what he was doing - you knew exactly the way in which Toji’s dark brows would scrunch with rude delight when his strawberry divot slurs right past that magical spot. “Orrrrr…here-” Ramming resoundingly with his left-leaning girth in exactly the opposite way from the spot that only he could reach so well. Toji’s tongue pops out to lap at his sneaky dribble of saliva - he was loving this. “Whoops…maybe-”

“F-fuck-” You’re all but begging, your whimpers going straight to that forevermore bloated shaft of his. Pumping in a few horny ounces that make him grow even thicker, “-fine- fuck! Please-”

“Hm…” Toji’s tutting, bangs sticking to the plane of his prespired forehead as he shakes his head understandingly. Mockingly so. “What’s that?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

He’s lolling out his tongue to lap at the salty pearls of tears beginning to waterfall from your fluttering eyes, “Say ‘please- husband.’”

The embarrassment and pure irritation curdling in your veins was strong, but your need - your throb from the wet patch between your legs, and that spot was even stronger. Shit, you needed him. “P-please…my husband.”

Ah, the words are barely spilling from your mouth, barely even reaching our own ears before Toji’s making you see white-hot pleasure flickering behind your lids. A drawling keen dragging out from your throat as soon as his curvaceous cockhead nuzzles up in a sweet, sweet hug into your g-spot. 

And your ears can only thunder with your heartbeat, your spine bowing as your husband plaps his fat cock into your most candied spots over and over and over-

“One more thing.” Something cool touches your face, and only seconds later do you recognize it to be a phone. Your phone. “Tell that lil’ loser of a coworker that yer hgh- married. And-” Another deafening pap! “-expecting.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Yours, always.

“I…I’m sorry, my love.” Nanami hisses - he heaves the moment his buttery-topped tip was sinking past your puckered entrance. And there’s a dangerous furrow between his neat, blond brows, “But I can’t have ya sayin’ anything bad about my wife.”

And he was so serious - seriously in love with the way you were gaping up with spit-flooded lips when one of his thick, calloused digits massage over your eagerly peaked clit with the chillingly golden band of his wedding ring. Matching with yours. 

Your fingers dig into the plane of your husband’s unfairly broad shoulders underneath his blue button-up, all rippling muscles and sheer dripping sex appeal. He hadn’t even bothered to take his office clothes before helping you…feel better. “Kento, I-I’m just sayin’ your new c-coworker is so much prettier-”

Thwack!

Only for him to cut you off with a heavy-handed spank to your treacly cunt, and a rumbling growl - rasping from beneath his stern lips once Nanami grants you with a filthy, filthy glissade of a French kiss. And you could taste him - taste yourself from his makeout with your slobbery pussy just before.

Your sticky slick lacquering his gummy lips in a candied glaze, slipping and sliding all the way down the dimpled edges of his grin, his chin, down below between his cushiony pecs- 

It was like a badge of honor, and Nanami Kento gladly and proudly adorned it.

You’re just leaking from that gooey spot between your legs when he’s back to pressing peck after peck on both your lips and your cushy g-spot. Dribbles of translucent slick drenching Nanami’s tawny happy trail - and his ring. 

One that’s pushed between your lecherously parted lips to swirl around that whiny cavern of your mouth, making you just shut up-

“G-gonna-” Clawing at his strong forearms, shocked that you were being halfway choked by your dear, gentle husband. “-gonna get dirty this way, K-Ken-”

“No, don’t mind getting…dirty if it’s you.” You’re hearing Nanami gasp from above you, murky pants of his shooting out in a rasping ah! ah! ah! And his droopily half-lidded eyes just bore into yours with sweet connection, “And I hate disrespectin’ my ngh- wife, this way but…but m’not gonna go easy on you tonight, darlin’.”

Fuck.

The bed sings out splintering creaks with every thud! of Nanami’s fatly bloated tip smooching up against your spongy cervix. Every bouncy bludgeon spurting out the most dewy ribbons of his precum from the very tip of his rounded crownhead. Proud and ruthless.

You can only wring your fingers through Nanami’s golden strands, unsticking stray locks from his prespired forehead. Babbles upon babbles spill from your lips, “I-fuck! Kentoooo- it f-feels so good.”

“Good, hm? Th-tha’s right-” Freely thumbing away a few puddly gumdrops of saliva that’d begun just spilling from the corners of your maw with every hit after hit- 

And every clashing pivot of his toned hipbones sting, heat blossoming up your spine in this sloppy mess of a mating press that Nanami had manhandled you into. But he needed more- more more more-

“S-shoooo good, Ken- right there-” Lewd little strings of hiccups are bubbling from your chest and wafting up between the bustling fingers still toying with your mouth and making you suck. Tongue swirling up the cold engraved metal of his ring as if your favorite honeyed lolly, “Always feels so ngh- good havin’ you inside me-”

Too good.

Unable to help yourself from greedily clasping onto that dangling yellowy tie sticking to your sweat-simmered tits and pulling-

And oh, this makes Nanami gasp- free hand slamming! down onto the timber bedframe. This makes his hips hammer forward with a loudly ringing pap! Plummy, split cockhead probing into your cervix hard. 

Never slowing down, never stopping- hell, he doesn’t think he even could right now. 

“H-heh, my clever girl.” A kiss against your forehead. “My needy girl.” Your cheeks. Each side. “My ngh- beautiful girl- most beautiful girl in this world.”

There’s such utter and true loving in his foggy mahogany eyes that you almost feel shy. “D-don’t look at me like that, Kento.”

“Y’know I only h-have eyes for you, my love…” Accompanied by the digits rummaging deep inside your sultry mouth to reel back with a sodden plap! And dip down to caressingly pinch your plump clit, “C’mon- tighter. Mark me up. Tight.”

And there’s nothing you can do but listen to what he says.

How could you not?

Not when the ever-sensible Nanami Kento was begging - pleading - down at you to choke his velveteen tie even tighter around his attractive throat. Adam’s apple bobbing at your increasing strain, lightning bolts of veins thumping when you squeeze.

“Yeahhh- don’ be shy. Let everyone know- fuuuuck-” Bleary head falling back with every adhesive-like cling of your elastic walls - or, at least, trying to if it wasn’t for your chokehold with his tie. Nanami’s lips curl into an oh-so-feral snarl, head tilting to the side to chafe his own flesh with the ropey bruises of your actions. “-mark me up s-so that the whole office knows m’yours. And I…”

Fuck, you looked so cute fucked dumb and drooling on his fat dick like this. 

Nanami’s thick muscular thighs are shivering at this point, shovelling your own further and further upon the more he could feel himself losing his fucking mind. 

“And I’m gonna m-marry you.” Bumbling out over and over like a mantra now, Nanami was so pussydrunk that his rotund tip wasn’t even kissing up against the bullseye of your g-spot directly anymore. Breath hitching, “Gonna marry- hngh- needa marry. B-be your husband- and-” Just dragging out achy massages of his swollen length to lustre every gooey inch of you with layers on top of voluminous layers of his- cum? “Sh-shit.”

Because Nanami was cumming and he couldn’t stop. 

Heaps of weighty ropes splatter across your elastic channel, it’s swashing around in thick masses every time he’s fucking it back deeply into you. “I love you.”

CRACK! 

At this moment, you’re sure that it’s your mind splintering into a million pieces, and only many, many hours later do you realize that it’s your poor broken bedframe. Because you’re overspilling with drooling dredges of pearlescent seed and bliss when that finally pushes you over the edge, too. “K-Kentoooo-”

“Shhh sh sh- m’here Hold onto me-” he’s rasping out. Airy. Depraved. Like Nanami doesn’t even know that the words are leaving his lips. “So perfect…wanna marry you, darling.”

You can only blurt out a drunken giggle, “Ken- we’re ngh- already married.”

“Oh…then…you already know m’yours…” Nuzzling his face into his favorite hideout at the crook of your neck, Nanami’s words are almost cracking into a whine - a plea for the very first time in his life. “-body and soul.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - XOXO

“Why hello to you, too.” You flinch when Geto snickers once his sneaking fingers massage downwards to pry open your thoroughly puckered and drooling pussy lips. He wasn’t talking to you. “Wanna help me make my girl all happy again?”

And he’s humming along, throwing your pliable legs easily over his sculptured shoulders with an understanding nod. “Mmmm- needy one, aren’tcha?”

“You’re s-such a tease.” You’re huffing out, brows knitting in a way that only made the pretty man above you kiss away. 

“And you’re such a green-eyed lil’ monster.” He’s purring back, a rasping growl leaking its way into Geto’s teasing words. “And as much as I love that ah- jealous pout on ya, gorgeous, better know it only makes me…harder.”

Geto’s snaking a hand to pry your drunkenly lolling head to veer downwards, chuckling at the way your droopy eyes widen when you’re taking note of his staggeringly bloated cock laid right there between your legs. Red and angry. So ready to pump the heated geyser between your legs full of his inches, that he can’t help but bawl out a ribbony string of pre smearing across your tummy. Enough so that you can almost taste it-

“What? What happened to my heh- snappy girl, huh?” Inky bangs mussing up when he’s cocking his head to simply leer. Such a sleazy look of depravity taking over all of his features, “Too big?” 

You’re shaking your head - gasping, “Y-yes but I want it- want you hck! inside me so badly, Suguru—”

“Say m’name like that n’ I’ll cum.” He’s rolling his eyes, truly unabashed and greedy. With a sopping wet plap! Geto’s planting your treacly slit with a spank, only for you to be presented with the big beefy expanse of his pale forearm before you can even make a whiny noise. “Now, bite down and take it.”

You think you could sob when every long, girthy inch of his fills you up to your very brim. Bulky globular tip kissing past your gluey lips and mazing you open so widely around him, until your elastic walls were tautly stretched till you could feel every ridge, every thumping vein, every goopy spurt of warm pre that showered your melty insides. 

“Heh.” Fuck, Geto’s heart just lurches with something warm at that heart-eyed cross of your pupils. Such a pretty picture. “Can ya count how many inches f’me, gorgeous?”

Ah, you couldn’t think much less count with just how battering Geto was with his mindless ruts just to fit inside. Washboard abs flexing with every push, push, push-

You’re letting go of his heated flesh with a soppy pwah! bursting from your lungs. “E-eight?” Only to be hit with a messy thud! of his thick cockhead dragging down your mushy walls, throbbing veins thumping at your tenderized spots in time with your very heartbeat. Oh. “Nine?”

“Atta girl.” The calloused mountains of his palms covet underneath your thighs and manhandle you even closer to lock them around his neck. Tighter. “Got a whole nine inches j-just for you, alllll for this pretty pussy right here.”

You can’t help but feel like a fucking toy at the merciless hands of Geto Suguru - and he’s more than happy to pliantly jerk you around until you were halfway through sobbing at the sheer pounds after pounds.

Your glossed lips can only part open when he’s punctuating each thrust with a tug on the precious hood of your clit, and Geto was always the best with his fingers. Dipping and swirling them around dexterously to make you see flashing stars, “Sugu, it- It feels- so-”

“Louder.”

“S-Sugu-”

“Ah ah- louder.” Mahogany headboard clattering against the walls, about to break. To snap. Just as much as he was right about now. “Don’ hold back any fuck- pretty noises from me. The entire ah- place hasn’t heard ya yet.”

“Mhmm, does it feel hah- good when big bad Sugu is fucking you stupid?” Leaving a sweet little pap! of his blushing red tip particularly hard into your g-spot, you swear you could taste the bliss of his bumpy veins branding into your tenderized orifices. “When ya don’t have to think about ngh- aaaany of those silly things?”

And you couldn’t worry about anything - not that too-flirty new member of the association, not your jealousy - not when Geto was fucking each and every thought out of your poor mind. 

Barely even registering it even once one engulfing hand curls gently at the back of your neck to hide away your prespired face into the clammy crook of his neck. So pretty and supple when he’s guiding you to bite, “C’mon then- heh- mark me. Use me. Show off that m’yours.”

“Y-you’re enjoying this-” you’re whining, though, nosing away to pinprick littering bites that blossom and bloom, and show off even if he had his traditional robes on. 

“And you’re turned on.” He’s finishing off your never-ending mewls, head lolling backwards drunkenly to give you an even bigger canvas to work with. “Feeling me all deep inside-” Splaying out a palm along your tummy to feel for that cylindrical outline of something hard. Aching. Bumping up in wet smooches into your deepest spots. “Such a possessive lil’ thing milkin’ me. I need you to fuck me. Fuh-fuck me.”

Muttering, “Ngh- should- should fuck you in front of the whole cult to l-let them know.” Your murky huffs are laced with something grumbling that makes his fattened tip twitch. 

It’s only then and there that you hear notorious clan leader Geto Suguru whimper. For the first time ever in his life, breaking at the seams when your nails rake pretty red valleys down the mountainous expanse of his Adonis-like back. 

Flexing and rippling and fuck-

Fuck, Geto thinks he could almost cum right then and there at the awe-strucken expression smeared all over your face. The way your lips were curling with trickling rivulets of drool and you barely even realize.

“That’s right-” He’s cooing at your nonsensical babbling like it was his favorite conversation, and you’ve never seen him so fucked. So much like putty underneath your hands as you leave marks for days. Maw slagging open with a smirk, heady lids so heavy and hypnotized that they’re practically closed. “That’s right, that’s riiiight- That can be arranged.”

Your greedy fingerpads tangle with his silken locks and jerk in shock, syrupy sap leaking sobbing between your pursed lips and forming a little ring right at Geto’s hulking base once you’re registering what he said. “Can be- arranged?”

And ah- Geto knows he loves you. He really, really loves you. Marked and yours, he’s whispering, “Anything for my girl. Because m’yours and yours forever and ever.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-I’m yours…”

And not even the way that poor Choso was buried vulgarly deep into every syrupy nook and cranny of your pretty pussy would stop him from rambling those whimpering words. In fact, it was the opposite. 

He was so thoroughly pussydrunk that just a few sloppy sucks of our glutinous walls makes Choso’s heaving chest stutter mid-fuck. Drooling maw falling pathetically open at the sheen sprays formulating around his swollen, rose-pink shaft. 

So glossy and pretty that he feels hypnotized.

“Cho…” Only snapping half-awake once your trembly fingers dive into Choso’s slightly dampened chestnut locks. And the flutters of his long lashes are so adorable, “D’you ngh- mean that?”

“Of course! Don’t be silly, my baby–” And he can’t even believe what he’s hearing - you? The light of his life? Fucking jealous over a too-flirty sorcerer? God, if it wasn’t for the way that his breath hitches at the dewy cling of your mushy walls exactly around his sensitive underside, then Choso would’ve thought that he was dreaming. “You know you’re the ah! only one for me.”

And he meant it with every pound after papping pound of his plumpened, ruddy crownhead drawing spattered gashes into your rubbery channel. 

Rubbing over one slender thumb to trailway the peak of your buttony clit, Choso can’t hold back his keening whine at just how much wetter that makes your already-slobbering pussy. Swirling pressurized gyrations over and over, he’s muttering away, “G-gonna prove it- g’na make you cum- ngh- have to- ah fuck-”

“Oh- shit- B-baby, I can’t stop-” You’re whispering at the fountained squirt of your slick flooding the sultry non-existent space between you two - you’re so responsive today, and Choso thinks he could cum just from this. 

“Fuck me-” he’s dribbling through roughly parted lips, nose crinkling with utter bliss. “Fuck me- ngh- Yeah yeah yeah, milk me and make me yours, baby- only ever want you to milk me.”

You’re snickering with such utter loving in your eyes that it makes him shy. “H-heh, so cute when you’re fucking yourself so hah- deep in me like this, baby.”

He could whine, could beg your cute cunt for more. Could feel not even a mere inkling of embarrassment as his tongue lolls out like such a slut to slide glazy digits all the way into the back of his greedy throat. Dewy eyes shuttering at the sugarcoated taste of your sweet, sweet juices-

“Oh, but you sh-shouldn’t ever need to be jealous. I w-wanna…” he’s starting off with a tremoring wobble of his jutted, strawberry-pink lips. Thickly viscous coatings of saliva and your slick hanging off of them like a sticky second skin, “-wanna s-stuff my face between your pretty legs forever and ever, baby–”

And Choso couldn’t fucking believe the words were spilling from his mouth - he was supposed to be making his poor girl feel better. Supposed to be comforting you.

But these are so sinful that it makes your beloved boyfriend burn a bright blossoming red, such a pretty flush eating one the apples of his cheeks. One you can’t help but cup, “S’that all?”

Shit, Choso can feel his buttery pre coil out in a few soppy splotches that puddle at the end of your pulpy cervix, split-ended shaft making such a mess. His hefty breeder balls clench tautly at the teasing tone of your voice- dammit. He can’t cum before you.

“N-no.” Pearly white teeth sinking into his gummy bottom lip, Choso chews away as if it was his favorite candy. Trying so-very-hard to hold himself back. “Wanna fuck her- ngh-” And just one look– just one sneaking spy down at where he was disappearing back and forth always left him stupidly speechless. “-her…p-pretty lips until I…die. Think m’ngh- addicted, baby—”

He was so precious.

Tear-streaked face nuzzling the crook of your neck, dexterous fingers knotting around the bulky base of his length. And the only thing that Choso’s heavy tongue can jumble out is a mixture of your name and please- please please-

“Aww, Cho–” You’re prying his sweaty face away to gaze down ravenously into yours, and just the sweet eye contact is enough to make his skin even more feverishly blushing pink. “Are you close?”

“N-no…”

A lie - and both of you knew it.

Because Choso’s streaks of thumping veins down his sensitive cock always throbbed so much harder when it was building up. His dark lashes lacquering with a salty layer of tears, sculptured abs flexing and pulling tight when his sloppy hips pap! pap! pap! into your fleshy mounds like such an animal.

Choso has never felt more out of control - more and more like his sanity was fraying away with every bumpy nudge of his dewdropping rotund tip into your bouncy sweet spots. With every drag of your raking nails down his scalp in a way that makes him think he would fucking purr if he could-

“I…I lied.” He’s confessing like his greatest sin, one arm wrangling around your waist to smush your naked tits against his cushy pecs. Cozy. “M’gonna cum-”

“Cum f’me, Choso.”

Biting back a shrilling mewl at the lecherous use of his full name, he’s already feeling the white-hot shockwaves of his tightly teetering orgasm swirling around in his thwacking balls. Urgently latching two soft-padded fingertips onto your clit, Choso pinches-

And then you’re both cumming.

You don’t know who was first - but in the depths of your lust-filmed mind, you’re sure you tied for the hardest. Because you’re seeing ivory - or make that was just the thickly viscous globs of seed that verspilled from your knotted cunt. 

“Fuh-fuck me-” he’s gurgling out, reeling you into his glimmering, toned body so tightly. Usually so conscious of crushing you with his weight, but now you’re being pinned to the soaked sheets with every ounce of him. He’s melting into you, abs against your tummy, thighs against your own, head dripping into your throat to bite. “Love you- love you love you love- love being yours. And yours o-only.”

Clingy wads of seed sloshing out of you with every sensitive buck, Choso’s still fucking you through your high. Fucking you like he can’t stop the steaming hot piles of cum being poured out into your cozy pussy until you were flooded to the brim.

And through your black-tinged vision you can make out the hypnotized figure of him dipping down two ravaging fingers to smear the clingfilm of lustrous creamy white. Swabbing a generous helping before popping them into his dribbling mouth-

“Baby, did you know curses mate for life?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Cross my heart

“Hah- what was that again, silly human?” Sukuna’s crossing over his big beefy arms exactly how he knew you liked, and the way you’re ogling the powerful flexes of his biceps is just so darn cute. “Jealous? Repeat that f’me- for your king.”

As if you could. 

As if Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just fucking you stupid right now - for what seemed like hours and hours and hours. The fat globe of his bawling cockhead drawing a few trickles of sap down your battered g-spot each and every time. Every vicious rut arching perfectly off of his luxurious throne to leave wet plap! after plap! after plap! on your poor stinging mounds of flesh.

You were supposed to be riding him - but, of course, the king of curses had to steal your thunder. Had to shut up your shrilling whines by bumping his hips into you mercilessly. 

“Oi oi-” Two dark-nailed digits are slicking in front of your deliciously crossed eyes to snap you out of your cockdrunken little haze, and with a sharp snap! your pulpy cervix is being bludgeoned with three thick drags of one strawberry-ruby tip. He’s fisting his other matchingly swollen length with fat fingers, thumbing down those lightning bolted veins mouth-wateringly. “Don’t tell me yer tappin’ out ngh- already?”

Your mewls come out candied and so, so needy. Bonelessly jittery arms curling around Sukuna’s thick neck, to jerk your hips mere sultry inches down his soppily glazed shafts. “I-I’m- not- I was just…”

“And now yer fuckin’ running away.” He’s drawling out, and oh, you could tell that he was enjoying this. Monstrous mouth on his stomach spilling out a few greedy puddles of saliva at that oh-so-desperate pout on your face. Grinning. “Can’t talk but- ya can ah- run away? Where are ya going, huh? Lemme escort ya, brat.”

Before you can even blink, he’s baring you with such a feral grin. Plumpish lips pulled back to show off those elongated canines, rumbling snickers shooting out from between them the very moment Sukuna’s curling a staggering arm around the small of your back. Hard.

Crushing you against the sweat-simmers mountains of his cushiony pecs, you’re at the perfect deepened angle for his second mouth to just dote on the weep tip of your clit. 

“Sh-shit-” Your head tumbles airily backwards at the roughened smooch of his oversized tastebuds down your neglected clit, so hot and greedy that it makes you see stars. Mumbles slurring with every syllable, “Kuna i-it feels so good-”

“Well, duh.” Sukuna has no qualms rolling those glowingly demon-red eyes, plumpened cock swiping copious syrupy dewdrops around and around your puckered hole. “Dunno why ya think of all this- ngh! fuck- stupid shit…Ya really think I make jus’ anyone ah- feel like this?”

You’re huffing, knowing exactly the stupid conversation that got you here. “Not m-my fault- everyone in your court is always trying to be ngh! fuuuck- a-all over you and I just got a little jeal-”

“No shit, woman.” Fuck- you should’ve expected the punishing little pinch of his plushy fingerpads around your beaded nipples. And Sukuna can only tut, “Gettin’ jealous over low-lives for ngh- what? How m’I gonna get that cute lil’ brain of yours to f-finally understand, hm?”

And it’s like he was trying to drill that idea into you. In many ways.

Sukuna’s letting a third of his massive palms pucker up your swollen pussylips. Lecherously so.

Dancing his heated fingertips up and down up and down those saturatedly puffed-up edges before letting the hefty hilt of his stacked shaft fall in a weighty smack! Once. Just enough to make you sound out a shocked yelp at the messy French snog of his second cock down your treacly slit.

Slow and languid - the complete opposite of how vigorously he was now filling you up with those exact inches. “My jealous girl- ngh- one’s not ‘nough, right? Good thing your Kuna has two.”

Yeah, his size was incredible. 

Your parted lips couldn’t stop quivering, couldn’t stop streaming out geysers of cockdrunk spit at just how close you felt to bursting. 

Because his girths were plugging you mind-numbingly full, thumping veins massaging in sweet little glissades down the most treasured sweet spots of your walls. Two of Sukuna’s fingers dip downwards to spread your bulging lips, using every ounce from years upon years of battle just to buck. Up, up, up-

“Sh-shit—” he’s hissing underneath his headily cloudy breath, jaw clenching at the velvety slide of himself stuffing you doubly full. And if Sukuna thought that he wasn’t handling this well, then he wasn’t ready to gaze with glazed eyes up at you. “So- tight. Look at that bulge. Feelin’ full, brat?”

Yes. You could almost sob, pulling on those bubblegum curls at the base of Sukuna’s neck when he’s only pivoting to sink in even deeper. Yes yes yes yes-

“Good. G-gonna make a biiiig mess- here-” You’re whimpering brokenly at the sharp throb of one index of his probing about halfway down your tummy, where Sukuna’s sweltering hot tips were scouring. “-maybe then ya won’t forget who’s yours.”

“M-mine?” You’re blinking your droopy eyes up at him, and shit- he can feel his regal cheekbones burn at the pretty sight.

Drooly little squelches are wafting off from underneath you after every battering ram of an innocent peck up into your goopy depths. And Sukuna only matches the slurping sounds back up above when he latches his lips onto yours.

“Kiss me- kiss me proper.” Your maw dangles open drunkenly with a prying tug from one of his thumbs, “Lick-” And it’s so fucking filthy that you can feel your slobbering pussy lacquer with another candied wave of slick, flooding between your legs and helping you slip and slide in lewd gyrations of his lap. A mess that his excess mouth gladly laps up. “Spit.”

You do - letting the gleaming thick wad splatter onto Sukuna’s eagerly awaiting tongue and lather his mouth even wetter. And you right along with-

With your orgasm taking you by surprise - fuck. Right at the moment your dripping cunt pecks his twin hilts. 

You hadn’t even noticed the way it was building up and up and up- not until you’re letting your eyes sprint to the sluggish back of your head with a moan. 

“I-I’m-” Barely able to stutter out, stomach piling hotly with the shockwave of your high and the pleasurably liquidly masses of Sukuna’s buttery pre. Even more as he watched you fall apart. “-cumming—!”

“I know I know, nasty girl. Fuckin’ filthy.” He’s planting heavy-duty pound after pound to permanently brand all those spots, your cervix, everywhere and anywhere with the rounded circumference of his bloated cockheads. Swiping off those miniscule splatters of remnants, grumbling - with such a content smile. “Gotta work on your h-heh aim, though. Notice anything, brat?” 

Notice? What was there to notice? You muse you could barely even think - barely even breathe with the way that your mind was still jolted with your orgasm. With the way that Sukuna’s bustling cocks were stretching your gluey walls permanently open and-

Oh.

Oh.

That’s when your lust-filmed eyes see it - the tattoo. Nothing out of the ordinary to see Sukuna with a cursed marking on his tongue, but what came right after was what had you gasping…your name. Inked right on his flesh.

“Next time ya get- tch…jealous, m’ngh- tattooing your name here-” Drifting down his clawed digits from your hips and over to his own. And then up to his heart. He was dead serious. Planting your agape mouth with a sappy kiss, “-and fuckin’ ya in front of the whole court, my silly human.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Casual?!

Sure, this arrangement with you was supposed to be casual but…one simple hangout with friends later and Ino Takuma knows you’re the only one he’d ever want to see walk down that damn aisle. He knows.

Because you’ve got your trembly legs practically padlocked greedily around the slender curve of his toned waist, your slobbery folds greedily drooling down every curvaceous inch of him. And oh, he can’t help but let off a quiet whine at the grumpy furrow in your brows, “W-wan’ more, Taku–!”

More. 

More. 

More more more that made his peachy-pink tip drivel out a few slippery douses of pre down your rubbery walls like your favorite sort of icing. Only adding to the complete and utter mess he’d already made-

“Are ya sure?” Ino’s drawling out, mean hips angling to skim just past the bruised and battered orifice of your g-spot. Slowly puckering up in a French kiss against your cervix, he’s catching a thumb down the eager globs of cum from just before that were now sloshing out of you. Teasing it into his mouth, “Yer already so f-full, pretty- Hmmmm, maybe we should just hngh- rest now-”

Ah, he knew exactly what would happen.

Exactly how it would only take three curls of his fat thumb up and down the lustrous layers of buttery seed that were staining your puffy pussylips for you to snap. To let out a cloudy pant of swears before planting your quivering feet flat on the plush mattress and flip the two of you over. 

Ino’s leaving a stinging spank once the mound of your ass rests right up against the tight curve of his rounded balls, slobbering a glossy snail trail all over his heated skin in a way that make him groan. “Ohhh, love it when yer rough w’me like this.”

“Just one more…” He’s not even sure if you knew just how lethal that pout of yours was, fingers digging into his scalp to pull on his silky chestnut locks. And Ino lets you. Fuck- he lets you. “Want to be s-sure that next time, everyone knows you’re mine.”

Oh. Ino can feel his neat brows raising, hips rummaging upwards into your gluey depths with a mindless slam! “Holy shit. I-is that what this is- you’re ngh- jealous?” Latching onto the pivoting motions of your hips, “That’s so fucking hot.”

Indeed, and who knew that a flirty waitress would leave you fucking the sanity out of him like this. 

Ino’s finding himself keening at the smaller digits of yours staking your nails and your claim all over his pretty tawny hair, his throat, his pecs. Marks upon marks upon marks-

“Hah- fuuuuck- you jus’ feel so ngh- good, baby—” you’re practically purring, jerking your hips to mush his fattened mushroom tip into your sweetest spot with practice. Up and down and Ino can’t look away. “Makes me wanna k-keep ya all to myself.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s quirking up one brow, and you can’t help but find it so rawly sexy the way he does it. “S’that what you hngh- want? Wanna keep me until ya-” Both of you hissing when he’s grazing his soft fingertips across the creamy wads of cum spilling from your soppy slit. Before pushing it back in- “-until ya milk me dry, pretty?”

He was always so mean with his mouth - but the way that Ino was arching his spine the perfect curvature off of the drenched sheets was even meaner. 

Choking out through long, unsteady heaves of his pronounced pecs, “Shit, greedy girl. D-don’t know if I even can cum anymore, y’know?”

“Just one more?”

“Dammit…dammit! Ya know I can’t- ah- resist ya.” He’s tutting, “Just oooone more for m’girl?”

Deep, vulgar strokes plap! plap! plapping! against your own sloppy staccato. Vicious. Hard enough that the excess ribbons of cum smear and sludge all inside your tight entrance. It feels so completely lecherous that you don’t even hesitate before craning one set of fingers behind your back to graze over his puckered ballsack.

Tender touch making Ino’s jaw drop with a whine -  a whine. 

“Y-you vixen–” Soft hair splaying out across the pillowcase like a halo when he’s throwing his head alllll the way back, matching the way his eyes slide behind until all you can see are those ivory whites. “Fucking take it then, always ruinin’ me with this p-pretty pussy o’ yours.”

“S’that so?” You’re musing, teeth sinking into the tender spot right at his left earlobe. And Ino’s face is so sweaty and flushed nuzzling into yours, streaked with a cherry-red blush that looks oh-so-cute. “No need to be shy about it, Taku–” 

“F-fuuuck- don’ say my ngh- name like that.” And there’s something in the way he giggles all pussydrunkenly, “Gonna make me- cum again- Fuuuck, only you could m-make me like this.”

Oh?

So very drunk off of you and the clingy smooches your sloppy cunt was leaving on his rock-hard length that he just couldn’t stop babbling. Faster. Couldn’t stop running his kiss-bruised mouth with every thwacking thrash! against your magical spots, dotting gumdrops of dangerous pre with every single jackhammer. Sloppier. 

And that smile on your face is heavenly. “Say that again, baby?” But your words are devilish.

As if to whisper his deepest darkest secrets in hoarse, breaking whimpers into your ear, Ino’s curling his dextrous inches of fingers around your throat. Hauling you greedy centimeters closer until his heady breath was bouncing in warm puffs off of your features, in awe taking you in. Drooling. Blushing. Syllables drowning in embarrassment, “Only you can ah- fuck me stupid like this- o-only you…m’yours.”

“Gonna hafta let hngh- everyone know then-” you’re humming, voice so silky smooth but Ino’s ruddied cock could feel the sweltering hot gushes as you only got wetter. “-I’ll be ah- showing you off then-”

“Mhmm– yeah- yeah, whatever you say, sweetness.” He’s sighing underneath his breath when your bounces only grow more vicious. “Proper name, place name…backtory stuff.” Face drooping into the strained crook of his neck and- oh.

And then you bite him and Ino thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

With you, straddling him right then and there like the angel you are. Your needy pussy swallowing up torrential ounces and ounces and ounces of his ribbony cum. The sappy masses mixing and meshing with the already-filthy puddle that he’d made before.

There’s just so much spilling from that strawberry pink divot peaking at his crownhead, that Ino’s entire body hunches over. Sweat-dampened forehead sticking to yours, shivers sprinting down his spine to where he was maintaining a vice-like grip plugging you full of his swirling cum.

Bleeding into his words when he’s muttering up at you through long, fluttering lashes, “C-can we hold hands when we go out now?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - WEAK

“M’not weak.” He’s spitting out, long snowy lashes fluttering with every sheeny glissade of your puckered pussy lips rovering up and down his achy, overused cock. Up and down up and down up and- “So ngh- m-mark me up.”

And it was just about the only thing that Gojo Satoru wanted - the only thing he yearned for - right after proving to you and everyone else that he was yours. 

He’d just finished smearing your prettily puckered lips with a thick lipstain of sappy cum, before manhandling you on top of him to ride him for hours and hours and hours. You’re so gorgeous milking his fucking soul, with Gojo’s own velvety blindfold dangling off of your neck.

Planting a long, exaggerated snog of his plump rosy lips on your sodden mouth, Gojo’s pulling away with a dramatic pout. “Wan’ to show them how the ah- strongest fucks. For everyone t-to know how well you- hngh!”

You’re proving exactly his point with a clingy clench of your glutinous walls hugging his rummaging cockhead. Slipping and sliding between his leaky mushroom tip between your saturated lips oh-so-easily with just how soaked you were.

With a stinging smack! of his slender, six-inch fingers onto the arched curve of yours ass, Gojo’s helping your bulging lips swallow up every one of his fucking inches. Greedily. 

“Why?” You’re huffing out a clouded pant, hitting Gojo’s playfully loving features. Words taking on a whiny tone that you only ever saw used by your boyfriend himself, “S-so that even more girls could flirt with you when m’right ngh- there-”

Swat!

Once. Twice. Thrice until Gojo was sure that your sharp mouth was reduced to flooding with nothing but needy whines at his punishing little thwacks. 

Reminding you of how he’d turned down anyone and everyone else that flocked to him.

You can only watch when he’s curling one big, beefy forearm around the pivoting small of your back. Sapphire eyes rolling up at you, “Girl, as much as I hah- looove that feisty hngh- mouth o’ yours. You think just anyone s’gonna make the st-strongest theirs?”

Before you can answer, he’s swabbing out a caramelized wad of translucent saliva, dipping down to your neglected clit and leaving off a pressurized spank.

“Silly lil’ thing. The answer is- no-” He’s humming away, like he wasn’t just driving your body oh-so-feral right about now. Prattles of praises dripping with every dousing dab of his globular tip opening up your gooey depths, “-so no complainin’ now, my girl.”

And it was so true.

With a few copious more kisses lingering on your tongue, Gojo’s blessing your tastebuds with a wet thwack! of his drooly saliva. Pecking away the overspilling spatters beading at the corners of your lips, “See how well ya take it? So no need ta get ngh- jealous, sweetheart.”

And maybe it was high time that you’re asking for a break, high time that you’re breathing in heaving gulps of air to try and organize your dazed mind. 

But the only thing you find yourself doing is carressing your palms to give Gojo’s bulging pecs a good firm squeeze. Digging your nails into the plush muscle in a way that makes his nose crinkle with a whimper.

“C-can’t help it, Toru–” Head throwing back with the roaring pap! of his clammy skin sticking to yours with each bounce, you’re stuffing your snug cunt so unbearably full with his massively large inches. And it only makes you want more more more- “-you’re just so pretty…”

Oh.

“Yeah?” Gojo’s letting his head splay-out into the pillow with a woozy grin smeared all over his ruined features. One set of his biceps rippling when he’s resting it sexily behind him, the other twitching when he’s curling one finger underneath the blindfold at your neck and dragging you until you’re mere sultry inches away. “Ya think m’pretty, huh?”

Your blood curdles in your vein with embarrassment at what you’d just babbled away cockdrunkenly - what you were still babbling out. “Y-yes. Unfairly pretty.”

Fuck, Gojo was just twitching his bulked rotund tip into your goopiest depths. Still so sensitive. Earning you a low whine puffing from between his lips, and the sweetest of kisses against that tender g-spot. 

“H-heh…” And if you were in a better state of mind, you’d have sworn that the great Gojo Satoru’s suave voice trembled with such an obvious crack. “M’gonna marry ya- I swear.”

And that massive diamond ring bunched up in his drawer to be mentioned later, you’re feeling the burning sting of his pampered fingernails raking bruising lines down the curvaceous arch of your spine. The sheer bend of it sending Gojo licking his lips, eyes craning to admire the bumpy pathways of his perfect work.

You’re hissing your own crescents drawing the very same thing all over Gojo’s Herculean front the very moment his jackhammers get too much. Strawberry red lines against his peachy flush. Plummy split-end probing deeply into all your treasure trove of geysers that it felt like just the slightest bit of recoil parting your gluey flesh made him mad. 

“Ohhh, girl-” The smile you’re bared with is so wild - unrestrained. Showing off his sharpened canines like such an animal, drooling and gleaming with mouth-watered sap. Breaths staggering out in hot pants, “-the way you hah- stake your claim on me is sooo sexy. Because m’yours, huh?” 

And maybe if this was any other time then you’re sure you’d be embarrassed at how quickly you’re hurtling into your orgasm headfirst with just those words and the bruising twang of his fingers pinching your clit.

Yet, it feels so good - Gojo Satoru was always the best at whatever he did. 

And right now you can feel your throat burn with the wrenching call of Toru— your hips stuttering down into his almost-thunderously. Riotous, vicious drags to plumpen your favorite spots with the curved angle of his thick cock, so drag out your high for far too long-

But Gojo wasn’t done. Of course, he wasn’t.

Not until spearheading few determinedly roughened thrashes up into your soppy cervix with a gritted slash of his mouth. 

“Yeah yeahh- y-you can handle it, girlie-” Swab after swab after swab that made your second and third orgasms cash into one. “Gotta s-suck me ngh- dry now, m’kay? Make aaaaall of Toyko lose their fuckin’ electrcity- ah- instead of worryin’ that pretty lil’ head with stupid things. Okay?” Final, heaving slopes of his thrusts- “Gotta take eeeverything th-this big cock takes like a champ, m’kay? Because it’s all yours heh…”

And then you’re milking him and you’re milking him until he’s gone. Ruined. 

The strongest reduced to nothing but a lecherous mess of whimpers and feral twitches of his ruby-red tip. Flooding your poor cunt over and over with waterfalls of his creamy sap, so fucking overstimulated that he can feel his footfalls planting down firmly on the mattress. Eyes watering, spine hunching-

CRACK!

Ah, Gojo’s cracking his leaky lids open to a dim bedroom, air murky with sex and buzzing jujutsu. Exactly how he wanted it - for everyone in every ward of Tokyo to know who made him feel this way. So good. To know how he was yours.

Gojo looks up at you, cock jerking ever-so-slightly at your heaving figure straddling him and oh, he’s in love. “Let’s take out the lights in all of Japan this time.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Soulmates.

“Cummin’ on my haaaah- cock for the fourth time and still not ‘nough?” And perhaps for the first time ever in his life, the ever-stoic Higuruma Hiromi sounded breathless. Words hitching into a needy lilt of his voice, “-still want fuckin’ more, greedy girl?”

Yes. The answer was yes yes yes yes - and it was bleeding into your every action. 

Steadying your precarious hands on the cool mahogany plane of his office desk. Important law documents rustle and fall with every single motion of your hips pivoting backwards against Higuruma’s toned ones, wrenching out resounding paps! of clammy skin-on-skin. Saturated lips puckering up around every solid, girthy inch he could give, “...J-jus’ want you, Hiromi.”

“Hm, s’that right, angel?” Planting a sudden spank of his thick digits down onto the jiggling mound of your ass. And if you crane your head over your shoulder just right, you’d catch that simpering dimple at the end of his curling grin. “Such a needy girl- bet ya can’t stop thinkin’ about me, huh?”

And- shit, Higuruma wasn’t expecting his lovely angel to actually nod. 

To let your head tumble up and downwards like you were out of control, mewling out affirmative yeses.

Without a second thought, he’s tugging the tattered rest of your tight silken skirt cleanly off. Engulfing palms smoothing over your stinging flesh and spreading your puffed-up pussy lips so wiiidely agape.

Your squirmy hips are being pinned down with one of his strong arms, and the forever-deepening angle of Higuruma hiking up a singular thick thigh. Neat black garter only digging into his supple leg muscles and making them look even bigger. “Take this fuckin’ cock now- no need to be shy.”

What a pretty sight.

Of your sheen-slicked folds struggling and yearning to take up more more more of him. Slobbering out sweltering hot geysers of sickly sweet slick that drizzle between his digits and down to that neat, black happy trail. You were so needy right now and Higuruma has never loved anything more - well, other than his love for simply you, of course. 

“Not a single ngh- inch left- hah- ya really are made f’me, huh? All this for jus’ me?” He’s hissing out over the knocking thuds of your knees bumping into the wooden furniture with each pressurized thrust. But of course, Higuruma couldn’t have that- bending his legs with a grunt to lift your own boneless limbs ever-so-slightly midair. And you take it so fucking well- “M-maybe I hafta make ya ngh- jealous of overtime more often.”

You’re mumbling, “Hiromi—”

For which you’re shut up by the pads of his rounded fingertips rolling over your pulpy clit with a patterned heart. “Kidding- kidding, angel. But I wouldn’t s-say no to ya barging in my office n’ takin’ this fucking cock more ah- often.”

Pump and pump of his vigorous shaft, you feel like you can only perch your hips higher and take it. 

All the while Higuruma’s babbling away pussydrunkenly like he doesn’t even realize it - and he doesn’t. He can’t. The only thing running through his saccharine sweet mind being you you you-

“Awww, nothin’ for ya to be worried about, dear–” Those overstimulated pearls of wet tears gathering at your droopy eyes are lazily wafted away by one of Higuruma’s thumbs. “M’a married fuckin’ man- not to my work. To you, my soulmate.”

“B-but–” Your lower lips juts out in a pout that makes his strawberry pink cockhead jolt like he’d been zapped with a million fucking volts of electricity. Mind too intoxicated to really even register what he said - married. “-makes me feel so lonely n’ jealous some ah- nights, baby–”

“My poor angel-” His face nuzzles into your tear-clammed cheeks, and the miniscule bristle of his five-o-clock shadow makes your trembling orifices only wetter. “-my poor, poor angel. Y’know what we can ngh- do?”

Blinking up dazedly, “What?”

“What if I…” And oh, he’s planing over the middle of your tummy, fingers teetering sensual little circles right above where his rummaging fat cock was making such a mess of your goopy insides. ‘-pumped ya alllll f-full right here.“ Just those sweetly tender words in your ear was enough to make your lips part parchedly, as dry as a desert. “N’ gave our little family a-another hah- member…or two.”

It’s as if as soon as the idea is dropped into your needy head, it’s all that you can think about. 

“Wan– ah-” You’re mewling, “Want it- want it so bad. I-inside please–”

Plummeting your hips in an even sloppier slew of grinds against Higuruma’s, it’s no surprise that his sculptured skin where your ass is meeting and smacking into his is angry and red. But he doesn’t mind-

Fuck, in fact, it makes Higuruma even fucking harder. Every ounce of hot blood in his body bloating up to balloon his swollen crownhead even puffier, and he’s skimming over the sensory pads of his digits over and over your womb to feel for that nudge- that little probe of his ruthless shaft into your depths.

“Yeah? That sound good?” He can’t help but snicker in an uncharacteristically sleazy way at just how eagerly you’re nodding, “‘Course it does- my- ngh! good girl takes it all, doesn’t she?” He’s so filthy with his mouth, driving you closer and closer to the edge, even more so when he’s finally uttering. “N’ m’gonna give my all because m’yours, angel. All yours.”

He was fucking you all the way through your high like he meant it - and was driving the very message into both your gummy cunt and your stupefied mind. 

Over and over in such salacious grounds of his bulky cylindrical shaft swirling into your pudgy cervix. Kissing you hello and goodbye each n’ every time until he can’t hold it in-

Can’t stop. Can’t even falter when the arm manhandling you flatly onto your front sags with the weight of his entirely powerful body. Hunching over with a low groan, Higuruma’s filling you up to the very brim. Even past that with the utter viscous volume of seed treacling past your puckered slit. 

It’s so soppingly soaked that you’re feeling your thighs slip and slide past each other with every squeeze, lathered in a sugary frosting of his cum. Packed and plugged safely inside your goopy depths.

Higuruma can’t help but let his heart twist with utter pride at the way he could feel the matted masses cream and knot around his throbbing shaft inside of you. Ready to keep you locked up in here as long as possible for it to take. 

Overtime be damned, he was on a mission to prove that he’s devoted - that he’s yours.

Which is what finds him sneakily tugging open the second drawer on his desk while you busy yourself trying to catch desperate breaths. To steady yourself. To fucking open your eyes after this thorough ruination of your insides - only to see something big, and glinting on your left ring finger. 

A big, expensive diamond in exactly the design you’d off-handedly mentioned liking years and years ago.

Your mouth drops, and Higuruma’s crooks into a simpering smile. “If that didn’t prove m’all yours- maybe this will, my wife.”

A/N. WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOG SIS-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[utilitycaster]

something that struck me from some of the really good tags on this post (specifically the "tall kings") one is that most arguments against the gods or for the benefit of Predathos rely on real-world metaphors that just...don't really fit very well, and it might just be that this isn't something for which one can draw a real world metaphor, but might actually have to conceive a world that is fundamentally different than ours. The gods aren't tall kings; "destroying the throne" does not mean a coup. It means their deaths; and yes, to state the obvious a coup against a monarchy frequently involves assassinating the monarch, but it's telling that the language is carefully skirting around that. You cannot destroy the throne or remove the crown or have the gods step down in any peaceful manner; both the Matron and Arch Heart agree this only happens if the threat of Predathos is unleashed.

And Predathos. Setting aside the connotations of assigning the idea of wild deer to sentient beings, the "reintroduction of the natural predator" metaphor collapses on several points. The first is that equating "became deities, who, as the post linked above points out and per general lore, are explicitly not able to run rampant anymore". The second is that Predathos is not a wolf that once lived on Exandria but is just as foreign to the world as the gods themselves. While I reject the metaphor entirely for the initial reasons stated, it is worth keeping in mind that if you do need it as a scaffolding on which to hang foreign concepts, Predathos is less the wolf population and more a family of tigers or cheetahs: just as much an invasive species, with an impact on the environment

I think these are two major issues that need to be addressed in any conversation:

Predathos has been adopted and mythologized by several party members who are actually much more concerned about the titans, who are dead. Killing the gods will not bring back the titans. I feel this metaphor is sort of falling into that same trap; this is not a return of something native to this world.

On some level, while I understand the use of real-world metaphors to comprehend a fantasy world from a lens of familiarity - I do this as well! - I think if we cannot have a discussion that starts with "what if Predathos is in fact the embodiment of a cosmic, unending, merciless hunger that cannot be changed and cannot be swayed and can only be sealed, killed, or given free rein" we cannot have a discussion at all. I think it's necessary to acknowledge we're talking about a game that gives you a space to explore an idea as if it were physical, and which might not be able to be told within the bounds of real-world experience.

This of course also doesn't address the ongoing issue of "whether or not Bells Hells actions towards Predathos and the outcome ends up being in the moral right, the road to get here was structurally unsound and the party did not go in with the intent of doing anything specific whatsoever and indeed faltered for the most part when asked by the main villain what they wanted." Again, I don't care if Bells Hells are heroes or villains or something in between, but they don't seem to be anything or have any shared intention as a group, which I've discussed already here. But if you do want to argue that releasing Predathos could be good, I think it's necessary to have a coherent argument there, and be able to address "what if it's really fucking bad" if we're moving into the realm of the speculative. "What if this change that comes at the end of mass death might be better for the world but I have no proof" is not a very convincing argument. It is, in fact, one of the only ones Bells Hells has made a compelling case against.

[starmaker-astral]

Im currently reading @phoen1xr0se 's 1941 fic (wonderful. Go read it, 3 chapters, around 20K words, every single word definitely worth it)

And apart from the fact that I love how the evening in 1941 is replayed with Crowley POV from the moment he receives the bootleg alcohol (with a glimpse of all his thoughts, why he did this and that etc....), Phoenix gave a meaning for everything that wasn't said in the show and it's really good. It's so coherent and fluid that I might forgetting that it's not even entirely canon. It's sooo pleasant omg.

And obviously the description are so nice and well written you FEEL the story and you can imagine the scenes very smoothly. Even me who have struggles vizualizing stories, it's so comfortable and easy with this one.

But most of all, I love how Phoenix conveyed Aziracrow's vibe: "The world is a mess but we're together and that's what matters"

"You are about to die by the hand of a Naz!"

- "Oh yeah, whatever. Dont interrupt our conversation please thank you... More importantly, dear, what's the J stand for ?"

____________________________________

You Don't Dance - The Story of 1941

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51170593/chapters/129293383

____________________________________

[polydamnory]

EA Spoilers (this will not be very coherent, I am sleep deprived and very excited about this video) 

AHAHAHAHAHAHA I WAS RIGHT!!! IT WAS AVIOR!!! I know a lot of us theorized this but I feel so vindicated!!! Now I can finally design Hush lol 

Okay now to actually react  

Avior sounded so scared and desperate when he basically begged Starlight not to go, and the emphasis on him saying “no, not even for help” gave me war flashbacks to when Caelum got beat up by Vega. Erik can you please stop brutalizing the demons please? 

I’m just imagining Starlight standing off to the side during this, just unmoving in pure shock like “did my boyfriend just get cloned?”

The way you can hear Hush smiling when he says their like brothers he’s so fucking cute!!! 

“One last attempt to make amends.” Okay, just how bad did Min’Ara and E’Laetum specifically fuck up with their experimentations on humans that they still feel this bad about what happened even after literally giving up their lives and physical forms to keep humanity and demonkind safe? I feel like this might be hinting at them having done worse than we know, but it could just also be the baseline guilt of having participated at all (do we even know for a fact that they did tho? I don’t think we were ever told about them specifically participating, and I have yet to see anything written on what specific magic user they created except for Seers by proxy of trying to cure vampirism). 

Unrelated, but it seems Hush and Avior have the same type, and that type is freelancers 

His little “bye!” Oh I’m getting cute aggression!!! 

By the way the transcript specifically says that Hush used transposition to get away, not rifting, just like Blake and D’Deridahn did. And since we know that he’s able to transport Doc with him that way no harm done I feel like I’m right in that transposition didn’t have to hurt Blake when he did it, and D’Deridahn was just being a d’dick 

The voice acting in this one was so fucking good, Erik has always done well in that regard but I feel like this audio in particular just demonstrates how much he's improved on top of that in last four years

[janeyshivers]

i think a big part of the reason why, even when Pratchett was alive, it was always Rowling who was held up as the gold standard of a modern British fantasy author, is that Pratchett was above all else just far more honest about like, The English writ large.

a lot of ink has been spilled on the saccharine nostalgia of Harry Potter books, particularly as they went on, that longing for the WW2 Blitz spirit that Rowling herself didn't actually live through, but is lionised in our culture and was subsequently regurgitated uncritically by her, on account of her being an unimaginative hack. "keep calm and carry on" is the core aesthetic of the later books, while the earlier ones are far more of the sort of irritating, faux-charming, brilliant baffling bouncing Britishness that captured the hearts of teaboos who knew no better around the world, and also presented a highly self-flattering image to the people who have to actually live on this shithole island. this was especially true of cultural institutions such as schools, libararies, etc, who found it germaine to push these middling children's books relentlessly on kids, while massive multimillion dollar movie projects were cranked out, because they were deeply, painfully in love with a cutesy mirage of England that we like to project to the world to cover for the fact that this place is the husk of a dead empire, inhabited by tiny islands of obscene hoarded wealth in an increasingly desperate sea of insane deprivation and poverty.

and on a certain surface-level reading, you could almost accuse Pratchett of doing the same thing. after all, he also wrote whimsical fantasy tales largely set in a transparently England-ish setting (that is, Ankh-Morpork and the surrounding countryside areas on the Discworld). they even feature lots of witches and wizards! his books are full of bumbling, good-natured Englishmen doffing their caps to the lord, scenic countryside vistas, dirty and yet charming city streets, bustling fairs, rascally pickpockets, and generally a lot of the same aesthetic signifiers of Rowling's earlier work especially.

but.

read any amount of Pratchett's stuff and you realise very quickly that he understands that there is a persistent, genuinely violent nastiness underpinning a lot of this stuff. I Shall Wear Midnight is a good example, as the honest, hard-working country folk of the Chalk never even acknowledge the shameful mob killing of the old toothless woman who Tiffany has had to bury. these charming communities are places where well-known cases of domestic violence go unaddressed until a pregnant girl is beaten so badly she has a miscarriage, and they are places where miserable, curtain-twitching sneaks spread lies and rumours with impunity. Guards, Guards! fits here as well, a book about how the not-insincere love of the people of Ankh Morpork for their new king is insane and destructive and ends up getting quite a lot of innocent people killed.

what i appreciate most about how Pratchett talks about this stuff is that neither the nastiness nor the more charming elements are artifice. while they seem to exist as a contradiction at first glance, a core feature of English culture from Pratchett's perspective is that these impulses exist in a tense balance at all times. Mr Petty hits his daughter until she miscarries, and also stings his hands gathering nettles to make a little grave for the poor kid before trying to hang himself. that doesn't make what he did ok, but it does mean grappling with the fact that people are complicated and don't make sense, culture doesn't entirely cohere, and that the things you might like about "Englishness" are part and parcel of some genuinely horrifying shit.

obviously i'm not going to sit here and pretend that Pratchett was some plucky underdog compared to Rowling, the dude had a knighthood, and there are even a few movies based on his stuff (I'm rather partial to the 2008 The Colour of Magic adaptation myself), although nothing on the scale of the Potter movies. but at a glance, it does seem strange that Rowling was our nation's marquis literary export in the 2000s, considering that Pratchett was more established, working in the same genre, and also a significantly more technically skilled and insightful writer than her. but, that's the thing, he was insightful enough that his writing didn't make for decent cultural slop like Rowling's did. Harry Potter is vapid enough for corporate interests and cultural institutions to build a multinational media empire on, not through some insidious conspiracy to poison the minds of a generation of irritating millenials, but because it was there and it was popular enough and it was easy to use, because it's not very complicated or challenging. Discworld is not perfect by any means, and i have my personal disagreements with Pratchett's (relatively) rosy perspective on humans as being fundamentally very decent. but the stories make you think, they encourage you to engage with the world critically, and they are written with a degree of empathy and kindness that clash with any earnest attempt to shore up "English values".

[pleasantspark]

The Last Straw With VivziePop (Why I am no longer supporting Viv.)

Viv knows she's not gonna get a good response from the critical community in the same sense as the fandom is, so why bother? Why don't you ignore everything that doesn't exist in your dopamine fueled bubble, oh wait you can't, you feel the need to constantly look in the critical tags, or even have your fans do your work for you.

It's best to ignore people, because this shits sad, back then you would probably get less eyes on you (probably) but now that you're known and most of your info is out there (alongside your posts being public on a VERY public Insta.) your online shit's gonna bleed in your offline life, I had hopes you'd actually admit fault but this is gone way worse, you cater to the twitter cancel mob too easily, instead of actually writing out a coherent proof filled response you resort to name calling, throwing fits and acting like a child rather then someone in her thirties, your fanbase is out of control because you lead them by the way you act.

They see you as a parasocial mother, and I know you won't see this, but the fact you cannot handle pressure or your own fandom then maybe you don't deserve it at all, you abuse your platform to condone harmful interactions yet it crosses the line that someone asked your VA to sign their work?

You couldn't resist the urge to make fun of someone because your Fandom did, your fandom is responsible for two suicides, an attempted harassment/doxx, aiding Pedos and keeping them hidden in the fandom, you interact with people you claim in your response post as being deplorable (DaniDraws draws in her words "Statuary Rape Art"), you defend fetish art of SA being made as someone whose into CNC it's NOT RAPE it's literally an act of rapeplay it's different from SA as it's consent between both parties beforehand while the other one is a fucking crime, then you defend said artist sexually harassing a minor KNOWING minors are in your fandom, Your friends have weird shit going on with them you surround yourself with people who WILL bring you controversy and people who does things you SAID YOU DIDN'T SUPPORT.

Yet, you still have them around? I am literally done with hearing people make excuses after excuses after EXCUSES for deplorable behavior. It exceeds the amount of word limits I have on twitter. Like what the fuck is your priorities? Feeding into people who actually likes the shit you put out or doing the right thing? Your behavior aligns with Dream. At least Dream had the dignity to stay out of the light after his last response, you continue to hang around people that can only ruin your image further and your behavior and those in your immediate circle has harmed so many people that you ignore it.

I am disappointed, and you won't care as a rando on the internet, but for years now you continue to prove that you can't "take criticism" it's not because you can't Vivienne you won't, just like you won't admit there's a problem with your works, a problem with your fanbase and a very problem with you.

Your hubris is what blinded you, and you're just NOW realizing the effect of the cause you had, I hope to whatever God there is you do actually write a actual good post, admitting to everything you did in the past, including Dollcreep and the past ZooPhobia shit, because this shits never ending because your behavior is repetitive and people are just now realizing it and are tired.

I am just done supporting and giving the benefit of the doubt to people who forces others to essentially make people forgive you, you can't forgive Viv if you're not the group harmed by her. People are quick to accept whatever BS she says and this shit's borderline Slander and Libel at this rate.

2025. Do better.

[beantothemax]

This au is a parasite on my noggin....

What a small girl. She looked weaker than any kid Godot had ever seen. Dark bags under her eyes and she was a mess. Her hair was supposedly straight but after days of hiding in bushes and hardly surviving at all, he didn't blame her for her hair resembling a rat's nest.

And gods, she shouldn't even have been there. She should have been with a family member being cared for by loving hands, not at her papa's trial. Such a young child, she had done nothing to deserve that.

Of everyone in the office, the girl seemed to fear Godot most. Again, he couldn't blame her. His mask was odd and he wasn't the most friendly looking man out there.

Still, it was important she trusted him. Hesitantly, he removed his mask and lay it aside. The world was a horribly dark blur without it, but he could tolerate not seeing for just a little bit, just long enough to talk to her.

He knelt in front of her chair, carefully grabbing one of her hands.

"Are you ready, Elena?" he asked as carefully as he could.

"No," her tiny voice squeaked.

"It will be okay, lady Clarissa will hold your hand and she'll stand next to you. No one can hurt you up there."

"What about Harvey?"

"There's twenty guards and Clarissa is just as good at magic as your papa, they'll all protect you and you won't even get scratched!" Godot smiled as he said it.

He could only hope his words had calmed her for he could not see her face. He sat beside her and she asked every question she could think of about the trial.

Will they listen to me? What about papa? Would they take papa away? Can I hug papa?

"Why do you have a scar on your face?" she finally asked.

Oh. That.

Godot never done much to hide it for he never saw it himself, but it was still there. Just under his left eye, going diagonally up and ending at his hairline above his brow. He could only imagine it made him look scarier, but it wasn't as bad as that accursed mask.

"I knew a girl called Maya. She was very special, a lot like you. Someone tried to hurt her, but I protected her," he explained.

"So they hurt you instead?" Elena muttered.

Not because it was him specifically, but she wasn't wrong.

"Yes, they did. But I survived and I'm fine now, and what's more important is that Maya is too!" he smiled.

Elena stayed silent for too long. He wanted so desperately to now if he had said something wrong but the accursed poison that ruined his eyes couldn't make an exception just this once. He was left wondering.

"Will they hurt lady Clarissa?" she whispered.

Who knows. It was anyone's guess really. She might get hurt shielding Elena or Harvey might try to kill her for being so close to Osvald. Perhaps even the townspeople might hurt her, thinking she was an accomplice to the crime, whatever it was. There were so many ways lady Clarissa could get hurt.

"They won't. I'll make sure you both come out unscathed, I promise," he said firmly.

...

...

...

Again, that dammed unreadable silence. How he cursed Dahlia, cursed the day she took not only his years of his life but his appearance. He once looked normal, he once had eyes that didn't need a mask to see. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he did not scare people by merely existing.

...

"You're right. No one will hurt us if they know how strong you are!" Elena said, an odd sound at the end of her sentence.

A chuckle.

She wasn't scared.

The door opened and a guard ushered them inside the courtroom. Dozens of spectators watched their every move as they entered. Godot took his place, and with his mask back on, he could see Elena and Clarissa wait by the entrance. She held her head up high and tightly clutched Clarissa's hand. What a brave young girl she was, not daring to show how scared she was in a court of law.

...

He absolutely could not get the guilty verdict, no matter what it cost. Elena didn't need to be strong, she needed her papa.

TURNABOUT SCHOLARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

elena being so brave entering the courtroom…godot taking off his mask when he talks to elena so she isn’t scared…….. weh,,,,,,,,,, pie the power you now hold with being able to write about godot now……

[sesamestreep]

sexy himbo jock interpretations of James Tiberius Kirk are silly and do a disservice to the character for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that it fundamentally ignores all the times in canon when Kirk is faced with a scientific discovery or oddity and you can see the effort it takes for him not to clap and skip with excitement. like in ‘the devil in the dark’ when Spock posits that they might be dealing with a silicon based life form and McCoy’s like “but that’s impossible!” and Kirk literally crosses the room to flirt talk excitedly with Spock about the prospect and how it could work! and what it would mean!

What I’m saying is, Kirk’s gotta be smart and a huge dork because how else could he pull a bad autistic bitch like Spock?

[bonescribes]

it's important to remember that simon got his reputation as a master manipulator before he went to prison. people know him as a prosecutor who has the entire courtroom wrapped around his finger, meaning he has to have earned that reputation before ur-1. yknow, when he was actually prosecuting.

it's an interesting thing to think about when he was described as kind/gentle/polite. i envision a younger simon as someone who didn't intimidate others, and instead got what he wanted through power of suggestion & other psychology techniques. ( we see this behavior a bit in aa5 also, but he relies a lot more on intimidation, which like ... as well he should, bro is scary )

furthermore, i think envisioning him as the sort of person to leverage his own gentle personality to psychologically influence others really lends credence to his decision to completely alter that personality and cover it with a new one in order to convince the world he was a murderer.

[billiuspendragon]

Akechi would probably get really low marks on his essays at school (if the way they're marked is anything like how they were marked in my school anyway) despite being well-read and knowing about the source material.

He would reach the word count easily, but I think he'd have trouble staying on topic and would ramble about irrelevant details. Idk about other schools but in mine you'd get marked down for exceeding the word limit, which is definitely a problem he would run into. I think he'd find it hard to make the essay read well from beginning to end with a conclusion and everything.

[ruporas]

i've been wondering- what do you think of vash and ww's relationship to pain? do u have any thoughts on it??

cuz i was just thinking like. obviously they're both extremely resilient and don't care much if they get hurt in the process of achieving whatever, but like... as for the pain specifically, i have to wonder.

cuz i'm reading trimax for the first time and toward the end of the sand steamer mess kite basically asks if vash even feels pain. and i mean... he has to, since not that long ago he just hit the floor with a dramatic blood splatter lmao. but like.

is he just suppressing visible reactions? or does he just not feel pain unless it's above a certain level?

and i wanna know about ww too if you have thoughts, i just haven't gotten that far in trimax :')

forgive me if my wording is all over the place, i havent been very elegant in my words Lately, but i am always down to talk about specific shit involving vash and wolfwood,

if we're just talking physical pain, yeah, i think they feel pain normally!

For Vash, he is the master of repression throughout Trimax, so I think naturally, he keeps a strong face no matter the level of hurt, whether on the outside or inner. It's just in his nature to not allow others to worry about him by pulling through with a fake smile or in some cases, he feels like he deserves the pain inflicted on him so even if he's getting pulverized to shit or threatened against his life, he'd default to a silence as opposed to screaming in agony that might make people think he isn't feeling anything. It's probably also second nature for him to no longer yelp or cry at pain after the amount of years he's spent getting hurt, but i think this only applies if he isn't emotionally involved in a fight (which is rare, but it happens in ch. 38).

In terms of physical pain, he seems to feel it like how regular humans do. I've thrown together some examples where he goes owchie owchie owchie that aren't too spoilery:

The Emilio scene is kind of why I don't think he's just playing up the theatrics of feeling pain, though I do think he would on some occasion, especially since he roleplays with children all the time. Verbally saying "ow ow ow" could potentially be an instinctive reaction too or maybe a source of comfort. But yeah!! I think Vash has always been able to feel pain and it's not like being a plant has lessen his ability to do so. Any resilience built is tacked on due to him being alive for 100 years and being a guy with a clear painted bullseye on his entire figure that ends up getting him shot and scarred.

In the end, the pain that gets to Vash the most will always be on an emotional level rather than physical, but Vash is such a genuine person and so present when it comes to other people that even if it's a pain he can take, it'll still hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

For Wolfwood; I think in general, those under the Eye of Michael have a strong resilience to dealing with pain due to the regen potions and the amount of training forced on them. I don't think we ever get the full description of what exactly those in EoM endured throughout their younger years, but we saw WW get shot at an early age in chapter 12 and we can assume it happened more than once. Over and over again until he won't even flinch against it just like how killing without hesitation was attempted to be drilled into him. I don't really know how it works scientifically… but I fully believe that he's mostly numbed to the physical sensation of it and it's the psychological part that gets to him more. Wolfwood himself is a naturally skilled fighter too, not that that really has anything to do with his dealing with pain, but I think his focus and attention on a battle and his stubbornness to win kicks an adrenaline that allows him to ignore the pain.

Though, his body also gets sore and tired just like any regular human does and there's this instance where he goes owie too:

(While NOT as much as Tristamp WW does where he's cracking a cold one every goddamn minute, I do think Trimax WW has gotten used to taking regen pots and thus, can afford to be careless and not give a damn.)

So, physically, technically in canon, they don't really have anything that specially makes either of them unable to feel pain, but just as you said, they're incredibly resilient. And ultimately, the both of them are affected emotionally/psychologically that hurts them more than the physical aspect of it, considering how physical pain is almost a daily chore for them to deal with (Vash being hunted for sport for majority of his life + Wolfwood being involved in experiments/killings for majority of his life.)

I think Trigun in general, while showing physical pain being a strong factor of hurt for regular people like us constantly seeing civiilians get beat up or shot, it tends to boil down to the multiple varieties of pain when it comes to those who deal with physical pain often (Gung Hos, Vash, EoM members).

I didn't know where to put these comments but here are extra thoughts:

They're both evidently really good at hiding their pains or any mark of vulnerability. They both could have a hole in their chest and go days without anyone else noticing so long it isn't killing them.

They're both pretty reckless during battle, but I think for Vash, he already tries to avoid violence at all cost and thus, do in a roundabout way lessen his own chance of getting hit in hoping to not stir that violence against another. As a result, I think Wolfwood can be way more reckless and ends up getting hurt more unnecessarily as a result of it.

They both are capable of healing at quick rates so I'm sure that allows the pain to feel more temporary, less of a risk to sustain, and to further hone in not caring too much about getting shot. That only applies for themselves individually though because every time they see each other get hurt, they're always so so worried despite knowing the other will be fine.

i'm pretty sure i repeated myself like 800 times, but i hope this Answered the question SFGMSDKGSMDKH i also tried to be vague enough in my wordings and focus only on the beginning-ish of trimax so to not spoil! i hope u enjoy ur reading of it!!

[sskk-manifesto]

:)

[wander-wren]

hi, calling all fanfic writers and readers and also people who have Made Videos for a little help with a potential project.

disclaimer: this is, as i said, very potential and still in the Shiny New Idea stage, i’m trying to determine feasibility at the moment.

so, you know speedpaints, right? as in, timelapsed drawing video with music or narration laid over it. consider the same thing, but with writing.

(the tentative term at the moment is speedfic, which has some precedent being used this way, because speedwriting means something else. but i digress)

the idea is that i would post timelapsed videos of me writing short fics and explain my process, probably focusing on specific elements like worldbuilding, character voice, plot, etc. i could also talk about planning, editing, and maybe some other general fanfiction topics.

this leads me to several questions. the main one, of course, is “would anyone else even be interested in this sort of thing?”

but assuming that answer is yes—there are some logistical issues inherent in doing this with words that aren’t caused by doing this with art, namely the “speed” and “narration” bits, and lots of other fiddly little things.

so i guess i’m just asking what writers/readers would want from a project like this, any preferences as far as video structure/length/content, just anything, really. before i go chasing the Shiny New Thing, i want to know if it’s worth it

[violexides]

last night i finished my "rewatch" of SDR2 and i do have a lot of thoughts specifically when comparing the different strengths and weaknesses of THH and SDR2 however for the sake of time (i have to leave for class soon) one thing i will say is that getting older and a hiatus did not, in fact, make me any less in love with komaeda nagito's character.

[brick-van-dyke]

I'm not very far through it, but 'The Library of Broken Worlds' by Alaya Dawn Johnson is delightfully new and inspiring.

Maybe this is a little pessimistic to say, but I always figured that most stories have already been told to some degree, in the sense that we will all inevitably write using a pre-existing archetype in world building regardless of if we intend to, and only different variations on these archetypes were left to tell, but this book is proving me wrong left and right; showing a world that is so thoroughly unique and beautiful in its creativity and world building that I can't help but reevaluate that mentality. I have yet to know more of the story or the overall theme, but so far this book has proven to be wonderfully delightful in its handling of a whole new and distant world and incredibly original. It's written in such a compelling way that reveals its lore and rules spectacularly and uses a very unique method of writing that, while has been done before, feels fresh in its delivery. It's one thing to tell a story, but another to tell it to a god. I highly recommend it even if I'm only going from the first one and a half chapters; that was all it took for this book to blow me away.