#yes the plot is used to oblivion

[naluwalker]

Once again he has poisoned me with ideas

Brother, why are you so mean to me? If you know that I don't really have much desire to write, especially not with this fandom.

So, Naruto x Genshin Impact AU, including Zhongli Jiejie x Boy Taru ZhongChi.

So after the whole Tsarista VS Celestia mess and the traveler and they sibling taking off outside of Teyvat, Tartaglia has achieved godhood out of sheer spite and is enjoying an incredible married life with Zhongli (male at this point), where despite having retired from Fatui himself, he dates, travels and fights to his heart's content.

One day he comes up with the wonderful idea of leaving Teyvat in a similar way to the Traveler and going on a second honeymoon with his husband somewhere in the multiverse, and after much effort, he has convinced his husband that his idea is incredible and they should do it.

Many hijinks later, they end up in Naruto's world. Zhongli (at that time Zhongli-jiejie, because I consider him gender fluid) and Tartaglia, or rather Ajax, land in Uzushiogakure where they are received as a kind of divine envoy and stay there for a few decades, and then say goodbye to travel further afield from the Shinobi Continent.

For this reason, unfortunately they cannot help during the fall of the village and the news reaches them almost half a year after the event, that's how far away they were.

Anyway, they both continue traveling until they finally stay in the Snow Country for a while due to Ajax's nostalgia for Snezhnaya. There they meet Minato who is on a diplomatic mission as Hokage and mistakes Ajax for an Uzumaki and extends an invitation to Konoha. Zhongli and Ajax decide to think about it.

Unfortunately while Zhongli and Ajax are traveling to Konoha, the Kyūbi occurs. By the time they arrive, two weeks have passed, Minato and his wife are dead, and the village is in very bad condition. While investigating what happened, Ajax learns everything and also about Naruto's existence and what the villagers think of him. He gets pretty pissed off, because he lived for decades with the Uzumaki and learned the difference between container and content, so he again convinces his spouse that infiltrating the village and taking care of the child of the deceased Hokage and his wife is an incredible idea.

Zhongli, Prime of Adepti, decides to follow his mischievous spouse and begins to modify some memories and falsify papers so that their move took place a little before the Kyūbi and they were already there during the event.

They pose as a somewhat eccentric marriage of a half-Uzumaki and a woman from outside the continent, Zhongli again begins to work in a funeral home as a consultant and Ajax throws himself into the life of a merchant and mercenary.

Anyway, knowing that they couldn't approach Naruto in plain sight due to the Hokage's ban, Zhongli begins to approach Naruto when the orphanage's nannies and the ANBU neglect him (which is often) and he dedicates himself to taking care of him.

Feeding, diaper cleaning, sleep and "maternal" care, Zhongli takes care of everything. Naruto, despite the orphanage's nannies, is a cheerful and well-cared for child. You are not neglected or malnourished and your room is starting to look incredibly stylish. Rumors of a ghost begin, especially when the boy starts saying "Mommy" into the air.

All thanks to Zhongli making everyone "forget" about his existence, even when he is next to a shinobi, to the point that he is invisible to everyone around him. Ajax laughs his butt off on the other side of the village when the Hokage himself visits to see the ghost and ends up mistaking it for Kushina.

By the time Naruto is five years old, and the Hokage gives him his own apartment, he begins to spend less time in it unless it is his allowance day. The rest of the time he spends with Zhongli and Ajax, whom he sees as his parents despite knowing that they are not. The Hokage is unaware of this until years later when Kakashi informs him of this when he accidentally sees it.

The rest of the time it's married shenanigans as they take care of a child and prepare him to be a powerhouse while gleefully mocking the Hokage and his shinobi.

Anyway, the plot of Naruto being cared for by different characters from other worlds is something that has been seen and read in hundreds of other fanfics, but I have never seen one from Genshin, so here we are.

I've been obsessed with Zhongli-jiejie turning off the lights on BoyTaru for a couple of weeks, so we're implementing it here. So in fact, yes it is a ZhongChi, no, I don't want to change it Jedny, don't make me repeat it.

PS: Does anyone want to adopt this? I really don't feel like writing

[topgun-imagines]

Permanent State of Oblivion

Requested: yes

Summary: Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the Hard Deck.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: drinking, arguments, angsty feelings.

Pairings: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader

“I just- I don’t know what to do about him, Nat.” You were seated across from Natasha on her bed, hand in hers as she worked on your nails. One well-kept secret about Phoenix was that she was incredibly talented in nail art; a secret that you regularly capitalized on as her best friend. She often used you for practice, like she was doing right now. Silently, the pilot nodded, used to your ranting about Bradley by now. “He’s just so- so oblivious.”

Unbeknownst to Bradley, you’d had a massive crush on him for months. You had been friends with the mustached pilot for nearly three years. He was an amazing friend, and in that department, you couldn’t ask for more. The only issue that you had was that apparently, Bradley was blinder than a bat. No matter how hard you tried or how obvious you made it, Bradley never picked up on your crush on him.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind that your feelings remained a secret, however; your feelings had reached the point where you knew they weren’t going away anytime soon. The only option left was to try and tell Bradley how you felt.

Painting one of the roses on your nails, Nat weighed in on the situation. “He’s an idiot.” Her choice of words had you stifling a giggle, receiving a playful glare when your hand twitched. You murmured an apology as she continued. “The only way he’s gonna realize how you feel is if you’re straightforward about it.”

A groan bubbled out of your chest. You hated confrontation. Surely if Bradley was smart enough to be in the top one percent of all naval aviators, he was smart enough to realize your feelings for him. Right?

“I know, I know,” You started, “I just wish he could open his eyes for once.”

“Maybe if he shut his mouth for once his eyes would have some room to work,” Phoenix muttered, knowing exactly how stubborn the pilot was. The two of you descended into giggles as Natasha finished off your nails.

Before you knew it, the two of you were in your car, blasting music as you drove to the hard deck. Jake had organized a night out for the group, and the two of you certainly weren’t ones to pass on a fun night out with friends. As Natasha hadn’t hesitated to point out, maybe you would finally get the chance to tell Bradley how you felt.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked beside Jake’s truck. The two of you hopped out and headed into the bar, already plotting what interesting drink orders you could try and get Penny to make this time. The second you stepped into the bar, you were greeted loudly by the group of aviators. With large smiles, you and Phoenix joined the group and were quickly pulled into whatever idiotic story Jake was telling. Unsurprisingly, your eyes quickly found Bradley.

Phoenix pretended that she couldn’t see how your stare lingered on your coworker. While you knew that Phoenix knew, you were oblivious to the fact that Jake and Bob had also figured out your little secret. Natasha forbade them from saying anything or trying to persuade Bradley into doing anything stupid. God only knows that if they told that fool to make a move on you he’d find some way to mess it up.

As Jake rambled on about some hilarious incident from his recent vacation back in Texas, you couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if you told Bradley the truth. Honestly, you were tired of wasting time. You didn’t want to miss out on anything anymore. Even if Bradley didn’t feel the same, you needed to know. At least then you would be able to move on knowing that nothing could ever happen between the two of you.

Natasha’s elbow in your side pulled you out of your depressing thoughts. She fixed you with a knowing look, leaning over to whisper in your ear as the rest of the group dispersed at the end of Jake's story. “Tell him,” she urged you quietly. “We both know that he’ll never figure it out on his own.” And with that, you mustered up all the courage that you could before disappearing into the crowd to find Bradley.

Suddenly, Bob and Jake popped up over Natasha’s shoulder. “Twenty bucks says the dumbass still finds a way to screw it up.” Bob and Natasha hummed in agreement.

By the bar top, you were just about to call out to Penny to ask where Bradley was when you spotted it; a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt and a pornstache that could put all the rest to shame. It took a couple of minutes of maneuvering through the intoxicated crowd, but eventually, you were standing right behind him. At the soft tap on his shoulder, Bradley spun quickly, surprised to find you standing there.

“Hey Bradshaw,” you started, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He nodded for you to continue. “I just wanted to tell you that-” Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by some blonde winding her arms around his shoulders and peppering kisses up the side of his neck. Your words died in your throat as you started at the scene in front of you. Bradley didn’t even try to push her off. You felt sick to your stomach.

Noticing the tears welling in your eyes, the blonde smirked. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She sounded innocent, as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing by trailing her finger across his chest and sucking a mark into the skin of his neck. You could only shake your head, feeling bile rise in your throat. The room suddenly seemed hot; you were desperate to find a way out of there. Before you knew it, you were shoving your way through the crowd and out the door of the bar.

With the blonde still clinging to his side, Bradley looked around the room in confusion. He met Natasha’s stern gaze and instantly knew that he had screwed it up somehow. Bradley huffed and pushed the blonde off of him, rolling his eyes at the scoff she let out. Then he was following after you, leaving the chaos of the bar behind him as he chased you into the parking lot. “Hey!” He called out, hand grasping your wrist. “What the hell is your problem?”

You jerked your wrist out of his hand and spun to face him angrily. Your face was hot with anger and Bradley could have sworn he saw steam coming from your ears. Despite all this, he could see tears welling in your eyes. “My problem?” You seethed, stepping dangerously close to him and jabbing a finger into his chest. “My problem, Bradshaw, is that you’re ignorant enough to let that- that slut hang off your arm without a care in the world!”

It killed you to see him standing there with her, but what was worse than all of that, was the fact that he didn’t care in the slightest. It’s not like she was someone he was seeing; she was just a random face in the bar. Somehow, that made things worse to bear.

Bradley scoffed and dismissively shoved your finger away from his chest. “Why the fuck do you care?” You could only stare at him, searching for the words he wanted to hear. “That chick had nothing to do with you, and you know that so what the fuck is your problem?” He paused, his words cutting deep as you searched for a response.

Behind him, the bar door opened revealing Jake, Bob, and Natasha. They watched silently as you continued to rip into each other.

“You know what, you fucking dick?” You were close to him once more; so close that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You are the most ignorant, self-absorbed person I have ever met.” With each accusation, you drove your finger into his chest harder, despite his attempts at brushing it off. “You are so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you don’t even notice who you’re hurting!”

You had never spoken to him like this before. Sure, there had been little arguments here and there, but the rage that he saw in your eyes now was something new entirely. A single, angry tear dripped down your face. “You don’t think about anyone besides yourself! You certainly don’t care about them. And believe me, Bradshaw, you have made that more than obvious.”

The pilot in front of you scoffed once more, having no retort for your deep jab at his character. Of course, he cared for the people around him, and for you to suggest otherwise was, in his mind, unfathomable.

However, you didn’t stop there. “You are absolutely unbelievable! You are so oblivious it’s painful, Bradshaw. You must have your head stuck up your ass to miss every single hint I’ve been giving you for months!” You paused for a moment, waiting for Bradley to interject.

He didn’t, refusing to believe anything you said to be true. There was no way that you could have feelings for him. Was there?

He shook his head in annoyance. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he pointed out, hating how easily you were able to sidestep it. “Why the fuck do you care who I flirt with?” His voice was loud, even scaring those watching from the front steps of the bar. Bradley figured that you were probably having a bad day and had taken your anger out on him. Even though he hoped that this wasn’t the case and that you actually did care about who was flirting with him. It was wishful thinking; to imagine that you would ever see him as anything more than an annoying friend. He was sure of it.

You could only groan angrily with tears still tracking down your skin. “Jesus, Bradshaw, because I love you, you fucking idiot!” It was as if time stood still. That was what it felt like as you watched Bradley process the reality of the words that you had just shouted at him. No movement came from the pilot in front of you; the only sign of life being the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. There was no way it could be true. There was no way that a kind-hearted, sweet girl like yourself could ever fall for anyone as messed up as him. To Bradley, the mere idea of you having feelings for him was unfathomable.

For months, he had watched you from afar, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He slowly began to learn what you loved, from your favourite song to sing along to when you were drunk at 2 am to your favourite flavour of ice cream. Bradley learned what made you laugh until your stomach hurt and what made you cry until your cheeks were stained. He knew every little thing about you but he never acted on it, in fear that you would never feel the same. To know that all this time, you had feelings for him as well, was surreal.

The deafening silence grew between the two of you, moving until it encompassed the bystanders waiting in front of the bar with bated breath. Continuing to stare at the pilot, your mind was running a million miles a minute. What had you just done? Sure, the two of you were arguing, but that was no reason to bear your true feelings to the man. What if he didn’t feel the same? You were convinced that this had to be the case when he refused to move a muscle.

“Bradley,” you whispered, nerves showing through the shake in your voice. “Please, say something.” Your mind plagued you with thoughts of the worst-case scenario. You were fully expecting him to turn around and storm off, refusing to ever speak to you again. With tears filling your eyes once more, you pleaded one last time. “Bradl-”

Your eyes widened as Bradley cut you off in a way you would have never expected. In one fluid, sudden motion, Bradley had lunged toward you, his lips moulding softly with yours. His hands cradled your waist, holding you as if you were a delicate flower. You could have sworn you heard yourself squeak but honestly, you were too overwhelmed to tell.

As Bradley continued to kiss you gently, your eyes fluttered shut. You became lost in the feeling of his hand caressing your side. His pinky finger slipped under the hem of your top, drawing a light gasp from your lips. The kiss deepened as Bradley pulled you towards him by your waist and as your hand worked into his soft curls at the base of his neck.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips as that familiar pornstache that you were used to making fun of was now tickling your upper lip. The pilot smiled into the kiss at the feeling, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours lovingly mere seconds later. “Does that answer your question?” He whispered, causing more giggles to flow from your mouth. You could only nod, still starstruck by the actions of the man holding you.

For the second time this evening, you were close enough to the pilot that you were able to smell his breath. While the faint scent of alcohol was still present, you were now able to pick up the familiar scent of your strawberry lip gloss. One glance at his parted lips was enough for you to see the slight pink hue that your lip gloss caused him.

There was a lovestruck smile on his face; a stark contrast to the anger shining in his eyes merely twenty minutes ago. Admiration shone in his eyes as he looked down at you. While he knew that he never stated it clearly, he was in awe of the wonderful woman that you were. As he thought about how perfect you were, guilt for the way he spoke to you before began to eat at him.

He cleared his throat, needing to make amends for his actions. “Seriously, though,” He started, eyes softening as he recalled the events from earlier. “I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. What I said was completely uncalled for and out of line.” The corners of your mouth twitched up in a forgiving smile as you reached up to stroke the corner of his mustache with your thumb. Bradley wrapped you up in his arms, rocking the two of you softly. “I love you so, so much, baby girl.”

Your hand trailed from his soft cheek to the back of his neck as he shifted the two of you, fingers once again threading through the short curls. Warm, ocean air breezed past the two of you as Bradley held you close. Behind you, the sun was setting beautifully over the ocean. It painted the parking lot with a soft, pink glow. No matter how many sunsets you had seen before, for some reason, this one was the most beautiful. It was almost as if the beauty of the sunset reflected your feelings for each other. Despite the rocky road that it took you to get here, no moment had ever seemed as perfect as this one.

Unsurprisingly, your moment of bliss was quickly interrupted by the other aviators waiting at the steps of the bar. Your friends gradually made their way closer, unable to contain their questions and comments any longer. You felt Bradley sigh into the skin of your neck before he kissed it softly, causing butterflies to swarm in your chest. With your head still tucked into his chest, you felt a blush begin to creep up your neck at the realization that your friends had likely watched the whole event unfold. Despite the flush in your cheeks, you still made eye contact with each of them, dreading the inevitable bombardment of questions that were bound to come.

Even as you stood in front of your friends, ready to explain the rollercoaster of a scene they just witnessed, Bradley’s arms remained wound around your waist. His thumb moved over the bare skin of your side softly, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “No need to explain.” Nat offered with a reassuring smile. She could sense that you were hesitant to have to explain it all so quickly. Plus, she knew that she would get the details soon enough.

Together, Bob, Jake, and Nat offered you their congratulations before turning to head back to the bar. With his arm still around your waist, you and Bradley follow your friends in sync with each other. Your still-rosy cheek rested against his broad shoulder.

Jake wasted no time in collecting his winnings from the previous bet, pumping his fist in the air as Bob and Nat each handed Jake a 20. In the back of your mind, you briefly wonder why they handed him the cash in the first place. Once the five of you re-entered the air-conditioned comfort of the bar, Jake turned to you and Bradley, announcing that drinks were on him with that familiar, shit-eating grin on his face. That alone should have been enough to tell you that there was more to the story than you suspected.

Despite the weariness in both yours and Bradley’s minds, if Jake was offering to buy your drinks, who were you to turn it down? Just as you were about to take a sip of your beer, Bob piped up. “He bet you’d screw it up,” He quipped, grinning at the mixture of betrayal and shock written on Jake’s face that instantly took over his previous cocky expression. Within seconds Bradley had smacked his arm. While he was slightly annoyed that Jake had bet against him, he was more upset about the fact that he allowed Jake to win.

Bob and Phoenix continued to laugh at Jake’s dejected expression as you and Bradley watched fondly. The aviator pulled you into his side with gentle movements and your head fell onto his shoulder the second you were snuggled up against him.

In a state of bliss, you allowed your eyes to slip shut. You could only savour the feeling of being held in the arms of the man you loved. Tucked into Bradley’s side, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Turning his head, Bradley pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, which caused a glowing smile to blossom on your face. A giggle escaped you at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, leading to a smile mirroring your own taking over his sculpted features.

Sure, it had been a rocky road to get here, but you would do it all over again if it meant feeling like this for a moment longer. You loved Bradley, and it brought you more relief than one could ever imagine to know that he felt the same for you.

Simply put, you were ecstatic. Ecstatic that you no longer had to keep your feelings a secret. Ecstatic that you could see a future blossoming between you and Bradley. Despite not knowing what that future held, you were positive that you and Bradley would be together for a long, long time to come.

However, one thing was for certain; Bradley Bradshaw was the most oblivious man you knew.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. I’m excited to be back <3

[nervouseden]

God Among Men.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: After a stressful mission, your super soldier boyfriend needs you... This is literal trash. I apologize.

Warnings: SMUT. Brief mention of religious stuff. Worshipping. Misuse of religious terms. Collar and leash (it's really only mentioned like once or twice). Gender neutral reader. Blowjob. Face fucking. Finger sucking. Bucky Barnes (he's a warning). Metal arm (kink). A tad bit of hair pulling. Rough blowjob. Reader isn't the best at communicating. Praise. Some brief degradation. Voice kink (because who couldn't love that sweet baritone?). Brief mention of Shuri and Wakanda. Sir kink. Tears. Choking (from bj). Deep throating. Dom Bucky. Sub reader. Bucky's kinda rough. But also super sweet and concerned. Use of safe signal(?) like a safe word but nonverbal. Brief after care. Loosely Implied fingering/penetration afterwards. Like zero plot. Porn without Plot/Plot? What plot? Mildly dubious consent (not really, but I just want to be safe with my warnings!)

Please comment if you think I missed anything!

A/N: This is like my second or third time writing actual smut, please give me grace— Also I had this idea while sleep deprived and I'm currently stuck in artists/writers block so it's probably not my best work. But, I tried. This was written on my phone and not proofread, so I do apologize for any and all mistakes/typos.

A/N #2: I have absolutely nothing against any religions or religious people, and this is not meant to offend or target anybody in any way, shape, or form!

I do not own any characters mentioned in this story or the gif.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

18+!!! MINORS AND PEARL CLUTCHERS PLEASE DNI!!!

You were never a very religious person, having loose beliefs that you didn't necessarily align with anything specific, and you were fine with that, but that all changed one day, and in the way you least expected it. The day you first hooked up with Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, or, as you knew him, Bucky, your best friend. You swear that night you might've been to Heaven, or Valhalla, or maybe even reached Nirvana, but whatever it was, it was caused by the super soldier Avenger fucking you into oblivion, with a godly body and otherworldly skills. Not only does he look like some mythical god, but he has the skills and the strength of one too. A god among men.

Bucky is a complicated man; He doesn't talk much, but once you get him going, he could talk to you for hours. He is tall and broad, dark and brooding, with a glare that could kill, but also sweet and soft, caring and considerate, with a smile that makes you weak in the knees... So, when your relationship evolved into something sexual, it wasn't a surprise when his prowess matched his godly looks. His quick wit matched by his skilled tongue. Strong hands matched with his (surprisingly) nimble fingers. He's also a kinky mother fucker.

Today, after Bucky got back from a rough, week long mission, apparently most of the team getting their asses kicked, you found yourself on your knees in front of him, naked, wearing nothing back a black leather collar and a silver chainlink leash, your head resting on his lap as he gently pets your cheek with his flesh hand.

"Doll," Bucky's voice is low, lower than usual, and it sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, shocking your core.

"Yes, sir?" Your voice is soft, quiet, and shaky, a mix of nervousness, arousal, and hours of teasing from this man, this god, making you weak, your voice a minute version of it's usual sound, making Bucky chuckle.

You look up at him through heavy eyelids, your eyes raking up his body hungrily; He's wearing black sweatpants, no shirt, and you're not entirely sure about boxers. His long hair is tousled, the dark locks resting on his broad shoulders, the otherworldly muscles rippling under his skin covered in scars, his normally bright blue eyes darkened to an almost eerie tungsten blue. He's a literal god. The epitome of divinity.

"You've been so good~" Bucky practically purrs, and you already feel your abdomen tightening. "But not good enough."

Well shit.

You're definitely not getting what you want tonight.

"Talk to me, Kätzchen. Tell me what you're thinkin' about." You hesitate, but you know better than to directly disobey.

"I..." You look down, biting your lip. "I was thinking about you... H-How beautiful you are, James..."

Bucky smirks. This wasn't what he was expecting. "Oh?"

You simply nod. "Do elaborate, Kätzchen." Bucky quirks a brow, and you fight the urge to squirm in embarrassment.

"Y-You..." You sigh, deciding to bite the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? He laughs at you and uses it against you? That'd suck... but it would be a lot worse if you didn't speak. Those are always back. You don't want another spanking...and definitely not the crop. Yeah, no, that'd be bad. Better spit it out.

"You're fuckin' beautiful..." You practically whimper, and Bucky smirks.

"I know you've got more than that, sweetness." Bucky teases, and you know he's right. He's always right... It's unfair. How can a man possibly be so attractive and smart? You're starting to think he might actually be a higher power. "C'mon, doll, don't make me hit it outta ya."

Shit. That's a threat. "You're... You're a god among men, Sir... Divinity in itself... Crafted from the finest of marbles known to man... I want to submit everything I have to you."

Bucky simply smirks.

Uh oh.

"Is that so, Kätzchen?" You swallow hard, nodding, watching his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that could burn you to the ground. Yup. Definitely a god.

"Y-Yes, Sir... I... You are my god, James..." Oops. Normally Bucky doesn't take kindly to being called his name during scenes, but for some reason, he just smirks and lets it slide. That's different.

"I want my body to be your altar, your temple, your church... I am your devotee..." You whisper softly, your voice shaky and almost nervous, scared, although you're unsure what you're scared of.

"Darling..." Bucky growls, his pupils dilated so much you can barely see the ring of blue, his vibranium hand clenching on lap, his breathing picking up, that beautiful, chiseled chest rising and falling faster by the second, sweat starting to bead on his skin... You did that?

"You have such pretty lips, yet such nasty words..."

Bucky's Vibranium hand moves to the back of your neck suddenly, grabbing you by the nape of it, pushing your face into his clothed crotch, allowing you to feel the feverish heat, the wet spot on his sweats, and the rock that is his cock. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep sayin' shit like that, doll."

You whimper. Loudly. Pathetically. Lewdly. What the fuck else are you supposed to do? You just mentally brought THE Sargeant James Barnes to his knees from just a few sentences, you don't know whether to be terrified or proud... But, either way, you're not given much time to decipher how you feel, as Bucky starts to rub the side of your cheek against his strained length, the rough cotton of his sweatpants irritating your sweat shined cheeks.

"You're gonna be a good little devotee. You're gonna listen, you're gonna do as told, and you're gonna take what I give you, like a good cock slut."

Bucky's voice is a deep, dangerous growl, the sound rumbling through his chest, rolling down his abdomen and vibrating through him and into you, shooting electricity through your body, your nerves immediately on fire, your thighs quaking, your mind reeling into the abyss of lust.

"Aren't you, Kätzchen?" Bucky says with a groan, looking at you expectantly, a dark smirk on his face.

"Y-Yes, Sir... I will... I'll b-be good..." You whimper out, look up at him with doe eyes, fighting the urge to look down as he slides his sweatpants to his ankles, tossing them aside.

Bucky gently cups your chin with his vibranium hand, the dark metal shining in the dimly lit room as he puts his thumb against your lips, grinning at the feeling. "Open."

You immediately do as told, parting your lips, slowly swirling your warm tongue around his thumb as he slides the cool metal into your mouth, causing Bucky to groan sorry... It's moments like these when Bucky is most grateful to Shuri for creating touch sensors in the arm, allowing him to feel everything you do to his Vibranium arm... Wakandan technology truly is incredible.

"That's a good little whore..." Bucky groans as he uses his thumb in your mouth to tilt your head down, your eyes widening as they meet the sight of Bucky's cock.

Huh. He wasn't wearing any boxers.

"Let this be your first sacrament, devotee." Bucky chuckled.

Long. Impressive. Intimidating. Yet another reason you're starting to think he might actually be a god. No matter how many times you see it, swallow it, and take it, it's always just as intimidating as the first time. His cock is tall, curving slightly as it goes up, getting redder until it gets to the almost purple tip, your hand barely able to wrap around the girth, one large vein going from the shaft to the tip, where creamy pre-cum is beading. You might as well be salivating...and shaking in fear.

"C'mon, doll, I know you can take it." Bucky purred, wrapping his vibranium hand in your hair, guiding your face to rub against his length. It's almost humiliating. But it's also beyond arousing.

"Yes, sir." You mutter softly, licking your lips, raising your head when Bucky loosens his grip on your hair. You spit on the head of Bucky's cock, causing it to twitch where it stands, before gently wrapping your mouth around the tip, your tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the slit, causing Bucky to groan.

"Your god is losing patience, Kätzchen." Bucky growls, before tightening his vibranium hand in your hair, violently pushing your head down his cock, his length forcefully sliding down your velvety throat, only stopping when your nose is flush with his pelvic bone, groaning as he revels in the feeling, hissing as his head falls back in pleasure. "Shiiiit— So warm, Kätzchen...like fuckin' silk, doll..."

To nobody's surprise, you choke, choke hard, coughing around Bucky's member, who simply enjoys the way your throat constricts when you do so. Tears quickly form, as you try to focus on relaxing your throat and taking deep breaths in through your nose, but are quickly cut off as Bucky pulls your hair back, sliding your mouth off his length before pushing your head back down.

"Fuckin' perfect... gorgeous little devotee..." Bucky groans, starting to roll his hips as he continues to roughly guide your head up and down his cock, face fucking you as you cry and choke. Yup. You definitely fucked up calling him James.

Bucky had been tense since he texted you from the Quinjet, so when he starts to throb in your mouth rather than usual, you're not necessarily surprised, that mission really took a toll on him. You hollow your cheeks, and start gently scraping your teeth against Bucky's length as he continues to thrust into your face, his balls slapping against your chin with every snap of his strong hips.

"That's it, Kätzchen, worship me, your fuckin' god-"

Fuck, you were dizzy.

Your eyes start to roll back, head feeling fuzzy, your body seeming heavier, the restricted intake of oxygen starting to get to you, as more tears fall, but being the absolute bitch you are for Bucky, you're determined to make him cum before taking a breather.

"C'mon, babydoll, I'm so close... Lemme cum in your pretty little mouth... Let me desecrate the perfect altar that is you..." He groans, his hips snapping harder, shuddering at your teeth scraping his skin, only to be soothed by your hollowed cheeks and hot throat.

Your vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges, but you still didn't communicate your need to breathe... Instead, you move your hands up to cup his heavy balls, massaging them roughly as you suck harder at his length.

That was all it took.

"Fuck!"

Bucky growls, the sound dark and primal, sending jolts of pleasure to your deprived body, his flesh hand joining his vibranium one in your hair, holding you uncomfortably flush to his skin as his cock throbs, pulsing rapidly as rope after rope of hot cum spills down your throat, your hands still massaging his balls as they empty into you, your muscles working overtime to swallow it all... Since being with him, you found that super soldiers have loads like damn fire hydrants. Not that you're complaining. Usually.

"Baby... Ughhh—" You had expected Bucky to pull you off his cock once he finished, but he didn't, instead he held you flat to his pelvis, basking in the feeling of your hot, velvet throat surrounding him, groaning and growling in pleasure.

You couldn't do it. Your vision was completely blurred, tears still falling, your feelings like concrete, sweat pouring down you, your mind fogged like shower glass. You take your right hand, tapping your index, middle, and ring finger on his thigh three consecutive times.

He immediately pulls your head off his length, pulling you up to his lap as you cough and suck in heavy breaths.

"Doll? Doll, are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Bucky asks hurriedly, his vibranium hand holding you close to him and rubbing your back, while his flesh hand gently holds your face. "Darling, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

It takes you a few moments to process his words, as they sounded more like mumbles from underwater at first. But, as your vision cleared, your tears stopped, the fogginess left your mind, and your breathing started regulating, you finally registered his words and nodded yes. "Y-Yeah... I- I'm fine..." You murmur with a raspy voice, your throat scratchy from the rough blowjob.

Bucky sighed in relief, brushing away your tears with his flesh hand, peppering kisses on your face. "Alright..." He didn't sound too convinced, worried he hurt you, but decided to focus on cleaning you up and caring for you.

He grabbed the pack of baby wipes from the table next to the chair you two are on, taking one out, gently wiping your flushed face clean of the saliva, sweat, cum, and tears. He then opened a bottle of water, gently holding it to your lips. "Have some water, baby." He murmurs as he helps you take small sips, putting it down after about ¼ of the bottle is gone.

"There you go, Kätzchen...You did so good, I'm so damn proud of you, love." Bucky praised softly, pulling you closer to his chest and rocking side to side gently.

"Th-Thank you..." You murmur quietly, your voice still a little raspy, as you tuck your head in Bucky's neck, your sweat covered bodies moulding together, as Bucky's flesh hand slowly creeps down to your sex. "Time for your reward."

[acaciusbride]

Oblivion { Joel Miller x Reader }

Summary: Joel bends you over and fucks you until you pass out. You’re into it. There’s no plot, it’s just smut.

CWs: established consent / choking / praise / dirty talk / use of “good girl” / no daddy kink this time / unsafe sex / rough sex / dom!Joel / aftercare

MDNI / 18+ ONLY

Tagging @dreamingofdaddydin & @joelsgirl 💜

Joel has you on all fours. It’s one of his favourite positions, because it really gives him a good sense of how much bigger than you he is.

You’re not sure what the fuck he was eating in the QZ, but he’s far more broad and strong than most men in Jackson. Hell of a lot better looking, too. And not that you know really, but you get the sense that he knows his way around a woman far better than most men, too.

Not that you can really think of anything right now beyond what he’s doing to you.

He’s so much bigger than you, easily caging your body with his whenever he pleases, which is often. He goes between draping himself over you and sitting up straight, depending on how he wants to look at you.

Presently it’s the latter; he has both hands on your waist, pulling your much smaller body back against his hips, slamming his cock into you without much care as to how rough he’s being.

He knows you can take it. Knows that if you couldn’t, you’d tell him. He’d stop if you asked, wouldn’t be remotely pissy about it or guilt trip you for it, no questions asked. But you’ve never once asked him to stop.

Begged for more? Absolutely. Demanded he be rougher? Also a yes. You’re open to pretty much everything and anything, as long as it’s with him.

Your hands - so fucking tiny, they look so small and delicate whenever they’re wrapped around him - are fisted into the rumpled bed sheets, like holding on will keep you from losing your mind entirely. It won’t. Not with the sounds he’s already dragging out of you, high pitched moans and mewls that sound sweeter than anything he ever heard in a porno or real life.

You’ve got your ass in the air, back arched down in just the right position for him to hit that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clit as he fucks you.

And still, somehow, it registers that he’s holding back on you. That’s not what you want. You want him to fuck you senseless, literally. Fuck you so dumb that you can’t speak, can’t think, left a drooling mess in his bed with his cum dripping out of you down your thighs.

“God dammit, Joel…” you wriggle yourself back onto him, earning yourself a slap on the ass for your trouble.

“What, sweetheart? Not hard enough for you?” He grunts as he slams into you, hard, forcing your body forward into the mattress with the momentum.

You squeal loudly at the force of it, letting him know that’s exactly what you wanted.

You don’t know where the fuck he got his stamina, but you love it. Know he’ll complain about his back hurting later, but that’s fine. You probably won’t be able to walk later, so it seems even enough.

He doesn’t slow down, one hand leaving your waist to snake up to curl around your throat, hard enough to cut your airflow. Not too tight, not dangerous, but tight enough that with the force of how hard he’s fucking you, the room starts to spin.

Joel knows you, though. Knows the telltale signs of your body about to hit its peak, grinding his enormous length into you hard enough to tip you over the edge. He releases your throat just as you start to cum, holding you up with one hand as you shake beneath him.

“Fuck, baby, you get so tight when you cum for me…”

You know; it feels so fucking good it hurts, feeling your comparatively tiny cunt fluttering around him as he fucks you through … fuck. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum for him tonight. Four? Five?

You’re getting to your breaking point, but you still won’t ask him to stop, won’t tap out. You don’t care what happens to you, how overstimulated you get. All that matters is him, the heat of his body against yours, the feeling of being so full of him, the rough praise of his deep voice as he fucks you.

“Such a good girl for me. Getting tired, darlin’? Want me to stop?” Joel knows the answer, taunts you anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

You almost hiss it over your shoulder at him, feel his cock throb inside you at the words.

It’s like you’ve awakened a whole new side to him; his hands are vicelike on your waist as he pounds into you, no longer trying to be remotely gentle after you’ve just climaxed.

Harder and faster, one hand twisting into your hair and pulling hard as he fucks into you. The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together, your mewls and whimpers, his increasingly louder groans and curses.

“Fuck, baby, could just stay buried in this tiny perfect pussy forever, just made for me, weren’t you?”

You can’t answer him, just scream for him instead, the only intelligible word that comes out is his name. You’re exhausted, your climax building again, closer and more uncontrollable this time.

He knows it, holds you as steady as he can as he feels you start to shake, your tiny body finally reaching breaking point as you come undone around him.

Your eyes roll back in your head, vision fading with the intensity of your climax, every nerve in your body on fire as you shake in his arms.

It’s not the first time he’s literally fucked you unconscious. The first time, he stopped, and when you woke up? You demanded to know why.

It’s a spoken rule now that he doesn’t stop. There’s something unbelievably fucking hot about waking up to him inside you.

Still, he slows, caresses your back, strokes your hair, being almost gentle with you now as you slowly start to come back to yourself.

“There you are… there’s my good girl… you doing okay, sweetheart?”

You blink a few times, open your eyes. He’s still inside you, thick and full and practically splitting you open. Perfect.

“Mm… Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?” He rocks his hips lazily.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

You can’t see the grin on his face as he keeps moving, chasing his own release now. He won’t admit it, because it feels a bit fucked up, but he likes that you trust him so much, likes how helpless you are when he fucks you into oblivion.

“Not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make myself cum now, pretty little pussy gonna make me cum…”

He’s been holding his own release back for god knows how long, edging himself just to get you to this point, but fuck if it isn’t worth it.

He’s comparatively gentle now as he chases his own release, still rough but less controlled, deep sloppy strokes that have him groaning as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me…”

He punctuates the sentence with a long moan, the sort of sound you want to commit to memory because it’s so fucking sexy, but then he’s throbbing and pulsing inside you, filling your aching overstimulated cunt with hot, thick ropes of his seed, grinding deep before he pulls out, watches it drip out of you onto the sheets.

Finally, finally, you collapse onto the bed, eyes half closed, panting and whimpering. The bed creaks as he gets up; vaguely you’re aware of him coming back, a warm cloth between your thighs, cleaning you up.

Once or twice, you’ve both been too exhausted to move, but Joel likes to take care of you after. The mattress dips again and then he’s there behind you, pulling your exhausted body against the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, the slight softness of his stomach.

“Did so well for me, sweet girl. So proud of you.” He presses a kiss to your temple, strokes your hair.

“Sleep now. My perfect girl…”

You’re more than happy to let him rock you into oblivion, a small part of you hoping you’ll wake up to him inside you again.

[delimeats-000]

Matt with a breeding kink. After he’s done fucking you into literal oblivion he watches his cum all leak out if of as he slaps your thighs (I feel so awkward writing that I am so sorry 😭) anyways have a great day/night 🤍

do not say sorry. ily..

No Wasting

summary: matt fucks u🤷🏻��♀️

warnings: no plot js filth

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

he’s got me face down ass up and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

“FUCK”

“that feel good baby?”

“yes- fuck. yes daddy”

he thrusts in and out not, his pace seemingly quickens with each stroke. hitting all the right spots i feel him filling me up with his cock.

“tell daddy how good it feels” he moans, leaning over to my ear.

“feels so so good daddy”

“yeah baby? want me to fill you up, wanna make me a real daddy?”

“FUCK MATT- do whatever you want please js don’t stop”

my head burrowed in the pillows, i scream his name somw more as he continues pounding into me.

his pace grows even sloppier and he grabs my hair pulling my head up to hear me better, “let me hear you pretty girl.”

“matt- daddy im so close”

“cmon baby lemme feel you come around my cock” he pushes further into me making me scream out even more.

“SHIT MATT”

my walls clench around him and my legs fall weak my cum drips down onto him and the clapping of his hips against my ass grows louder.

“such a good girl for me, so go-good” he struggles to speak, right then i feel his dick twitch inside of me. warm smooth cum fills me up and he continues to fuck it into me.

“fuck y/n feels so fucking good” he whispers riding out his high.

slowly pulling out he flips me over. both of us are out of breath but he still has the energy to lower himself between my thighs, getting a better look at my swollen, dripping cunt.

“so so fucking pretty.” he whispers to it before caressing my folds. blowing cold air onto my already sensitive pussy, he wipes up some of the leaking cum and shoves it right back in.

“FUCK” i cry out from the overstimulation.

“sorry pretty girl, no wasting” he winks and slaps my thigh making me wince again. “gotta get your belly nice and full.” he plants a kiss on my stomach before laying with me.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

short. mb. im gonna try to start writing again i promise 🙌🏼🙌🏼

love you 🫶🏼

tags-

@dev-speaks @daddyslilchickenfingers @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @strniohoeee @sturnphilia @sturnioloshacker @mangosrar @mangoposts @its-jennarose

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

Menudo giro de guion para las antis, Sam y Cait juntos en un evento para fans donde no están obligados por Starz a participar, ya sabes, ese tipo de eventos con dinero de por medio que sus acérrimas fans siempre han afirmado que Cait no hace porque ella no es de esa clase de engañabobos como es Sam, siempre pensando en como hacer caja a costa de los bolsillos del fandom. Con eso demuestran que ya han pasado página de un fandom tóxico y empeñado en hacerlos parecer menos que compañeros de trabajo para hacer lo que les place, nadie haría ascos a una Venecia carnavalesca, sacándoles de paso ese dedo medio que tan bien saben utilizar y que creo que de aquí en adelante van a usar mucho más.

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Una vez más, llego muy tarde a responder a tu interesantísimo comentario. Sin embargo, esta vez, me atrevo a decir que lo hice por buenas razones: simplemente, encontré tu comentario provocativamente alentador. Me hizo pensar aún más en el asunto de Venecia, sobre el que ya se han mencionado muchas cosas. Sin embargo, faltaba algo, y ese algo es una perspectiva cultural más amplia. Pero, antes que nada, traduzcamos lo que me enviaste:

'What a plot twist for the antis, Sam and Cait together at a fan event where they are not forced by Starz to participate, you know, those kinds of events involving money her Stans have always claimed Cait doesn't do, because she's not that kind of con artist like Sam, always thinking about how to make money at the expense of the fandom's pockets. With that they show that they have already turned the page on a toxic fandom bent on making them look less than coworkers, and do whatever they like to do. Nobody would turn down a carnivalesque Venice, and they chose this giving the fandom that middle finger they know how to use so well, and that I think they will use a lot more from now on.'

Everything you wrote, dear Anon Rebelde, and then some more. If I weren't one of their favorite targets, I could even feel #sorry for this entire bunch of #silly people, who are now legitimately freaking out in public silence and inbox mischief. All of this just because their basic, binary tropes (S is a cheap scammer, C is an intangible saint) are seemingly being shaken to the core by what yes, is a very interesting and ironic plot twist. Granted, this is still an OL-ish related event, but it is just not your usual sort of event (a con, a panel, a promo-related interview) and it happens just as shooting is now completely over. It will be very difficult for all those people who are probably dumbfounded (and not in a good way) by this, to forget they were barking with great confidence no later than last week, that S and C will NEVER DO ANYTHING ELSE TOGETHER, that SHE WAS WAY OVER OL AND THAT PEASANT, that HE WILL DISAPPEAR INTO ALCOHOLIC OBLIVION AND SHE WILL OH, THE PLACES SHE'LL GO ON HER OWN. It turns out the opposite seems to happen and it goes to show spitting upwards is never a great idea, lest it would land on your own head. Therefore, we are met with a lot of sobriety and zero comments on those Mordorian outlets: when it's inconvenient - minimize, minimize, minimize and hope for better days (hooker, Tracula, Alphabet Fitness Harem, Orange Influencer, Brazilian fan with an agenda, etc).

Granted, this is not 'fair Verona', but literary tropes are very powerful and magic, like that, and it is almost impossible not to think about what happened there, 'when ancient grudge broke to new mutiny' (I hope I remember it correctly, as I write this). In other words, it is impossible not to think about the ballo in maschera at the Capulet's mansion, even if the official theme of the event is (oh, the irony!) Casanova's Venice (half of Mordor has no idea who that fine gentleman was, LOL). It also goes without saying the entire thing will probably look rather like Baz Luhrmann's interpretation...

... than the very aesthetically pleasing, but totally stiff Zeffirelli version:

Granted, this is happening in the context of the (nowadays) very touristy Venetian carnival, a horrific hullaballoo few people, snobbery put aside, really and honestly enjoy. But it is exactly the irony of this that seemed perhaps the most important of it all. In a form of poetic justice, the pretext is Carnival, that almost ridiculous, nonsensical, borrowed time of collective foolishness. You'd even be tempted to not think twice, yet there is nothing more dead serious and subversive than Carnival itself, and it has been like this since the Roman Saturnalia feast, when slaves turned into masters and masters into slaves, if only for a crazy day. Its deep meaning is not really about allowing freeform fornication in dark alleys and a brief respite before the long, austere dullness of Lent. Its deep meaning is, perhaps above anything else, about a giant, collective middle finger to what is perceived as oppressive, absurd and coercing authority. Since I suppose those fine minds across the street never read Bakhtin's Rabelais and His World, where everything is explained with luminous clarity, they will have to either believe me or shite over the same inbox you sent your comment to, first thing in the morning. Sometimes, truth seeps through chaos. Sometimes, things are not what they seem to be. Oh, the irony!

I am not even saying SC are aware of the...uhm... metaphorical implications of their choice to attend a rather profitable event. I am pretending to even ignore the fact that at such events, the invited co-presenters or hosts are, more often than not, real life couples, too. All I am saying (since apparently I have to thoroughly, boringly explain absolutely everything I write) is that this tiny coincidental detail gave me pause and a contented chuckle.

And with all this, I still haven't watched that Paley panel. Will do, in reasonable time. Thank you for dropping by, Anon Rebelde - it is always a stimulating pleasure.

[yanderestarangel]

DOUBLE PUNISHING PLEASURE - KUAI LIANG AND BI HAN X AFAB READER

Synopsis : you were one of the Lin Kuei ninjas, but you were a poorly raised brat, often making Bi Han angry on purpose, so he decided to get back at you along with his brother.

TW: Double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob M!receive, degradation, asphyxiation, saliva, pet names, submission, master!kink, porn plot, smut, nsfw, punishment, afab reader, power play.

A/N: I did this after seeing a horny comment that would fuck these two, so here's this sinful shit for you guys.

Kuai Liang is the lines marked in orange and Bi Han is marked in blue.

You were thrown hard against the wall of the empty training room, the pain in your back from the impact showed signs immediately, your flesh tingled as you saw the tall figure of Bi Han, your grandmaster, you two didn't get along, Bi Han was the typical brutish and authoritarian leader which made you irritate him with small actions being rebellious with his orders was the main one but this time, even you recognized that you had crossed the line by purposely disrupting a clan mission.

"-I'm tired of this shit (Y/N), you're a fucking brat I've tolerated your behavior for too long." -Bi Han shouts at you, pointing his index finger in your face, obviously he was very angry with you. Soon Kuai Liang also appeared, upset but a little calmer.

"-Calm down Bi Han, I think (Y/N) also made a mistake but let's maintain control and find a punishment that matches the mistake that was made." -Kuai spoke calmly, smiling sideways with a predatory and lustful look at you. "-After all, (Y/N) may be a brat, but he's/she's a cute brat." -He completed by placing his warm, calloused hands on your shoulders, while Bi Han smiled sideways, with an extremely sadistic and dominant look, practically dripping with lust with each step he took towards you.

"-Oh yes, you finally have a good idea Liang, I think I have an idea for you (Y/N)." -Bi Han said, holding your chin, squeezing the flesh of your face. "-You will accept and obey our commands like a good boy/girl right?" -He spoke in an authoritarian tone, with no room for discussion.

Bi Han knelt you down in front of him while Kuai locked the door.

"-You're going to be the fucking little slut you were born to be... Now..." -Bi Han quickly lowered his pants, enough for you to suck him, his dick jumped out of the black fabrics, his veins throbbed and a small, shallow path of hair could be seen below his navel going down to his groin. "-Suck my cock now, like the good slut you are." -Bi Han complemented in a growl, bringing your head to his dick, pushing with all strength and aggression your mouth to his dick, your lips forced themselves to accommodate the salty and musky taste that the grand master's dick had, while Kuai stood behind you, the yellow ninja's fingers traced waves on your pants, making designs on the edges while exposing and teasing your wet pussy, making Liang laugh at the result.

"-Do you get excited this early? I thought you were more of a brat than that (Y/N), you're just a pretty little slut in heat, aren't you?" -Kuai speaks in a murmur, while you saw him take off your pants, fully exposing your pussy.

Bi Han continued to thrust into your mouth, the hard length became even hotter with each erroneous but painful movement he made in your oral cavity, his pink glans hit your throat in a pattern, making you choke and cry with pleasure and pain, the burning of Bi Han's need to achieve his own release using you like this was inexplicably pleasurable but painful, but he didn't care, just smiling as he watched you cry on his dick.

"-You love having my cock in your mouth, don't you? Such a good little slut." -He growled with authority, as he grabbed your head with both hands, the tears that came out of his eyes only drove him to fuck you into oblivion even more.

"-Well, well, well, look at that sweet pussy. Just begging to be fucked, isn't it?" -Kuai Liang says smiling, running his fingers provocatively over your smooth folds, making you shiver. Liang knelt behind you, while using his tongue to pass through your smooth folds, on the outside of your pussy, first teasing your clitoris, he was going to give you pleasure, but he was going to torture you first. You moaned against Bi Han's cock as you felt Liang eat you from the outside with his tongue, but Bi Han didn't let you move a muscle on his cock.

"-That's it, lick me and suck me anyway. You're doing great, my slut." -Bi Han spoke mockingly, pretending to be falsely proud of you, then he felt you suck him harder.

Kuai, getting tired of playing with your pussy on the outside, decided to fuck you another way, with his dick. He took off his pants quickly, while stroking his own member, he teased your clitoris again with the head of his cock, as he slowly pushed his length inside your wet and needy little hole, making you moan loudly against the ninja's cock. old man in front of you.

"-Don't worry, baby, I'm going to give that pussy the pounding it wants, you're going to take every inch of my cock, like a good boy/girl, aren't you?" -Liang spoke with a hoarse tone, while moaning lowly, grabbing your hips while squeezing the soft flesh on your sides, Bi Han didn't release you from his mouth, even though you choked until you hit his groin with your nose, smelling his woody soap that overflowed from the grand master's rough skin, while his cock curved into your throat, leaving you breathless for a few seconds.

"-Holy shit, you're a fucking Brat in heat, hungry for cum, aren't you? I'm going to fuck you so much that you won't be able to think about anything other than serving me." -He spoke between his teeth, freeing you from the cruel grip of the painful blowjob you gave him, after he came all over your tongue. But he soon grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks and telling you to open your mouth, even though you were too embarrassed to do such a task.

"-Open your mouth you cumslut, open that dirty mouth of my cum, now." -the grand master ordered, squeezing your cheeks even more, to the point of pain. Liang noticed this behind you, making him fuck your pussy even harder, making you feel him hitting your womb repeatedly, making you moan and open your mouth, making Bi Han smile satisfied as he watched his cum leak out of your mouth, running down your chin, lips and neck, with strands of saliva connecting to your teeth.

"-Such good little whore..." -With that he spat in your mouth, his saliva mixed with the semen he had on your tongue, telling you to swallow it all, which you quickly obeyed. Kuai took his dick out of your pussy, while he supported you in his arms, hugging your body as he put his throbbing dick inside you.

"-You love being fucked by a real man, don't you? Enjoying every inch of my thick cock deep inside your tight little hole." -Liang's desire grew with every movement of his hips, the feeling of your pussy gripping him tightly bringing him closer to the edge.

Bi Han saw your tight butt hole, but already lubricated by your pussy juices, causing him to smile devilishly, as he took his dick to your second free hole, he entered painfully and quickly, widening you with a single thrust, while you she was shaking in Liang's arms, who just said: "-You're a good boy/girl, you'll handle everything, right?"

They both started to move at a steady pace, Bi Han's hips were bumping against his ass, while Kuai Liang's were against your pussy.

"-You're so good, baby, so tight and wet. Just how I like it, a good pet for my pleasure." -Bi Han said with an extremely sadistic smile while fucking her ass even harder. "-This is your fucking punishment for being such a fucking brat." -He added again, moaning hoarsely while you just moaned, feeling your two holes being filled by both men.

Without prior warning, Liang let out a loud moan, giving a few more thrusts into your pussy, enjoying the hot and sticky liquid on your soft walls.

"-Fuck (Y/N) so beautiful and tight, made me cum early." -Liang spoke softly, smiling as he saw your pussy tremble around his cock, but he soon pulled out, denying you the orgasm you wanted so much. Bi Han still fucked his ass while holding his hips, purposely hurting the sensitive flesh with loud, punishing spanks.

"-Just a little hole for my cum, craving my thick cock deep inside you."

Bi Han soon left you too, kneeling you again, your knees hurt from the impact with the hard floor, while you watched him jerk off quickly, just stimulating his already sensitive thick cock, while he held your face in place and cummed, dirtying your cheeks, lips and every area that Bi Han's sperm jets could reach, he slapped you hard on the face, while smiling satisfied.

"-Was that really necessary? The slap?" -Kuai says to Bi Han, who just laughed looking at you, a dirty, shaking mess on the floor, denied orgasms and marked by slaps and semen.

"-It was necessary for him/her to learn, wasn't it (Y/N)?" -Bi Han replied categorically, leaving the room while Kuai covered you with a sheet, giving you a quick pat on the head.

"-Maybe next time, if you're obedient, you'll be able to cum, okay?"

⸺It was up to you now, to decide to face both again and be punished or to be obedient and see what the future would bring you.

[prettyoatmeal]

Just The Way You Like It (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader)

Horny posting again sorry ☹️

GENRE: Smut 🗣️ Porn w/o plot time

Summary: He makes you cum around his cock while staying completely still inside of you teehee 🤭

Names Used: Love, lovie, sweetheart, gorgeous, good girl

Word Count: 567

Masterlist here!

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

"I want you to get off like this."

"What?" You asked, a little confused with his request.

He had prepped you so well, fingering you until you were practically crying him to fuck you when his fingers weren't enough. Now you're laid back on the bed, finally inside you, but still refusing to move.

"Please," he begged, voice filled with desperation, "I want to feel it."

You swallowed as his hand moved from your hip down between your legs to press his fingers against your swollen clit, making you let out a small sigh of pleasure. Already you were squeezing around him from just that small act. His fingers moved in tight, small circles, but he was too slow. You still wanted more.

"Simon.." you whined, propping yourself up on one of your elbows to get a full view of his movements.

"Move, move," you whispered to him so you could replace his fingers with yours. Lucky for you, he obliged. Biting your lip, you could finally feel how wet you were for yourself. Your breaths only got quicker as you could finally do it the way you wanted, the feeling you've been craving for so long now was creeping closer. And Simon was certainly enjoying the show, all your whines and moans going straight to his cock.

"Fuck, love. Just like that." His breaths matched yours, groaning each time he felt you squeeze or pulse around his cock. He could barely hold himself back from thrusting into you and pounding you into oblivion, but he desperately wanted to feel you cum around him while he was cock-warming you. He laid his hands on your waist and gripped at the soft flesh, pulling towards him just to get that tiniest bit deeper inside you, causing you to whimper again as he pressed against that sweet spot inside you.

"Just the way you like it, yeah? Keep going, gorgeous."

You moaned at his praise, your stomach tingling and filling with butterflies at every word he whispered to you. Your fingers moved faster as you began to chase your orgasm. You were so close. So so close. You looked up at him through your half-lidded eyes, you needed him to keep talking at you, and Simon very quickly picked up on this.

"Mm, feels so good, doesn't it?"

Yes.

"Fuck, squeezing around me so tight," he pulled you back against him again, a whimper leaving your mouth, "pretty little cunt practically sucking me in. You getting close, sweetheart?"

Yes.

He earned another whimper out of you in response. Your fingers moved quicker, the circles becoming tighter as your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him as close to you as possible. You felt yourself getting completely lost in the pleasure, barely able to think properly at this point as you brought yourself over the edge.

"That's it, come on. You can do it. Cum for me, lovie."

The knot in your stomach finally snapped as your free hand quickly made its way to cover your mouth.

"Oh god- Simon~!" you moaned out as you finally reached your heavenly release, your eyes rolling back as you came around his cock.

"Fucking hell.." he groaned at the sensation, "such a good girl f' me."

Once your breathing had finally levelled again, you felt his hands grip tighter on your waist.

"Now," he started, "time to fuck you like you deserve."

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

Thanks :3

[fandomfics]

Any Time, Anywhere.

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem Reader

Description: smut. That's it. Porn absolutely no hint of plot whatsoever.

Masterlist

⚠️Warnings⚠️

18+ MDNI

Public sex, use of the force for sexy times, fingering, toys, oral m receiving, unprotected p in v, light choking, spanking.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You're tucked away in a dark corner booth in the Mos Eisley Cantina, your quiet breathy moans drowned out by the music and chatter pervading the air.

"Are you enjoying yourself darling?" Kenobi asks with a smirk.

"Y-yes master." You manage to stutter out. His hand is between your thighs, teasing you over your undergarments. He plays with speed and pressure, working you up before slowing back down to keep you on the edge of pleasure. You want to reach under his robes and drive him just as mad, but he won't allow you to.

Eventually he slides his hand beneath the fabric and allows two fingers to glide through your folds until he's at your opening. Slowly, steadily, he fully sheaths them inside you and curls them just right before halting completely. You desperately whine into his ear.

"Please... Please."

He chuckles at your predicament and starts working you, picking up speed agonizingly slow. When his pace hits just right you lean into him and whisper, "just like that..."

He sips a drink casually as if he's not finger fucking you into oblivion. You're unable to focus on anything other than being a whimpering pleading mess while the Jedis eyes sweep the room.

"I'm gonna cum..." You whimper.

His fingers halt and he brings them out above the table, they dip into his drink and he swirls them around the liquid before removing them and licking them clean. The loss of his fingers and that sight cause you to clench your thighs as you seek friction.

"Did you bring it?" He questions you.

"Yes, Master. What is it?" You hold the object out to him, you assumed it to be decorative when you removed it from its cradle on the bedside table. You are unsure what the material is, but it's cool and smooth to the touch, it's oblong in shape and about as long as your hand.

Kenobi plucks the heavy obsidian object from your hand using the force and you watch it slip under the table as his fingers sway around in the air.

"Open." A mischievous smile graces his lips as he watches your face contort from confusion to realization. You follow his orders and feel the coolness of the material glide through your slick folds before it works it's way carefully into you sending a shiver down your spine.

"Fuck." You say under your breath, you've never felt anything so delicious, you feel absolutely filthy, and you love every second of it. He mercilessly fucks you through several orgasms until you can't sit up without him holding you up.

"No more....please. I can't."

"Shh, rest. You'll need the energy later." He winks at you and you feel the object leave you and land heavily in your pocket. He pushes a drink in front of you and urges you to sip it, and you do as you lean against him in your blissfully fucked out state.

Hours pass and after you've recovered enough he guides you back to his ship. You're exhausted but you know Kenobi has plans to ruin you further, much to your delight.

You exaggerate your exhaustion and immediately head for the sleeping chambers, collapsing face down on the bed. You hear the Jedi chuckle lowly as he enters the room and you feel yourself being freed from your clothes by the force.

He stands behind you admiring your naked form as you turn over onto your back and stretch your arms up, arching your back. He hums his approval, moving towards you as he undresses.

"You were so good for me at the cantina darling." He says as he stands over you, "I think you deserve a treat."

A sultry smile lights up your face and you immediately climb off the bed and fall to your knees in front of him. He slowly strokes himself with one hand while the other grips your chin.

You open your mouth and wait with your tongue out. His hands move to the back of your head and he guides you into his length. You open up your throat to take him fully in and look up through your lashes as your eyes water. He watches your face intently as he begins to roll his hips, using you as he pleases. You desperately want to bring your hand down to your clit, but refrain, you know that's only for him. He feels your need and one of his hands comes up to slowly circle the air, suddenly you're feeling the stimulation.

You place a hand on each of his thighs and rake your nails over the bare skin, his hips buck forward unintentionally and you revel in the reaction his body has under your touch. You moan around his cock, causing him to spasm again, pushing as far into your throat as he possibly can. He stops stimulating you and takes a fist full of your hair to pull you off of him, admiring the mess or drool on your face.

He lightly tugs upwards urging you to stand and you comply. His hand leaves your hair to take your hand and lead you to the bed. He sits with his back against the wall and pulls you into his lap.

He lines up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on him, eliciting moans for both of you. He nods and you rock your hips, your already sensitive clit grinding against him as you do. You pick up your speed until it matches the rhythm of your heart pounding in your chest. He smiles and puts his hands behind his head as he watches you use his cock to chase yet another release.

When he feels you start to slow he brings a hand down swiftly on your ass to get your back on track.

"So tired Master..." You start to slow again.

"Am I going to have to punish you?" You slow down more, hoping he will.

"Please, I cant..." You stop, panting.

He lifts you off of him and flips you onto your stomach in one fluid motion before standing on his knees behind you. He grabs your hips and yanks them up hard while pushing one hand down on your shoulders to keep your face pressed into the mattress.

He smacks your ass hard and you cry out, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. He plunges himself back into you with a groan and another surprised yelp leaves your mouth. He sets a fast pace, fucking you hard into the mattress as you fist the sheets. Your face drags back and forth on the bed with every thrust. The sound of skin on skin mixed with his grunts and your moans echo off the metal walls in a cacophonous symphony. He occasionally lands another slap on your ass furthering your pleasure.

"May I cum Master?"

"Not yet." He takes both of your arms and uses them to pull you up so your back is arched against his chest. One hand moves to your throat with a gentle squeeze while the other slides down to play with your clit as he rams into you. Your hands move up to play with your nipples and he watches intently.

"Now." You finally chase your release, it crashes through your body with the intensity of the twin suns. You open your mouth in a silent scream as wave after wave of pleasure radiates from your core. Your orgasm coaxes his and you feel the hot ropes of cum spread inside you. He pumps into you until he's fully spent and lays back on the bed pulling you with him.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Saturday Morning

Plot: Jamie and Y/n spend an unconventional day off together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child abuse/neglect

A/N: Annndd we’re finally in it in it. A little bit of backstory, a little bit of trauma bonding and a whole lot of fluffy angst. Enjoy!!

(I also fell way behind w/ the taglist and since this series is maybe PG-13, I’m dropping the 16+ 💕)

—————

Someone was knocking on the door.

No, not knocking. Pounding.

Y/n slipped out of bed silently, as if the intruder was already inside her apartment. Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the dark, her hands fumbled for the baseball bat she kept behind her closet door. She’d had it since college and she couldn’t believe she was finally going to have to use it.

The banging continued as she walked through the apartment and down the stairs, growing louder the longer it went unanswered. Whoever was coming to abduct or rob her was clearly in a rush to do so.

Y/n steadied her breath and adjusted her grip on the bat, daring to peek through the peephole and see what she was up against.

“Wha-“ she uttered, lowering her bat and unlocking the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

On her stoop, Jamie was bouncing in place, “Can I use your loo?”

Y/n squinted, putting up a hand to block the bulb of Jamie’s stupid headlamp. “What?”

“Roy and I are on a run and I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jamie explained hurriedly, “You’re the only person I know in the neighborhood.”

With a heart rate well over 120 and a mind sluggish from sleep, it took Y/n a second to process his words. “I thought you were a fucking burgler,” she groaned.

Jamie whipped his hand frantically, “Is that a yes?”

Y/n was tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with a public urination charge. Her friendlier instincts won out and she stepped to the side, letting Jamie race up the staircase to her bathroom. She shut and locked the door once more before trudging back up and setting her bat on the kitchen counter.

A moment later, Jamie emerged, calm and laughing to himself about something. “What kind of burgler knocks before robbin’ ya?”

Y/n was in no mood for his sense of humor. “It is 4-fucking-AM,” she pointed to the stove clock, “I am a single woman who lives on her own and it is 4-fucking-AM.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie held his hands up in surrender, “Coulda texted you. I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned against the back of her couch and wiped her hands over her face. Jamie made his way to the stairs, but was struck with a grand idea before he could take the first step.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Y/n glanced up from her palms, “What?”

“With me,” Jamie continued, “Roy. Go for a mornin’ run?”

“What part of 4-fucking-AM isn’t getting through to you?” Y/n asked, floored by his oblivion.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be up anyway now,” Jamie shrugged, hopping from one foot to the other, “Get your blood pumpin’. Some endorphins.”

Y/n stared at him and wondered if she tried hard enough, could she kill him with eye contact alone?

“It’ll be fun,” Jamie smiled, jutting out his neck a little.

As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no chance in hell she was getting back to sleep with all her senses dialed to 11. It was either tossing and turning in bed for an hour before she admitted defeat and started her day, or do something productive.

Y/n rolled her eyes and brushed past Jamie to grab her running shoes. “4 fucking AM…” she grumbled as she passed him once more.

Jamie made two victorious fists, too pleased with himself to acknowledge the fact that he’d robbed her of a precious Saturday sleep-in. She’d enjoy herself once they got out.

Grabbing a hoodie and locking up her apartment, Y/n followed Jamie out to the street where Roy was waiting on the sidewalk. Under the light of his own headlamp, he looked as confused as Y/n had moments before when he saw her trailing behind Jamie.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Convinced States to join us, yeah?” Jamie answered as Y/n yawned.

“I’m gonna fucking push you into the first lake we see,” Y/n glared at the back of Jamie’s head.

Roy looked between his trainee and the woman he barely knew, but respected for the threat alone. Nodding, his eyes landed on Y/n, “You can stay if you keep up.”

“No problem there,” Y/n sighed, taking off into a jog. If Jamie was going to ruin her day off, the least she could do was beat him.

Sharing a glance of amusement, Jamie and Roy ran after Y/n, into the early London morning.

—————————

It turned out to be a fair fight between Y/n and Jamie. Jamie hadn’t underestimated her, per se, but he figured her exhaustion would slow her down. She’d held her own right up against him and impressed even Roy.

“You’re fuckin’ fit, you are,” Jamie said after, the two of them having gone for tea afterwards. He quickly realized the double meaning of the word, “I mean, not like that. I mean, you are, yeah, but I mean-“

“Oh my gosh, words,” Y/n groaned, reaching with one hand to Jamie’s mouth, “Stop.”

Jamie swerved to avoid the hit, chuckling after. “You’re a proper asshole when you’re tired,” he snickered.

“Well, when I get woken up at 4AM,” Y/n glared over at the man, “No, I don’t feel particularly kind.”

The two of them strolled through Richmond, Roy having left them mere minutes ago. They’d run on and off for about an hour before Y/n had to sit through the rest of their regiment. She’d taken a great deal of joy in sitting back with Roy and yelling commands at Jamie.

“I think Roy’s gonna invite you every mornin’ now,” Jamie mused, taking a sip of tea.

Y/n faked a gasp, grasping Jamie’s bicep, “Getting to hurl insults at you? Every day? Oh, well, that’s it. Better hand Keeley my resignation.”

Jamie laughed, shoving her off him before spotting and leading them to a bench. Richmond on a Saturday morning was bustling with people, but it was a peaceful kind of frenzy. The kind you could watch and enjoy.

“Admit it,” Jamie said, sitting down, “You had fun.”

Y/n sighed, pulling her tea to her lips. No such thing would be admitted.

“Why are you even still doing this?” She asked, looking out into the park where a group of kids were kicking around a football, “Zava’s gone. You’re back to being number one. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Jamie ran his fingers over his chin, she wasn’t wrong. Zava had made his unannounced exit two weeks prior. The whole reason Roy had offered to train him was to get him back to being the best. He may not have earned it, but the title had been bestowed back to Jamie. Mission accomplished.

“Think it’s more than that,” he answered, “More than Zava. I think…I know I can be better. And I wanna get there. See what I can do.”

Y/n nodded in reply, that was something she could understand. How many times had she pushed herself in school? At work? Not to beat anyone, but to know she had done her absolute best?

“Maybe it’ll pay off in Amsterdam,” she commented before taking a sip of tea. The exhibition match was just one week away.

“Ah,” Jamie smiled, “You excited?”

Y/n tilted her head from side to side in a shrug, “I guess. I’ve never been.”

Jamie’s face transformed in a split second, from content to near disgusted.

Y/n leant back, “What?”

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam?” Jamie was darn near incredulous at the mere notion.

“No,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave under his judgement.

Jamie scoffed and turned away from her. “How the fuck do you live here this long and not go to Amsterdam?”

“And yet somehow, I still walk the earth,” Y/n chuckled at how bothered he was, “I’m guessing you’ve been.”

Jamie’s lips popped out very duckface-ish. “‘Course I have. Practically a fuckin’ tour guide.”

“Alright,” Y/n said, “Gimme your recommendations.”

Settling back against the bench as if he meant to stay a proper while, Jamie ran through his index. He picked through the pleasant memories, stag parties and one emergency diverted flight that ended in a particularly rowdy five star hotel evening. None of those amounted to anything stacked up against one trip taken much earlier in life.

“Gotta go to the Anne Frank house,” he began to list off ideas, “It’s super sad, but you gotta do it. There’s a really good place nearby to get stroopwafel, gotta go there. Eh, a boat ride down the canal. The tour guides driving ‘em give you all these fun facts about the architecture and the history and stuff.”

Y/n listened, it was the first time she’d seen Jamie properly excited about something. He was passionate on the field, but this was a childlike joy.

“You do remember there’s a match, right?” she laughed, “I’m only gonna end up having, like, one night.

“Then fuckin’ pack it in,” Jamie shrugged and gestured ahead of them like the country was laid out before them, “It’s Amsterdam.”

Y/n raised her cup to take a sip, “How do you know so much? You’ve really been that many times?”

“My mum took me when I were about 16,” Jamie answered, “Took me to all the historical sights and stuff. Guess it all just stuck.”

“Hm,” Y/n nodded, “What about your dad?”

What prompted her to ask, Y/n couldn’t know. She’d noticed that Jamie’s mother came up in conversation sometimes, but his father never did. Her subconscious curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Jamie felt his chest tighten at the mention of his dad. Y/n couldn’t have known anything about their relationship, he knew this. He just wasn’t sure how to reply when it was a subject he didn’t want to pick up. At all.

“Not really a thing,” he chose the safest answer, “He took me before me mum, but…wasn’t nearly as fun.”

Y/n watched his expression shift, how his eyes went from watching his fingers slide over his paper cup to the air in front of them. How Jamie was always fidgeting, but was now doing it with purpose. Worse, she recognized something about all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracked, “That was way too personal, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s-“ Jamie quickly held up a hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for her innocence. “It’s fine. He’s just a,” Jamie shook his head, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

Y/n gazed down at her tea, sensing there was more that he wanted to say. Looking away not only saved her dignity, but it allowed him some quasi-privacy to say it.

“What about your folks?” Jamie finally looked back at Y/n, nudging her elbow a little.

That was worse, Y/n decided. Far worse.

“Uh,” she stalled, there was no choice but to answer, “We don’t really talk, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Jamie didn’t hesitate to ask.

Y/n inhaled deeply, blowing the air out with puffed cheeks. It was a piece of her history that she’d left in America, sending it into silent submission the second she stepped foot in London.

“We just…” Y/n shrugged, “Don’t have a relationship. Never have.”

Jamie’s brows dropped in confusion, “What’re you, like, adopted or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Y/n’s lips popped around the syllable, “They’ve just…never had any interest in their kids. Me and my sister, we kind of raised ourselves.”

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered, realizing he had definitely dug too deep. It was too late to back out though, their secrets were spilling themselves out. Better to lean into it than try and patch the all too massive leaks.

Y/n bitterly chuckled over her tea cup, “Yeah.”

Jamie absorbed what she said, leaning on his knees now. It was like he had to take a defensive position up a past that was nowhere near, yet all around him. If Y/n was going to be honest, the least he could do was match it.

“My dad and I,” he started, picking at a loose corner of the cardboard around his cup, “We kinda got in a fight. Earlier this year.”

Y/n turned to face Jamie, thinking he meant an entirely normal type of argument.

“Came back to the locker room after we lost a match,” he continued the story, “Talked a bunch of shit. Got ugly and…” Jamie hesitated, his fist feeling the phantom pain of the confrontation, “Yeah…”

Y/n’s lips parted in gentle shock, he didn’t need to finish for the meaning to come across.

Jamie could feel her eyes resting on him and found the strength to meet them. The tight smile across his face didn’t match the story, but it felt necessary. He sat back, hating the silence they were wading in.

“My parents never yelled. Not because me and my sister were perfect angels or anything, but…they just didn’t care enough to get that emotional,” Y/n admitted before she could even realize the vulnerability in which she said it with, “I mean, there was nothing we could do to even get them to pay attention to us. No recitals, no science fairs, no achievements…nothing. So long as they kept a roof over our heads and kept us breathing, they felt they were doing enough of a job.”

Jamie scoffed, bitter for both of them. “Me dad couldn’t be bothered to show up to any matches. Not when I were a kid.”

“What about when you went pro?” Y/n asked.

“Only in Manchester,” Jamie answered, “Screamin’ at me on and off the pitch that I were doin’ it wrong.”

Y/n traced the curve of Jamie’s jaw with her eyes, watching it clench. He made sense. For the first time since they’d met, he made total sense. You couldn’t go through a childhood like his and not come out with something to prove.

Their conversation became an exchange. One would share and, to make the other feel not so vulnerable, the other would chime in. “Once me and my sister could cook for ourselves, get jobs,” Y/n countered Jamie’s revelation, “My parents were even more done. It’s the main reason I came to England. To get away from them.”

Jamie was fully engaged now, his body turned to face Y/n as she matched his honesty. He knew all about running away.

“I worked so hard in school to get As, extracurricular stuff, anything I could,” Y/n gestured to the air with her cup, “So I could get out.”

“Yeah,” Jamie interjected, his memory sliding back to mornings before dawn spent on the pitch near his childhood home. He’d been just as relentless then as he was now. “Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ hours I spent just…tryin’ to get good. Tryin’ to do something he couldn’t touch.”

Whatever tolerance Y/n and Jamie had start with had long since morphed to a sort of comfortable acquaintanceship. It felt like, without ever moving from their bench, they had made some grand leap into kinship. They were both members of a club neither of them had asked to be in. With their shit spilled out on the ground before them, there was so very little left for them to hide.

“Y’know they’ve never visited me?” Y/n said softly, catching the shock on Jamie’s face out the corner of her eye, “Not once. I’ve been here since I was eighteen…not even for my graduation.”

Jamie watched with sadness as Y/n tried to hide hers. Once they found one another, it felt like there was nothing else to do but…laugh. It was one of those, this is our life laughs. Here we are, our families don’t love us, and it’s not right but here we are. Gentle and faded, but still unbelieving.

“Think we did pretty good,” Jamie said, “Yeah?”

Y/n’s smile came back, she’d allowed Jamie to cross so many of her self-drawn lines and she’d believed it had simply been out of convenience. No, there was something about him she’d only ever recognized in herself. Resilience. “Resentment’s a tremendous motivator, isn’t it?”

Jamie smirked at Y/n, wondering how he’d gravitated towards her knowing just the best, only to find out they had the worst in common. They were both a little broken, and it certainly felt better to be broken with someone else than by himself.

“I’ll drink to that,” he smiled, the two of their paper cups knocking into one another.

————————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan

[multifandomslxt]

BESTIE I NEED FUCKABILITY FOR 127 NEEOOWWWWWW

😭😭

PLEASE

This was sitting in my drafts finished and everything y'all.

MDNI

NCT 127's F*ckability scale

How likely it is that they'll fuck you based on the following...

Taeyong

Calling him Baby boy/ baby/love: This is what I call the rare inevitable fuck because you cannot delay this one baby. He created the sentence "Fuck you into the mattress"

F*ckability 100/10 YES. IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN

Being extremely knowledgeable on something he's interested in: A mouthful I know but not to worry that's not the only thing that's gon' have your mouth full lmaoo. He loves it when intelligence is displayed. Teaching him = seducing him.

F*ckability 10/10 Will Happen

Johnny

Literally just being shorter than him: Self-explanatory. Just struggle to reach the top shelf once and you'll see how just fast he's ready to help and to fuck you into oblivion. He loves that shit man, makes him feel needed.

F*ckability 8/10 Highly Likely

Sarcasm: He loves a sarcastic bitch. let him ask you an obvious question and then you reply sarcastically. He'll be shocked and turned the fuck on. OMFG if you match his energy and be sarcastic to him when he's being sarcastic to you??? Fuck outta hereeeeeee!!! I'm so serious when I say he takes it upon himself to fuck the sarcasm out of you. In other words...he fucks you dumb.

F*ckability 12/10 Will Happen

Yuta

"literally anything"

Eye contact: We all know he likes to stare MFS down. His gaze is piercing I'm sure we've all seen that by now so when I say eye contact I mean how long you can hold his stare. so if you're shy and can't hold his stare he's fucking you. If you can hold his stare...he's still fucking you lmaooo. So it's inevitable just meet his eyes for a millisecond and you'll see.

F*kability 12/10 Will Happen

Sleepy/Morning voice: Just stop. shhhhh. I can confidently say a sleepy/morning voice would make THE NAKAMOTO YUTA harder than a rock and he IS going to tell ask you to fix it.

F*ckability 1000000/10 Will happen (just spread them cheeks and call it a day)

Doyoung

Taking care of him: Specifically when he's sick. My God. you're feeding him soup and the whole time he's just plotting how hard he's going to fuck you once he gets better. Imagination so damn vivid he can hear the sounds of his balls meeting your pu- lemme stop

F*ckability 9.5/10 Extremely Likely

Praising him: Who doesn't like praise?? Hehas a praise kink (you didn't hear it from me)

F*ckability 10/10 Will Happen

Jaehyun

I honestly don't even know what to write here...this man is turned on by any and everything you do once he likes you. He's also always down to fuck so imma just say

F*ckability 14000000/10 (never dropped btw it's been here since he hit 18) WILL HAPPEN JUST NAME THE PLACE AND TIME

Jungwoo

Using his shampoo/cologne: Oddly specific but he loves it when you smell like him. He's obsessed with it actually. He licks you when you do this btw but once again...y'all never heard it from me.

F*ckability 6/10 Likely

Sitting on his lap: 5 minutes tops before y'all are fucking. He's just always horny and for you to sit on his lap knowing this??? yeah he's fucking you dumb <3

F*ckability 9.5/10 Extremely Likely

[h50europe]

So, this happened overnight on my AO3 account for my Buck/Tommy plot. Mornings are for lovers, and I had a blast reading it. So somewhere went out on a limp and left me these notes full of verbal diarrhea.

What I take from it is that Buck has no right of a life on his own. If Eddie's life is in shambles, Buck has to suffer along with him. He has no right to have a happy life with Tommy. He has no right to have sex with Tommy; hell, he shouldn't even have had dinner with Tommy after what happened at Eddie's.

I get it, tin hats, I get it. And there is even a name for it!

These comments only confirm what we know. Bi-Buck is okay as long as he is Bi with Eddie. Bi with Tommy is bad. Het with women is also not okay. Nothing is okay if it is not with Eddie.

I don't know if I should be amused about using Christopher as a cock blocker argument. Hm...

And Tommy is nothing but a plot device for them. Wow, I didn't even know there was a 9-1-1 leaker. I hope they leak, not just BS others.

You know, I truly enjoy being a weirdo if I can be happy for a fictional character to come out after six seasons full of hints about his bisexuality with someone other than his ride-or-die who's currently in an awful mental place (like the Tin Hat followers).

But I refuse to wrap my hat in tin foil concerning "Buddie." I am a multishipper. In Tommy's voice, "You know, you can have more than one ship?"

Why don't they just drop it? Lashing out, pissing in other fans' sandboxes, bullying an actor and his family (until his sister made her IG account private) and fans, taking cameos and recycling them out of context... What's their point? They have none. They just are loud and annoying AF.

I know. I said in another post not to share their toxicity, but... With this post, I kindly asked the sane part of this fandom, don't let yourself be bullied into oblivion. Don't let your voice be drowned out, and for heaven's sake, don't let them take away the fun we have by creating all the wonderful fan art, stories, videos etc. and by sharing our thoughts. Yes, we have to deal with them, as they don't go away.

But they are a minority, only awfully loud, as usual. Those people will never establish themselves in any fandom. And they are cowards because they always come in groups. Even if they have to create sock puppets to make it look like they are many. Echo-chambers can get very lonely and very boring.

I LOVE ALL MY FELLOW TEVAN (or multi)shippers to bits. You have great taste and great empathy, and you show what an awesome supporter of the queer community you are!!!

And for the haters:

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader ❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut ❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love. ❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior. ❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

English is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

Published on AO3 like FleurRi

❣ Prologue: Roses scarlet like blood ❣

 Every story has a beginning: a magical, inexplicable moment—an elusive contact between reality and dreams. When thoughts emerge from the edge of consciousness, a stream of colorless letters appears on the parchment of our fate, eventually becoming an event. Life's intersections, fragments of various plots, are continuously repeated, lost, or deliberately forgotten. They are like unwritten melodies; the echo of their angelic voices follows us through life, like the bright tent of a wandering circus that incessantly makes noise. is full of tinsel, and raves with dreams.

  There are millions of them. No. Billions, like the sleeping stars, sway peacefully on the sky-blue wire; their scattered light tells the wayward souls the way in the velvet folds of the night's darkness. These are our memories. Some are dazzlingly bright, as fresh as summer breezes, while others are barely flickering, covered in the marble ashes of time and a diamond crumb of emotion. And they all live so far away and at the same time prohibitively close together, there, in the labyrinth of the underground sky and on the endless roads of the blood rivers, where it is impossible to find them: in our memory.

  Just as a pebble thrown into the ocean sinks into the murky depths, so does memory. Drowning into the viscous muddy depths without a bottom, in that rich and uncharted area that we call “oblivion,” it sinks in time. And few of us have been given the opportunity to preserve living images of memories of the feelings we have ever experienced: to drown in the bittersweet water of sorrow and joy; to fill our consciousness to the brim, like a vessel with golden honey, with the feelings of pain and keen passion, and to die. Die happy. The greatest privilege of all.

  Seconds, minutes, days, and years—colorful fragments of time; sharp crumbs scattered under our feet. Unlike us, those who plunge into eternal sleep, our memories that have insidiously dissolved in ink in our blood will not disappear. They fear death, flee from it, and hide in the thick of the earth that blossoms with fluttering glass, forget-me-nots and drunken petunias that, in their intoxicating happiness, kiss the eyelashes of the blind God. You hear them whisper, “I’ll never forget you…”

  My story begins with an innocent question that I’m sure you’ve heard more than once: “Do you like roses?”

  Once upon a time, I would have answered, "Yes, I love roses." But, as it turns out, all our words are followed by consequences, and small rosy spikes can be much more dangerous than they seem at first glance, just like in the fairy tales that we were told in childhood.   You know, there are things that we might call fatal: people who decide other people’s lives as long as they reach out to them like they're God. And then there are the flowers, which keep the mysteries tenebrous and ancient.   I'm almost a hundred years old, maybe more. I should start my story right now; this is the perfect moment.

  I will tell you about who I once was and who I am now. I will tell you about love, which is akin to obsession, and the death of her faithful friend. I will also tell you about the people, ghosts, or maybe illusions that were around me. They were with me once…   Now, there are others, but they’ll be in my story later. They will come into my life with a chorus of angelic voices; the sound of a heavy autumn downpour, and the pretentious solemnity of death. Yeah, they’ll be there, though, if you think about it, they were always there, from my first breath to my last breath, by my side.   But I’m forgetting what’s important.   I have to tell you about the roses, and only about them.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Mina's long hair shimmered like luxurious silk under the early morning light. Bloody strands fell in curled doll curls onto her bare shoulders, as if in Baroque paintings. The lush blossoms of white roses woven together in her hair made her look like the ancient Greek goddess of spring.   Her appearance has always been astonishing, blatantly perfect rather than real, but that was sometime in the past. Now she was like a pale ghost of herself, a blurry reflection on a black surface of water on a moonlit night. The only thing that reminded her of her former beauty was her hair, which remained perfectly groomed and scarlet, like blood. Oh yeah, there are still roses.  These flowers… there was something unnatural about them, something otherworldly. Each petal was painfully perfect, as if made of satin. But the flowers were real; they were alive and breathing and too demanding. It seemed that just because they wanted this, Mina could wear them in her hair. It was their choice, not hers.  “Do you like roses, Rosa?” · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

This is the moment when my life changed forever. If I had known that this innocent question would be the beginning of my end, but can this be called the end? Would my answer have been different?

  I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Over and over again, I played this scene like a broken record, crossed my answer out of the script, wrote a new one, and made comments and footnotes, but…   But the answer was the same. I couldn’t change anything; it was destined. Much later, when I fall asleep in a warm bed, I will feel a gentle kiss on my closed eyelids and hear San’s angelic voice whisper in my ear that fate is never wrong. That they would find me or that I would come to them does not matter; in the end, we would still be together in life and in death. In eternity.

  I’ll come back to that later, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll continue. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“They’re beautiful, Mina, but I don’t like them anymore.”  I sounded terribly rude from the outside, and I could see Mina’s eyes filled with tears, as if I had slapped her.

 “But Rosa!” Mina reached out her pale arms to me. “Look how perfect they are; don’t you care about their beauty? Doesn’t your heart beat faster when you look at them? O Rosa, these flowers are special; they never wilt.” She shook her head, as if confirming her words. “Yeosang gave them to me before I left” Her long, thin fingers reaching for the white rosebuds in her hair. “I want to give you one.” Hooking the flower, Mina gently pulled it out of her curls and stretched it towards me. I didn't have the desire to accept her gift; something in her behavior and her voice caused me anxiety. And there was this name: Yeosang. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was a long time ago, and I still remember that Mina mentioned others with that name: Hongjoong, San, and Mingi. They sounded familiar to me as a song once learned by heart. She pronounced them in a special way: with a gentle intonation and an exciting euphoria. As if it had been repeated countless times at the same completely new to her.  All I could hear was the echo of that song, which came along with those names in the conversation. It was an ominous echo, like an impending, inevitable storm. Mina was still holding out a rose, and I looked at her hands. Arms with a faint web of blue veins that looked like dried stems of faint flowers. For some reason, I came up with the idea of sirens holding out their hands to pirates while their voices led them into the welcome embrace of death. Did they look like Mina’s hands now?

I remember these hands weaving long pearl threads into my hair during festivals. I remember the feeling of intertwined fingers as Mina led me down the dark corridors of my grandmother's old house. I remember them gently wiping my tears when I was rubbing my feet until I bled in ballet class.

I remember the touch of those hands… I know him. These cold fingers that so carefully hold the snow-white flower no longer belong to my sister. Their touch changed, becoming foreign and distant, as did the mysterious land where these perfect, never-fading roses grew.

Didn’t that sound like a fairy tale? Just in our history, there has been no magic mirror, no Queen-Witch whose crown shines like a star, and no apple full of poison, but there is a coffin of shimmering crystal, and a prince that sleeps in it. Of course, there are also roses—thousands of roses.

“Rosa” Mina turned to me again. “Please take them; you will surely love them. Just try to feel them…”

She put a flower in my hands. The drops of nectar froze on the wax petals, and the first rays of the dawn sun made them sparkle like diamonds. “This variety is special.” Her voice sounded soft. “It's called the Deva-Rosa. I want to show you where they grow. It’s so beautiful. I want you to come with me, Rosa. We’ll be there together, you and me.” Mina smiled dazzlingly, but something was wrong with that smile. The once-sensual kiss lips were painfully curved, the corners awfully lifted, like the forever-frozen smile of a Venetian mask, and the warm pink shade was gone.

I was always jealous of her lips. They were so tender, plump, and enticing. All her features attracted attention, but it was her lips that made Mina's beauty unique.

She shone like the sun, easily becoming the center of everyone's attention—a beautiful white swan. The main heroine of the story. 

Then there was me, only a shadow of her perfection—gloomy and pale as the moon, the complete opposite of the burning heat and the sexuality of my sister. Unlike Mina's, my features were not sensual and breathtaking; no, they were old-fashioned, like those of a porcelain doll. I didn’t find myself ugly or unattractive; just ordinary. One of a hundred million. The classic tragic heroine of a Gothic novel, someone like me, doesn’t make it to the finale.

Now looking at Mina, I can no longer see her life; her fire has almost been extinguished, leaving embers smoldering. And only her hair, like a burning sunset, was the only bright spot in her appearance. They crimson her white dress like blood rivers in the snow. 

 “Rosa, come with me.” The touch of her hands was icy and gave me a nasty shiver. It wasn’t Mina anymore. “Let's go, please. We can admire roses together. We can be together, Rosa. Remember what we promised each other when we were kids? Forever.”   Mina leaned towards me with her whole body, completely trespassing into my space, and with her intimacy came the suffocating, sugary smell of roses. It was a thick, enveloping aroma that instantly sat in the lungs. I thought that if I breathed it in deeper, these strange, unnatural flowers would sprout in my veins, intertwine with my bones, and create a new home for themselves in my body.

 “No!” I exclaimed, pushing Mina away from me. “I don’t want that, Mina. I don’t want you or those freaking roses in my life.”

  Suddenly on my feet, I took a few steps away from the pale Mina, who was staring at a rose that had fallen to the ground. Her posture was as vulnerable as that of a wounded animal, and her limp arms reached for the flower, which, surprisingly, began to darken and fade, touching the ground.   In her eyes, once radiant with happiness and dreaming, stood tears, and her lips began to tremble. It was as if a child whose beloved toy had been mercilessly abused had fallen to her knees, picked up a dying bud, and, in despair, pinned it to her lips.

“How can you be so cruel, Rosa?” Mina whispered, her lips gently touching the petals. “You hurt them; it breaks their heart. Can’t you just accept their love? Accept the roses?” She continued to kiss the petals.

 “What are you talking about, Mina? Whose love should I accept?” I asked cautiously. Her behavior began to frighten me.

 “You must give yourself to them, Rosa; I must give you to them.” Mina ignored my question, methodically kissing a faded flower. His dead petals began to fall away, slowly, baring his heart. “O Rosa, the rose is a rose; the rose is a deva; the deva is a rose; is a rose.”

 “Mina!” I called her by her name in an alarm. The entire situation had me in a state of primitive terror.   Mina began slowly swaying from side to side in time to your words, all the while continuing to say, “Rose is a rose, the rose is a deva.” It was meaningless, like the ravings of a madman.  The words were repeated in an endless circle, like a prayer or a ritual chant. Mina’s voice grew louder, higher, and higher until it broke, and abruptly she stopped all movement, standing there like a graceful statue.

  Once I admired her every move; now I want to cover my eyes so I never have to see her again.   What happened after became the most traumatic thing in my life. I can never forget it, no matter how much I want it. It seemed to be imprinted on my eyelids, and even after closing my eyes in my sleep, I couldn’t get rid of those memories.

  Her movements were fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly. Here she is before me, tense and waiting, and then her throat crosses a ragged line, and blood rushes through her body like a waterfall.

  Eyes shining from tears are wide open and so resemble smooth black pearls, and lips are opened as if waiting for a kiss.   For a second, Mina's body stretched like a thin string and then softened, falling on the grass.   I heard someone start screaming; the sound was so deafening and heartbreaking that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my ears with my hands, so I couldn’t hear.

  I found myself screaming. I needed to call for help; I had to call an ambulance, and I had to try to help her. Put my arms around her neck and cover her gaping red velvet wound.

  But I was yelling about something else instead.   My name is not Rosa; you hear me, Mina!   I am not her. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I awoke in a frenzy, sweating profusely and with a wildly pounding heart from an endlessly recurring nightmare.

 This dream has haunted me for months since Mina’s funeral. Night after night, I have lived this sunrise over and over again. I didn’t like morning anymore; I started avoiding sunlight and hiding in the velvet folds of the night, sharing my loneliness with the darkness. I made the moon my friend, and the stars my silent witnesses.

  My memory is folded paper, folded a thousand times. Sometimes, I want to unwrap it, but not completely: open the brittle edges of the fragile sashes, smooth out the folds and creases with my fingers, spread out the time sequence. Unwrap it just a little, and then fold again, mixing letters and days, reality and dreams. I never want to open the pages where the memories of that morning are stored. Every time I get almost to the end, moments before the final, I run away to the safety of happy days.

  I try to come up with a new ending to this story, a different ending, but the dream comes to me like a cat, gently calling me into its embrace, and I find myself again in a place I don’t want to be.

  It’s early in the morning, and the sun is just rising above the horizon, shimmering like a limitless purple-pink ocean.

 In Mina’s crimson hair are snow-white roses, and her dress looks like an intricately woven ruffle and lace. Her pale hands holding flowers, her puffy lips in a painful smile, and her bare feet—the ground must be cold since it was the middle of October.  Her blood… and the roses.   And if it were possible to personify hatred and death, then for me, it would be roses.

  I hated and despised these flowers with all my heart. They brought only sorrow and gloominess into my life. The beautiful symbol of mourning solemnity.   They started it. They ended it all.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I was sixteen when Mina first called me Rosa. One January afternoon, she came home with a basket of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Scarlet like the blood of a rose, they were magnificent and perfect. From that day on, I became Rosa. Why did Mina start calling me that? She never spoke.   But she completely forgot my real name. For the whole world, I was now Rosa.   After this case, every day in our small apartment, the roses became more and more numerous, until every inch of free space was filled with scarlet buds. Their smell was suffocating, thick, and sticky like honey. It is absorbed into the skin, hair, and dissolved in the blood. It made me dizzy and nauseous, and I could taste it on my tongue with every breath.   But it wasn’t just a smell. It was a color that screamed “red,” like blood itself. It poured over our house, coloring the entire apartment in a disturbing shade.

  After that, every day in our house, the roses became more and more numerous until they filled all the surrounding space.

  Soon, they became so numerous that our house looked like a tomb filled with scarlet petals hanging from the ceiling. We've been arranging here with all honors, breathing in a haze as imperceptible as rose-scented mist. 

  In all the time I lived there, not a single flower withered. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Day followed night, and night gave way to day; but no petal lost its pristine beauty, and no bud bowed its heavy head in sorrow. There was not a single bouquet that would dilute this velvet sea with its mourning black.

  And if that did happen, Mina cried long and hard over these flowers and blamed herself for not saving them. At night, I heard the sound of her apologies and her fanatical prayers. 

  Whether she prayed to God or to the Devil, I couldn't tell. I'll find out for whom these prayers were intended many years later.

  Roses were always sent with a postcard and a box of expensive chocolates with some intricate filling. The box was necessarily in the form of a heart. The signature was also one; once the unchanged calligraphic handwriting deduced only one phrase, “For you,”

  Mina never told me who gave her these magic flowers or why the roses didn’t wither.

  I tried to ask her these questions several times, but she only brushed them off, throwing her long hair from one shoulder to the other and angrily declaring, “You must love them; you don't need to know more.”

 Mina also dyed her hair scarlet, like roses.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly surrounded by these flowers was unbearable, and one day I packed up all my things and moved in with a friend, leaving Mina alone in her regal rosary.

  My first night away from home, away from the roses and Mina, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned anxiously in bed hour after hour; but the dream never came, and then the phone rang. Mina called. Crying, she begged to come home, and when I asked her why, she barely whispered, “The roses are wilted.”

  I hung up, and Mina never called me again. Two years had passed. My life had changed, and I think my luck had smiled. I found wonderful friends who were eccentric and bright. I had a great and caring boyfriend, and the internship at ballet school was promising. Everything worked out perfectly, and there were no more roses.

 Until my twentieth birthday, a huge bleeding bouquet of scarlet roses tied with topaz-embroidered ribbon appeared in my new apartment. The candy box was heart-shaped, and the caption read, “For You.”

  I burned the bouquet, threw out the chocolate, and tore the note apart, and blew it to the wind.

  No one was supposed to see or know.   Even me.    Exactly eight days after these flowers appeared, I got a call from former neighbors in the apartment complex Mina was still living in.   I was urged to come and deal with the situation; the smell of rot and death was unbearable, and Mina didn't open the doors or answer the phone.   I opened the door with my key. Opening it wide, I crossed the threshold and could not contain a short scream. All the once-luxurious roses had rotted, dripping thick, stinking jugs on the floor and accumulating in gleaming poisonous lakes. Every corner of the space was occupied by large vases with black velvet buds and tall candles. After my move, Mina got rid of all the furniture, leaving only the big bed, which was now covered with dried stems strewn with thorns.

 This place was like a grave — cold and dark — where my sister was supposed to rest.   Going deeper, I found no hint of Mina's presence. Absolutely nothing.     Only putrid roses and an empty heart-shaped box.

  Mina was gone. For a whole year, I tried to find her without success. Old friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and any other connections she might have ever had—I checked everything, but there was nothing to help me find her. It’s like she never existed.

 In the two years we’ve been apart, I didn’t know anything about her. Mina didn’t call, and when I tried to contact her, she would reply with a short message, always the same: "Roses have wilted; come back." just like the night I left her.

  All Mina had ever thought about since that unfortunate January day were these sinister roses.

  The police began an investigation. Two years after her disappearance, Mina became officially missing.

  And a year after that, she showed up at my door in the twilight of the fall morning, barefoot, in a sophisticated lace dress with a rose crown on her head. From the Mina that I knew, all that remained was her hair—long, silky, and crimson like blood and roses.

  She still kept calling me Rosa, calling me out, and promising that we’d be happy together. That it will be only us, forever. She promised to show me where these strange flowers bloom, which she called the Deva-Rose, although these were not her words, but those of someone distant and unfamiliar to me, Hongjoong.

  And then...then Mina died. The dawn painted her body in pink shades, flooded the grass with sparkling gold, and dyed the white roses of her crown scarlet. She slit her throat. Ragged a sharp spike into it. As it turned out, even the tiniest rose spikes were deadly.   It was a nightmarish and, at the same time, majestic end to her story.   The image of Mina haunts me in dreams even now—this distant gaze in her pearly eyes and a complete absence of fear of death. No, Mina wasn't afraid. She welcomed death as an old friend, graciously opening her arms.

  It was her exodus.   I remember screaming loudly. Blood thundered in my ears, and tears flowed in an endless crystal stream. I screamed that my name wasn’t Rosa; that I wasn’t her, and never would be.

  Her funeral was truly a royal one. Rain and thunder rattle in the sky, as if raising a toast in her honor. The flat haloes of the black umbrellas swayed peacefully as the guests made their sorrowful speeches.

  Mina seemed to fall asleep, dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress, lying there like a princess, drowning in thousands of roses.   The flowers were brought at dawn. Their color was deep and dark, as if every petal was filled with the gloaming of the night. They mourned with me.   But I knew better. It wasn’t the end; it was the beginning.  Death follows life in an endless cycle of rebirth. When one flower fades, plant a new one.  Back home that night, I found a black envelope at my door, sealed with a monogram wax seal.

  It lacked an address and the sender's signature. The message was clear and concise. "I live for you, my Rosa."

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·   I went to the window and opened the curtains with my newfound determination. It’s time to stop being afraid and run away. Whatever it is, I’ll find out what happened to Mina. Let her start it all, but I’ll be the one to finish the story.   The last surviving girl.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·   How naive I was then, how stupid. The moth always flies to the flame, attracted by the warm fluttering light; he himself goes to his death.

I was that moth. Without realizing it, I came to my inevitable fate, which has been waiting for me for centuries, maybe longer. Their hands have stretched out since the darkest times, when the light didn't exist, and the Devil was as real as you and I. At that time, everyone knew his face, felt his hot breath on his skin.   The story I’m going to tell you isn't going to be bright and sweet; we’re going to go down to hell and come back. I'll take you through the dark woods to the horrors of uncharted lands where barefoot priestesses rock their sharp teeth in alluring smiles. I will take you to the castle where the prince rests in a crystal coffin and make you drink wine that tastes like blood.

  Now I have to ask you, "Are you afraid of the dark and what’s hidden in it?"   But my question is, "Love, do you like roses?"

[therantsofawriterrr]

Alright so before i start writing my tua fix-it fic to keep my own sanity, i kinda wanna rant a bit coz this show is genuinely one of those which are very close to my heart. Emo talk/rant and spoilers underneath the cut

Alright so, the first season was released on 2019, right? I watched it on december 2020. There was a thing here where netflix kinda made the services free for two days, and i only got one day cause the first day, the seats were full or smn like that. my original plan for it had been to watch stranger things, but i ended up watching tua. it was the show that kind of introduced me to gore and dark humor and stuff, plus, its one of those shows which has perfect balance between all the genres.

Immediately in the first season, it was established that even if it has love stories for its characters, it's ultimately also a story of love between siblings. a love story of a son having love for his mother just because she was there. a love story of sisters. a love story of a brother keeping his dead one alive just cause he was needed and also cause he didn't deserve to die that soon. a love story of a bunch of people hating their situations and places in their world, but loving it enough to know that they have to save it. a love that made someone come back to his family even though he knew they were chaotic and shitty and idiotic, but his family nonetheless.

It kept being re-established in the next two seasons (yes, I'm counting s3 because it was just as fun as the other two) in various moments that I'm sure all of us can remember.

Five was the dearest character to me for just one reason. He was the kid who had that burden of growing up fast and the maturity that comes with it. He was always the one trying to save his family and there were many moments when he was just overwhelmed and struggling while his siblings were having their own struggles. But, ultimately he was lonely, because he had gone through too much all by himself, and its not really something that he can put into words. I related to that. I was and probably still am in a similar situation.

Then, the writers had to ahead and fuck it all to oblivion. They had to, first of all, ruin the sibling-coded besties dynamic between Five and Lila. Was it just me who got the ick watching that montage of them on the train? And the greenhouse scene? wtf. Neither Five nor Diego deserved that. Also, Five would never do that. Not to mention Lila wouldn't do that. They could've just left it with the fact that they were having a rough patch and were trying to work through it. Like i get it, you wanna make the timelines look messy and all but that was unwarranted and idc what anyone says.

Also, all the characters were just butchered this season and almost none of the plot points established in s3 were literally just forgotten??? Thats not vv nice. they just left us with more questions for this being a final season.

Anyway, imma start working on the fix it fic. I'm gonna try to be frequent with it, but just expect me to post drabbles for other stuff cause writers block takes a hold of me fast. but i'll still try to update.

[shoot-of-corruption]

Blog Announcement

Hi there my lovelies! It is a rare guest, Ria here :D

I put on an Oblivion Let's Play to hold my blood pressure low while formulating this announcement, so you better settle down with me xD

I would like to announce here how I will deal with my main blog and all my side blogs on tumblr from now on.

As most of you know, I am working a full time job in retail, so my nervous costume tends to be a tiny bit thin after around 9,5hrs of shift. I am happy to announce to you all that my time as a worker in retail is finally a finite one. If everything works out right, I won't just be able to start a homeoffice job by next year, but also live at a completely different place and city. Sadly there is still a good while of wait ahead of me until then and a lot of things are unsure as of yet. But I will do my best to get to that destination, because right now everything is pretty much murdering me.

What does that mean for my blogs? I have been on Hiatus for a long while, on and off, over years. And yet I have always returned here, more or less satisfied or happy with my performance or the RPC.

From this day on I will treat myself better about being able to come here and also, I will not spread myself thin anymore. I will transform Mariku into an Ask- and Art-Blog. Interactions are always welcome, on and off Anon, as well as dash commentary or writing pieces and updates of myself. You can tag Mariku and me in everything, the followed tags will stay the same, I will just update a few things on my BIO in the next days etc. [maybe I'll finally force myself to make a card, should the mobile pages not work anymore].

Things that will for the close future not be done on my blogs:

RP-Threads: no matter if long, short, or anything. I am torturing myself, because I cannot say no to new thread ideas and the moment I really get invested into plots, threads, ideas or anything alike, my partners tend to just leave and let me drop like a hot potato and I honestly neither need nor want that hate in my life anymore.

Anon-Hate: Will NOT be displayed on this channel. I will keep my Inbox with anonymous messages on, but every piece of disgusting hate will be immediately plucked out of the screen and burned in a bonfire. You will not get a stage here and you can be assured, that I will piss and shit on your disgusting hatred and then laugh about it for the coming week, because you are the most pathetic thing that I had the displeasure of even having to lay a momentary glance on <3

RPC/personal Drama: I will ignore drama and strictly remove myself from it. I will not be part or target of any hatred, impulsive meanness and/or random bouts of radical opinions. If you don't feel seen/represented in my opinions, turn around and find a place you fit into, but leave me and my muses alone.

Things that will be done on this blog (and partly my side blogs):

Ask-Memes: Of any kind. Ask-Plots, random asks, symbol ask memes, color memes, background memes, AU-memes and YES, also art related asks.

Open Commissions: I will open art commissions again after I had a bit more training on my tablet, for everybody, who wants to commission art. They will likely be limited and they may also for training reasons only be for free for training, thus included in art memes, but I will open paid commissions eventually again, definitely this year. I cannot tell you details, yet, but keep your eyes peeled ;)

IMs and Mun related things: You are definitely allowed to write IMs and ask me questions!! I am here to have fun as all of us are, so if your fun includes coming into my IMs and leaving a cat meme each day or send me weird asks, I am all here for it!! All of this might sound very dickish of me, but I just feel like I get too emotionally hurt and immersed and I want to protect me from bad feelings and you from my wrath xDDD

Thank you for reading all of this and I hope all of us can stick to those ground rules (for now) - we will get on peachy! If the fact that I am not RPing (for now) on here is breaking you beyond compare, I do own a Discord and I am usually willing to share it. Please contact me on here before adding me, so I know who exactly is adding me on there, otherwise, I might not accept your request. Discord: sangnoire

I will warn you though, that I will be very selective with accepting RPs and partners on there still and that any unwillingness to accept that will be met with... a uno-reverse card reaction x'D

[tobiasdrake]

Well, I was supposed to wake up in a field but instead.....

Some sorta void beyond time and space. Neat. It would seem I have gained the ability to determine for myself how far back to loop.

I credit this new ability to my brilliant decision to touch the timedrop. Clearly, I have absorbed its power and added it to my own through temporal osmosis. I have based this observation on nothing whatsoever but I will hear no argument otherwise.

In any case... I still need to find out who keeps breaking that bread so--

Oh my god you read my Pocket Notes and listen in on my conversations and now you're just being controlling I NEED SOME SPACE LEMONFRIEND

>_< I am in a toxic relationship. With time.

A revelation that wasn't the main goal of dipshitting myself into oblivion but is a welcome discovery nonetheless. At least we know that everyone who's frozen is a) somewhat conscious but b) not in a state where they would be suffering.

10/10 Great service, satisfying experience. I look forward to killing myself again in the future.

Alright. Well. Guess we'll get back to it. Grab the tonics from the side room and my ding ding and then--

No. Fuck you.

I was thinking about my ding ding it could not be helped

Ugh, this place is so rude! I want to file a complaint.

Moving right along. Nothing to see here.

Like those two buildings back in Dormont that are inexplicably locked. Must be some kind of regional locking mechanism popular in this area but I have no idea what.

Oh, there we go. That was easy. So we just need to figure out the pass phrase for any of these doors we find.

I see where this is going. It would behoove me to throw myself on that Tear over yonder and die so I can go get the password.

...but I have the utmost confidence that I'll get myself stupidly killed anyway soon, so I don't need to bother.

In a suspicious place, yes. That sure is a pillar.

I do not trust this pillar, okay?

This pillar is watching us.

Plotting.

It knows I'm on to it.

You say that like we should feel bad for it, Isa. Unfortunately, feeling bad for things is a form of Sadness so I'm afraid all of my sympathy's getting chopped up with scissors.

Along with this boss fight.

Alright, cool. Some kind of key thing that can be used to something something with the tears, so let's keep going and--

...okay so maybe it's actually dangerous to hussle the group past all of the deathtraps I already know about. I may be trapfinding so well at this point that it's putting everyone in danger.

Who would do something so monstrous

Okay now I'm super onboard. King needs to die.

Go on, Bonnie. Take a wok on the wild side. *wok-a wok-a*

Am I... am I supposed to scramble it? Wait, is this a metaphor? Does this key have gender dysphoria that it hasn't quite realized yet?

...so that's a yes. Yes, the key has undiagnosed gender dysphoria.

Cool. I'm happy I caught that. I feel proud of myself for my ability to pick up LGBT subtext.

This philosophy is pretty deep. I took the religion of Change for a silly joke at first but no, this is some serious shit.

Is this whole religion a metaphor for the experience of being LGBT? There is clearly some strong coding going on here with Vaugardian society. In fact, the entire concept of worshipping change is itself so tightly connected to gender and the trans/non-binary experience that--

BONNIE

NO

You take that gender out of your mouth this instant! The experience of self-discovery is NOT breakfast!

*sigh* Kids.