#it’s not even a celebratory image

[zadien]

Love when Twitter hockey teams post after the game an image with the caption “The Final Score” and nothing else.

Aye, so the final score is what?! Did they win? Did they lose?

Schrödinger’s hockey team.

[niinnyu]

WHA #80 SPOILERS

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This spread has had me thinking so much.

While this is very much Coco reminding herself that she's not alone and that there are people she cares about and has with her as she moves forward despite being scared, I also can't help but interpret this another way.

Talking about how one must etch the people important to you into you heart, imagination and mind. That can do anything if you have ink, paper and a pen. And how even if they're not there with you, you're not alone and they're with you.

Adding Coco as part of the illustration while showing another pair of hands separate from her, drawing it. Putting in Jujy, Sinocia, and Ermile; all people Coco has barely interacted with to have too much of a strong impression of.

It feels like a subtle 4th wall break on Shirahama Kamome's part.

This dropping close to the 8th anniversary of Witch Hat Atleier's manga serialisation, and so many years before of creating the world and characters interacting in the world, feels so special. Because you can tell how special these people are to Coco, and to Shirahama herself, who's put in so much work and love into them.

This page gave me goosebumps.

[last-starry-sky]

let it out pt. 1 - 141xreader

(aka - the unhinged fivesome fic i've had cooking for ages and decided to finish for my stupid mental health)

[NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: 4.9k, alcohol/drinking mention, implied past misogyny, smoking mention, everything from here on is dub-con (this is your only warning): kissing, nipple-play, biting, dry humping, mmmf foursome (sorry, someone gets left out in this part 😔), also, possibly the worst cliffhanger i've ever left a chapter on.]

You knew you should have locked the door.

“What in the hell’s gotten into you?” Soap shouted, more drunk than loud, blowing right through the door. Didn’t even bother to knock. 

Not that it mattered. The room was still mostly empty, with only your duffel thrown in the corner to mark it as any different from the hundreds of others. If you were lucky, you would all be leaving again in a few hours, and this ugly, anonymous, concrete box of a base in the middle-of-nowhere would be nothing but a hazy memory. One in a long string of others that would soon fade back into nothing. A boring footnote at the end of a frustrating mission.

You sighed as you rolled to face him. You had been staring at the ceiling on your shitty little bed, arms crossed and still fully clothed, minus your boots. Those you’d kicked off once you’d returned to “your” room, letting them crash into the corner not caring what they took with them. You’d thrown yourself down onto the thin mattress with a huff, intent on stewing in your anger for the rest of the night. Maybe in the morning you would be able to face your “teammates” with more than a forced smile. 

Soap stood over you, hands on his hips, dark eyebrows pushing a thick crease into the center of his forehead. His cheeks were still slightly blushed from the first few rounds of celebratory, post-mission drinks with the team. The ones you had just skipped out on. 

What should have been a relaxing evening to bond with your teammates had felt like a joke. You had quietly sat at the table with the four other men, sipping your beer while they laughed and animatedly told stories. Soap had even thrown his arm around you more than once, usually at the point his story where you had tried to do something. Tried.

“Can’t leave out the part with Medic!” he had said, “She’s the only reason any ov’ us made it out in one piece!” 

You’d answered his friendliness with a terse, cold smile. It’s like he had gone on a completely different mission from you. You’d made an excuse to visit the bathroom while Price and Gaz had gone out for a smoke, making a break for your room.  

“Nothing,” you lied, jaw tight. The short nails digging into your skin as you turned away. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like drinks tonight.”

“Ah, you’re a shit liar, Medic,” he said, a playful edge to his harsh tone, as he pointed at you. He moved to the side of your bed, his blue eyes able to keep boring down into you. 

You chose ignore him, rolling over to your back to stare at the ceiling again. Fuck him. He didn’t outrank you. He let out a frustrated huff and sat down on your bed. The frame creaked loudly as he did, rolling you suddenly against as his weight dipped the mattress. 

“Come on, Medic. Talk t’ me,” he pleaded, his voice low and soft. The crease in his forehead remained. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t know, Soap,” you said letting out a breath as you continued staring at the water marks in the tiles above you. Anything to keep your eyes from wandering to his face. Those sad, puppy-dog eyes of his would have cracked your resolve instantly and you knew it. “Just don’t understand why I was even needed on that mission.”

His concerned face came into view as he leaned over you. 

“The fuck you mean by that?”

You sat up and backed away, averting your gaze pointedly away from him as you pulled your knees to your chest. You didn’t want the image of him hovering over you to get too comfortable in your head. Thankfully, he moved to let you sit up. You were over your little pity party anyway. You were ready to talk like an adult. 

“Don’t act stupid, Soap,” you said softly with just a little bit of petulance left in your tone. “All four of you did the same thing all mission.” 

While he continued to stare at you: open mouthed and confused, you moved, throwing your legs over the side of the bed to sit at his side. You tried to put some distance between the two of you, but you had scant room left as he was already in the middle of your tiny mattress. It forced you to press your knees and thighs to his. You could feel his warmth bleed through his jeans. How that man could run so warm was a medical mystery, one that made you shiver. 

“What?” he asked, turning to you with eyebrows raised, all the more concerned. “Wha’d we do?” 

You rolled your eyes and shot an exasperated look his way. How could he be so dense? Did he not even realize how the whole team had been treating you for the past month? 

“What did you do?” you answered him mockingly. “You spent the whole mission making me feel useless! Anytime any of you got injured you were pushing me away! Me!” you said pointing at your chest. “I’m a medic, Soap! Your medic. That’s the whole reason I’m here! I’ve been doing this job for years! I’ve been on multiple special forces teams before this. What more do I have to do to prove to you I can do my job?” 

Soap was silent, which concerned you. He stared down at his hands between his legs. You could feel he was holding something back, something he didn’t want to tell you. A tear rolled down your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what the root of the problem was.  

“Is it . . . is it because I’m a woman? Is that why?” you asked, wiping at your eyes. It was painful to even say it. You’d faced this before, you weren’t stupid. Some, no, scratch that most, teams were a boys only club, and you just had to grit your teeth through it until you were reassigned. “You know, if you want a man-”

“No!” he yelled, interrupted you, grabbing for your hand as you wiped away your tears. You snatched it out of his involuntarily. 

“Then what is it?” you snapped back, still in no mood to dick around. If you needed to talk to Price and get your bag packed tonight, then so be it. You’d rather take care of this sooner than later. 

Soap wrapped his arms around you, surprising you. He held you to his chest for a moment, running his hands down your back. You tried to push yourself away, shoving at his unyielding stomach and squeaking out his name against his chest, all to no avail. He was just too strong. 

“Calm down, hen. Calm down. Don’t fight me,” he said softly in your ear. “Give me a chance to speak m’ piece, hear?” 

You complied with a groan, ceasing your struggle. This wasn’t professional, obviously, but you couldn’t find a reason to fight it anymore. You let him hold you for a moment, the constant thrum of his heart pounding in your ear. He was so warm too. You wished you could give in, just melt into the surrounding heat of his arms and chest. You knew it was just because you were stressed and hadn’t been touched in, fuck, it had to be months now, but still. 

“You’re right. Sorry. Sorry we treated you like that,” he confessed. 

His hands slid over your shoulders, releasing you from most of his steely grip. You didn’t try to wrench away this time, but you did rest your hands on his chest. The feel of his pectoral muscles, even though they were softened by the cotton of his shirt, made you tremble. This was terribly dangerous territory to be treading in. 

“Didn’t mean to. Honest. We’re all just . . .” he trailed off, letting his head cock to the side as he flexed his hands on your upper arms.

You pulled away, just enough to look up at his face. You didn’t want him to hide, not now. You were teammates after-all. You actually wanted to stay teammates for once, not get bounced from team to team, from one group of assholes to another every six months. The wear of never being able to put down roots, let alone connect to the humans you were keeping alive was starting to fray your psyche. Some days you felt like little more than a sentient med-bag. 

With the 141 though, it felt different. You didn’t want to lose that. You’ve been together through the standard life-and-death situations and made it out alive. You’d slept side by side in the gravel, shared cold MRE’s in the dark, even tended to each other’s wounds when they’d let you. There was no need for him to hide the truth from you. Besides, you’d been weak for Soap from the moment you met but managed to keep it professional, barely. You’re pretty sure the cocky bastard knows it too. As much as you wanted him, you valued your job and position over any selfish need for sexual fulfillment. 

“We’re scared shitless ‘a losing you,” he continued with a pained sigh, leaning in to press his lips to your eyebrow, strong, calloused hand gripping your bicep. 

Oh. His words made your brain flat-line. Well, you thought. This was . . . new? A team that actually cared about you?

His hand cupped your jaw; warm, rough fingers smoothing over your cheek and neck. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, partly from pleasure, partly to suppress any embarrassing noises. There was no way was this happening. 

“We all are,” he continued, warm breath fanning across your face. “Know you can handle yourself. It’s just . . . anytime it gets hot and we start getting hit, something in me . . . all of us . . . just wants to protect you.”

You smiled, lip falling out of the grip of your teeth. No one had ever said something so caring to you before, least of all a fellow soldier. 

“That’s a dumb fucking reason, Soap,” you said weakly back to him. 

You thumped a fist on his chest once, trying to cover your wavering voice and vulnerability with sarcasm. You wished he would take the bait like others had in the past, but he didn’t. He sat there in silence, still holding your face, waiting for you. You sighed as he pressed his hand to the small of your back. 

“Do you know how stressed out you guys made me?” you finally let out. Tears piqued in the corner of your eyes again, hazing your vision. “Like everyday? Your lives are in my hands and you wouldn’t-”

“I know,” he interrupted you with a groan, hand moving up your back to stroke at your neck. You sighed, leaning into his hand as he massaged you. “‘s not right. I’ll talk to the guys later about it, if you want. Doan think we don’t want you, because we do. Honest.” 

He looked down at you with those blue eyes, practically glowing with emotion, and . . . how can you refute him when you can read him so plainly? His eyes spoke sadness through that stare in a way that words failed. There was also something darker there: a drunken, feral hunger that’s blowing his pupils wide as he cradled your head. It’s eating those precious blue irises until there’s nothing left but a dark pit of lust. Your hand clutched tighter on his shirt, pulling the collar enough to reveal his collarbone. It’s a pit you’re both precipitously close to falling over.  

“I would . . . appreciate that,” you sighed as his thumb stroked over your cheek. 

You tried to keep your eyes on the scar on his chin, but it only drew you to his lips and that delicious dark stubble. He had been back on base for less than a day, but he still hadn’t shaved post-mission. You wondered if he had taken your half-joking comment about how men are more attractive with facial hair to heart. You broke your eyes away, not wanting to countenance that line of thought. At least not while he was still tenderly cradling your face. 

“Would rather be there to say it myself, though” you continued airily. 

Soap drew his fingers out over your face, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip. You let your eyes fall shut again despite yourself. You felt his hoppy breath waft over your face as he tightened his grip on the back of your neck. 

“Get it all out . . . in front of everyone,” you said, finishing your thought with a struggle.

“Yeah,” he said, his nose nudging yours. “Let it out.”

Before you can stop him - fuck, like you wanted to stop him now - he pulled you into his lap, slotting his mouth over yours for a kiss. There’s no warning. No gentleness or confessions. Shit like that fell fast to the wayside in the military. It had made you sad at first, the loss of intimacy inherent in building a romantic relationship, but fuck it. You need this. You give into his lead completely: the desperate way he forced himself into your mouth, all passion, teeth and tongue. You balled both your hands in his shirt and hold on for dear life.

He hummed, pleased with himself, as he broke away to kiss down your neck. You’re no better though. You’re moaning right along with him, telegraphing loud and clear how well he’s breaking you down, how much you want him. He doesn’t waste time as he sucks hickies onto your throat, rucking up your shirt to paw at your bra at the same time. Alone time is another one of those luxuries the military makes you ration: never knowing when someone will burst in the door to call you away. He’s obviously hungry to get your tits out and he’s not letting a second go to waste. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” a gruff voice said flatly behind you. 

Both you and Soap looked up in shock at the large, masked, black-clad figure filling your doorway. You didn’t even hear the door open. Wait, fuck, had Soap left it open this whole time? You tried to wriggle away, pushing at Soap’s shoulder, not wanting your Lieutenant of all people to see you like this: shirt half off, face flushed with fresh, wet bites coloring your neck. Soap held on to you though, his full strength holding you to his body as you tried to kick away. He simply tucked back into your neck, continuing to blindly unclasp your bra. 

“Medic’s stressed, LT. Wanna help?” Soap mumbled playfully, giving up on getting under your bra, switching instead to pulling your shirt up off your chest. 

Soap is putting you on display for your superior officer: a present with the wrapping peeled off the corner, just waiting to be torn in to, tempting the other man to join. Your eyes are wide, pleading silently with Ghost to take even the smallest amount of mercy on you. Your brain is racing to concoct some plausible story to get both you and Soap out of this mess with your jobs and it’s not looking good. 

Ghost continued to lean against the wall, arms crossed across that broad chest, masked face passively observing you and Soap without a hint of emotion. Soap managed to peel your shirt off of your chest, forcing your arms off of him for a moment to push it up. It’s Ghost, however, that grabs it from behind, guiding it up off your arms, tossing it behind him. It sends a shiver up your spine how silent he is. You didn’t hear him approach, but you can feel energy radiating off him as he stands behind you. 

Soap does away with your bra with those practiced, nimble hands of his once it’s exposed. Once you’re fully bare, he’s pushing you off his lap to kneel on the floor in front of you. You stare down at him as he kisses his way across your chest, his hands stroking up and down your ribs while pressing your breasts together at their peak, mostly so that you aren't forced to face Ghost in this state. A gasp catches in your throat as Soap finds his prize. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and you can’t help but screw your eyes shut and let out a high-pitched whine. You’re silently glad it wasn’t his name. 

You feel Ghost’s gloved hand scrape along the back of your neck: thumb on your spine, long fingers curled around your artery. Your skin prickles underneath it.

“Gotta plan, Johnny?” Ghost asks him, deep voice rumbling gravel-rough as he tests his fingers against your skin and you whimper. You know he’s strong. Know he can snap necks with those hands. You’ve seen it. Fuck if it isn’t making your pussy clench at how gentle he is, how rough he could be. 

“Fuck, LT. Stayin’ right here,” He says breathlessly, breaking away only long enough to answer your superior. 

Soap cups a breast in each hand, gently squeezing as he moves to lay an open mouthed kiss on your sternum. He tweaks your wet nipple with a moan, absorbed already in his own pleasure. Soap always was too loud. Too vocal. 

“Ain’t she fuckin’ beautiful, Ghost? Doan be shy. Join in.”

Ghost’s fingers flex on the back of your neck again, breaking your stare away from Soap as he works kisses over to your other breast. You weakly wrap your arms around Soap’s shoulders, finding comfort in holding him, something solid in this tumult you’ve been thrown into. He’s at least obvious with what he wants. Ghost is a variable, an unknown. You still aren’t sure what he’s going to do even as he closes his fingers deliciously around your throat; weak moans falling from your mouth. 

He could easily turn on his heel and have the both of you court marshaled by morning. You know it. You know he could read the fear in your eyes when you first saw him. He’s seen it before. It’s life and death. The fear of whatever decision he makes, it may change both Soap and your lives forever. His eyes are as dark and unreadable as Soap’s are bright and expressive. The flex of his gloved fingers on your neck and the subtle shift of his hips in his tac-pants makes you bite your lip. A swipe of his thumb over your lip, pulling it out from your teeth, tells you his decision without a word. 

That’s when Soap finally locked his lips around your other nipple. He sucked hard, teeth scraping over the sensitive bud. Ghost’s hands kept your head locked, eyes boring down into you, standing over you, keeping you beneath him, powerless. You closed your eyes, locked your fingers into Soap’s mohawk and moaned, throwing your head back as you let it out. 

Ghost let go of your head suddenly. He walked in awkwardly large steps around Soap as he rounded your bed. 

“Keep that mouth quiet then,” he said, an order to himself. “Can’t have the whole base showin’ up.”

You felt the mattress sink behind you a moment later, followed by Ghost snaking his arms around you. One hand on your stomach, one on your jaw, locking you in place. You shuddered, leaning into the cold, rough texture of the gloves on his hands. You could feel the buttons on his shirt as his chest pushed flush to your back. 

Fuck, he’s so big. So strong, you thought. Not that you had much time for that. The hand on your stomach left to pull up the bottom of his mask before quickly falling back in place, his other hand tilting your head back to slot his mouth over yours.

It sent your mind into another galaxy. This shouldn’t be happening, your closest teammates: Soap and Ghost, both pawing over your body, touching, kissing, pleasing you. You were all beyond unprofessional at this point. Never mind how much you’ve been fantasizing about this, about all of them. 

It had been a tortuous downward spiral ever since you swore you would be right behind them, ready at a moment's notice to put them back together, to put your own body on the line to save them. That was your promise, your personal mission: to get them home alive. You wondered if that was what triggered this protective attitude of theirs. Not that the in’s and out’s of how you all ended up like this really mattered. The reality of the situation was: If Price ever found out you were all dead.

Soap’s hands brace on both of your thighs as he begins to kiss down your torso, a new goal in mind. 

Ghost, your god damn lieutenant, of all people, always so cold and calculating. You felt he should have been the last person listening to Soap’s crazy ideas to crawl into your bed. He shouldn’t be holding you like a china doll, petting your face as he peppers gentle, unsure, little kisses over your lips. You shouldn’t be demurely shying away from the skin he’s revealing to you, but here you are. You lay your hand over his on your hip and he breaths a silent groan across your mouth. He just stays like that for a moment, holding and listening to you as Soap lays messy kisses south of your navel, tickling you with his head and facial hair. 

“Ghost,” you moan, gripping his gloved hand, hoping it goads him into what you want: kissing you deeper, as Soap pops open the fly of your pants.

It does. He obliges immediately, pushing himself into your mouth, swirling your tongue with his. Your cry covers his whine. It all feels too good, too much. The rain breaking loose over the parched desert soil. It didn’t matter anymore, the consequences. You just wanted this. You were ready to take as much as they could give until the flood swept you away. 

“Woah,” a familiar voice called from the door. 

Fuck. You know that voice. Gaz. 

Ghost’s hand on your jaw kept you from breaking away. He wasn’t done with you yet. You feel Soap turn away from working your pants off. The door creaks partially shut behind Gaz as he enters, sticky bottoms of his boots squeaking against the clean floor. 

“Came to check on Medic,” he continued, far too cool and collected. “See if she’s okay. Didn’t, ah. Didn’t expect this.” 

He isn’t backpedaling out of your room. He isn’t apologizing or telling the other men to break it up. Fuck, he’s walking farther in.

“Coam on in mate,” Soap said to Gaz cheerily, his accent slurring thick. “Workin’ on cheerin’ her up right now. Room ‘nough for all of us,”

Soap looked up at you, shit eating grin plastered across his face, as Ghost finally broke your kiss. He pulled down your zipper: hands slowly pushing away the fabric at your waist, peeling your fly open to reveal your underwear. 

You heard Gaz whistle as he walked up to the bed, just the same as Ghost had. Gaz hummed as he approached the three of you, stopping to observe like you were a blushing nude in a piece of art and not a human being. If Soap had been emotional in his approach, and Ghost had been careful, Gaz was hungry. He wasn’t interested in wasting time asking questions. He was here, this was happening, and that was all that mattered. 

“Where you want me?” he asked, eye flicking between Ghost and Soap. 

“Stayin’ right here, sergeant,” Ghost said against your lips, absently commanding the man. It should have concerned you how easily they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“Can’t even steal a peck?” he said cheekily, leaning down so that the brim of his blue hat tickled your temple. 

“One,” Ghost said, releasing you with a growl.

Gaz’s hand gently turned your head toward him. You breathed a sigh as he leaned in to press your sensitive, kiss-bruised lips to his. He moved slowly and sweetly, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to test it, but never breaking away. Each of them kissed so differently and it drove you mad thinking that all of this had been right here just waiting for you. 

Ghost wasn’t one to wait for his turn. Your lips were his. He’d claimed them already, and Gaz, as much as he liked the man, was testing his limits. He pressed his face into the crane of your neck, mask jutting into your jaw awkwardly, sinking his teeth in to what skin he could reach. The first bite shocked you enough to make you pull away from Gaz with a gasp, leaving Gaz grinning at the man behind you. 

“Nice play,” he said nicely, smiling with his teeth barred. 

He knew it was better to play fair in a situation like this and let his superiors take the lead. They were his brothers, not his enemies, after all. Besides, you had so much more to offer him. Like those beautiful tits, nipples still shiny with Soap’s spit, just begging for attention. He took off his hat, tossing it around the metal post of your headboard, and set to work.

“Cheap though,” Soap mumbled against the skin of your hip. 

Ghost grunted in response, continuing his line of bites down your neck as you whined in his grasp. 

Gaz didn’t respond, or even seem to mind. He’s humming around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the very tip. A trail of sparks shoot up your spine. His fingers gently petted across your breast, squeezing with just a bit of pressure as he reached your nipple. 

You gritted your teeth together, suppressing a moan. With all three of them working together, it was just too much. If you didn’t stop yourself now, there was no telling what wanton, stupid things you would say.   

“Harder, Gaz,” Ghost commanded. His voice rough, breath hot and ragged down your neck. 

Gaz obeyed, teeth testing the nipple in his mouth, pinching the one in his hand. You bowed back as much as you could in Ghost’s grip, a whiny moan ripping from your throat. 

“Beautiful,” Soap whispered, nuzzling at your pussy through your pants. He cleared his throat. “LT. Need yer help ‘ere,” 

You feel Ghost lean over your shoulder, looking past your exposed body down to Soap between your trembling legs. Soap’s bright eyes avoid your pleasure-drunk gaze, focusing entirely on the massive man behind you. He cracks a wide smile as their eyes lock. 

“What y’ need, Johnny?” Ghost asked, his gloved hands gripping into the flesh of your torso. 

Soap dug his fingers into your cargo pants, his smile on the edge of manic. 

“Lift ‘er up. Get these off,” he answered, throat bobbing as he spoke with denial, anticipation, lust. 

“On three,” Ghost responded, wrapping both his strong arms around your chest, locking you into place. 

Gaz had only a moment to pull off you before the count began. When Ghost reached “one”, he lifted you off the bed easily, allowing Soap enough room to pull your pants down to your knees. 

Ghost set you down, this time onto his lap. You blushed and he groaned, realizing he was now holding you down with both hands against his brutally hard cock. 

Soap was already stripping your pants off fully, throwing them with a flutter behind his back. His eyes were blown wide, blue irises fully consumed by his pupils. His chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath, as he held your legs wide enough to push his way into the drenched gusset of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he said, running his thumb up the slick-soaked fabric. 

You turned your head out of the crook of Ghost’s shoulder, struggling in vain to catch your breath. Gaz was right there, unfortunately. He caught your lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to quiet your pitiful mewling as Ghost rolled his cock into the plush of your ass. Gaz’s  hands cupped your breasts again, grazing alternately at your nipples just enough to send that delicious tickle down your spine. 

Soap huffed a hot breath against your clothed cunt, making you shudder against the hands containing you. 

“Ca’ wait t’ taste that pussy,” Soap moaned, his nose grazing your clit through your panties as he pushed his face fully against your leaking core. 

Ghost groaned at Soap’s words, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cried into Gaz’s mouth, making him break away. Ghost pulled away as well and looked over at Gaz. 

“Gaz,” Ghost asked, suddenly devoid of  emotion. 

“Hmm?” Gaz answered, looking away from you as he pet at your face, wiping away your tears. 

“When you left, where was Price?”

Gaz thought for a moment, pausing to look down at you with eyebrows knit together. 

“Cap? Not sure. After I left to find-”

“You just left him?” Ghost interrupted him tersely, leaning over into Gaz’s face, jostling you around like a doll. Soap grumbled as your pussy was wrenched away from him. Ghost wrapped a hand in Gaz’s collar to pull him close. 

“Yeah?” Gaz answered, nerves trembling his voice. “Why-”

“Because he knew I’d follow you here. Just like the rest of you did,” your Captain’s dull, almost disappointed voice answered from the dark just outside your door. 

A spike of fear shot down your spine. Oh, you were all so screwed. 

a/n: yes, part three of Girl's Night Out is still coming! consider this an extra anniversary treat dedicated to everyone who sent kind messages while I clawed my way out of this bout of depression. (✿◠‿◠) ❤️ part two to this thing . . . idk when y'all want it??

[milkloafy]

THE IUDEX CANNOT FORGET — NEUVILLETTE

⋆｡˚ ❀ prompt: "don't ask me to forget last night. in my heart laid a map of your body" by delilahfairchild ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: implied smut, fluff but bittersweet ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.5k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: loosely based on the dialogue prompt above! i saw it and immediately thought of neuvi c: writing this made me so soft for him ahh pls enjoy!! xo

Amidst the stupor of the night was when poor decisions appeared to be good.

Add in the mixture of wine from a celebratory evening out and you felt just about invincible. The mere thought of any consequence seemed so far away from you.

But the moment you woke up with a throbbing headache and lack of clothes, you knew the consequences would catch up to you.

You stilled as you noticed the plush, royal blue sheets you laid in. It was all too familiar, yet experiencing it in such a way was foreign to you. Turning your head cautiously, you spotted a sleeping Neuvillette who looked completely unbothered in blissful unconsciousness.

Gravely, you examined his peaceful figure, savoring the last few moments of normalcy before your relationship was likely to change forever.

As you took one last look at the slow rise and fall of his bare chest, you slipped out of the bed to gather your clothes—all strewn around across the room. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the memory of exactly how your clothes came to be on the floor in such a way. For such a gentle soul, Neuvillette sure surprised you in that department.

Once you located your undergarments and began to clothe yourself, you felt guilt flood through your body. Guilt from the events of last night, guilt at the act of you leaving in the morning without a word… 

“Heading out so soon?” 

You jumped, your dress falling from your hands and back onto the carpeted floor. 

“Neuvillette! You’re awake.” 

He sat up slightly in his bed, exposing the toned muscles of his torso out for anyone to see. Tilting his head to the side, he said, “Your tone informs me you are not pleased with the situation. Shall I pretend to continue being asleep?”

Shaking your head, you hastily pulled your dress up from your feet, slipping your arms through the bellowing sleeves. “No, of course not.” You shut your eyes. “I just didn’t expect to have to talk about this so suddenly.” 

Neuvillette didn’t say a word, instead staring expectantly at you. 

“About last night—“ you began hastily, fingers tugging at the loose fabric of your dress. “You are one of my dearest friends, and I, yours. And we were both intoxicated. And—”

“If you are about to ask me to forget last night, please, stop.” 

His voice was filled with such sorrow that you forced yourself to look up at him. With a morose, yet understanding look in his eyes, you were hit with the realization that this likely wasn’t the first time he went through something like this. Despite his preference towards solitude, you knew his heart was kind enough to let people in, no matter how hard he tried not to let it be the case. Throughout his many, many years of life, he must have experienced a multitude of love and loss. 

And that only reminded you just why last night had to be a mistake. 

As if reading the expression on your face, Neuvillette spoke once more. “You may wish to erase the memory we made together, but painted in my heart is a map of your body. I am uncertain if I would be able to comply with your wishes.” 

You held your breath, grip tightening around your dress as your stomach churned. Feeling the wrinkles beneath your palms, you sighed. You would certainly need to get your outfit dry cleaned after this. 

“Neuvillette, I don’t want to forget last night, either,” you said, breathless. How could you forget, even if you wanted? The feeling of Neuvillette’s hot breath against your neck, the image of his sculpted figure that could somehow be so gentle when it touched you. Those moments were etched into your memory, too. “But what if it is for the best?”

“How could it possibly be so?” 

“You’re immortal, for one. I am not.” 

Truly, that was the bulk of it. You could have stopped there. What reason could be more potent than this? You were a human, with a lifespan limited by health, illness, aging. He was the Sovereign Dragon on Fontaine. If you friendship turned into something more, then the attachment would only grow. And when the time came for you to part with Teyvat, a storm was certain to come to the land. 

“I am not immortal,” he corrected. “I have reincarnated.” 

You looked at him helplessly. “And I have not. I will not. We’re good as friends—amazing even. If we stay this way, it’ll be easier on the both of us.” 

Neuvillette rose from his position in bed, slipping on a silken robe before walking over to you. Slowly, he approached, placing his hand on your cheek and you sucked in a sharp breath at the cold touch. 

“The easiest way does not always mean the best,” he said, softly stroking the high point of your cheekbone. “I would rather spend a life being able to hold you, kiss you, love you, until the last moments, rather than living in regret.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to melt into his touch. “But then when those last moments come, and it is inevitable that they will… What then? I do not want you to suffer—to feel anymore loss and sadness.” 

“I have grown to accept that it is part of life, no matter how long or short we live for. Loss is a constant.” 

You let out a breathless laughter, feeling almost hopeless. “Is that supposed to make it any better?” 

Neuvillette gazed fondly down at you, hand falling from your face to trace its way down your arm. You found your own hand finding its place in his, and you hoped he would never let go. 

“It does not make it better,” he said solemnly. “Loss is still painful, no matter how many times it occurs. Still, we cannot let that stop us from living our lives.”

He drew closer to you, so close you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his core. You held your breath and peered up at him. 

“I, for one, believe experiencing moments such as last night with you, and those like it to come, is worth the crushing pain of it all coming to an end,” he declared. At the look on your face, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Still, I cannot decide for you.” He took a step back. “If you wish to not go further in our relationship, I will respect that. I can never forget how you looked, how you felt, as you laid underneath me. But for your sake, I will not speak of it again if that is the what you so desire—”

“No!” you cried out, tearing your hand from his to hold his face gently between your palms. “That is not what I desire. I wish to have more moments such as last night with you. I wish to grow old and experience life with you. Still, I just wish I could always be there for you.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, Neuvillette sighed solemnly. “I know, mon coeur. There are days I wish the same, but until that is a possibility, please know that you will always have my heart.” 

You nodded, pressing your lips against his. You felt relief overcome his body as he returned your kiss. He enveloped you in a warm embrace, hands cupped around your waist as he nipped at your lower lip. Your hands that rested on his face made their way to the back of his neck, only deepening your connection. 

As you pulled away for air, you managed a quiet, “Thank you.” 

“What for?” he asked, brushing aside the hair that fell across your face. 

“For one, not getting mad at me for trying to sneak out and pretend nothing happened,” you said sheepishly, looking down in shame. “I am truly sorry. I really thought it would be the best thing for both of us… But it’s not.” 

Neuvillette gently pinched your cheek, hints of humor in his eyes. “Indeed, it is not. And while I may not be mad, a punishment has yet to be doled out.”

“The Chief Justice’s work is never done,” you said with a nervous laugh, wondering just what type of punishment he could be speaking of. 

“We deal with that later tonight,” he said firmly, giving you a gentle squeeze. “For now, we celebrate the evolution of our relationship.”

“Here’s to the rest of my life that I now have the honor of spending with you.” 

“The honor is all mine, mon coeur.” Neuvillette held your hand in his, placing another chaste kiss on lips. “Thank you for choosing me in this lifetime.” 

[redwinewhiteroses]

What are your future spouse's qualities? 🧡💛🧡👰🤵👼

Pick an image

‼️For entertainment purposes only‼️

Use your intuition. Choose the image you are drawn to the most.

What reading should I do next? Lmk in the comments. Thanks for joining me for this reading.

Purple butterfly

First of all I'm seeing your fs is a social butterfly. Very very outgoing, radiant and lively. They might feel really content with themselves so they reflect this warm peaceful celebratory joy into the world. They might nurture and foster connections with people from a very genuine place in their hearts often times celebrating people and their loved ones.

Your fs might be a very strong and resilient person. They will put up a good fight to defend their loved ones. They might also be protective of you and your children and will defend you like a warrior. Your fs will face challenges head on and will be really courageous. They will always stand up for what they believe in.

Your fs might be highly skilled and a master manifestor. They get what they want and they possess the power to create what they want. They might be charismatic and will really stand out in a crowd. They might be skilled at multiple different things, could be a jack of all trades and will most definitely be good at all those things.

They are very well put together and will have a commanding presence. They must be super confident about themselves. They might value  and respect people and will demand to be treated the same way. Your fs could be a CEO or an entrepreneur.

Your fs might be very intellectual. They have a strong sense of self and not easily swayed by things. They might not be emotional as much, definitely more inclined to logical thinking. They might really value honest and clear communication. Honesty could be a priority to them. They might have a zest for life. A hardworker, creative and analytical could be some of their most prominent qualities. Your fs could be well accomplished in life and could be quite independent on their own. Could uphold positions of power and definitely commands a lot of respect from others.

Random messages : Enchanting, Ask and you will have it, I'm sorry, Wit and humor/Gemini/Sagittarius, Forest retreat, Soul's desire, Mystic, It's always you, Hope for something more, Going with the flow, Try again, Forgive and forget

Vibes they give off : Harvey Specter from Suits

Blue butterfly

Your fs could be a bit of a loner. They would fight for what they want even if they are the last one standing. Might have a win at all costs attitude. On the downside they will be quite cold and people could resent them sometimes. They might be a bit aggressive and get involved in conflicts easily. They could possess a sharp intellect and see things through. They might make enemies or get on the bad side of people. They could be a bit manipulative and will try to have the last word on anything and everything. Could be a fighter and a tough cookie. They could go by the motto 'Never back down, Never give up' .

Your fs is very introspective and will be on a constant journey of self discovery. They might seek a deeper meaning in life. They might be disatisfied with the circumstances of their life and will try to reinvent themselves and will desire to find more authentic experiences in life. They might not be driven by material rewards but rather value experiences and constant evolution beyond the material realm.

Your fs could be a bit restless and impatient. They might be facing delays and obstacles in creating their desired reality. They could face a few setbacks in life which will create a sense of disappointment in themselves.

Your fs might struggle to give and receive care and affection to some degree. They have this inner turmoil which restricts their nurturing side. They might be dealing with mental health struggles or stress might be a major theme in their life. They might be a bit possessive and act from a place of low self esteem. They could struggle with issues related to self worth and lack of purpose.

This might just be a major theme in their life during a significant time frame in their life. Nothing is set in stone. This is the current energies of your fs. This is not a final verdict. Remember life goes on constantly, redefining things and situations day by day. So have hope that things will get better eventually.

Random messages : Light hair, Yes, Sail the seas, I want to control/Mars/Aries/Charge, Love, Damsel in distress, Wait for me, Ill will, Love is light

Vibes they give off : Professor Snape from HP

Green butterfly

Your fs might have a difficulty of letting go of things that no longer serve them. They could hold on to the past and resist change. They might display feelings of nostalgia, regret and fear the uncertain. They could hold onto things for their emotional significance and memories. They could reminisce about their childhood often and may have an emotional attachment to their past due to some reason. Your fs can be someone who thinks they were born in the wrong generation. They might love vintage stuff and lifestyles from a different era. They could feel a bit out of place in the dynamics of the present world. They might have an interest in history, archaeology or philosophy. For some of you, your fs could be a librarian, anthropologist or a historian. They could be a bit restless and indecisive. They could be prone to overthinking and running in circles.

They could possess strong traditional values and beliefs. They could be a mentor, a teacher, professor, a guide or a coach. They can have some outdated beliefs as well. They could hold onto long-held traditions and practices to the point they will resist evolving. They could be a bit impractical and stubborn. They could be a conservative person, maybe religious, wise and emotionally stable. They might be well respected among people and seen as a dependable figure. They could even be a religious leader. They can be significantly older than you or very mature beyond their age. They have a love for traditions. They consider courting, marriage and commitment very seriously. They value stability, practicality and has a strong moral compass and will hold people accountable. They value morals, good intentions and values. They might have an ethnic background or might have some special cultural practices. They could be from generational wealth, true old money. They really do have some unique structure in their life kinda like old, refined, antique and of deep value. They might drive a vintage car. For some your fs could even be living in a mansion or has an estate.

Your fs might be recovering from a heartbreak, a past sorrow or pain. Maybe they lost someone who was quite influential in his life like a grandparent, a teacher or a parent figure. Maybe that's the reason of your fs looking back into the past. They have newfound strength and overcoming emotional pain. Your fs's emotional journey is marked by a gradual release of sorrow and an embrace of healing and growth. They could be a counselor, therapist or even a writer. People might be inspired by your fs's journey of overcoming pain and past hurts. Your fs could be inspiring people to be stronger by sharing their story or personal experiences. They may be guiding others to overcome emotional conflicts.

Your fs might have a zest for life. They can be incredibly passionate about life. They can be lively and active. They're passionate, optimistic and might take risks and have a thrill for life. They possess leadership qualities and a strong desire for actions. They are assertive and takes initiative. They might lead your relationship and I'm seeing wise leadership. They'll believe in traditional gender roles and will provide emotional security and material stability in the relationship. Your fs respects you and loves you in a gentle but passionate way.

Random messages : Cute romance, Sweet kiss, No way, Running with the wolves, Sour cream, Say something, You are on the right path, Aphrodite, I'm wondering why, Harmonious, Diabolical, Fruitfulness

Vibes they give off :

Thomas Shelby from Peaky Blinders

Edward Cullen from Twilight

Red butterfly

Your fs might be a really strong individual. Definitely good looking and charismatic. Will most likely have a commanding presence. We got two kings here and the magician. Your fs will defend their loved ones like a warrior. They will face challenges head on and won't fear fighting for what they truly believe in.

Your fs might be a bit closed off at first. They can have their guard up. They might also not see their truest potential. I think they underestimate themselves constantly and might feel trapped by their own mental chains. They tend to feed their own mental limitations. But I think they are capable of more, they just don't see that for themselves.

Your fs might motivate people around them. They will encourage you with words of affirmation all the time. They definitely have a strong sense of self assurance and will be in control. They can be tall and charismatic and extremely good looking. Might have a great sex appeal. They are very driven (might have high libido) courageous and passionate. They have a warm hearted nature. For some of you guys, your fs can be a CEO, entrepreneur, self-accomplished businessman, creative director or an authoritative figure.

Your fs might be fiercely competitive. They like to test their own limits. Might enjoy dangerous hobbies and martial arts. They might enjoy physical fights or activities that require strength and endurance. They might be really good in bed if you know what I mean. They can go for a few rounds at a time without getting tired. Extremely passionate and strong. They can be quite passionate in arguments as well so it's better to solve problems without delay. They might like competing with others and they thrive in competitive environments. Your fs will be in the spotlight and they stand out in any crowd. They could a sportsperson for some you guys.

Your fs is highly skilled in many things. They are really creative. Might be good with their hands. They will be a very well put together person. Will have a good sense of style and a knack for aesthetics.

Your fs can be mature and have a zest for life. They are passionate about living life you know. They might enjoy hiking, vacations and experiencing new things. Your fs is really really wealthy and abundant. They might be successful or even famous. They have a lot of achievements under their belt. They are incredibly protective of their loved ones and have a strong sense of responsibility towards them. They are secure in themselves and people can easily rely on them. They might build a lasting legacy with you. They could be working in finance or real estate.

You guys could have a lavish wedding and you also might live in a beautiful home. Your marriage will be stable and quite passionate.

Random messages : Christmas time, Haphazard, Miraculous, Count to three, Eat up, Love and care, Why do you avoid me?, What do you want?, It's easier when you sleep

Vibes they give off : Christian Grey from Fifty Shades

Nick from My fault

Thanks for joining me!

[sunny44]

Pole position and broken wrist

Pairing: Max Verstappen x GF!reader

Warnings: broken wrist, medical center, medications etc…

Summary: Where Y/n broke her wrist on qualifying day.

It was one of those days when everything seemed to be in the right place. I woke up with Y/n by my side, her hair spread out on the pillow and a serene smile on her face. The sun was shining outside, and I felt a positive energy in the air. Today was qualifying day, and confidence was high. The car was fast, and the team's work had been impeccable throughout the weekend.

Y/n and I had a special ritual on race Saturdays. After breakfast in the motorhome, we would go to the paddock together. She was known for her vibrant personality and, of course, for her ability to get into unusual situations. I still remember when she spilled a tray of drinks on the team boss during her first visit to the paddock. But those moments, no matter how chaotic, only made me love her more.

We arrived at the paddock, and Y/n quickly started interacting with the mechanics and engineers, drawing smiles and laughter. It was impossible not to be infected by her light and carefree spirit. While she mingled, I focused on the qualifying session ahead. I knew she would be there supporting me, as always.

The qualifying session started, and the car was perfect. I managed to top the timesheet right in Q1, and that pace continued until the end. When I crossed the finish line in Q3, with pole position secured, my heart raced with excitement. I knew Y/n would be waiting for me in the garage, ready to congratulate me with that smile that made all the problems in the world seem insignificant.

But when I returned to the garage, something was off. I didn't see Y/n anywhere. Usually, she would be jumping with joy, ready to give me a celebratory kiss. Instead, I was greeted by worried looks from the team members. Before I could ask what was going on, one of the mechanics, Dave, approached me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Max, there’s been an accident... with Y/n," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

My heart froze. "What happened?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"She was walking through the paddock, and you know how she is... Always bumping into things. Apparently, she tripped and fell. She tried to grab onto a metal structure but ended up slipping and falling hard. She broke her wrist."

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The image of Y/n, hurt, flooded my mind, and a sense of panic started to grow inside me. "Where is she now?" I asked, already moving towards the garage exit.

"They took her to the medical center here at the circuit. She was in a lot of pain, but they said she's going to be okay. They just need to immobilize her wrist and maybe take her for more detailed exams."

Without wasting any more time, I ran towards the medical center. Everything around me seemed like a blur. The people, the sounds, even the noise of the engines... It all disappeared. The only thing that mattered was getting to Y/n.

When I entered the clinic, I found her sitting on a bed, with an expression of pain mixed with frustration. Her arm was already in a temporary splint, and the doctor was beside her, explaining what they would need to do next.

"Max!" Y/n exclaimed when she saw me, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and relief.

"Y/n, what happened?" I asked, approaching her, feeling a wave of relief seeing her conscious and talking, even though she was visibly uncomfortable.

She gave an embarrassed smile, something she always did when she was in trouble. "I’m a complete klutz, Max... I tripped over one of those damn toolboxes and, trying to balance myself, ended up falling. And, well... you know the rest."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and sitting next to her.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"Yes, it hurts like hell."

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me?" I asked, taking her free hand and intertwining our fingers.

"I'm so sorry... It wasn’t my intention to ruin your pole day," she replied, with a pained little laugh.

"The only thing that matters to me right now is that you're okay," I said, kissing her forehead gently. "And, look, we’re still going to celebrate this pole. We’ll just do it at your pace, okay?"

She smiled again, this time more confidently, and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

The doctors entered and started discussing the next steps, mentioning the need to take her to a hospital outside the circuit for a more detailed X-ray and possibly to cast her wrist. The idea of her having to spend the rest of the race weekend with a cast worried me, but the relief of knowing it was "just" a broken wrist calmed me down.

After a few hours, we left the hospital with her wrist properly casted. I insisted we return to the motorhome and spend the rest of the day there, away from any potential dangers in the paddock. She hesitated a bit but eventually agreed.

We settled on the sofa in the motorhome, with Y/n lying next to me, her arm carefully propped up on a pillow. The TV was on, showing a replay of the qualifying session, but I hardly paid attention. My focus was on her, making sure she was comfortable and cared for.

"Max, you don’t have to stay here with me the whole time," she said softly, looking at me with a shy smile. "You should enjoy the rest of the day with the team, celebrate the pole."

"I'm exactly where I need to be," I replied, running my fingers through her hair. "Besides, who’s going to take care of you if I'm not around? What if you trip over the carpet now?"

She laughed, though she winced in pain right after. "I really am fucking clumsy, huh?"

"You are, but you’re my clumsy, and I love you for it," I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

...

The next day, I woke up to the soft sound of Y/n's breathing beside me. Her arm, now casted and propped up on pillows, was a constant reminder of how clumsy she could be. But seeing her there, sleeping peacefully, I knew that even with a broken wrist, she would still make her day and mine unforgettable.

When Y/n finally woke up, the lazy smile she gave me warmed me inside.

"Good morning, champ." she murmured, trying to stretch without moving her arm too much.

"Good morning, clumsy." I replied, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Ready for another day of adventures?"

"More than ready," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"It’s starting to hurt more now, I think the painkillers are wearing off."

"Well, you stay there while I get dressed and grab your meds." I said, getting up.

"I can get them." She tried to get up but I stopped her.

"No, no. You stay there, safe and sound, I’ll get the meds." She agreed and lay down.

After I went to the bathroom and got dressed, I got her meds and handed them to her. She got up afterward, went to the bathroom, and I helped her get dressed since moving her arm was straining her wrist and hurting.

"Ready?" I asked, putting a Red Bull bucket hat on her head and giving her a peck, making her smile.

"More than ready." She said, and we left the motorhome together. "You know, I was thinking… since I’m going to have this cast on for a while, I’ll make it more interesting."

"Interesting how?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Autographs!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most brilliant idea in the world. "I’ll ask some of the guys to sign it for me. It’ll be a nice memory of this whole thing."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You really are full of ideas, aren’t you?"

"You knew who you were getting involved with when you asked me out," she replied, winking at me and holding my hand.

Y/n was visibly excited, and even with her arm in a cast, she radiated a joy that was contagious.

Lando was her first target. As soon as she saw him, she ran over to him, carefully balancing the cast on her arm.

"Lando! You have to be the first to sign!" Lando, always the jokester, gave a mischievous smile and took the Sharpie Y/n was holding with her free hand.

"So, do you want me to write 'Caution: very clumsy' or something like that?" He asked, as he signed the cast, and Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back her laughter.

"Just sign it, Norris. And make it look nice."

"Alright, bossy." He handed the pen back to her, and after chatting a bit and wishing her well, we went after the next victim.

Charles was talking to some members of his team, but Y/n wasn’t intimidated.

"Charles! I need your autograph, please." she said, waving the cast in his direction, and he smiled warmly, taking the pen.

"I saw pictures of you online with a cast but didn’t know what had happened. Are you okay?"

"I’m better, yeah. I tripped over a toolbox... Long story," she replied, laughing at herself.

"Well, I hope you get better soon," he said, carefully signing the cast with his name and adding a small heart next to it. "And try to stay away from toolboxes for a while."

Carlos was next, and Y/n knew he wouldn’t miss the chance to tease her. When she approached him, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look.

"Max, you really have to keep an eye on her," Carlos said, laughing. "She’s a danger to herself."

"Tell me about it," I replied, smiling as Carlos signed the cast.

"Y/n, are you collecting accidents now?"

"Let's just say I'm adding a little drama to the weekend," she replied, extending her arm.

"There you go," he said after adding 55 to the end of his signature. "I hope you get better soon."

"Thank you Chili." He gave her a side hug and started walking towards the Ferrari garage.

"Try not to break anything else," he yelled and went inside.

Alex was walking past us when Y/n spotted him. "Alex! Please sign here," she said, and he promptly complied.

He made a neat signature, adding a small trophy to the side. "I hope this brings you luck to recover quickly," he said.

"Thank you, and bring Lily to the next race." He nodded and left.

Oscar was the last one before we returned to the Red Bull garage. He was focused, but when he saw Y/n approaching with that smile that said “you have no choice”, he smiled too.

“Oscar, you’re next on the list,” she said, shaking her cast.

“Honored to be a part of this collection,” he joked as he signed it, drawing a little kangaroo next to his name.

Finally, we made it back to the Red Bull garage, where Y/n handed me the pen.

“Now it’s your turn.” She said smiling.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” I said, taking the pen and thinking about what to write.

I decided on something simple but meaningful. I signed my name, and next to it I wrote, “I love you, my clumsy.”

She looked at the cast and then back at me, her eyes shining with emotion.

“It’s perfect, it’s definitely my favorite signature,” she said, smiling.

The day went on, and soon it was time for the race. Y/n was by my side until the last second before I got in the car. Even with her injured arm, she was there, smiling, supporting me, and reminding me of what really matters. mattered.

When I finally got into the car and got ready for the race, I knew that no matter what happened on the track, I had something very special waiting for me at the end of it all. The race was important, sure, but Y/n… she was the reason I gave my best, on and off the track.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Before the accident X after the accident”

Ps: I’m okay guys, just a broken wrist

[ch4mpagnedrought]

friendly game

[full series]

mdni ! art, tashi, patrick

summary: pinning two of the greatest tennis players of our future will not work with you and tashi, in fact, you’ve learnt to share your prizes.

deep breaths. you take deep breaths when taking your racket out of its bag, all five fingers wrapping around the grip tightly, that is so intensely watched by two pairs of curious eyes from above in the stands, inaudibly gawking at the way your black tennis dress, sporting a small nike logo above your left breast, flourishes from around your thighs to expose the surfaces of your skin that don’t see the sun very often.

maybe the single most important game at the 2006 US open, between two upcoming tennis prodigies that also happen to be best friends. an oxymoron on the court really, tashi’s in white, you in black, her in adidas, you in nike, her hair in a tight braid, yours slicked into a low bun. eyes are torn completely apart as the both of you travel across the court, rebutting every single one of each others moves like a choreographed dance, the jaws of your audience slacked open. everybody remains paralysed, leaving the squeaks of your shoes and the heavy grunts of your labour to echo across the stands—until hands grip onto neighbouring knees and the final shot is swung.

“yes!” you shriek, throwing your racket to the ground in ecstasy, letting it bounce back behind you and the strings to shrivel from the force. from across the court, tashi heaves with squinted eyes, watching your celebration with parted lips and stepping closer to the net where you meet her—your arms wrapping around each others glistening shoulders and chests pressing firmly against one another, “good game” she tilts her head to whisper her appraisals and you hum a sweet note, flashing her a smile while the two men blink down at you. their minds completely empty apart from a state of euphoria, seeing two of the most beautiful women they had ever laid their eyes on embrace after a game that was essentially life or death. already replaying the erotic extensions of your legs at every side step, hips swivelling and slender arms extending to shape an image from within the deepest depths of their minds.

the same way that they stood completely still and fixated onto the images of you at the celebratory party hosted for you and tashi. the blonde haired boy taking sips of his drink between all the thoughts that expel from the image of you, mid underhand serve, and run through his mind. while the other faces an image of tashi, mid overhead, and tries not to make it obvious that his gaze slips into imagining anything other than what is underneath those clothes she endorses.

even when you notice their toying eyes, approaching you sat knee-to-knee with tashi at a table having just spent the last twenty minutes dancing with one another that hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either, “art donaldson and patrick zweig, right?” their eyes are momentary frozen wide before art exhales an exasperated breath, choking up on nothing. “in the flesh” patrick mumbles, fidgeting with the rim of his coke bottle. your eyes dart from one boy to another, left to right, both of their shoulders tensing as they watch tashi’s lips uncurl from the pink straw of her orange drink, guiding the bottle towards your own lips, pressing the straw into your mouth nonchalantly to share a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“that, that game…it was seriously breathtaking” art chokes out to the both of you, looking down admirably at you and noticing the small freckles the sun has peppered on your nose that hadn’t been visible from the top of the stands. tashi thanks him, putting the straw back into her own mouth and projecting a mental image of you and her swapping more than saliva into patrick’s mind.

his feet shuffle on the spot, shaking away the thought, “you dealt with the loss much better than i would’ve.” lightheartedly he jokes, gesturing towards tashi and sending her a small smile, “how do you two stay friends?”

“we’ve been friends since childhood,” tashi takes a glance at you, but you’re already looking back, “there’s no bad blood, we learn from eachother.” the palm of her hand flattens on your thigh momentarily, leaning back further into the couch. patrick and art huff, elbowing one another, “just like us.”

they flatter the two of you, showering you with compliments, all while trying to make it seem as if they hadn’t been discussing what exactly they would say to you for the past couple hours, until you and tashi were standing in front of their hotel room door, silently leaning closer to hear whatever was going on inside. “they don’t have time to come here” a muffled voice speaks from behind the door, and another groans loudly.

you and tashi share a small smirk, holding back laughter when she knocks on the door to hear a sudden ruckus.

“hi” “hey” they sing simultaneously, mouths agape like two little dogs, panting at the sight of a treat, or drooling at the ring of a bell. neither you nor tashi even have the time to greet them, patrick opening the door a little wider and beckoning you inside, coming together on the floor of the questionably coloured carpet with a single can of beer in the middle.

patrick leans back onto his hands. “so, when did you two become friends?” tashi points a finger between the two, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her head in curiosity. “we’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” he answers, and art glances down at his crossed legs with a nervous smile. you nod your head, whispering a small “cute” under your breath and brushing patrick’s wrist with your fingers when taking the beer he offers, making the hairs on his arms stand upright. the beer is warm and bitter, and you pass the can to tashi after leaving a wet imprint of your lips that art would try to discreetly swipe his tongue over only moments later.

“you share girls often?” you ask and patrick’s brows quirk up, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “this is our first time.” art says, pinkish blush spreading across his nose and the apples of his cheeks that implies his mind is drifting somewhere else. “why? are we not your type?” tashi laughs, leaning over towards art and tucking her hair behind her ears, his eyes following her closely, “aren’t you two everybody’s type?”

the boys shift in their positions, patrick lifting his hips up into the air briefly to get a little more comfortable and art pressing his hands into his knees, sharing a glance between them. all of the breath you exhale meshes into a palpable energy, and your gaze switches between art and patrick in a way they’ve already grown to love, their faces twitching with an eager awkwardness, “are you each other’s type?”

art chuckles out, “no…no.” he denies with a head shake, patrick peering over his shoulder at him silently, “no, we’ve never done anything like that.”

your’s and tashi’s eyes meet briefly, lips turning up into a smile.

“well…” patrick begins and art immediately jerks his head towards him, hoping that he wasn’t about to say the one thing he didn’t want to share, “i mean…”

“patrick, no.”

“don’t be shy, you have to tell us now” you tempt, a playful glint in the glance you give art.

patrick clears his throat, “you know, i just, taught art how to jerk off” he explains casually art’s right of passage while he holds his head in shame, painting an image of him being covered in his own ejaculation, over his stomach and legs like he had just “spilled milk” all over himself.

“that was a really adorable story” tashi hums, placing a hand on your shoulder to hoist herself up from the floor, and reaching out to help you up too. two pairs of eyes follow you around intently, admiring the tips of your fingers that swipe over various objects in their hotel room and feeling a little embarrassed about how obvious it is that they cleaned it only around 10 minutes ago. random pairs of boxers making an appearance from underneath the two single beds that they had pushed together, and an alarming amount of cigarette ash on the surface of the drawers.

tashi’s hand finds your wrist and guides you onto their bed where you take a seat patiently, criss-crossed, waiting for one of the boys to catch on and join you, while they are utterly immersed in the idea that the two of you are real and really in their bed.

silently, you usher them towards you with a tilt of the head, both of them jumping to their feet, basically leaping onto the bed so all four of you make a square, knees very slightly brushing against one another. theres a silent anticipation, tension weaving around all of you and luring your bodies closer. you take a quick look at each of their faces, their dilated pupils and irregular breaths, and move your lips closer to art’s, watching him inhale deeply like he wants to take all the air from your lungs for himself. then patrick, that selfishly attempts to lean his face closer before you can pull away.

you look towards tashi, who inches her face closer to yours, lips parted slightly and meeting in the middle for a kiss. in your peripheral vision, it’s hard not the notice the way that art and patrick are restraining themselves from punching a fist into the air out of joy, loud and shallow breaths caressing your cheeks. your mouth opens wider, leaning in deeper to consume every part of tashi’s lips in a hungry craze while her hand reaches into your hair to pull you closer. the two other men that keenly wait had slipped out of mind, still staring with a captivated stillness when you pull away from one another.

all you have to do is lean back onto your hands for art to pounce onto the side of your neck that becomes exposed, while patrick leans in to plant a kiss onto tashi’s jaw. on the surface their lips travel across the curve of your necks, heads fallen back, suctioning until they can taste the flavour of your perfume that lingers on your skin, while your hands exchange messily beneath; art’s touch feathering on your arm and reaching for tashi’s shoulder, and patricks arms intertwining with art’s to extend and touch your’s and tashi’s thighs.

patrick nuzzles his lips into divot the beneath tashi’s ear, journeying across her shoulder and onto your own in one smooth line, nearly head-butting with art when he shuffles to grace tashi with the same tender attention.

your hands scrunch into patrick’s dark hair, body involuntarily aching until you draw him closer to your face by the chin to connect with his lips. he balances himself in front of you, planting his hands at your sides to allow him to move even closer to you all while tashi hums into art’s gently mingling lips.

pulling back from patrick, you move onto art’s swollen mouth that glistens with lip gloss, tasting the remnants of tashi and yourself on them. all four of your faces coming together in the middle, so close that there is a dangerous lack of oxygen.

tongues pressing flat on top of another, swiping over bottom lips to feel every ridge and an accumulation of hot air. you become lightheaded at the different hands that grope over your figure, being pulled in by the back of your neck. there’s a contrast in the way each one of them kisses; tashi’s lips are familiar and firm, patrick’s are similar in their starved manner, and art’s yearn to take every molecule you are made of and ingest it.

tashi catches on immediately to the way that your left hand squeezes hers and pulls back to leave only art and patrick breathlessly grasping onto the others torso, noses pressing against each other at every tilt of the head and tongues slipping astray. the moment is only short, you and tashi glancing at one another, unbothered at whether they have noticed that you’re gone or secretly fulfilling a guilty hankering.

“okay.” tashi says, slapping her palms across her legs and sending a smile at the two boys. bottom lips slicked with one another’s saliva they remain frozen, only inches apart.

“goodnight, we have an early morning tomorrow.” you buzz, patrick and art separating only to let you slide past them on the bed, tashi following close behind and you wrapping your arms around her bicep absentmindedly.

neither one of them are able to make a sound, mouthing a “goodnight” that isn’t audible, admiring the way both of your curly brown hair sways behind you, walking out in the matching shorts they wonder if you ever swap.

they look at one another, then at the imprints in the floral blanket that your bodies left, scrunches where exactly you sat that they are both ready to smush their faces into. all while you and tashi stand outside of their hotel room once again, tuning in to the muffled dialogue about art’s grandmother before scurrying down the hotel hallway—hand in hand.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING LECHEROUS !!! GEORGE R. X FEM!READER X TOTO W.

summary: this was the only time when someone lucked out with toto's wife. after the austrian grand prix, maybe george should consider winning more.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), dubcon, pwp, no beta reading, austrian gp 2024 spoilers (ish), threesome (mfm), m!masturbation, cuckolding(ish), oral sex (f receiving), sub!needy!nameless wife (only referred to as 'mrs. wolff), voyeurism, praise kink

note: i have a little hangover but man did that race eat, i just had to write on it. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

mrs. wolff was the most sought-after woman in the paddock despite the ‘wolff’ name being attached to her soul and public image.

everyone knew who she was, having been the mercedes boss’ wife, but it didn’t deter them from ogling whenever she passed by with grace and entrancing presence. 

toto knew that. he knew all too well about the ogling, the staring, the subtle glances. and because of that, he would often shadow his wife whenever she came by.

there was an unspoken rule applied by toto: don’t talk to mrs. wolff unless you’re standing feet away from her, don’t ever touch her, don’t ever dream of being with her.

it wasn’t even that he didn’t trust his wife around other people, no. instead, he didn’t trust other people around his wife. 

george russell was one of those people. as bad as it sounded, george always found himself unintentionally ogling and staring at mrs. wolff whenever she came by in the brackley factory or in the race tracks. who wouldn’t find her beautiful? she had poise and charm that george couldn’t explain. 

hell, george couldn’t blame toto for falling for her grace. or rather, he couldn’t blame his team principal for falling for whatever the fuck she had on. 

but there was something about the austrian air that night that led george to saunter towards the woman. was it his victorious ending at the race? george wasn’t certain. 

but this was a rare occasion; mrs. wolff never joined the celebratory occasions before, and seeing her here with a nice slit dress and ever ravishing smile drove everyone insane. seeing her here while toto was on the other side of the bar, though…

george could get fired for even trying anything with her, he could admit, but ego was something that every f1 driver had and right now the briton couldn’t refuse the inflation of his. he had to try, especially when she was dressed like she wanted to get it off already.

so that’s what george did: chatted with her and talked with alcohol in their hands. there were a lot of things that george learned to say and not say. 

mrs. wolff had the nicest laugh, george could admit, but her lips looking so kissable was just another can of worms that he couldn’t open. especially when toto was somewhere to take the bait and potentially lead his wife to saunter away from the race winner. 

george couldn’t lose her now, so he opted to chat with her instead. behind his blue eyes was something forbidden. lust.

he could understand why people ogled mrs. wolff now — she was a walking aphrodisiac, like her pheromones were through the roof and george could sense all of it. they were enough for his trousers to tighten a little.

fuck, he couldn’t have that now. not when…

not when toto’s hand snaked around his wife’s waist and squeezed her hip. not when the atmosphere inside the bar turned hotter when toto came by. not when toto’s head dipped down to feed onto his and her desire and show everyone whose wife mrs. wolff was. 

george shifted in his seat, not even looking away from toto’s surprising public display of affection. toto was always professional, but then again he was off-track. 

george did the one thing that people rarely got to do: watch toto’s younger wife become needy for the team principal. it was… hot. fuck it really was hot. but he needed more.

and it seemed like toto sensed it too, his hand running through his wife’s hair before grabbing a handful to tilt her head towards george’s direction. 

george could tell she was a putty in toto’s hands, her eyes glazed in neediness and desire. toto smirked at the tension that he felt amongst the three of them, nipping on her earlobe as he asked her, “do you think you can do it, mein liebe?”

“yes,” she bit her lip, her hooded eyes trailing at george. the brit could see a lot of lust in her eyes, as if she wasn’t just laughing at some shitty joke he made five minutes ago. 

she was an entirely different person, and toto turned her on with a snap of his fingers. seeing her so aroused because of toto made george want her more and the team principal could see it.

toto chuckled softly, nipping her craned neck before telling george, “we’re heading up.”

george could only nod, frozen in his position. what did that even mean?

it seemed as though george’s confusion was all over his face because toto seemed to answer his unspoken question with, “do you want to come along? i know you want to fuck my wife like most people.” 

what?

toto smirked, “c’mon, george. lewis would’ve jumped at the chance if he could.”

george wasn’t any better either. this was something that most people wouldn’t ever expect from toto wolff. the man was possessive and wouldn’t let anyone touch his wife. 

god must have been playing favourites. but george couldn’t care less. he had the austrian grand prix win and now he got the win that most people would’ve wanted: a night spent with her. 

so that was how george found himself stomach flat against the mattress, the woman’s legs spread out while the brit’s tongue lapped at her drenched pussy. her knicker was pulled aside, reverberations in her cunt making her body squirm and her mouth water. 

she sought for her husband’s cock, but toto was busy watching them from the armchair he set by the bed. each time she pleaded for toto, all toto said were ‘patience’ or ‘behave yourself.’ 

george’s being left to pleasure her on his own while toto watched was something that made the brit’s cock twitch in his trousers. 

“god, you taste so fucking good,” george murmured between his tongue lapping. she uttered out a moan, making george grind his hips against the mattress for friction. 

“toto, please,” she mewled quietly, looking at her sitting husband while toto stroked his thick cock. “lemme taste-“

“i want to hear you whine and moan, schatzi,” toto crooned, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “i want george to hear you moan for him.” 

“mmfh-“ she whimpered, her mouth eager to taste her husband. but she couldn’t say much when she felt herself nearing the edge with george’s mouth and fingers. “fuck- george. you- oh fuck george- fuck!” 

“yeah, cum on my fingers, darling,” george tutted softly, lapping on her and sucking on her clit while his fingers curled up against her sensitive spot. “give it to me-“

“fuck- yes! oh, fuck,” her body arched and her hips grinned against george’s face, and the british man could’ve cum right there. 

george’s cock was agonizingly straining inside his trousers, precum leaking when his lips and chin glistened while she rode out her orgasm and coated his mouth and fingers. 

“oh, you sweet little thing,” george cooed at her as he moved up to capture her lips with his. his fingers never left her, only sliding out of her cunt when he unzipped his trousers. 

“taste so good, doesn’t she?” toto smirked and chuckled darkly, his eyes darkening at the sight of his wife being ravished by his driver. 

“abso-fucking-lutely,” george laughed too, finally taking off his trousers and taking the foil packet that toto tossed his way.

“she loves that,” toto hummed, his eyes never leaving his lust-ridden wife as he licked his lips. but he didn’t dare touch her, enjoying the sight of her. “my wife- ever the sweetest thing who loves getting off with my mouth and my fingers… how about you let her cum in your cock this time, hm?” 

“on all fours, doll,” george murmured, helping her into the position as he moved behind. “facing your husband, sweets.” 

she was gone. she was certainly gone when she looked at her husband, watching toto stroke the one thing that she wanted in her mouth. heat was rising in her cheeks, her body warming up to 40 degrees as george hooked her arms behind her and slid his cock in slowly. 

both her and george let out guttural moans, george’s face turning red in enjoyment as his pace turned moderate. 

she looked at toto with half-lidded eyes, biting her lip at the sight of him stroking his cock. it was all too damn good. 

“you look so fucked out, liebling,” toto said lowly. she seemed out of it, only nodding to his words. “you’re so gone, aren’t you? so fucked out?”

“yeah… yes,” she stammered hazily, “so good, toto.”

“yeah?” 

“yes,” she cried out when george angled to hit her spot repeatedly. “fuck- toto, he’s so good-“

“good girl,” george crooned from behind her, “good fucking girl with a tight cunt- god, you’re so fucking good.” 

“fuck her, george,” toto instructed with a smirk, prompting george to smirk too and follow as he was told. “look at that face of hers- she could cum right now and she could cum again and again.”

“oh fuck- yes,” she whined softly, her face scrunching in pleasure as her mouth gaped open. she was overwhelmed with pleasure, unable to keep track of who was talking. “you’re- oh god, george!” 

“you’re gonna be the death of me, schatzi,” toto commented, his stroking hand matching george’s thrusting pace. toto groaned out, “fuck her hard. she loves that, george.”

george wasn’t able to contest toto’s command, not when he was there only once. this was a rare occasion, and if it meant that he had to follow her husband’s words then fuck it. 

george might as well do the things that people were unable to do with mrs. wolff. if people only knew— he was a lucky bastard to even be able to see her like this while she lusted over toto and him. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne @marknolee @xylinasdiary @anotherblackreader

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital drawing of Cecil and Carlos. Cecil is an older mid-sized white man with a graying lilac mullet and mustache, a lot of body hair, tan lines, long purple and teal painted nails, and purple eyeshadow. He is wearing a green cross wrap halter crop top, a teal miniskirt, a purple shoelace as a belt around his waist, furry rainbow legwarmers, and pink bunny slippers. He's holding a black cell phone with a pop socket with the Night Vale logo on it. Carlos is an older mid-sized Latino man with medium dark brown skin, black and gray curly hair with a matching beard, a lot of body hair, and a couple moles by his eye. He is wearing a white labcoat, dull red boxers, white crew socks and brown sandals, a small black stud earring, and large square glasses. The entire image has a magenta filter over it.

Cecil is sitting on a red cushioned stool with his legs crossed over each other and smiling down at his phone. Carlos is standing with one foot raised, hugging Cecil with one arm and holding his free hand over his shoulder with the other. They're both leaning into each other. Cecil says, "Carlos, look! I've been declared the "Ultimate Sexyman"!" And Carlos replies, kissing his cheek, "I could've told you that, my honey-voiced honey~" with "honey-voiced honey" italicized. end ID]

~~~~

good evening cecilsweep nation. i made a celebratory Them <3

[loviingpedri]

can you write a Jobe fic where after he wins a match, he and the reader celebrate with each other? Maybe they watch a movie at home or get dinner?

winner, winner, chicken dinner - jobe bellingham

prompt: request ^

warnings: grammar issues

credits to owners for all images.

time was ticking as it reached the 88th minute. the score was currently 1-1 and the opposing team had strong defense. you were shaking your leg as your nerves were going crazy.

after many passes, jobe finally got hold of the ball. it was the 89th minute and the whistle was going to sound any second.

3, 2, 1

jobe scored at the last second.

it took you awhile to process it with how fast it was. running to the camera, he formed a heart with his hands and blew a kiss. the celebration dedicated to you. you were jumping up and down with your arms waving back and forth. nothing could describe how happy you were.

finally making it down the stadium, you were instantly met with jobe as he hugged you.

“definitely going into my highlight.” kissing him on his cheek, you both were so proud of him.

“goal of the season?”

“not yet, so much more to accomplish.” as you were hugging him, he suddenly pulled back. you were confused since it was random, and he kept the straightest face.

“y/n, do you know what this means?”

“what?” the switch-up of emotions was really weird.

“we finally get to have chinese take-out.”

you almost did a face palm. it has always been a tradition to get chinese take-out after a win. he didn’t skip a victory without at least one egg roll in his hand. he has been waiting for this moment for awhile now.

“of course we do. wouldn’t miss one celebratory dinner with you.”

jobe couldn’t wait. as soon as he got into the car, he called his favorite restaurant to place an order immediately. ordering his favorite goods, dinner was in good hands. changing out his jersey and trying to hide his face, he immediately opened the door. he opened the door for you, but man, he could not wait. the aroma of sweet sauce and fried foods were met with your nose. your stomach was happy.

within seconds, jobe came out with the giant bag of food. you could easily see his smile through his mask based on his eyes. going home, he was fighting an urge just to sneak a little bite of noodles.

let's be real, a way to a man's heart is food.

arriving home, he immediately pushed his sport bag away and changed to comfy clothes. your loose t-shirt with sweatpants and his grey sweats with a fitted shirt. sitting down in front of the tv while you were choosing a movie, he was busy displaying the food to the best of his abilities.

“i’ll never be happier except with the love of my life, and the other love my life."

"not even on our wedding day?"

"yeah, i'll be married to the love of my life, but then the other love of life will be just sitting next to me." he was joking, but he really loves his food more than anything. finding the perfect movie, he was finally able to dig in. eating like a real champion, it was definitely a relaxing night.

finishing the night with cuddles, you were proud to be with your winner.

[anzulvr]

May I request how would Karma react when Asano is interested in Karma's s/o? Like here's the story, Asano and reader have been classmates and really good friends but the reader had to be transfered to E-class cause she beat someone up while trying to protect the other student and things like that, and Asano still being interested in reader even if they started dating Karma. Now how would Karma react when he finds it out??

Karma x Reader where Asano has a one sided crush!

(the first part is more explaining the backstory and then the second half of ur main request!!)

Omg I’m gonna cry I wrote this once and it didn’t save😭😭

TYSM for requesting!! I can’t tell you how fun this was this is like my favorite request I’ve ever gotten

First half ♡ the basis of your friendship with Asano!

Your thoughts on Kunugigaokas academic hierarchy had always aligned with Karmas rather than Asano’s, people were so much more than grades and the popularity came with it.

Asano saw you both in two different lights even if you clashed in opinions with him. You were too kind for your own good and were just seeing the best in people while Karma was, simply put, immature and impulsive in his eyes.

Even if you agreed with Karma on this one you were nothing alike, you couldn’t be.

Whenever you’d hear The Big 5 talk badly of any lower class student you’d tell them to quit it, the rest of the group would call you a buzz kill and reply with something along the lines of “People like them don’t deserve respect”.

(The big 5 is Asano and his main friend group and at the time yours too. They’re more like minions or henchmen to him but ya know)

This was the one type of occasion Asano would tell them to shut it.

“[Name] is right, don’t be so immature Seo, even if Eclass does deserve it.”

“Oh cmon you can’t seriously be taking [Name]’s side right no-“

“Didnt i tell you to shut up.”

“… ”

His favoritism towards you was very obvious (not that he was trying to be).

There were rumors going around saying you were dating and whatnot. His fan club was filled to the brim of pissed off girls who would kill to be in your place.

You’d been classmates with Karma before either of you were bumped down to end class but you were nothing more than desk mates, since he’d always ditch class early and never really talked to anyone other than Nagisa at the time.

Asano had advised you more than once to stay away from Karma, he’d tell you what were practically horror stories about Karmas insane fights and slightly (?) Criminal record.

Safe to say it kinda worked, you were intimidated.

“Really? ? He’s the reason Ren had a black eye last week??”

“Yeah, I’ve told you before- Akabane is more than insane.”

When you learned about further accounts from people other than Asano you’d realized Karma had only been standing up for people who’d been bullied. Your perspective on it all shifted. You had gained respect and admiration for Karma. What he was doing was kind in its own way and pretty chivalrous of him.

Even though you and Asano didn’t agree on much your friendship wasn’t something either of you we’re willing to throw away you’d been inseparable for years now, there wasn’t anything that could come between you, or so you thought.

When you got transferred to End Class for defending Hinano from an A class bully, Asano was surprised- he didn’t realize you’d be willing to take a hit to your record for something like this.

(I should add his fan club was over the moon when you got suspended they threw a little celebratory get together.)

Asano still texted you once in a while. It wasn’t the same as hanging out all the time like you used to.

Asano was having a dilemma, he liked hanging out with you but he told himself he couldn’t. He had an image to uphold for everyone in the main campus (and for himself in a way).

His text’s would be things like:

“Do good on the upcoming exams and they’ll want you right back in the main building. Goodluck!”

“Remember to study for next week [name]! unless you’d rather stay in end class.”

♡

— second half:

When Karma first met you he thought you were dating Asano and so did the rest of E class. You had to make it clear Asano and you are nothing more than friends, if you could even call him a friend anymore.

When they find out the reason you got suspended was the same as Karmas they opened up, It was hard having the entire school and faculty against them so it was nice seeing you give up on your main campus status like that in order to help someone else.

This was what first got Karma interested in getting to know you, you weren’t the type to get into fights yet you still did for someone else’s sake. You had maintained a perfect record all throughout school up until now.

Once you start dating, you literally mean the world to him because he feels like you’re the only person he can be completely open with.

WHEN ASANO FINDS OUT YOURE DATING he’s appalled.

Asano: Okay I just heard the craziest rumor you’re dating the Eclass psycho?? Text back asap

[name] : it’s true wdym

Asano: ??? Is he threatening you???

[name]: No??😭

(Omg wtf did I just enter my text fic era(the answer is no))

He genuinely thinks you’re trolling until he accidentally sees you hanging out together somewhere.

when Karma finds out Asano likes you even though you’re very much taken he’s very annoyed but he very quickly turns the annoyance into smugness when realizes he has the upper hand in the situation.

Okay his rival likes you, and HES dating you?? That’s literally the biggest win. It’s Jackpot.

100% rubs it in Asanos face during argument he has with him. He does it casually so Asano doesn’t see it as annoying or stupid but more truthful and hurtful.

“Try not to fail the exams this time around, I know it’s difficult for people as cocky as you to put effort in.”

“Oh don’t worry about my scores Asano, [name]’s helping me study so I’m sure I’ll do great!”

He’s doesn’t usually initiate PDA but the second Asano is in sight Karma will be draped all over you.

He doesn’t really like you talking to Asano because he doesn’t trust Asano to not be a douche but he won’t outright tell you not to because he doesn’t want to sound controlling or needy to you.

If he sees Asano texted you he’ll reply with a selfie of himself

“We’re busy right now☺️.”

Asano is more confused than anything, why would anyone want to go out with that guy out of everyone in the world.

They’ve definitely argued about it

“They only reason [Name] is dating you is out of pity I don’t know why you flaunt it around every chance you get.”

“How would you know? Does she tell you? Oh right you guys barely talk nowadays.”

It won’t escalate to a full on fist fight unless Asano actually tries flirting with you (which I don’t know if he’d be dumb or cocky enough to do 😭)

Like the second something out of line comes out of that dudes mouth Karma is swinging.

Karma makes sure to prove to you he can one up Asano on anything.

Oh Asano got all A’s on his report card? Karma asked Korosensei to make sure the + was added next to his.

Asano can cook really well? Call Karma Gordon Ramsey because he’s now a culinary professional.

Asano made it on the cover of Kunugigaokas student paper?

Karma literally just tutored a bunch of near failing students and helped them achieve perfect scores getting him front cover on next week’s paper. (He stopped right after he secured the spot on the paper he wasn’t about to actually help people like that for FREE 😭.)

♡ ♡ (that one audio just played in my head while writing this “damn… someone took my bitch..😔”)

[lieslab]

Blood, bones, and teeth erode

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After not being able to land a job in the field you want to pursue, it feels like it might be the end of everything and that's when your boyfriend finds you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.5K

Trigger warning: Anxiety, depression, insecurities, implications of starvation, self-harm, and suicide.

A/N: I didn't mean to make two back-to-back Chan posts, but here we are. I had some free time and I finally wrote this request and I just think you should know that I cried a lot, so buckle your seatbelts. After this, there's another Chan request, but before that, I'm going to throw up a Minho one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

When you’re a kid, the impossible seems possible. Full of life and optimism, the world is your oyster. When you announce you’re going to be an astronaut and fly to space, people smile and laugh. It’s one of those childish dreams that most adults understand will fade over time. 

Working through the ranks, performing all the training to become an astronaut, it seems impossible in their heads. Too much work, too much time, and it turns into one of those dreams that fizzles out and turns into stardust. Blown just out of sight and out of mind, you reach in your back pocket for another dream, so you can try again. 

Childhood is full of dreams like this. Race car drivers screeching around the track and leaving everyone in the dust. Professional football players that do a celebratory dance when they score the winning touchdown. Supermodels that travel the world and walk the runway. Marine biologists who live on boats and spend their time exploring and studying the life below water. 

For you, your dreams didn’t really change much. You knew what you wanted to do and you had your sights on making dreams your reality. You planned on doing anything you could to reach your dreams and it never changed. 

When you’re a kid, the adults leave out the grueling part of reality. Nobody wants to be responsible for crushing the innocence that comes with childhood. Not yet grown, kids don’t fully grasp the magnitude of everything they’re speaking about. 

They don’t understand that becoming a good race car driver requires lots of practice races. Football players struggle with sore muscles and a body warped with bruises and aches. Supermodels obtain a certain image and no matter what, they’re supposed to carry that look, even if it means you’re unhappy, anything for the camera. As for marine biologists, a variety of science classes, no matter how boring, must be sat through. 

Dreams are always possible, but it’s up to you to conquer them. They’re always evolving and changing and so are you. Another birthday, another year older, and another year full of experiences and opportunities that help you grow and learn. 

You did everything you could to obtain the knowledge to grow your craft. Whether it was attending classes about it, gaining a degree in the field, or even networking and trying to find your people. You felt like you did everything right, but the answer always seemed to be no. 

Every job application you jumped at, you were always turned away. When you managed to get an interview and truly thought you’d aced it, it always went the opposite of how you expected it to. The industry was hard to break into and you knew that, but you were burning with passion. 

Your resume wasn’t the greatest and you wanted to improve it. By adding a portfolio along with it, you assumed that was the trick, but you had nothing to put there. No matter what you did, you couldn’t catch the eye of the management teams. 

The journey started at the beginning of the year and now it had been months. You couldn’t remember how many interviews you attended. You always expected a call back, but it never happened. If you were lucky, sometimes someone was nice enough to reach out and reject you. Other times, you were left in a silent limbo. A constant wondering and waiting, but it never came to fruition. 

You had a job, yeah, but it wasn’t in the industry you craved. It wasn’t the kind that lit a passion within you and made your heart quicken with excitement. You didn’t get a sense of inner fulfillment. In fact, every day you were faced with an influx of dread. As more and more time passed, it began to feel more and more pointless. 

It was getting harder and harder to hide your irritation and sadness from your boyfriend. Lately, you had been turning away meals. Staying up late at night, you wanted to extend your me time. You did, but getting up in the mornings was like hell on earth now. 

The bags began to become more and more prominent beneath your eyes. Once upon a time the small brown bags shifted into purple. You were emotionally and physically exhausted, but you’d never admit it. 

To make it all worse, lately your thoughts had been spiraling out of control. The things you thought about and the direction your brain crept towards, you were sure Chan would lose his mind. 

He loved you a lot and you appreciated it a ton. At least, you used to appreciate it. Your confidence levels had begun to droop lower and lower. Lately, even dating your boyfriend, seemed to feel pointless. He was a rich k-pop idol and you? Well, you were stuck at your miserable job. You were horrified at who you were morphing into, but you didn’t know how to stop it. 

How do you stop the restless thoughts? The anxiety and worry that suffocated you every night? How did you stop running from your problems and letting them swallow you whole? Would it ever stop? 

“Hey, it’s getting late. Why aren’t you in bed yet? You should be asleep, I thought you said you had work in the morning.” 

You blinked, trying to focus on Chan’s words. Outside in the darkness, crickets chirped and you were left alone in the pitch black. The only thing saving you from blending in with the cloudless night was the faint porch light a few feet away. 

Moths fluttered around it without a care in the world. Their fuzzy bodies lightly plunked against the glass shell covering the bulb. They were the only thing to keep you company this late at night. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

You shrugged at the words and let your gaze venture off into the darkness. Off in the distance, frogs croaked somewhere near a source of water. Nostalgia trickled through your veins, but it was faint. The sound reminded you of childhood, fresh cut grass, and the warmth radiating from the summer sun. Humidity snuffed out any small breeze from the air. 

“I just needed a moment,” you finally uttered. 

“Is this about the-” 

“Please don’t say it. It’s already embarrassing not being called back by anyone. I don’t want you to say it outloud. I know, it's so much worse than expected. I don’t want to hear a pep talk from you right now. I love you so much, but maybe sometimes…” Your voice began to trail off as it softened. You sucked in a deep breath and went on. “Maybe dreams are meant to be just dreams.” 

Someone jammed a needle into his heart. He physically felt his heart strings twist and then his heart popped. Slumped back into your chair, you looked utterly defeated. Your chin curled towards your chest and you were trying so hard to be strong, but he knew you were internally distraught. 

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he whispered. “I want to tell you how much you mean to me and how much they’re all missing out on. However, if you don’t want to hear that right now, I’ll respect it. Whatever happens, please just don’t shut me out again.” 

Again. 

It was a piercing and heart-wrenching reminder that you had been down this road before. Insecurities and judgment clouded your vision. You became your own worst enemy and it spiraled out of control. No words could describe the utter hate and anguish you felt towards yourself. 

You began to inflict damage to yourself. Pulling away from meals just to feel the aching pain of hunger. Forcing yourself to stay up late to finish work because you felt like you deserved it. Every little thing barrel rolled until you got to the point where you wanted to end it all. 

You walked this path before and it was the exact path you were striding towards again. The missing meals, the staying up too late, and the scorching hot showers that burnt your skin. Pushing your vulnerable mentality to its limit as you scrolled through the social media posts of your favorite celebrities and idols; another fleeting reminder that they were doing so much better than you were. 

It was so easy to lay down and rot. Fighting for your dreams was so difficult when they seemed so far away. Even worse, you hated to know that your boyfriend knew just how far you’d take this self-hatred and loathing. You hated that he viewed you like some glass paperweight, but it was true. You were free falling and you could shatter apart at any moment. 

“Bang Chan?” 

He reached out and slipped his hand into yours. Warm fingers curled around your palm and he gently squeezed your hand. “What is it?” 

“It’s getting bad again.” 

“Where you feel like you might-” 

“Yes,” you cut him off. “It’s not even that I might. I feel like if things don’t turn around soon, I might just…” The words cut off in your throat. You hated feeling so vulnerable, but you loved him. 

Maybe you said the words because you wanted to warn him that within the next few days, he might find your corpse. Your thoughts were growing darker and darker and darker. As selfish as some might see it, you just wanted it to stop. You wanted the world to go silent and you wanted inner peace. 

There is no escaping when your biggest critic is your own brain. No matter what you do, your brain screams that it’s wrong. You’re trapped in a cage with your own worst enemy and there’s nothing you can do. It was so bad that the usual things weren’t helping. 

You tried to watch tv, but you kept zoning out and replaying scenes from the past. The embarrassment and stress of previous conversations felt like drowning in a tsunami. You tried to read, but you couldn’t get through a page. Your brain would whisper between the words and soon you’d lose your place. 

You loved music, but even your brain was stealing that away from you. You were attached to the sad and sappy stuff. It was how you felt right now, but listening to those songs made the sadness so much worse. It was like adding water to a grease fire; the flames of sadness rose higher and the smoke was suffocating. 

“I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. No matter what I do, it looms overhead like a shadow. I’m scared, I’m sad, and I’m terrified. I don’t know how to get my brain to shut up.” 

The tears welled up in your eyes more. Your breathing was growing more uneven as you struggled to stop the sobs from falling from your lips. “I’m trying s-so hard, but-” 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, I understand.” Chan gently tugged your arm, a gesture for you to rise to your feet. You allowed him to and when you did, he pulled you into an embrace. 

He pushed your head into his chest and your ear to his heartbeat. Your eyes slipped shut and you clung onto the sound of the steady wallop. One arm wrapped around your back and the other went to the back of your head. 

“Sometimes we all feel a little lost and defeated. That doesn’t make you worth any less to me. No matter what your brain says, I still love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what? For being upset and frustrated when things aren’t going your way? I understand what that’s like, honey. I’ve been there and I still find myself drifting back there sometimes.” His hand began to rub along the length of your spine. 

“Life can be so hard sometimes, but you know what the most important part is?” 

You didn’t respond. The lump in your throat was far too much. You were sure that you’d break down if you spoke right now. Your nostrils flared and your fingers dug into the lower fabric of his shirt. 

“The most important part is that I’m right here. You’re allowed to fall apart and grieve. I’m not going anywhere and I’m here for you. You don’t have to allow yourself to drown in this alone. I know what it’s like to have your brain be against you, so listen to me.” 

“You are one of the most amazing and loving people that I’ve ever met. You fight like hell to make your dreams come true when most people would have given up after a few weeks. There are people out there who are where you are and made something of themselves, even if they had to think outside the box.” 

“Maybe you’re not where you want to be, but I have no issues with believing that you’ll get there. You’re stronger than most with a good head on your shoulders. You’re intelligent, talented, and you have a passion. Don’t let this be the end of your story, let it be the beginning.” 

Caught off guard by his words, your eyes opened. It took you a few moments to let the words settle into your soul. You stared off into the darkness and let the words reply in your head. 

“You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You don’t have to be perfect. The most important thing is that you’re trying to get where you’re going.” 

“Walt Disney was fired from a job and told he lacked imagination. Thomas Edison created the lightbulb after a teacher said he was too stupid to learn anything. Stephen King had a book rejected thirty times before he found someone who would take a chance and publish it.” 

“My point is that you never know what kind of life is waiting for you. If you give up now, you’ll never see what’s on the other side of the rain clouds. Sometimes rainbows are just out of reach.” 

He leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of your head. Your eyes slipped shut again and his arms wrapped around you tighter. The sounds of wildlife continued on in the background. 

“Thank you,” you finally managed to get out. Your voice was hoarse and you still felt like crying. It was nice to be reminded that other people had failures before their dreams came true. 

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I think you need some love, so I’m just gonna-” He shifted and pulled you on top of him as he sat in the chair you were in. Your ear remained pressed against his chest and his arms resumed their rightful places. “I’m going to hold you for a while, okay? I think you really need that.” 

You couldn’t get the words to come out, but you wanted to say you loved him. You did. You loved all of him. You loved all of him and you’d never stop loving him. Giving up meant losing this; the warmth, the words, and the wildlife. As much as you struggled with it, you were still going to fight like hell to make your dreams come true. 

After all, the inner child in you deserved it. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[taylorswiftstyle]

Chiefs vs Ravens | Baltimore, MD | January 28, 2024

Guest In Residence 'Cozy Crew in Cherry Red' - $695.00

As has been Taylor’s M.O. for her game day style, she opted for a sentimental piece by a friend - this one a Chiefs-approved cherry red cozy knit by friends Gigi Hadid's cashmere brand.

It’s been fascinating to observe Taylor’s game day fashion evolve from September to now (full Patreon post coming next week in case you’d like to subscribe @ patreon.com/taylorswiftstyle) and even more so to see her wear something so utterly non-descript during such a key match like the AFC Championship - a Super Bowl decider game.

We’ve seen Taylor be unafraid to literally wear her heart on her sleeve, opting for ’87’ plastered pieces like a custom jacket but I think her choice here to go subtle (especially at an away game, which has also been typical for her game day style playbook) and non-descript but no less personally meaningful to be the right call to strike a more supportive spectator (not starring) role. Especially given the fact that I’m sure the celebratory walk onto the field was planned in the case the Chiefs were to win - making her presence all the more visible and photographed and in particular closer up than any photogs would ever have access to her at previous games.

Get the look: J. Crew, $105.99

Photo by Rob Carr via Getty Images

[kaciidubs]

Number 21 with Jisung please!!!!

21: Singing karaoke together

"You can't pick a song that you guys have made - that's cheating!"

"But what if I sing over parts I don't cover?"

"Still cheating, Ji - pick something else!"

With the power of rainbow LED lights and silly props, you and Jisung were having the time of your lives in the private karaoke booth; starting the night with a few duets of the most popular songs before diving right into a little game you liked to call 'Better Cover'.

The rules were simple, the singer picks a song and they do whatever they must to do the best cover they could - whether it be using the voice and music effects, or doing the best performance with improv dancing and witty ad-libs.

"Okay - I got it!"

With a press to the remote, the speakers began to vibrate with the beats of MINX's Love Shake filling the space.

"Starting strong with a girl group, you're really making this a competition, huh?" You mused as he placed the remote on the couch.

"Just showing off my idol skills, Jagi - watch!"

You could barely contain the excited smile that stretched your lips, nor were you prepared to see Jisung energetically bounce to the center of the room, the flower sprout headband he wore hanging on for dear life as he slid on a pair of oversized pink glasses.

"Baby," he sang into the mic, trying his best to keep the embarrassed laughs at bay, "don't let me stop, you-" pointing toward you, he shot you a wink before jumping into position, "-love me!"

"You know the choreo too?!" Gasping, you watched as he bounced to the beat, one hand on his hip while the other confidently held the mic s if he were on stage in front of thousands.

Jisung seemed to channel his inner MINX member as he sang and danced, his energy infecting you as you sang along to the intended fan chant portions of the song.

"Shake it love-"

"Love!"

"Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it love-"

"Love!"

As he spun to do the next part of the dance, you all but squealed like a pig in mud as he started shaking his hips side to side, fully committed to the choreography - and winning the unofficial competition.

Before you knew it, the final beats of the song were floating through the speaker, and you were left with a very out of breath Jisung, and a karaoke screen totaling up the points he earned through his riveting performance.

Celebratory music played as the screen displayed a perfect 100 - followed by a small image of a crowd cheering as he bowed graciously.

"Thank you! Thank you, no, really, you've been a wonderful crowd! I'll be here all night!" He waved to imaginary audience members, even striking a few ageyo poses as if they were taking his picture.

"Okay, be honest with me," pointing the remote at him, your eyes narrowed in a playful glare, "how long have you had that planned?"

Pursing his lips, Jisung sheepishly looked away before muttering, "...since our last karaoke date."

"You've been waiting to show me up for a whole month?!"

"Hey! I had to after watching you show me up with Icky! I can't even listen to KARD the same without getting war flashbacks!"

"Alright, well two can play at this game - this is real war, Han Jisung!"

[unedited]

[forgotten-realm5]

That's all I needed to hear

(image from sorryseraphim)

Gortash x Dark Urge/f!Reader

Warnings & summary: MDNI, 18+, pre-tadpole, After a successful crown heist you realise you have feelings for Gortash, but not wanting to be just like every other conquest you make him work for it. (i suck at summaries), dominant!durge, magical restraint, masturbation (f), sorcerer durge, unprotected sex, p in v, biting, blood, choking, name calling.

Words: around 2K

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing smut ahhhh! i just wanted to try and contribute to this amazing community of BG3 fans, your artwork and writings have given me life. Gortash has taken up residence in my mind and won't leave so enjoy my brainrot ! Even if just one person enjoys this I will die happy.

The crown heist was a success. A feeling of pride and power courses through your body as you consider your partnership with Lord Enver Gortash and the full extent of what can be achieved when you work together as equals. Equals… a term that has never been used to describe you. As a child of Bhaal, you were constantly reminded by your father of your mortality compared to his omnipotence. Your mind ponders at the Chosen of Bane’s use of the word to describe your newly affirmed partnership, as he sits across you with a triumphant smirk on his face. You realise that he may be the first person to actually see you and your true worth, not just a mere slave to your father’s wishes. Never in your life have you felt a connection like the one between Gortash and yourself, the way you seem to complement each other and how he does not shy away from the darkest parts of your soul but instead welcomes it. You realise you are falling for him and feel frightened for the first time in your life, unsure of what to do, unsure whether he feels it too.

You come back to reality and realise Gortash is watching you expectantly waiting for a response to his question. When you don’t answer his face morphs into one of concern. You push your internal thoughts of love and lust to the back of your mind and focus on the object of your desire.

“Are you feeling alright my dear?”

“Just tired, what were you saying? you answer as your cheeks start to flush at being caught out.

“I was just raising a glass to us and the fine job we did in acquiring the Crown of Karsus. We are now one step closer to seeing our plan complete” Gortash explains while pouring a glass of wine and sliding it towards your side of the table.

You take the goblet of wine and raise it “To us and the future of our partnership”.

Gortash chuckles his eyes darkening slightly as he responds “Yes the future of our partnership indeed”.

You noticed his eyes roam over your body and then settle of your lips. You were concerned with your own feelings tonight but didn’t stop to examine his. Now that you think about it he may be trying to seduce you, as it was his idea to have a private celebratory dinner in his room.

Gortash sets down his goblet and walks around the table to come to a stop in front of you. He reaches down and offers his hand to pull you to your feet. You let your eyes roam his body. He is wearing his usual dark attire, but without his formal jacket you can see the lines of his strong chest and muscular arms. Your eyes settle the longest on the front of his shirt where it is has been opened to reveal chest hair you always longed to brush your hands through. Your eyes then focus on his mouth and his full lips, and you imagine taking them between your teeth. You bite your own lips with longing and reach forward to take his offered hand while you stand from your chair. You finally raise your eyes to his, and notice him watching you intensely. You can read him well after all these years, but tonight you see a slight apprehension to him that is unusual.

“Come stand by the window with me” Gortash guides you to the main window in the room, overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate and the lands beyond. It was a clear night, the moon shining bright illuminating the streets and people below. Gortash takes your hand in his and gestures with his other to the city below.

“Very soon all of this will be ours to rule together” He pauses and locks eyes with you.

“You look very beautiful in the moonlight”.

Gortash waits for you to respond with lust filling his own eyes. You know he is used to getting what he wants, taking on a dominate persona in all things. You knew this encounter was a long time coming as he had been nothing but a flirt since the first time you met. Looking at him in the candlelight, you decide you don’t want to be just another easy conquest, you want to be the one to make him beg.

Stepping closer to him you soften your voice to a sultry tone. 

“And you’re looking just as delicious” while your hand reaches up to caress his exposed chest through his shirt. It’s just as you always imagined, soft and warm. Gortash chuckles and then smirks at you and slowly, seductively he grabs the hand on his chest and brings it up to his mouth to kiss at the pulse point on your wrist, all the while not taking his eyes off you.

Your eyes shine with approval and he takes that as encouragement to lean forward and capture your lips. The kiss is an explosion of past longing coming to a head. You feel his stubble against your skin as you grab his face to deepen the kiss, his hands move to grip your hips. His mouth tastes of red wine and you inhale his lingering scent of incense and soap. Just as you are both about to pull apart to breathe again, you grab his bottom lip between your teeth and bite hard enough it breaks the skin causing Gortash to moan with approval. You lick the blood off his lips and move away from his embrace.

Gortash looks at you, his face flush with arousal.

“Gods you’re perfect, I can’t wait to hear how you moan my name”.

“All in good time, but first I want to hear you beg for me ” you smirk at the surprise on Gortash’s face, he narrows his eyes but answers with a hint of amusement.

"I don’t beg."

“We’ll see about that”. You motion for him to follow you back to the dining room and forcefully push him into a chair. He is watching you with enjoyment, his eyes following your every move. You stand in front of him close enough that your knees are touching and look down at the noticeable bludge in his pants, you smirk to yourself thinking this will be easier than you thought.

“Looks like someone enjoys a bit of pain” you tease him.

“Only if you’re the one delivering it” Gortash counters.

“Is that so?” you draw out. “You don’t have to hide it, I know you’re a kinky fuck”.

Before he has time to respond you grab his throat and crash your mouth to his. He moans loudly and you can feel yourself becoming increasingly wet listening to his responses. Gortash tries to grab at you to pull you on to his lap but you pull away, and take a step backwards, enjoying teasing him. You quickly cast hold person so he can’t move his body. Gortash chuckles at your use of a restraint and has an amused and hungry look on his face while you start to take off your clothes in front of him. Now standing in front of him completely nude his eyes roam the curves of your body, his face in awe of your physique.

“Come here so I can touch you." You note a slight hint of neediness in his voice that only spurs you on.

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me."

You note his slight annoyed expression and laugh. You then start to move your hands slowly down your body taking time to cup your breasts and play with your pointed nipples. His eyes are glued on your hands.

“Let’s see how long the Chosen of Bane can hold out for” you tease.

His mouth drops open slightly as your hand travels to your pelvic region. You lock eyes with Gortash while you slip one finger into your folds and let out a small moan. You bring the finger back out, now glistening with your arousal which causes a small noise that sounds like a whimper to come out of Gortash's mouth. You smile at him, eyes challenging him to break. He tries to shift in his seat against the restrains of the spell, his arousal threatening to burst through his pants.

“You cruel torturous woman, when I get my hands on you” he mutters, with a violent look in his eye. There is however also a slight note of defeat in his voice which makes you realise he is almost at breaking point.

You continue and pump two fingers in and out of yourself, moaning louder than needed to further torture him. You then bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick them clean slowly, exaggerating your tongue movements to demonstrate what he is missing out on. Gortash is captivated by your show, pupils blown wide with hunger. You then walk up to him and a plop yourself on his lap straddling his waist with your nipples at his eye level. You continuing to touch yourself in his lap, every so often brushing up against his achingly hard, still clothed member. Gortash moans loudly at the display looking about ready to explode.

“Alright! alright! you win” you grin at the victory and at the bitter tone in his voice. You stop your show to listen to the rest of his sentence.

Gortash pauses looking away from you

“Well, I’m waiting” you respond sharply.

“Please” you hear in a quiet voice.

“What was that, couldn’t quite hear you” you reply in amusement.

“Please!” Gortash almost shouts with an irritated look in his eyes. His voice then returns to his usual level.

“Please just let me touch you, let me fuck you, you cruel wicked thing” you hear the arousal in his voice, breathy and needy.

“That’s all I needed to hear” you respond as you break your concentration on the spell.

In an instant his arms are around you, picking you up and almost running towards the bed. He throws you on the bed and gets on top of you.

“You little harlot” you hear his light-hearted tone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my show, I know you did." You smirk and grab between his legs to emphasises his arousal still tightly pushing against his breaches.

He gives you a look of hunger and hurries to remove his shirt only just realising he is still fully clothed. His body is how you imagined it, muscular yet soft with dark hair coating his body in just the right places. You can feel your desire burning inside you as you eye the patch of hair that trails down his stomach. You reach forward to undo his pants and push his undergarments off eager to see all of him. His member bounces free of its confines already slick. Your eyes widen at the thickness of it, already anticipating the burn. Gortash notices your line of vision and chuckles with pride as he grabs your chin and pulls you in for another heated kiss. He hungrily kisses every part of your body that he was denied while kneading your breasts with his hands. He moves from your mouth to your neck where he bites and sucks at you, you let out a whimper knowing it will leave a bruise. He then grazes his teeth over your nipple, licking, sucking and then finally biting causing you to cry out at the feeling. You feel his self-satisfied smirk against your skin as he continues his path downwards. His tongue enters your folds without warning causing you to grab a hand full of his hair and cry out his name. You can feel yourself about to come undone quicker than you expected .

“Fuck Enver, I need you inside me now."

“That’s all I needed to hear”, his smartass response mocking your words from before.

You let it slide for now as your need is too great, but you make a mental note to make him pay for it next time.

He lines up with your entrance and buries himself inside you in one smooth motion. You both moan loudly at the feeling of connection. You feel a sharp tinge of pain mixed with intense pleasure as you get used to his width. He starts to pump in and out of you at a quickened pace knowing it won’t take long for either of you to cum. You grab on to his body and rake your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood. Gortash hisses in pain and pleasure and bites at your neck in response. Gortash comes first moaning your name loudly, causing you to follow closely, both your bodies withering in ecstasy as you ride out the climax. Breathing heavily Gortash rolls off you and you both lie together in silence for a few seconds recovering. You move to get up off the bed but he stops you with his arm.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my room?” as though it was obvious.

He pauses, looking unsure of himself.

“I want you to stay, tonight and every night after that. You’re mine now”, his serious expression softens slightly.

“If you want to be?”

As you look into his eyes you are surprised see a vulnerability that you have never seen before. You realised that this night means as much to him as it does to you, and with that thought you agree to stay, content to lie in his arms dreaming of your future together.

[byhees]

the intimacy of hands.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 1000 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames — more

a/n. revamped version ><

hold | heeseung

would get a teeny bit pouty when you wind up getting distracted from a conversation, eyes fixated on another object by the background; “hey, look at me too, babe”, he’d start, and when that served fruitless, he’d raise his hands to gently cup your cheeks, fingers softly brushing against your skin. “as i was saying,” a little pout, “how do you like my hair?”; and you’d just gawk at him, needing a quick second to recollect yourself from the momentary fluster.

intertwine | jongseong

finds every excuse in the book to intertwine hands with you; can’t blame though— he simply adores the warmth and softness of it all; would suggest such out of pocket, and completely random things just to give himself the right opportunities to interlock fingers with you; for instance, when baking, he’d suddenly say, “how about we mix the batter together?”, leaving you in a confused state; without much explanation, he’d wrap his fingers around your free-hand, swinging your intertwined hands in the empty space. “there! and if you get tired, i’ll transfer some energy over to you!” that’s not exactly how it works, but you’ll let it slide.

win | jaeyun

him being your number one supporter; always present for significant moments in your life, like your graduation, or maybe a win in a competition; you could just scan the rows of attendees, and you’d spot his twinkling eyes, as well as his handmade banner spelling out your name in bold, cute stickers of balloons and animals pasted all over the empty space; would also be there for the smaller moments, such as your first successful batch of cookies, or your first time solving those ‘only 0.000001% of people can get this right!’ kind of quizzes; whenever you walk up to him, regardless of whether you’re holding a medal or your phone, he’d lovingly wish you congratulations, snaking a hand and resting it on the small of your back to pull you close, and pepper your face with celebratory kisses.

lay | sunghoon

would go stargazing together with him; laying a gingham picnic-mat in the midst of a grassy field located at a nearby park, and gazing at the pretty skies above; him actually being pretty good at pointing out constellations, often times filling you in on the identity of said patterns. you, on the other hand, simply enjoyed being in his company, making out random images from the stars; “that one looks like a pineapple, no?” he’d giggle softly at your revelation, replying with a soft “not quite, but whatever you say, angel”; would often outstretch his hand, resting it on your own and tracing little constellations on your palm.

squeeze | seonwoo

is always there to help you out, especially during stressful moments; making sure that you’re all prepped and ready for a big presentation; going through your lines with you, and giving little feedbacks afterwards; on the big day, he’d wrap his hand around your clammy ones to offer affirming squeezes. “hey, hey! don’t panic, love… just remember what you recited to me last night, and you’ll be fine. trust me”, cherry on top is that he’d give you a peck before you’d leave.

hug | jungwon

is honestly so, so clingy when it comes to you; you’d be minding your own business, say washing the dishes, when a pair of arms would suddenly wrap around your waist, embracing you in a back-hug; he’d rest his chin on your shoulder, hands resting on the dip of your hip. “you were gone from bed for too, too long… i miss you already”, and here you’d be, trying to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to prevent dish soap from staining them; “it’s okay, babe.. can we just stay like this for another minute?” he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck, fingers lightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

wipe | riki

the type to notice even the most minute of things; say, a tiny, almost minuscule, streak of frosting on the corner of your lips— that he’d notice as well; would lean forward, extending a hand to wipe off the little bit of icing on your face, unintentionally putting a stop to your train of thoughts; “this bakery makes such tasty cakes! we shou—“ and he’d casually lean back in his seat afterwards, propping his elbow on the table, and resting his chin in the dip of his palm. “you were saying, love?”, but you’d be so flustered with all these butterflies soaring around your stomach, that you’d just pause for a moment, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks.

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