#which in itself is a worrying statement

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

Logically there is very little way 52 ends like this but part of my mind that likes happiness and rainbows wants Arthur and John to get portaled back to Evrard's castle with Alia. they're there long enough that we see Alia alive and awake and Evrard realizes someone got the Blackstone. Another part of my mind that likes happiness and rainbows and boxes of chocolates wants Arthur and John to get portaled to Noel's apartment. Just dropped in his living room. Another part of my mind that likes happiness and rainbows and boxes of chocolates but its dark chocolates with a delicious flavor of angst wants it to be the wrong Noel's apartment.

kayne arrives to get the blackstone/Arthur and John/ stop Lillith along the way, we get that confrontation. maybe Kayne says he's putting Arthur somewhere for a bit while he deals with this or something. I don't know. Portal opens. Arthur and John land somewhere. It's quiet, some car noises and maybe music playing on a radio. John sees Noel, Arthur hears him and there's this moment of relief. they're back! Noel's okay! But something seems just a bit off. Perhaps something Noel says first starts to tip them off, maybe its the lack of a scar on his neck, or maybe they don't realize till the Butcher walks out of the kitchen. Pieces click together and the realization hits fully. They're in the wrong universe. Kayne put them back in the wrong universe. There's so many questions and screams and swears that can come from that realization, but one seems most pressing at the moment. What does a god mean time wise when he says "for a bit?"

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though, it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[alexrosa13]

Thank You

Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mc!reader, Caleb and reader are teens (no exact age specified), reader has a first period

Note: I'm on my period and in a need of comfort, thank you people from discord for making me come up with that idea <3

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

Caleb takes care of you when your first period hits you completely unprepared.

"Caleb!" your scream echoed through the whole house, the boy previously gaming shot up from his seat on the couch, running to the bathroom you were in and knocking on the door.

"Pipsqueak? What's wrong? Something happened?" his hurried and worried tone actually calmed you down. He heard your quiet sobs from behind the door.

"Is Gran back yet?" your quiet voice made his worry even more.

"No, she will probably be out until the evening." his answer made you let out a louder sob "Pipsqueak can I come in?" he waited for an answer with his hand on the door handle.

The sobs stopped, he could tell you were hesitating.

"Come in." he almost didn't catch it, but the moment it reached his ears he instantly pulled the handle, covering his eyes with one hand in case you weren't fully clothed.

"What's wrong?" he noticed the toilet seat empty, scanning the room for your presence from underneath his hand, most of his vision still covered.

"You can look." with some hesitation he pulled his hand down, he noticed you sitting fully dressed in the bathtub, your face red and wet from crying. He was at the side of the tub in an instant, kneeling on the other side of it, with his hands grabbing it's edge.

"What happened? Why are you crying?" he was super confused and worried.

You didn't answer for a moment before your head went down staring at your legs. Following your gaze he peaked at your lower body, noticing the red color under you.

His eyes widen, the panic taking an even worse turn.

"What happened? Are you bleeding?" you closed your tights together, hiding the scene under your legs, his eyes went up to your face.

"I think I... Just started my period..." you answered still in a shaky voice. This calmed him down a little, at least you weren't dying, but still he was still panicking.

"Your period? Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool. So... What are we doing with this now?" his hurried concerned voice was a little more high than his normal tone, making you smile for a moment.

"I... Never had one before." your eyes got glassy, new tears forming "And I don't have anything... For it..." it took him a moment to catch the meaning of your statement. You needed products for your period.

"You need..." he exhaled "Okay, alright, yeah. I can... I can go and get them, yeah. I... I'll get them for you." he stood up "I'll be right back, wait." he ran from the bathroom, you didn't even have time to call out to him.

You brought your legs to your torso and waited, tears still lingering in your eyes. In about a minute or two you heard loud footsteps before Caleb showed himself once more in the bathroom door, wearing his jacket.

"I'll run to the store 5 minutes from us, you'll be okay here?" he was nervous, just like you, that much was obvious. You nodded your head to which an awkward smile found itself on his lips. He turned around, about to leave for his 'mission', when you called his name.

"Do you need something else pipsqueak?" you reached your hand towards him, he came closer to you at the gesture, and you pulled him by the material of his jacket, squishing your face into his body, with your hands embracing his waist.

He froze for a moment before his own arms came to hug you tight.

"Thank you." your whisper reached him, his ears burning bright pink by now.

"Don't mention it." you let go of him, wiping away the tears from your cheeks "I'll be right back." and with that he left.

~★~

Walking into the store he thought about where to find the products you need. Roaming between the alleys before reaching the one with bathroom necessities. Scanning the shelf he finally noticed what he was looking for, he thought for a moment which one should he take before grabbing the darker one.

He made his way towards the register, silently praying that the cashier won't be judging him. He stopped before the shelves with snacks, reaching into his pocket he started counting the money he had with him, it was all he had left from this week's pocked money from Gran. Doing quick math in his head he reached out for your favorite snack, girls need snacks on their periods right?

Finally making his way towards the register he noticed that the lady working today was the nice cashier that always chatted with Gran. Before him was another older woman, packing her products. He clutched the stuff in his hand, trying to act natural and unbothered.

The lady was finishing up her packing when the cashier gestured for him to hand her the items in his hands. He did exactly that, noticing her face changing for a moment in slight shock and approval. She didn't comment on the stuff he was buying, well she didn't, but the woman next to him did.

"How nice of you to buy this for your girlfriend, such a gentleman at such a young age." she smiled with approval, he only nodded his head and let out a quiet 'thank you miss' before handing the cashier the money.

"Yes, I wish more men were like this." the woman behind the register chuckled, giving him his change. He hid the products in his pocket before saying polite goodbyes and leaving the story in a hurry. He ran back home as fast as he could, worried about your state.

~★~

You heard the front door opening and closing. Rushed footsteps coming your way, you raised your head that was resting previously on your knees, waiting for your savior.

You saw the bathroom doors moving before Caleb came into your line of vision. He rushed towards you, leaving the pack of pads on the sink counter.

"Do you need me to bring you some clothes?" he was weirdly calm compared to earlier.

"Yes, please." he put his hand on your head, messing with your hair before turning to go and get the things you need. You scoffed but smiled while getting the hair off of your face.

A moment later he came back with the pile of clothes in his hand, leaving it for you next to the pads.

"I'll go and make something to eat, wash up first." he grabbed the door handle, sending you one last look before closing the door after him.

Finally you felt like you were able to breathe, the tension and stress leaving your body together with the bloody clothes that you took off.

Yeah, a quick shower is a must.

You come into the kitchen in fresh clothes, feeling much better. Caleb gave you his shirt to change into, since you always spoke about how his shirts are the most comfy things to wear (while using one as pajamas), and some sweatpants.

His head turned towards you, taking a good look at your silhouette, not bloody anymore.

"Nothing hurts?" he heard how women talk about how painful their periods are, he actually caught himself searching all of the possible ways to help a girl on her period, not like he was planning to use this knowledge on anyone...

"All good so far." you came closer to him, seating yourself on the counter top like you always did when he was cooking.

"Good. You got me panicking there, when I heard you screaming." he chuckled, you send him a playful glare, hitting his shoulder.

You noticed something next to you. Your favorite snack. You were out of it, and you didn't have money left to buy those so...

"Caleb..." you nudged him with your finger, once he looked your way you pointed at the snack.

"It's for you." he said like it's no big deal, his attention returning to whatever dish he was making. You felt warmth in your chest. Why did your heart start beating faster?

Without any comment you reached for the snack, soon enough taking the first bite. Caleb, still focused on his task, suddenly felt something pressing to his lips.

He looked at you in confusion, you only shrugged, your hand with the snack still next to his mouth, clearly waiting for him to take a bite. He did just that, and only then you finally lowered your hand, now you were acting like it was not a big deal.

Your food was holy to you, never sharing it with him (totally not because he was always stealing it himself and you were mad at him), what changed?

"Thank you." you said quietly, your gaze dropped to your legs.

"You have nothing to thank me for." he smiled at you.

"Actually, I have a lot to thank you for." your tone still too calm, you two were always playful, 'annoying' each other all the time, you jumped down from the counter, he didn't think much of it until your lips touched his cheek for a second. He stood there, dumbfounded, you pulled away whispering a quiet 'thank you' once more, before heading for something to the other room.

He stared at the food before him, feeling the warmth covering his ears. Well, that's... Unusual.

©alexrosa13 on tumblr

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ad perpetuam memoriam II

I II III IV

summary: you enroll at night raven college one year after the original yuu. a heartslabyul event and a mysterious letter type of post: series includes: ace, deuce, riddle, silver, sebek additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, this is all AU, not making predictions for how twst will end

"Leave me be,"

The hollow sound of knocking and the rasps of weary sighs end. Finally. You pull your blanket back over your head, content to sleep through the rest of the morning.

BANG!

The door splits itself apart, sparks of magic and smoke flying through the cool air.

Sebek Zigvolt, vice housewarden of Diasomnia, pushes his magic pen into the slim opening of his pocket before he comes inside.

"Up,"

He demands, curtly but not coldly, a hand on his hip. "I have no patience for your disrespect. Silver has been far too lenient with you."

Lenient. If lenient meant sending birds and squirrels through your window, then yes. If lenient meant trying to talk to you in your sleep, then certainly. If lenient meant sending his vicewarden to split your door in two, then Silver was the most lenient housewarden this dorm ever had!

...Not that you'd know.

"Lord Malleus would have torn this room apart, stone by stone, days ago," Sebek says. "You cannot shut yourself away as though you are some... sleeping princess in a tower! UP!"

Cold air touches your sweaty, crumpled body, and your blanket falls at Sebek's feet as he pulls it from you.

"You're ill," he asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

You say nothing, and he scoffs.

Sebek leers over you, the soft gray light of morning casting his shadow over your body. "You should consider yourself fortunate, that Silver has not thrown you out of this room yet. You are making a mockery of the Housewarden,"

With some difficulty, and, surely, some disgust, he lifts your sweaty, cold body from the bed.

Fwump.

Sebek sits you in the lounge, forcing you to keep upright with a hand on the nape of your neck. With the other, he holds a cracker to your lips. His hand doesn't move until you've eaten the entire thing.

"Sebek... What are you doing?"

Both of your eyes, sharp and wide, crusty and tired, turn to Silver.

"What does it look like?" the vicewarden scoffs. "Feeding your pet."

Silver looks taken aback, crystalline eyes reflecting your sordid state, and he hurries to your side.

"Gentle," he instructs his vicewarden, taking your hand in his. You can't seem to understand why he's so kind to you. You don't ask.

"Are you ill?" he asks (genuinely, this time). "You must be hungry..."

Sebek rolls his eyes, though even he looks a little uncomfortable at the thought, shifting where he stands.

"I'll prepare something," he mutters.

"Thank you, Sebek. That would be good,"

Silver's thumb draws lines and letters over the back of your hand, soothing you. He must have learnt that somewhere. You wonder what his parents are like.

"You've missed several days of classes. I've had some of your classmates collect your work for you. But don't worry about that now,"

You look away, eyes tired and barely open. Sick, yes, that's what you are. It's not that you'd been avoiding everyone... you're just... sick.

"Riddle wanted me to give this to you," Silver says, taking a delicate, elegant paper from his pocket. Had he been carrying that all weekend?

"It's an invitation for an unbirthday party, which-"

"I don't want to go," you don't even let him explain. Though you're not sure of what you want, now. Except for this headache to go away...

Silver frowns. "You should. You should make friends, or at least... talk... to someone. Deuce has been asking Sebek about you,"

For some strange reason, that makes your headache worse. Is it obligation? Guilt? Pity? Do these people think that if they care enough, one day they'll look at you and finally see someone else?

Is it so hard to believe that you're cared for?

Yes. It is.

"You should tell him I'm fine," you snap, though without meaning to. "I don't have to be friends with him, you know."

Silver winces, and you overflow with guilt. Something about him, the only person to, so far, treat you as a human and not a shadow, makes your stomach twist and turn.

"You're right. But he's trying. Really,"

"That's what they say," you relent.

"Yes. It's not easy for everyone," Silver dabs at some of the sweat and grease on your forehead with a handkerchief. "Especially those who were close to... never mind. Don't worry yourself about it. You have nothing to feel bad for, you belong here just as much as anyone does."

His gaze becomes hazy, unfocused, as he speaks. He may as well have been talking to himself.

"Soup!" Sebek announces, as if it were some kind of culinary battle cry.

He sits at your side in the comfortable darkness of the lounge and sets the warm bowl in your lap. It smells good.

"You cook?" you ask, absent-mindedly stirring the broth.

Sebek smirks. "Certainly. We both do,"

"We learned because Lil- er, my father is a terrible cook," Silver explains with a smile. "You're lucky he isn't here. He'd insist on making you his "specialty" and you'd end up worse than before."

You snort at that. "It can't possibly be that bad,"

"It is," the two say in unison. Sebek shudders at some memory, or another.

"He'd love you," Silver says. "So would... well... Malleus would understand."

Malleus. Your stay in Diasomnia has been haunted by that name, spoken into every conversation and implied between each breath.

Something about the way they spoke of him told you he wouldn't like you. You're not sure why.

"I guess that's good enough," you relent. Silver smiles, and Sebek pats your head, not knowing how else to show his approval.

"I'm unsure if this is entirely necessary-"

You catch yourself talking in that voice and just as soon shut your mouth. Have you always mirrored the others, or is it only a symptom of mania?

Perhaps you've been locked in that room for too long, after all.

Riddle doesn't seem to notice that you were mimicking his voice, or he doesn't say anything of it, at least, instead fixing the white and red sash of your scratchy uniform over your shoulder.

"It is. It's custom to be dressed in the Heartslabyul dorm uniform for an unbirthday party,"

"But I don't think that-"

"Hush," he pins the sash in place.

Riddle takes a step back, his chin comfortably cradled in his gloved palm. "Perfect. Now, let's make haste. It'd be uncouth for the Housewarden to be tardy,"

Great. Is that what you sound like??

You follow after him, the heels of your tight, pinchy boots click click clicking on the tile in rhythm with his.

"I would have had Deuce tend to you, as the former vice housewarden would have, but..." Riddle sighs. "He's doing his best, he's doing his best..."

You glance at him as he mutters the mantra to himself, fingers twitching around the magic pen in his pocket.

He withdraws them. "Of course, Ace has been of no help, either,"

Ace. A thought of a figure in red and white comes to mind, faceless and apprehensive. He was the one who had hugged you at the orientation ceremony.

You hadn't seen him since.

"Has he fallen ill?" you ask, still sounding all too like the housewarden.

"No," Riddle says. "Yes. It's... an affliction of the mind. Ahem. Never mind that."

"Oh,"

"Yes. Well, Deuce will have you. It was he who wanted to extend the invite... ever charitable,"

Yuck. The apprehension in Riddle's voice makes your skin crawl, even if it's not entirely aggressive.

"...Right,"

Riddle leads you through a door with a mockingly smiling face engraved on the knob, and into the gardens.

In another world, you might have liked it here. The tall, handsome hedges, the perfectly kept grass, the painted roses which seemed to sing in the golden sunlight... and, of course, the tables, one set after the other, in pinks and whites and greens and gold, a spread of teapots, tarts, jams, sugar, butter, on each one.

"Hey!" a merry, little-too-loud voice beckons from behind. You would have jumped, but a sudden hand on your shoulder keeps you tethered to the earth.

"There you are! I'm so glad you could come!" Deuce Spade smiles. "You look great... the uniform really suits you!"

"You think so?" you ask, feeling more like a circus clown than a student of the strictest dorm in school.

Deuce nods enthusiastically (a little too much so) and his hand slides to your wrist. "Oh, man, I have so many people to introduce you to,"

Dread. As much as you would have liked to run back to your room, or mingle on your own terms, or simply say no, you don't.

"...Great,"

"Great!" Deuce echoes, dragging you over the manicured lawn.

There is, at least, some comfort in the confusion, apathy, and meager care of Deuce's Heartslabyul dormmates. The disinterested greetings, the humble waves, the looks of pity, as if you were anyone but yourself. Then, at least, you can pretend as if you belong here.

"And one more person!"

You glance towards Riddle, scolding a first-year for spreading his jam "offensively" (whatever that means). You haven't had any food, yet. Or water. You haven't even sat down.

The taste of Sebek's soup is still stuck to your tongue. That was last night.

"Ace, over here!"

Dread. If there was anything in your stomach, it surely would have introduced itself to the front of your shirt.

Deuce drags you through the grass, caking your pointy shoes in mud and debris. Why, you? Why? He pushes and pries himself (and you, attached at the wrist) through a crowd of ooh-ing and ah-ing first-years. "Ace, look who it is!"

A boy with spiky, red hair, not unlike the hedgehogs Riddle had introduced you to earlier, bristles. The lively cards between his fingers die on his palms, and the table falls silent.

"Yeah?" Ace asks.

He doesn't seem too excited to see you.

"Look who it is!" Deuce repeats, as if Ace hadn't heard him the first time. He definitely had. "Finally decided to come!"

Ace shuffles the deck, slotting each card together, and then separating them again.

His eyes, narrowed, dark but fiery, like molten iron, never stray from Deuce. He doesn't even look at you.

"So?"

"So?" Deuce says. "Wouldn't you like to say hi?"

You tug, trying to break your wrist free of the binding of his hand, your body making some futile effort to escape.

Deuce doesn't budge.

Ace's eyes finally lower to his cards. "Nah, I'm good,"

The table seems to let out a collective sigh of relief, but the tension isn't done with. Ace's casual response had only thrown a blanket over the corpse of this conversation.

"...Oh. Okay," Deuce says, withdrawing from the first-years. "Sorry." he says to you.

You shake your head. "I should get back to Diasomnia, anyway. Silver needs me,"

He doesn't. No one really needs you.

Deuce doesn't have to know that.

"Oh, well..." he looks at his feet. "Um... if you... need anything, Riddle and I would be glad to help, 'kay?"

"...Sure,"

His grip is gone, and cold, afternoon air embraces your wrist. His palms had been sweaty, you grimace.

You leave the dorm uniform where Riddle had given it, dressing yourself in the familiarly unfamiliar clothes that Crowley had dumped on your doorstep days ago.

Though they're not really yours, they're still something you can call your own.

"Mind yourself," the strict sound of Riddle comes from the kitchen. "I can't recall having excused you."

Your mouth dries. "Did I... need to be excused?"

He comes into the light. At least his expression is softer than his voice.

"Well, you could have at least said good-bye,"

"...I didn't think anyone would notice-"

"Nonsense," his face goes red. "I would have. Are there no manners, where you come from?"

You open your mouth, but only breath comes out. Riddle coughs, taking out an embroidered handkerchief (you swear you've seen like, eight of those so far. This school is weird) and breathes into it. His face returns to its proper color.

"...And... breathe," he sighs. "Now... as for you. You mustn't think so lowly of yourself. You were invited to this event, were you not?"

You nod.

"Then you are wanted. I have heard from Silver that you haven't adjusted?"

"No one would," you mutter. Which seems logical to you. Who would "adjust" to being magicked into another world?

Riddle looks away for a moment. "...To some, it comes easier than others. Forgive Deuce for not knowing how to behave. He's... trying,"

You raise an eyebrow. Riddle sighs and waves off your look with his handkerchief.

"Trey would have known exactly what to do with you..." he says. "He would have had you bake something with him. Explained the rules, given you that... ugh, what was it? Some kind of sauce? As a practical joke... all very immature, yes, but it worked on the first-years.

And Cater, of course. He would have treated it like a holiday. Sevens, my head hurts just imagining the hashtags..."

You snort, if only at Riddle's memories, names and faces you didn't know.

He smiles. "I suppose Deuce sympathizes with you, in that way. You both have certain expectations to meet. The difference is that you didn't ask for yours... ahem. Take care,"

You walk back to school feeling unlike yourself. Your chest is light, your feet don't seem to meet the earth, and your mind is elsewhere. Not here, but not at home, either.

Riddle's awkward words of comfort were gauze to your bleeding heart, though it bled on nonetheless.

But they gave you something to imagine. Something to soothe your mind.

What was this place like before?

Most days, the school felt more like a museum. Dates and titles, portraits without faces in golden frames, hung above your head and hands, unreachable, untouchable.

Everything, every conversation, every question, every word of solace, every smile, was a test you hadn't studied for. A funeral for a person you hadn't known.

No one has lifted the lid of the coffin. Maybe that person has been mangled beyond recognition. Maybe that person is you.

You stop.

There is the dilapidated dorm called Ramshackle, and the one light in its foggy window. The lingering smell of mildew feels like a lullaby. It sings, come in, come in and enjoy the quiet, this is your grave.

Your foot turns, the toe of your shoe dragging across the beaten cobblestone, toward the lullaby, the singing, and the quiet.

Then, there's a hand on your shoulder.

"Lost?"

You would have screamed, but you're suddenly bound by another hand, this one larger and colder than Deuce Spade's, and you're beckoned back into the school.

"Oh, don't fret," the Headmage chirps. "It's an absolutely labyrinthine campus! I've had to collect twenty-six lost students this week alone. I've considered maps, but think of the cost... print is not free, you know!"

You steady yourself, finding your breath and balance again.

It feels more as if the Headmage is talking to himself than to you, and so you don't speak, following him (not of your own will, of course) through the dark, abandoned halls of the school.

"...And I resolved to doing it myself, but it really is such a hassle... I am a busy man, you know," he says. "Though, never too busy for you! Housewarden Vanrouge has come to me with some concerns about your socializing... or, rather, lack of it. Oh- now, don't give me that pout! I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I told him to forget it. I said, not all magicless students from another world will be spry, sociable sixteen-year-olds! And it gives you more time to focus on me- ah, your studies. But now that you've mentioned it, I do have a few cabinets that could use sorting..."

Crowley stops before a door, as tall and dark as he, but without any ability to speak, which makes it slightly more tolerable.

"Here we are," he smiles.

"Here... where?"

"The mail room," he takes a key from his ensemble and slots it in the imposing door. "Now, wait here."

You raise an eyebrow. Mail room? It's getting dark- the shadows on the walls are slanted, and the sun had given its last breath while he was monologuing. Surely, he's not asking you to sort anything now...

"You know, I thought letter-writing had fallen out of fashion," Crowley says, returning from the depths of the dark. "What, with the emails, and the text messages, and the... ah, that reminds me, I'll have to procure you a phone for emergencies... er, but later. Here, for you."

He hands you an envelope, cream-colored and smooth. There is no name, nor return address on the back. It is simply addressed to the "Residing Second Magicless Student of Night Raven College."

You feel the rich, creamy paper under your thumbs. It smells like smoke.

"Now, don't look at me," Crowley says. "I haven't the slightest clue of who might write you from outside the college. In fact, it makes me worry about our campus security... ah, I'll have someone look at that tomorrow. Good night, dear."

He leaves you there in the hall, envelope in hand, a frown on your lips.

It's dark now. The light has vanished beyond the imposing walls of the school, the shadows have become long-limbed and monstrous, and the sky is blue and red in the blood of the setting sun.

You turn the envelope over. There is still no name. A single wax seal, imprinted in the shape of a bell, is the only sign of life.

Weird. All of this is weird.

You walk home in the dark and cold.

[lohotine]

``Drunk? Not Me!``

□ Ie: What they're like when they're drunk □

▪︎ Multiple x GN! Reader ▪︎

Ft: Shadow Milk, Stardust, Black Sapphire

CW: Drunk (character), Stardust calls reader pretty but it's still GN, slight suggestive themes in Black Sapphire's, but still SFW.

-Lightly proofread

Shadow Milk

Okay. So realistically he's probably the quiet drunk that contemplates his life decisions, but I'm not trying to write someone having an existential crisis rn, so you can have the talkative one instead. That's probably better reading material anyway, right?

"Hey... 'm not even that drunk... just one kiss?" He shifts closer to you on the bed, hands snaking around your waist as your back is pushed against his chest.

"You told me not to let you kiss me because you'd be 'out drinking ambroisia with the other beasts'." You crossed your arms, not turning to face him. Was it petty? Perhaps...

To be fair; he also said he wouldn't drink that much, yet here he is, clinging to you like some lost child.

He whined and pressed his head into the crook of your neck. "Dumb mortals... Can't even taste ambrosia without dying.. so stupid."

You sighed. He really is such a loser sometimes.

Suddenly, he would perk up and place his chin on your shoulder. "Go get me water."

Rude.

"What happened to please and thank you?"

"Go get me water. Thank you."

This guy...

You ended up getting his water anyway. (He'd only get more cranky without it.)

"Here's your water." You held it out for him, to which he accepted.

"Much better." He placed the cup down on a nearby table after drinking it, a small clink sounding in the room when he does so.

"You know," he began to say, watching you sit back down on the bed, "it was pretty fun. Mystic Flour kept swearing, and Eternal Sugar passed out halfway through." He would grin at the thought. "Lightweights! Am I right?"

You nodded half-mindedly before he laid his head in your lap, closing his eyes.

It was odd, to say the least. Usually, he isn't one to initiate moments like these... being as emotionally stubborn as he is.

You'd gently run your fingers through his hair. "I'm glad you had fun," you'd say.

The both of you would remain there for a while, a silence overcoming you both. It was nice. In that moment, words weren't needed.

He then slowly opened his eyes, just gazing at you softly. He pushed himself off of your lap and gently cupped your face with his hands. "I want you to kiss me. Why won't you kiss me?" He whined once more.

"Because you were drinking ambrosia. You know, you could have just drank regular alcohol..." you mumbled, pushing his face away from yours.

He frowned at the statement. "You're so mean t'me... you know that? Burning Spice would never let me hear the end of it. Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to drink regular wine?"

Of course that's what he's worried about.

You begin to coat his face in feathery light kisses. One here, one there. Just to hopefully get him to shut up. "Better?"

You don't miss how his gaze falls elsewhere. Or how his breath hitches slightly when you pull away. "No," he mumbles.

Liar...

Stardust

Very much a lightweight... but at least he's happy, right? He's legit so in love with you- I kinda headcanon that he makes bird noises when he's happy because his other form looks kind of like a bird- sorry, am I being weird?

"You're so pretty..." he would murmer against your ear, his stary cape swaying before wrapping itself around the both of you.

You're sure he was during it subconsciously, and it would be nice... if it weren't for the fact that he runs so cold.

"Stardust, you're freezing..."

He gives a small hum in a response, then a small sorry that's barely audible. He rests his head on your shoulder, and you can't resist the small smile that appears on your face.

Black Sapphire

You gently scratch the bottom of his chin, earning a coo from him.

"I love you," he'd say mindlessly. "do you love me too?"

The question makes you chuckle. "Of course..."

Stardust would gently tilt your chin up with his index finger. "I wanna hear you say it.."

You intertwined your pinky with his; then your entire hand, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. You can still taste the feint residue of wine on them before pulling away.

"I love you," you'd say.

He just continues staring into your eyes, almost breathless. Your eyes seemed as though they held the entire universe in them. (Oh dear... was that too cheesy of him?)

(It was true though. At least to him.)

"I love you too..." he repeated once more. Stardust wasn't sure how many times he'd repeat that exact sentence throughout the night...

Though rest assured, him saying it in abundance doesn't make it any less true.

Tell me this man can't keep his hands off of you. He's legit so down bad. (SIMP) It's okay, me too <333

Your fingers worked to slowly remove his tie, his wings fluttering behind him at the action.

It was cute, really. How you could tell exactly what he was thinking because of them.

"Your hands always feel so good.." he'd mumble mindlessly.

"Mmmm, is that so?"

He presses a kiss to your temple, giving a small hum in response. "You should've been there..." his kisses began to trail down your neck. "-missed you."

You eye him.

"Well, someone had to stay sober to take care of you. You're such a sloppy drunk, you know..."

You could feel his grin against your neck. "I can't help it when 'm with you." One of his hands moved to grab your chin, adjusting your head so he had a better view of your neck.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" You ask acusingly.

"Just giving my significant other some well-deserved love for taking such good care of me," he'd coo. The statement earned a glare from you.

"I don't think so. Not when you're this drunk." Seriously, where was his shame? He was normally much more of a gentleman!

He released your chin shortly after that before staring at you with eyes that held very little thought behind them, though his grin remained. "Suit yourself."

He managed to behave himself for a total of seven seconds before folding once more.

"But don't you think it's a bit cruel to deprive me of any kisses? I work very hard, don't I?" He leaned in closer towards you, his nose brushing against yours.

"I suppose, but what does that have anything to do with me kissing you?"

He places his hands on your hips, sighing at the statement, "You're heartless, denying an intoxicated man of his pleasure... This'll keep me up until daybreak, you know."

You rolled your eyes. He was being dramatic again. His nagging would continue all night if you didn't give him what he wanted.

So, to much of your dismay, (but to much of his pleasure!) you ended up giving this needy man his kiss.

(He quickly stole another one from you as well, but you decided not to scold him for it.)

His wings flitted for the second time that night, and he smiled contently. "Sweet... I could get drunk off your lips instead."

"Yeah yeah," you'd mumble before finnally pulling him into bed. "Can we sleep now?"

He rested his chin on the top of your head. "I suppose..."

You closed your eyes and felt the fuzziness of sleep take over you pretty quickly. You'd never admit it to him, but you also ended up missing him quite a bit...

[moonmaiden1996]

The Monster Maomao Created Part 6

In the days that followed, the palace existed in a strange state of chaotic calm. The war and the army were never spoken of aloud, as if silence could somehow keep the troubles at bay. Life continued under a thin veil of normalcy, with bustling preparations for the upcoming festival filling the air with noise and color.

Yet amidst the flurry of activity, one presence was notably absent.

Jinshi.

He had vanished into the distance, always tending to some matter or another. Occasionally, a flash of his amethyst hair or the swirl of embroidered robes would be glimpsed in a corridor—gone before you could call out. It was infuriating, this constant game of hide and go seek. A conversation had clearly taken place—though what had been said, and to what end, remained a mystery. 

What was more annoying is that you had looked into his golden obsidian eyes and believed he would look after you. What had he done but abandon you?

Still, the gifts continued to arrive—lavish, frequent, and unmistakably meant for you. They were sent with such frequency that even the palace gardens had begun to hum with whispers. Maids, noblewomen, even court officials now speculated in hushed tones behind fluttering fans. Which in itself was normal, if they didn’t you would worry but no they seem to spread like wildfire each more outrageous than the last. 

‘’...The emperor is surely getting his brother to spend gifts…..yes to get rid of Empress Gyokuyou.’’

‘’I am sure she is earning those gifts…’’

‘’It could be quite innocent…the Imperial brother is quite awkward…’’

‘’Cunning cow…’’

“She must have put something in his tea—he’s utterly bewitched. I heard he is already trying to arrange a marriage between them with her father.”

“I heard she refused the first gift… that’s how you know she’s clever. A refusal makes them send more.”

“Or she’s being tested. A trap, maybe. One slip and she’ll be banished.”

“She walks like she’s already Empress… doesn’t she?”

“If Gyokuyou has any sense, she’d act now. Before it’s too late.”

Which left you with only one course of action. 

xxxxxxxx

"My lady..."

"I said take them back. I do not want them."

"My master only wishes to—"

You looked the man over with barely concealed irritation. Gaoshun—recognizable by his crisp robes and the subtle braiding on his robes. They really ought to be more careful about which attendants they send. Anyone with sense would eventually realize: those who served Jinshi also served the imperial brother.

"Your master's gifts are causing gossip to spread through the court. Which makes them question my intention and honor. I will not allow that. If I am to marry I can not with such a cloud above me."

"My lady—"

"He is scaring away any intention I have to make a good match. If he wishes to send gifts, then let him bring them himself but since I have neither chaperone nor father to attend me, I suggest he refrains. Until such time, no one—not even a servant—will be admitted to the villa unless they belong to my household. Is that clear?"

The Gaoshun bowed, grave and silent. "Very well. I shall inform the prince."

As he exited the room, your ladies behind you shivered in quiet terror.

"My lady... won't the imperial brother be angry with you?" one of them whispered.

"Frankly, I doubt he cares," you replied coolly, adjusting the pin in your hair- your fathers pin- with deliberate grace. "The prince has never called on me. He's never even requested my presence. I highly doubt he’ll care now."

Instead of the moon-prince’s embellished pin, today you wore one in the style of your mother—a Western design, simple and elegant, a quiet statement of your own choosing.

"I will be attending the Empress's court today."

"Are you sure, my lady? Wouldn’t it be safer to remain in the villa?"

"Nonsense." You stood tall, chin high. "It is important, and the longer I stay hidden, the more power I give to rumors. Let them see me. Let them see that I am not afraid."

Xxxxxxxxxx

“She said what!?”

Gaoshun practically wilted under his gaze—not because he feared his young master, but because he was utterly exhausted by Jinshi’s moods. They were either unnecessarily high or painstakingly low. His fixation was not something that could be broken. Not with politics, nor court drama, even the little apothecary didn’t seem able to loosen Jinshi’s grip on you.

Nothing could shake his focus on the young maiden, and Gaoshun feared that unwavering obsession was his fault. He had thought it good practice, sound discipline, to take away his trinkets when he grew too attached—to teach restraint, to keep his affections from becoming unruly. The silken doll, the carved crane, the strange foreign music box Jinshi had once adored… all tucked away, one after another, as soon as his attachment to them grew too intense. "Better to train him early," Gaoshun had told himself. "Affection is a liability in court."

But all he had done was teach Jinshi that if he loved something, it would be taken away—cruelly snatched from his hands the moment it became dear. It had worked, to some extent. The boy had learned control, restraint, the art of hiding his affections beneath a composed mask. But beneath that surface, something darker had bloomed. Now, his love was not gentle or fleeting. It was possessive. Paranoid. Fierce in its grip and relentless in its fear of losing you. He didn’t simply want to protect—you—he needed to. 

Jinshi clung to you with the same desperate, possessive energy he once reserved for those toys—only now it was sharper, more dangerous. There was a panic just beneath the surface, one Gaoshun recognized all too well. The fear that someone would take you away and lock you in some out-of-the-way box, never to be seen again.

“My lord…”

“Tell me exactly what she said.” Jinshi’s hands slammed down on the desk as he glared at him, fury blazing.

Heaving a deep, weary sigh, Gaoshun relented. “She said… if she is to marry, she cannot do so with such a cloud over her. That your gifts are scaring away any chance she has to make a good match.”

In one swift, furious motion, Jinshi swept the papers from his desk, scattering them across the floor—documents Gaoshun had only just organized for the ministers. Youth is a scary thing.

“Did I not say I would protect her?” Jinshi’s voice cracked with frustration. “Have I not kept guards near her quarters, sent gifts, arranged for the most trusted masters to teach the boys? Did I not petition the Emperor to give her mother relief with the turmoil along their lands?”

“Master Jinshi, you must think of the Lady’s position. She is completely unaware that you are the Moon Prince. She believes the gifts are from him—hence why the gifts are…” Gaoshun continued, even under the weight of Jinshi’s obsidian glare, the gold flecks in his eyes burning molten in the darkness. “Problematic for her. They’re sure to make tongues wag in the court. She is already in a dangerous situation as it is. And there’s the fact that she has been of marriageable age for some time. It's not surprising that she might hope to start her own household. It is likely she wishes to have children of her own, given how well she cares for her brothers.”

Jinshi huffed, hair falling in sleek waves over his shoulder as he tilted his head, jaw tight.

“The Imperial Brother has yet to grace her with his presence, which might be perceived as a slight on her part. It is not wholly unreasonable for her to seek another.”

Jinshi’s eyes burned. His brow furrowed into an unrelenting glare, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the counter, fury etched into every line of his frame.

“My deepest apologies…” Gaoshun bowed lowly, one hand outstretched before him as he dipped as far as he could without toppling over.

“Tell me everything.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gaoshun winced as he hurried behind his master, who all but flew through the courts, ignoring everyone and everything in his path. Not even Empress Gyokuyou, seated serenely in the garden, earned so much as a glance. Gaoshun was fairly certain Jinshi didn’t even register her presence—his focus was fixed, unwavering, eyes sweeping the palace grounds in search of the one person who occupied his every waking thought.

You. 

Sat underneath a blooming blossom looking utterly at ease, sunlight catching in your hair as petals drifted lazily around you. Beside you sat Lady Lee and her son—the boy impressively dressed in his military uniform, polished and poised, the very picture of a prospective husband.

A soft giggle tingled in the air, making Gaoshun wince just as Empress Gyokuyou broke into an uncontrollable laugh. Her bright green eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched the young master march straight toward the group beneath the blossoms.

“Master Jinshi does seem to have a very pressing matter, doesn’t he, Gaoshun? Hm?” Hongniang snapped, eyes narrowed. “Not even a greeting to the Empress.” Her mistress giggled beside her, laughter bubbling in the summer air.

“A thousand apologies,” Gaoshun said with a tight, weary bow. “Master Jinshi needed to give her… a pressing update.”

“I’m sure he did,” Empress Gyokuyou sniggered, voice light with mischief. She hid her amusement behind her fan, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her delight.

‘’Even so it is most rude of the Overseer.’’ Hongniang eyebrow twitching. 

Gaoshun paled, his head snapping around as he frantically surveyed the scene behind him.

You and Jinshi were gone and Lady Lee sat frozen, bewildered, her gaze fixed on the garden gate. Beside her, her son looked positively disturbed—pale, stiff, and vaguely ill, looking fair less like a prospective husband and more like a little boy who had just escaped with his life.

‘’Master Jinshi!’’ 

This time, both Hongniang and the Empress could not contain their laughter as Gaoshun scuttled in search after his master.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jinshi was mad. Madder than you had ever seen him—mad in a way that aged him, making him look far older than his years. He seemed positively unhinged as he stormed up to the table and leaned close to Lady Lee’s son, whispering something with a sharp intensity that drained the boy’s color and will. Whatever he said had its desired effect—the young man looked ready to collapse and die.

Without a word, Jinshi seized you and dragged you out of the garden gate, down the paths toward one of the distant pavilions.

“Will you let me go?” you wriggled, trying to escape his grip, twisting and shifting beneath his hold.

But no matter how much you struggled, his grasp remained unyielding as you stumbled behind him.

“You’re hurting me,” you said—a weak protest, one you knew was unlikely to make him relent.

He didn’t stop. Instead, he cast a lingering glance at you. You gasped.

His eyes were black—not just the irises, but the entire depths of his gaze seemed possessed, flickering darkly as they dropped to where his hand encircled your wrist. After a brief inspection, he turned sharply and quickened his pace, pulling you into an abandoned pavilion.

With a soft but firm motion, he shut the screen tightly behind you. You tumbled onto the soft mats, grateful for their cushioning as you hit the floor.

‘’What is wrong with you! What on earth possessed you to…’’ 

He was on top of you in an instant. Jinshi looked positively debauched—hair tousled, falling into an amethyst curtain around you, cheeks flushed with a fierce heat. His obsidian eyes were deep, dark pools of lust, hungry and unrelenting. Robes slipped from his shoulders, revealing the pale column of his throat, as, painstakingly, he cradled your head and hip, lowering you down against the soft mat.

His gaze pinned you to the floor, his body pressing between your thighs. His strong hand slid from your hip to beneath your knee, hiking it up to rest beside his hip and he laid against you fully.

“Do you want to find out?”

You felt it. Dear God, you felt it—a hard bulge pressing insistently against your stomach. To drive his point home, he shifted ever so slightly, pressing the member deeper into your skin.

Did Maomao really give him a copy of that damn book? You wanted to snap back, to taunt him, to scowl and hit him—but you couldn’t move. His eyes held you captive, flickering across your face with an intensity that stole your breath.

He gritted his teeth, breath hot and heavy, as the silence thickened between you.

“I work hard to protect you and your brother and this is how I find you. Is that what you want? A boy in a uniform—or a man with a title?” he growled, lowering his head until it hovered just above yours, so close you could feel the heat of every word searing your skin.

“I told you I would protect you—that you didn’t need to thrust yourself into another’s arms to find safety… When everything is in place I would explain this all. ”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“But no. I found you out here, having tea with that...” Jinshi’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper, the words heavy with accusation. “...prospective husband.”

He tightened his grip slightly, fingers digging into your hip as his obsidian eyes bore into yours. “Do you think I’m some fool? That I won’t see through every smile, every polite word exchanged behind my back?”

His breath brushed your cheek, hot and ragged. His gaze softened for just a moment, vulnerability flickering beneath the fierce possessiveness. “Tell me—what do you want, truly? Because I’m not willing to lose you to anyone else.”

“We cannot be together. You are a eunuch.”

He stilled—then let out a low growl, a sound that trembled at the edge of control.

“Is that still what you think?” he snarled, pressing himself fully onto you, his hips sinking down until he rested flush against your core, grinding into you with slow, deliberate pressure.

“Even the damn suppressant can’t dampen what you do to me.”

You gasped at the sensation, your breath stolen. And then his mouth was on yours, hot and hungry kissing you with the kind of desperation that left no room for doubt, no space for reason. It was a branding kiss, searing down to your bones. His lips parted yours, stealing your breath as his tongue swept in. 

His hips moved against you in slow, grinding rolls, deliberate and punishing in their rhythm. Every movement sent a jolt of heat through you, his hardness pressing through the layers between you, perfectly aligned with your core. He rocked into you with aching precision, each grind making you moan louder into his mouth. His hand slid back down your thigh, gripping it tighter, hiking it higher around his waist, drawing you closer, deeper into the heat of him.

“My lord?” Gaoshun’s voice rang out just beyond the screen, too polite to barge in, too alarmed not to try.

Outside, the rustling of footsteps grew louder—measured but quick. Gaoshun’s voice, muffled at first, called out with forced calm.

Jinshi froze. His entire body went taut above you, breath caught, eyes wild. For a moment, neither of you moved.

“My lord?” Gaoshun called again, a note of genuine concern—and barely contained exasperation—creeping into his voice. “Are you in there? Lady Lee’s son looks like he’s about to faint, and Her Majesty is now asking questions…”

A soft thud broke the silence as he stepped onto the wooden boards outside the pavilion door. Making Jinshi’s entire body still, still pressing into your core. You curled your fingers tighter into his robes, your heart hammering. You didn’t want him to move. You didn’t know what you wanted—but you knew you didn’t want him to stop. You tilted your hips to gain that feeling just one more time

Jinshi’s eyes flicked down to your face, stilted moans catching in his throat. The fire was still there, burning just beneath the surface—but something else passed over him too. A kind of clarity. A painful, choking restraint.

He lowered his forehead to yours, exhaling shakily. Then, with a tenderness that made your chest ache, he cupped your cheek. The hunger in his eyes had softened into something achingly gentle. He leaned in, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your temple.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I shouldn’t have… not like this.” He stopped himself, jaw tightening.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back—one hand brushing down your thigh to ease it from around his waist, the other still lingering at your cheek, reverent, as though afraid to let go.

“I’ll lead Gaoshun away,” he said, rising and adjusting his robes with practiced composure. “Slip out through the north gate. No one will see you.”

He bent down to press one last kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell, unintentionally, to the tented material of his robes. His face flushed deeply before he turned away, quickly drawing the outer layer of his garments around himself. At the door, he paused—just for a moment. Glancing over his shoulder, his obsidian eyes simmered, catching the sunlight that streamed through the gaps in the wooden paneling, casting golden shards across the floor where you lay.

“This isn’t over,” he said, his gaze latching onto you.

And then he was gone—his voice calm, composed as he called out to Gaoshun, as if nothing had happened at all. While you remained behind, a flushed, breathless mess on the pavilion floor.

Please let me know what you think! I have been inspired by warrior Jinshi. We will definitely be seeing him in that armour at some point in this story!  

Also I know some people are confused that I describe Jinshi as having gold eyes, that was my bad. I know in the anime they are purple/pink but apparently they are black in the light novel so that's what I will use going forward!

@btsgangleader @thecrazyone2007 @solatiiium @ylovei @mybones537 @clairedeselene @1-800-peakyblinders @traumatizedpomelo @sarcastic-wit @chaixsherlock @uniquecutie-puffs @is-it-night-or-day @j-ywrld

[sayruq]

First, this shows a delusional lack of understanding of Hamas by a former Israeli general. Hamas is neither pleased to see its own people destroyed (all of its fighters are Gazans, born and raised there. The people being killed their relatives, friends and neighbours) nor is it worried about Gazans 'rising in rebellion.' Why would Gazans rebel against their own resistance movement instead of the IDF? I know some people are going to say, 'Eiland is trying to soothe a dissatisfied Israeli public,' but earlier today, the IDF released a statement about Yusuf al-Mansi who is being held and tortured.

They're not just targeting Western audiences by trying to blame their crimes on Hamas, they're also trying to convince Gazans.

Look at all the dumb decisions made by the IDF - tanks with no infantry support, urban warfare against a guerilla army with an extensive tunnel system, letting their soldiers filming themselves (which both alienates the world and gives away their location), lying very incompetently about the war crimes it commits (like the siege and destruction of Al Shifa Hospital), releasing videos of IDF fighters shooting at walls, furniture, the air itself, etc and that's just in Gaza. The Israel government is now threatening to start war in Lebanon and fight the Ansar Allah group in Yemen the same time.

Secondly this signals that Israel has no intention of ending the siege soon. While Gazans are at risk of mass starvation, the real threat is disease, particularly illnesses like typhoid, cholera and dysentery.

We must not stop demanding that Gazans get sufficient humanitarian aid (not 20 measly trucks of expired food)

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

“_____ happened to sae in spain” “sae and rin just need to communicate” all of these statements are ones that i agree with, but i think that there are way more to the itoshi brothers’ relationship than just the fight during the snow night and what happened to sae during spain, and now that people are theorizing that sae might be coming back, it seems like the perfect time to talk about my opinion on the itoshi family dynamic.

to start off with a quick disclaimer: i’ve always been a huge rin fan, and i’ve never been able to properly from a solid opinion on sae as my opinions on him are always changing. in short, sae reminds me of a celebrity that had never been media trained and therefore says whatever comes to their mind, which often makes them come off as dislikable. sae is a character that i think is funny because he is fictional, but would most likely hate in real life because of his attitude. despite this, i do think that sae is incredibly well written and that his character writing deserves to be talked about. okay, let’s start with the itoshi family yap.

to start off, i’d like to bring attention to the fact that every single itoshi sibling flashback we have seen in the series (as of 298) are all from rin’s pov. got that? okay. the itoshi brothers are known for their eyes, but never once in any of rin’s flashbacks have we seen his parents’ eyes. people often say that eyes are the gate to soul or truth, and yet rin can’t remember his parents’ eyes from his childhood. this isn’t hard cold proof that they’re necessarily abusive, but i just think that this proves that rin is likely very distant with his parents, or was scared of them in his childhood. this is backed up by the fact that rin always only asked sae for advice and never his parents.

not only that, but there are numerous red flags in the itoshi parents’ parenting skills. for starters, please tell me which parent thinks that it’s perfectly alright for their children of 5 and 7 years old to walk home alone at night with just enough money to only buy some ice cream. i understand that japan has a low crime rate, but that doesn’t meant that crime is nonexistent there.

additionally, why would responsible parents allow a thirteen year old (sae) to go to a whole other continent for his career? child celebrities are a tragic topic in itself, and just allowing sae to be exposed to much more paparazzi and toxicity in a country that isn’t as polite as japan (where sae already hates the media) seems like inefficient parenting to me. sae has been explicitly stated in the egoist bible to be academically lacking, so how does his parents expect that he’ll naturally be able to adapt to an entirely new continent when he doesn’t really know how to work in this one?

now let’s talk about how their parents treat rin. from flashbacks, we can see that rin grew up with no survival skills whatsoever and isn’t the most clever. this is just a personal assumption, and i am not diagnosing rin as i am not a professional psychologist or therapist, but i believe that rin has some sort of mental disorder. anyways, when rin’s parents discuss him, they seem to be nothing but stressed. im not blaming them for this; im not a parent, but if my child is constantly coming home with more injuries, id be stressed too. but they don’t talk to him about it, they don’t ask him about it. if you want to know what is going on in your child’s mind, then why don’t you, i dont know, ask them about it?

more about how they treat rin, during rin’s flashback of the snowy night when sae came back, rin is practicing in the middle of winter with scarcely anything to keep him warm. not only that, but it is extremely dark out. it is implied by his teammates that rin practices out in the dark alone often. rin is hard working and ambitious, we know that for a fact. but are his parents not concerned about rin’s health? are they not worried that he might get sick?

then when sae comes back, it is explicitly stated by rin that sae has lost weight, and it is shown that sae had dark circles underneath his eyes. if i were a parent and my underage child was in another continent by themself, i would be FaceTiming them as much as i can to check on them. based on from what we’ve already establish, i doubt sae’s parents had done that with him. but even if they did, how did they not see their child lost weight? how did they not see him have dark circles underneath his eyes? not only that, but people have to return every six months to their home country when they’re in another country. sae was in spain for 4 years, meaning that he had more than one visit back to japan. so how did his parents not notice?

and finally, my last piece of evidence that the itoshi parents are negligent and incompetent: how the fuck do they not realize their sons’ current relationship? first of all, when rin returns home from his fight with sae, he breaks all of sae’s trophies and pictures, and there are many cracks and loud noises. how do they not hear that? okay, maybe they weren’t home. i’ll give them a pass for that. but would they not see the broken pieces, or if rin had cleaned them up, would they not notice an entire shelf of trophies and pictures missing? do they really not go into their son’s room at all? sure, maybe it’s for privacy, but not going in there at all seems incompetent. who knows what he might be doing in there?

also, if every time you mention your older son’s name and your younger son is gritting his teeth and clenching his fist and is clearly upset, how are you just going to ignore that and not realize that you know, they might not be on good terms? because if their parents had noticed, then maybe they would have forced rin and sae to talk it out and at least try to make up.

so in conclusion, rin and sae’s relationship was definitely partially shattered by sae’s words, but more so by their parents. i know that there are a lot of people who beg rin and sae to communicate, but i don’t think that it will be that easy. miscommunication is something that they learned from their parents, as their parents were clearly incompetent in their childhoods, so i doubt that sae and rin will actively communicate with one another unless there is a third party (cough cough isagi) involved that might force them into talking to each other properly about the situation.

also side note: this entire “miscommunication comes from your parents” and the whole incompetence theme throughout this yap session also might be the reason for sae’s lack of knowledge of rin’s anger at him, as it was confirmed by kaneshiro that sae isn’t aware of rin’s one sided beef against him.

[sematarygirls]

                                                  part one here .ᐟ

⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── wounds that bind

Your eyelids fluttered open easily, no longer feeling as if they were weighed down by a ton of lead. You found yourself staring up at a white, tiled ceiling, the fluorescent lights ahead almost as blinding as the sun had been when you last opened your eyes. Your brain still felt fuzzy, maybe even fuzzier than it had before.

You registered the sharp scent of alcohol and a steady beeping that sounded like it was practically in your brain, rattling the organ around with each piercing screech that echoed out. Your brows furrowed, a small groan falling from your lips as you felt a dull ache in your abdomen.

Warmth. You felt something warm in your palm. It took you a moment in your delirium, which you could only assume was the result of the pain drugs they'd shot (unfortunate word choice) you up with, to realize that it was another person's hand wrapped around yours tightly, as if the person was afraid you'd disappear if they let go.

You rolled your head to the side, the situation reminiscent of the way you'd woken up on the ground with a gunshot wound and a very scrambled brain. At least the universe had the decency to let you keep your memory this time—well, the little memory you had when you'd passed out in the ambulance.

Your eyes fell on a hunched over figure, his broad shoulders slumped with worry and defeat. It was Rafe. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, his eyes red and puffy, and his hair disheveled. He was still wearing the blood-stained shirt that he was wearing before. You didn't know how long you'd been out, but however long it was, he hadn't left your side, and it showed.

Your eyes narrowed on him. You had a realization before the blood loss had pulled you from the land of the living. You were looking into Rafe's glassy blue eyes, flooded with guilt and fear when a face flashed briefly across your field of vision—the face of the man who shot you. Rafe wasn't the one that shot you. You knew this to be true, but if that was the case, why had his face reminded you of the man who did?

Even now, staring at his anguished features, there was an unsettling familiarity about him that sent a chill down your spine. Something about him was giving you flashbacks to the moment that gun went off. You could practically hear the bang followed by the intense ringing as your body hit the ground harshly.

Why was he a trigger if he wasn't involved in some way?

As if sensing your intense stare, he picked his head up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting your gaze. You couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked, even when crying. The gloss over his blue eyes, the way his long lashes caught his tears, his furrowed brow, his lower lip trembling as he pouted—it was all the effortless picture of perfect.

"Oh, thank god, you're awake." He let out a shaky breath, bringing your entwined hands to his mouth and kissing your knuckles softly. His body relaxed slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained.

You didn't say anything, simply stared at him calculatingly as your eyes roamed every inch of his face. You were willing the figure from before to reappear in your memory, to make itself known, so you weren't stuck in the dark. You felt helpless being so utterly confused, and it was infuriating.

His gaze searched yours desperately, as if he could see the gears turning in your head. You knew he could tell that you were trying to remember, and by the way he seemed to squirm under your gaze, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly, you could tell he was afraid of whatever there was to find.

"I was shot," you croaked out, your throat dry and voice raspy from disuse. The statement came out harsh, accusing. Obviously, you'd been shot, but it was the only thing on your mind right now.

You hadn't yet fully unlocked the part of your brain that loved Rafe and would've all but jumped into his arms at the sight of him after nearly dying. You also hadn't yet fully grasped that you almost died, the whole thing still seeming like you were stuck in a dream-like haze.

Who? Who shot you? It was the only thing you could focus on. It was the only thing you cared about. Maybe because you wanted some sort of penance for what happened, maybe because you wanted to feel in control or at peace by knowing who did this to you, or maybe, it was just morbid curiosity plain and simple.

Either which way you spun it, tried to justify your misplaced priorities—not even fear creeping itself into the jumbled mess of thoughts bouncing around your head—you needed to know what happened and why you had the nagging feeling that Rafe was apart of it.

His jaw clenched at your accusatory tone, something flickering in his eyes—fear, maybe?—before it was gone instantly, masked with concern. He swallowed hard, your eyes tracking the movement of his adam's apple before darting back up to meet his intense stare.

And suddenly, it was like you were violently pulled back into the moment, the scene playing before you, a memory extracted from the depths of your foggy brain simply by the look in his eyes.

A familiar voice called your name. When you turned, you felt your heart sink to your stomach as you found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun. The moment seemed to play in slow motion. Rafe was yelling—at you, at the assailant; he was frantic. You couldn't focus on anything but the metal catching the sunlight and glinting ominously, taunting you to your fate.

A bang. A scream. Your back hit the ground. Your eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, that was when Rafe was over you, the pogues crowding around in a panic as they watched you bleed out.

The moment played at an odd pace—slow but fast, lasting an instant while somehow, simultaneously, lasting an eternity. You felt like you only had more questions than answers after that.

Why were you shot? What were you doing? Where were you friends during all this?

"You were there," you said, your eyes widening as you met his gaze again. He was there with the man who shot you. He showed up with him, led him to you. He was protecting his father, clearly having hoped you wouldn't remember at the first sign of your amnesia.

"No, baby, you're confused," he tried to lie, but his face said it all. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough to know that he had let his dad flee the scene, intending to cover for him. You had to wonder whether he even truly cared if you lived, or if he was only keeping you alive so his dad didn't catch a murder charge. "The doctors say you have a form of amnesia people sometimes get when they go through something traumatic. And-and they think you might've hit your head when you fell, so you don't-"

"Don't lie to me," you said harshly cutting him off, pulling your hand away from him and wincing at the pain that the sudden movement caused. "Ward." You glared at him, watching his features contort in guilt and fear as you uttered his father's name. "Your dad shot me."

It all made sense now. Rafe's face triggered your memory before because he looked like his dad. Those features you'd traced and committed to memory were the very same ones that he shared with the man that tried to kill you.

Would you ever be able to forget that? Even if you somehow forgave Rafe for whatever part he played in this, would you ever be able to look at him and not flash back to the patriarch of the Cameron family pointing a gun at you?

"Listen, I-I can explain," Rafe stammered, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He was scrambling for words, for an excuse, anything that could justify the fact that his own father shot you, and he did nothing to stop it. "Please, just..."

"Why?" You demanded, not caring for whatever justification he was going to pull out of his ass.

Your treasure hunting dream—which was, in fact, not a dream as you'd come to learn. The gold that you and your friends were looking for had to have been the reason that he shot you, but you were still fuzzy on the details.

What exactly were you doing out there, and what had made Ward pull the trigger?

Rafe's eyes darted around the room, avoiding yours as he struggled to come up with an explanation that wouldn't make him look like a heartless monster. "You and your friends... you were getting close to something. Something my father has been searching for for a long time."

"Did you know he was going to kill one of us out there?" You asked pointedly. You found it hard to believe that he had come with his father to stop you all from finding the treasure and not known that Ward had a gun he was planning to use

"I... I didn't know he would go that far," Rafe said, his voice cracking slightly. It was a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it. He had to have had some inkling of what his father was capable of. There was no way that he was as innocent in this as he was pretending to be.

"Get out," you demanded suddenly, a mixture of emotions flooding through you, anger and hurt chief amongst them. The whole situation was making your head hurt. You needed to think, needed to remember more, and you needed to do it alone.

Staring into his eyes and seeing the look of anguish within them was when the memories of you both together had chosen that inopportune moment to surface, your entire relationship flashing through your mind. Your head started to spin at the rush of recollections, none of them the things that you really wanted to remember.

You wanted to know what exactly you were looking for with your friends and how close you'd come to finding it. You wanted to know what exactly had led up to Ward firing a bullet into you. You wanted to know the extent of Rafe's involvement in all of this.

What you didn't want to know of at this particular moment in time was first kisses, first dates, first i love you's. You didn't want to be reminded that the man before you was someone you knew intimately and loved with every fiber of your being.

Your heart began to ache as you looked at him, eyes glazing over with tears at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal that was practically coursing through your veins. You wished you could go back to forgetting him, to not knowing the feeling of his body fitting perfectly against yours and the sweet words he was capable of whispering.

"I'm sorry," Rafe choked out, his voice thick with regret. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted you to get hurt. You have to believe that." He reached out a hand towards you, but stopped short of actually touching you, knowing that you would likely recoil from his touch.

"I said get out!" You practically screamed at him, your own emotions overwhelming you. He didn't know what it was like to feel a stranger in his own mind, and then, to find out that the one person that he could remember—the one person that had managed to break through the protective wall his brain had built around itself—was part of the reason that this was all happening in the first place.

You could practically see his heart shattering at your words and the force behind them. For a moment, you felt a pang of guilt, but you quickly pushed it away.

He wanted to hug you and shake you all at the same time, to urge you to listen to him—not that he had a very compelling story to tell. You couldn't do this. After everything you two had been through, everything he'd done for you. You couldn't let it end like this. But, he knew he couldn't get you to see reason now, not when you were so fragile.

All he wanted to do was protect you. That's all he ever wanted to do, and the urge was stronger now more than ever. It killed him to walk away, but that's what you wanted. You wanted him gone, and you wouldn't let him strong arm you into getting his way, not this time.

You watched him go, a sob painfully racking your body as soon as the door clicked shut. You flinched at the sound of Rafe letting out a frustrated yell in the hallway followed by a crash, and as you sat there, crying alone and feeling empty, you couldn't help but wonder:

How did you end up here?

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @rafecameronswifeyy / @originalgirlnoreplacar / @lovinqbella / @evermorx89 / @willowpains / @madzig / @harrys-housewife

[ms-demeanor]

Hi! You’re in the LA area, right? I hope you and your family are okay.

Unrelatedly, I ran across a thread on Mastodon about Proton Mail, which I think you’ve talked about before, and was curious what you make of it / how credible it is: https://code4lib.social/@inthehands@hachyderm.io/113838748729664639

I'm fine thanks! Worried about some friends but I'm good.

I think that thread is not incorrect, but is also bullshit.

Email protocols do not allow for 100% anonymous communication and never will, when Proton was subpoenaed for user data that ended up with some French climate activists getting prosecuted they were transparent about what was requested and updated their logging rules to store less data. *Starting* from the assumption that protonmail is supposed to be totally secure OR sells itself as totally secure is disingenuous.

The great thing about open source software is that you never have to trust a shithead CEO when they talk about what the software does. I get why people are angry at the CEO (I think the CEO is at least half wrong in that he is claiming that Republicans will challenge monopolies, but he's not wrong about the destructive corporatism of the Democratic party even if he is *in essence* wrong about which party is more likely to gesture in the direction of breaking up tech monopolies) but A) the thread says that proton's software is "opaque" and it just. Literally is not. and B) that thread links to another thread talking about how what proton is selling is trust and nope. They don't have to sell trust; you can see what their software does if you choose to investigate it, there's no need for trust when you can verify. What they're selling is transparency and from where i'm standing they are indeed quite transparent.

God. Imagine thinking that a zero trust service is selling trust.

So I think the argument that "protonmail actually isn't as secure as it claims" is bullshit that people bring up whenever they're mad at the company (whether they have legitimate reasons to be mad at the company or not).

For the record: you should never, ever, EVER treat email as a secret. Nothing you do over email is really secret because *the rules that allow email to function as a service* require at least some very sensitive information to be an open part of the protocol.

The Proton page on end to end encryption is *very* clear that it is the contents of your email messages that are encrypted, not your email as a whole, and in the image they use to illustrate this the parts of your email that *cannot* be made private (sender, recipient, subject line, time sent) are shown unencrypted:

They're not subtle about letting people know this. Nor are they quiet about the fact that replies to encrypted emails are not encrypted by default.

So the thread is *technically* correct in that all the security "holes" described reflect reality, but it's correct like saying "McDonald's says that you can eat their food for every meal and you'll put on ten pounds of muscle but ACTUALLY putting on ten pounds of muscle requires a huge amount of dedication and a very careful diet and a lot of resistance exercise" - like, I guess yeah that's what you have to do to put on ten pounds of muscle but where exactly was McDonald's making that claim? Did they actually make that claim or are general statements like "I'm Lovin' It" being misinterpreted in bad faith by people on the internet who are mad at something a CEO did?

So. Like. Yeah the CEO is being a shithead, the social media team made a pretty bad fuckup by doubling down on his shitheadery, the product still works as described, AND the thread discussing all of that is deeply annoying.

So.

I think this thread actually does a great job of explaining why I've never seen a "hackers for social justice" group that has lasted. This reminds me a LOT of when someone tried to say that you shouldn't use firefox because the former CEO was a homophobe. There are a lot of deeply shitty people who have made important contributions to our tech ecosystem and if we threw the baby out with the bathwater every time Notch from Minecraft ended up being Notch from minecraft you'd lock yourself out of a lot of really important tools. And this isn't the same as "buying harry potter merch funds transphobia" because it literally doesn't; especially with open source tools you can continue using the software and cheerfully hate the CEO because A) fuck that guy and B) what the fuck are you going to do about it, guy, this shit's encrypted.

I don't want to get too deeply into a discussion about what is or is not cancel culture, but what I'm seeing in that thread (and what I see coming up every time someone brings up the "But the French Climate Activists!" thing) is an attempt to prioritize political alignment over real-world utility. It's attempting to cancel a *genuinely useful tool* because someone involved in the development is an asshole.

By all means, don't give protonmail money if the CEO's trump-positive comments make you feel unsafe.

However: What service are you going to use that is as accessible and as secure to ensure that you actually *are* safe? There are alternatives out there. Do they actually do more than proton? Are they easier to use? Are they open source? One of the responses to that thread was "yeah, that dude seems shitty; i'd switch to another service if there was another one that I felt was as secure" and that's pretty much what I think the correct attitude is. (If you really, really still want to switch, Tuta has been the broadly recommended alternative to protonmail for years but at this point Proton has a suite of services that some users would need to replace, not just email)

IDK i think shit like this contributes to a lot of the bad kind of security nihilism where people are like "oh no, things will never be secure and even my scrappy little open source product is headed by an asshole, i may as well use google because everything sucks" when they should have the good kind of nihilism which is like "man, there are a lot of assholes out there and they're never going to stop being assholes; i'd better take proactive steps to act like the people who make tech stuff are assholes and operate from a better base of security at the start"

so the takeaways are:

Proton never claimed that anything but the message contents of your e2e encrypted messages are encrypted; as far as these things go, they do a pretty good job of being both secure and easy to use compared to other offerings.

Yeah the CEO is being kind of a shithead and I'm not a huge fan of that.

If you think the CEO is being a shithead and don't want to give the company your money, don't pay for their services, but the CEO being a shithead doesn't actually mean you can't trust their services; their services are literally built on zero trust, if the CEO literally wanted to hunt you down personally he wouldn't be any more able to decrypt your emails than he was before and he wouldn't be any more likely to respond to a subpoena than he was before (proton does respond to subpoenas when required but not otherwise; they've been compelled to produce more data in the last decade than before because law enforcement finally realized who they needed to yell at - one of the bigger issues here is the Swiss courts being more willing to grant subpoenas to international complainants than they were before)

The reason we don't go see hogwarts movies is because doing so gives JK money and that does actual real world harm; using firefox does not have an impact on Brendan Eich's ability to materially change the world. It is very weird that we're in a place where we're treating *open source encryption software that is simple enough for your grandma to use it* as though it is Orson Scott Card.

Sorry i'm still stuck on people thinking that proton, famously open source, is opaque, and that an encryption service with zero trust architecture is selling trust.

Anyway if you've ever got questions about security/privacy/whatever services privacyguides.org is a very reliable source.

OH I FIGURED OUT WHAT WAS BUGGING ME

There are a bunch of people discussing this talking about how the CEO's social media is what has made them feel unsafe and I'm going to be a dick here and say that facts don't care about your feelings.

The CEO saying stupid shit doesn't actually make you unsafe in a situation like this; if the CEO was a violent transphobe or aggressive racist or horribly misogynist that wouldn't actually make any of the users of the product less safe. That's why the SJ hacker stuff I've seen hasn't had much staying power; I think that groups that focus on making people feel included and welcome and safe to be themself within the group run into really big problems when there's a conflict between people in the group FEELING unsafe because of (genuinely important in many ways) cultural signifiers like political alignment and so in order to accommodate that feeling they end up doing things (like some kinds of collaboration/accountability practices, abandoning useful tools, WAY too much personal transparency and radical vulnerability for people who are doing crime shit) that ACTUALLY make them less safe.

The CEO being a shithead may make you feel bad, but moving to a less secure platform may actually be dangerous. One of these things can have a big impact on your life, and it is not the one that is happening on twitter.

Anyway. Email is inherently insecure and if you want a secure messaging tool use Signal.

If you are doing crime shit don't talk about it on the internet and DEFINITELY don't talk about it in any kind of unencrypted platform.

If you are a French climate activist who would like to not get arrested if Tuta gets a subpoena for data, use the email service in concert with tor and be cautious about senders/receivers and subject lines.

[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

____________________________________________

Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[creatingblackcharacters]

I was talking about a fictional character I really like with another friend of mine. I mentioned that I headcanoned her as a trans woman, and he said that it was insensitive because it was implying that one of the only Black woman in the franchise was more masculine than the other characters.

I felt awful about that, but also pretty confused. I genuinely thought it fit well with how the story explores her cultural and racial identity. At the same time, after reading your lessons, I can definitely understand what he was worried about. She’s significantly more feminine than other characters (even being oversexualized by the writers in the past), but I’m worried that I may have subconsciously perpetuated the “masculine Black woman” stereotype. I’d appreciate any advice you may have, or ways to check for internal biases!

Now I wouldn't call myself an expert here, but that statement that friend made in and of itself feels transphobic to begin with. Like, why was that the first thing he went to, that "oh so you see her as manly" no I see her as a trans woman. Which is a woman.

So no, I wouldn't say headcanoning her as trans is inherently an issue, no. What I will ask you, how do YOU feel about Black womanhood? You said it fits her story well; why? Because I mentioned in that lesson about Black gender and sexuality that there is some overlap! What you might think "oh that's perfect for trans allegory" might very well also fit because of her Blackness.

Imma also leave this here for my Black trans friends!

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hi, hope you have a good year. Can i request for a whitebeard piratesx child,f!reader ff. So this is what if when the whitebeard found her when her parenst abounded her, she didnt do those bratty things or childish,things. Instead she becomes more stotic (emtionless if you want). So how would the whitebeard pirates help her?

Thanks

Abandoned Treasure (Whitebeard pirates x f!child!Reader)

A/N Okay guys listen, listennn After I got sick I had to catch up with homework and packing and moving so I left you guys again 😭 I ‘m sorry. This is kind pf a flop I don’t know if I like it but but I am cooking another piece as we speak with characters I’ve never written before 🤭

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Pops, I’m worried about her. It’s been a few months already, and the most she has done is get up to walk away from us,” Thatch piped up after bringing his lunch to the Captain.

Whitebeard sighed, looking at the young girl still sitting on the ship’s bow, not shying away from the scorching sun that had been penetrating her skin for days.

He had found the girl on a small island they had passed on the way to their next destination. The island itself, if one could call it that, was but a patch of sand, a small mountain protruding from the vast ocean. He could only assume that she was abandoned there, seeing as she had no signs of wear you would expect from one at the mercy of the sea and its waves. After being brought on the Moby, she simply remained in the bow, her stare never straying away from the direction in which she was found.

Even as the storm hit the boat, she did not waver, having to be forcefully brought inside lest the waves took her away. Relieving herself and taking a few spoonfuls of food every few days was the only reason she would deviate from her scouting, waiting for what he guessed was her family to return. Any attempt the crew made to interact with her was promptly shut down as his sons simply found themselves making empty conversations with someone who would never answer; extended attempts at conversation or trying to get words out of her would only end in her walking away, placing herself in a different post and resuming her search.

“Marco,” he rumbled, glancing down at first mate, who let out a quiet hum in acknowledgment of the call as he continued to browse his father’s latest changes in health.

“How is she?”

This gets the Doctor’s attention as he moves from the papers in his hands to the girl sitting at the ship’s bow.

“Thatch, when did she eat last?”

“Ah, the last time I noticed something missing from the food I brought her was a week ago; it was less than a bite, though.”

Marco takes a minute to get the information and take in the child’s current state.

“If she keeps this up, she won’t make it another month; her body is barely hanging on as it is from the starvation, dehydration, and sun poisoning she has been taking. I would be surprised if she made it that long.”

“We have given her enough space and time; it’s time we talk whether she wants to or not,” he states, slowly standing up.

Dokucha is quick to notice the overwhelming presence of the Captain behind her.

“You have to stop, brat”

A single glance from the young girl was all the man got in response to his statement before she stood up to change her position, only to be stopped by Thatch.

“Sorry, not this time, sweets.”

She glared up at him at his words, ignoring the way he winced.

“Geez, ray of sunshine aren’tcha”

“Move.”

“you’re bossy for someone who Is stowing away in our ship,” Marco stated.

“I didn’t ask to be a stowaway; my parents are coming back.”

“No.”

“They are,” she voiced, looking up at the huge man.

“They aren’t coming; your parents are not coming back.”

“You are wrong.”

“I’m sorry; it has been over a month since your parents left you behind,” Izou stated, stepping closer to the girl.

“They didn’t.”

“Then why haven’t they come back?”

“They are restocking supplies; that’s why they are taking so long,” she reasoned, glaring at the gun user.

“Sweets...” Thatch trailed off, a frown on his face at her stubbornness

“You are all liars. I won’t fall for your lies; my parents are coming back.”

Whitebeard closes his eyes, sighing; they are unlikely to get anywhere with the way it was going. He has many sons, and none were free from pain and anguish. They often turned to denial to ground themselves from people’s cruelty, so he has become adept at reaching such people.

“Leave us,” he ordered, opening his eyes.

“Pops?

“Go to your posts.”

“Aye, aye, Sir”

Dokucha watched the commanders slowly retire from the bow, some lingering for a while longer until they finally gave in to their Captain’s orders and left the two alone.

Dokucha said nothing as she simply sat back down in her original spot, ignoring the presence of the yonko

“You already know they are not coming back,” he rumbled, looking down at her small figure.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“What are you talking about, you old man?”

“You’re parents abandoned you because they are a bunch of bastards who can’t take responsibility. It’s not because there is something wrong with you.” He stated, raising a brow when she did not respond

“They are coming back,” she finally stated, continuing her words before Whitebeard had a chance to tell her off.

“I was good; I helped them find the best treasure. I had a hard time finding some for a while, but I’m really good at it, so they will come back,” she stated, a crack to her otherwise emotionless facade beginning to shine through.

“I’m useful, so they will come back. They have to,” she muttered, her voice filling with emotions the more she went on in her tangent.

“They won’t.”

“No..No, I can find the treasure, so you just need to find them again so I can tell them,” she replied, rubbing her eyes.

He frowned, kneeling down and taking hold of the girl.

“That’s enough.”

“No, I c-

“Enough,” he repeated louder.

“If your parents loved you only when you found treasure for them, then they only loved the treasure you found for them.”

“I don’t care! They praised me if I found treasure, which made me happy; they loved me if I found treasure, and that made me happy,” she cried.

“Let me go! Let me go!” she hollered, struggling against his half.

“Stop that,” he growled.

“Did she fall asleep?” Ace asked, approaching the two hours later

“Damn brat was screaming and crying for two hours before she finally gave in to exhaustion,” WHitebeard grumbled.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Whitebeard glanced at his youngest son, stopping for a minute to think.

“It will be a while before she is okay; just like all of you, she has to deal with her trauma slowly. Just hope she’s not like you and goes on assassination attempts.”

“Come on, Pops, stop bringing it up; it’s embarrassing,” the young man replied with a frown, this one only growing as his father just let out a massive laugh.

Okay I ‘ll give you a hint, this one is really general, maybe if you ask I can give another hint but they are marines, technically I have given you two hints, I have never written them before and they are marines any guesses?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[formulakracing]

x. bringing the heat in miami - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, lewd humor, age gap relationship, ANGST, naughty text messages, banter, light flirting, toto being down astronomically bad (like actually in the trenches) yadayadayada

prev. | next.

party in the city where the heat is on 

all night, on the beach till the break of dawn

“welcome to miami”

“bienvenidos a miami"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

will smith’s infamous track fills your ears as you stroll in through the main gate of the track, fans clustered in thick waves. your name is called more times than you can count. posters, caps, shirts, you name it, wave about, begging to be signed. 

the sun shines overhead, casting bright, fiery light all around. although it was only around eight in the morning, humidity clung to the air, creating a sticky, dewy sensation on your exposed skin. fluffy clouds drift along, carried by a breeze as it rolls through. 

god, the weather was perfect.

hopefully it would be like this on race day.

“welcome to miamiiii,” alex bobs his head, singing along to the music, “are you excited? it is your home turf, after all.”

“if we were in phoenix, i think i would feel a little closer to home,” you suppress a giggle, “but yes, i am really fucking excited. everyone loves a race in their home country.”

“we’ll be in austin soon enough in october,,” alex shrugs, “when we’re in austin, i need you to show me how to ride a bull and teach me how to perfect that smooth texas drawl. i want to be like one of those little aunties who always say, ‘y’all come back now!’ like dolly parton! ” 

“you’re ridiculous,” the giggles blossom into a full-on laugh, “you don’t just start speaking with a southern accent. that’s not how that works.”

“sure it is,” alex nods, “hey, your parents are coming out for the race, right?”

“yes sir! they will finally get to see their baby girl in action!”

“they didn’t come out for a single grand prix last year?” alex raises a brow.

“i wasn’t winning races last year,” you counter, “i told them not to worry about spending that money during my rookie year. not everyone’s parents are loaded, you know.”

which, was a true statement. 

your parents had invested their time, hard-earned cash, weekends off, and a portion of their lives to get you here. you didn’t expect them to fly out for every single grand prix, make every event, or pay another dime towards your expenses. 

unlike many of the drivers, you were not born into an extremely lavish lifestyle. your parents were modest people, who happened to have a child later in life. ever since you were born, they lived in the same house, drove the same vehicles, and got by adequately. since they both worked full-time, getting you into the racing world was no simple feat. 

yet, they were determined to make your dreams become a reality. after years of careful coordination to the karting tracks, weekends devoted to races, and thousands upon thousands of dollars spent, you were offered a contract with williams racing. of course, you accepted that offer graciously. 

now, you were steadily paying your parents back for their dedication. once you signed your contract and those zeroes hit your bank account, you went out to the nearest dealership, purchasing a suburu wrx. with the premium package, at that. 

you would never forget your dad’s face the moment you pulled into the driveway, beaming as you placed the keys in his hand. 

that was one of the only moments you had ever watched him cry, wrapping you up in a tight, loving embrace.

“you didn’t have to do this. being your father is a gift in itself.”

“but you deserve it. you’ve sacrificed so much so that i could be in this position.”

“and you deserve nothing but the best, baby girl. you are going to be one of the greatest drivers formula one has ever seen. you make us so proud. keep making us proud. keep defying those odds. keep making history, baby girl.”

keep making history, baby girl.

as you stroll into the paddock, greeting the engineers, pit crew, and other team members, you can’t shake that feeling brewing deep within. 

it’s is a fiery desire, setting you ablaze with determination. 

you were going to keep making history. 

you were going to be the first american to win the miami grand prix. 

you were going to be the first woman to win two consecutive grand prixes. 

you were going to be the first woman to earn that title of world champion. 

you were going to chase that high. by any means possible. 

and nothing was going to stop you now. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“look at him,” lewis hamilton shakes his head, “he looks absolutely pitiful.”

“you think his little relationship is on the rocks?” 

“quite the contrary mate,” lewis remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i think it’s more like the poor man is depraved. obviously the euphoria has worn off. he’s come down from that high. the man is craving more. plain and simple. a hand can only do–”

“i don’t need the mental image of my team principal wanking off,” george russell scoffs, rubbing his temple, “fuck, that is disgusting, lewis.”

toto wolff stood a few meters away from the drivers, engaged in deep conversation with bono and members of the crew. now that lewis knew the truth, he couldn’t help but notice how much power that american girl held over the team principal. it was almost as if he were deep in a trance, under some sort of spell. 

it was pitiful, really. just the sight of her was enough to send the team principal spiraling, intoxicated off her alluring aura. not like lewis could blame toto, though. there was no denying that the woman was extremely breathtaking. 

with her stunning features, witty mouth, unapologetic personality, and angelic presence, she was practically miss america.

well, not practically. 

she was miss america.  

everyone adored her. lewis could barely go throughout his morning without hearing her name being mentioned. whether it was fans, journalists, social media, even members of the mercedes crew, she was the hot topic of formula one, taking the world by storm.

toto was a lucky man. an extremely lucky man. 

if only she was into men her age. 

“my apologies mate,” lewis nudges george with his elbow playfully, “did we have anything going on today? any obligations?”

george’s brow furrow, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, “if we’re being honest, i can’t really remember. i think something to do with monster energy, maybe.”

“perfect,” lewis licks his lower lip, fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

time to text that little assistant. 

in all seriousness, he felt horrible for taking advantage of that young girl. she was only nineteen for fuck’s sakes, a fresh face to mercedes at the start of the 2024 season. that made her the perfect target to do his bidding. 

well, it wasn’t really bidding. 

more like investigative journalism. 

at least, that’s what lewis told himself to feel a little less guilty for what he was about to do. 

hey, do you by chance know toto’s schedule today?

seconds later, little text bubbles appear. 

he was meeting with you guys this morning, then he has an interview with the press around two-thirty p.m. it’s nothing super serious, just a brief session entailing his thoughts for the weekend. at four, he has a zoom call with a few of the mercedes execs. after that, he told me he was going to be out for the remainder of the evening. why? 

hmmm. how convenient. 

i was just curious. thanks for letting me know! i appreciate you, natila. 

of course, mr. hamilton! let me know if you need anything else! :))) 

it was now or never. go time.

after the meeting with the mercedes executives, lewis hamilton was going to knock on toto wolff’s door. he was going to stroll into that office, settling into one of those plush leather chairs. and before toto had the opportunity to speak, lewis was going to confront him about that american girl. 

how he was going to start that conversation, he had no idea. that would come to him in time as he went about his day, meeting with sponsors, flashing that lovely lewis smile, flirting with the reporters just a little. not too much so that it was obvious, but enough to make them blush a tad, giggling as they scrambled to stick to their script. 

but for now, it was time to focus on the matters at hand. 

across the track, a dutch driver strolls through the crowds, a jersey in one hand, phone in the other. glancing down at his screen, he curses under his breath at the throng of people. why were there so many people? where did they all come from? 

pausing for a moment, he taps his screen, thumb gliding through his contacts. 

“hey, where are you again?”

“we’re in the williams paddock!” her voice is an octave higher than usual, more than likely from anticipation, “we’ll see you soon!”

“sounds good,” max verstappen stifles a chuckle as he hears a voice on the other end, the words firm, demanding almost.  

“honey, who are you talking to? who’s coming over here?” 

“mom, please, just let me be on the phone for two seconds,” she exhales, “okay, i have to go. i’ll see you soon!” 

the walk to the williams paddock was excruciating, as max had to bob and weave through the masses to avoid reporters, potential sponsors, and any individual who called his name. it’s not like he didn’t like the fame that came with his success, it’s just that he didn’t like the constant cameras in his face. the prying questions. the intrusive comments. 

sometimes he wished he could just blend in, be like any other face in the crowd. yet, how could he when he was max verstappen? 

yet, as he steps into the paddock, he makes out the williams driver, her parents hovering around her as she introduces them to various members of the crew. at the sight, max can’t help but feel the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he notices the sheer and utter pride plastered across their faces. 

and they had every right to be proud of you. 

you earned it. 

“goedemorgen,” max clears his throat, raising his hand for a small wave, “i just came to stop by.”

the instant your mom realizes who is standing before her in the paddock, her eyes widen, lips parting, “oh my gosh – honey. look who it is!” 

“good morning max,” your laughter rings like bells as you cross over to the dutch driver, “how are you?”

“pretty good,” he nods, sticking out his right hand, “hallo, i’m max.”

your dad shakes his hand, squeezing it firmly, “nice to meet ya, max. i’m tony. this is my wife, heather.”

“pleased to meet you,” max beams, turning to your mom, “i brought something for you today. your daughter mentioned that you were a big fan of mine. so, i brought this jersey for you. she let me know your shirt size, so it should fit perfectly. my signature is on there somewhere, but i just can’t quite remember where.”

graciously, heather accepts the jersey, her eyes glossy, shifting to you as she wipes a tear, “oh, honey, you planned this?”

“of course i did,” wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you pull her in for a hug, “i couldn’t bear the thought of you guys attending the race without meeting any of my friends. besides, you deserve an all-inclusive experience at your first grand prix.”

“besides,” max shoots you a wink, “i wanted to meet the woman who crafted such a talented driver.”

at max’s compliment, your mom’s face flushes, “oh please! i can barely make it on the freeway without having a nervous breakdown. i don’t know how she can drive these things. it amazes me how confident she is and–.”

“i could show you,” max offers, “i have some free time tomorrow. i’m sure we could all meet up somewhere and i could take you for a spin, show you the ropes. how does that sound?”

“oh max,” your mom waves a hand, “you do not–”

“but i want to. it’s no issue. no issue at all.” 

“then it’s a plan,” you can’t help but grin as your moms’ eyes light up, “what time works for you, max? since it’s only thursday, we’ll have some time in the morning before the practice laps. or, we could go after. whatever works for you.”

“let’s go in the morning,” max suggests, checking his phone, “i think i can make a few calls. have someone bring in a car. we’ll take it out on the track.”

“is that allowed?” your mom arches a brow, “i just don’t want you two to get in any sort of trouble. 

“oh mom,” you roll your eyes playfully, gesturing to max, “that is max verstappen. whatever max verstappen wants, max verstappen gets.”

“she’s not wrong.”

“okay fine,” your mom nods, and you feel a giggle forming at her overprotective nature. 

“just don’t give me a heart attack out there, max. i have a very important race to watch on sunday.”

as your parents talk to max, alex making his way into the conversation, you feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket. carefully, you fish it out, ensuring to shield your screen from your mom’s wandering gaze. 

this is unbearable. i need to see you tonight. are you going to have any free time? i vaguely recall you mentioning that your parents were going to be here. i will take no offense if you would like to spend time with them. i know you do not get to see them often. 

i need to be inside you, schatzi. i can’t think straight right now because the only thing i can think about is fucking that perfect pussy of yours. 

i miss my golden girl. more than anything. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“lewis? this is a pleasant surprise.”

“how’s it going mate?” lewis hamilton bears a quaint smile as he settles into a chair, face-to-face with the team principal, “things going well?”

“eh,” toto shrugs, his head bowed as he types away on his phone, “same old shit, you know.” 

“things going well with the horseback rider?”

oh, so he wasn’t going to drop it. silently, toto curses the attentive nature of his british driver, “they’re fine.”

“so,” lewis leans back, folding his arms across his chest, “when were you going to fess up and admit that your little girlfriend doesn’t ride horses?”

“i don’t understand what you–”

lewis scoffs, clicking his tongue, “i know exactly who your little girlfriend is because she’s a few spaces ahead of me on the grid.”

shit.

the expression painting lewis’ features is brimmed with satisfaction, his gaze piercing right through the team principal as he shifts uneasily in his desk chair, running a hand through his hair. 

toto was well aware that lewis had completely blindsided him, pinning him in a corner. it was quite literally perfect timing, as the team principal was merely minutes away from organizing his things, shutting down his computer, and heading out the door, well on his way to his golden girl. 

well played, lewis. well played. 

yet, he had to maintain his composure. he had to maintain that poker face as lewis cocks his head, prompting him to formulate some sort of witty retort. 

“i’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“bullshit,” lewis shakes his head, “you’re not a very good liar, toto. you of all people should know that i can read you like a bloody book. how long has this been going on?”

well, he had to fess up now. lewis would continue to call him out on his shit if he kept up with the lies. letting out a shaky breath, the team principal hangs his head in defeat, his heart thumping against his rib-cage, wiping his damp palms on his slacks.

no going back now. time to come clean. 

“since she won in jeddah. but if we’re being technical, it started in bahrain.”

“wait,” lewis sticks his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut, “pause. this has been going on since the start of the season? for weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting up with her in secret or something? was she the one who came to brackley between melbourne and suzuka?”

with all of the questions pouring from lewis’ mouth, toto’s mind reeled, a swirling torrent of anxiety, fear, and disappointment. his cheeks burn with shame, tinged pink. 

“yes, she was.”

tilting his head, lewis’ lips purse, “you like her?”

“well isn’t that blatantly fucking obvious,” propping his elbows on the desk, he massages his temples with his fingers, “how did you find out?”

“it wasn’t hard,” lewis shrugs, “i mean, i see the way you look at her.” 

toto’s eyes narrow at lewis’ vague response, “how. did. you. find. out?”

“natila texted me about it,” lewis coughs, averting the team principal’s beady stare, “she may have heard a conversation or two.” 

“regarding?” toto presses, satisfaction pumping in his veins as lewis starts to crack, shifting in the chair, “come on, lewis. you can’t just march in here and demand answers from me without sharing your sources. what did natila hear?”

“she heard the entire conversation you had with the drive to survive crew while we were in suzuka. they mentioned that they had footage of you walking over to her motorhome. that’s all natila heard. don’t fire the poor girl,” the words were rushed, breathy, “it was my fault. i asked her what she heard. i told her i would pay her if she told me what she knew.”

“well,” toto blinks, swallowing thickly, “did you end up paying her?”

“only like five thousand.”

“that’s quite a large sum over something you could have just asked me about personally,” clasping his hands together, toto raises a brow, “why didn’t you just come to me instead?”

“because you got so fucking defensive the first time i asked about it!” 

lewis did have a point. 

a good point, at that.

it was not like the team principal would have withheld information regarding his developing relationship with the williams driver. it was more like he feared what would ensue if he did share what had transpired. he trusted lewis, he really did. additionally, it wasn’t like this was just some average woman. his career, her future, and so much more were at stake. the benefits of keeping it all under wraps greatly outweighed the risk of discovery. 

more importantly, he was protective of his golden girl. 

she was his little escape from it all. a breath of fresh air after excruciatingly long nights in the paddock or disappointing days on the track. she was his sun, shining her vivid, warm, golden rays into his dreary and dull life. 

sure, toto was a billionaire. but money was not everything. 

nearly every day, toto’s mind wandered to their time spent together in brackley. the way she felt against his skin. the way her shy smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. the way her fingers felt intertwined with his. the way her lashes fluttered as she slept, lips parted ever so slightly. the way his hands roamed her curves, relishing the softness of her. 

that memory alone was worth far more than the number of zeroes in his bank account. 

“you’re falling in love, aren’t you?”

lewis’ voice is low, dangerously quiet. yet, there’s a curious glint in his eyes, the bitterness and anger no longer present. his body language is more relaxed, legs crossed, the driver fiddling with his thumbs. 

“i –” toto stutters, scrambling to find the right words, “yes, i am.”

“does she know?” 

“no,” he inhales sharply, “she doesn’t.”

“you want to tell her though, don’t you?”

“it would just feel rushed,” the team principal dismisses lewis’ inquiry, his voice hardening, “i have to be realistic here. no one falls in love that quickly. that’s just petulant.”

“well look at it this way,” lewis offers, “if you’ve had your eye on her for some time, then it’s really not that rushed. clearly, if you’re feeling those emotions so deeply, then it’s accumulated over time. i don’t want to pry, but how long have you been attracted to her?”

“you don’t want to know,” a chuckle rumbles in the team principal’s chest, “it’s embarrassing, really.”

“no, no, no,” lewis tuts, “tell me, toto. how long?”

“december 2022, when she signed her contract with williams. when i saw that photo of her, i knew i had to have her. last summer, in monaco, i may have slipped up and approached her at the afterparty. i flirted with her, but she dismissed me. so, i kept my distance. however, it was just growing harder and harder to stay away. it was impulsive, that night in bahrain. but i wanted to make a move before anyone else got to her.”

as toto finishes, he can’t help but notice lewis’ smirk, “holy shit, toto. you’ve been wrapped around her finger for quite some time then, yeah?”

“i wouldn’t say that–” toto begins, clicking his tongue, yet, he’s swiftly cut off as a new figure cracks open the door. 

george russell leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. his lips are pressed together, forming a tightly wound frown. 

“way to include me in the gossip session, guys. what did i miss? clearly, quite a lot. if you don’t mind, i would like to join the conversation. toto, would you start from the top? even though i’ve already heard most of it, when were you going to bring it to my attention that you were fucking that bloody williams driver?”

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taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic

as always, if i forgot to include you, please let me know! thank you all for the continuous support! i love y'all sm!! <33

[saintsugu]

PLAY TIME; KINKTOBER DAY 5

rating: mature; mdni

pairing; yuuji itadori / ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

content warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+, apocalypse au, vague horror (aka it’s kind of creepy), vaginal penetration, all of the explicit sex is with sukuna, manhandling, true-form sukuna, monster fucking (two cocks // four arms), non con, sadomasochism, slight dacryphilia, dvp, usage of pet, bellybulge, unprotected sex, cumflation, alluding to cucking

Author’s note: super unedited. i’m really proud of this fic + the idea as a whole, but i’m really proud of the fact that I got the last 2/3k done in about 1.5 hrs. please enjoy the last piece of 2023’s Kinktober!<3

Today, the forest is ominously quiet—even more so than usual. Dead leaves crunch underneath your boot with every step and it makes your skin crawl; not to mention how freezing cold it is. How did you even end up out here alone to begin with? 

Letting out a shaky breath, which is painfully visible, you try to tug your sleeves down to cover your numb hands. As you’re in the process of doing so, the frightening noise of a twig snapping has your hand instead finding your knife on instinct. 

It could be an animal, but it’s not likely. Given the time of year, most are hibernating, and those that aren’t have already been skinned and cooked. 

You turn around yet are met with nothing except the forest from which you came. With the trees being as crowded together as they are, it’s easy for someone to hide, so your guard isn’t exactly down just yet. 

After many excruciating minutes of silence, a voice speaks and you’re too terrified to realize who it is. Unsheathing your blade, you take a step behind you and are ready to hit whoever may be in front of you. 

“Hey, stop, it’s me!”

Yuuji catches your wrist within moments of impact. Despite his desire to always be gentle with you, the current predicament required a bit of force from his end and you couldn’t help but wince before releasing the knife. The blade clatters against the stones below you and you sigh so loud in relief that you’re sure the entire forest could hear it. 

Your eyes soften and you press your head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was you.” The statement is fairly obvious, yet you still feel the need to clarify that you didn’t mean to try and stab your boyfriend, rather than the stalker you figured he was. 

“Don’t be,” you can feel his hand intertwining with yours and it makes you feel safe. “Let’s go home. I already carved out a path for us, I was just looking for you.”

The trek back to the cabin is short but a bit steep. Yuuji’s holding onto you tightly the entire trip. The grip on your hand aids in making you feel a little more at peace despite the eerie crawl of the woods.  

The cold weather has been well appreciated. Both you and Yuuji find it much easier to layer up and use blankets, rather than deal with turning the generator on fully to keep cool. The way you have it now, you’re able to keep it on for a few hours at a time—just enough for you to shower and do whatever else requires electricity, before shutting it off. There are only a few downsides to the chilling temperatures; one of which, being the fog that occupies the forest. 

It completely limits visibility; that’s nice if you’re holed up in the cabin, but when you’re out scavenging? Horrible. You can’t even see two feet in front of you.  

“Be careful. Step over,” he carefully directs you, quiet as he grips your hand a little tighter. It’s how you know you’ve arrived home. You’re careful to raise your feet and make sure you don’t bump against the fence that Yuuji had staked into the ground. 

The wiring itself isn’t awfully thick, but it keeps most animals away; not to mention that it’s main function is sound purposes. Along the wires, there are different cans and bells that will rattle if the fence is at all bumped or tugged. It’s a good method to keep you and Yuuji up worrying all night. 

It’s so cold. Your words are barely above a  whisper, hands shivering slightly as the cabin comes into view. You can nearly hear the frown in Yuuji’s voice when he tells you that you’re almost there. He’s been very….overprotective of you, to say the least. It’s not like you can blame him, though. The world is scary now. 

“Close it a little softer next time.” You can’t help but teasingly scold your partner as you step into the warm home. 

“But I wanted to shut it before the wind picked up.” It’s cute, the way he snickers at you before moving towards the fireplace. “You should change into something clean while I start the fire.” 

You had planned to already, so you have no issue bouncing towards your shared room to change your clothes. When you return back, Yuuji has busied himself with the fireplace.

Moments like this are nice. Those times, no matter how brief they may be, where you get to watch your boyfriend clumsily set the logs on fire. The simplicity of it all nearly makes you forget the world right outside of your door that has gone to hell. 

It’s just you and the boy occupying the cabin. At different points, people have come and gone, but it’s been a long time since you’ve met eyes with anyone other than Yuuji. A man by the name Megumi stayed with you for a bit, nearly six months, actually, before taking his leave in search of his father. The rest, you’ve long forgotten their names. It’s quite…sad, actually. You spend a lot of nights wondering about their whereabouts. 

“You like what you see?” He teases. His palms are pressed against the floor behind him, lanky limbs spread out a bit as he uses his locked out arms to hold him up. 

“Oh always,” you nearly giggle. He never fails at finding a way to cheer you up. 

Eventually, he stands up to help you make some food. It’s nothing special, really. You just boil rice over the fire and cook it with some canned chicken that Yuuji managed to find on a run last week. 

Food has been getting harder to manage as of late. Thankfully, when this started, there was already a large pantry full of non-perishable food inside the cabin. Even with that being said, it’s been years and supplies are depleting rapidly. Between the two of you, you surprisingly don’t eat much, so it’s easier to ration better, but with less than half of the supplies left, you can’t help but worry. 

“It’s good,” he says, taking a bite. He’s leaned against the wall across from you—you’re both still keeping warm near the fireplace. 

If it weren’t for the bitter temperatures, you would’ve probably sat at the large, oak table in the dining room— a table that’s much too big for only the two of you —but with the crisp and cold air, you opted to eat on the floor in favor of the warmth. 

It’s sweet but it makes you laugh a little. He always tries to make you feel better, no matter what the topic at hand is; he’s like a man consoling his wife. “If it wasn’t, I’d be worried. Takes a lot of work to fuck up rice and chicken,” you say playfully. 

“Better than I could do.” His laughter is contagious. It fills the air the same as it fills your lungs. The pure joy you feel when hearing it, spreads through your entire being as your lips curl into a smile of their own. “I’m serious!” He grins even wider. “Gramps used to make all my meals for the most part.”

“‘Dunno how you got this far like that.” You’re laying on your stomach while you tease him. Your body is nearly perpendicular with the wall, but the side of your head rests against a pillow. Having already finished your meal, you have nothing better to do than shamelessly stare at your lover. 

The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the boy’s voice and fills the room. It all feels so cozy that it makes you forget what awaits you outside of that small wire fence. He makes it easy to forget—or to ignore, for better lack of words. 

When you’re staring into his eyes, it’s easy to pretend like you’re unaware of the storm raging outside. As if you don’t know the world is burning the same way the shriveled firewood has. 

Once he finishes his bowl, you find it as a perfect chance to straddle his lap. With your legs spread, your knees press into the plush carpeting. The moment can only be described as intimate as your foreheads touch. 

“I love you.” It’s a quiet affirmation that you both repeat at the same time. The repetition causes you both to laugh, before he silences you with a soft kiss. “My girl,” he whispers. 

Slow kisses begin to get more desperate as his hands roam your body. He’s in nothing more than a black tank top, and a pair of thin pajama pants that are too baggy for him. It gives you easy access as you kiss his neck, uncaring of how you do so; it’s not like anyone will see. 

For the rest of the night, Yuji conveys just how much he loves you. Your time spent together consists of limbs messily intertwining as he has his way with you on the floor. Despite having full control over a willing partner, Yuuji is still so sweet and kind to you. He may accidentally overestimate his strength and manhandle you slightly, but he always tries his hardest to not hurt you in any way. 

He brings you to the edge more times than you would have ever imagined and he’s a bit more…clingy than usual—not that you mind, of course. You just hadn’t realized how scared he had gotten when you got seperated in the forest. He definitely did a good job of hiding it from you. 

After cleaning up and triple-checking that the doors are locked and the windows are still boarded up, you make your way into the bedroom. You feel extremely safe and secure as you lay beside him. An arm draped over your side as he pulls you close into his chest. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. You swear that your name has never sounded sweeter than when it’s dripping off his tongue. 

Thanks to his comforting touch, you’re asleep within minutes. 

— three years ago. 

Run. Keep running. Don’t stop. 

Those words repeat through your head on a loop. They got louder and louder the more you felt your body start to slow. You’re running out of energy. As much as you wish it could, even your sudden burst of adrenaline isn’t enough to combat your starvation and dehydration. 

You feel like you’ve been running for days—like some wild animal that’s being hunted down. Every time you try to take a breath, they’re on your heels again. 

Nearly 3 weeks ago, you had stumbled upon a small group. They offered you food and shelter, in return for manual labor. Due to your starved state, you didn’t think to ask many questions before taking the water they offered you and mindlessly agreeing. 

Unfortunately, what you had hoped to be a new companionship, turned out to be psychopaths trying to force you to kill unsuspecting people. They would track down homes and kill whoever resided in them. You tried to sneak out, but they caught on and were quick to chase after you. 

It’s been over a week of this little chase, and you can barely stand. You’re beginning to wonder if running is even worth it, at this point. 

Despite seeing it, your brain doesn’t fully process the branch in the path until after you’ve tripped over it. You have absolutely no time to recover as you fall straight towards the dirt. 

“Shit,” you curse, feeling thorns poking against you. As you lie on the ground, exhaustion setting in even more so now than before, your inner monologue morphs. 

Get up. 

You’re nearly screaming at yourself. Every part of your body feels heavy. No matter how hard you will yourself to get back on your feet, you’re rendered incapable. 

The approach sound of footsteps confirms that this is the end. Once they find you, they’ll kill you without a second thought. At least I tried. It’s the last thought that runs through your brain as the footsteps get louder and everything goes dark. 

It’s quiet. You like it. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so…at peace. 

“You’re awake.” The voice sounds panicked but…happy? 

You’re quick to shoot up, but you’re surprised when your hands move freely. If they didn’t kill you, you had at least expected them to restrain you somehow. Yet, when you look around the room, it’s so unfamiliar. 

“…who are you? A-are you with them?” You feel weak at the stammer in your voice, but it can’t be helped. Despite his soft features, you’re terrified of the man sitting across from you. 

It’s clear that he’s confused, but you still aren’t convinced. “With who? When I found you, you were unconscious in the dirt.”

That doesn’t make sense. Did they…stop looking for me?

You nearly ask again, but you’d rather not be questioned about why you were running. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it when you were knocked out cold. There’s no reasonable explanation for him to bring you back to his home and do it there. 

“I’m Yuuji,” he says and you can tell that he’s worried he’ll upset you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It didn’t take long for you to warm up to him after that. You truly had nowhere else to go, so you slept in the guest room of his cabin for months, until one day, things took a bit of a…different route. 

“How’d you find this cabin anyways, Yu’?” Your voice is a bit higher than usual as you lean against the plush couch. On his latest supply run, the boy brought back a good amount of alcohol and you both agreed that it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. 

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, words a bit slurred. “It was my Gramps’. Been in the family since before I was born. It was my family’s designated rendezvous place—we all kind of picked it as a joke but,” he pauses. The silence is deafening as you hang on his words. “I was the only one who made it here.”

Your expression drops. Neither of you had attempted to ask about the other’s families in the months you’ve known each other, finding it a bit of a personal topic to bring up at random, but now, considering you’re both tipping over the edge from the alcohol…your filters are a little less engaged. 

“It’s okay, though,” he takes a sip of his beer as he plasters a fake grin onto his face. He pauses, before his face turns sour. Initially, you believe that he’s about to open up, add on to what he said, but you quickly stand corrected when he bolts up and starts to walk— no, run off. 

“Yuuji?” You call after him as he disappears from your view. Due to the drinks, your reaction time is a bit sluggish, so it takes a minute before you’re up and following him. Once you finally follow him into the open bathroom, you find him hunched over the toilet and it suddenly makes sense. 

His beer can is on the floor, its contents pooling around the base of the toilet as Yuuji uses his forearms to keep himself stable. He doesn’t throw up much, mostly just coughing and gagging— Still, the sight brings up a few…unpleasant memories and the sounds alone make a melancholic feeling settle in your chest. 

“Do you want some water?” You offer, but he shakes his head.

“Stay here.” It’s a simple request. His words are slurred, but the look in his droopy eyes tells you he means it. He rests his head against his right forearm, staring directly at you as he tries to regain his strength. 

Eventually, you settle onto the floor a few feet away from him. With your back against the door, you curl your knees up to your chest and just wait for him to feel better. A few minutes pass, neither of you would really be able to count how many, but he finds himself leaning against the bathtub rather than the toilet. 

“’m glad I found you,” he says quietly, voice hoarse from coughing so much. “I was kind of going crazy all by myself. I swore I started hearing things,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. 

It’s so peculiar to you how Yuuji is so…positive. Even now, drunk and hunched over a toilet bowl, he finds it in him to laugh. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you’re happy to— cause that would require admitting that you care about him. 

“What were you doing before all this?” You ask him curiously, trying to change the subject. It’s something you’ve wondered for a long time yet never found a way to bring it up. 

“I was just a college student,” he laughs a bit, the skin of his eyes creasing at the thought. “I delivered pizzas when I could. Did some odd jobs, too. Like…landscaping for my grandpa’s neighbors and shit. What about you?”

“Just bartending,” you nod, thinking back to those simple times. “It was good money.”

The two of you sit and talk like that for a little longer, until Yuuji eventually starts to doze off. As cute as he looks as his eyes flutter shut, you know better than to let him sleep there. “C’mon, let's get you to bed,” you say softly, helping him stand up. 

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, half asleep and still inebriated as he leans against you. You’re practically dragging him towards the bedroom with his arm around your shoulder. “And pretty too. ‘M so happy we found you…”

That night and in that moment, you were too hung up on him calling you pretty to acknowledge the we in his words; or maybe you did notice, but it was subconsciously easier to just…chalk it off as a slip of the tongue. 

—

You’re drenched in sweat as you suddenly wake up, body practically launching away from the bed. You press your palm to your chest, feeling the way your heart is beating at an inhumane rate. 

For the past few weeks, you’ve been having vivid nightmares. Usually, they’re all similar; all having to do with you being taken or something of the sort. Tonight’s dream was a bit different. 

You were in the cabin, but nothing was working. The boards were off the windows, the fireplace wouldn’t light, and the generator wouldn’t work. Thankfully, you woke up before anything bad could truly happen, but waking up was bad in and of itself, considering the bed is empty with Yuuji nowhere to be found.  

“…Baby?” You call out nervously, leaning over to turn your bedside lamp on. You were hoping that he was just in the bathroom, but that hope is quickly squashed when he doesn’t call back. 

With a stuttered sigh, your legs swing over the side of the bed as you prepare to search for your lover.  Shaking hands sift through your drawer, pushing around objects you forgot existed, before landing on a thick flashlight. It illuminates the room, making your eyes widen in a weak attempt to adjust to the light. 

Your footsteps are light and cautious against the creaking wood and it’s a scene straight from a horror movie. Once on the stairs, you can hear something creaking— a door or a window— but when you get in the kitchen, you can’t seem to find anything.

Timid as a mouse, your voice is quiet as you call out for Yuuji. There’s no response, of course not, but as you begin to speak again, you’re very quickly disrupted. 

A thick hand wraps around your face, easily covering your lips and practically suffocating you as his fingertips dig into your cheekbones. Panic bubbles out of your throat, eyes wide with adrenaline, yet as you go to scream, another hand finds its place around your throat. 

“Don’t scream.” A dark and eerily familiar sound pierces your ear. It’s a contorted and dark version of a voice you hear every day. “Or you could, but who’ll find you?” He mocks sadistically. 

Your head is yanked back, nearly giving you whiplash as it makes contact with the man’s chest. You feel as though you’re about to hurl. The panic is presenting itself clear in the form of bile in your throat, and the fear in the form of tears. 

“I’ve sat on the sidelines for too fucking long.”

Another hand begins to tug at your flimsy pajama shorts— wait, another hand…?

Looking down in absolute horror, you’re greeted by a third arm tussling at your clothes. You’re convinced you’re going insane, but it’s so real. At this point, with dead people walking around, nothing should surprise you, but even so, you can’t help the way your eyes widen in horror at the side of multiple sets of arms. 

You’re far too distraught to even register the way the fabric tears at your thigh, completely ripping apart with a flick of his hand. The lump in your throat grows, making your mouth dry as you struggle to speak. 

“W-who are you?” 

The man behind you just laughs— a deeply disturbing sound as it vibrates throughout the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs your waist with one of four hands and begins to drag you; where exactly, you aren’t sure.

Amongst the laughter, he covers your eyes as he manhandles you away. He’s keeping your sight obscured until you can ‘properly see me’, as if it’s some sort of game. It’s terrifying.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you with how roughly he’s shoving you against a hard surface— your table, you soon realize. He maneuvers you as if you’re some kind of doll and gets you laying onto the table before your vision is finally returned. He retracts two out of four hands; keeping them only on your waist and throat. 

Your heart drops when you finally see the man in front of you. It’s Yuuji— your Yuuji, but his body is deformed. He’s much taller and stockier for starters. He’s missing the lean figure that you’ve grown to adore. Instead, he’s towering over you ever more, with an extra pair of arms sprouting from his midsection. One of the most disturbing parts, though, are the second and third eyes. They’re placed directly under his regular eyes, but they’re half the size. It makes you want to throw up. 

“What? You don’t like seeing your baby Yuuji?” he imitates you with a sadistic grin.

You’re shuddering in fear, throat constricted just enough to let you speak. “You are not my Y-Yuuji,” you stammer, shaking like a goddamn leaf. 

He just laughs, tugging at your panties. Even with you desperately squeezing your thighs together, he rips them apart with ease. “You’re right, I’m not. Yuuji couldn’t fuck you properly even if someone was telling him how.”

What is he talking about? Who is this?

“And trust me, I tried,” he says, like he’s exasperated as he rips your panties off. “Every time I talk to him, he just ignores me. Little brat.” He’s muttering to himself as thick hands pry your legs apart.

“Please, don’t,” your voice shakes, resorting to your seemingly last option of begging whoever this imposter is. “I-I’ll give you anything else just don’t…” you can’t even speak it out loud. You know what he wants to do to you— what he’s about to do. 

Your pleading is met with a loud, and mocking laugh. “You look so cute like that; all helpless and crying. You humans have always looked best like that.” It makes sense. You would’ve never described him as human. You don’t know where he’s going with this tangent, but his voice soon drops an octave and answers your question. 

“Do you really think I’m gonna pass up the chance to get what I’ve been craving for so long? Why, because of a few tears?” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until then, but now that you know, the dams are releasing. 

“W-who are you?” Sure, he’s claimed to be Yuuji, but it’s clear that you aren’t falling for that. His eyes zero on your cunt as thick fingers begin to prod at your folds. None of the movements make sense and it’s clearly not for your pleasure. It feels more as if he’s just inspecting it.

It’s been a long time since he’s been let out to play, after all.

“Call me Sukuna, Doll.” His words are eerily dark before he roughly shoves a finger into your cunt. For the most part, you’re fairly dry, but he knows that he can change that; and he knows that it won’t take him long, either. Humans are simple creatures. 

Tears slip out of your eyes faster, only fueling him on even more as he starts to finger fuck you. His fingers are a lot thicker than the slender digits that you’ve gotten used to. It hurts but it also..feels good? You hate even thinking that, but you can’t deny the physical pleasure you’re experiencing despite the mental anguish alongside it. 

“You’re wet,” he obnoxiously observes, uncaring of the way it makes you squirm. “Do my fingers feel that good? Or are you just used to Yuuji treating you like glass?” You don’t respond, instead opting to turn your head away. 

A third finger slips in and you swear that it’s already the equivalent of your boyfriend’s cock. “I always told him that he needed to be rougher. The little brat wouldn’t listen but I knew better; I know that girls like you just want to be treated like whores.”

As the pad of his fingers press into your g-spot, you finally let out a moan. It’s whiney and high pitched and out of fucking nowhere. In all of the times he’s listened in on you and Yuuji having sex— which has been every time — he’s never heard a noise like that leave your lips. It has his ego inflating even further. 

Immediately, you’re trying to bring a hand to your lips, trying so hard to muffle the noises that keep seeping out like a waterfall. Still, it’s no use once Sukuna catches onto what you’re doing. A large hand overpowers your own as he pins it against the hard table. 

“Don’t do that,” he demands, a sick grin on his face. “I want him to hear.” Him? Yuuji can hear?

You’ve been far too scared to put together all of Sukuna’s implications. Too riddled with fear to even think about if Yuuji knew that this demon was living inside of him. Even so, from everything he’s said, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

It doesn’t take much longer for his patience to break. With one hand still buried inside of your cunt, two others are undoing his sweats. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you see next. 

Not only is his cock considerably bigger than Yuuji’s, but there’s two of them. 

With panic spreading through your body, you’re very quickly trying to scramble away. “T-those can’t—“ you’re stammering, body attempting to crawl away from him and up the table. Even with you slipping away, he’s trying to line one of his cocks up. “Those can’t go inside of me. Y-you’re fucking crazy,” you curse, mind reeling just at the thought of him trying to jam just one of those things inside of you. 

“Stay fucking still,” he barks, yanking you back down and right onto his dick. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and your eyes begin to roll back. With your lips parted in an O, he finds himself groaning at the feeling of your tight heat and the sight of your oh so beautiful face twisted up in both pleasure and pain. 

With a deep groan vibrating his entire chest, he bottoms out inside of you. He feels impossibly deep as he nestles inside of you. Your nails scrape against the wooden surface, and your back arches. Your entire body is being overwhelmed by the intense pain he’s causing, yet you can’t deny the element of pleasure that’s mixed in. 

You would’ve never mentioned it to him, but Yuuji did always treat you like glass. He was always a bit too kind and a bit too gentle. It felt good, just not…intense.

“Sukuna,” you nearly scream the name, hips stuttering as you try to not cum right then. He’s pushing your knees up to your chest, leaning forward to get a good look at the pathetic puddle he’s turned you into, as he fucks you roughly. 

“You sound good saying my name, pet,” he laughs, thrusting deep into you as his second  cock rests above your stomach. “I always knew you would.”

The two of you stay like that for awhile— Sukuna fucking you within an inch of your life, and you taking it like some sort of rag doll. It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum. With the length of his second cock rubbing against your clit, you’re easily overstimulated until you're squirting all over him. 

That’s another thing you’ve never done with Yuuji. It feels so dirty and twisted, but fuck, you can’t deny how good this monster is making you feel. His cock is reaching places you didn’t think possible and it’s driving you insane. 

After what feels like forever, Sukuna’s finally starting to pull out. You’re practically half-conscious at this point. Your body is lolled out on the table, limply laying there as you stare up at him with lidded eyes. 

You watch as his, seemingly permanent, grin widens, and you don’t fully understand why it is, until you feel something else prodding at your hole. He’s not…is he?

For the nth time tonight, your eyes widen at the sight of him trying to push his other cock into your pussy beside the one that’s already there. 

“S-Sukuna it won’t fit, it won't—“

“Will you ever learn to shut up?” He snarls, starting to push in. Thankfully for him, two cocks is a quick way to get you to quiet down. You’re far too preoccupied with getting stretched beyond your limits to worry about talking back. 

It feels like you’re going to explode at any given time. It’s just too much. You could barely fit what was in you before, let alone double. Your eyes twitch due to how hard they’re rolling. 

Finally, as you begin to regain some semblance of control over your body, you try to refocus your vision. Your eyes land on Sukuna once more, studying how he begins to look less like Yuuji the longer this goes on. He’s beginning to morph into his own self. It’s weird and creepy and you want it to stop.

Drifting away in search of something else to latch onto, your eyes find another thing to focus on. This one, though, is much more alarming. 

A thick bulge can be seen poking through your skin in the shape of his cock. You watch in absolute horror as it moves in tandem with his hips. 

“You little humans,” he purrs. “All so fragile. Look at that…” once his hand goes to trace the bulge and you finally see just how large his hands really are. “Look how deep inside of you I am. C’mon,” he taps your cheek, trying to pull you from your dazed state. “You can’t fall asleep yet.”

He doesn’t even give you the chance to say something in response. Instead, he begins to fuck you at a rough pace. Not as fast as earlier, but a lot deeper. With each stroke, you find yourself crying out his name and reeling from the pleasure he’s providing. It’s sick and insane that you’re finding any aspect of this enjoyable, let alone all of it. Every single movement has you one step closer to cumming. 

 By the time Sukuna’s emptying both of his cocks inside of you and filling you to the brim with cum, you’ve already hit your climax two additional times. You’re completely dazed over at this point, barely even conscious, and definitely not aware enough to notice how swollen your tummy is due to the copious amount of cum he dumped inside of you. 

He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but he’s letting out a deep sigh. The deal he and Yuuji made was that he got to fuck you once and only until he came. He has a feeling Yuuji won’t allow him any other fun than that, especially since it’s going to be hard enough trying to convince you this was a nightmare or whatever other bullshit he’ll try to feed you. 

“Okay, brat,” he mutters, pressing down lightly on the bulge and watching you haphazardly squirm. “I’m done now. Let’s go.”

One. Two. Three. 

Nothing comes. No one switches. 

A devilish grin finds Sukuna’s face once more. 

“God, you’re such a little pervert,” he laughs. “You want to watch me fuck her brains out again, don’t you, Yuuji?” Even with no response, he knows he’s right. 

His hand strokes your cheek gently, before roughly grabbing your jaw, scaring you but not enough to jolt you awake.

“Seems like we get to have some more fun, Doll.”

tagging: @enchantedforest-network , @themovingcastlez , @hannzai , @pussydrunkfyodor , @chaoticmoonave , @kkittycries , @dilfhos , @saintriots , @suyacho , @princess-okkotsu

[storiesfromafan]

I Want All Of You (18+) - Benny x Plus!Size Reader

A/N: I bring you all part two of my plus size reader one-shot 😊

Feedback always welcome 😅

Warning/s: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v, a bit of praise kink (?), grammer/spelling mistakes

Tag list: @psychocitylights @lilithlunastark

Kathy was right, a man will always want to be seen with his woman. No truer statement fitted Benny. After the first night he did everything to chase you. Showing up at the house, or your work, to make sure you were right to get home, or needed a ride. Even watching you as you grocery shopped with Kathy. It became so much that one night you just asked him; what do you want Benny?

His response; you.

You were shocked, surprised, excited and scared all wrapped up in one chaotic ball. You asked him why you? What made you so special. He looked you in the eyes, point blank and asked why not? That stumped you. There were so many reasons why it shouldn’t be you. But in that moment, you couldn’t think of them. The holding gaze Benny had on you, all the negative thoughts, or doubts disappeared. How did he have such power over that part of you?

Maybe it was the way he pursued you. Not taking no for an answer. Not caring who saw him with you, talking to you, wanting you. The determination in this man was commendable. That was why you gave in. No man has ever pulled you in for a kiss so fast. A hungry, possessive kiss. His large hands holding onto your waist securely, like you’d run from him. The way his tongue dominated your own, had your knees buckling. When Benny pulled back, he enjoyed the kiss drunk look on your face. Telling himself to do that to you often.

Though you were happy and excited for what you had with Benny. You found it hard at times to fully let yourself loose itself. Such as when Benny would kiss you stupid. Hands running over your body. Usually started with your chest, down your sides to grasp your hips. Or grope your behind. His movements were desperate and dominating. But you would shift, or move away. Worried that sooner or later Benny would find a part of your body that he doesn’t like. So, you kept as much distance as you could. But it was hard with his need to touch you.

Monday was an extra day off, making up for a double you’d done Friday. Kathy was at work, leaving you to do your share of the house work. Before you were done you heard that familiar rumble of an engine coming down the street, before it stopping out the front of your house and the engine cutting out. You smiled softly knowing Benny was here to see you. Like he did every day you’re off, along with nights. Yet he hadn’t stayed the night, or been in your bed.

You made it to the front door just as Benny leant in to knock, of course surprising him. But then he shot you an amused smirk.

“I could hear you two streets away with that thing" you mused leaving the door open, and returning to the kitchen to finish scrubbing some pots.

“That thing is my bike" he retorted closing the door after entering the house. “And you like my bike”.

You laughed from the sink, a sight that greeted Benny as he leant in the kitchen doorway. The soft sound of the radio on in the background, which you were absent-mindedly moved too. Oh how Benny enjoyed watching your body move, swaying side to side. Those curves he enjoyed feeling, before you’d shift or move away. Cutting him off from the simplest joys. He had thought about it for the last week, and the only thing he could put it down to was you being self-conscious. Afraid there will be a part of you he won’t like. Which is wrong.

To Benny, your body was a supple, curvy feast for his eyes and hands. If you’d give him the chance, he would run his hands over every part of your body. His lips, tongue and teeth not fair behind them. He would worship you till you couldn’t take it anymore.

Moving from his spot, Benny crossed the room to stand behind you. His arms wrapping around your waist, and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You giggled when his stubble brushed your skin, while you fidgeted in his hold. Yet Benny made sure you weren’t getting away from him this time. You protested and whined, making it about needing to finish the pots. But really you were worried today would be the day he’d find something about your body to dislike.

“Stop fidgitin' baby" Benny sighed against your neck. “I just want to feel ya”.

You quieted down, movements halting. You racked your brain for an excuse, a reason, to get out of his hold. But you couldn’t think of one. Shakily you continued to scrub the pot before you. While Benny remained wrapped around you. Happy to finally get to feel you against him. But he could tell you were still holding back, and he knew he had to nip it in the butt once and for all. So Benny started to think of a plan, one that would show you just how much he loved your body.

Starting by soft, sloppy kisses to your neck. His hands then moved over your stomach, which had a little chub to it, but not enough for a tummy. You stiffened when his hands roamed that area. Which was a worry of yours. But Benny didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was being nice. Slowly his hands headed up, over your ribcage to cup your breasts. His large hands encased each mound, slowly caressing them over the sweater you were wearing. With the first gentle squeeze, a small sigh slipped from your lips, a little surprised mixed with a touch of pleasure. Yet, you were still fighting those self-doubts.

Benny planted a firm kiss to your neck, before moving and nipping your earlobe. “You’re so beautiful” Benny growled lowly in your ear. “Every inch of you...”

He moved his hands back down your stomach, and to your hips. Holding them firmly he drew his head back, before he turned you around to face him. Benny's lips met yours in a hard kiss, hands slipping to your rear. Firmly he squeezed before drawing you close to him. Your chests pressed together. Benny pushed his tongue into your mouth, dominating it. The way his tongue took charge, stroking your tongue in a guiding manner. He wanted you to know you were everything.

You pulled back from the kiss with a small squeak when Benny picked you up, his large hands cradling your behind. Those delicious arms of his flexing with strength as he held you up. You protested, saying to put you down. That you were too heavy to lift, you’d hurt him. Those words soon died on your tongue when he shot you a dark, angry look. Resting you against the sink, Benny held your gaze firmly before speaking.

“Sweetheart, these arms were made to pick you up. What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t carry my girl?” his tone was low, gravelly but deathly serious. Sending a delightful chill down your spine.

You moved your hands to his shoulders, gripping his denim vest and t-shirt. You felt embarrassed by his hold on you, but his strong words lightened you a bit. That flutter in your stomach back because Benny wanted to show you, you were just like everyone else. Feeling pride in him, you leant in and gave him a quick kiss. Which made him smile. It was a small step forward to you getting over your self-consciousness, and Benny would take it.

“I want you" he said softly, looking you deep in the eyes. “I want all of you".

God, he knew what to say to make you a mess. If he keeps going, you’d go limp in his arms. You know if he keeps talking like this, you might finally believe it all. You crushed your lips to his, hand moving to hold the back of his head. Your lips moved together in a fever, tongues colliding and caressing in a rush. You might be a worry wart, but you wanted this man to help you get over it or learn to love yourself through his eyes.

Pulling back, Benny hoisted you up in his arms, a loud squeak leaving your lips this time. Which made you both laugh. Before he carried you from the kitchen, and up the stairs to your room. Entering the room, Benny made sure to close the door with his foot. He placed you upon the bed, a tad ungraceful, resulting in him leaning over you. Again you both laughed, before sharing a quick tender kiss. What should be a heated moment, seemed to have touches of clumsy and laughter. Which seemed to ease you.

Pulling back, Benny removed his denim vest and then his t-shirt. Giving you the opportunity to gaze at his chest. And what a sight to behold. Starting at his pecks and then down his abs. Noticing where you were looking, Benny ran a hand over his chest, down and then up, a knowing smirk on his full lips.

“Like what ya see?” He asked with a chuckle, and a wink.

You blushed, but nodded your head.

“Good" he stated, leaning back over you again, eyes boring into yours. “Because I know I’m gonna like what I’ll see".

Benny's hands moved to the hem of your sweater, his fingers sliding under as it rode up. You stiffened, holding your breath. He kissed your lips, softly telling you all the right words before moving his hand higher, fingers skimming over the flesh of your stomach. The pads of his fingers were rough against your soft skin. His hand warm, almost scorching you. Yet the briefest touch of his ring was cool. You relaxed but shuddered at the feelings he was bringing forth in you.

With a bit of shuffling, Benny removed your top, tossing it behind him to rest with his vest and t-shirt. You were a sight, slight laboured breathing and laying before him in your bra and slacks. His eyes feasted on the revealed skin. You squirmed a little, wishing you could cover yourself.  But you stopped the moment he leant down and placed a kiss between your concealed breasts. The eye contact he was giving you – intense and determined – took your breath away.

“So beautiful" he muttered against your skin. “And I haven’t fully unwrapped my treat yet...”

You felt the heat pooling in your lower half. His words, actions and eye contact the trinity to your arousal. God, if this was what it would be like to fool around with Benny, you’d have done it sooner. Next Benny moved his hands to undo your bra, and rid you of it. Right away one of his large hands cupped a breast, the warmth of his hand hotter than your skin. His lips kissed the other breast, then his teeth grazed it. You groaned, arching your back wanting more.

And Benny happily gave it to you. His lips touching the erect nipple, a chaste kiss. Next, he sucked it into his mouth, full lips plush to your skin. The more he sucked your groans turned to a glorious moan. Music to Benny’s ears. He then switched breasts, sucking one while fondling the other. All the while Benny watched you, enjoying how he was making you feel. The moment his name left your mouth, he groaned as he sucked harder. Which in turn turned the volume of your moan up.

Satisfied with lavishing your breasts with attention, while driving Benny crazy, he released them. Of course he wasn’t going to leave it there. He moved on to your slacks, unbuttoning and zipping them before removing them without a trouble. Now you lay before him in just your panties. Instinctively you drew your legs together, arms moving to cover your chest.

But Benny was quick, hands on your legs, moving them apart for him to crawl between. No way to hide that part from him. Not after being such a torture to him. His manhood was hard, uncomfortable in his jeans. He could so easily free himself, push your panties to the side and fuck you into the mattress. But he wouldn’t – couldn’t – do that to you. Your body had to be worshipped, tended to with care and devotion.

“I love your outfits" Benny racked his eyes from your panties, up and over your stomach and chest, to look deeply into your eyes. “But I love you like this so much more".

It’s funny, but you believed every word he said. He was genuine and honest. Slowly you removed your arms, placing them at your sides and holding onto the bedding. He smiled, pleased you trusted him.

“Good girl" he praised, hands skimming up your sides. “I want to worship this body with my hands, my tongue and my teeth. But I desperately want to be inside you. Do you want that, baby?”

Slowly you nodded, your face hot from embarrassment.

He pinched your side gently. “I want to hear it. Say you want it".

Biting your lip you took in a shaky breath. “I-I want it" you muttered.

Benny shook his head. “Gotta be louder...”

“I-I want it!” your voice was loud and clear for Benny to hear.

He smiled before moving in to kiss you deeply once more. Nipping your bottom lip before pushing his tongue in. It was all hunger and want. He then moved down your neck and chest, sloppy kisses and bites. He licked from under your breasts and down over your stomach. You sighed with content, watching him with hooded eyes. This would be when Benny would move his hand lower, fingers exploring the jewel between those enchanting thighs. But he really couldn’t wait. He had to be in you, fucking you till you couldn’t take it.

Managing with one hand, Benny freed himself from his jeans and boxers. And – with a little time – was able to get them over his hips and far enough that he could kick them completely off his legs. Pulling back from you, Benny moved to your panties. He should have pulled them down your legs, like anyone would. But by now, he was a little impatient. Swiftly he tore them from you, extracting a small surprised scream from you. That made Benny laugh.

“Sorry, I really can’t wait anymore, baby" was his amused words to you.

With some moving around, mostly opening your legs wider, and getting himself into place, things were back on track. In this position Benny could see you all, how perfect your pussy looked. Holding his cock, Benny leant in, running the tip through your folds. You softly gasped, he looked to you as he did it again. The moment he nudged your clit, you groaned. Over and over again he did it again, sometimes even slow, just to get noises from you.

This was all good and fine, a feast for his eyes of you on display and your reactions. But he needed more. Slowly Benny pushed the tip into you. Inch by inch he watched himself sink into you, before bottoming out. You’d taken him so damn well. And he voiced that. Making you blush, which he found beautiful. You needed to know how good you were for him, and how good you were doing.

Leaning in Benny once more kissed you. This time it was slower, tender even. Showing you that he was still there, and would go easy on you. Even if his words said otherwise. He was doing this for you, showing you how much he wanted and needed you. In and out of the bed. How you were his. This was the final way to claim you as his girl.

“You feel so fuckin' good" Benny sighed against your lips. “You ready, baby?”

You nodded, and he let that slip this time. But he will teach you to answer him, how much your words mean. Benny slowly pulled back, until the tip was just inside, before thrusting back in. He kept his pace slow at first, letting you get use to his size and the intrusion. You felt so damn good, and it was getting hard for Benny to not just lose himself. Your back arched, noises of approval leaving your lips, spurring him on more.

You’d slept with a few men before but they were nothing like Benny. For them it was all about them. What they liked. How they felt. That they got off. None had ever taken the time and care like the man above you. Benny was taking care of both of you, but had put you first of course. You felt that coil in your stomach tightening. His word and actions playing a big part in your arousal. Plus Benny was exceptionally good to look at. He was the total package.

When he hiked up your leg, and snapping his hips, Benny somehow managed to thrust deeper. Hitting that spot that was sinfully pleasurable. The moan it ripped from you should have made you blush and want to die, but it felt just so good. Again Benny thrusted, hitting that spot. Getting the same reaction, only the moan seemed a little more desperate, needing more.

Leaning over he moved faster – harder – needing more of those reactions. Your hands moved from gripping the bedding, to grasping onto Benny's shoulders and back. His name falling from your lips when he hit that spot over and over again a few times. God how he loved hearing his name coming from your mouth like that.

With every thrust you got closer to reaching your climax. That coil in the pit of your stomach getting tighter and tighter. The groans and noises Benny was making just added fuel to the fire. The gruff, deep voice of his lost in this moment between you both. The way he would look at you with those stormy blue eyes, the fire and passion there shining back at you. This man was perfect with attention and affection.

“I-I’m c-close...” you stuttered, voice raspy.

Benny groaned in approval. “Cum for me baby".

With a few more harsh, deep thrusts – hitting that spot over and over – finally pushed you over the edge. Clutching at Benny, nails digging into his skin, back arched you moaned as you came. Feeling you tighten around his cock, Benny thrusted a few more times, movements getting more sloppy. Before finally hitting his peak. Buried deep within you Benny came, his seed filling you up.

You both stayed how you were for a few moments. Sweaty and heavy breathing messes. You looked up at Benny, face warm not only from your activities but shyness washing over you. Benny, on the other hand, looked down at you with admiration. He was absolutely transfixed with you. How beautiful and perfect you were. And those words tumbled out of his mouth, shocking you.

“W-what?” You asked softly.

Now Benny was the one going shy. “Shit...I said that out loud?”

You nodded, remaining quiet.

He put his head down, feeling embarrassed. “I-it’s true though, you’re beautiful and perfect...”

Your chest fluttered from his admission. You might not see it or believe it when you look at yourself in the mirror, but the man above you did. A small, warm smile graced your lips as you moved a hand to the back of Benny’s head. Running your fingers through the tuff of hair on the back of his neck, you coaxed him to look back to you. Seeing how happy you were, it made him smile in return.

“Thank you" you said with joy.

Wanting to not ruin the mood, but Benny wanted to hold you close, he reluctantly removed himself from you. And fell beside you on the bed, bringing you to his chest as he wrapped you up in his arms. Placing a kiss to the side of your head, Benny repeated his words, wanting you to remember them. You moved your head back and pulled him in for another kiss, showing him just how much he meant to you.

“I think I could get use to bein' your girl, if that was what I get every time we’re in bed" you boldly stated.

He chuckled before moving his lips to your ear. “Baby, not just in bed will I do that to you".

Numerous places crossed your mind, all the possibilities that lay ahead for you in Benny's presence. You were thrilled but also a little embarrassed, but a good kind of embarrassed. This man might be the death of you. Or the man of your dreams.