#I’m a wrong that needs eradication

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft? #is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

[piggyinthesea]

The Night After Monaco

part 2 of this fic

pairing: charles leclerc x reader, max verstappen x reader

word count: idk prolly more than 2k

warnings: shouting, smut, messy charles, stress, anxiety, fluff, kind of sugar daddy charles, max being desperate, gaslighting

summary: charles teaches you things you didn’t know about yourself he shows you what it means to truly be taken care of. but, does this mean things are really done with max?

Son las cinco 'e la mañana y yo no he dormido nada

It’s 5 in the morning and I haven’t slept at all

Pensando en tu belleza, en loco voy a parar

Thinking of your beauty, going to end up crazy

El insomnio es mi castigo, tu amor será mi alivio

Insomnia is my punishment, your love is my relief

Y hasta que no seas mía no viviré en paz

And until your mine, I won’t live in peace

There’s always someone watching. Every time you do something there’s always someone or something watching. You realized that when you found a post on Instagram about the other night.

f1exlusiveupdates

f1exlusiveupdates: Charles Leclerc, ferrari driver, spotted leaving an exclusive club with company shortly after his Monaco Gp win. No images including the female’s face.

↳ user233 just a hook up, not a big deal.

↳ charlesismybf it’s me guys, I’m the female☺️

↳ formula1luver baby come home the kids miss you

327 comments 15,000 likes

Charles had sent the article to you that had been posted that same evening with a message asking to talk. It shouldn’t have bothered you the way it did but, you became extremely anxious to hear what he had to say.

The moment Charles’s had woken up he was met with a text from his brother, Arthur. Arthur had sent the article with an abundance of questions of who, what, when, why. After Arthur persisted, Charles had told him everything.

He explained your situation, the ‘break’, and he even threw in the hickey on Max’s neck to ease it all. Arthur had nothing to say. His moral compass was being challenged and he didn’t know whether the whole thing was right or wrong.

1. It was Max’s idea to take the break.

2. The relationship was already running its course (Due to mainly Max’s fault).

3. Max cheated on you too.

He explained to Charles that it wasn’t right to take his chance with you right after taking a break knowing you were vulnerable and just needed a friend, however, technically speaking he did nothing wrong. Charles definitely needed to talk to you and figure out what exactly was going on and what the both of you intended to do. He had an entire speech prepared. He wanted to ask you if you’d consider pursing a relationship with him. He understood that it’ll definitely cause a scandal and he planned to assure you he could take it as slow as you wanted to. He wanted to tell you he didn’t see you as just ‘a hook up’. He wanted a deep and meaningful relationship with you, if you’d let him attain one.

However, his speech was forgotten and completely eradicated from his brain when he saw you. You wore a simple outfit. A graphic t-shirt with jeans. Yet, you still knocked the breath out of him.

For a moment he didn’t know what to say. “Hey.”

You awkwardly smile. Your anxiety was booming and him looking so gorgeous did not help you. You had already mentally prepared yourself for rejection.

“Hi.”

You let him in and the both of you begin walking towards the couch in the living room. Awkward silent moments pass. Still, no one had said anything and the both of you stayed staring at each other.

“H-“

“Y-”

You cut each other off.

“You go first.”

“No, sorry you go first.” He says with his cheeks burning up.

“I understand if the other night was just something casual to you. And I’m sorry about the article.” You ramble. You didn’t mean to cause a scandal and make things messy for him. You hoped he didn’t hold anything against you.

“It wasn’t casual! Sorry. Sharing that night with you was so amazing. I want more of that. I know it’ll be extremely hard for you but, if you’d have me, I’d enjoy a serious relationship with you.” He quickly states, mentally cussing himself out for acting a fool.

His words take a few moments to process. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d want a relationship with you. Maybe it was because you had low-self worth but being in a public relationship with Charles scared you. His fan base was crazy.

The internet would have a field day if they had ever found out you have a relationship with Charles. They’d call you out kinds of names. Slut, whore, homie-hopper. You could see it clearly. “I don’t know if having a relationship would be the best idea. I don’t even know if I still have one. And besides the internet-”

“Forget about the internet. Do you want me?”

You answered within a flash, “Yes.”

“We shouldn’t let it the internet rule our lives. They won’t understand, but at least we’ll have each other.” He reaches towards your hands and holds them together, “Ma belle, I promise we can take it as slow as you need to.”

His eyes silently pleaded at you. He looked at you with his big brown eyes and long eyelashes. He was irresistible and oh-so-pretty. He acted as if he expected you to say no. How could you though? When he looked at you with longing and passion the way he was doing right now…it’d be hard to ever say no.

“Okay. But first I need to talk to Max. We never officially broke up.”

“Of course.” Before leaving, he pulls you in and leans forward. His lips feel soft against yours. A simple act of affection is so tempting and before the kiss is deepened, he pulls away and leaves your flat.

You knew what you had to do now. You dreaded every second of it but you texted Max.

vroom vroom

come over, we need to talk.

I’ll be there in a couple minutes

read 2:03 pm

It didn’t take long for the door to your pad ring. Each step you took as you walked closer and closer made you feel extremely uneasy. The door knob felt sticky against your sweaty hands.

Max stood in front of you with a bouquet of flowers. Without asking, he let himself in (a perfect reminder that he’s been here plenty of times before and this might as well been his second home).

“These are for you. I decided to forgive you and move on. Look, we can just forget this ever happened.” He handed the bouquet of flowers to you. You stood confused, yet you quickly became agitated the moment his words process.

“You forgive me?” You questioned, daring him to elaborate.

“Are you serious right now- look, I didn’t come here to fight. Baby, I don’t want our relationship to end. Don’t end this because of one mistake you did.” He says in a condescending tone.

The nerve of him. There’s no possible way he believes he’s still in the right. For fucks sake, he still has a hickey from another woman on his neck yet he’s coming to you as if you were the one in the wrong.

“My mistake? Max you have a fucking hickey from another woman on your neck. You don’t think this has anything to do with you?”

At this point, you were seriously debating throwing his shit-bouquet at him. He remained speechless, standing like a dumb ass waiting for another word to come out of your mouth. “You know what just leave. We’re done .” You angrily push him out and (gladly) shut the door.

You let out a huge sigh and ran both hands through your hair, frustrated as ever.

y/ninstagramuser has unfollowed maxverstappen1

y/ninstagramuser has followed charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc has followed y/ninstagramuser

It was only half an hour you’ve unfollowed Max until you heard a notification from Charles. It was a link…to yet again another gossip article. You physically groaned and mentally prepared yourself to get bashed.

formulaonebestgossip

formulaonebestgossip: Has the beloved grid couple broke up? Evidence to back this claim up consists of the fact that Y/n had just recently unfollowed Max. No posts from either party has been released confirmed this.

↳ user288 highly doubt this lol

↳ redbulll24 prolly was an accident since he still follows her🤷‍♀️

↳ user444 wait, does anybody know if Y/n followed Charles before this? I just checked and they’re both following each other 🌚

replying to user444 I think so? I’m not sure tbh but it doesn’t make sense why she would follow him after all this time

replying to user444 she definitely didn’t, I remember cause I used to stalk her followers all the time

8,600 comments 20.6k likes

3 familiar bubble dots popped up on your chat with Charles. After what seemed like a minute or so, they disappeared. Then, they came back.

charles🫠

did you break up with him?

yeah, he says he still wants to work things out though.

…do you want to?

Nope.

Good.

I want to take you out.

what if someone sees us?

If that’s something you’re worried about, I can work around that. I told you, the other night wasn’t just causal.

Okay then. I’d love to go out with you☺️

I’ll send you the details ❤️

seen 12:04 pm

Suddenly, you were in high school all over again having a schoolgirl crush. It didn’t take long for Charles to let you know the time he would pick you up tomorrow. You were excited and weirdly intrigued. What type of date could either of you go on where the public wouldn’t see you?

max v.

why’d you unfollow me?

because we’re not dating anymore ??

we’re not done. I’ll have you again, for sure. 😴

what the hell weirdo. don’t make me block you.

seen 12:26 pm

Without thinking of how Charles would feel, you took a screenshot and sent it to him. Within seconds, Charles replied.

Charles🫠

I’ll make you forget him tomorrow, don’t worry sweetheart.

oh yeah? how so?

First, I’d fuck you dumb on my private jet we’re taking tomorrow. No one else would be around, so it’d be just the two of us. Then, we’ll look through online lingerie shops together while you’re sitting on my lap as I picture you wearing them. I’ll make sure you always have something pretty. Maybe I’ll even get you some nice Versace heels for funsies. By the end of the day, you’ll probably memorize my bank digits. Not that I mind, as long as I get to see you wear the stuff you’ve bought.

are you alone?

why, are you touching yourself?

can you answer my question first?

Yes, im alone. Now you answer mine.

Of course I am. I feel like you say the right words to get me going on purpose.

No, it wasn’t on purpose. How was I supposed to know you were that needy?

I’m sorry

Don’t be sorry, I love when your needy for me baby. Tell me how your touching yourself.

I have my fingers in my shorts. They don’t feel as good as you though. My body misses you.

I bet it does. Don’t worry though, I’ll see you tomorrow princess. Can you insert a finger into yourself?

I did it. I wish it was you instead :(

Don’t be sad, ma belle. Just keep touching yourself.

I’m close Charles. I wish you were here.

keep touching yourself sweetie.

I didn’t come. Max texted me.

Can you block him for me, cheríe? With the cherry on top.

Of course, anything for you.

Thank you 💗. I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon.

liked message

You felt as if you’d been robbed from you high. The pleasure you’ve felt until the moment Max texted you was something you’ve never experienced by just merely looking at words on a screen.

Max was still ‘asking’ to start over. Yet, it was something about the way he said it that proved he still truly didn’t think he did nothing wrong. He pointed the faults at you and hasn’t realized his own mistakes in the process. This had got you second guessing. What if you really were the one in the wrong? You quickly shook the thought away and scrolled through Instagram.

Nothing interesting had happened today and so you took a small walk around your neighborhood before returning back, sweaty and tired. When you arrived to your door, a large bouquet of flowers sat in the door step. It didn’t take much to figure out they were from Max. You like being gifted things. Receiving gifts was your gift language, something you’ve told Max plenty of times, yet only now he’s doing the gifting. You ponder for a moment. Maybe it was because of how pretty the flowers were that you began to second guess yourself. You looked at the pink wrapping and the white roses decorated with golden butterflies and fairy lights. You wondered if you’d been to hard on Max.

You tossed the flowers onto your couch, not caring about the fragility of them. The rest of the day had been spent with updates from Charles, who had been attending formula 1 meetings all day long. Once night came, you texted your good nights to each other and went to bed.

It didn’t take long for the sun to rise and finches to start singing. The color of the sky had been a beautiful light blue color with cotton candy shaped clouds. You got up and splashed water on your face and rubbed your inner eye boogers away. The time read 11:49 am as you checked your phone. No new notifications other than Charles good morning text had been sent to you, sadly. It’s your own fault for having no social life.

Since Charles was meant to pick you up at 1:30, you had a decent amount of time to get ready. You picked a white summer dress with spaghetti straps and floral prints. It reached towards your mid thigh, enough to be slightly scandalous yet still long enough to remain a proper dress for any occasion. For jewelry, you opted to a small pearl necklace and shiny small earrings. The shoes you were white platform 3 inch heels with a cute lace ankle buckle strap. After putting on light make up, it was 10 minutes until 1:30 and someone knocked on your door.

You fully expected it to be Charles, until it wasn’t. Max was standing in front of your door once again with a plain light blue button up and navy jeans.

“Where are you going looking so pretty?” Max stares at your body with intent as leaned against the door frame. A voice behind him spoke to him,

“She’s going with me.” Charles held a luxurious looking box and he pushed himself in front of Max and passed it to you.

Inside, there was about 50 small cut roses mixed in with a couple pink roses to make a heart effect. The black box had a bow around it. The brand was in another language you couldn’t pronounced in a gold and Italian style.

“These are beautiful, Charles.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as Max had burned holes through his back.

“Those are okay. Where are mines though?” Max desperately looked through doorframe into the apartment.

“Somewhere on the couch. Probably dead by now.” You said, locking the door behind you and holding Charles hand. “We have somewhere to be, don’t we?”

He nods in agreement as you guys begin to walk away from Max who still stood in front of your apartment.

Click📸

The ride to the airport was talks about each others childhood and teenage years. His hand rested upon your thigh as he drove with his other arm. You’d found out Charles had 2 siblings. One older and another younger. He asked questions about, where you grew up, where your family’s from, and asked questions about your job. Your mother was a well-known model in the 80’s, so with the amount of traveling, you technically grew up everywhere. Naturally, you pursued a career in modeling. People loved you. Not because of your ‘beauty’ but many say it was the way you carried yourself and how you manipulated the energy around you to feel comforting and safe. Some called you a nepo baby, but really, that’s just what they want to believe. You believed modeling was made for you. You loved the sponsered gifts from extravagant brands, the free beauty products, the party invitations, traveling, but overall it was the way you felt on the runway that won your heart. Some may argue you were a little too materialistic, but if there’s no harm in it, what’s the problem? Max was sweet, most of the time, during your relationship. Though there was this one time, he ‘jokingly’ called you a gold digger. It was one of those phrases that just stuck with you for some reason. You didn’t believe it. You rarely asked for him to buy you stuff and so you were just confused, not offended. Besides, you had your own money. If there wasn’t a man to spoil yourself, you’d do it yourself. As you arrived to the port, Charles took a different entrance than the regular one. He pulled into a large lot with big green hangars in a row, each holding a different jet. There was only one jet outside the hangar. It was standard size yet smaller than the average public jet and by the looks of it ready to go on any command. Boarding the jet and taking off didn’t take long however the cocktails that you’ve both ordered did.

The attendee had finally returned with the cocktails and before drinking, you and Charles clinked your glasses. His hand rested on your thigh and you asked, “Where are we going?”

“Las Vegas. I was hoping you’d attend attend the gp there.” He said. He lightly traced circles around your thigh. You felt small shockwaves of electricity shooting towards your core. Even though he sat right next to you, you felt as if you were so far from each other.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon? The internet thinks Max and I only broke up barely a week ago.” You said, looking into his eyes while scanning his reaction.

“But…” his hand inches closer to your inner thighs, “I want to see you.” He quietly pleads into your ears as his hands travel further and further. There was an urge in your core begging him to go further, like it was thriving off his touch. His hands caress your inner thigh, squeezing them and teasingly brushing over your panties. One of his hands reach your head and pulls you in a breath taking kiss. It was deep and slow yet it was enough to get your heart beating like crazy. His other hand reached towards the inside of your dress, snapping the band of your panties against you in a teasing manner. He pulled away, grabbing your hand and lifting you from your seat towards his lap.

You sat on his lap, facing towards him while your legs were in an M position sticking out. Your heads clashed as your mouths merged together, intensifying the feeling in your crotch. His hands felt like fire as they traveled from your thighs to your waist. He ran them slowly up your waist during your kiss and then slightly pushes you further down his lap, letting you feel his hard-on. You feel your core soaking up and you find yourself wishing you were doing more than tongue kissing. Not breaking from the kiss, you grind down on him and as a result a soft groan left his mouth. “You drive me so crazy.” He whimpers, eyes never leaving you.

“I sure hope so.” You tell him, hands trailing down his chest down towards his crotch. He looks at you daringly, gasping when you cup his clothed crotch and slowly pull down the zipper to his pants. You take his member out, admiring the beauty that laid in front of you. His pink almost red tip with pre-cum sliding down looked so perfect in your hands. You slowly massage him up and down. He tilts his hand back and lets out a pornagraphic moan.

You suddenly let go of his shaft to turn around. With your back facing his face, you pulled down your panties and raised your pretty summer dress, flashing your ass for just a moment before aligning yourself to him. You sit down on him and instinctively the both of you let out noises of pleasure. You feel him slowly filling you up more and more until you finally sink down all the way. You begin to grind forward before you sharply get pushed back down.

“Stay still.” Charles warns you. “Let’s get you a new wardrobe.” You confusedly wait for Charles to pull out his laptop and place it in the movable table in front of you guys. He types in his passcode and searches up, ‘Victoria Secret’.

“Each set you get, you’re allowed to move once.” He whispers to your ear then pulled the computer closer towards you.

“But I want to move already.” You begged and whined.

“Then start shopping, baby.”

You scrolled down the page, quickly browsing to add the first thing you see into your cart. The first set was a light red pretty coquette set. The bra had beautiful lace designs with a tiny bow in the middle of your breasts.

“Wouldn’t you look so pretty in that?” He says, trapping your hips and grinding on his dick, finally creating some sort of friction for you. You were craving more movement by the second and so you glued your eyes to the screen.

The next set was a navy blue set that had a strap design around your hips. As you were about to add it to your cart Charles stops you, “You’d look absolutely beautiful in this but, I don’t like the color blue.”

You whined but continued scrolling until you found a maroon 3-piece lingerie set. It had heart shaped garters around the thighs and another connecting to your stomach with the ring of the garter stopping in the middle of your stomach, where your belly button was at. Charles had hummed in approval and moved your hips up and down with his hands stuck on your waist.

This had gone for what you thought was eternity. At the end there were 17 sets of lingerie in Charles cart which he had pay for (happily). The sets ranged from dark to light shades of red with the occasional pastel purple sets. It got to a point where you got so desperate that you outsmarted his game. You filtered the results the block all blue sets and after you started spam pressing ‘add to cart’.

After your post-orgasm bliss wore off, you had excused yourself to the restroom and roughly cleaned yourself up. You returned from the restroom and sat in your original seat next to Charles. He took your hand and entwined it with his. He rubbed circles around your hand before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It didn’t take very much for the two of your to fall asleep, hands still entwined lovingly.

Charles had woken up groggily and let go of your hand to rub his eyes. He looked out his window seat into the dark sky and reached into his pocket for his phone. He grabbed it, only to find out it was yours. Yet something had caught his eyes. You had a message from a random number.

1+400-765-3479

Unblock me, Y/n.

He wasn’t sure who this was at first, then something in his brain clicked. He needed to be sure, though.

who’s this?

Max.

Charles had physically laughed. A little part of him wanted to show his claim on you yet there was still a rational part in him begging him not to be messy. Except, Charles is a messy person. Without a blink, he grabbed your hand and entwined it with his. He took your phone, took a picture, and sent the photo to Max. Max left him on read for the remainder of the flight.

A firm hand on your shoulder shook you awake. You learned outwards to the window and saw a bright blue sky then you looked to the right and saw Charles smiling at you.

“Morning, cheríe. We’ve landed, let’s go.” He said, gathering his carry on bag. You gathered all strength to get up and walk down the hoarding stairs. You felt a pit of hunger dwelling in your stomach and you suddenly wished you had ate before the flight.

“I have a special day for us. We’re going to this beautiful private beach and I’ve had someone set up a small picnic for us. You’ll like the beach, it’s beautiful.” He says, holding your hand down the stairs. His infamous ferrari was only a couple meters away.

“How come we didn’t come in that car on the way here?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, I had to ship it out here so I sent it out earlier than when we left. That’s why.”

You let out an ‘oh’ as he opened the door to the passenger side for you. He gets in his seat, turning on the roaring engine and drives out of the port. As always, his hand rests on your thigh rubbing circles into your skin. A sudden realization hits you.

“I didn’t pack any clothes.” You say, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t either. We’ll hit the mall after we get to the beach.” He says, unworried.

The drive towards the beach was fairly quick. You figured it was because the port was close to the ocean. He pulled into what looked like a cliff only to surprise you by stepping off the cliff into well hidden stairs. The stairs were narrow and so he reached backwards to guide your hand down and ensure your safety. The stairs were long and risky yet you made it down with no issues. At the bottom, there was a small booth with a worker in it, giving a small nod towards Charles. Charles continues guiding you into the sand and he leads you to a gorgeous picnic set up. There was a white blanket across the sand with pillows placed elegantly in front of a white small table.

The table was placed under the shade of a white with hints of beige umbrella. China plates were set on the table with napkins on top of them shaped in elaborate designs. There was 2 fairly large wooden basket and a glass of wine next to it.

“How did you set this up?” You asked, walking around the beautiful set up. He sat down and you mimicked his actions.

“My brother’s in the country. I paid him to do it. I thought he would’ve just did something simple but he impressed me.” He reached towards the wooden basket. “Let’s see what he chose for our lunch.”

Inside the first basket, there were endless fruits such as watermelon, grapes, cherries, dragon fruit, and pineapple. Two silver sporks were set in the side of the basket along with extra sets of napkins. In the other basket there was plenty ingredients for a do-your-own sub. Two butter knives were also included. One to spread the mayo and another to cut the 2 medium sized baguettes.

The two of you began making your own, adding the right ingredients to satisfy your taste buds. You munched on your subway sandwiches until they finished, then the two of you fixed yourselves a plate of fruits. A comfortable silence was shared between the two of you as you took in the view in front of you.

Charles had pulled out 2 wine glasses and opened the wine bottle letting out a loud ‘pop’. The red liquid poured beautifully into the glass cups. Within moments, the two of you clinked your glasses and drank the liquid. You ached to be closer to Charles and so you moved yourself to his side. He wrapped of his arms around you and continued sipping the wine with the other.

“This is beautiful, Charles.” You murmur softly. He holds you tighter in response.

“You know I really like you?” He says, while staring off into the ocean. His eyes move to you only to find you already staring at him.

“I really like you too.”

He places a kiss on your head. “I hope one day we can walk through the entrance of the paddock holding hands in front of everyone.”

Your heart warms up. You’ve never felt happier than you do right now and you find yourself hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to maintain this happiness forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #girljournal #smut #sugarbaby

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N - Things are getting political up in here! Sounds like a great opportunity for character development hmm? Enjoy guys!! Ko-Fi.

Next part - Chapter 6.

-•-

Chapter 5

Y/N sat pensively atop her brother’s obsidian throne, her fingers drumming against the arm rest as she listened intently to every word spoken.

“They are beneath you, sister. Don’t overthink it,” said Geto as he donned a fresh haori for battle, its fabric woven from the threads of the savage fate of the clash between the divine and free.

From a shroud of shadows, Y/N had silently overseen Geto conducting his court for the past month; immersing herself into how Curses lived and behaved. Her brother had become quite obsessive with preparing her to sit on his throne and pass judgment in his absence, so she had dutifully stood behind him as he publicly proclaimed her as his sister and second in command to the entire court. Amidst Y/N’s observations, she had discerned the chaotic babbling and single-minded pursuits of violence and sin among the kingdom’s denizens, and Geto’s reasoning became crystal clear – they really were beneath her, for she possessed the mental fortitude and intelligence to think straight.

“And how do you know they won’t disrespect me because I’m Fallen?” she asked pointedly, her arms crossed as she watched her brother turn over his katana in his hands. “You are their King, not me.”

“These skirmishes have been an issue for a while now, and Geto has been aware of it, but last night marked the first open act of rebellion against him,” Suda announced grimly.

“It is precisely because I am King, that they wouldn’t dare,” he replied coolly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Who else is better to sit on my throne when I am gone, besides my sister?”

And so here she was, on her third day replacing Geto at court, listening to those in his inner circle discussing various issues both large and small within her brother’s kingdom. Y/N doubted her ability to be the one to pass judgement, especially given the prejudice against her being a Fallen seraph, but she had no choice now. She could only hope to avoid worsening the already turbulent politics within the Hells, a notion that seemed to be far-fetched given the current situation. Toji hadn’t come to visit her during that entire month, she felt nothing through their bond either, and Y/N wished he would just teleport then and there to offer guidance on what to do.

“How many dead?” Miguel inquired, standing cool and collected at the right side of the throne, his dark skin beautifully accentuated by the blue flames flickering in the throne room.

“Only ten. They were villagers guarding their food stores,” Suda replied, clutching tanned scrolls of paper to her chest.

Y/N frowned, her fingers ceased their movement, and asked, “Where were the soldiers guarding that village? It’s close to the border with Jogo’s kingdom, no?”

“You’ve been watching and learning for the past month, same as I,” he continued, a small smile on his face as he tried to encourage her. “I trust your judgement, you now understand what needs to be done.”

“And if I make the wrong choice, and start a war? Then what?” She huffed, her gaze darting anywhere but Geto. It was childish, even pathetic, of her to try and shirk responsibility, and she knew it.

Suda cleared her throat uncomfortably, casting a wary glance at Y/N, and continued slowly, “They allowed Jogo’s forces to pass freely into the village. They claim that Geto is a false King who cheated against Hajime, and they refuse to acknowledge him as their King.”

Her brother sighed, his jaw tightening, and an angry spark of flame ignited into a full blaze in his eyes. Geto gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze as he growled, “As your brother, I am asking you to do this for me. Don’t make command you as your King.”

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, as clear as day, that this was only due to Geto being a Fallen. Y/N knew it, and so did the rest of the council, who all had their eyes trained intently on her. Her heart pumped wildly in her chest, the heavy burden of expectations and responsibility falling onto her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

“I will do this Suguru, I just don’t think I’m ready,” Y/N replied, her voice steady despite his words cutting through her like a hot blade, and she stood just a little taller.

But she was almost used to it, and understood his thin patience; it was a delicate line drawn in the sand, and he teetered on the brink of plunging over into the side that was mayhem and insanity. In the three months since her arrival, Geto hadn’t ascended to Earth, instead focusing on overseeing her recovery and managing his court affairs. Y/N had noticed his frustrations subtly at first; sparring had become gradually more and more aggressive, as each of them were desperate to land a blow on the other. Each clash between them were Geto’s sole outlet for pent-up anger, as he crashed into her with the force of gale winds against a mountain. These sparring sessions were the only outlet for his anger, and she knew he was still learning about their new world too, and that he hated being a novice in unfamiliar territory. Therefore, she couldn’t help but be sympathetic with his desperate longing for confrontation.

Y/N drew in a deep breath and enquired, “Where are these soldiers now?”

“They have fled, but I can try to locate them,” Suda answered.

“Do it, and find out who else knew about these plans but did nothing. They are just as guilty,” she spoke louder, steeling her throat to prevent her voice from quavering. “Larue will go with you. Once you find them, report back to me immediately.”

Suda nodded, gesturing for Larue to follow her. The pair disappeared into a portal, leaving just Miguel, Negi Toshihisa, and the twins with her in the room.

“You’ll be fine. May I offer just one word of advice?” he muttered, as a portal materialized behind him. It was not a question, but she nodded anyways.

“How many more do you think would openly betray my brother?” Y/N asked, her eyes sweeping over to Miguel.

“There has been… discontent, that’s for sure. Hajime’s death was sudden, and there are certainly those still loyal to him. So I would say a fair few; they simply wait for more to rally to their cause,” he said, his words echoing with such wisdom that she questioned just how old he really was.

“Geto may be gone for days, and he cannot pass judgment on those who have betrayed him,” she muttered, mostly to herself, deliberating on what her brother would do in her place.

“Do you know what needs to be done?” Miguel asked, but it wasn’t a question.

He was testing her, goading her almost, to see if she was vicious enough to bite, and bite hard at that. She gave him a harsh look, and her hands tightly gripping the armrests of the throne.

“Don’t be so fucking nice,” Geto all but growled, a wild gleam in his eyes as his body yearned to tear apart flesh and spill holy blood. “You’re one of us now, act like it.”

And he was gone.

Y/N nodded stiffly; she was sure.

“Girls, get me my katanas.”

-•-

A few hours passed before Suda and Larue finally returned, both their faces filled with an ill-looking tension, and the blonde Curse sported a nasty looking wound on his right bicep.

“Did you find them?” Y/N asked, feeling a foreboding sensation creep from her toes to her head.

Suda grimaced, “Yes, they have rallied together and taken over the village, and are holding the residents hostage. We tried to negotiate, but they refused to listen to reason.”

Larue rotated his right shoulder, as if was trying to banish the pain into the air. The twins rushed over to him, fussing over and attempting to care for the wound. Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, feeling anger starting to seep inside her. Her own emotions were beginning to become increasingly difficult to contain. Perhaps she too, was beginning to cross the line in the sand.

You don’t want me to play nice? Fine then.

“What can they really do? It’s not as if they can win,” Larue scoffed, obnoxiously flexing his uninjured arm. “There were just too many there for me alone. Suda refuses to fight and ruin her complexion.”

“It’s a statement,” Negi finally spoke, giving Y/N a pointed look. “They won’t have any demands; all they are doing are simply declaring they will not yield to Geto any longer.”

“There’s more…” Suda trailed off, looking particularly uncomfortable.

“What?” Y/N huffed.

“They have… mutilated all the Fallen that lived in that village, beheading them and mounting the bodies on spikes outside. The corpses were then set ablaze, which is a clear declaration of Jogo’s influence.”

A foot over the line; a thread snapped.

She was deathly quiet, her slow rage having built into a blazing fire, and her glare bore into Suda as she spoke coldly, “I told you to come back to me when you found them. Why did you try to negotiate?”

The group sharply turned towards her at the sound of her displeasure, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sick and twisted sense of satisfaction at their spark of alarm – like spooked animals. Larue looked away uneasily, and Suda visibly gulped.

“I thought perhaps the issue would have been best solved between… I-uh, m-meant well!” She exclaimed, her voice reaching a higher pitch.

“Between who, hmm?” Y/N asked coolly, reclining back in the throne. “True-borns? Is that what you were trying to say?”

She couldn’t deny it to herself; she relished watching Suda squirm.

The guilty pair remained silent, looking to the ground, consumed by a mixture of shame or fear, perhaps both. Sensing the change in atmosphere, the twins ceased their care of Larue and positioned themselves on either side of the throne, their hands clasped behind their backs in a display of submission. Y/N drummed her fingers impatiently, a single eyebrow raised in silent expectation.

“I don’t believe any offense was meant,” Miguel offered quietly, making an attempt to placate her.

“I’m aware, Miguel,” she snapped. “What really irks me is that if my brother had given the order, then it would have been followed precisely. So why is it that when I give an order, you both decided to take matters into your own hands?”

She stood up abruptly, her voice ringing out in a much louder tone, “Suguru entrusted me to act in his stead, and believed you all would respect me, but it seems he was wrong.”

Her gaze swept over them all, and in that moment, she realized her brother was right. She knew these creatures, both as a Curse and an Angel. They all harbored a belief in their own self importance and desires, but Y/N could see right through their delusions. Her thoughts seemed to clarify into a crystal clear rainfall, it was almost tranquil, and it reminded her of her solitary prayers in Heaven. Perhaps it was time to draw upon a page from where she had been born for what had to be done to traitors – to show them no mercy, and no second chances. Who better to enact justice than a Fallen?

Pride…

Toji had sensed her mental fortitude shifting from afar, and she could just about feel him through their bond. Her heart fluttered like a dance of songbirds, a symphony of emotions echoing within her soul.

“I’ll forgive, just this once,” she declared, her gaze piercing as she stared pointedly at Larue and Suda. “Next time, I will remove you from this court myself. Is that clear?”

They both nodded, and Y/N could sense Nanako smirking from her peripheral vision.

“Now, we cannot allow dissent to continue within our own ranks, and we cannot tolerate violence against our own,” she continued, descending the steps of the throne towards the group. “Miguel, we leave at once.”

He nodded in agreement, stepping closer to her. Y/N couldn’t help but feel nervous; after all, this would be her first time leaving the relative safety of Geto’s palace. But she felt a sense of readiness calling her into action. The twins stood taller and shifted on their feet, eager to be noticed, and she turned to face them with a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“Are you girls going to hold us back?” she asked, her tone teasing and playful.

Mimiko procured a rope from behind her back, pulling it taut between her hands, while Nanako brandished two deadly daggers, twirling them with ease between her fingers. They both shook their heads, wearing serious expressions on their faces, but Y/N could see the glimmer of barely concealed excitement in their eyes.

“Good, let’s go then.”

-•-

Y/N smelt the bodies before she saw them.

It was acrid, charred, and absolutely sickening. But she made no face and withheld any sort of reaction. These Fallen were like her, even if some of them no longer resembled anything of the regal forms they once possessed in Heaven. She may very well have ended up just like this, defiled and massacred, if her brother hadn’t wielded the power he did now, and that struck a strange chord within her. For some reason, she was only just realizing how far away from home and her old life she was. And it hit her with a crippling loss of something she would never ever get back again, except perhaps in dreams.

The village itself wasn’t overly large. Simple barracks made of stone, with sharpened steel tipped spears at the tops of the walls. Some of the bodies displayed ominously outside were still smoldering, providing a glow against the night’s sky. The sky was just a fraction lighter than where Geto’s palace was, tinted with dark purple hues, and Y/N supposed it was because she was close to the border between layers.

“How would you like to do this?” Miguel asked calmly beside her.

What should she do?

“Every living creature in that village would betray my brother. They all must die,” she muttered, a tendril of ice spreading through her mind, and that shocked even herself.

“Very well, lead the way,” he replied, and she could tell he was so very pleased with her answer.

Y/N sucked in a breath, tensing her legs.

And she sprung forward.

A bolt of silver charging through the air.

Colliding into and breaking down the stone doors.

The traitorous Curses stared at her, faces twisted in disbelief and fear, and she stared at them all with hate and malice.

Anarchy erupted like a blazing bonfire as Miguel and the twins joined her, and without hesitation, Y/N moved with lethal precision, her movements fluid as water. Her katanas sang through the air as she struck down any Curse within her way, glinting coldly amidst the blue and orange hues of sulfur torches and burning corpses. Miguel fought at her side, his skill and strength much more controlled than hers as he helped her pave a path of destruction through their enemies. Amidst the chaos, screams and moans of pain filled the air as the twins struck from the shadows She could hear the screams and moans of pain as the twins struck from the shadows around them; two little devils in their own bubble of mayhem.

Y/N felt the very core of her soul blacken considerably, sensing what she could only describe as Sukuna’s influence – a presence imbued with fire and sin, coursing through her veins like a relentless parasite to consume her essence. She would transform into a vessel of suffering and war, with no sense of purpose beyond what he willed her to do. Her hands start to shake, and she was reduced to a ticking clock, a harbinger of disaster that would leave no soul unscathed in its wake.

She felt her soul leave her body, as if she were looking down at her body from far above. Was she traveling back in time while her body stood still? Back to a time when she had almost loved Satoru and belonged to him as his most prized possession.

Calm… Ease…

And she felt Toji, as if he were right there beside her. Y/N looked around frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of her green-eyed Curse, praying that he had sensed her throwing herself into danger and decided to join her. But he wasn’t there – his emotions through the bond served as a reminder, a nudge to reassure her that he was there in spirit, and that he felt her.

With concerted effort, Y/N pushed aside the rage and bloodlust that threatened to consume her, focusing instead on dealing out justice to those that dared to oppose her brother – oppose her. And as the last traitor fell at her feet, begging for mercy and forgiveness, Y/N could somehow empathize with the fear in its eyes. It reminded her of the time she had lost wasting away in Heaven, conforming to all their rules of perfection, forced to play the role of the perfect little soldier and Satoru’s betrothed.

And it had scared her.

So fucking much.

“They are beneath you, sister.”

But no longer.

Y/N struck the Curse hard across the face with her palm, shattering whatever resolve it clung to, and drove her blade into its eye – silencing it forever. She refused to go back in time; she simply wouldn’t. There was only a time before Toji, and after, and so she would never go back. Y/N felt herself rise above, a demon that had been waiting for hundreds of years to finally be born. From Heaven she had been born, but now she was a warrior of fire and steel. She would rather die than go back to the pristine kingdom that sought to confine her into a golden cage of Gojo’s love. No, here she was free, and would never be locked away again – Toji would never let her end up that way.

She knew then that she would have become a Curse, one way or another.

It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being the heavy rhythm of her breath, while her mind grappled with revelations and truths that had long been concealed even to herself. The bloodlust and adrenaline coursing through her veins were now subsiding, settling into sediments in her blood, and droplets of blood fell like rain from her katanas.

Black blood; just like hers.

Miguel approached her cautiously, surveying and taking in the carnage around them. “It is finished,” he murmured quietly, voice heavy with the weight of their actions, and the acknowledgement of what they had done – what had to be done.

She nodded, her gaze fixed on the lifeless bodies scattered across the ground before them, their vacant eyes staring blankly at the sky. There was no time to feel remorseful, and perhaps she had exhausted whatever remained within her. Yet, Y/N hoped that some trace of it still lingered within her, waiting to be ignited once more.

“My brother cannot wage his war if the rest of Hell stands divided against itself,” she declared, shattering the oppressive silence.

Miguel sighed heavily. “Hell has always been divided. That fact won’t change so easily.”

“We have to try,” Y/N hissed, gripping her katanas in frustration. “But first, we must become stronger ourselves before trying to unify the rest. The weak always follow the strong, and through strength, we can forge unity.”

Miguel regarded her with fascination; she looked at him questioningly.

“If you show the strength you have shown today, many will follow you wherever you go… I will follow you wherever you go,” he stated, and she was so overwhelmed, that all she could was hum in agreement.

Y/N heard the familiar sound of a portal opening behind her, prompting both her and Miguel to turn and face whoever had arrived.

Suguru stood as regal and powerful as ever with his arms crossed and his robes covered in dried red blood. A smear of crimson stained his cheek like clay, and his deep brown eyes bore into her. She perhaps would have been inclined to shirk away, but she stood tall and resolute as a mountain. Her brother could not break her; they were equals now, bound by a singular vision that finally unified them.

“You’ve been busy, sister,” he said at last, his gaze analysing hers, perhaps seeking any sign of weakness or shock.

He wouldn’t find any.

Y/N held her chin high and retorted, “Just like you.”

“Are you ready for what needs to be done?” Geto asked, moving to stand beside her, while Miguel shirked away into the shadows.

“Are you?”

Her brother breathed out a laugh from his nostrils, a sly grin forming as the corner of his lip curled upwards. “Excellent.”

-•-

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[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

The Most Impossible Battle

Pairing: Young Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: soft dubcon, NSFW, gradual consent, rough sex

Words: 3020

Summary: Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

By the Gods Robert, have mercy on the girl.” Ned pleaded but was immediately shut up by Robert’s roaring voice.

“Mercy?! MERCY?! Did that Targaryen whore’s brother show your sister mercy when he raped her?!! The Targaryen don’t deserve mercy Ned!” Young and callous, Robert Baratheon’s beautiful blue eyes were now tainted with his fury and anger. He stood a few inches higher above the his Stark brother. Even with that fact, Ned refused to stand down on the matter.

With a stone face, he goes on “Her brother is to blame. She has done nothing wrong.”

That made Robert scoff. “Except let the others escape. She’s fully aware of her family’s guilt. Have you so quickly forgotten what her father had done to your brother and father? The whole family is taint and should be eradicated.”

Yes, young (y/n) Targaryen had made sure her younger siblings were well out of harms way. At the moment she had been captured she had sent her younger brother Viserys and newborn sister Daenerys away on a cargo ship. To where, she refused to say. Brave, Ned admired that much about the girl. In that moment he was reminded so much of Lyanna. Brave, beautiful and stubborn.

Ned couldn’t let Robert execute her. He didn’t want anymore blood shed thanks to this stupid war.

He gives Jon Arryn a sideways glance, asking for his help. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, purses his lips together for a moment. “Think rationally Robert.” The older man did always have a way in reining him in. Both men viewed him as a surrogate father and in that aspect resonated a great deal of respect. “Even though there were a great deal of people who hated Aerys, there an even greater many who loved Rhaegar and (y/n). Those supporters are already upset at the death of Rhaegar, as deserving as it was. But (y/n)? She’s but a sweet maid who has done nothing. Those families might do something hasty if you were to execute her.”

“Then I’ll kill them. I’m king now and if a see someone that isn’t obedient I can surely have them executed. The whole lot of those Targaryen loving scum.” Spitting he stomps over to a large window to look over his new dominion of King’s Landing. Hands splayed on the windowsill he glares out over the city.

“Be reasonable Robert.” Jon tries again. “That will just earn you more resentment from the people you now govern. Otherwise you’d be just like Aerys.”

That made Robert’s broad shoulders go rigid. The last thing he wanted was to be compared to the Targaryen king. No, he didn’t want to be anything like Aerys. “Then what do you suggest I do with the girl?”

The room was quiet for a moment, as if Jon was afraid to even say the solution. One encouraging look from Ned gave him the strength he needed. “Marry her.”

Ned gaped at the Arryn lord, he hadn’t been expecting that as a solution.

Robert spun on his heel, dark mane of hair flying as he did so. “Marry her? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Not as much as you have.” Jon speaks truthfully, staring down the young man who used to be his ward. “Think about it Robert. If you marry her, then those who still support the Targaryens will have no choice but to support you. She’s well loved among the people. That would give you good reception, having her as your bride.”

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrow. “No. Never. I will never marry her. It would be a disgrace upon the memory of Lyanna. Lyanna was who I was supposed to marry. And now because of that Targaryen bastard, she’s dead.”

“What’s done is done Robert. You cannot turn back time. But you can attempt to move on.” He tries to sound a little sympathetic. Robert had been deeply in love with Lyanna, but even Jon Arryn knew that his love only ran so deep. It hadn’t stopped Robert from sleeping with dozens of other women.

Sighing, Ned places a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “He’s right. You’re king now. You must do things that you don’t necessarily want to do. Keeping the peace by marrying her… It needs to be done Robert. There is still unrest all throughout Westeros. Her father and brother may have been bastards, but she was beloved by all the realms. It would do you good.”

“Damn you Ned. Damn you and your sensible words.”

*

Were they okay? You hoped Viserys didn’t lose his temper with the newborn Daenerys.

Your fingers made circles in the dirt that you called your bed.

They should be safely out in the open water. People would have a hard time finding that ship.

Fear and worry and the echo of Viserys pleading with you to go with them. But there wasn’t any time. Not for you at least. You had to delay Robert’s soldiers. That was the only way that the ship would be able to leave the port in time. Daenerys’ shrill cries still haunted you as you stared at the walls of your cell. You never thought in a million years that you would wind up there, in the dungeons of your ancestors.

You didn’t know what would be worse, you rotting away in the dungeon or Robert Baratheon having you executed. You understood why all this had happened, you weren’t that much of a naive girl. True you had been sheltered most of your life, you knew how the world worked. Your brother had been a fool. It was his fault for stealing the Stark girl although you didn’t believe one bit that he had raped her. That was not in Rhaegar’s nature. Neither was war. Now you were paying for the price of it. You knew that if the soldiers had caught Viserys he would have been as good as dead. He posed a threat to the usurper as now being the next in line for the Iron Throne. The last male heir of Aerys. What would your fate be?

You hadn’t anticipated marriage being an option.

Guards had dragged you out of your cell, filthy and stumbling as your eyes tried to adjust to the bright light that suddenly blinded you. You were lead to the reception hall that was once filled with the skulls of your family’s dragons. There in the back, commanding authority was the Iron Throne. On it now sat an imposing Robert Baratheon. It was an odd sight for you, seeing a man that wasn’t your insane father on the throne. One that lacked the Targaryen violet eyes and snow white hair. Robert’s thick hair clashed against your own; violently dark opposed to your gentle silver tresses. He looked every part of king, much more than your father did. During the last few years, Aerys’ body had begun to deteriorate greatly as his body thinned and became frail. Not Robert. His body was taught with muscle, ready to strike. His thick beard betrayed his young age, making him look so much more older than you knew he was. The new King of Westeros.

You had thought you were there to hear your death sentence. What came out of the stag king’s mouth nearly made you lose balance.

“I will take you as my queen. You have no say in the matter and will act accordingly unless you want to meet the same fate as your brother and father.” Stating with no compassion in his heart, rich blue eyes glare at you. “It seems fitting since he took my bride away.”

Opening your mouth you realize you didn’t know what to say. Surely you could oppose but what would that do to help you? From his voice it was clear that the last thing he wanted to do was marry you. The feeling was very much mutual. Even though your brother had been an idiot and had been in the wrong, you still hated Robert for killing him. You realized you might want death rather than this. To have to bed the man that killed Rhaegar… It made you sick. Rhaegar was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Dozens of memories resurfaced that nearly had you weeping.

“I… I am to be your bride?” The words were laced with venom. “A usurper’s queen?”

If he hadn’t been perched on the throne you knew he would’ve slapped you. Instead you noticed the subtle whitening of his knuckles as he gripped at the throne. “Watch your tongue, whore. You should be grateful that I don’t crush your skull in with my hammer.”

Dragon fire flushed your face. “I would rather you do that than subject me than your disease ridden cock.”

There was a collective gasp in the hall. A beloved princess you were, but that didn’t mean you let people step over you. You were blood of the dragon after all.

“Your grace,” broke in a voice next to you. A solemn looking man took to your side. The sigil of a direwolf displayed proudly on his vest. “Please, I know this must be difficult for you but it is the best course of action for you to take. You’ll still have your life and your people.”

“And what of my respect? My dignity? I lose all that to the Baratheon usurper.”

In a more hushed tone, the young Stark lord bends a bit to whisper in your ear. “I promise to you, if you go through with this I’ll make sure your siblings remain safe. To the old Gods and the new, I swear that they won’t be harmed.”

You soften. The Starks kept good to their word, everyone knew that. How could you say no when it ensured the safety of your siblings?

“Okay… Okay.”

*

By the Gods she was beautiful. Disgustingly beautiful with her Targaryen traits. Robert hated it. Hated her and her entire family. But he couldn’t deny her beauty. Especially when she stood there in front of him, her Targaryen cloak around her shoulders about to be replaced by the Baratheon yellow and black. She looked every bit a queen should. Full pouting lips, dark eyelashes that kissed at her cheeks when she fluttered her eyelids. The trail of her neck that led down to a prominent collar bone (probably from having been denied food for days).

It should have been Lyanna there in her place. Jon Arryn was right in one thing though, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t dream of mending the past. Nothing would bring Lyanna back to him. Robert would take Rhaegar’s sister as retribution; watch the fallen prince turn in his grave as he married her.

Robert couldn’t deny his immense attraction to her though. More so now that she stood in front of them in their wedding chambers. The Bedding Ceremony was about to commence. Violet eyes hold onto blue as she stands her ground.

“Turn around.” He growls out. “I don’t want to look at your face.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” She hisses back and turns around. Her silver hair had been done so meticulously in luscious braids and curls that even Robert couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hair. Catching himself, he gives it a good yank making her suck in breath at the pain. His other hand goes to the laces on the back of her dress, easily ripping them to reveal her flawless, bare, back. Such beautiful skin. Robert’s fingers glide along her back before tearing off the rest of her dress so that it pooled around her feet. (y/n) continues to stand tall with her back straight. Grabbing the back of her neck, Robert bends her over the bed so that her face was pressed into the mattress; her small hands curled tightly into the silken bedsheets. Preparing for whatever Robert had planned for her. Surely she must know what he would do. Treat her as harshly as Rhaegar must have treated Lyanna. His thick thigh pushes her legs apart and Robert nearly sighs at the sight. The sight of her exposed and bent over was enough for him to salivate over. What a beautiful cunt she had. Possibly the most beautiful he had seen. He wanted to run his tongue along her slit and taste her.

(y/n) struggled slightly to move her face into a better position for her to breathe. As she did so she unconsciously wiggled her ass, an ass that begged for a smack.

That’s just what he did. Reeling his hand back and smacking her ass. “Stay still.” A vivid red handprint starts to bloom on her rear. His large hand grabs her pussy and with his fingers spreads her lower lips apart in preparation for his cock. He was a little bit too excited to fuck her. He shouldn’t have felt the thrill of it rush through him. In the end he was just as weak as any other man. As much as he wanted to be rough, he also wanted to enjoy it. Ever so slowly he pushes his cock inside of her inch by inch. Each slow movement of him entering her made (y/n) tremble and dare he say, even moan a little bit. Finally he was completely sheathed inside of her. Robert let his head roll back, eyes closing at the sublime feeling of her wonderful cunt. It was unlike anything else he had felt before. And he had fucked many maidens. Many virgins as well. None had felt quite so good though. His pace was slow at first, enjoying each contraction her cunt made as he slid his cock in and out. Using his hands, he tilted her hips up even more and hitting the right place, (y/n) lets out a shaky moan. It made him pick up the pace and pound into her. The sound of his pelvis smacking against her ass as he went balls deep into her was maddening.

“Fuck.” His deep voice groans out. He wanted to see her face. Wanted to see her tits as he fucked her senselessly. With such ease he flips her onto her back. (y/n)’s face was incredibly red now that she faced him. She was trying to glare at him but once Robert slid back into her, her eyes rolled back into her head. Crying out as he rammed into her over and over again, so much so that it made her tits bounce. Robert wraps his fingers around her slender neck putting the slightest pressure; tightening his grip little by little.

*

Fuck

Fuck

FUCK

It was becoming hard to breathe but that was the least of your worries. The sight of Robert, his barrel chest and taught abs fucking you was too much to bear. Hard lines of his muscles twitching as he tightened his fingers around your neck.

Why did it feel so good? He was basically fucking you like a whore. You were a pureblood Targaryen and deserved better. But you found yourself enjoying his harsh treatment. You wanted him to get rougher. You wanted him to pound harder into you so that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Head becoming light and warm, something else was happening. You felt a tightening below. The more he fucked you, the tighter the coil seemed to get until…

No. You didn’t want to be the first one to come undone. You didn’t want him to know that you were actually enjoying it. At the rate he was going though it was only a matter of time.

To take back control you launched yourself at him, catching him by surprise and his hand releasing from your neck. With your surprise attack you wrestle him so that he was now the one under you on the bed. His cheeks are red, eyes hard as he regards you with question. His about to protest until you sit yourself down on his cock. Protest devolving into a groan he lets his head fall onto the mattress as you roll your hips. You place your hands on his hard chest. Bobbing up and down his cock you try to ignore your cunt begging for release. Curling your fingers, you dig your nails into his chest and drag them harshly down. His face scrunches up, baring his teeth and hissing. Hands reaching around you to grab at your ass, he pulls you quickly up and down. You wouldn’t allow him to be in control for too long though. Again you dig your nails and drag them. Robert releases your ass and glares up at you. Beautiful blue eyes. Your own little hands reach to his thick neck and tighten like claws of a hawk. Using that as support you lift yourself off of his engorged member and start to tease the head of his cock. Slowly, torturously slow, you barely sit down enough for the head to be sheathed before coming back up. Your husband growls impatiently, wanting you to go back to riding his cock. You’re just buying yourself more time and shortening his. That’s when you sit all the way down on his cock. His mouth gapes open as you ride him. His breathing become hard, his hips desperately thrusting to match you.

You feel his body lock up underneath you as he lets out a loud groan.

The two of you were frozen in that position, trying to regain your breath. You had won. At least this battle. A bit unsteadily you lift yourself off of him; something warm and wet dribbling out. Smuggly you lay down beside him and stare at the ceiling, the space between your legs upset with you that you denied yourself your own orgasm.

“Well fuck.” Robert pants. Lazily he turns his head. “You didn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t dare grant you that satisfaction.” You roll away from him and onto your side.

Determined to prove you wrong, Robert’s hand lands on your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. “Fuck that noise. I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’ll see stars.”

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf fandom #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones reader insert #got fandom #got fanfic #got fanfiction #robert baratheon fanfiction #robert baratheon fanfic #robert baratheon x reader

[queer-geordie-nerd]

“But the Nazis killed other groups other than Jews, you know.”

Yes. Yes, they did. And those atrocities should never be forgotten. But any discussion on Nazism or the Holocaust that doesn’t centre Jewish suffering is woefully incomplete - total historical revisionism at best, willful and deliberate antisemitism at worst.

Every single action the Nazis took, every single human being they killed, was in service to their ultimate goal - the total eradication of Jewish life from the earth. Every single thing the Nazis thought wrong with the world, every single person of every single group they hated, they did so because they believed it was connected to Jewishness, and therefore, evil.

Look, I’m a disabled, ND, queer woman - hardly the epitome of a Nazi ideal - and the bigotries against these groups is an important issue to address and worthy fights to have, and the suffering of these and other peoples in the Holocaust *was* a crime of massive proportions.

But the scale of the loss for the Jewish people is unbearable and unimaginable - TWO THIRDS of the ENTIRE Jewish population of Europe wiped out - to this day, their population numbers have never recovered, almost a century later. That loss is incalculable. Jews make up 0.2% of the world population - 15 MILLION people out of 8 BILLION.

So, next time you feel the need to go “but, but what about…?” or attempt to downplay or deny the undisputable historical facts, just really take a minute and be quiet instead.

#holocaust #antisemitism

[artful-aries]

I’m absolutely the type of person to smile and wave back at Dottore as he sails away in a boat, completely forgetting that he’s supposed to be the villain. Totally not true story no no

Short scenario please? :3

My lovely anon, here is your request finally. This was soooooo fun to write.

Content Warnings: None really, but Dottore is a little bit condescending and also thinks you’re crazy for majority of this fic

​​Prosaic Introductions - Dottore x Reader

​​​Though he is not a conventional man, or even a conventional human being for that matter, Dottore sees this as a tool for his benefit. In fact, it is an aspect that he prides himself on, not being like the rest of the weak minded fools of this world. Their eyes might as well be sewn shut for the amount of good their vision does them. The people of Teyvat are, in large, utterly pathetic and small minded, unable to see the bigger picture. Their faces blur in his mind, day after day after day, they come and go from his presence, nothing more than dust in the air to him, filling space.

​​

​​And yet, there was you, a common citizen of Snezhnaya that for some reason stood out among the rest. It was a fact that Dottore truly detested. He had no time nor purpose for this…fixation he had on you, yet thoughts of you nestled in his brain like a cockroach, multiplying in intensity and difficult to eradicate. What was it about your quotidian life that drew his attention?

​​

​​It started when he had the unfortunate luck of meeting you by happenstance. He had been running an errand for one of his experiments; a task normally assigned to his assistants, had he not experimented on and terminated them all due to their lack of basic capability. You had bumped into him on accident at a Snezhnayan market, the blithering fool you were.

​​

​​Dottore looked down at you, his expression clouded by his mask but the edge of his mouth tapered downward, the only visible sign of his displeasure. Ordinarily when people saw a Harbinger, let alone The Doctor, they made sure to make their presence scarce if they could.

​​

​​But not you.

​​

​​You blinked in surprise, as if you weren’t the one who had just run into him before smiling brightly, “Oh, sorry! My head must have been in the clouds, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry for running into you.”

​​

​​Your demeanor was so bright and cheery, Dottore wondered if there was something wrong with you. Did you not know who he was? He doubted that very much. There wasn’t anyone in Snezhnaya who didn’t know who the Harbingers were. Perhaps this was your way of trying to deflect any wrath he might bring for running into him. Most people tried appealing to him through politeness, and you were likely no different. It was a useless gesture; he had better things to do with his time than be concerned with the apologies of ordinary people.

​​

​​“Think nothing of it,” Dottore replied quickly, not having the time or energy for this social exchange. If he had been in a bad mood, he might have been more vicious, but at the moment he simply wanted to get the supplies he needed for his research and resume his experiments.

​​

​​You clearly had other plans in mind, as you continued talking to him as though he were an acquaintance of yours, “The snow is so thick today, its a wonder how I didn’t get frostbite on the way here. What brings you out in this weather?”

​​

​​Dottore paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Why were you talking to him? Surely there was a reason for it, as it seemed highly unlikely that you would simply just…strike up conversation with a Harbinger on a whim. What was your goal? Did you have an ulterior motive, or did you happen to leave your sense in the clouds you had just lost yourself in?

​​

​​He blinked slowly at you behind his mask before he replied bluntly, “Gathering materials for research. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

​​

​​He had quickly left, ending his first encounter with you as abruptly as it had started. Yet now, weeks after the exchange he found himself thinking about it, about you, more and more. You were strange, that was for certain. Dottore wondered what it was that made you tick, what drove your actions that day. Was it for a chance at political gain? Were you somehow a spy, or perhaps you had some other plot planned, one that he could not predict. Each possibility seemed as unlikely as the next, and yet, the thing that puzzled Dottore the most was why he cared so much in the first place. What did it matter what your intentions were, he was likely not going to ever see you again.

​​

​​And yet there you were again in his line of sight today, as though you had been summoned by his mere desire to observe you closely. Dottore hadn’t regretted terminating his useless assistants, but now he was almost grateful he had done it. Having to leave his laboratory for supplies presented him with this opportunity to study you more.

​​

​​He watched from a distance as you argued with some fellow. Dottore hypothesized that he might be a jilted lover, or perhaps he was merely a friend whom you were having a dispute with, or even a complete stranger. Whatever the reason for the argument, Dottore did not care; he was far more fascinated by watching how you reacted to the stimuli. The way your brows furrowed, the downward curve of your mouth as you frowned, the faint redness reaching your cheeks out of anger, it was all useful data in determining what kind of person you were. You seemed to wear your heart in your sleeve, for better or for worse, and it was an idea that amused Dottore as he watched you argue with the man in front of you. People easy to read were easy people to manipulate, but he stood to gain nothing from expending the effort. Watching you brought him a strange sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t explain.

​​

​​Dottore was about to walk away, satisfied with the new observations he was able to make of you, but he noticed a shift in the argument, especially coming from the man. Whoever he was, he was becoming increasingly agitated with you, a fact that you seemed to pick up on as your body grew tense. Strange, so you could be perceptive of others after all, when you wanted to be. Part of Dottore wanted to sit back and watch what would unfold; if things were to escalate into a physical fight, he wanted to see what you would say, what you do. The idea was thrilling to him, having the opportunity to see you backed into a corner, to see your survival instincts take over, to see what you would look like when you were terrified. Yet, strangely enough he felt his body moving towards you despite these compulsions.

​​

​​Before he knew it, he was standing next to you and placing a hand on your shoulder, “You seem to have a knack for talking to the wrong people, don’t you?”

​​

​​Your eyes practically lit up as you looked up at him, a sight that confused Dottore. Were you…happy to see him? Considering your argument with the man in front of you, he figured that would be a valid reaction.

​​

​​“Oh, it’s you!” You breathed with relief as you broke out in a grin, “It’s nice to see you again.”

​​

​​The man you were arguing with, upon seeing you act so casually with an infamous Fatui Harbinger, scurried off without a word. Whatever your argument had been about, it was clearly no longer worth the effort to him. This made Dottore chuckle to himself slightly. So his reputation did precede him. In that case, why was it that you didn’t seem to have the same reaction as him?

​​

​​He removed his hand from your shoulder as he replied, “Most would not be so keen on seeing a Fatui Harbinger.”

​​

​​To his surprise, you didn’t flinch or sound shocked at all about him mentioning his status. That ruled out the possibility that you simply just didn’t know, and made you a far more interesting specimen in Dottore’s eyes. You simply shrugged, “Sure you have a scary, super important job, but you seem nice.”

​​

​​Dottore had been described as many things in his life, and nice was not one of them. It baffled him that you could come to such a conclusion after only seeing him twice, yet you picked up quickly on the antagonistic feelings of the man you argued with before. Truly, the depth of your perception was skewed, and it made him want to know more.

​​

​​You took his stunned silence as him expecting something, and cleared your throat as you introduced yourself, “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to have you engage in conversation this time.”

​​

​​(Y/N). What an incredibly ordinary name, contradictory to the constant perplexity you threw him into. You were odd, and more and more Dottore found himself wanting to analyze you, to find the root of your oddities and mannerisms.

​​

​​You nudged him, an action that took him by surprise as he blinked at you- not that you could tell behind his mask. “Well? Are you going to introduce yourself?”

​​

​​Dottore let out a small chuckle at your insistence, what was left for him to introduce? Everyone in Snezhnaya knew who he was, moreover, what he was capable of. Still, he humored you as he replied, “You may call me Dottore, if it pleases you.”

​​

​​Your face lit up, clearly satisfied with his answer, “Thanks for helping me, Dottore. That guy was a jerk,” You seemed to get nervous for a moment as you looked down at your feet, shuffling them in the snow before looking back up to ask him, “Can I count on seeing you around more often?”

​​

​​You looked almost…hopeful, like you wanted to see him more. How strange you were, almost insisting on seeing a man who you knew wrought much turmoil and bloodshed as much for his own purposes as well as the Tsaritsa’s. Clearly, your psyche was different from most, if not altogether damaged. It was fascinating to him that he couldn’t predict what you would say or do. You seemed to operate outside most conventions, much like himself.

​​

​���“Perhaps,” Dottore finally answered, but chose not to elaborate further as he continued to be on his way, leaving you confused at his response. He smirked to himself at the thought, how nice it was to make you the confused one. Despite his ambiguity, he had every intention of seeing you again. He just had to know more; to study you, to break you down and build you back up, to figuratively dissect you until he mastered your inner workings and understood your quirks. You were his captivating little side project, and he couldn’t wait to begin his research on you.

​​

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #anon asks #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #dottore #dottore x reader #Il Dottore

[desertsandsnstarrysky]

I think I’m gonna take a long break on here, it’s been real but I’m absolutely just totally done with the antisemitism…

I’m throughly disappointed with humanity…

I don’t not want Palestinians dead…I don’t want anyone dead to be quite honest!

And I also do not want fellow Jews to die as well !

MOST OF YOU You pro Palestinians are NOT FOR PEACE…( keyword most)

You want Jews dead… and THATS NOT OKAY!!!

Zionist or not!

And when you literally start telling them to kill themselves “kys” end your life and all that, you are just as equal to a murderer… by condoning this behavior!

Or talking about destruction of Israel as if the lives there that live deserve to die … WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!

You realize Israel is a whole fucking country, a region full of individuals, human beings that live there! Different hearts and minds, different thoughts, feelings, etc!

So when you say they need to destroyed, bombed, eradicated, deconstructed, or anything like that you are talking about basically wanting to kill all who live there!

When you tell ANY JEWISH PERSON TO DIE, you are not FOR PEACE! No, You are a piece of shit!

You are a Nazi, point blank if you want the country of Israel to be destroyed… end of discussion!

And honestly do not call yourself a person for peace if you talk like that… it’s absolutely antisemitic and garbage!

Both sides suffer from this war! Both Palestinian civilians and Israeli and everyone else who lives there And ALWAYS HAVE!!!

Stop using fucking lizard brain logic and realize both sides are SUFFERING!

This isn’t fucking red vs. blue team games!

It’s not a fucking soccer game and we’re keeping score, all of the people matter in this!! Every single life!!!

#stop being fucking antisemitic #yikes for being antisemitic #currently trying to fight antisemitism #antisemitism #antisemitic #jumblr #jewish tumblr #i want peace #every life is precious #stop talking about decolonizing Israel

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hunting Party announcement!

okay maybe this isn’t the oneshot I promised but it’s gonna be good I promise-

SO! As of recent, I finished up the revised outline to The Sea Prince’s act one, named Hunting Party! The plot has a lot more going on and I’m in love with this story so much more. This means sooner or later the prologue will come out! As soon as it does, we’ll come to the next important thing;

Beta readers!

Preferably, I’d want three! I have one already, so two more would be great!

What do beta readers do?

They help give feedback and act as a sort of test audience! I’ll need it with all the things packed into this storyline ehehe. There’s a lot in store! I’d want to make sure I’m giving off the right impression with my writing and the like.

I will give the summary of The Sea Prince (and Act One!) under the cut, and as a treat, here is a doodle I’ve made of Act Two Scott and Martyn, they get little changes in their designs <3

There’s one doodle under the cut that has blood (it isn’t red, but blood is blood!) so here’s your warning for it!

THE SEA PRINCE.

In a world full of deadly, man-eating sea monsters there are specialized teams of people who’s job and legacy is to eradicate the horrors of the deep. Monster hunters, hunters for short, are funded by guilds to personal employers to seek out the dangerous beasts and let the sea live in a peaceful, monster-free environment for the animals and humans to thrive.

A notorious hunter group, the Canaries, are led by brothers Joel and Grian Solidarity and are personally funded by His Royal Majesty as one of the best hunters the kingdom has to offer. Such luxuries give them the access to powerful weapons and a rivalry with the best naval commanders, known as TIES. These two groups are summoned to a meeting as the King sends them on their most daring commission yet; find and capture a sea prince.

Sea Princes are, by nature, mythological. They don’t exist. They’re hunter stories meant to scare children and keep the population from wanting to explore the seas, if not for the very real monsters that infest the waters. Capturing one, not to mention proving they exist would be a challenge. This is the King they were working under though, and if he says to find a sea prince and capture it, they’ll do it. Besides, if they were able to, they would be put down in the history books.

Martyn always believed they existed. A child born from hunters, stories about their bloody past and murderous rage haunts and excites him. From the god-like treasure they hide underneath the waves to the feuding war against the mermaids, he’s made it his goal to kill a sea prince. It’s what he wants the most after all.

Well. There was also Scott.

Scott Major is a beautiful man who works in a tavern, never in his life has he been out to sea. Martyn swears to him that once his life goal is complete, he’ll stay. The call of the sea is somehow always there, as if it was right in front of him. Martyn risks his life every single moment he boards the ship, but he always comes back in one piece. He has to.

He can’t risk losing Scott too.

ACT ONE: HUNTING PARTY.

Being sent on a mission to capture a sea prince, the Canaries and TIES form a bet; whoever finds evidence of a prince first can lead the mission. Agreeing under pride, they set out. Martyn has his heart set on fulfilling his dream, but it doesn’t look like Scott is too thrilled with the idea. He’ll understand.

What the hunters don’t know is that their goal charters out of their control and they are forced to seek refuge on an island everyone believes to be cursed. The Scarlet Witch haunts the isle, and every hunting ship that enters will never exit.

They’ll be the first to prove that wrong.

Elements/ general themes the story will contain;

- Nightmares

- Sea horror (monsters attacking ships, fear of the ocean, those types of things)

- fights and injuries (they bleed!)

- character death

- slow burn. really slow burn but a lot of flirting and sweet moments between the two

- worldbuilding

- found family

- there’s likely more to which I’ll add unto!

This story has become a very big passion of mine and I’d love to be able to tell this with the most clarity and enjoyment I can provide! If you’re interested in becoming a beta, I’d like you to comment under the post or reblog it to why you’d want to beta read it and the like :D it’s not a first come first serve basis and it will be open until I finish the prologue, which is in about a week or two from now. Goodluck in applying! I and @mewhoismyself are going to look through what you guys got, but no pressure, seriously! <3

With the beta readers and synopsis out of the way, here’s some sneak peeks to the next batch of designs along with some sketches I made for Act One! I wonder if you can figure out the context behind those words ;)

Just some minor changes with Martyn and Scott! Scott’s hair is more red tinted and darker so he’s more ginger, while Martyn is more clean-shaven! Maybe he has some stubble the next time I sketch him, but he looks more youthful here! I also realize that these are all the winners, but it does make sense with how important they are to the story :0!

Now, unto the designs! Can you guess who’s who?

Super excited to finish this batch and work on their lore; I’ll finish this before the prologue!

And that’s all i got for now, I hope you’re all just as excited as I am as the project gets to come to life after all these months. Act One is coming soon!

#the sea prince au #limited life #limited life smp #life smp #life series #trafficblr #traffic series #scott smajor #smajor1995 #smajor fanart #dangthatsalongname #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #pearlescentmoon #grian

[mirobami]

How about a reader who is from the rival family of the momobami clan. The reader is extremely smart and better than everyone in the momobami clan, but she has no interest in standing up to them. Please

↳ better yet withdrawn

♥ GENRE: sfw.

♥ CHARACTER(S): bami clan.

♥ SYNOPSIS: in request!

♥ NOTE: this one was interesting i had to write it

The L/N clan, known by the Bami clan as their enemies, was nothing more than a simplified version of them. While the Bami Clan had separate branches for a variety of areas, the L/N Clan depended on a single heir. The heir was picked in each generation through a ritual. The ritual would be done on each child in order to make it fair. The child chosen would be called the Superior and the others would get to be normal.

With the newest generation, Y/N had been chosen to be the Superior. She had heard about the Superior’s training. It was extremely rigorous and an arduous process. Her curriculum differed from everyone else’s, with more subjects. The textbooks grew heavier with each passing year. However, she had been conditioned to take in all this knowledge and keep it with her. Once, she had asked what was the purpose of all this.

“In case you are ever forced into something, you have what you need.” 

She didn’t understand. Years later, she’d be entering the prestigious Hyakkaou Academy. She already knew the reputation of this school and how to gain it. Through gambling, she’d make a place for herself, only to be safe. She knew that as long as she was safe in this school, she could continue her studies. What she hadn’t known was that she entered right as the school was in pandemonium with an election. Somehow, the second she walked in, she could sense more than that in the air.

Terano had been wheeled past her, her eyes closed as she strategized her next move against Kirari. But something lured her into turning around. When she whipped her head around, she saw her enemy standing there with a blank face and curious eyes. This was the girl that her family had said needed to be eliminated on the spot. The entire clan agreed to set aside their differences when the time came to eradicate her. “You.”

Y/N tilted her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”

“Don’t act stupid. You know exactly who I am.” Terano had no patience for her, she needed to warn the others. If Y/N was here, it meant that everything they had ever worked for would come crashing down around them. “You’re the one taking everything from us.”

“I’m not sure how that’s possible, I have been studying all this time. If you’ll excuse me.”

That was how future interactions went with the Bami Clan. Terano had notified the rest of them that she was here. Tension ran amidst the clan and it was not, for the first time, directed at one another. They needed to get rid of her quickly. The first person to try was Miyo. She had tried to subtly poison Y/N, just like she had with Yumeko. But Y/N raised an eyebrow at her, sniffed, and said, “You have poison on you right now. Please do not get near me.”

The next person to attempt was Rin. He had asked her to gamble, but she declined, reading her book. When he looked at the cover, it was something about philosophy. Her, reading about morals? That was impossible. He asked one more time and Y/N sighed. “No, thank you. I will not gamble with you. I am asking you to leave.”

It was a fruitless attempt each time. The clan members were all getting paranoid and twitchy, thinking that at any moment, she might poison them or manipulate them into handing over their heirship. The rest of the school could see how they bristled at the sight of Y/N, who hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she was staying right in the middle of the pack, almost under the radar but not enough so that the clan wouldn’t detect her. She found out what was wrong and why the clan hated her so much, not to mention piecing together the reason as to the ritual. She was the person that could defeat them with a single blow. They were terrified of that. If she stood up to them and helped out the school, they would have no choice but to back down.

Kirari had said that she’d take care of things. This was why she had Y/N right in front of her. “You and I have some things to talk about.”

“Really? I don’t recall doing anything wrong.”

“Our families are in dispute. You are more than capable of destroying our family. We are here to--”

Y/N let out a long, loud sigh of exasperation. She had set her bag down on the floor, crossing her arms as she leaned back against her chair. “Let me put this in a language you all can understand, because I know this message will be passed along. I. Do. Not. Care.”

Kirari blinked. The words were rude, but the tone was something different. She didn’t care about the family dispute? Or was it that she didn’t care about Kirari’s words? “Listen to me--”

“No, you listen to me. Your family has been trying to get me to do things that I don’t want to do. Miyo tried to poison me, Rin tried to get me to gamble and I’ve heard enough things about him, Terano attempted to coerce me into handing over a property of mine, everyone has tried to eliminate me or get me out of this school. I don’t care about the dispute. Frankly, I don’t care about the election either, I don’t want to be president.”

“Are you aware that you’re something of a martyr to the other students?”

Scoffing, she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “I’m not dead yet. I have not been swallowed or devoured in your aquarium of torture. They are putting their faith in the wrong person because I don’t care about this rivalry. Future generations can continue, but for me? I don’t plan on standing against you guys. Do what you want. Just let me study, it’s hard enough to get some quiet around here and I have to deal with interruptions?’ Y/N stood up and grabbed her bag, making her way out before she turned around. “By the way, your best strategy against Terano is not what you think it is.”

Kirari sat down, before getting back up to go to her aquarium. There, she saw an isolated fish wandering around. The other fish seemed to move away from it, some daring to get close before darting off once more. No matter how many times this happened, the fish didn’t do anything. It was docile, seemingly indifferent to what was happening. Kirari smiled. She was an interesting person, to say the least. She couldn’t wait to see what more she could bring to the table.

#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x y/n #kakegurui x you #kirari momobami x reader #ririka momobami x reader #rei batsubami x reader #rin obami x reader #ibara obami x reader #miyo inbami x reader #terano totobami x reader #miroslava honebami x reader #sumika warakubami x reader

[rivalriotrenegade]

Nikto x Reader

@oleworldblues Saw your post saying there needs to be more Nikto content and I got you! So hope you like this, it's not the best but it's what I got!

Side Note: Nikto has a form of D.I.D and often refers to himself as “we” which is why it’s written like that in the story.

About: Nikto x GN reader. This one was written in about 20 minutes and edited in 5 so it’s kind of sloppy, but still sweet. Not my best work lol. The story is just you calling him pretty. Also the use of “Andre” which is going to be his actual name in the story. 

Warnings: CHEEEEEEEESY to the MAX! Also some slightly toxic behaviors. Nikto went through a lot and hurt people hurt people, but basically he tries to use his height to ever so slightly intimidate reader for like .05 seconds. Also descriptions of kissing? Is that a warning? 

Summary: Nikto does not think he’s beautiful, if anything he thinks he’s the exact opposite. It had taken well over a year of dating before he was comfortable enough to show you his face. After seeing him maskless for the first time you began to call him “My pretty boy” He hated it at first. Honestly he thinks you’re trying to be cruel. After a while of bottling it up he finally explodes. 

It was about 10:30 at night and you're just starting to make some late night spaghetti. You knew he had a rough few weeks with KorTac and thought it’d be nice for him to have a home cooked meal. You had just put the hamburger into the sauce and realized you needed something to stir it with. “Hey pretty boy, can you pass me the spatula?” You ask.

You're caught off guard when Nikto, who had been quiet most of the night, suddenly explodes. “Don’t call me that! I am not pretty!” He snarls. You cock your head to the side not sure where all this anger is coming from. “But I think you’re pretty. Are you telling me that my opinion is wrong?” You question. 

“You’re lying! You’re lying! Do NOT lie to us!” He hisses, stepping into your space caging you between him and the counter, purposely looming over you, trying to make you back down. His eyes are wide, wild. He’s looking at you like he doesn’t know you. Your own eyes soften. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. “Oh Andre.” You say slowly reaching up to cup his face. Nikto flinches back slightly before letting you touch him. You gently caress his face. “I’m not lying. Have I ever lied to you?” You ask.

Nikto hesitates for a moment taking deep breaths trying to ground himself before whispering out a hoarse “no.” He pauses before continuing his voice cracking, “But I can’t be pretty.” You cradle his face in your hands and carefully pull him down so you’re almost eye to eye. “But you are.” You say. “You are the most beautiful person I know. You have gone through some horrible things and you survived. To me these scars are proof of how strong you really are. There a reminder that you came back alive, so how could I think that they'd be anything less than beautiful?”

Nikto stares at you, his eyes unreadable. He stares at you until it’s just bordering in to the territory of being uncomfortable and then before you even know what was happening, he’s kissing you. Usually his kisses are rough and dominating, but this one is desperate. He’s kissing you like this is the last time he’ll ever see you. His hands grip at your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, determined to keep you there. 

He sucks on your bottom lip and when you part them he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He’d never admit it, but you swear you hear him whine against you. His movements are frantic, feverish. Like any space between the two of you needs to be all but eradicated. When he pulls back your both left breathless and panting.

He then pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck. “I love you.” He breaths. You smile, rubbing his back up and down to sooth him. “And I love you too, my pretty boy.” 

(You swear you feel him cling to you a little tighter)

#x reader #love #cod #COD x reader #Nikto x reader #KorTac x Reader #Price x reader #ghost x reader #Simon riley x reader #gaz x reader #monsters #comfort #hurt/comfort #cod mw2 #ghost cod #nikto cod #cod x reader #sweet #Pretty Boy #Nikto #violence #D.I.D

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // thirty-one

| @maladi777 | @izayoichan

INTERACTIVE POLL | Should Indryr use his [TRUTH SCROLL] on Duke Eldewyn? Voting to use the scroll will provide more information about the past history of the trials and those involved, however, there may be consequences from using such magic. Choose wisely. Vote now!

next / previous / beginning

INDRYR: A fascinating idea. There is a great deal of faith placed in lunar priests. Suppose if they should misdirect and say they have received visions they have not… No one would be any the wiser. ASTER: Now that I think of it, how does that whole heaven-to-earth pipeline work, anyhow? KYRIE: Quite ambiguously. Around the time of the Selenehelion, we begin receiving hazy visions. For my sister and I, it was always somewhat complicated. In general, there is only ever one lunar priest of age at any given time. However, because Alphanei and I were twins, our visions were often shared. It was suggested, once, that we conduct together, but I declined. Alphanei’s emotional investment in leading the ceremony seemed to strengthen her ties with the moon. My visions lessened, and hers became stronger. Only now that I’m leading myself do I feel an innate sense of connection to the Chosen. You were all strangers when I brought you here— I’d never heard nor met any of you before. But even before seeing you in the flesh, I felt as if we had known each other for years. INDRYR: And is there some consequence to you for not following the Moon’s vague instruction? KYRIE: I admit, I don’t know. A great part of me feels compelled. It’s hard to explain. Even when I sat aside and let my sister operate on her own, I felt overwhelmingly as if I was doing something wrong. I guess this connection we have, it’s something we’re born with, and impossible to eradicate. That being said, if we should act against that feeling… By that I mean, could a lunar priest have lied about the selected Ten? Yes. I think he could. LUCIEN: But wouldn’t that upset the goddess? KYRIE: Maybe. The truth is, I don’t hear her anymore than you. Divine sensation is just that: Sensation. If she were to punish me for going against her wishes, I can’t imagine what that might look like. Only, in our hearts, I suppose it would feel a bit like betraying someone… something… we love deeply. It would feel immoral. But… there’s nothing impossible about sinning. ELDEWYN: Fascinating, indeed. I never thought about it… Interesting creatures lunar priests! KYRIE: We’re not animals— ASTER: Well! How about that specialty brew you’ve been saving? ELDEWYN: Ah, yes! Let us retire to the parlor. We’ll be more comfortable there. KYRIE: If you don’t mind, I just need to step out a moment… ELDEWYN: Oh, of course, Your Grace. INDRYR: Are you feeling well, Your Grace? KYRIE: Yeah, it’s… I’m fine. INDRYR: Forgive my saying so, but you seem somewhat put-off. KYRIE: It’s alright. I don’t… mind. KYRIE: I think sometimes I feel a bit like a circus act… Maybe I am. INDRYR: Your gifts are unique. And specialness is strange, but not all of us think so shallowly. I understand perfectly well how it feels to be the odd piece out, but you’re no less part of the puzzle. You’ll find your place to fit, and it won’t be here with people like that. KYRIE: Thank you, Indryr, for saying so. INDRYR: No need to thank me. It’s simply what’s true. The Duke has a very… interesting perception. I wondered what sort of society might support the trials in their former iteration. Meeting him, well, it becomes clearer to me. KYRIE: I think there’d be more than a few happy to see the tradition return to the way it was. A sick sense of excitement… It doesn’t matter. I guess I’m more bothered by the idea that my predecessor might have been involved in what happened twenty years ago. You were right. If this was a cover up, the priest heading the ceremony must have allowed for it. INDRYR: I don’t think we can deny it anymore, Your Grace. KYRIE: No, but I do think there’s more to the story. Whether or not the Duke knows, is another question entirely. INDRYR: We could use the scroll? KYRIE: Yes, but it’s not without its risks. I suppose then we must decide… is it worth trying, regardless of the consequences?

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: aster songleaf #cc: indryr #oc: lucien aravae

[raineandsky]

this is the secret santa gift for @laffy-taffy-creations!

their prompt: "Hero that is a living weapon and past experiment, they run into Supervillain who taunts them calling them by their experiment name and Hero fighting to stay in control of their emotions so they don't accidentally cause any sort of diaster. Bonus points if there's someone (you pick) hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping, that part is optional though."

this was super fun, hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing!!

-

The hero’s hands had shook when the superhero announced their next assignment. When he’d placed a slim file in their hands, like they didn’t know the exact ins and outs of the place he was sending them to. There was a map on the front page that they didn't need.

The hero’s hands had shook as they meticulously unscrewed the little vent to shuffle their way inside. They’d been violated by the familiar stench of burning skin and cleaning chemicals, the sound of clanking metal and far-off, shrieking voices grating in their ears. Primal instinct had momentarily elbowed in front of duty, and they’d been halfway to abandoning the mission before remembering why they were here.

Let’s eradicate them. A small handwritten note left in the back of the hero’s file, as much of a kindness as an explicit push towards the superhero’s true goal. I think it’s what you deserve as much as they do.

The hero’s hands are shaking now, buried in the supervillain’s desk, as the office door clunks unlocked.

No one else but the supervillain could come in here really—the hero knows this—but their heart still sinks to see that it isn’t anyone else.

The supervillain pauses on the threshold, clearly reining in any blatant surprise before he speaks. He was always good at that—the only emotions he ever let them see was the disappointment of what they’d done wrong, or nothing at all.

“Q-5,” he says after a long moment, and the hero’s hands scrunch on paper at the name. “It is a delight to see you return to us.”

“That’s not my name,” the hero spits. Their voice trembles traitorously. “It’s [Hero] now.”

“Don’t be absurd.” The supervillain hums a laugh as he carefully closes the door behind him, like this is nothing more than a business meeting. “You are Q-5. No one gets to name you but me. You know this well, I’m sure.”

The hero does know this well. Any attempt of individuality here was met with an iron fist, quite literally. The relief of getting a name—a real, actual name—had been one of the biggest victories in their escape from this hell.

Hearing that so-called name again, that jumble of characters that mean nothing, that make them nothing, it’s– it’s—

The hero sucks down a long breath as the ceiling sprinkles dust over the room. Something deep in the building groans as if the hero’s tidal wave of emotion is boring it.

The supervillain’s gaze tilts to the shuddering pipes along the walls. Unbothered, vaguely amused.

“Q-5.” The supervillain’s voice is deceptively soft. It’s the tone of someone the hero’s about to want to be very far away from. They feel like a child again, an experiment slightly off canter, caught with their hand in the biscuit tin reserved for the scientists. “I see the power I gave you is strengthening.”

The supervillain takes a step closer and the hero takes one back without thinking. Their wrists bash painfully against the drawer in their haste.

Power. That’s all it is with the supervillain. Power, strength, violence. How can we make you better when you were such a mistake? How can I make you into who I intended? You came out wrong, but I can’t let another failure go to waste. How do I give you true power? Power. Power power power power power power—

A crack snaps its way into the floor underneath the supervillain. The hero heaves another unwilling breath. Control is difficult when their destruction is ruled by the lawless waves of emotion.

“I came here,” the hero says slowly, “to stop you.”

They grit their teeth, as if that will quell the quaking tightness in their chest. It doesn’t, not really, but at least the building stops shaking. The supervillain admires the gash underfoot like it’s a piece of art and not a consequence of what he created.

“I would love to see you try.” The supervillain smiles, the expression calculated. “Take whatever you’ve found. I’m sure it’ll be useful for your little mission.”

The hero falters, their gaze drawn to their hands. They didn’t realise that they’d held onto some of the papers in their rush to put space between them. The supervillain steps to the side to give the hero a straight escape to the door.

He’s letting them leave. It’s a trick. It’s a test. Will you try to get away from something that will never leave you no matter how far you run? Or will you accept that you belong here, as nothing more than a half-failed experiment and a muddle of uncontrollable feelings?

The hero takes a step towards the door. The supervillain doesn’t move. They take another. Another. Another.

The supervillain practically smirks when the hero gets to the door, like this is exactly what he planned. “Don’t think your departure now means you’re escaping, Q-5,” he says lightly. “I know you’ll be back. You cannot truly run from this place. From me.”

The building rumbles underfoot. Shouts rise distantly. The hero forces themself to stare him in the face as they forcibly stamp their flare of hatred down. Then they swing the door open to make their escape.

Someone stumbles into the office as the door she was leaning against abandons her. She quickly rights herself with an awkward clearing of her throat. 

“I was trying to find the source of the disturbances,” she explains hurriedly. “It seemed the worst of the earthquake was coming from here.”

The hero recognises her. A villain. Bright, eager, forever in the supervillain’s shadow. She probably thinks she’s safely detached from the supervillain’s insane experiments. The hero thought that too, once. It was only when he ran out of test subjects that he turned his interest to them.

The hero pushes past her before they can see any more of their lost self in her. The building rumbles in agreement as they mindlessly break for the exit. 

-

“This will be vitally useful, [Hero],” the superhero says with a smile when they lay the crumpled papers on his desk, “you’ve brought us a step closer to ending [Supervillain]’s reign. Thank you.”

The hero is just glad it’s over. 

But when the superhero approaches a week later, a file in his hand and a grim look on his face, the hero finds the floors shaking with revulsion under their feet.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #secret santa #laffy-taffy-creations #hope this is to your standard!! loved your ideaaaaaa #and merry crimmas to yall if you celebrate #i havent done a big secret santa event before this was super exciting #and you will see me doing it next year

[echoalyssa]

Omg I’m so sorry for some reason I automatically assume people know who I’m talking about 🤦🏼‍♀️ How about Marcus Baker x reader where she lives in another state and they met on like Instagram and one day she comes to see him?

ORRR (just to be safe😉😂)

Where her personality is like sunshine and rainbows so people are shocked that they’re together

Request 3 | Marcus Baker

You're gripping the steering wheel all too tight considering the road is empty and you've been driving for seven hours already.

Your comfort playlist plays through the speakers in an attempt to eradicate some of the nerves. You'd known him for a year, face-timed him every night for the past six months. He was real, you knew that much.

Though all those horror crime documentary's meant that somewhere deep down you were worried he might brutally murder you.

The two of you had met through a Instagram group chat for artists around the United States and had connected immediately. Your lives differed in every way possible.

You were from one of those small towns that barely made it onto the map with three siblings, and he was living in a million dollar house with his twin sister.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and its him.

'Hope the drive is going well! I'm excited to see you!'

You smile.

You're meeting him at a coffee shop in Wellsbury. It would be in broad daylight in a public place so not much could go wrong.

The navigation chimes, telling you to take the next exit.

Just like that, you're ten minutes away.

~~~ You take a breath outside of the door, using the slight reflection to check that your hair doesn't look insane. Your palms are sweating profusely so you have no choice but to wipe them on the front of your jeans.

You push the door open and the bell on top jingles softly.

The place is cute, with low ambience lighting and lounge chairs in the corner. There's plants just about everywhere and a mural has been painted on the far wall.

He spots you first, and he almost drops the two drinks he's holding. Marcus can't cross the small shop fast enough. He didn't even need a second to realize that it was you, he just knew immediately.

You shoot him a tiny shy smile and he returns it.

"Y/N!"

He wraps you in an awkward hug because he's still holding both drinks. Even though he's hugging you with his arms straight because of the drinks you can't help but think about how nicely you fit into his arms.

He smells good, like fresh linen.

His hair keeps falling into his face, and you keep wanting to push it out of the way for him.

"I got you a mocha frappe! I could have sworn that's what you told me you order but if that's wrong I can get you something else."

You're flattered by the fact that he bought you a drink and even more so that he remembered your order. That conversation must have taken place almost a year ago.

"That is perfect, thank you."

"Want to take a walk? You must be tired of sitting from the drive."

You nod, the weather in Massachusetts was stellar today.

He guides you out the door by placing a hand on the small of your back which sends sparks up your spine.

"I can't believe that you're here."

"I can't believe you're real."

He chuckles. "Are you cold?"

You're not really but he shrugs off his jacket anyway and drapes it over your shoulders.

His fingertips brush your neck and you shiver.

The town is cute but is very obviously a place where money is plentiful. Marcus tells you about his motorcycle and his plan to restore it.

You listen intently, your arm bumps against his as you walk.

He stops abruptly and turns to you.

"I feel like I know you already."

"You do! Now you're just putting a voice to the face,"

"I don't want you to ever go back home."

You can feel your face heat up, hopefully he wouldn't notice and would just think it was from the wind.

"You're just so far away." He continues, "And now that you're here I can't imagine you not being here."

Just the way that he looks at you makes you want to pack up all your belongings and move into this town, almost eight hours away.

His fingertips touch the side of your face, and he tilts your head so that you are looking up at him.

"It's a good thing I'm here for a week then." You whisper.

"We should make the most of it."

"Yes." You choke out because he's getting closer to you and you're barely breathing.

"You're beautiful you know."

You nod, scared to break this trance like interaction.

And then he leans the last few inches and his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first but they slowly grow more confident.

You tilt your head up for a better angle because there is no way that you're kissing Marcus Baker right now.

The butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults.

It's slow and gentle. He pulls you close to him, his body radiates heat and warms you.

You could stay like this forever you think. This was perfect. All the anticipation and build up from the past year and finally, finally the two of you were together.

#ginny and georgia #marcus baker x reader #marcus baker #marcus baker imagine #felix mallard

[ruershrimo]

from ‘take me back (take me with you)’, chapter 5:

@mechalily iwnsjsbsb I actually never thought about that!

(long explanation ahead)

one thing about the cancer though, is that though I’ve never stated what type it is, it’s probably something like myeloma or lymphoma (iirc?? I base things in the series a lot on my own experiences even if it isn’t a self-insert haha).

I also can’t remember if I stated this when [name]’s father introduced the technique, but usually users of cell manipulation can’t really see (?) the cells just by touching that spot or anything— they really do have to study the biology behind it and visualise everything correctly for it to work (I think I did mention reader needing to use a microscope for their cursed technique in… chapter 2? chapter 3? oh dear, I’m so sorry— I can’t remember TvT), so it’s quite a tricky technique to use and comes with more drawbacks than advantages, really… (the only advantage is that this could be used to heal. but even still, a person with rct like shoko could heal as well or even better without needing that biology knowledge necessary for cell manipulation).

basically, what I’m getting at here is that the mother probably has a blood cancer, so her cancer cells are all around in her body. the father lacks the precision, probably, as well as the cursed energy to eradicate all her cancer cells, or to expedite any processes for T cells (if I remember correctly, that’s what they’re called) to get rid of her cancer cells. even if the father may have been an expert, age has certainly worn him down and now he’s probably,,, well. this isn’t stated, because it isn’t really important and I want people to decide how things are for themselves, but his daughter has nearly surpassed him at her young age.

I do admit that this was lazy writing on my part, though— I wasn’t able to think of that. but I’ve always thought of it like this: no matter what happens to the father or the mother, either of them can’t do anything. even for [name]— even if they can affect her through words, in the end she can still ignore them regardless. while they’re a source of motivation for her at times and a reason she does certain things, if either of them die or anything, all that the other can do is nothing at all. I hope that makes sense ;v;,,, I’m also really sorry if I sound defensive throughout this— I promise I’m not. I’m just trying to come up with a reasoning for the plot to still hold up while explaining some things behind it as well 😭. (that said, i’m not an expert on this or anything, so please feel free to correct me on what I’ve gotten wrong!! hehehe)

and about them being annoying hypocrites for parents,,, well,,, they do love her a lot, I’ll say that. sometimes our parents pull stuff like this even if they’re wrong— even if they love her, they’re bound to screw up. [name] IS their only child, and they are quite immature people, still.

but thank you so much for commenting, and thank you again for commenting so quickly! I’m actually quite happy that you brought this up, because I really like to explain the things behind this goofy, silly little series that I haven’t had the chance to state or explain in the story itself.

so, thank you so much!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ have a good day or night :) <333

#mechalily #take me back (take me with you) #ruer writes #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jjk #megumi #megumi x reader #fem!reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #female reader #jjk x fem!reader

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

#sterge.rtf #fire emblem #fe3h #edelgard von hresvelg #realistically edelgard is not getting all of this done in her lifetime. but that wouldn't keep her from stepping away anyway #'cause a funny thing happened to edelgard during the crimson flower route: she learned to have faith again. #so even if she couldn't check every box and fix every societal ill she'd still be able to pass the crown to the next ruler. #maybe not without fear. but with confidence. with optimism. with the belief that she's leaving the world better than she found it. #she'd have faith in her people. faith in the future. faith in the groundwork she's laid. faith in the systems she's put in place. #faith that her vision will be carried out with or without her. #and that faith would allow her to eventually let go. #i so love edelgard pulling a george washington and saying nah i'm good on power. peace #though unfortunately i could also see her pulling a teddy roosevelt #and saying nah i'm good on power. peace. wait what are you doing. you're ruining it. you're bungling everything. i can't believe this #and making several (failed and increasingly insane) attempts to get back into politics #who is the taft to edelgard's ted tho. i don't want to do ferdinand the disservice of saying it's him even though i think it's very funny. #it's literally the opposite of his character as taft notoriously sniffed roosevelt's farts for a long time #until he finally pulled his head out of the guy's ass and realized there are other smells. such as the sewer. and garbage. #smells which he pursued quite happily much to ol ted's chagrin #meanwhile ferdinand does not think anything of edelgard's ass except that his is definitely better-looking than hers #(he's wrong on so many levels but you try telling the guy that) #in fact ferdinand has always taken great joy in pointing out all the things that smell better than edelgard does #which gives him an instant up on mr Take-Advice-From-Theodore #all this to say i think ferdinand von aegir would have been a much better president than william howard taft. that's just my opinion. #i'm getting off the rails in these tags idk what's wrong with me #sorry for equating your blorbos to long-dead american politicians everyone. i know this is a cardinal sin #also please don't take this to mean i think positively of washington or roosevelt or taft or whatever. #i hate all dead old white guys who ever held a modicum of power #i just had a hyperfixation on american presidents when i was in grade school and unfortunately now my brain works like this

[velvet4510]

I’m pretty sure this has been said already, but as a more recent fan who is only just starting to take a minor character like Radagast into deeper consideration, I’d like to pour it all out anyway.

One might be quick to ask, why would one of the Istari have a mission other than defeating Sauron? Why would Yavanna, who was the one who insisted Radagast join the Istari, be less interested in the defeat of Sauron than the others and only want an Istari to protect her trees? But here, I think, is the genius of Tolkien at work yet again:

There is more than one way to contribute to the defeat of an enemy.

During LOTR, while Gandalf is more of a leader and gives direct strategic advice and guidance to the armies (as does Saruman, but not on the Free Peoples’ side because he’s a traitor), and the Blue Wizards are said to have served as undercover spies weakening Sauron’s power over the Easterlings, Radagast’s skills are different. His power lies among the natural world that Sauron is threatening.

Some of the Istari needed to help with the physical battles against Sauron’s armies, yes, but Sauron was not just threatening the Free Peoples. He was also threatening the world’s olvar and kelvar, which were in as much danger - and, as living beings, had as much intrinsic value - as the people.

So Radagast WAS contributing to Sauron’s defeat, by focusing his attention and work on the living forms of Middle-Earth who could not speak.

On top of this, the natural world’s previous protectors - the Ents and Entwives - were no longer as sufficient as they used to be. Sauron destroyed a majority of, if not all the Entwives in the Second Age when they burned their gardens. By the time the Third Age arrived, the number of guardians of the olvar and kelvar had severely diminished, and Sauron was regrowing as a threat. The poison and darkness that he would spread was likely to annihilate all of Middle-Earth’s forests and wipe out the Ents completely.

So naturally, Yavanna would want a contributor to the fight against Sauron to focus on defending the olvar and kelvar. And she would want him to stick around as long as possible, and give him permission to stay there forever and never return to Aman if he so chose, which he did.

And I think there’s plenty of evidence of Radagast’s successes, considering the state of the world during the events of LOTR. Fangorn Forest still exists. Mirkwood still exists. The Shire still exists. Parth Galen still exists. Dozens of lakes and rivers still exist. Who but Radagast could have helped the Ents preserve these places and prevent Sauron’s forces from totally eradicating them?

Radagast’s many achievements of his mission are actually right under our noses. Saruman calls Radagast a fool because he is not truly in tune with Yavanna’s world and sees it as little, worthless, and able to be conquered by him. Even Gandalf does not entirely share the immeasurable depth of Radagast’s understanding of the olvar and kelvar.

Any work during a war that is not direct involvement in military/battle strategies is all too easily dismissed as passivity or inaction. But by just taking a closer look, we see how Radagast proves that silly notion wrong.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #radagast #yavanna #ents #olvar and kelvar #fangorn #istari #gandalf #saruman #blue wizards #mirkwood #entwives #third age