#when he absolutely has not and has had a horrible life and had no one

[lynk-zee]

Evol is Love Spelled Backwards

Synopsis: In which whilst fighting Heartbreaker, they get smacked in the face by their newest love spell which makes them impossibly gobsmacked over the person they love. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

Seeing Zayne on a hospital bed instead of a patient was a sight no one expected to see. But he was acting weird. Way weird. After getting smacked in the face by Heartbreaker, his temperature spiked, his face flushed, and his heart rate seemed to rocket whenever he’s not near you. So, as the doctor checks him out, Zayne’s glassy eyes are glued to you, as if the moment he looked away you’d disappear forever. He holds your hands tightly, never wanting to let go. After the checkup, the doctor said the side affects would disappear within a few hours. When he left, Zayne yanked you onto the bed, onto his lap, pinning you to his chest. He looked up at you with a lovesick expression.

Zayne: Are you hurt…

MC: Me? You’re the one who blocked the attack…

Zayne: Of course… I love you… And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever.

You flushed, not expecting that at all. Sure, you’ve both danced around the subject, sharing affections, but…

MC: Wait until you’re sober to tell me that…

Zayne: Does it matter? I’ve felt this way my entire life…

You’re sure he can feel the way your heart races. Like a sixth sense. He gives you an absolutely lovesick smile and leans up to nuzzle your nose with his. Even under this spell, your comfort and safety comes first.

When Zayne comes to, he’s slightly embarrassed by the whole ordeal but rolls with it anyways.

Zayne: Not exactly how I pictured that, but— would you like to go on a proper date with me?

Oh boy. Rafayel’s already clingy as it is. Imagine him getting smacked in the face with Heartbreaker’s love letter spell? Absolutely horrible. Thomas had to cancel his event with how insufferable and whiny Rafayel was acting. And god forbid you leave his side for even a second— How dare you!

Rafayel: Just say you hate me and want me to die!

MC: I don’t see what the big deal is. I just need to—

Rafayel: NO!

Rafayel sprung to his feet on wobbly legs. He can’t hold himself up, so he falls into your arms like a dainty princess. Lucky for him, you’re too lost in the impossible colors in his eyes to chastise him. With flushed cheeks, he furrows his eyebrows in a cute glare and tells you how he feels.

Rafayel: I don’t want you to leave me ever! I want you to stay by my side.

MC: I can only do so much as your bodyguard—

Rafayel: *shakes his head* Not as my bodyguard! As my soulmate!

Your heart stopped. Did he mean it? Like, really mean it? Rafayel always flirted with you, but you always took it in good jest, secretly wishing it was real. But now…

When Rafayel sobers up, he grabs your hand, gently cradling your face.

Rafayel: I meant it you know… Every single word… Let me take you out on a date. Just me and you…

Writing this report to Jenna was going to be tricky. I mean, how do you tell your boss that the strongest hunter on the team was completely inebriated by a love spell? Xavier, being the dashing and heroic hunter you knew, stepped in front of you as Heartbreaker unleashed their newest spell. The force of nature that was your partner has been reduced to a pile of goop clinging onto your shoulder like his life depended on it. As you walked him up to his apartment, you had to fight down the burn in your cheeks as he complimented the smell of your hair and the new lipstick you bought. He was close. Too close.

MC: Alright, Xavier. Here we go. Just give me your keys and you’ll be home safe and sound— WAH!

Xavier had unlocked the door for you and fell in, bringing you down with him. You landed on his chest with an oof, concerned on whether or not he hit his head.

MC: Are you okay?!

As you felt around the back of his head for any bumps, his arms around you tightened, pinning you to his chest. You flushed, your noses almost touching. His eyes linger on your lips, a hand going up to play with your hair as he hummed.

Xavier: I’m okay…

MC: Aha… That’s good. Um, could you let me up now.

He furrowed his brows with a serious glint in his eyes.

Xavier: No.

MC: But I need to—

Xavier: You don’t need to do anything. Not without me. We’re partners—

MC: Yes… Work partners—

Xavier: For life.

Woahhhh. He hasn’t even asked out on a date yet at that point. When he comes to, he’s genuinely confused by what he had just admitted to you. But he wasn’t going to back down.

Xavier: That wasn’t how it went in the books I’ve read but… Do you want… To go out sometime?

#☀️l&ds #love & deepsace x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel l&ds #rafayel lads #rafayel lnd #love & deepspace #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier l&ds #xavier lad #zayne lads #xavier lads #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #zayne lnd #zayne l&ds #xavier lnd

[blarshwritezz]

Could you write a yandere worshipper with a god darling? The darling isn't a benevolent god and requires bloody sacrifices but they are willing to offer anything and everything to them. I would imagine a scenario where the god descends on earth for the first time and he gets to meet them, what would they do? An obsessive, extremely delusional yandere that believes they are meant to be the darling's spouse.

Gender neutral reader and male yandere possibly!

(Can have NSFW or not, whatever you feel most inspired to do)

-🔴🦊

Oh yes! The motivation has me in a chokehold with this one! Also, I was planning on adding NSFW, but got super caught up in the writing and didn't. I'm sorry

Yandere Worshipper x God Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, blood, torture, murder, harming animals, masochism, manipulation

Before you, his life was miserable. Nothing was worth living for. Everything absolutely pissed him off. Most nights he'd go into the forest behind his home and kill whatever small animals he could find rather than sleep. There was something relaxing about causing something to bleed and watching the light slowly drain from their eyes.

On one of those such nights, he just so happened to kill a rabbit on an abandoned altar. Your altar. He didn't really notice. It just seemed like another abandoned structure. Just a crumbling rock covered in vines to him. Nothing special whatsoever.

Oh how wrong he was. That "stupid rock" was exactly the thing that would change his life.

As the blood of the rabbit seeped through the vines and onto the stone, lightning struck. Odd, it wasn't supposed to rain that night. Regardless, he didn't want to get all wet, that'd be inconvenient. He went home, rain pouring as soon as he closed his door. Lucky timing.

It was nearly 3am, and he had to be up in 2 hours for work. Maybe he should actually try to get some sleep. Only bothering to take off his shoes, he went to the couch and flopped down. Tomorrow was going to be just the same. He closed his eyes, sleep taking him faster than usual.

It was dark. He never feared the dark, but there was something...eerie about this. It seemed like, other than a small area around him, this place was entirely void of light.

Was this a dream? It had to be. But it felt so...real.

The rabbit he had just killed tonight was suddenly tossed to his feet, coming from the darkness. But something was off. It had no blood left. It was completely dried up.

"My, you certainly are disgusting, aren't you?" A voice rang out all around him. "I adore it."

He tried to speak. To ask what was going on. But nothing. Not a sound came out of his throat.

"Let's make a deal." An ominous hand extended from the darkness. "I will give you all your darkest desires, let you harm whomever you want as horribly as you want. And all I ask of you is that you sacrifice their blood to me. Do we have a deal?"

Well, there's a reasons dreams are called as such. The idea of getting to live out his twisted desires freely absolutely was his dream.

Even if this wasn't real, he agreed anyway. He took the hand and shook it, feeling how cold it was. Your grip was brutal and freezing. If this was real, you might have almost broke his hand.

"That's a good boy~" Your voice faded away, drowned out by the sudden wind.

He awoke with a start. It was still the middle of the night. Checking his phone, he found that he only got about 10 minutes of sleep.

But he also found a large, unnatural bruise on his hand. Right where yours would have held it. Was that...not a dream?

He was hesitant at first. As much as he wanted it to be true, life just wasn't that good to him. But that next night, he went back to your altar. The rabbit and its blood were gone. It was too clean for some other animal to have taken it. So he wanted to try something out. He found three squirrels - it must have been a good night - and brought their carcasses to your altar.

And when he came back the next morning, there wasn't a trace of them.

So it was real...it really was! It started simple. He'd hunt small animals and deliver them to the altar. At some point, he even cleared the vines covering it and made sure the area was nice and clean for you. He's been getting frequent visits from you in his dreams. Even if all he knew was your hand and voice, you were growing more and more enticing...and he even gained your trust enough to allow him to speak!

But the little forest critters quickly learned to avoid the area. Some nights, he couldn't find a single thing for you. And so, during one of your dream visits, he begged and pleaded for an answer.

"My god, my perfect god, I am so sorry! No matter how far I go, I can't seem to find enough blood for you! Please, give me an answer! How shall I please you without enough sacrifices?" He was pathetic, down on his knees in front of you. Or at least, where he thought you were.

Truly, your mortal pet was adorable.

"My one and only follower, let me give you the answer..."

When you said it...it seemed so simple. And truly he was flattered.

He spent his days and nights doing exactly as you said. His home turned into more of a church dedicated entirely to you. A church he would get people to join. It was difficult at first. His people skills were lacking, to put it kindly. But with your perfect guidance, he was able to sweet talk anyone into joining your cult church. It was getting so big that he got to quit his job. After all, your new followers were paying him now.

Preying on the weak and desperate made it easy! But of course, he still had to make sacrifices to you somehow until these people could be used. He needed their trust first. So how did he give you blood? Why, by giving you his of course! Just like you said to!

He loved to make blood spill. But he never realized it would feel so good to spill his own blood. If it was for you, he'd tear out his organs and bones one by one until you were satisfied.

He was enjoying himself too much, and everyone could tell. Well, his followers didn't yet know exactly what was going on, but they knew something was wrong. He was getting paler. He was tired and confused, he could hardly walk straight, and he seemed short of breath from simple tasks.

You couldn't have this. You couldn't let your prophet die of blood loss so soon. There was still much work to do.

"You worry me, my devoted follower. How will you spread my word when you're so weak?" Your cold hand reached from the darkness in his mind, your finger gently stroking his cheek.

This was pure bliss. If only he could never wake up. Your cold hand on his face, heat quickly rising in his cheeks. How kind you were to worry for him. That must mean he truly was meant to be yours!

He worked even harder after that dream. Soon enough, you had hundreds of followers! Enough that no one would notice a few going missing. That was when he could finally make big sacrifices to you.

Those who weren't dedicated enough to you payed the price. The basement of his home turned into a lovely little torture chamber. Those who displeased you in even the smallest ways found themselves down there, and never found their way out. No matter how much they screamed or cried or begged, forgiveness was never earned, and therefore neither was freedom.

Some were so pathetic that they even died. Those ones were fun. Such large sacrifices pleased you anytime he dragged them out to the altar. They made you grow more powerful.

It took so long to get here. So much work. He's become unrecognizable. But finally it was time. He'll never forget this dream. He'd never dare forget any of them! He made sure to write them down after waking up.

"It's nearly time, my faithful follower." Your voice, your absolutely perfect voice surrounded him and rang throughout his head.

"Time for what, my god?" No matter what it was, he was eager. After all, you sounded so pleased right now.

"Bring all our followers to my altar tomorrow night. Do as I say."

The word echoed through his mind. You said "our" followers. As in both of you, together. Ah, he really was meant to be your husband! And you knew it too! Clearly, otherwise you wouldn't have worded it like that. You were a very wise god, after all. You would never misspeak.

Or maybe you were just manipulating him, preying on his mad desire for you. He wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

As with all your commands, he did exactly as you said. He would never dare disobey you. They were confused, whispering and murmuring to each other. He was confused too, but that didn't matter. He did what you told him to! He was such a good follower.

Thunder roared above, the wind slowly picking up until it could nearly blow the frail man away. Lighting cracked up above, and rain began to pour. Some of the followers tried to love, not wanting to be stuck in this storm, only to be stopped by sudden cracks of lightning.

It was storming about as bad as it was the first night he "met" you. He kept his eyes on your altar, his hands clasped in front of his chest. Something was about to happen...

Then lightning struck it. Your one and only altar was...not destroyed? An imposing figure sat atop it, the storm dying down.

His jaw dropped as he fell to his knees. It had to be...those hands. This immaculate presence. The sheer fear that struck through his heart. Yes, this was most certainly his beloved god.

While everyone else had looks of shock and terror on their faces, his expression was one of pure bliss. His cheeks were red, a wide grin on his lips as drool dropped down his chin. Your perfection was beyond his wildest imagination.

"Footrest." Your powerful voice commanded, motioning for him to come closer with two fingers. He gladly crawled to you, on his hands and knees as you rested your feet on his back.

He just couldn't stop staring at you. He had to memorize every last detail in case he never sees it again. His absolutely perfect spouse...

"I ought to introduce myself properly. Yes, I am your god. Kneel before me!" Your voice boomed, becoming the only sound in the dense forest. Some of your followers kneeled more hesitantly than others. Those who hesitated...were quickly killed.

Your worshipper was in awe of your power and authority. The way you took those pieces of filth's lives with just a flick of your wrist was utterly divine. He's never seen something so beautiful.

"Those of you who do not dedicate your very being to me...are to die here tonight." You smirked as the people uproar. Did they truly think you were as benevolent as they'd been told? It was their own fault for trusting the delusional man beneath your feet.

It was a massacre. A bloody, brutal, unstoppable massacre. No one was spared. No one but him. They would now be your slaves in the afterlife thanks to their (lackluster) devotion to you in life.

He was absolutely enamoured. He's never seen so much blood. Such beautiful red, so many dead bodies...you most certainly were a good deserving of his complete worship and devotion. It was he that did not deserve your magnificence.

"Now, my devoted worshipper...join me. Plunge this world into utter despair and chaos with me."

"Yes, my god!" He would do anything you wanted! Anything...this world would know your name, and it would be all because of him.

Alright, that was a good one! Endings are hard- also, sorry if there's any errors. It was a long one this time! (Yay!)

#blarsh writes #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #male yandere #anon ask #yandere x you #male x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #x female reader #x male reader #yandere worshipper #worshipper yandere

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.

Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.

So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.

He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.

Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.

A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.

Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.

Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)

His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.

Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.

Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.

A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!

Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.

Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.

Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.

Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.

Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.

Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.

Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.

He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.

Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.

Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!

Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.

Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.

Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.

Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.

Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.

It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).

Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.

This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #bingyuan #scum villain #long post #whoever the roderick burgess proxy is here he's got a big storm coming #going the classic dreamling fanfic route and having shen yuan get rescued instead of having to escape by himself #shang qinghua has definitely made other people immortal on various whims and impulses #he bestows his gift recklessly on a betrayed young prince at one point and the divine emperor is just like 'enough!' #'if you're doing to do this I'm going to make you babysit the results! you descend and work for that prince now!' so he's got his hands ful #dreamling might be the situation but shen yuan isn't much of a dream of the endless type #and luo binghe is nothing like hob gadling lol #'I want to live because I love life!' nope it's mostly about spite #the hardest part of this AU is imagining a universe where shen yuan would ignore luo binghe for long enough to let actual centuries pass

[x0xomady]

the after party - pt.2

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆

pt.1

summary: after two years of a toxic cycle, y/n stops. this means harry needs to get desperate.

warnings: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP! smut, p in v, oral sex, degrading behavior, pet names, manipulation, angst, alcohol consumption. 18+

just so we’re clear i do NOT support toxic relationships. if you ever find yourself in a relationship like this run away

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2 months and 3 days without harry. it feels like 2 years.

every time i check my phone or open my door, i imagine the curly headed boy being there waiting for me.

deep down, i know it’s good that i broke all contact with harry. no matter how much i love him, i know it’s necessary to cut the cycle short.

so i did it… i blocked harry.

i may or may not have cried for hours after that, but at least i did it.

harry hasn’t made it any easier for me. every week or so he comes over and leaves stuff on my front door. last week it was a little jellycat stuffie.

if i’m being honest i ALMOST caved and called him after that. luckily my best friend was there to hide my phone and distract me with other things.

although i miss harry, i can’t help but feel an amazing sense of relief knowing i don’t have to worry about him. i used to spend my days worrying about wether or not harry and i were back together and it took a toll on my mental health.

it was almost like i was stuck in one place while harry ran around me in circles, but now im finally able to move away.

my mind has been clear, my body feels healthier, and i’m overall pretty happy now. i even started doing pilates a couple times a week.

i’ve come to the painful realization that even though i loved harry, he made me absolutely miserable. i’m doing better than ever without hi-

ding

fuck. it’s probably harry.

i grab a pillow and throw it over my face groaning into it loudly. FUCK. i sigh and walk over to my front door.

as soon as i open the door im hit with a sight that makes me weak in the knees.

harry

i stand there silently looking at harry. he stands there silently as well holding a bouquet of tulips. my favorite

neither of us talks for a moment just taking in the sight of each other after 2 months apart.

“y/n….”

just like that my body was stuck again.

“what do you want harry?”

“you…”

i shake my head and close the door in his face but harry catches the door with his hand and pushes it open again.

“i’m sorry baby. i’m really really fucking sorry.” harry looks at me with those green eyes and i feel my breath catch in my throat.

“no. just go.” i shake my head not backing down. harry’s eyebrows furrow as he takes a step closer to me.

“cmon… let me make it up to you.” he leans down and whispers in my ear. “i love you pretty girl…. let me in.”

my mind races at this. he loves me? no he doesn’t. he loves sex.

“fuck off harry. just go.”

“no… baby i love you. let me in so we can talk. i promise im going to change… we can have a real relationship this time- ”

without a second thought i grab the door and slam it in his face.

fuck.

ೀ 3 months later ೀ

my friends are taking me out to celebrate 5 months without harry. is it stupid to celebrate this? probably, but we just needed an excuse to get wasted.

to be honest i don’t even know if i miss harry anymore. he’s like a bad memory that haunts me when i’m at frat parties. sure i’ll always love him, but i know he’s a fucked up asshole.

they say men have post nut clarity… girls get post relationship clarity

or never realized how horrible he made me feel until i went a week without him and actually had fun.

“oh honey life is so good! you’re single and happy, there’s no asshole guy on your mind, and you look hot!” my friend squealed while pulling me down the street towards the club.

it was true. i feel amazing and confident right now. screw harry.

we walk down the block and arrive at the loud club. after a few minutes of waiting my friends and i walk into the large building. immediately i’m hit with the smell of weed and sweat.

great

my friends all run off to cute guys and drinks while i walk over to the bar alone.

the bartender is cute to say the least. he had to be at least 6’2 and had dark brown hair. he looks like-

“hi can i get you something?” my thoughts are cut short by the cute bartender talking to me.

“yeah can i get a cosmopolitan please?” i smile sweetly at the bartender.

he nods and eyes me for a second before walking over to make my drink.

okay. so there is two options i can take right now. i can, one, take my drink and walk away to my friends… or, i could stay here and flirt with him.

option two is looking really fucking good.

“here ya go.” he smiles and hands me the drink.

“thank you” i take a sip of the drink looking up at him.

he leans against the bar looking at me with a smirk. “are you alone?”

“no. i’m with my friends but i think they ran over to dance.” i smile and shrug.

after being involved with harry for so long i forgot how much fun it is to flirt with random guys.

the bartender nods and looks down at me. “well can i just tell you that you’re the prettiest girl i’ve seen all night.”

i smile and take another sip of my drink while holding eye contact with him. “thank you.”

he hums and nods keeping his eyes on me. “a gorgeous girl like you must have a pretty name to match. can i know what it is?”

“y/n”

“see? beautiful girls always have beautiful names to match.” he smiles and leans against his elbows on the bar so we’re only about a foot apart.

“and what’s your name?”

“i’m jackson.”

“that’s a cute name.” i giggle and sip my drink.

jackson and i spend the next 45 minutes chatting mindlessly about things we like and things we don’t like. he’s actually really funny and charming.

every couple of minutes he had to walk away and serve someone, but after a while his shift is over and we talk some more.

again. i find myself in a dilemma. this night has gone really well so far. so… i could either say thank you and go to find my friends…. or i could take him home.

ahh fuck it.

“hey do you want to get out of here?” i smile up at him.

jackson smirks and nods. “hell yeah”

after telling my friends i was going home with a cute bartender and them freaking out over me finally moving on from harry… we arrive at my house.

jackson is instantly on me as soon as we walk in the door. he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling her closer while kissing me deeply.

“you’re… so fucking gorgeous…” he mumbles against my lips and kisses me again.

i smile and kiss him with my arms wrapped around his neck. i grab his arm and pull him over to my couch. as soon as he sits down as i straddle him and reconnect our lips.

jackson moans softly and pulls me closer to him while squeezing my hips tightly.

making out with him was honestly very refreshing. it felt good to do something other then wallow in self pity and feel sorry for myself. i was getting back out there…

kind of.

i couldn’t pull the thought of a certain curly headed boy out of my mind. every time he touched my hips and i ran my fingers through his hair, i thought about my harry.

knock knock

without a second thought i knew exactly who was at my door. FUCK

i pull away from jackson breathing heavier. “let me… go get that…” i sigh and get off his lap. the door bell rings again and i roll my eyes while walking over to it.

i open the door and am met year again by those two green eyes. except this time something was different. harry wasn’t here with any expensive gifts or smug looks… he was here in a hoodie, sweatpants, and red eyes.

was he… crying?

“harry?” i ask confused. i look between harry and jackson quickly and realize the situation i’m in.

harry looks at me silently with sad eyes. i sigh and open the door so he can walk in.

his expression drops as soon as he sees jackson standing there. he stares at him for a minute before his body whips back around to face me.

“who the fuck is he??” harry stares at me in shock and then looks back over at jackson who’s standing there awkwardly.

“sorry jackson…. i dont think tonight is going to workout.” i look at him apologetically but he just nods kindly and walks out of my house.

“yeah sure y/n” he looks disappointed but he leaves out of understanding of the awkward situation im currently in.

harry waits until he leaves and then looks back at me. “y-you have a new boyfriend?”

“no he’s just the bartender i met tonight at the club.” i roll my eyes at harry’s panicked state.

harry’s face drops even more and he looks at me with wide eyes. “so that’s it?! you’re just completely over me and don’t love me anymore? i got traded out for a fucking bartender!”

the worst part about this situation is harry isn’t even yelling in a rude way. he’s yelling in a very upset way which makes me feel the slightest bit guilty.

“look. for the last time harry… we’re over!” i say to harry loudly.

harry stares at me for a second before i see his eyes start to water and his voice catch in his throat. it’s my turn to make him feel like he’s stuck.

“why are you here harry? is it to whine about getting back together? because if it is i’m dragging your ass our right now.”

instead of responding to me, harry sits on my couch quietly and drops a notebook on top of the table.

“what is that? get out of my house harry!” i stay sternly. harry doesn’t respond he just nods towards the notebook.

i roll my eyes and walk over to the couch. “can you at least tell me what that is?”

harry sighs and looks up at me. “promise you won’t laugh at me?”

at first i dont respond because i probably should laugh and tell him to get the hell out, but i have a feeling harry’s not doing well.

based on the way he looks and the way he’s not talking as much as he usually does… something’s up.

“okay… i promise”

harry nods and sits there nervously. “i- it’s really embarrassing… but- i went to therapy.” he says the last part quieter.

my face drops in shock. HARRY STYLES WENT TO THERAPY? there was no way in hell he wasn’t lying.

“you- wait- harry what?!” i was completely baffled by the news. i didn’t even know if he was telling the truth. it’s not below harry to lie if it gets me to hookup.

harry nods again and looks up at me seriously. “i went- to… therapy…” he looks down at the floor out of embarrassment. “after the last time we saw each other i realized i should- probably try to change.”

he- he wants to change? if you know harry at all you know how insane that is to hear from his lips. harry is the kind of guy that would say ‘you’re the problem not me.’

now he’s admitting he wants to change?

“harry are you being serious? you actually went to therapy?” i stare at him in shock.

he looks down at his lap embarrassed. “yeah… don’t laugh i know it’s dumb.”

“no! i’m not going to laugh! this is amazing harry! you actually went out and got help? are you serious?” i couldn’t help the tiny bit of happiness that started blooming in my heart.

“yeah and… my therapist said that i should write down my apology since it’s still hard for me to- talk about shit.” his face is bright red and he’s not even looking at me anymore.

ohhh i look down at the notebook on the table and realize what it is.

“so you did it? you wrote down your feelings?” i’m completely shocked. my voice softens as i realize harry actually did something… good.

“i did… and i- i don’t know how to talk to you about this so i wrote it down for you to read.” harry mumbles quietly and nods to the notebook.

“you used to always complain that i didn’t open up enough to you… well this is my way of telling you how i really feel.”

“yeah i wanted you to open up because i wanted to connect with you.” i say quietly while watching harry.

“i know… i just didn’t know how to express certain feelings to you. that’s why i went to— therapy… i realized that if i was ever going to have another chance with you… i needed to grow up and get help.”

“so… you want me to read it?” i ask him curiously

harry nods desperately and motions for the book. “please. you don’t have to forgive me… just read it so you understand my feelings.” harry looks up at me again with pleading eyes.

i hesitate for a second but then i carefully sit on the couch next to harry. he picks up the notebook and hands it to me quietly.

my brain is screaming at me to kick harry out but my heart is telling me to give harry a chance. i hesitantly take the notebook from harry and open it slowly. part of me expects there to be a giant middle finger or a dick pic that would have harry burst out laughing.

my eyes widen when i realize that there’s actually pages and pages of words written down.

harry looks more nervous than i’ve seen him in my entire life. he’s sitting against the couch fidgeting with his rings not even looking at me as i open the book.

i sigh and then begin reading from the notebook. to no one’s surprise the first sentence has harry’s signature, “i’m really fucking sorry”

i’m about to roll my eyes and throw the book away when my eyes catch the second sentence.

“hurting you was the worst mistake of my life. it hurt me more than it did you.”

i reread the sentence and stare at the page in disbelief. harry admitting he was wrong… he never admitted he was wrong.

my eyes continue to scan the page as i read through the lines of harry’s familiar handwriting. my eyes land on another catching sentence.

“i hurt you and never let you get close to me because it was easier than admitting how much i actually love you.”

my heart stops and i am left completely speechless. the most sincere words i’ve ever seen from harry are sitting right in front of me. i glanced over at harry who is staring at his lap embarrassed.

i move my eyes back to the pages where i continue reading multiple “i love you’s” and “im sorry”

reading this honestly made me more skeptical. harry had NEVER said he was sorry unless it was to convince me to hookup. the one thing i know is that i’m not sleeping up with harry tonight.

at the end of the pages there’s a little sentence that makes my heart flutter. “i love you y/n. it’s real this time.”

once i’m finished reading the notebook i close it quietly and place it back on the coffee table. neither harry or i says anything, both of us just sitting silently thinking about everything that’s happening.

after a couple minutes i break the silence, “i can’t believe…. you actually went to therapy.”

harry stays silent for a second but then nods and responds. “it was really fucking embarrassing the first couple of times but- i actually kind of like going now.”

a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips at harry’s words. “so you actually mean it all?”

“i do. i promise from the bottom of my heart, i love you and im so sorry.” harry looks down at his lap awkwardly and continues fidgeting with his hands and rings.

i stay silent just comprehending everything that is happening right now. harry… loves me… but does he actually? or is this another manipulation trick?

“look y/n- you don’t have to respond okay? i don’t expect you to love me or forgive me. i just wanted you to know how much i love you and that im changing.” he looks at me sincerely.

for the third time tonight i find myself in a difficult dilemma. i could either kick harry out of my house and tell him to leave em alone, or i could forgive him.

“i forgive you.”

harry’s jaw drops and looks at me in shock.

“wait what? i- i thought you hated me?”

i shake my head and look back up at him. “no i forgive you harry.”

harry doesn’t say anything. he just stares at me in disbelief. then the most utterly shocking thing happens. harry goes to speak but his voice cracks and his eyes start getting watery.

was he- no. he couldn’t be…

he stares at me for another second before completely breaking down. harry covers his face with his hands out of embarrassment. it took my brain to realize what was happening. harry is sobbing into his hands in front of me.

harry. styles. the same man who wouldn’t even tell me what grade he got in calculus, was crying in front of me.

some girls say that seeing guys cry gives them a big ick and annoys them. seeing harry cry made me extremely happy. as fucked up as that sounds its true. harry never shows any sort of emotions to me and here he is, crying.

after i realize that harry is literally sobbing in front of me i rush over and hug him tightly. the fact is… no matter how angry i was at harry, i could never see him hurt like this.

as soon as my arms are wrapped around him harry is hugging me against him tightly and crying into my shoulder.

this was- everything i have ever wanted from him. the biggest problem with our relationship was that we didn’t trust each other and open up. yet, here harry was crying with me for the first time ever.

i hug him tightly and let him cry with his head buried in my shoulder. neither of us spoke just letting the moment happen quietly. the only sounds in the room being harrys quiet sobs and cars driving by outside.

it should have been an awkward silence that made us both cringe, but instead i felt extremely comforted by it.

after a few minutes harry pulls his head away with his arms still wrapped around my waist tightly. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed you baby” he whispers and pushes his head into my neck.

my heart flutters and butterflies fill my stomach as harry holds me tightly whispering soft words to me.

“i love you so, so, so much.” he says while pulling me against him tightly.

“i love you too” i whisper softly to him. was it a huge mistake to believe him? for the first time in all the years i’ve been with harry… i could say honestly that i really believed what he was telling me.

harry smiles brightly and buries his head into my neck again. “i’m sorry… for everything. i should have never put you through anything that i did."

“no its- ” i’m cut off by harry.

“no. don’t try to justify my actions. what i did to you was horrible. being apart from you and going to therapy made me realize what a terrible boyfriend i was to you.” he puts his hand on the back of my head and holds me tightly. “i promise you i’ll never do anything like that again. i’m changing.”

now it’s my turn to get emotional. i have NEVER gotten this amount of kindness or affection from harry. my eyes water slightly as i smile and lean against him.

i’ve been defending and justifying how harry treated me for so long, it feels like heaven to just stop and accept that he is sorry.

“i thought of you everyday. it was like i couldn’t escape you. every time i heard lana del rey on the radio or saw little candies anywhere i imagined you.” he chuckles softly and kisses my neck.

i can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. for the first time in years, i feel truly loved by harry.

“i’m sorry pretty girl. everything i did to you… i did it because i was scared. i was scared of committing to you and that you would leave me. i had no idea how much i was hurting you."

i sigh and hug harry tightly. “yeah it hurt but knowing you care enough to get help means the world to me. it means you actually care about our relationship and its not just a hookup for you."

“look y/n…" harry pulls away slightly so we’re looking at each other. “i want you to trust me again. i know you won’t automatically trust me after all the shitty things i did, but eventually-"

i cut harry off by pressing my lips to his. harrys eyes widen in shock but then he kisses me back.

my hands wrap around harrys neck while he holds my waist with one arm and my face with the other. i was so overcome with love for the man sitting in front of me that all thoughts flew out the window.

harry kisses me back for a second before pulling away with a smile. “i love you y/n… lets not do anything yet okay? i want to prove to you that i’m being real this time.” he says kissing my cheek and forehead.

that to me was all the proof i needed to realize that harry was being serious this time. i’ve never seen harry deny sex before and here he was...

we made it to the after party.

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yay! i love making asshole men cry! sorry there was no smut in this part :( the next part is going to have lots !

-xoxo

#harry styles #x0xomady #harry edward styles #one direction #dom harry styles #fanfiction #smut #wattpad #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #hs #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fratrry #hes #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot

[black-bulls-mansion]

Ranking the Black Bulls in terms of their Cooking Skills:

Only pure skills, so a certain someone's cook sheep don't count.

Five-Stars Skills, literally never miss:

1. Grey — because when you grow up cooking for an overcritical, picky stepfamily, you end up building impressive skills, grey has an excellent eye for details and only lacks in confidence - which she's been working on, of course. 2. Charmy — it's never stated out loud, but charmy is rarely seen cooking on her own without her cooking cheep (who ranked 5th in the official list of best chefs in the kingdom), while she's skilled at making pretty much anything, she's clearly more eager to explore new places and discover new ingredients. 3. Zora — he's the type who can make a fancy meal out of average to below average ingredients, it's one of those skills he develops to take care of his usually absent father. 4. Yami — most likely to survive in a stranded island, canonically did so in an unfamiliar environment, his skills may be more basic and less fancy but he always delivers.

Great Skills, know their way around a kitchen:

5. Nero — it has been forever (literally) since she cooked anything but the second nature is there, however her taste buds aren't the same anymore so anything she makes turns out either too sweet, too bitter, or a secret third option that involves worms. 6. Asta — lily is canonically the fourth best chef in the kingdom, and she's very passionate about passing her skills to asta, yuno, and the other kids. 7. Magna — it starts as an honest attempt to burn off stress and cope with his anger issues, soon becomes a regular hobby of his that he tries to keep secret from everyone else. 8. Gordon — by-the-book chef, nothing objectively bad about his skills but anything he makes end up looking bizarre and, to most people, very unappetizing.

Basic Skills, can prepare at least one dish:

9. Luck — he had to cook for his ill mother, so he can make basic healthy dishes with rice, eggs, and vegetables. 10. Liebe — has most of the basics figured out when he lived with licita, though he's only good at making licita's, and by default his, favorite dish. 11. Finral — a baker, starts baking at a young age in hope to bond with langris, gets better at it over the years to impress girls, much to his dismay everyone calls his meals bland. 12. Nacht — well, he can improvise, but never truly cared enough to put the effort, had it not been for his devils doing their best to nag him into eating, he'd have starved a long ago.

Physically Incapable to Make Anything Edible:

13. Henry — uhh... yeah, never had a chance to cook, is content about it, but has a surprising knack for seasoning, topping, and tricks to make dishes more appealing... making him the perfect partner to gordon. 14. Vanessa — a fantastic expert at making cocktails, very horrible at everything else... like, really horrible, the mix sugar with salt and add wine to everything kind of horrible... objectively not the worst, but charmy considers her the absolute worst. 15. Gauche — between his early rich kid lifestyle and the shift into poverty and homelessness, he didn't consider cooking instead of, y'know - stealing, until late on his second year with the squad but, due to his critical nature, he's hilariously bad at it despite having a knack for giving helpful advices. 16. Noelle — another comically bad case, anything she puts her hands on become inedible at best and life threatening at worst, which she isn't aware of, because everyone collectively tolerates her cooking to support her (or has a death wish, in nacht's case).

#ranking the bulls #black clover #grey #zora ideale #charmy pappitson #yami sukehiro #nero #asta #magna swing #gordon agrippa #luck voltia #liebe #finral roulacase #nacht faust #henry legolant #vanessa enoteca #gauche adlai #noelle silva

[hotpinkstars]

Since we all love crumbs of angst every now and then:

Boothill being a dad is kinda bittersweet on it's own given his past.

But what if-

He lost his s/o due to labor complications. Another person on the list of people he lost out of nowhere.

LOSS - boothill x reader

- you pass away giving birth to your child.

- hi guys im sick 🤒 and i feel like i'm going to pass out but i decided to write 👍 this ask broke me but i just had to write it and i have no regrets... guys i was gonna write angst anyway but this one. this.

- major character death, hurt no comfort, written by someone who has never had a baby or been pregnant, pre-cyborg boothill wc 863

You have reached your due date, leaving both you and Boothill on your toes.

You’ve have a specifically rough pregnancy in itself, being horribly sick in the middle of it, really bad pain for the majority of it, and you were absolutely ready to get this baby out of you.

It pained Boothill to see you in so much agony, so he wishes the same, too. There's only so much he can do when it comes to how painful and hard your pregnancy was. 

So, when he was awoken to moaning and the sight of you leaning up against the headboard at around 2 in the morning, he was excited, but also really nervous. If your pregnancy was harsh, how bad would your labor be?

When you saw him wake up, you immediately gripped his arm, holding onto it for dear life before he could even register the situation unfolding before him. Tears were streaming down your face, little gasps and moans coming from your chapped lips every once in a while.

“What’s going on?” He asked, groggy and barely capable of opening his eyes. You fall into his embrace, crying lightly into his shoulder. 

“It hurts,” you manage to choke out, trying to get as much air in and out as you can.

“Is it baby time?” He sat up, a glimmer in his now wide eyes. You nod, clutching his shoulders and leaning back into the pillow. At the same time he was excited, he was also indescribably nervous. He wasted no time in readying himself to take you to the hospital. 

He ran around your shared ranch, preparing everything possible after helping you walk to the couch so you were in a less stuffy space. He draped a light blanket over your form, occasionally sitting with you while you’re fighting a contraction. 

He got you to the hospital alright, which was a success in his eyes. The only thing he couldn’t do was take your pain away, and it pulled at his heart in a horrible way. The amount of “‘M sorry, sugar,” he whispered on the way to the hospital would be more than countable on both hands.

So now, with you in the nurses hands, all he had to do was help you through contractions, and wait until his baby was born.

He was confident in your abilities to give birth to a healthy baby, and he was also confident in your capabilities of rebounding from the birth. That was, until your pulse dropped.

Thankfully, a nurse was checking how dilated you were, and noticed your breathing pattern was very… labored. He understood something was wrong when she stopped midway through checking you to come up to give you an oxygen mask, and telling you to breathe before frantically finding other nurses. While a bunch of professionals crowd around you, someone pulls him aside. 

“You’re the husband, yes?” The nurse asked, sitting down to type away on a keyboard. He nodded, fidgeting with his fingers while he rested his forearms on top of the counter. 

“Is she gonna be alright?” He asked, some uncertainty laced within his accent, making it thicker. 

The nurse hesitated and stumbled over her words. “I’m not entirely sure,” she managed to get out, crushing the cowboys' already strained heart. “You saw her state, and we're certainly going to have to perform a c-section. She’s much too weak for a vaginal birth.”

He nodded slowly. “When do I get to see her again?”

“You can now if you want to. There's just going to be a lot of nurses in there, that's all.” 

So in the room he goes. He doesn’t want to miss out on anything, even if you’re extremely unstable and barely breathing. He walks in and kneels right by the side of your head, watching as your eyes crack open in the slightest, smiling through your oxygen mask. 

“You’ll be alright, sugar,” he whispered before kissing your forehead. “It’ll all be alright.”

Famous last words.

You, for a matter of fact, were not alright. You could barely even keep your eyes open as they hand Boothill your baby. They were bloodshot, and very exhausted. As nurses were trying to stitch you up, your vision turned to black.

They escorted Boothill and your child out of the room and into a separate room as they try to help you once more. But nothing was working. Your heart had stopped beating, and the oxygen mask was no longer necessary. 

When the news was broken to Boothill, he instantly broke down. A nurse took the baby into a separate part of the unit so she could be properly treated, and he rushed back over to your room with tears flooding his eyes to see if he could catch one final glimpse of you. 

You were deathly pale, laying stiff on the bed, no life left in your body. He once again started to break down before being told to head home for the night, to get as much rest as he could and to come back in the morning. 

Well, he was a father, but his daughter no longer had the mother she deserved.

#honkai star rail #hsr #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #tw pregnancy #angst #death

[landonkirbyappreciation]

#please DO NOT repost or use any of my gifs on twitter without credit #landon kirby #landonkirbyedit #4x16 #multi #rafael waithe #seylah chelon #hope mikaelson #legacies parallels #my edit #my gifs #bc growing up alone and unwanted and abused = love friendship and adventure :') #ugh #i could've done way more but it would've been too much for one gifset #i also wanted to focus more on landon's life overall like before hope and raf #bc yeah he has known incredible love with hope and friendship with raf #but he didn't know raf till he was 15 #and wasn't with hope till he was 17 #so to say he's known those things his whole life #when he absolutely has not and has had a horrible life and had no one #is complete bs and downright insulting #even if we assume landon was just saying that to help seylah #it's the fact that the writers didn't imply that it wasn't true #and had seylah believing it when she knows it's not the truth #which to me kinda confirms that the writers meant for it to be genuine #plus they've ignored landon's trauma and pain all this time anyway #this was just another way for them to totally disregard his trauma #by trying to erase it and his background #and romanticizing the terrible life he's had instead for the sake of their messed up narrative #or they just really don't know his character bc it's as if they didn't watch the first seasons

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hi, I was just rereading today, and I still think it's hilarious how Tsumiki handles Megumi’s divine dogs😭😂

Nanami, highly experienced grade one sorcerer: *appropriately assessing the risks of shikigami in a highly aggressive attack mode whose sorcerer is not coherent enough to order them down properly, trying to find a solution that prevents injury without necessitating the destruction of the shikigami*

Tsumiki, has a decade of being secretly smug that her brother’s shikigami love her best under her belt, ready to bank it all on the fact that her brother’s dogs are Good Boys: nanami would you move your ass

#makis spent her entire life listening to her family never shut up about the ten shadows shikigami #had one try to rip her fucking throat out #only to have everything she thought she knew turned on her head by some rando high schooler who thinks of them as her baby brothers puppies #the Zenin: the divine dogs are ancient and deadly weapons revered by our clan #tsumiki comes home every day and asks her brother to summon them so she can give them belly rubs: they’re good boys is what they are #Shiro: *absolutely rabid levels of aggression against everyone* #tsumiki: :( #Shiro: *sad puppy mode* #sea glass gardens #next chapter still almost done just on brief hold due to work being crazy #when tsumiki was growing up kuro and Shiro was just megumis invisible puppies who walked them home from school and kept them safe #she has suchhh a different frame of reference for them #she remembers a time where she didn’t even know if they were real but she knew that they made her brother happy and that he loved them #so she loved them too #tsumiki was a scared little girl all on her own who’s brother was suddenly seeing horrible monsters but he also had his puppies to protect #them. she’s always adored kuro and Shiro because she views them as megumis protectors and companions

[thebleedingeffect]

.

#okay I'm talking in the tags of this post cause shit is happening in my life and I gotta talk about it somewhere #one part of it is my step brother crashing and burning before my very eyes and there's nothing I can do to stop his own destructive actions #so it's just me watching this poor kid ruin his relationships and blame everything and everyone around him as he does so #despite the fact that he's undeniably been treated horribly at times- he's just turned that anger back onto others and himself #and I have no idea what to feel as I watch him get arrested. have drug problems. because I'm just waiting for the inevitable spiral #it doesn't help that my mom has been comparing us and saying that I'm the much better child and she wishes he was like me #not understanding that I could’ve been him if I was just more angry at the world at that age instead of being so sad and scared #and that leads me to my fucking mom cause like- I love her. we've been through alot of bad shit with her #I've almost done some really bad shit for her and I know that she loves me more than anything else #but it feels like its been getting more and more suffocating cause I'm not sure she's able to start seeing me as an adult #and start loosening her grip around me and let me breathe. to have my own experiences without her by my side #to be able to go places and imagine a future without her constantly by my side #she talks and it's like she doesn't even think to wonder that perhaps I want to form my own experiences #and experience the world on my own terms because I feel like I've spent my whole life having so little damn control #religious family. shit and neglectful father who turned into the exact opposite and nearly killed me. family who refuses to listen and talk #having to move and run immediately. put survival above all else. go to school. get out. and god I just wanna breathe #she loves me so much and I love her too. but I feel like I'll be sooner crushed if I stick here for long enough #I'm just mad that my life has been nothing but absolutely no love. sudden waves of intense love. absolutely nothing. sudden spike #and I feel like I'm just finally starting to form good. healthy relationships on my own terms and actually make friends #because I had no idea what I was doing when I was a kid cause I was so fucking lonely and hurting #now I just. gotta figure out how to tell my mom that I can't carry this expectation that I'll continue to stay forever by her side #it just feels like I'm her child first and a person second. and it sucks. it really sucks. #ough. spins and spins and spins and spins-

[themoonking]

sorry not sorry but if you were ever a prequel hater i'm gatekeeping you from being a prequel lover now that it's popular to do so. you don't get to shit on the prequels for no reason only to turn around and be a prequel stannie (ESPECIALLY a hayden christensen stannie) now that kenobi is the hot new star wars thing. obikins don’t touch my post, i am also gatekeeping you <3

#the prequels had shitty dialogue? that's subjective but either way its the same exact quality of dialogue as the original trilogy #so if you constantly make fun of the pt for its dialogue you HAVE to constantly make fun of the ot for ITS dialogue #or else we both know that thats not the actual reason its just an excuse #the prequels had shitty cgi? they were all made in the late nineties/early aughts i wont say this this was the most cutting edge shit around #but it was pretty standard quality special effects for the time #you can't hate on a film because it's cgi aged poorly its unfair because this was quality shit at the time #the story was dumb? i have nothing to say to that because i can't help you if you don't have taste #ewan mcgregor was the only actor from the prequels that the 'fanbase' was even a little bit kind to #hayden christensen never got a moment's peace about his (fucking GOOD) performance and yet somehow despite that #maintains nothing but love for the films and excitement and joy at his return which makes absolutely no sense #because given the amount of shit he got he should be going through a (completely justified) fucking joker arc fr #natalie portman was treated horribly for daring to be a woman in a star wars film and then even more after the films were made #for daring to talk about star wars #despite the fact that she was In The Movies #like that one tumblr post where someone sends an ask about who does she think she is wearing a star wars shirt when she probably #hasnt seen the movies #(same ask might have also called her a bitch idk) #where the person who received the ask has to be like 'that's natalie portman and she was IN THE MOVIES' #jake lloyd's life was basically ruined and he was a fucking child when he was in the phantom menace (never forgiving y'all for that one) #and even alleged prequel lovers act like they needed to be 'fixed' like the way some 'pt lovers' talk about tcw and how it 'fixed' the pt #as if they arent just spouting the same shit that pt haters say fr #but that's a topic for another day another post i wont get into that now #i speak #star wars #kenobi #i've been a prequel stannie basically from birth i wont allow former pt haters to jump on the bandwagon #you know how people who hated the amazing spider man films started being andrew garfield stans after nwh came out? #and ppl who were constantly shitting on rpatz for the cardinal sin of playing batman before a TRAILER was even released #suddenly became stannies once the film was released and was best batman film ever made? #and how ppl who were stannies from the beginning were like 'absolutely fucking not'?

[ribcageteeth]

10 characters 10 fandoms 10 characters

@aceofvase tagged me, hooray!

Ghostface (Billy Loomis/Stu Macher) (Scream)

Atem/Yami Yugi (Yugioh)

Eowyn (Lord of the Rings)

Guybrush Threepwood (Monkey Island)

Piccolo (Dragon Ball Z)

Ash Williams (The Evil Dead)

Sophie Hatter (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Simon the Ice King (Adventure Time)

Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III (Critical Role)

Griffith (Berserk)

I don’t know what that says about me, but I’m sure it’s a lot. I’ll tag @theonyxranger @krispykrememossnuts @primrosey and @spooksohana, but no pressure.

#june did some explanations so i’m gonna do that too! #1: ok so when I was a little kid i had a nightmare that there was a monster trying to break down the door to my room and it was terrifying #BUT when the door broke it was Ghostface on the other side and it immediately took me out of it. i was like ‘oh. that’s just Ghostface.’ #‘He isn’t scary he just falls down a lot and makes does silly voices on the phone. That’s not a monster that’s my friend Ghostface’ #and ever since then he’s been my friend Ghostface #2: Atem is my ultimate comfort character. something about being the other half of a pair and learning who you are through your friends #3: we love a bad bitch who breaks a prophecy by loophole. I love that she’s a regular person and she manages through sheer determination #4: speaking of being Just Some Guy. Guybrush is the smartest idiot i know and i love that #5: big green husband love of my life ( ꈍᴗꈍ) but also Scary Man Takes Care Of Kid is a trope I love #6: hes a genius he’s a war criminal he’s a scoundrel he’s a hero he has one braincell and a chainsaw hand what more do you want. he’s trans #7: book Sophie has one of my favorite magical powers: it works because you say it works #she also takes absolutely no shit and keeps the curse up herself because she likes the freedom of being old #8: look i have a lot of feelings about the Ice King and they’re way too complicated to leave in the tags of this post #9: finally a toxic revenge narrative that doesn’t condemn the revenge and it’s so early on that the rest of his arc is just healing #10: look. what do you want me to say. i can’t defend that one. horrible awful nasty garbage man. i love him so much. i hope he dies. #tag game

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

[chuluoyi]

only if you are up for a challenge. Naoya Zenin x f!reader in which he got her pregnant, then she left out of fear and he found her again and won't let her go :)))

when you loved me

- zen'in naoya x reader

you loved him... but you have had enough of the shit you've experienced—his arrogance, horrible family and another woman—and decided to leave him for the sake of yourself and your child

genre: angst to comfort, implied cheating, most likely ooc, honestly i almost made it a vs naoya fic with no consolation, happy ending aka naoya is decent

note: this ask... has been collecting dust in my askbox for about SIX MONTHS HAHAH, so sorry anon. i'll just leave it here and let it burn however just bc i don’t want to delete what i’ve written :’)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"How... how could you?"

Once, you thought, you were in love with Zen'in Naoya.

Well, you couldn't deny that he had personality flaws, but deep down, at one point in your life, you still believed that he too loved you.

You stared at him through tears brimming in your eyes, and he was just there, looking at the little being in your arms with a mix of shock and... something else you couldn't name. Dismay? Disappointment? Black rage?

"Go away, Naoya," you declared through your gritted teeth, pulling the baby in your arms even closer to you, as though fearing he might do something drastic. No way in hell would you let him after what he made you go through.

His eyes twitched as he tried to hold himself back from losing it. He took a few deep breathes in order to stay composed.

“Y/N, answer me,” he growled, still with the same condescending tone you remembered nine months ago, when you resolutely decided to leave him. “Is that baby mine?”

This was absolute madness. You had driven him insane. Naoya was certain he would go feral on you after you boldly left him without a trace, and when he found you, you were cradling this baby in your arms—which he was absolutely sure, enough to bet on his life, that the little thing was also his.

The woman he loves has given birth to his child.

You had imagined all sort of scenarios in which this very event would occur. This was one of them actually.

“No,” you firmly replied, gaze hardening. “Not yours. So kindly let yourself out of my house, Naoya.”

“Absolute bullshit!” he shouted and you flinched. His sudden rise of voice also woke the poor baby in your arms.

His heart hammered inside his chest. There were many things that made a mess of his head. You running away from him. The nights of madness he went through, wondering where you were and if you were alright. And now, the fact you had his baby without him ever knowing.

“Where were you? Why did you leave— you were having my—”

Fuck, he didn’t even know if he had a son or daughter.

You tried to console your child, now tears also streaming down your cheeks too. But it was more of frustration and anger rather than fear. “Can you blame me? Zen’in Naoya, you have made my life hell!”

“Hell?” It felt like an total insult to his pride. “How—!”

“You!” you screamed at his face. “I’ve had enough of your shit! And not to mention your father—that horrible drunkard who always looks down on me and treats me as if I were some gold digger! And also the whole of your goddamn, entitled clan—they always harass me right in front of my face!”

All of this stunned him on this place. Truth to be told, he knew a little to nothing at all about what his kin had done to you.

“I don’t need your family’s wealth! I can live on my own just fine even with your bastard!” Your tirade still hadn’t ended, but you had to put your baby on her cot first and dismiss her ever growing cries because you were tired of all of this. This life. This absolute nightmare that was caused by one fatal mistake of falling in love with Zen’in Naoya.

“But what the fuck? You’re asking why I left? How dare you ask me that after what you did!”

“What did I even do?!” His denial made a blood vessel about to burst inside your brain. “You never fucking told me what my father did! If only you did, I would have—”

“Look, you don’t even acknowledge it!” You were so tired of this. You wished you could die and just end all of this mental suffering. Why did this have to happen to you out of a billion people out there?

And yet, still, ultimately, you were happy with him. Those memories of the two of you together, just idyllically spending time together, or sometimes even playfully clashing opinions— to you, they were irreplaceable.

So, that's why...

Your heart shattered at the screeching cries of your baby. But you had to slam this in Naoya’s face.

“That was the last straw—seeing you with that fucking woman, you insufferable, demented, cheating bastard!”

That string of profanities you screamed at his face made Naoya finally lost it, as he gripped you tightly and his eyes flared with pure white-hot anger. “Say that again—say that again, you—!”

A toe-curling scream ripped out of your baby and you wrenched yourself out of his grasp through sheer will. Naoya was left reeling as he watched your horrified expression, as you plucked the baby into your arms again.

“Shh, shh,” you shushed your child amidst your own quivering lips. “Mama is here… Don’t cry…”

Right at that moment, it was as if something had pierced his chest and left a gaping hole. He really had a living baby. That baby was crying because of him.

The sting of the anger was still there, but now guilt started to overpower it as he regained his cool somewhat. “Is that a—” his breath hitched. He had to know. At the very, very least he had to know.

You didn’t immediately answer. You were still absolutely heartbroken by how it all turned out. But above all else, you could no longer deny him of his own child.

“A girl,” you sniffled.

A daughter. A daughter— in the one split second after knowing that, Naoya made the quickest decision of his life.

“Come back. Live with me,” he said, resolute. “You’re the mother of my child—I won’t let anyone lay their hand on you again. You have my word.”

Women are pain in the ass. That was what he used to think. Until you. Not when it's you. It astounded even himself how the sight of you like this was enough to drive knives into his chest.

“Look, that’s not it,” your tears were now falling free and fast, unable to hold it back longer. “How can you ask me that—when you went behind my back with another woman? Naoya, I love you—loved you. But isn’t this too cruel? How can you do this to me?”

“What woman are you talking about?” He tried to compose himself, but your accusation of him with someone whose existence he didn’t even know was getting in his nerves. “I have never been unfaithful to you! I know we don't always agree to things, but do you really think that low of me?”

“Evidently, I saw you with her. Your father made it a point that she’s your next plaything—or possibly even, fiancée!”

There was a memory that sprung into his head when you mentioned that. He recalled that vain, stupid woman, and he definitely remembered telling his father that he refused her. It wasn’t long before you disappeared.

Now everything clicked.

“Listen to me,” Naoya started, jaw clenching. “Whatever my father told you—those are all lies. I turned her down right there and then. I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that. You should have known that.”

Sobs wrecked your body and soul at this point. You knew where your place was. Zen’in Naoya was a man outside your league, his family made it so clear to you that you were nothing but dirt in their eyes. And perhaps that was why, back then, you chose to protect yourself and left him, believing he was capable of that too.

And now before you, you could see the man you loved once again.

“Come back to me.” His gaze burned you. “This time, for sure, I won’t let anyone touch you— I won’t let them even say a word about you! I will marry you, and we will raise our daughter together.”

“I… I don’t want to live there, Naoya…” you sobbed. You hated that place. Like hell would you have your pride stomped and deceived again.

“Alright, if that’s what you want. We won’t live there. You won’t have to see any of their faces again.”

Gazing into your face, marked by trails of tears, he finally, finally felt his heart break. And he thought, that in front of him now was the only woman who could upturn his whole trajectory.

“Just… come back. To me. I will take care of you. I swear it.”

#zenin naoya x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #zen'in naoya x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #zenin naoya #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fic #jjk naoya #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[waokevale]

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl toww #cotl leshy #cotl helet #cotl kallamar #cotl shamura #cotl oc #cotl ocs #cotl sozo #cotl yellow cat #more ocs #cotl fanart

[ratioaven]

spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!

aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong

something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.

from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.

i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.

that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.

so why does he act this way

all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.

as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.

but this brings me to my next point.

aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.

but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.

that says more than enough about his character.

and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.

and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.

i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.

let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.

#i didnt proof read this #aventurine thoughts #aventurine #hsr #hsr 2.1 #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail

[solarmorrigan]

Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #while I'm sure steve would love a dog too I just really see him as a cat person #he wants to spoil the shit out of something and that's what cats are made for #meanwhile Eddie is losing his mind because cats love him normally. they LOVE him! what is wrong with Steve's cat! #(she does not like sharing steve. that's it that's the reason) #solar wrote