#Taking One’s Vain Desires as God

[motherismotheringggg]

Omg pleasure dom Nicky. His whining above you as his thrust get sloppier but god he just wants to please you. Won’t cum until you do 😫

completely unraveled 🖤

summary: see the request above, anon you ATE with this one!!

type: pleasure dom! nicholas x sub! female reader

tags/warnings: 18+, hella smutty, cock worship, ice play, oral (f! receiving), orgasm restraint, cream pie, slight blood drawn, cream pie, cock warning, aftercare

author’s note: i need a cold cigarette after this is 😮‍💨

word count: 2771

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

For Nicholas, your pleasure was everything—it consumed him, drove him, defined every touch, every kiss, and every movement of his body against yours. It wasn’t just about the act itself; it was about the journey he took you on every time you were together. He reveled in discovering the things that made you gasp, made your breath hitch, and sent shivers cascading down your spine.

Nicholas had an uncanny ability to read you, to anticipate your needs as if your body spoke a language only he understood. He could sense the smallest shifts in your reactions—the way your fingers gripped the sheets or the way your voice wavered when you whispered his name. He knew when to push, when to slow, and when to draw you to the brink and hold you there, teetering on the edge of ecstasy until you were begging for release.

For him, the ultimate reward wasn’t just your climax—it was the way your body melted into his afterward, utterly spent, and the glazed, euphoric fucked look in your eyes that made his heart swell with pride. His mission wasn’t just to make you cum; it was to take you to places you’d never dreamed of, over and over again, until every nerve in your body sang with satisfaction. When he was with you, his sole purpose was clear: to utterly and completely worship you, leaving you breathless, trembling, and blissfully undone in his arms.

————

Now, here you were back in your shared loft apartment with your boyfriend, sitting on the edge of the bed, your skin still humming from the aftershocks of the last round. The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the window, casting shadows across the room as you caught your breath. Nicholas came back from the kitchen, he had something in his hand but you couldn’t quite see it.

He stood in front of you, completely exposed. His cock, still red and throbbing, you went to fill your mouth with him. You loved the way he felt in your mouth, the perfectly rounded tip, and the perfect vainness of his shaft, you loved to worship his body.

To kiss down his body, planting soft kisses on each of his abs before taking him in your mouth. To kiss and bite on his thighs, tracing small circles on them until he slowly guided you to his member.

But he stopped you, he wanted to look at you. He took a moment to appreciate you, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck and the way your breath hitched in between each exhale. His gaze softened, the lust in his eyes replaced by something deeper, more intimate. You felt it too—the unspoken connection that tethered you both.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low and tender, just the slightest hint of concern mixed with the satisfied edge of a man who knew exactly what he’d just done to you. He wasn’t asking for reassurance; he wanted to know how deep he’d taken you, how far he could push you the next time.

You nodded, turning slightly to face him, your lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Thank you, Nicholas," you whispered, the words thick with affection and desire. He liked when you thanked him; when you made him feel as special as he made you. He reached down to cup your face, letting his thumb grace your bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful when you look at me like this…like need me”, he said as he glared at you, his eyes were dark with lust.

He leaned down to kiss you, grabbing your face in his hand as he had full control. The kiss started slow but grew into something deeper. Your tongues wrestled each other, before his slipped of your mouth and licked you. Licked your lips, licked your cheek, licked wherever he pleased. You were wrapped up in the euphoria of the kiss that you hadn’t see what he had in his hand from before.

It wasn’t until you felt the cold burn of an ice cube on your back, still covered in sweat and radiating heat from before. You let out a deep long hiss, falling into Nicholas as he continued to kiss on you. You were breathless, barely able to call out his name but still needing to let him know how good he felt,

“mmm Nicholas, that feels so good…”

“Is that right baby?”

“Yes Nicholas, I need you so bad”

“Tell me where you want me baby”

“Nicholas I --” you were cut short by Nicholas dropping to his knees, taking that same ice cube from your back, which had melted down some, and putting it in his mouth.

“Don't stop baby, tell me what you want”, he said, muffled with the ice cube slightly muffling him.

Nicholas leaned in, his cool lips with the ice cube brushing your clit, your back arched with sheer pleasure. Your pelvis instinctively shot backward, but Nicholas quickly wrapped his hands around you pulling you closer, as he continued.

The coolness was intoxicating, heightening every sensation, every nerve ending sparking to life under his touch. Your body trembled, shivers of pleasure wracking you as you grasped at his shoulders for stability.

You tried to pull away, but Nicholas wasn’t having it. His strong hands were on you, pulling you closer, keeping you in place as his lips continued to work you, the ice teasing and torturing you in the most delicious way.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin as he kept you pressed against him, determined to make you beg for more.

The weight of his presence, the passion in his touch, was almost too much to bear. The ice and his lips worked in perfect harmony, sending you spiraling towards something that felt dangerously close to madness.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. "I want you, Nicholas," you gasped, barely able to form coherent words through the waves of pleasure flooding you. "I need your dick baby”, you whined and pouted, letting him know bad you craved him.

He kept going, he could tell you were close, the way your core squirmed under him, the way you thrashed about, the whimpering you tried to contain but failed miserably at. He knew you were right on the edge ready to to unravel and he wanted you to cum right there on his face.

“Nicholas … Nicholas please baby, please fuck me”, you whined out more, thighs clenched as your hips rode in rhythm with him. He didn’t let up once, when the ice cube completely melted, he worked at you with his tongue. The way he lapped at your wetness drove you crazy, every flick of his tongue had an individual hand in undoing you. When he sucked on your bud, you shuttered as your eyes rolled back into your head.

You knew Nicholas wanted you to hold out as long as possible. He reveled in it—how you could push yourself to the very edge, fighting the overwhelming wave of pleasure just to stay in control, just to tease him. He loved it. The way your body trembled, the way your breath hitched in anticipation, it drove him wild. He knew exactly when you were on the brink, when you couldn’t take it anymore, but you fought to keep from falling apart. The anticipation in your eyes, the way your muscles clenched—he lived for that moment.

And when you finally did let go, when you couldn’t hold it in any longer, when you surrendered completely to the pleasure, that’s when he felt it. The pride, the triumph of having taken you to that place, completely fucking you to your limit turned him on. The way you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin as you came undone, made him feel like the king of your world.

Your body quivered with the first wave of release, but Nicholas wasn’t done. He was relentless, his lips, his hands, his body all pushing you further, coaxing out every drop of pleasure, bringing you right back to the edge again and again. He wasn’t just content with one, not when he knew you could handle more.

You tried to hold on, but with each touch, each movement of his hands, it became impossible. The way he worked you, with such precision and care, the way he knew your body better than you did—it was overwhelming.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, as if he knew you were on the brink of breaking. And he was right. He always knew. “Don’t fight it.”

The heat between you two was undeniable, and as the second orgasm hit, more intense than the first, your body gave in completely, trembling uncontrollably against him. Nicholas held you close, steadying you as you went through the motions, his hands gentle but firm, the pride in his eyes showing just how much he loved every second of it.

As you came down from the high, his lips brushed over your thighs, soft and tender, contrasting the intensity of what had just happened. "You’re perfect," he whispered looking up at you with a dark lusty look. His eyes were huge and dilated., He moved up to you to hold you as you caught your breath. You had shifted up on the bed while he lay next to you, rubbing you and making sure you were okay. You had caught your breath enough to pull him in for a kiss, another deep and passionate one. You moaned into each other’s mouths as the kiss grew deeper.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Nicholas, sensing the shift in the air, took the initiative. His hands moved to your sides, pulling you beneath him as he gently but firmly positioned himself on top of you.

He paused for a brief moment, pulling away slightly, his eyes dark with desire but also a hint of concern. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, rough with barely-contained lust, his hand sliding down to massage your clit. He knew you wanted him, he just wanted to hear you whimper to say it.

You met his gaze, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths, your brows furrowing as you nodded. "Yes," you breathed out. "I need you so bad."

Nicholas didn’t need any more encouragement. He sat up, positioning himself above you as he adjusted to your entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, he slipped inside, the feeling of your wetness guiding him in with ease.

The moment he entered you, you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped your lips. It was like an instinctual reaction to the depth and warmth of him filling you, your body instinctively arching toward him as your nails dug into his back.

Nicholas’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the feeling of being buried inside you. It wasn’t just about the act for him—it was about the way you responded, how you opened up to him in ways that made his heart race with a mixture of lust and tenderness. Your pleasure was his fuel, his every move driven by the need to make you feel as good as possible.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice rough and low. “So fucking wet and tight for me”, he continued, staying still for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness of him inside you, his hands resting on either side of your body, holding himself up. The connection between you two was electric, both of you feeling the intensity of the moment, but Nicholas was waiting for you. He wanted to feel you tremble, wanted to see the pleasure flood your face.

He gave you a moment, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back any longer. Slowly, he started to grind, pulling back just enough before thrusting forward, the rhythm building as he sought out that perfect angle, the one that made your back arch and your breath hitch, knowing he was touching your cervix from how big he was.

His eyes locked with yours, watching every shift of your body, the way you reacted to each stroke. Every thrust of his hips was calculated to bring you closer to that peak, and with each movement, your moans grew louder, more desperate. The tension between you both was almost unbearable as he pushed you closer to the edge, but you were holding out for him—just like you always did.

Knowing what he wanted, you were holding out for him. Your body belonged to Nicholas, for him to play with and orchestrate an orgasm from you that almost brought you to tears.

Nicholas could see it in your eyes. You were so close, so close to breaking, but you held on. Your body quivered beneath him, straining against the delicious pressure building inside you. He knew you well enough to understand that you enjoyed the struggle—the way it felt to be pushed to your absolute limit, to be on the edge of complete surrender, all for him.

Your lip was swollen from how hard you were biting it, the ache in your chest growing with each thrust. Your nails had drawn blood from Nicholas’s back as you dug into him, the sting of your pleasure matching the heat coursing through your veins.

"Let me know when you're ready to cum, baby," Nicholas whispered hoarsely, his voice strained with his own restraint. His hair was floppy and slightly saturated with sweat, hanging messily over his face as he held himself above you, never once breaking the rhythm of his thrusts. The sight of him—wild and consumed by you—was almost too much to handle.

You tried to hold on a little longer, wanting to make him wait, but his relentless pace was beginning to unravel you, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the warmth pooling in your stomach as you fought to stay just a little longer.

Nicholas’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his breaths growing shallow, each one a little more ragged as he became more desperate. He could tell you were close—he always could—but the need to hear you fall apart before he did had him on the edge of his own control.

"Baby, please..." His voice was softer now, almost whiny, as his hips faltered for a split second. "Let go for me... I need to see you cum. Please." The desperation in his words only spurred you on, pushing you to the brink.

His thrusts started to get sloppier, less controlled, as if he was teetering on the edge himself. The wet sound of his cock slamming in and out of your wetness grew louder, the intensity in his eyes matching the frenzy in his movements. "I can’t... I can't wait, baby," he muttered, voice broken as he pulled you closer, pressing into you deeper, harder. His cock slid into you with an urgency that matched the mounting tension, his pace erratic but still aimed at pushing you toward your climax.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. With a sharp gasp, your body finally surrendered, the pleasure bursting through you in waves. Your back arched off the bed, your nails dragging down his back even more as the orgasm hit you, intense and overwhelming.

Nicholas's eyes locked on you, his jaw tightening as he felt you clench around him, riding out your release. He gave one last desperate thrust, whining as the pressure finally broke inside him. "Fuck," he groaned, his movements sloppy and erratic as he spilled into you, his body shuddering with his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he held you close, both of you still panting for air. His head rested on your chest as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the thumping of his heart against your skin, while he was still throbbing inside of you.

"You’re so perfect for me baby” he murmured between breaths, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. "You were made for me"

You ran your fingers through his damp hair, gently soothing him as he slowly regained his composure. The bond between you two, unspoken but felt, lingered in the air, heavy and undeniable. Nicholas had given everything to make sure you were satisfied, and in that moment, as you both lay tangled in each other’s arms, you knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror

Something is wrong with your beloved Angel, yet you cannot place the dreadful feeling in the depths of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't made to comprehend such divine truths.

5. Honour thy father and thy mother

It was birthed from the void of the Heavens. No parent governs over its will. No being controls its resolve.

Father...? The word rings and echoes across ancient times, forgotten eons. It does not remember its meaning. All it knows is you, and you are enough.

4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy

"Six days you shall labor, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God." Of course. The law is clear, or at least it should be. Its mind navigates the meaning, suddenly engulfed by a mysterious haze.

Six days it labors, it serves, it worships. It exists for you, to please you and fulfill your desires. Your wish is its command.

Six days of creation. It has been molded just for you, to fit all the nooks and corners of your body and soul. You have taught it how to love, how to crave, how to need. It starves for your touch.

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

"Oh, God", you cry, clinging to the holy beast. It shivers in raw bliss, its many hands embracing your lewd body, drooling and panting in unquenchable desire. Its mind is possessed by one singular thought: to breed you, to own you, to fuck more profanities out of your pretty, little mouth.

The word swirls inside its head, baptized to a new sense: God is when you reach your peak, when you're within its voracious hold. Your trembling hands reach for the horns.

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image

It yearns to create, to be the architect for once. Your home is littered in unfinished pieces: bizarre, geometrical paintings, abstract statues chiseled in most refined detail, music sheets of notes foreign to your human ears. All of them have something in common - it's how the Angel perceives you.

You fill up its senses, and the essence drips onto its works of art. It gathers the objects of worship together, like the outline of an altar, like an inviting chamber of prayer.

1 Thou shalt have no other gods before me

The abyssal creature bows before you, its many eyes devouring your form. The long, black claws reach out, like a beggar scraping its way out of the depths of ennui.

You're a blessing from the Heavens.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [First Half]

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱

daughter of aphrodite! reader x luke castellan 💘

IN WHICH.. luke would carry the world on his shoulders for the approval of your mother

warning! this fic contains- like two cuss words // feminine reader // one slight reference to sex (lukes a virgin lolol) // not proofread (yet)

🎧- bewitched by laufey

3.3k

You had always been the favorite of your mother, Aphrodite. With the way she frequently delivered extravagant gifts, ranging from beauty supplies to carefully crafted swords, it was clear you were granted special treatment from the typically vain goddess. Others grew envious of your glorious relationship, watching from afar as you had yet another conversation with her. 

The unfortunate truth was that you worked your ass off to receive a fraction of affection from your mother. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready, biting your tongue as others gossiped about you, and training hours per day were just some of the cruel circumstances you had to endure in order to keep up your facade. Everything about you had to be seemingly perfect, which is hard to maintain when living in such harsh conditions.

Your ethereal beauty and charming personality gained the attention of many, making Aphrodite proud. However, no matter how many demigods asked you out, they were all politely declined. This wasn’t a personal choice, but instead one forcefully implemented by your mom. 

Every camper knew of the strange rule the goddess had set for you. Not one soul would be allowed to take you on a date without her approval. Unfortunately for you, she was extremely strict and harsh when choosing. It was odd that the ruler of love would prevent her dearest kin from experiencing the joys of having a partner, but the gods did little with rationality.

During your weekly prayer one evening, you found yourself pondering why Aphrodite seemed to reject all suitors. Seeking answers, you broached the subject with her. In response, Aphrodite professed a desire for nothing but the best for you, her words punctuated by the subtle shifts in her mood. Intrigued by her cryptic response, you couldn't help but remain curious, uncertain whether she spoke the truth or spun another detailed tale.

Among the crowd of diligent campers who showered you with attention, there remained one who truly stood out. Luke Castellan, the offspring of Hermes, had harbored a profound admiration for you from the moment of your arrival. While others were fixated solely on your captivating exterior, he found himself drawn to the depths of your enchanting personality. Your passionate expression for the things that ignited your soul—be it delving into the mysteries of ancient artworks or nurturing the vibrant flower fields—held him spellbound.

One day, the immense ache in his lovelorn heart became too agonizing to bear. As the sun awoke from its slumber and you elegantly devoured a ripe pear, he asked you to follow him into the lush forest. Despite the slightly sketchy request, you obliged, trusting Luke with your whole heart.

"I hate to sound blunt, but why are we here again?" You queried, batting away pesky flies and dodging branches that lunged out intrusively.

"I'm determined to take you out," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt creep in as you cringed with uncertainty.

“Luke, you know how my mom feels-“ 

“Yeah, I know how your mom feels. But how do you feel?” He blurted, his coffee brown eyes staring deep into yours, and for a moment, you saw the deepest part of him that was hidden from the rest of the world. 

“What’d mean?” You questioned him, trying to wrap your head around his statement, like it was a foreign concept for someone to ask how you perceived the situation.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Luke whispered.

“I’d love to, but she-“ His response was accompanied by a light shake of his head, his voice gaining intensity as he delivered his next sentence with austerity.

“Tell me the truth. If Aphrodite wasn’t your mother, would you date me?”

Silence flooded the woods; it seemed even the birds stopped singing to hear your much-awaited response. 

“Yes, I would.” You said it honestly, twiddling with your hands out of nervousness for your mother’s reaction.

“Okay then. I have a plan; don’t worry.” Luke interlocked your fingers, gently dragging you back to the pavilion with a grin plastered across his face.

As the day unfolded in its familiar rhythm, there was an intriguing twist: you found yourself stealing glances at Luke more frequently, your fondness for him blossoming rapidly. Anticipation brewed as you prayed for the success of whatever scheme Luke had concocted. Yet, the nagging suspicion of your mom’s disapproval gnawed at you, even if Luke was nicknamed the camp's "golden boy."

As dusk approached and dinner was served, the absence of Luke grasped your attention. The atmosphere lacked the presence of a couple other different Hermes offspring, too; the usual crowd at the wooden picnic tables was now missing. Brushing aside budding concerns, you settled beside your siblings, concealing any anxieties that threatened your composure.

You would have thought Hades took a visit to Cabin 11 with the way everyone was scrambling around. Dozens of clothes littered the floor, the room looking as if a freight train plowed through. Luke was in the center of the mess, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully examined his outfit options.

“A suit is definitely too much, right? I mean, I think it would be weird to go completely dressed out.” He started, with Chris standing next to him as they both pondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Ditch the suit.” His friend replied, tossing the crisp attire back into the closet. 

“So do I wear the camp shirt or something else?” Luke interrogated the rest of the children.

“Camp shirt.” Chris said, but another older female camper chimed in.

“Obviously not. It’s a disgusting neon orange.” She declared, rolling her eyes.

“I think it makes him look devoted to the camp.” Chris defended.

“Oh please, it washes him out. Try this navy blue top.” The Hermes girl tossed a crinkled polo at him, turning away as he slipped the shirt on.

Luke looked in the mirror, pleased with his choice. All of his peers stared at him in judgment before coming to the conclusion that the deep blue suited him.

“Told you. Now hurry up. You can’t miss dinner.” She uttered, shooing him out of the packed cabin. 

All eyes were focused on him as he walked to supper since he was out of the appropriate attire. He snagged his dinner, rushing to sit next to you. 

“Cute shirt. A little late though; dinner's almost over.” You complimented, and the rest of your fashion-inclined siblings nodded in agreement. Luke felt his cheeks flush from your words and because of the overwhelming stares provided by campers.

“Thank you. I’m not really hungry anyway." He responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. His stomach was doing cartwheels as he counted down the minutes until the burnt offerings. As soon as the sound echoed through the air, he practically sprinted to be the first.

He slid almost all his food into the metal tin can (which he would definitely miss later that night when he went to bed hungry) and, with shaky hands, lit the dinner. The aroma of multiple dishes mixed into one and then set on fire was putrid, but luckily for Luke, that’s just what he needed to catch the attention of Aphrodite.

As she heard the pleads of the boy, who was begging for a conversation, and smelled the smoke, it was enough to send her spiraling down onto Earth. She was gorgeous—ten times prettier than any image Luke could have pictured in his head.

“I'm Luke Castellan.” He stumbled out nervously, but recollected and gathered his thoughts.

“I want to date your daughter, Y/N.” He declared, noticing the way the goddess looked away with anger. 

“And before you say anything,” he continued, “I swear I have the best intentions.” 

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes, inspecting him.

“I don’t know. Many boys just like you have claimed the same.” She spoke to him with such clarity.

“It’s different; I can promise you that. I’m a good kid.” He pleaded, growing desperate as he swallowed.

“You aren’t sounding much different than the children before you.” She replied, and Luke could tell she was about to walk away, so he did what he thought was best and blurted out what came to mind.

“I’ve never smoked, I pray to the gods every night, and to be honest, I rarely step foot out of camp. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, and I’m the best swordsman in camp—at least that’s what everyone says. I’m still a virgin, and I’ve never even glanced at another girl in any romantic way because the only one I have eyes for is your daughter. Please, ma’am.”

Aphrodite's eyebrows lifted, and her mouth agape at his sudden speil. She had to admit that it was quite impressive.

“Hm, I suppose you have made a compelling argument. I’ll let you take her out on one date, but only if it goes well will you be allowed to see her again. And she must approve of you.”

Luke smiled at her, letting out heavy breaths he didn't even know he was holding on to. 

“Thank you so much. I can assure you, you won’t regret it.” He thanked the goddess, who just shrugged and left him in the dark forest. Too thrilled to care, he joyfully jogged back to the cabins, where his bunkmates patiently waited.

He shoved his way inside, panting, excitement bubbling within him. The air in the cabin seemed to crackle with anticipation as everyone turned their attention toward him, their eyes lit with curiosity, waiting for him to spill the details of what had transpired.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. Instantly, the air was filled with the sound of cheers and joyous squeals, his friends erupting into a wave of celebratory exclamations.

“Well, sorta. As long as the first date goes okay,” Luke added, his enthusiasm slightly dampening as he lowered his head, a hint of uncertainty tainting the original exhilaration of his announcement. The cabin fell into a sudden hush, a sense of disappointment crushing the once great news. 

“Then we better get to planning,” Chris interjected, lighting a spark of hope. Everyone returned to their primary delirium, huddling together to craft the picture perfect night.

Campers threw out ideas for the date on the spot, ranging from the location to his preferred mannerisms. His sisters used their experiences with being a women to instruct him on how to act, telling him what was considered acceptable and what to avoid. The rest of his siblings and friends scoped out the land, deciding on the perfect site.

After enduring the lengthy schooling, Luke stole a fleeting moment away from his lesson, his heart set on sharing the newfound momentous revelation with you. The bonfire raged on, campers swarming around it like hungry sharks. Old friendships were being rekindled, and new bonds were forming. Admits the social circle stood you, who laughed as you spoke to the Apollo kids.

With a grin that illuminated his features, Luke observed you from a distance, captivated by the infectious positivity that radiated from you. As you strayed away from the chaotic crowd, your eyes met his. His feet propelled him forward, drawing him towards you. 

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice filled with genuine excitement as he approached.

“Hey! Guess what?” Luke's words tumbled out in a rush, his eagerness present as he awaited your reaction.

“What’s up?” you inquired, intrigued by his anxious body language.

“Your mom said yes,” Luke revealed, his expression a mix of anticipation and restrained enthusiasm.

“What?” you gasped, disbelief coloring your features before giving way to unbridled joy.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, the thrill evident in his voice.

Excitement flourished within you, causing you to leap into his arms, angelic laughter filling the atmosphere as he lifted you up and spun you around. The cutesy scene hooked the attention of others, whispers beginning to travel.

Like a raging wildfire, Luke's announcement spread swiftly through the crowd, resonating with everyone within earshot. Within minutes, the joyous information spread through the gathering. Some were jealous, spreading rumors the moment they heard them, and some were just happy for the two.

Neither of you cared about the whispers and gossiping of those around you, their chatter fading into the background as you were enveloped in his warm embrace. The world seemed to melt away as he gently set you down, his touch lingering on your skin.

As you looked up into his eyes, time seemed to stand still, and the intensity of your love was reflected in the depths of his gaze. With each beat of your heart, you felt a surge of affection wash over you, your gaze softening as you looked upon him with adoration. There, in the depths of his eyes, you found comfort, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

"7 o'clock okay for tomorrow?" Luke's voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to the present moment. His words sent a tingle of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Mhm," you murmured in response, your mind still lingering on the warmth of his touch, until a daughter of Demeter called you over, disrupting the spell cast by Luke. As you tore yourself away, a shiver raced down your spine, the absence of his soothing hands leaving you feeling strangely hollow.

In the darkness of the night, neither of you seemed able to sleep with the thought of each other prominent in your minds. Remembering all of the special moments you shared, even before today, summoned a mixture of emotions. If this date didn’t go according to plan, the memories would be permanently lost, drowned out by new experiences.

Eventually, Hypnos blessed you with a night’s rest, and before you knew it, it was 6 p.m., an hour before the long-awaited gathering with Luke. Your siblings were currently helping you get ready in the vast space that was the Aphrodite cabin.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Urged your closest sister, her fingers deftly working through your hair as she leaned in.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you met her gaze in the mirror, uncertainty dancing in your eyes. "No, not really," you admitted with a sigh, feeling a knot of anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach as you nervously tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination as she dropped the task of defining your hair, her attention now fully focused on the impending dilemma. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly crossed the room to her bustling closet, the sound of fabric rustling filling the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

You watched her with amusement, as she rummaged through her collection.

With a triumphant exclamation, she emerged from the depths of her closet, a victorious smile gracing her lips as she presented you with a selection of carefully curated outfits. "I'm sure we can find something that'll work," she declared with confidence, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to lay out the options before you.

She presented you with a breathtaking spring dress, its delicate fabric decorated with teensy flowers. You ran your fingers over the dainty material, embracing its beauty.

"It's perfect," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper, as you marveled at the garment.

"I know, right!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious as she twirled around in delight. "This is so exciting! Your first date!" she continued, her words bubbling with enthusiasm as she continued to fuss over your appearance.

You attempted to summon a smile, but despite your best efforts, the flicker of unease in your eyes did not go unnoticed by your sister.  She gently squeezed your hand, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"What's wrong?" She questioned you softly, her hands pausing in their task of arranging your hair as she turned to look at you through the expansive vanity mirror.

"It's nothing, really. Just... anxious, I guess," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to find the right words to express the complexity of your thoughts.

"Hey, it'll go great. And if not, there's a long line of suitors out there waiting for you," she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding, "so I'm sure Mom would approve of at least one of them."

"But I don't want it to be them," you confessed, your voice shaky as you admitted your true feelings. "I want it to be Luke."

She slightly frowned, grabbing your head and leaning into you. You shut your eyes to block the tears, discovering a place of love in her arms. A sudden knock on the wood door interrupted the warmth of silence.

She hopped up with eager anticipation, practically skipping to the door to greet Luke. As she opened it, you seized the opportunity to slip into the closet and change into the dress she had requested.

Luke stood on the doorstep, his hands fidgeting with a bouquet of ethereal flowers, their petals shimmering in the sunlight. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes as he glanced around, searching for you.

"Uh, is Y/N here?" he asked, his voice laced with nervousness as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, she is," your friend replied, her tone firm, her gaze locking onto Luke's with determination. "But before you go any further, I need to warn you. You must take excellent care of her, no matter what. Because if you don't, I'll come find you personally."

“I promise.” He stuck out his pinky, interlocking it with hers to signify an agreement he would uphold. Stepping outside the cramped enclosure, you checked your reflection and headed towards the door. 

"Hi!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing out into the air, breaking through the awkward tension that had settled between the two of them. Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed as he turned to face you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips upon noticing your presence.

"Hey." He whispered softly, capturing in the sight of you standing before him, your captivating looks leaving him momentarily speechless. You smiled, threading your arm between his and escaping the cabin. 

"I brought you these." Luke stated, his voice tinged with admiration as he handed you the colorful floral arrangement. You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, the fragrance of the flowers filling the air as you gently wafted them in your hand.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, touched by his thoughtful gesture, "they're beautiful."

Lost in conversation, you continued hiking together, the winding path leading you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke had a destination in mind, his steps purposeful as he guided you along the trail . The scenery around you shifted, the dense foliage giving way to a small deserted landscape.

Atop the grassy bank, a thick picnic blanket lay spread out, its vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery that surrounded it. An assortment of fruits and treats adorned the blanket, ranging from juicy strawberries to decadent chocolates.

As you settled onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning your every movement, you couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before you. Stretching out into the distance was the icy blue lake, its surface shimmering in the golden light of the sun, which peeked over the horizon as if to witness the magic of the moment.

As the minutes flew by, the loud croaking of cicadas immersed and the sky gradually transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars.

Wrapped in Luke's arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries and uncertainties of the day melting away.

In that moment, as you lay together under the vast starlit sky, you felt a profound connection to Luke. A realization that filled you with a sense of joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Whether your mom approved of your relationship or not (spoiler alert: she did), it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were with Luke, and in his arms, protected from the surrounding cruel world.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[cultlix]

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?

pair. idol! minho x fem reader | genre. toxic relationship, smut, angst | warnings. oral sex (rimming), penetrative/unprotected sex, fingering, cum tasting, use of pet names, possessive behavior.

synopsis. God, hearing you like this, would have been worth all the misery and the desolation you left behind and inside his aching heart each time you swore you couldn't take it anymore, would have been worth every wound, every risk, every sacrifice. After all, he said to himself, mind dangerously blinded by his constant, almost chronic fear of losing you for good, haven't we already been there?

author's note. on my period...

➽──────────────❥

Insane.

The way you depended on each other, hurt each other, loved each other was just insane.

"Spread your legs."

Minho stood behind you, shower water pouring violently on his sculpted shoulder blades, his naked chest firmly pressed against your arched back as his tongue licked your lobe, mouth sucking on it, then moved lazily to your neck. His hand untightened his grip around your throat to slide on your sensual, swollen breast, fingertips delicately circling, pinching your perked, sensitive nipple.

"Fuck…" you whimpered, feeling his other free hand ghosting suddenly on your inner thigh, unbearably too far from your soft nub.

"Bid me to stop," he whispered, his lenght strongly twitching when he heard you crying of pleasure when he finally reached your clit, skimming it, "tell me to go, tell me you don't want this and I'll disappear from your life." He brushed it, so slowly that he could almost distinguish the exact moment your sex started gushing its honey-like essence under his velvety touch.

You pressed your forehead against the shower wall, palms well planted on it desperately looking for any kind of support, mouth hanging open while trying in vain to formulate an answer that could make any sense.

It was always like this between you and Minho, severing and then unshamelessly crawling back to each other, to the pain and the torment, to the angry, consuming sex, to whatever killed you and made you feel alive at the same time, slipping deep down the limbo you both created the moment your worlds collided in the blink of an eye. The ultimate, lethally addictive, indulgent form of self-destructive behavior. Haven't we already been there? you asked yourself, lost in the sweetest, most dangerous of all deliriums.

"One word," he urged you, mastering superbly like no other the art of pleasing and teasing as they were one and the same, "that's all I need from you."

Just one word. Your death sentence, your own, personal twisted kind of salvation.

"Don't," you implored.

He knelt down, hands grabbing your hips, forcing you to bend so that your buttocks were close enough to his face. You blushed immediately feeling so exposed, vulnerable, hissing at that new, uncomfortable proximity keeping you guessing. He held his grasp around them, indulging in the sensation of their flawless roundness, of the temperature of your skin raising, of the muscles of your legs tensing and flexing pervaded by rough frissons of excitement.

"Fuck angel, your scent…so wet for me and I didn't even started with you yet." You cried, incapable of any self control, breath coming out in short, irregular gasps when his agile tongue smoothly caressed your most secret hole, flattening to stroke it lusciously, dancing at a calculated, devastating sluggishness, the rosy tip drawing perfect halos on the edges of your entrance, tapping swiftly on its forbidden core to make you writhe in ecstasy for the stimulation, to make you stretch enough to allow him to enter you with his insatiable wet muscle. His fingers slid carefully into your dripping cunt, easily plunging in and coming out of it coated in your silken, delicious nectar, at a calm, gentle pace, curling, scissoring, relishing how deeply they could push themselves inch by inch inside your desirous, beseeching body.

Minho felt his erection growing harder, his exigency to have you, to possess you completely becoming so intolerable that he sincerely worried about his own sanity.

Shit, can't live without this, he thought, cock throbbing unrestrainedly while watching you losing every fiber of yourself under his hungry eyes, everytime his quick arts and his skilled tongue increased or decreased their rhythm on both your crevices to please you, to torture you. Since the day he first exchanged glances with you fortuitously, there has never been any greater obsession than fucking you, any stronger yearning than making you cum calling his name, showing you how you were supposed to feel when a real man was inside you, thrusting into your tight, tempting little pussy so hard and fast, so deep and good to teach you that lust and love would have always been intrinsecally, viscerally indissoluble if you'd allow him to make you his.

"Minho, I…" you panted, agonizing, under the inescapable force of the most sublime oblivion as he added another deadly dose of pleasure by playing with your clit with his other hand.

God, hearing you like this, would have been worth all the misery and the desolation you left behind and inside his aching heart each time you swore you couldn't take it anymore, would have been worth every wound, every risk, every sacrifice. After all, he said to himself, mind dangerously blinded by his constant, almost chronic fear of losing you for good, haven't we already been there?

Minho recognized the sporadic contractions becoming recurring, stronger, barely painful around his digits, the simultaneous jerks, the fragmented gasps, the weak, subtle undulating motions that your hips made to desperately match his strenuous pace, and his name, fuck, his name on your lips, sounding like the purest, most innocent of supplications, making his thick, pulsating shaft so stiff, leaking so much already, that he couldn't resist any longer.

Can't, no, won't live without this, without her, he promised himself, as he watched you slowly becoming defenseless at his mercy when his licks got more intense, painstakingly prolonged, and his shoves got uncontrollably feverish, till there'll be nothing left of me, nothing left of both of us.

Your orgasm was shockingly potent, annihilating, making you cum shattered and overwhelmed by an alarming, enticing whirlwind of conflicts, of doubts and delights.

Your instinct, now scarcely reliable, struggling between telling you to run away from him and exhorting you to trust him once again. If this is what pain feels like, I want it, I'll take it, God, I'll take everything as long as it's for him, you reassured yourself, slowly recovering from that total state of daze.

He got up, his imposing figure upright behind your tiny one again, his tentalizing hardness impossible to ignore pressed against your back.

"Look at me," he ordered under his breath with his most authoritative tone, making you turn around with a certain impetuosity, forcing you to meet his enigmatic, dignified look, "open your mouth."

His fingers brushed against your parted lips till they slithered swiftly into your cavity.

"This is what your pussy tastes like when I'm fucking you, the smell, the flavor that stays on my skin, on my mind for days everytime that gorgeous body of yours melts underneath my touch, reacting to me and me only. Did you really think I'd give up so easily on you? On us? No chance. No other men out there, I swear, no other fucking men out there is gonna take you away from me. Do you understand?"

You stared back at him still sucking on his long digits, never avoiding eye contact provocatively.

"Tell me you understand," he insisted.

You nodded, blinking. "I do."

"Alright, fuck me now."

Minho pushed you against the wall and kissed you voraciously, your mouth willingly surrendering to his ferocious, ravenous one, enraptured by the sensation of feeling carried away, devoured by his irrepressible fervor, his ardent desire. He lifted your leg and put it around his waist, holding firmly your thigh, then rubbed his cock against your softness to let it drown entirely in the lush mixture of both your juices. Moans and cries raised almost at unison when his tip pressed against your slippery folds, when you both watched agog his girth feverishly disappearing into your warm, narrow slit.

He hissed cursing, shutting his eyes and lowering his head, enjoying the lewd sound of how your cunt clenched so greedily around him as his hips crashed rhythmically, impatiently, roughly against yours. He focused spellbound on your flawless features as you begged him to wreck you, to take whatever he wanted from you, everything and even more, to leave just the crumbs of your mind, body and soul, because they meant less than nothing if they weren't for him to take, to own.

"Tell me you love me," he commanded in breathy murmurs, voice shaking and breaking when he heard your words, when your pussy started clutching his turgid cock making him feel powerless, strenghtless, anxious to finally unleash his long-desired orgasm.

"M-Minho…" you plead, his shoves still dangerously draining, precise.

"S-shit, angel, say it," he asked again, wrestling with the feral need to let himself go, "f-fuck, I can't wait n-no more."

You pressed your forehead against his, the tip of your nose skimming his, tongue playfully tracing his upper lip, sighing, calling his name passionately, and then three whispered words, saturated with ardor and devotion.

"I love you."

He released inside you, moaning loudly into your open mouth, attempting to seal your tacit promise of forever with a fiery kiss, making you cum shuddering violently in his safe embrace, as his thick seed flowed painting your convulsing walls, sending you on the verge of euphoria for the second time that night.

"I love you," he echoed, placing a chaste kiss on your temple and nuzzling at the crook of your neck, his rock-hard lenght slowly softening still buried under your skin before he delicately pulled out, "stop pushing me away, stop putting my goddamn patience and my constancy to the test." His words were clear and simple, unvarnished, ten times more dangerous for that brutal honesty, authenticity.

"I swear, there's nothing worse, utterly wrong or more harmful that I can do to myself than staying away from you," Minho brushed his thumb against your lips, lowering his tone to give emphasis to his last phrase, "don't fucking make me, angel."

You kissed him on your tiptoes and that old, terrifying sensation of falling into quicksand was there again, but now it felt almost familiar, comforting. Though it was insane the way you depended on each other, hurt each other, loved each other, it was the only one that worked for you, that somehow felt real.

And it was fine like that.

You would have taken everything as long as it was for him.

The late night fights, the handwritten apology notes on your pillow the morning after, the unavoidable sense of alienation when you were thrown into his sparkling, deceiving world of favors and privileges, the mistrust of his closest friends suggesting him to move on and forget about you, the unwholesome and shared jelousy leading to fuck each other senseless in some random night club bathroom just because someone had the audacity of watching you while you were on the dancefloor, or of smiling at him while he was sipping a drink sat alone at the bar counter. Just a kind reminder that you were only his to claim and he was solely yours to keep.

You would have gone through it all over again.

I don't care. I'm not scared.

© cultlix, 2024. all rights reserved.

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 8

tw: explicit content, yandere. 3k words. Geto/Reader. omega!reader, alpha!geto. yandere!geto, captivity, 0 fucking boundaries oh my god, EXTREMELY controlling behavior, public sex but is it public if they're just monkeys? geto says no

Prompt: Omegas kept in chastity cages so their pleasure belongs only to others.

So now you’re locked in a chastity cage.

You know the purpose of it. You don’t bother listening to Geto’s prattling, what he says the purpose of it is.

If you have to sit through more of the cult leader theatrics he so easily falls into, you might actually start screaming at him.

He’s doing it to humiliate you, and it’s working. He wants you to know that not only can you not cum without permission – you have to ask to touch yourself in the first place.

You have to go to him and confess your desires, instead of rubbing one out in some secret moment you can steal away from his prying gaze.

It’s even more humiliating that you now need to ask him to unlock you every time you want to use the restroom.

Were he not aware that it would send you into complete hysterics, Geto would probably follow you into the bathroom and wipe you afterwards, too.

And it’s not even that he doesn’t want you to go into hysterics. Geto, you’ve started to learn, loves you like that, especially.

Terrified, panting and panicked, tears of fury and anguish blotting your vision. Leaking pheromones that beg for him to comfort you, reassure you. The scent of your desperation flitting through his senses.

You think he’s saving it, like a little treat for himself when he has a bad day.

Portioning off the pieces of your sanity into bite sized snacks for him to indulge in at his leisure.

This is the next bite, it seems.

It’s his eyes that give him away. Dark and violet, dilating as you unwillingly scent the air with your arousal. 

“I just want to make sure you’re coming to me when you need something,” He purrs with too much satisfaction to be innocent, “You’re my omega. It’s my duty as an alpha to take care of your needs… and you’re so quiet about these things sometimes. This will help you learn to rely on me.”

Geto says it, like he’ll unlock you if only you ask. Like you’re being stubborn, and an easy climax is only a request away.

And you’re sure it will be, the first time. Maybe even the second, and the third. Perhaps fourth, too, if he’s being generous.

But Geto is a greedy little thing to his core. Never matter what you concede to him in the moment, no matter how satisfied he is, he’ll always be back for more, eventually. More of your submission, more of your pleasure at his hands, more of you.

He’ll drink it all up and set his empty cup in front of you, waiting patiently for you to pour out every last drop of your soul for him to savor.

All your struggles are in vain, of course, as they always are with Geto. He always wins. It’s like a compulsion – he can’t resist the urge to smother you every time he sees you.

When you give in for the first time it doesn’t feel relieving. All the pent up lust and desire; Geto had stoked it gleefully, not with any touches, but just with his presence as an alpha.

The broad, well-muscled figure he takes absolutely no shame in baring to you in nothing but a towel, pheromones that ooze off of him because your presence arouses him, the subtle bulge expertly hidden by his robes, which he makes no secret of when he pulls you into his lap.

The scent of him in your shared bed that accompanies you to sleep. A startlingly chaste embrace, his handsome face nuzzling into your neck, breathing you in like your scent is his air.

You’d never wanted to touch yourself so bad until he’d so blatantly removed the option. Never been so desperately ashamed of it before now.

When you do give in, it’s with the knowledge that you were always going to. And you’ll do it again, no matter how much you hate it.

But Geto doesn’t even let you hate it. Doesn’t let you pretend he’s just doing it all for himself (he is, he is, he is). Always acts like he's doing you a favor, like all you have to do is ask. All your struggles are by your own design, to hear him tell it.

It feels like the beginning of a long battle you never wanted to fight in the first place. You want out of the battlefield, out of the war. You’re trapped in the trenches with only Geto to guide you – and he only wants to pull you further in.

And he’s good at it. Too good at it. Asking you which way you think is out, letting you think it’s all your idea, ever-smiling and confident in the knowledge that all your turns will lead to him eventually.

The first time you give in, he’s almost giddy with self-righteousness. You almost expect him to push you down or bend you over, but instead he smiles kindly as he unlocks the belt and pulls the cage off you. Carefully catching it in his hands when it falls free, because god forbid you go without it for too long.

“Would you like to do it yourself?” He purrs, with barely contained excitement, “Or would you like me to help?”

You’d like him to leave the room so you could take care of it yourself. But you already know what he’ll say to that. He barely lets you use the restroom alone.

“I can do it myself,” You mutter, sitting on the edge of the bed while he nods indulgently. His smile is awful and wide. You have to look away from it.

His pheromones pick up, too, predictably, at the sight of you sitting, legs spread, cunt wide open.

Geto had graciously allowed you to choose whether or not to wear underwear over the cage, and you hadn’t seen much point in an extra step every time you begged him for a bathroom break.

You don’t meet his eyes. You stare at the floor as you spread yourself with your fingers, tracing and teasing at your entrance while you rub over your clit.

It’s laughable, how easy you are, now. How much you shiver at the lightest touch. The understimulation has you twitching, flinching away from the contact, dipping your fingers into your slick before you go back to rubbing over the hood of your clit. Rocking your hips to get the gentler, indirect stimulation just right –

“There, there,” The sound comes from across the room, “That’s just it. Would you like me to hold your legs for you?”

Almost on cue, as if your body is conspiring against you, your legs jerk as if trying to shut against the sudden, blinding contact.

(More likely, he’d simply noticed your urges before you had. You’re not sure which is worse.)  

You bite your lip, “It’s just – it’s just been a while, I’m fine.”  The last words come out petulant, demanding, but Geto lets you have it.

A few minutes in, still experimentally rubbing over your clit, alongside it, plunging your fingers in (shorter, smaller, not like his large hands), you are fighting the part of yourself that wants Geto to really let you have it.

This is harder, much harder than you’d thought it would be, especially because of the audience. Being watched is the opposite of arousing for you, even though your stupid omega biology is trilling at the presence of an alpha.

You must smell delicious right about now. He’s probably salivating at the thought of your taste. Ready and willing to run that hot tongue all over your cunt, gliding perfectly right where you need it, soft and slick and squishy and just enough to get you there, it always was.

Oh, he knows, too. You can feel him, even without looking, shifting his weight with an eagerness, crossing and uncrossing his arms with restless arousal. He’d been aroused before, you could smell that, but now you can smell him getting hard.

It wouldn’t be strange. You’re masturbating in front of him. This would actually be one of the most normal things he’d done –

Except you know it’s not your failed attempts at fingering yourself that’s doing it for him.

It’s that you’re failing.

It’s that you need – that you could use his help, that you know he is there, that he can smell you getting more and more frustrated as you shiver and scoot and impatiently rub yourself into painful overstimulation.

Geto knows he could do better. He knows you’re choosing to stumble helplessly over your own pleasure rather than ask him to help you. Like you’re bad at this, rather than your movements being awkward and rushed because you have an unwanted audience.

When you finally manage – after far too long – to wrench yourself to the edge in scathing, dogged strokes, the climax is almost as painful as it is pleasurable. Your clit burns and buzzes as the orgasm washes over you, and your real relief is that it’s finally over.

Surprisingly, this does very little to amend your sexual frustration as a whole.

Every time, Geto does this. He watches. He won’t leave you alone. Inching closer and closer while he watches.

Sometimes he touches himself in tandem. Gives you low growls and purrs of approval when you find a spot and rhythm that works for you, a shameful trickle of heat dripping through you at the noise. Lifting you ever closer –

But he doesn’t actually “help”. Doesn’t touch you. And that’s starting to get to you, too, you can tell.

The scent of him, the one that he makes when his eyes are wide and dilated at the scent, when the throbbing between your legs becomes so uncomfortable, the heat under your skin so insistent that it’s worth it to you to ask him again, just to get rid of the infuriating urge.

Whenever he pulls off the cage you can feel your cunt pulsing already, slicking up for the inevitable in anticipation.

He has you trained like a dog, and you’re sure he knows it, too. You’re sure it turns him on.

Your heat is coming up and you know it’s just a matter of time. You won’t be able to do it alone, you won’t even be able to want to do it alone.

You’ll want him, Geto, your alpha by your side, you’ll cry and whine and beg for him and he knows it, too. You’ll feel like you’re dying whenever he’s not touching you.

Like a fever, it builds deep inside you. It has you squirming from side to side, fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing your legs to relieve some of the building ache between your legs. The cage prevents all but the most basic stimulation, pressure getting through, but little else.

And it’s worse than nothing getting through. Because if you cross your legs just tight enough, there’s a pleasant little squeeze.

If you sit back on your heel the right way it presses down, but it’s not enough.

It could never be enough; that was the point.

All it was ever going to do was get you more worked up.

An arm around your waist, pulling you against Geto’s side, shushing and holding you still like a wriggling kitten.

That’s how he always makes you feel; it’s effortless for him to take hold of you, move you, throw or pin you with just one arm. There’s no concern on his part over how much you struggle; rather, how to still that struggling without hurting you too much.

And it plays to your instincts, too. There’s a terrible, primal allure to an alpha who is strong enough to subdue you with brutal efficiency, but chooses to do so delicately, with your comfort in mind if not your consent.

He makes rules for you and he keeps to them, a reliable mate that sings to your desire to be kept, held, protected.

Your alpha will take care of you, whether you want it or not. He’ll know what you need, when you need it, and he’ll make sure you get it always. Nothing can go wrong because he won’t let it.

He’ll never get angry with you, never get tired or bored. The alpha of every omega’s dreams; calm and powerful and always acting in your best interests.

And even when you hold yourself back, even when you resist, you can’t control what happens after. How he coos over you, tells you what a good job you’ve done.

Petting your hair, holding your exhausted body close while he lines the cage up with your poor, swollen cunt and locks you back in.

Why are you struggling? Why do you make yourself suffer?

You know you're truly gone when you start asking yourself the same questions he does.

Giving in to him is as easy as breathing.

Your heat is coming on anyways. You’ll surrender so much more when all you can think about is getting his knot in your cunt and keeping in there.

What’s a little piece now? What’s an appetizer, a tiny bite stinging at your pride, when soon you’ll be begging and mewling for him shamelessly, desperately?

It feels so easy, so right, to just nod quietly, red-faced, and let his smile grow even wider as he descends upon you like a starving wolf upon a lamb.

And it’s relieving. Letting him do it, take control.

Geto is so good at it, fingers quick on your cunt, your clit, his clever tongue and wide lips mouthing over you with the certainty he has in every word he speaks.

Even as raw as it is, your cunt slicks up under his touch, the oversensitive buzz deepening to an electric tingle that has you shaking down to your bones.

You gasp and weep and one of his huge hands finds your hair while the other slips into your cunt. It’s been ages since you’ve been fucked but you open up so easy for him, his scent permeating the air,  

And once he’s made you cum once, wringing it out of you after “All that time you spent getting yourself worked up, wasn’t is so much easier to let me do it?”, Geto doesn’t stop there.

No. He has to be intimate, has to be affectionate. He settles you against him in a facsimile of love, while your body is still lax and pliable, while the airy pleasure is still bubbling through your veins.

When you’re like that, happy and fuzzy and limp in his arms, he purrs his smug questions in your ear:

“Mmmh, so cute, do you want another one? Mouth or hands this time?”

“There, there. Doesn’t that feel good? Your alpha makes you feel so good, don’t you? Sweet little omega.”

“You know how much I love you, don’t you? You feel it right now. Say it for me.”

With his hands caressing you there isn’t even a thought of resistance, denial. You follow along with the sweet, low voice that always makes you feel good.

“I know you love me, Geto.”

“Suguru." He corrects, "Suguru loves you, your alpha. And how do you know I love you, my darling?”

“Hhhh…” You drift off, his long fingers driving into the knots of your shoulders, working you even looser, “Because… you make me feel so good… Suguru…”

“Mmmm…” The purr he makes of satisfaction radiates through you, and it’s all just warm, fuzzy bliss to your helpless omega brain, “Don’t I always? I take such good care of you, don’t I, darling?”

“Yes,” You agree, tilting your head back for him to kiss, nip at it, “You always take care of me. My alpha, the best alpha…”

“Oh? What a good, sweet little thing you are. You want to cum again before I put it back on? Since you’ve been such a good omega.”

And you like to think that it’s just the happy hormones of your climax, just the irrepressible pheromones that hook into your dopamine receptors and tug your brain inside out for him to pick apart.

But the truth is, Geto knows you. He’s always known you, so, so well. And even if you think this is surrender, you know he can do so much worse.

It’s worse, now, with him growing bolder. Sitting you on his lap to listen to hapless followers prostrating and sniveling before Geto.

He smiles, nods, an expression of vacant amusement drifting over his face.

The picture of casual control, an easy kind of power that doesn’t need to be projected. If Geto merely gazes in a certain direction, all attention in the room will soon follow.

His entire body, his pheromones, the arm he warps around you to hold you into his lap, it all screams alpha.

And you feel it, you feel it, it’s coming on and you can’t help it. You know he must have smelled it on you, Geto knew your heat was coming, so –

Burning burning, the heat sears you from underneath your skin. It’s like your whole cunt is throbbing where it’s confined, aching and empty.

So it was all right, then, he must have been expecting –

“G-Geto,” His name comes out as a soft, warbling sound.

The arm around your waist gives a tight pinch and a click of his tongue.

A whimper. “Suguru…” Pitiful, pouty, that’s what you’ve been reduced to. You’re almost as pathetic as the people bowing before him. He respects you just as much, you’re sure.

“What is it, my dear?” He hums, but he knows, he already knows. His hand is reaching under, around your waistband, toying with the belt.

Geto knows what you want. But it pleases him, always, to make you ask.

You feel eyes on you, so many of them. Silence in the air as everyone listens. To Geto, the room may as well be empty, which is why he didn’t care if you were in heat when you brought him here.

It’s wet, now, dripping out between the very edge of the chastity cage, leaking on the inside of your thighs.

You think he can smell it. You think you know exactly the face he’s making, the terrible smirk. But more than that, you smell it, him growing hard against you, his pleasure and excitement tinging the air.

Any other moment, you’d love to deny him. Yank this out from under his nose. But his hands against you sear, they’re so wide and grasping and you want want want –

“Suguru, I’m,” you pant, open-mouthed, to feverish to even be ashamed of how you rub yourself against him, “I’m, I need you to, let, hhhh, let me, out… let me out, Suguru…”

“Mmmn?” It’s his dark eyes on you now, a weight that finally makes a difference. “Do you need help?”

There’s hunger in those eyes. Teeth in that smile. Eager for this latest, delectable bite.

And the worst part? You don’t even care.

You just want to cum.

“Please.”

[astralnymphh]

what if u get a scratch and vampire ellie smells u from a mile away and she’s so desperate to have your blood that she lures you into her house and begs you for just a little taste. she whines and apologizes over and over again for being so needy while drinking your blood.

no smut. but suggestive! doc version included

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ oohhhh.. literally loser!vampire!ellie. the layout would be reader who's ultimate best friends with her; long time childhood friends potentially? and, let's also exercise the chance that ellie was fortunate enough to keep her vampirism veiled from your knowledge all this time. (if edward cullen could, she can too.) so, on one superficially mundane day near the woods where you happen to break skin by means i will leave up to individual imagination, ellie just so happens to be a mile away - returning home after a hunt proved to be in vain (girl had to feed bad but was way too delirious to concentrate.) - so, what transpires when she picks up the familiar scent of her beloved friends blood, an aroma commonly encountered, but always ignored despite her bloodstained appetite? yield.

"hey, my cars' just by the curb there. can give you a ride back to my place, patch that scratch up. 'ts not a big deal."

strange for her to utter that - it's not a big deal, when your puny little scratch is incapable of even irritating you that bad, but ellie insists, softly. what she omitted, is exactly what will happen between plopping on her bed and actually plastering a band-aid on that scratch. blood was drawn, crimson had dripped, and nothing goes off without a hitch when a voracious vamp meets the nectar of life, nothing. "you don't have to look— just, let me, please? again, i'm so sorry for asking." her voice withered and apologetic, a breathy and sedated mess with her fingers twiddling and twining with yours, sat adjacent to you just looking so so guilty for even bringing the topic up; vex with herself that she couldn't ignore it, like all the other past instances. "ellie, i— ugh, okay. if it's only a little.." and— that reply of sanction should excite her, god forbid she doesn't have the biggest crush on you, and now she's doing this thing viewed as intimate by some of her peers? but she can't help but feel.. sorrowfully faulted at first.

she drags her lips over the nub of your wrist before she separates them and bares her pretty teeth, poking your skin in little dints. vampiric foreplay. "you do this with every girl?" and you say it earnestly, yet with a light heart. no ill will bending in your tone nor intention. yet vulnerability casts a pall over ellie right now, taking blood from the one she can't keep her damn desires off, "i don't— i don't, no, fuck.. never, you're the only one so far." she mumbles, withdrawing her teeth a moment to spew that recital of apologies "so fuckin' sorry, please don't watch me. i just need.. just need—" she's literally so ashamed of her vehement needs for your taste, she can't even complete her sentences, unsheathing her teeth once more and burying them into the flesh by your wrist bone, grunting simultaneously with your pretty little wince.

although it is strange— on the edge of daunting, you managed to muster a fondness for it after a minute or so; the adrenaline rush at first bite, the excess of blood smearing her pale rose lips in a blotchy pattern, sometimes trickling the rise of her chin, those cursedly cute noises she makes during the feed, the fumble of her fingers trying to pull your arm deeper into her mouth like your wrist alone wasn't suitable of quenching, suspending her sucks with a spluttered or breathless, "damn it, sorry, just a little longer." whispered unto the delicate massacre painting your lower forearm— you love it. too much, you love her sudden jump in energy, pinning you on the mattress with her whole body and lodging her knee between your thighs, all while pleasuring you with pain, you fucking adore it. she has to know.

"take all you need, ellie. i don't mind, you can have me all you want, hmm?"

who knows where her mouth ended up next.

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . BIG TEXT VER

ignore why i wrote sm i did not plan to yap this much apologies if its rushed i am quite tired.

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Aphrodite Headcanons: And She Took That Personal! (Greek Mythology)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am finally back with a new God/Mythology Video! This one is of Base Yandere Aphrodite from Greek Mythology!!! Please enjoy this!]

(DISCLAIMER: This is Based on Aphrodite from Myth, she most likely is not Yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons with Aphrodite, From Greek Mythology-

.Aphrodite is the Goddess of Sexual beauty. 

.There is not a man she cannot get, there are also a lot of women she cannot get. 

.She can easily invoke lust and desire. 

.Then there is you, the second human to steal her heat. 

.You are different from the human man that she fell in love with all those years ago. 

.You are a stunning creature beyond words! She needs to have you as hers and hers alone. 

.She is beyond smitten with you and knows that you and she will have fruitful children, may you be a uterus owner she will get the best godly sperm for you. If you are in the possession of balls she will bear your seed. 

.Either way, you and her will have godly offspring. 

.She is also going to do what it takes to woo you. 

.Very romantic outings with you, where she makes her desires for you very VERY clear. 

.She of course knows you will want her, I mean come on she is the goddess of beauty, sexual love, pleasure, and fertility what more could you want? 

.She like many other gods, is obsessive and possessive. 

.She would not want to share you at all! 

. Especially with no mortal. 

.And with Aphrodite if you were with a mortal woman? She would take that as a personal insult. 

.She is the Goddess of love and beauty and pleasure. What could some mortal woman give you that she cannot? 

.She is also one of your more vain and jealous goddesses. This is one of the biggest reasons that the whole Trojan War was started. 

.So she would take you being with someone other than her, male or female, but especially female as the biggest insult. 

.But do not worry you are her sweet little pet, she would never take this anger out on you! 

.Your lover though? Well remember all the things the Greek gods have done to women and men but mainly women (Yeah she is going to make your lovers suffer beyond words) 

.Turning them into horrific things and maybe even getting animals involved. 

.She does not care she is not sharing with any rivals, she is your Goddess and you will be hers and ONLY HERS. 

.She is particularly aggressive, petty, and vengeful with her female rivals, making them suffer the biggest humiliation and pain! 

.She has to shatter them. 

.She would confess to you after probably killing her rivals taking you close and kissing you. 

.If you kiss back and accept her love well you will be made into some immortal and will stay by her side for the rest of time. 

.If you turn her down? She will have to kidnap you and punish you, you should not be better than to turn down a literal Goddess, especially when that Goddess has given you her heart! 

.Do not worry she will break that spirit of yours and teach you that she is all that you need and that you will be much happier with her. 

.Whether you wanted it or not! 

.She would also use sex as a way to tame you, manipulating her skills in the bedroom. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[satellite-evans]

Benedict Bridgerton with pregnant wife reader. With "Oh honey, come here!" and"One more kiss, please!". Fluff and maybe a little spicey👀 Thanks!! :))

One more kiss

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict can't keep his hands ( or his mouth ) to himself :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, teasing

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The air in the room seemed to hum, not with silence but with the fullness of life. You were a vessel of creation, the curve of your belly like the swelling of the moon—round, heavy, radiant in its own right. But like the moon pulling the tides, your body pulled at you, each movement a slow dance between discomfort and love.

Your hand rested instinctively over the swell of your abdomen, fingers tracing patterns over the stretched skin, a gentle reminder that life pulsed within you, even as you grew weary under its weight. You had crossed the line from glowing to aching, from grace to a slower, heavier presence. Every breath you took felt deeper, fuller, and yet… your patience was stretched as thin as the fabric that clung to your body.

Benedict had been watching you for some time now, his gaze heavy with the kind of awe that made you both feel powerful and vulnerable all at once. He stood by the door, taking in the sight of you—the woman he adored, carrying the child you had made together. And though you felt cumbersome, ungainly, he seemed to see only beauty, a force of nature incarnate.

The tension in his stare hadn’t gone unnoticed. It had been growing for weeks, ever since your belly had become unmistakable proof of his devotion to you, of his claim over you. He was never far from you now—his hands always reaching, always craving. It was as though the sight of you so full, so pregnant with his child, ignited something primal in him.

"Oh honey, come here," Benedict’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and filled with that familiar hunger. It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. His eyes were dark, focused, as if the weight of his desire was something he could barely contain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smile. You knew this game by now. Ever since you’d started showing, Benedict had been… insatiable. It was as though seeing you pregnant with his child sparked something primal in him. His touch had become needier, his kisses hungrier. And while you adored his attention—most of the time—there were moments, like now, when the exhaustion outweighed your desire to entertain him.

“Benedict,” you sighed, shifting slightly in your seat, trying in vain to ease the pressure in your lower back. “I can’t… I can’t move right now. This baby feels like a boulder.”

He didn’t miss a beat, crossing the room with swift determination. “Then I’ll come to you.” There was a soft chuckle beneath his words, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of feral as he knelt in front of you. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid up your thighs with an almost worshipful care, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your dress.

Your body responded in spite of itself, a shiver running down your spine. Despite your weariness, there was something about the way he looked at you—as though he was starved for you—that made it hard to stay indifferent.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His hands moved to cradle your belly, his fingers spreading wide across the expanse of your rounded abdomen. "You’re… God, you’re perfect."

“Perfect?” you huffed, shifting again in your seat. “I feel like a whale.”

Benedict's eyes flickered up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish grin. “A beautiful, glowing goddess, then. One that happens to be carrying my child." There was a possessiveness in his tone, but not in the way that felt suffocating. It was full of adoration, of reverence. He was proud of you—proud of what your body was doing, what the two of you had created together.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your belly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of your dress. It sent a ripple of warmth through you, despite your fatigue. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his touch reverent and loving, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Benedict,” you warned, but there was no real bite to it. You were tired, yes, but the way he touched you, the way he looked at you—it stirred something deep inside, something that made it hard to resist him entirely.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, filled with a need that made your skin prickle. He pressed another kiss to your belly, then moved upward, trailing his lips along your skin, over the curve of your breast, up to your neck. “One more kiss. Please.”

You let out a soft groan, both from the ache in your back and the ache building between your legs. “Benedict, I’m exhausted.”

He smiled against your skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I know, darling. I know. But I can’t help it. I need you.” His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you down toward him, his eyes pleading, full of unspoken desire. “Please,” he murmured, his voice softer now, desperate. “Oh honey, come here.”

Despite yourself, despite the weariness in your bones, you leaned in, letting your lips meet his. The kiss was slow at first, but it deepened quickly, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His mouth moved against yours with the same hunger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

You moaned softly, feeling his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, caressing your skin with an urgency that made your heart race. His touch was firm, but careful, mindful of the life you carried, yet undeniably full of desire.

"Benedict," you murmured against his lips, half-heartedly trying to pull away. "I’m… tired."

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a breath, his fingers still gently stroking your belly. “I know. I’ll be gentle. Just... stay with me for a little longer.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes full of longing. “Please. I need to feel you, love. Just one more kiss.”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "You're insatiable, Benedict."

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to yours again, this time slower, softer, but no less passionate. “Only for you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Only ever for you.”

And as his hands continued to caress you, as his kisses deepened, you let yourself melt into him, letting the exhaustion fall away, if only for a little while. Because even though you were tired, there was something about the way he touched you—like you were the center of his world—that made you feel alive, loved, cherished. And in that moment, you gave yourself over to him, one more time.

“Fine,” you whispered against his lips. “But just… one more.”

[oepionie]

—"POETIC RIZZ" various

SYNOPSIS: Horrible 3AM post—Just a bunch of random quotes/lines from various shows & books that i mixed together (Also diasomnia has the best rizz ngl)

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT RIDDLE ONCE SAID

"In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. One word from you will silence me on this subject forever. And so I beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering and consent to be my lover."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT DEUCE ONCE SAID

“This feeling has possessed me, I think and...I wanted to tell you that wherever you may end up in this world, I will be searching for you. I'm not afraid of anything now. I finally understand. I'm in love. We're in love. That means we'll meet again. I'm sure of it. ”

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT LEONA ONCE SAID

"I had not intended to love but now, I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you. And I will love you until I die, and if there is life after that, I'll love you then. You're more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT RUGGIE ONCE SAID

“I love you but I know it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; I'm gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you; forever and everyday.—I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we are together is the greatest day of my life."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT AZUL ONCE SAID

"I desire more…than what's within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn't help it: the greed is in my nature. Please just bear with me. You pierce through my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT JADE ONCE SAID

"I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.I long for you; I who usually longs without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you. Moreover, you are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT FLOYD ONCE SAID

"I heard what you said. I’m not the sappy romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want seaglass or shiny pearls. I have all those things already. I want…you. A steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love you, and be loved by you."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT IDIA ONCE SAID

"My Persephone, I would have chosen you a thousand times over, the Fates be damned. Even if they unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you. All my heart is yours: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT VIL ONCE SAID

"Darling you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own. Now, tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you, anyway. Yes, you make mistakes, are out of control and at times hard to handle. But if I can't handle you at your worst, then I surely don't deserve you at your best."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT ROOK ONCE SAID

"In beauty of face and soul, no maiden ever equaled you. If I were to be blinded the moment I laid eyes upon your incandescent form, I would not grieve, for in that very instance I have truly gazed upon everlasting beauty."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT LILIA ONCE SAID

"Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad. But I beg of you do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. Oh, God..It is unutterable. I can not live without you in my life. I can not live without my soul. It is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT MALLEUS ONCE SAID

“I have little left in myself—I must have you. The world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT SEBEK ONCE SAID

"I am a gentleman. I have been raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence. You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT SILVER ONCE SAID

"I have a strange feeling with regard to you. On some days—I have dreamed and wished I was one of your tears. To be born in your eyes, roll down your cheeks, and to die on your lips."

[queers-gambit]

The Business That Pays You

prompt: ( requested ) not all disabilities are visible. being accosted for something out of your control angers the watchdog - your boyfriend, Carmy. additional request: protective Carmy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x disabled!female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 4.5k+

note: it's not the best, it's short, doesn't really focus on Carm being protective but it'll do for now.

warnings: incredibly niche, depiction of invisible disabilities from author's personal experience, need and use of medical equipment, author doesn't pay for therapy and projects hard in this, cursing, Lord's name in vain, strangers picking fights.

Your mother raised you to be poised, collected, personable. Your mother indeed raised a lady; someone was independent, who valued morals and education, who showed equal respect to both custodian and CEO. Your mother instilled a set of beliefs that you refused to dismantle; becoming someone who knew right from wrong, to be helpful, kind, compassionate, empathetic.

Your mother, however, did not raise you to be a bitch. She did not raise you to take other people's shit, she did not raise you to take life for granted; to walk away from confrontation as much as she taught you to stand up for yourself.

People saw you and made snap judgements; thinking they could manipulate and control you, offer harassment and instill a sense of fear in you. Your mother raised you to only fear the wrath of God, not the opinions of privileged, foul-mouthed nobodies who couldn't understand a Goddamn thing you endure. She did not feed you from silver spoons; you had no preconceived notions about life's realities, but instead of becoming pessimistic, you were extraordinarily optimistic because the world had enough negativity in it.

However, despite the strength your mother built in you, that did not mean you were indestructible or any less human than anyone else. You weren't some robot who could turn emotions off and operate mechanically, you had a heart despite how your mother tried to program it to keep you safe from emotional turmoil.

The world could tear anyone down, she didn't want you defenseless against forces that would take advantage of you; she understood there was often no say in how life played out, so, if she could, she wanted to prepare you for what you could control.

All that to say, your mama didn't raise no bitch - but that didn't mean your feelings couldn't be hurt. While graceful, you had both bark and bite; traits that came in handy when defending yourself against wrongful opinions that drained your energy. Since starting high school at 14, you were always the oddball out - the need for a medical aids making it that much harder to fit in amongst able-bodied peers. Since that age, you were accustomed to every Tom, Dick, and Harry voicing their opinion about you; constantly wondering what was "wrong" when you seemed perfectly capable to their naked eye.

They had no business being in your business. No right to know what medical complications you endure, nor the diagnosis bestowed or any explanation for why you needed medical equipment. Didn't stop anyone from voicing their questions, though, feeling some kind of sick entitlement to answers only you could provide.

You were human, why wasn't that enough? You were a person with real feelings, someone with a heart, someone who bled red and had a thick desire for friendship, love, and acceptance.

One look at you and people would think you're perfectly normal, until the days your chronic medical condition flared its ugly head and forced you to rely on mobility aids. You looked normal, but the truth was, you body was in a chronic state of malfunction and sometimes, you needed braces on your ankles, knees, wrists - shit, even your hips! They couldn't tell by looking at you, but the pain was insurmountable. They couldn't tell by looking at you, but you were at a constant disadvantage. They couldn't tell by looking at you, but life was a never-ending nightmare of confusion that made everyday a little extra complicated.

No, nobody could tell - until you were on the ground. Until you had a dislocated joint. Until you lost control of your body and were forced to operate with limited energy and capability.

As you got older, you learned new tips and tricks that could help navigate life a little easier. You made sure to prioritize your rest, drank two liters of water a day, tried to keep a balanced diet, always took your medicines, and exercised to the best of your limited ability. You did whatever was in your power to help yourself, but most people didn't see it this way.

A lot of people just saw you as an inconvenience, someone who complained a lot and held no stake in this life.

One of your newer accommodations was actually more of a necessity. A qualified rheumatologist recommended you get a cane to help keep your balance and prevent unfortunate injury - being a common occurrence for you. So, a cane was added to your inventory and holy shit, did you hate it. You were used to your disability being invisible, allowing you to just skate by under most radars, but with this mobility aid, you couldn't deflect anymore. You were victim to gossip, a spectacle for people to stare at, a curiosity people questioned without real regard to your emotions.

They figured since you were sick and had been for so long, you were at peace with what was "wrong" and wouldn't be triggered by their jarring questions. You hated it, being asked what was "wrong" with you, why you needed a cane when you appeared fit, how you split your lip or sprained your ankle, why you didn't play anymore sports and spent your free time at a hospital - not considering it wasn't a choice you made willingly.

They considered you selfish for prioritizing yourself; telling you that the world was cruel and unfair, that you weren't special, that you didn't deserve "special treatment" because your disability wasn't directly in their face.

They questioned why you wore braces one day and not the next. They wondered how you got sick to begin with. They wanted to know how bad it truly could've been if you still appeared well-enough.

Many thought you were lying about your disability, not understanding what a "flare up" meant; where your body had lulled into a state of homeostasis before being rattled into painful action. They didn't consider that your "normal" was probably on par with their "worst days". Their questions irritated you, yes, but their assumptions just straight up pissed you off - thinking their hour of Googling was enough to compete with years of attending specialty appointments with qualified physicians.

As a direct result, you developed the philosophy that you can't know something if you don't ask questions. However, now you just hated having the responsibility of teaching them thrust upon you when already being the patient - thinking it shouldn't be your role to play.

You already didn't ask for this illness, you certainly didn't ask to be the one that had to make people understand that you were still viable and worthy - like every other human being. You didn't think educating the ignorant should be your duty, but yet again, who better could understand and put everything in words? Who else could convey your situation, explain how you felt, narrate what you endured?

So, for years, you developed a sort of passive attitude, figuring if someone was curious enough to ask questions, the least you could do was answer truthfully to avoid speculations and assumptions. Perhaps it would make the next chronically ill / disabled person's life a little easier by lifting the burden of education from their shoulders. There was no use in feeling bitter anymore, this was your reality and there was no escape; so, your attitude softened and you became a little more open and forthcoming in your tribulations.

Something Carmy admired since the first day he met you.

It was natural for you to feel skeptical when a desirable, able-bodied, very attractive and talented chef took a sudden interest in you; fearing he had some weird kink or wanted to get his jollies by dating "the sick girl". He proved you wrong around every corner, and after keeping him at bay for several months, came around to the idea of going on a real date. This time, when he asked questions to better understand you, your answers were honest, raw, open, and detailed - wanting him to get the full picture to avoid surprise later down the line. It was the least you could do: giving him a look into what dating you would look like, providing every opening to let him run away.

If anything, it made Carmy cling to you tighter.

He impressed you by how easily he accepted your truth. Next thing you knew, the label "sick" or "disabled" was all but vanished from your mind; Carmy making you feel simply human and as if your state was more than enough for him. He treated you with compassion, and if you had a flare-up in front of him, he remained calm and level headed in order to best care for you. Didn't mean he wasn't afraid or startled, but he was at least capable to help in the moment and ensure your safety. That was something Carmy made you feel: safe.

Safe, understood, like you were enough. As if your condition didn't deplete you, but added to who you are.

Carmen Berzatto - or Carmy - was truly one of a kind. A man of rare stock and breed, someone you confided in and trusted; someone who never needed you to be anything more than what you already are. Yes, you were disabled, but Carmy made you feel alive, passionate, and excited to tackle each and every single day; a sensation you have not known since childhood. Since before your illness took over your life.

However, there were some days that even Carmy couldn't save you from. After being assigned your cane, you were recommended to a physical therapist, who taught you the proper ways to best utilize your new mobility aid. Never have you considered there to be logistics behind such a device, but after a brief tutorial, you could feel the difference in use and developed a sense of gratefulness for the helpful tips.

"One last thing," the PT informed you before you could leave, "I'm not saying you will, but a lot of our patients who have invisible disabilities have reported they've encountered individuals who harass them for using their aids in public."

You didn't put stock into his words, just nodding and using your cane to hobble to your car and get back home.

You honestly didn't even think about the warning for weeks... Until one day, you were boarding the bus with your cane and boyfriend with the intent of heading to The Beef to pick out appliances for the renovations. Carmy normally would've drove, but his car was at the mechanics - leaving you both dependent on public transportation like your days in college.

You panted lightly as you climbed the stairs, feeling more tired than a normal day, but still smiling and nodding at the bus driver, swiped your pass, and limped down the short aisle to an open handicap seat Carmy pointed out to you. With a breath of relief, you relaxed slightly to try and relieve tension in your muscles, boyfriend standing beside you to let your head rest on his belly; the bus making several stops before your destination.

When approaching The Beef, you pulled the wire, heard the bus chime in acknowledgment of your stop, and stood from your seat with Carmy's helpful hand in yours; stomping your cane to catch your weight when it lurched while trying to adjust to your new position.

"All right, baby?" Carm checked, eyes wider than normal; able to recognize a flare-up was working into your system as your weakness grew more apparent.

"Yeah," you mumbled, ignoring the sweat dotting your upper lip as your adrenaline was engaged in order to keep you upright.

"Wow," a snotty voice leered slowly, seeing an older, dark-haired woman eyeing you with a curled lip, "bad enough you stole a handicap seat, but you're really using a cane, too?" She scoffed, "Way to lay it on thick. You look absolutely fine, you don't even need that - "

"Excuse me? Do I know you? Did I ask your opinion?" You snapped, the bus going quiet as patrons eavesdropped on the confrontation. Carmy readjusted beside you, his anger and confusion flaring.

"Well, look at you," she gestured, "perfectly healthy but trying to lie about the state of your health? That's so pathetic! You don't even need that cane! Way to steal it out from under someone who does need it, no wonder Medicaid's all backed up. It's 'cause of people like you thinking it's cute and will get them attention or special treatment that the truly disabled can't get their necessary supplies."

You barked a laugh, cutting off Carmy's ready response. He glanced at you in confusion, only seeing entertainment marring yor features. So, you sneered, "Wow, didn't realize I was talking to Superman."

"What does that even mean?" She sneered.

"Oh, sorry, just thought that since you had X-ray vision and all, you must've been him. You know, since you have such an extensive opinion on my disability and all."

"Wow," her eyes rolled as Carmy snickered, "Millennials are truly the worst - "

"I'm Gen Z, bitch," you cut her off, "and just because I don't look like it in your untrained opinion, doesn't mean my disability is any less valid. You know, not all of them are visible - some of us suffer on the inside and hide the outside really well."

"Something you might wanna learn to do - got a whole lot of ugly you might wanna cover up," Carmy scoffed, shaking his head. "C'mon, baby, don't gotta stand here and listen to this kinda bullshit."

"I just think it's shitty of you to steal equipment out from under those who genuinely need it!" The woman continued, making you pause in slight interest. "You're young, your sprained ankle doesn't warrant a cane - you're just using it for the attention, probably want people to feel bad for you. What? Your little boyfriend doesn't dote on you enough?"

"Listen, lady," Carmy snapped, "we've been decently nice, but you're asking for us to get mean. Why don't you fuck off - you don't have the faintest idea what's wrong with her, I don't think you get to say what's necessary and what's not. You're not her doctor, you have no idea what the issue is, so, please, kindly refrain from imposing your bitterness onto other people. Mind the business that pays you, lady, and maybe you won't be so brash and cranky."

"Jesus, she sounds like my little brother when he needs a nap," you tacked on. "Talk about needing attention - throwing a public tantrum is definitely the way to do that."

"I'm just saying!" She defended, noting how the bus of patrons were glaring at her and shaking their heads, "You look perfectly healthy, there can't seriously be something wrong. You would look way worse if there was something real - "

"Jesus, fuck, use your X-ray vision, Superman, then maybe you'd see how brazenly wrong you are," Carmy snapped, your eyes rolling bitterly. You hobbling towards the door, Carmy's warmth at your flank assuring you he was following.

You offered stiffly, "And for whatever it's worth, I had a trained medical professional prescribe this cane as a mobility aid - I don't need some Karen on the bus offering unsolicited opinions."

"I am not a Karen!" She gasped shrilly, looking mortally offended. "You little brat!"

"Not doin' a damn thing to beat those Karen allegations, I see," Carmy chuckled, slinking an arm around your waist; feeling incredibly protective against these judgements. "You might wanna start minding the business that pays you - which certain, isn't us."

"Hope you have as shitty a day as your attitude," you wished her with a smile when the bus pulled up to the curb, easing yourself down the stairs and onto the sidewalk with Carmy's large hands splayed to ensure you didn't trip or fall.

"Jesus Christ," He cursed, glaring at the bus as it pulled away, "you deal with that kinda shit often?"

"More than I should," you shook your head. "Just - let it go, Carm, it doesn't mean shit. The opinions of one dumbass isn't seriously going to make me embarrassed to use my cane."

"Can't believe the nerve of some people," he shook his head, walking on the side of the street to keep you tucked into his side. "I'm sorry you gotta hear that bullshit, baby, Jesus. Only heard it once and I'm fuckin' pissed."

You weren't sure what you felt, but definitely prickly, irritated, annoyed, and very frustrated. Knowing Carmy was just as wound up helped you feel less alone, and the fact that he tried to protect you from the onslaught of rudeness made you a little fuzzy. Perhaps this world wasn't totally doomed...

However, it seemed that wouldn't be your only encounter with a loud-mouth Karen that day. After helping Carmy with certain designs and decisions at The Beef, he informed you that a health inspector was coming to run point and after, you could go home together and soak the irritated joints that were swelling to twice the size they should be. Richie promised to your two a ride home, revoking the need to utilize public transportation. You didn't mind the bus, but it was a helluva lot easier to get in or out of a car, plus it reduces exposure to nosy strangers, their stares, and any comments people might feel the need to voice.

You stationed yourself in the office with Sugar, helping her with anything she asked, and when you limped onto the main floor, you saw an unknown man and woman in pressed suits talking to Carmy and Richie.

You leaned on a counter and listened, cane stationed in front of you, sighing internally when the man eyed you with mild trepidation. You were so close to snapping, but didn't get the chance because he was asking decently kindly (as if you two were friends), "You okay, Miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yeah," you nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help the inspection run smoother?"

"Do you work here?"

"My boyfriend owns and operates the place, I'm just here to help if it's needed."

"Right..." His head shook, shrugging, "Well, uh, no, ma'am, we're just about to finish. Say, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the cane? I mean, you look pretty young, why do you need it? I mean, is it even necessary?"

Carmy was at your side without you even noticing him approaching, arm sliding around your neck to dangle casually as his brows furrowed with mistrust. He asked stiffly, "What's it matter to you?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't, but I was just curious. You mostly see the elderly with canes, a little weird to see someone so vibrant using one, too. I mean," he eyed you up and down, "you look perfectly healthy in my opinion."

"I don't remember her asking for your opinion," Carmy snapped, arm tightening in irritation to keep you close to his side.

With a sigh, you pet his waist and revealed (a brief and condensed version of) your medical diagnosis, explaining what it meant and what symptoms you were forced to endure all day, everyday. "That good enough for you, sir?" You asked sharply. "Didn't realize medical doctors now did health inspections - bit of a step down, isn't it?"

"I'm not a doctor, I'm just pointing out, you don't look sick to me. I'm wondering why you would use a cane if there's nothing wrong? Look, I know about your illness - I have a niece who has the same condition and she's perfectly fine, doesn't need a cane - "

Carmy snapped, "The fuck are you trying to get at?"

"Carm - "

"No, no, fuck that," he deflected your words, "the fuck is this guy on? Where do you get the audacity to have an opinion on a stranger's health?"

"It's just weird and I'm familiar with the illness," he scoffed, your throat swelling with frustration and strangling any response you might've defended yourself with. Something in your chest warmed with anger, raising your heart rate and blood pressure.

It was as if Carmy could sense this, snapping at the man, "It's not just an 'illness', it's an actual disability, asshole."

"It's literally just an inconvenience, there's not something seriously medically wrong - you'd look a lot worse if there was. I mean, there are other people out there with your condition that don't need a cane or braces, and there's also people who need a cane more than you - "

"Disabilities can be invisible, you fuckin' dumbass," Carmy bristled loudly, making Cousin and the female inspector look over. "You got some nerve, don't you? Trying to have impose an unsolicited opinion on something that has literally nothing to do with you?"

"It was just an observation, sir - "

"That you didn't need to voice. You're being fucking offensive and insensitive, she answered your little questions - which is more than I would've done - so you can fuck off now. Nobody owes you - or anyone else - an explanation about their Goddamn health. It's personal and you're just an asshole for asking a stranger about it. Especially one that was just fuckin' standing here, minding her business - you literally came to her, outta your way, and started attacking her."

"I'm not attacking anyone - "

"We good over here, Cousin?" Richie asked with a growl, stalking over with a glare marring his features; female inspector silently following in obvious discomfort.

"Yeah, Cousin, just this dumb fuckin' asshole harassing Y/N about her cane," Carmy answered, neck and cheeks reddening from his anger. Richie and Carmy narrowed their eyes almost in sync, making the inspector hold his hands up in defense.

"The fuck he say?" Richie snapped.

"That she looks too healthy, how his niece doesn't need a cane and is, also, sick, oh, and that she doesn't need her cane - "

"Why? 'Cause you can't see whatever's physically wrong? So you think she doesn't need extra assistance 'cause you can't outright point at her disability?" Richie barked with anger, a vein bulging and pulsing. "Didn't know we had a doctor in the house, excuse the fuck outta us!"

"I'm not a doctor - "

"Oh, so, just a Karen who offers their opinion nobody asks for?" You finally chimed in after calming your emotions. "Or does that make you a Kevin?"

"No, I think Karen's accurate," Richie nodded at you, hands moving to his hips. "Always sayin' the wrong shit, imposin' themselves, right?"

"Accurate," Carmy snapped, dropping his arm to hold your waist.

"Look, I don't know why you're all getting so defensive! I'm the one with the experience, my niece is sick, too, I'm just trying to understand how you think you're different enough to need a cane," The inspector snapped, "I'm just saying, there's nothing actually wrong with her, my niece has explained the symptoms to me, so why use a cane? For attention?"

"Oh, this fuckin' guy!"

"The fuck did you just say!?"

"Dale," his coworker tried to intervene but was ignored.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!" Richie barked loudly. "Is he fuckin' serious? He bein' serious!?"

"'For attention'?" Carmy repeated over Richie, narrowing his eyes and bunching his brows, "Wow, that's fucking golden! Dude has one family member, had one conversation with her as a patient, and thinks everyone with that condition has the same disadvantages! The same fuckin' symptoms - you fuckin' poser!"

"Fuckin' bitch-ass-loser," Richie still ranted.

"Dumb fuckin' idiot. Who needs the attention now?" Carmy sneered.

"She's too young to need a cane and she doesn't even look - "

"Dale!"

"I think you might wanna fuck off outta here - right fuckin' now," Carmy seethed, "and be prepared when you see your boss next, we're gonna report your dumbass to your superiors. You're being condescending and rude, meddling in someone's health - which isn't remotely any of your business. She was nice enough to answer your stupid fuckin' questions, she even explained what was wrong, but you're still gonna shame her? 'Cause you think she looks fine and healthy?"

"Yeah, time for you to get the fuck out! The more I hear, the more pissed off I feel - get out, goodbye, fuck off, before I make this into a physical altercation," Richie growled, moving forward to coral the inspectors towards the door. He was yelling profanities, the male inspector trying to defend himself and his opinions; still trying to say you must've been faking the need for a cane since there was no way someone who looked like you could need it. The woman was apologizing profusely, but was drowned out over the Chi-Town accents yelling at one another.

When Richie slammed and locked the door, still mumbling to himself in anger, Carmy turned towards you and asked, "You okay, baby? Shit, I'm sorry about that - "

"Don't, hey, it's okay," You soothed.

"It's really not - I mean, Jesus Christ," he seethed, "what the fuck even was that? Twice in one day? Gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

"I can't say I'm surprised," you shrugged. "I was warned people get lippy when they see people like me, who don't outright look disabled but still need to use their aids."

"Fuckin' bullshit, that's what it is!" Richie raged in a rant. "How the fuck do you put up with that shit? I'd be swinging that cane around like a fuckin' nunchuck - Jesus - fuck these dickheads! Knock their dumb fuckin' opinionated asses out!"

You paused, slowly perking your brows as Carmy chuckled, "Ah, fuck, you just gave her an idea, Richie, Goddamnit. Am I gonna get a call from the cops to come bail you out after you go on a rampage with your cane as your weapon of choice?" He asked you.

"You might..."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, dollface," Richie smirked. "But seriously, babe, what the hell? Does that happen often?"

You sighed, admitting, "More than you'd think, more than I'd like to deal with. People don't believe what they can't see, so they can only go based on what they think they know."

"They don't gotta open their fuckin' mouths, though," Carmy shook his head, skin still cherried from his anger. "It's fuckin' rude - "

"People love having their opinions, baby, that won't change," you sighed, squeezing his waist. "But thank you, both of you, for coming to my rescue."

"You don't need rescuing," Richie sighed, hands back to his hips.

"Yeah, we know you had it covered, just fuckin' angered me hearin' that shit," Carmy scoffed. "You shouldn't be the only one defending your health."

"You want me to hit him with my car? Give him a reason to need a cane, too?" Richie offered, the two inspectors seen outside the window at their truck; exchanging heated words, arguing.

You paused to consider his offer with a hum, Carmy barking, "Hey, hey, no, no, no, bad idea, no hitting people with cars!"

"You're missing the point - it's giving that Karen a reason to use a cane, too, and for us to mock him that he doesn't look like he needs it."

"No."

"Bitch-ass."

When Carmy left you two alone to deal with something in the kitchen, Richie smirked and whispered to you, "I'm gonna hit him with my car."

"You're a good friend," you chuckled, his grin genuine as he offered his arm; letting you take it and limp back into the kitchen.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[bloodfestgf]

I think it’s really a somewhat unfortunate thing for people to be so weird and racist about louis exploring his sexuality and kink as a black gay man in paris (and jacob talks sooo extensively about james baldwin’s influence on his character this season) after escaping his abusive white father-maker-lover (one of the first things he tells people in paris is that he’s still trying to discover himself). why wouldn’t he want to step out of the role of the subservient suffering wife that lestat forced him to play and enjoy pushing against the constraints forced on him by the maker-fledging + white master-black lover dynamics without those specific power dynamics overshadowing his romantic relationships. there’s a lot of conversation about armand’s trauma informing his sexual preferences but you have to understand that this happened with louis too to a certain degree even if I personally feel it just comes down to his personal preference at the end of the day. the show is explicit about one thing - armand did feel safe sharing his history and ceding control to louis under consensual circumstances which are probably not things he’s ever done even when he had sexual relationships with other members of the parisian coven. a relationship with louis gave him the freedom he needed to extricate himself from the confining circumstances of coven life and the job he didn’t particularly enjoy.

the relationship having undercurrents of complex issues that inform their dynamic and lay bare their vulnerabilities and flaws isn’t something to comment upon uniquely just because they have an established dom/sub dynamic. there are a lot of angles informing the dynamic they settle into besides just their trauma because the show is specifically trying to make a lot of other commentary. armand seeking a master and lover and god in louis in vain because of his history with marius (and probably informed by the part he played in claudia’s death) is just as significant as him constantly micromanaging louis who’s treated like the metaphorical mad woman in the attic with mental illnesses who’s confined for her own safety. louis’ own worship of lestat’s masculinity, his desire to ascend the capitalist hierarchy, and his familial roles often acting as an extension of the patriarchal ones you see him engage in with his mother and sister and claudia are just as useful tools to examine the subtext in their relationship besides just. trauma lol.

at the end of the day it’s literally fine for louis to enjoy being a dom in their relationship. I think I hate the concept of louis being a suffering dom enduring the dynamic for armand even more because it seeks to apply moral judgement to anybody who takes on a more dominant role during, what is after all, just sex. a lot of people didn’t really absorb louis really enjoying cultivating a dom/sub relationship with 70s daniel, I guess.

[cyberrose2001]

Kinktober: Day 7

Prompt: Medical Play

TFP Ratchet x GN afab reader

Warnings: consensual Doctor/Patient role play, very inappropriate use of medical devices, slight bdsm, lots of body fluids, masturbation, temperature play

Word count: 1058

(this is your warning, this gets very kinky. click away if you’re not comfortable!)

“I'll take it that the patient is comfortable?”

Comfortable is a strong word for Ratchet to use, in your opinion. Being strapped down with your wrists bound with leather on an ice-cold gurney isn’t what most people consider relaxing. The only mildly comfortable thing about your position is the soft padding under your thighs, elevating your legs, but at the cost of exposing your entire pelvic region to the mech.

You weren’t comfortable. No. You were turned the fuck on.

Nodding helplessly, you grind your hips on nothing in anticipation of what your lover had planned. Though, you weren’t totally in the dark. Ratchet had explained his darkest desires beforehand after your curiosity got the better of you. His detailed explanation of the obscure, downright dirty, and, god forbid, unethical things he wanted to experiment on you unexpectedly set your groin on fire at the mental image.

“Very well then,” Ratchets’ servo grazes over his tidy set-up of intimidating medical equipment before selecting the humble stethoscope, turning to you as he secures it to his helm, “We will proceed with a thorough check-up then, hm?”

All you can do is nod once again; the O-shaped gag fitted snuggly in your mouth hinders your ability to give your doctor a verbal answer. He hums, approaching the head of the gurney. He leans over and places the cold end of the stethoscope above your heart, causing a soft gasp to leave your throat.

Ratchet listens for a bit, humming in thought, “Your heart rate is elevated. I can only deduce that you’re excited, or for a better term, aroused.”

You let out another whine as he moved the stethoscope down your stomach, stopping at each quadrant to listen. The icy cold instrument makes your hair stand on end, and Ratchet can't help but let his other servo drag across your tummy to feel for himself, “Abdominal sounds are excellent, no abnormalities from what I can tell.”

Ratchet agonisingly drags the end of the stethoscope down past your belly button, “Though I do have one concern,” He drags it even further down before pressing it straight onto your pulsing clit, “And it’s how fraggin’ wet you are.”

Never once had you thought that having someone take a stethoscope to your clit just to hear it throbbing would be hot, but watching Ratchet listen, and watching his spike pressurise right in front of you, was enough to draw a loud restrained moan from you. And when you think it couldn’t get more erotic, Ratchet starts to circle and put pressure on your aching bud with it.

“Nnghn… fck…” You whine, grinding your hips upwards to gain more friction, but it’s in vain as Ratchet pulls away, groaning as he watches your slick leave a silvery thread in its trail.

“My, my…” Ratchet breathes out, observing the end piece with equal professionalism and restrained lust, “I was going to utilise some medical grade lubricant on you,” He flicks his optics back to your dripping cunt, “But by the looks of things, we won’t be needing it.”

You keenly watch as Ratchet reaches for another tool, a speculum. You’re not entirely sure yet how Ratchet got his mitts on one, but you’re more curious about how he will use it. But you have a fair idea when he starts to press it against the entrance of your weeping hole.

“Relax, Y/n,” He reassures, patting your inner thigh as he sees you tense up at the coldness of the speculum, pushing it past your folds, “You don’t want me to sedate you, hm? Or would you like that too?”

You shake your head before inhaling deeply through your nose as he pushes it the rest of the way in, shivering at the icy coldness against your fluttery walls, “Nmh… mhmm…”

“Ohh, very good, I knew you could do it,” Ratchet hitches his breath, lowering one servo to his heavy throbbing spike to lazily stroke at it while he starts to actually fuck you with the speculum, “Such a good patient for me…”

“Ngghn! Hoh phcuk…” The gag does nothing to stop your moans or your saliva from spilling from your mouth. You grind your hips as much as you can, eager to impale yourself further and further onto the girthy device.

“Y’know, I really shouldn’t indulge myself while assessing patients,” A low grown escapes him, optics trained on how the speculum disappears into your tight heat as he fists himself in tandem, “But Primus, you make it so… hhnnn… so fragging difficult…”

Your thighs are shaking from the strain of their position, hips arching as you desperately moan and cry out for your impending orgasm. You throw your head back as your doctor fucks you faster and deeper, stretching your walls in a way that makes you see stars.

“F-Frag…” Ratchet stutters, positioning his weeping spike before the speculum, “Time for… ngggh… your injection…”

You have no time to question him before your core tightens and your orgasm hits you like a train, crying out in euphoria as you clamp down on the speculum, your entire body shaking and trembling against the restraints. But what you never expected was for Ratchet to grip the handle to open it so he could press as much of his spike as he could into the opening of the speculum.

“O-Oh frag…” Ratchet lets out a half whine, half sexy as fuck growl as he strangles his spike and shoots his trans fluid down the opening, onto your pulsing wet walls and directly onto your fucking cervix.

A strangled moan leaves your throat as he fills you up completely, allowing some trans fluid to drip out of your wide-stretched cunt, watching with pure erotic fascination as he milks the rest of his hot fluid into you.

Ratchet exhales deeply, letting go of his spike, allowing the last remnants of his overload to throb against his thigh. His optics flicker down to your gaping hole, still clamped open by the speculum, and he hums in satisfaction, bending down to get a closer look, and you can’t help but whine at the sudden feeling of being observed so profoundly.

“The procedure is successful,” He huffs before dragging the speculum out, letting the rest of his transfluids dump out onto the gurney, chuckling at your shivers, “Shall we arrange a follow-up appointment?”

[charmedreincarnation]

My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

[allfattenedup]

Hello and what great progress, exceptional!!!

I see myself in you even if I'm just starting out... cause I was also a thin athlete, even too thin at certain times, I can ask you what pushed you to start and after the first phases what did you did it push you to move forward and never go back?

Thankyou!

Thank you so much!

I've told this story a few times but not for a while. So I have always had this kink. But I was also pretty vain, lol. I don't mind admitting that. I wanted to look hot, it was important to me. So, I won't say I buried the kink - I definitely jerked off to pretty much only fat guys and girls, and even fantasized heaps about myself getting fat, but I was just really strict in my mind that it was a fantasy only and that I'd never actually do it to myself.

Eventually, it became overwhelming. In hindsight I realise it was a self sustaining cycle — I was working out more and taking better care of my looks to try to drown out the desire, but the more I did that, the more delicious the thought of ruining it all became in my mind. The pull became way too strong. It was all I was thinking about all the time.

So, I did eventually make a deal with myself that I would gain 20lbs, just to get it out of my system, and then lose it before anyone really noticed.

That was the best/worst/best/worst decision I ever made.

Because oh my god, if I thought fantasizing about myself with a belly was hard to resist, actually having one? Actually watching and feeling one grow and wobble and push over my waistband? A potent lifelong sexual fantasy coming to life like that? Fuck me, I didn't stand a chance.

It got out of control real fucking fast. I swelled like crazy. Got the heavy hanging stomach of my dreams and nightmares. Got a pair of moobs, got a double chin and a fat face. I quickly realised I also had an embarrassment kink and with that, the guardrails just came off. The safety net burned up. The thought of having to face people in this body was as delicious as it was horrifying so there was no way I could stop myself from making it worse and worse and worse. I've done a few different drugs in my life and I have NEVER been as out of my mind as I was during that period of time. Absolutely off my face on lust.

Although it's not quite true that I never went back. I exploded with fat so fast that it seriously freaked me out. And even though I was literally getting off on the panic of how obese I was, eventually it became too much and I did actually lose a lot of weight. Not down to my original weight but enough that people were congratulating me everywhere I went for how "good I was looking". It felt nice, honestly. I missed the erotic tornado of weight gain, but it was kind of nice to feel normal again, to feel a little bit confident in my looks again, and I promised I'd leave this whole surreal experience behind me. But then eventually... it was all I was thinking about all the time. It became overwhelming. The pull became too strong.

I should have known what would happen. I came back to tumblr. Explained myself, showed my weight loss. People were really kind and supportive. I admitted that I just wanted to be part of the community again but I'm not gonna be gaining any weight back. And then that became 'I'm only gonna gain a tiny bit of weight back'. And then for probably about a year I was "not gaining" while slowly getting fatter and fatter. I started a Patreon and the thought of being fattened for a living started to ping that overwhelming desire again. My body started to take on a different shape than it did in my first gain. So all of a sudden that made everything new and hot again. I was in denial for wayyyy longer than was reasonable. I somehow managed convinced myself I wasn't really gaining on purpose, meanwhile I was ordering a second pint of Ben & Jerry's while still shoving down the first. I'm sure half of you guys knew I was intentionally gaining again before I did. And that's where we are now. I gained slower this time. My body is handling it better. Seems to me the only way from here is up 😈📈🥵

[in4vitable]

[18+] AHWHH, here is a sneak peak of a lengthy fanfic i am writing!! it is a male reader! x keith kogane fic, cus i don’t see many :< but you can read it as lance if you squint but if you do, please don’t comment anything related to them.. this is a male READER fic 🤍

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

keith had him pinned to the wall, their breaths colliding with each other the closer they got. the tension was thick, and the thrill of getting caught rushed through keith’s vains. he knew this was wrong.. so so wrong.. but having his knight pinned like this in front of him was so tempting. he couldn’t help himself. Y/N reached up gently to cup keith’s cheek, his thumb trailing his jaw.

“keith..” his voice was soft and breathy, desire laced each word, “n-not here..” he almost whimpered. keith felt his knees grow weak at this. he pressed forward, his chest hitting Y/N’s as he dropped his head onto his shoulder. keith inhaled sharply, taking in the familiar and comforting scent of his knight.

“god you’ll be the death of me.” keith said, biting back a groan as he took another sharp breath, “fuck..”

Y/N nuzzled his nose into keith’s hair, he could feel keith’s growing erection pressing against his leg. he wrapped his arms around keith’s neck and hugged him, kissing the side of his neck, causing keith to let out the groan he was holding in.

keith moved his hands to grip at Y/N’s hips tightly, pressing them against the wall, his own hips following. he mouthed at Y/N’s shoulder, moving to his collarbone and letting out another gentle groan, “please..” keith almost whined, “i can’t..”

Y/N furrowed his brows at the slight shift in keith’s tone, “what’s the matter?” he asked, moving his hand to thread through keith’s hair. Y/N isn’t stupid, he knows what’s wrong, he can feel it pressing against him, but there’s just something about the way keith was so desperately mouthing at his collarbone that made him want to tease him..

keith whined, “don’t make me say it..” he said, his hands moving to grasp at the back of Y/N’s shirt, pressing against him more and starting to slowly grind against his leg.

Y/N pouted, “sweetie..” the nickname caused keith’s knees to buckle ever so slightly, “we’re in the middle of the hallway—“

“i don’t care—!” keith said, slamming one hand against the wall, pushing Y/N further against the wall, squishing them so close together, “i don’t.. care..” he said softer this time, pulling back to look at Y/N in the eyes, “please..”

Y/N smiled slightly and pressed his forehead to keith’s, “okay..” he mumbled, nudging his nose to keith’s. he knew if he teased anymore, keith would get upset, so he let his hand trail down keith’s chest, making him shiver. Y/N’s hand moved to gently cup keith’s growing bulge through his pants and keith hissed, his eyes fluttering and his face flushing.

they kept eye contact as Y/N began to palm at keith’s clothed crotch. keith let out airy, light moans, his eyes constantly flickering between Y/N’s.

Y/N had his normal, soft expression on his face, pressing his palm a little harder, causing keith to jolt and moan a little louder. keith moved his hand down, wrapping his fingers around Y/N’s wrist as he began to hump himself, desperately, against Y/N’s hand, not caring how embarrassing it might’ve been.. all he could think about was Y/N.. his smell.. his touch.. his body.. he so badly wanted to be inside him..

Y/N moved his hand to grasp at the hair at the nape of keith’s neck, tugging it causing him to pull back and stare at Y/N, his hips slowly down.

“let me take care of you..”

keith whined and his body slumped forward, his forehead connecting back with Y/N’s. he let go of Y/N’s wrist and moved his hands, placing one of the wall and the other gripped at Y/N’s side.

Y/N’s fingers hooked under keith’s belt, tugging it gently and keith whined again, his breathing ragged as he looked down at Y/N’s hands as they slowly unzipped his pants, then reaching into his boxers, fishing his pulsing hard cock out.

keith moaned at the contact and his hips bucked forward, earning a small, “shh..” from Y/N, who gently caressed keith’s cheek with his free hand, “shh.. i’ve got you..” he whispered, starting to slowly move his hand up and down keith’s shaft.

keith’s body shivered and his eyes fluttered closed as his mouth parted. soft, melodic moans fell from his lips. Y/N watched in awe at the way keith’s face, normally so stern and dominant, shifted so quickly and so softly.. he felt his own body heating up at the sight.

Y/N twisted his hand, jerking it even faster and keith let out a louder moan, moving his head and burying it into Y/N’s neck, muffling his moaning and whimpering. keith’s hips started to instinctively thrust into Y/N’s hand, losing himself to the pleasure.

to be continued.. <3