#but i have now gone everywhere *I* know of

[pomegranate-theater]

helloo i wonder if you have no problem with the idea of reader passing out during an intercourse?🥹🥹🥹 if that so, could you please write yandere phainon with reader who always reject his affection—even the smallest affection—despite already living together for almost a year or even more? then one day he just snapped and tying reader's hands to the bedpost, then mercilessly—but also gently—having his way with her until she overwhelmed and can't think of anything else other than "maybe his love is the only thing that i need" then eventually passed out? and phainon, being the sweet 'lover' he is, giving the best aftercare for her even when she's still lying unconscious. oh! it'd be great if you could put nipple play here and there. OMG i'm so sorry i talk too much, i hope you don't mind😭😭😭

BITTERSWEET / YANDERE PHAINON

cw: female reader / non-con / bondage / overstimulation / rough sex / nipple and breast play / phainon is kinda delusional / passing out during sex / aftercare / kinda angsty. not suitable for minors or anyone uncomfortable with the mentioned warnings. word count: 2.1k

Note: I tried my best to fit the description into the fic, and I hope everything still blends together well! Let me know.

Could a man being so cruel with you still try to exude sweetness? Because the ropes he chose to tie you with were silky ribbons, with him not daring to chafe your skin or even strain your wrists — should they tug against the headboard. The carefulness of the gesture didn’t mean he gave you any freedom in your movements, however — the binds were still meticulously twisted, not able to be broken unless you possessed a Herculean strength.

“How did this come to be,” Phainon said with bitterness, too shaken up by his frustrations and despair to be stopped in his actions of fucking into you to have a chance to realize the repercussions of doing this to you. “Almost a year of living together, almost a year of me pouring out my heart for you…” his hands gripped harshly on your hips, making you cry out from a small ache, and all you could have done is wrap your legs around his hips tighter if the upper limbs were restrained above your head.

“… and yet, you continue to break my heart repeatedly. I’m starting to think I’m not the selfish person here,” he hissed, and you felt your mind slipping away somewhere, far away, to escape the fire coursing through your nerves.

When Phainon first cornered you after you had yelled at him today, once again, for not respecting your space with what you deemed as clinginess, despite it being scary if out of the range of his typical behavior, you still asininely assumed he’s just agitated and affronted by your additional rejection. Unfortunately for it it turn to be punitive, when soon after he was pouncing on you this way — tying you up, eating you out until your clit was too numb to feel any pleasure, and now — fucking you like an animal, while shifting the blame at you.

You couldn’t be at fault here, in any way, if you’ve never asked him to become your lover nor did you ever have to accept anyone’s affection — no matter how unconditional, well-thought or sacrificial they could be. But put a man to be so desperately in love with you, reaching levels of unhealthily obsessive, and he’ll start to feel entitled to you involuntarily to him.

As he fucked you, and fucked you, and fucked you, not giving you any moment to be spared of him stretching your pussy and digging deep inside with his cock. Your indignant protests have gone quiet at this point, replaced with pleads for mercy as your sensitive body was being lit up when he was forcing you with an intention of making you cum again — this time on his dick, towering over you pliant body with him on his knees between your thighs to be thrusting hard into you.

“P-Phainon, I can’t—” you were sobbing at this point, not even capable of focusing on any specific part of your body, if every was tormented in some ways — so you felt overwhelmed everywhere’s. His cock was hitting your insides with too much depth and scraping them with fast frictions, his hands moved from hips to your breasts to be fondling them; and your clit was sore from both previous actions and now his hips constantly running the ache with thrusts.

“Well, maybe not everything happens to be about you for once—” he spit with venom, and his fingers skillfully massaged your buds between his fingers. Your body lunched upward, the stimulus shattering your last remains of sanity. Could a person die from being overstimulated so much? He’s tortured you with foreplay, if you could call it that, now his cock was his next lesson for you.

When your body went slack, mind fuzzy and difficult to follow up with anything, only then Phainon softened — pitying was visceral to him. “Must you really be so cruel and treat me like I’m a dictator with your rebellion, if I’m only trying to show you my love?” he asked with longing, and slowed down for you sake. In this state, your mind was more susceptible to anything he could throw at you.

“P-phainon… I’m sorry,” you choked out, your sobs having died down but the feeling of being minced in every inch of your body remained.

You either knew how to play him well, what vulnerabilities of Phainon to tug at; or you were genuinely sorry — he couldn’t tell, but didn’t he wish to hear more of your kindness.

“Do you mean it?” he asked with a hope for your benevolence, and grabbed your legs to throw them over his shoulder, before he leaned down to be on top of you — face to face. You were drenched in your sweat, your eyes barely held up with his, and your breath was disturbed.

Somehow, it only made you more beautiful to him; regardless of him being the meanest he has ever been. He was making you his, if you didn’t want to be his. Maybe he’s been too lenient. Maybe he’s given you too much benefit of the doubt, thinking you just need to adjust to him — it’s been more than eleven months now, and he’s been kind, wasn’t he?

Begrudgingly, you agreed. You were losing your mind in this situation too, especially you — at this point, the singular aspect that could prevent your life becoming from more of a ruin was giving in to him. There was no way Phainon would ever let you go, not if he’s not dead, so you could either continue struggling or… try to make the best of this situation to live a better life. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. I know you care…”

It was as if your words whipped him, making him still, as his blue eyes looked at you with disbelief. An acknowledgment, no matter how minuscule compared to the amorphous affection and devotion levels he has expressed when being with you, was a blessing and felt like a greatest of gifts. Perhaps, he’s made a good choice coming at you this way, and should have nipped that in the bud much sooner — in his opinion.

A man now vivacious kissed you with joy and excitement, and withdrew few seconds later when hearing your whimper. “Sorry, I must have exhausted you. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle now.”

Hearing him signal he’s not done yet, just more careful, made you want to protest again. Yet, you didn’t, scared of bursting his bubble or bringing his wrath back. “Okay…”

“That’s right,” he said with pride, and still slow in his thrusts, his lips kissed all over your collarbones, gently, to not further fray your nerves. Phainon knew — at least has learned it today — that you were holding particularly erogenous areas in your breasts. That’s why his lips nipped at the soft flesh.

With your hands still tied, you couldn’t grab at his hair to have something to hold onto; you only grazed your skin with the sting and writhing of the material as you tried to tug your hands away from the headboard. “No… not here!” you begged, trashing under him.

“Shh. I’m being gentle, as per my promise. You can take it, if my only wish is to make you feel good.” You couldn’t explain it to him that feeling good wasn’t the problem here; sadly, once this man sets his mind on this idea, he couldn’t stop.

“And it does feel good, doesn’t it?” he inquired. It did pleasure your body, unfortunately not fully exploitable to you if you felt out of control and way too intense… though, with him looking at you with hope, you muttered “yes”. The sooner you let him finish, the sooner he’ll snap out of his trance — and maybe you’ll manage to let yourself fall too.

You wanted to take it back when his lips wrapped on the right nipple and sucked, nerves in your plush flesh feeling prickled with needles.

“Oh, gods, Phainon, it’s too much!” you cried out, tears spilling on your face again. The drain concerned him for a moment, and he looked up at you, wiping tears for you.

He knew he should be stopping at this point. But there was something in him, not even fueled by sadism, that wanted to see how far he could push you — for his own satisfaction and comfort, so he can be assured in his belief you’re his. Maybe it was control-driven, but having control over you meant he had you.

“Then let it go. Let it all go, and everything will be alright,” he smiled, way too innocently for your distress, and lunged at the other nipple with a doubled fervor. His hips were now awful to you again, chasing the intense unravel from you. He wanted to see you get lost entirely, so he could impose your mind with him only.

His hands under your bent knees, he split you on his cock fast and deep, hitting a spot below your cervix that made you feel lightheaded. His lips were vicious too, swelling the nipples. You couldn’t speak anymore, only make almost screeching noises, among skin clapping and wet stirring sounds reverberating from the walls of a bedroom that should have been a safe haven.

His mouth finally left your nipples and he moved himself closer to you between your legs, his arms sliding upwards — his hands were now holding the sides of your head, his face so close your noses were almost touching, and your legs rested bent over his forearms.

“My love- please, tell me you love me,” he pleaded, his voice cracking, as he sped up his thrusts in chase of anything from you.

To his shock, you reciprocated the words, albeit meekly, “I love you.” Phainon couldn’t be sure if it was you meaning them, or if you simply were repeating anything when your brain was dead and soaking anything like a sponge — but he closed his eyes and pretended it was an honest confession.

“Thank you, thank you…” he moaned when you tightened around, so nearing your orgasm, and hid his face in your neck. “Thank you so much. I love you so much, I could just die—”

You meanwhile, couldn’t even hear his manic ramble, busy with your body getting so light you thought you could fly away. The overwhelming pleasure and approaching demise in form of the orgasm was rushing your blood to be hot and fast through your veins. You weighed nothing, when the final peak of the day was by overly stimulated furnace of your body, and the climax would be your last straw.

The pressure in your abdomen snapped, making you twitch around his cock violently, and you couldn’t even scream when finally lost consciousness, not able to handle the blood pressure change.

He didn’t notice yet, rapt by the ecstatic state of having both of your pussy and your “devotion”; not until he was done filling you up with cum — even with your body limp, he was clueless.

“You are unreal,” he sighed contentedly, trying to bury down the arising guilt coming with the pleasure being lifted off. When not hearing your response, he suddenly snapped his head up, and gasped when seeing your unconscious form. Phainon gently shook your shoulder and when you didn’t wake up, palpated for your pulse — thankfully, you were alive, just shaken up by the intense experience.

A dutiful lover he was, he gently pulled out, witnessing his seed drip out onto the bedsheets under you. You could be waking up any moment, and him not wanting you to panic by discomfort, he was quick to clean you up and dress you up — no matter if sad by the loss of skin to skin contact, all gentle and delicate for you and your sensitive body.

He was conflicted and flickering between two emotions — guilt and satisfaction. Guilty from pushing you so far, and jubilant from your submission and admission (whether honest or not, time will verify).

When you began to awake, slowly coming to the realization of what has happened as you regained your bearings, you didn’t find it in yourself to struggle. Too exhausted physically and wiped out emotionally, you let him hold you.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. I was extremely worried about you, my muse,” he was now in a cosseting mood, speaking to you as if you were a sick baby of his. That’s why while running his hand over your back, safely nested in his arms, he spoke sweetly; as if it wasn’t all his fault, just duty doing to finally make you see his efforts and love, “Are you in any pain?”

“I’m sore…” you replied with no enthusiasm; to which he didn’t deflate, assuming you’re as tired as you say. “Hm, I’m sorry for that, but I’m sore with our intimacy, we finally have made amends.”

“Amends”, he says. You didn’t want to make any; however, what other choice did you have at this point? You had to survive somehow.

“… Yeah,” when you confirmed and even cuddled up closer to him, he smiled beaming with happiness, and was quick to be on his feet. “Stay here.” Not that you could walk anywhere. “I’ll bring you some water and food, and then I’ll massage your legs-”

When Phainon disappeared out of the room, you closed your eyes with resignation — you even missed the warmth of his body and hoped for its quick return.

[22ayla21]

This topic is a bit dark and quite sad, so I can understand if you don't want to accept this request.

But I like how you usually cover a little bit of everything in the scene of your posts (apart from some reactions that are really endearing on the part of the boys of the hsr of those you currently write, and that make you feel happy about how good companions they are):

The scene was how they would react/encourage their wife in case she had had an abortion/loss of the baby (It would be the first pregnancy she had, before the little ones they currently have)

The Weight of Loss

Nothing can compare to how a mother loses her child.

An unnatural silence hung over the palace. Even the guards, usually clattering their boots through the corridors, stepped softer, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. Servants whispered among themselves, and courtiers tried to stay out of sight altogether.

Mydei sat by her bedside, holding her cold hand in his. The room was dim, thick curtains blocking out the light, but even the sun couldn't dispel the chill.

She lay motionless, eyes closed, but he knew she wasn't asleep.

She hadn't uttered a word since it happened.

Mydei looked at her pale, waxen face and felt something inside him tear apart.

He always knew the world was cruel. He had seen cities fall, people die, betrayal corrode souls. But never before had he felt so powerless.

Her shoulders trembled, but there were no tears. Only this frightening, icy silence, devouring her from within.

He didn't know what to say. What words could comfort in the face of such loss?

He simply slowly raised her hand and gently pressed his lips to her fingers.

He wanted to say that the pain would pass, that time would heal the wounds, that they would still have a future. But that would be a lie.

Some wounds don't heal. They become part of a person, changing them forever.

So he remained silent.

Just sat beside her, warming her hand with his own, running his fingers over her skin, letting her know she wasn't alone.

Someday she would smile again. Someday this pain would subside.

But until then, he would be there. Always.

The house was deafeningly silent.

Anaxagoras sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed. His hands were clasped, and a dull, aching pain pulsed in his chest. He had never been good at comforting, and now... Now he simply didn't know what to say.

His wife lay facing the wall, her shoulders barely moving. She wasn't crying aloud, but he knew the tears were there, deep inside, burning her from within.

The child was gone.

He would never hear his voice, never feel his tiny hand in his own. He would never know what color his eyes would have been—hers or his?

But she... She had lost more. Hope. A future she had already begun to build in her heart.

Slowly, carefully, he lay down beside her, not touching her, just feeling the warmth of her body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a long pause. He wanted to shout. How could she think she was to blame?

"No," his voice was hoarse but firm. "No, don't you dare apologize."

She didn't answer, just curled up tighter, as if trying to dissolve into the air.

Then he carefully reached out and hugged her, pulling her close. She tensed, but then the trembling of her body intensified, and finally, she broke down in tears. Her fingers dug into his shirt, and his arm tightened around her shoulders.

"I'm here with you," he whispered. "Always with you."

This wasn't the end. It was pain, but not the end.

Silence.

It was everywhere. It filled the space, stretched like a sticky shroud, as if muffling even the quietest sounds. He sat beside her, holding her cold fingers in his hands, but she didn't respond to his touch. Her gaze was empty, staring into nothingness, as if she was trying to find an answer in the air to why it had happened this way.

He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to break the silence without causing her more pain. Any words seemed inappropriate, false. "Everything will be fine"—a lie. "We'll get through this"—too simple.

And yet, he had to say something.

He gently ran his hand over her back, feeling the tension in every muscle. She sat motionless, but he felt the storm raging inside her.

"I'm here," he breathed. Just that. No extra words.

She flinched. Slowly turned to him, and he saw her eyes—red, dull, full of emptiness. Then her lips trembled, and she whispered, barely audible:

"I failed you."

He had never felt such pain from someone else's words. As if something fragile and precious had shattered in his chest.

"No," he said sharply, louder than he intended. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "No. Never. You didn't fail me."

She didn't answer, just lowered her gaze, then buried her forehead in his chest. And only then did he feel her shoulders shake.

He didn't know how to heal this pain. No one did. But he knew he wouldn't leave her alone.

When the tears finally broke through, he didn't pull away. Didn't say everything would be fine. He just held her, stroked her hair, letting her cry.

This pain wouldn't go away immediately. But he would stay by her side. Always.

[currrsy]

Mark's phone notes after his death

2:30 am I don’t remember at all what the hell happened and how I ended up here. It feels like I was beaten up and thrown into a trash can, although this place looks more like a house where an old woman died. it smells of dampness and mold everywhere, there’s trash all around and some kind of scraps… I don’t even want to know what they are. I’ve been wandering around this place looking for an exit for several hours. all the doors are locked, and my phone is still out of service. did someone drug me and lock me up here? I need to find a way out… 2:30 am my phone has completely glitched, and the time on it has stopped. it’s possible that about 4-6 hours have passed; I’m not sure… fuck! I have a terrible headache, and I still haven’t been able to find the damn exit! I tried to open the windows, but they won’t budge either, just like the doors. I suspected this house was huge, but to be this big…

- this is not funny at all!!! I’m just walking in circles, returning to familiar hallways and rooms. I tried yelling for help, banging on the windows and doors - it’s useless! I’m sure I’ve been here for over a day, but for some reason, I don’t feel like eating or sleeping at all. I really don’t like this place, it feels… unnatural. I’ve started noticing blood on the walls and doors, and there are masses of something disgusting just lying around and moving… It’s very creepy here. my head still hurts. - FUCK FUCK F FCK! WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?!! some ugly creature tried to grab me crawling right out of a crack in the floor!! luckily I managed to escape but I stumbled upon something else… I just walked down a VERY long staircase that ended up spiraling. THIS IS CRAZY. Is this house SO huge that it contains so many long, deformed rooms, staircases, and hallways? but that can’t be possible, I must be losing my mind. can a house really "change"? the headache is gone but now I keep hearing some noise. I need to keep going. - I found a mirror and saw myself… there’s a huge cut on my neck. HOW THE HELL IS THIS POSSIBLE??? how did I not notice this before.. how am I even breathing and alive and how do I still have strength no no no no no no no no. my body is shaking, I’m cold. my mind is confused and I want to get out of here.

- david would help me. he always helped me. It’s sad that he’s not here.

- a strange guy came to me. he promised that everything would be over soon. I just need to wait. It’s very cold here. - wait - wait - wait

the sun goes down

I feel the light betray me

[bluepurplepinklock]

Isagi Yoichi x reader, where you think you are not good enough for him due to hate comments and he proves you wrong.

You stare at the screen which is getting blurrier by the second. Tears spill out of your eyes as you break into a quiet sob over the tweets.

"How could the Isagi settle for an ordinary girl like her?"

"Bet she's with him only for the money and fame."

"Really, he could do so much better."

You throw the phone beside you on the bed, wiping away your tears and taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. It's okay. They are just haters. It doesn't matter what they say. You are worth so much more and these people's opinions don't matter. Right.

Right?

Everyday, you couldn't help but question yourself- is what they say truly right? You find yourself thinking this over and over, until one day your boyfriend Isagi finally decides to speak up.

"Something is wrong, isn't it?" He inquires softly.

Your face bolts up, the popsicle you were half heartedly licking off melting under the scorching sun. Despite sitting on a bench under a huge tree in the park, the heat is unbearable.

"What... What do you mean?" You mumble, looking everywhere but into those deep blue eyes you adore so much.

"Something is bothering you," Isagi throws away the bare stick of his finished popsicle, and focuses on you again, "I know it, now spill."

"Nothing is wrong," you cough, avoiding his gaze which is currently piercing through you.

"Yeah?" Isagi scoffs, "then why are you being so distant for the past week or so?"

"I..." You gulp, watching your icecream melt away and drip on the grass below, "it's nothing-"

"Look at me," Isagi commands, his voice demanding yet soft, strict yet loving. And you do.

But once you do, your mouth betrays you for the lovely man before you as you finally mumble,

"I saw some comments," you blink, trying to force the tears back, "they said I wasn't... I didn't deserve being with you. That you can... Can do better than settle for someone like-"

"Is that so?" he cuts you off, his voice dropping low and serious, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that bores deep into your soul, "and since when did I give you the impression that I give a shit about what haters think?"

"It's not that," you look away, staring at your toes, "I mean, they are not really wrong..."

"So this is how we're doing it, y/n?" Isagi cups your face and forces you to look at him, "I don't remember you giving me the impression that you care what others think either."

"I..." you gulp, not sure what you can retort with.

"We both know I love you," Isagi smiles, all the intensity and silent rage gone as his usual, loving and caring soft voice assures you, "what does it matter what haters say? I don't care because I know you are the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I know the person my y/n is, they don't. That's it. Got that?"

You can't help but smile back and nod, tears spilling free out of your eyes as Isagi wipes them away, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

"I bet those idiots hate on you because they are just jealous." he chuckles and you could feel your heart flutter at the sight.

"And also," he leans in and steals a quick kiss from your lips, "you kinda wasted your whole icecream."

You pivot to look at the popsicle that was now a liquid in the grass. "Aw man," you angrily throw the stick away, "what a waste!"

"Don't worry," Isagi laughed out loud, burying you in his arms, "I'd buy you another one."

"You better do." You find yourself laughing back, snuggling into his chest.

©bluepurplepinklock (Do not copy, steal or translate my work)

[mollywog]

Hi!

I can't stop thinking about this scenario i'm your complicated universe:

Burdock is now showing off his granddaughter.

Thank you for letting me know: I’m so tickled!! It inspired me to write a small addition.

For context, Complicated is an in-Panem AU where Mr. Everdeen lives and this would have happened anyway happens much sooner.

Shout out to all who suggested names for the Toastbaby girl for this universe!

Haymitch first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, toting her everywhere. Katniss soon outgrew his arms, trailing behind him with her own scrawny squirrels on her belt, until she was striding beside him with just as much to show as her old man.

They’d never mended the old wound, he and Burdock, but he still paid particular attention to the Everdeens. That way, if Lenore Dove’s ghost ever came to him, he’d be able to tell her of her kin— at least that’s what he told himself.

And recently there’d been a new branch added to the family tree.

Haymitch had watched the girl— Katniss, over the last several months as her belly’d swelled near splitting, until he’d worked himself up worrying it’d be twins— but then he’d learned the father was one of Otho’s boys and her size had made sense.

He’s heard she delivered— a healthy little girl, but it’s just luck that he’s at the Hob today when Burdie arrives, his bundle in tow.

He doesn’t see her right away, just the unmistakable pride on his old friend’s face as he introduces her around.

Haymitch has no reason to linger, his business with Ripper complete, but he can’t resist the urge to get a peek of the girl and any information he can glean, so he sidles up to Sae’s stall and sits at the booth. He ignores the old woman’s raised brow, carelessly pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. Gone is the bribe and the questioning looks as the bowl of something he rather not contemplate slides across the counter. He hunches over the stew, running his spoon through the sludge, straining his ears to catch crumbs as Burdock moves closer.

Bits and pieces of conversations float over the chatter and Haymitch’s chest tightens at the sound of his friend's voice, so achingly familiar and comforting despite all the years, until the girl’s name shakes him out of his revelry.

Olive?

He scoffs, frowning at Sae’s knowing smirk.

Like the food? He supposes it’s an improvement from the tuberous roots for which mother and grandfather are named…

But no, it’s not just a food. He turns the name over again. It’s a color— green— a dark yellowish green like the moss that’s begun to grow over Lenore Dove’s grave stone, though he doubts that’s what the happy parents were imagining when they picked it. Still a nod to Burdie’s family perhaps? But color alone does not a Covey name make. He briefly wonders if there’s a ballad of Olive Mellark.

He really hopes not.

But there’s still something that nags at the back of his muddled mind. He closes his eyes to clear his head, but instead an image floods his memory: the floor of a Justice building on his tour long ago— a mosaic depicting a bird with a bough — no, that's not quite right— a dove with an olive branch.

He breaks into a sweat and his stomach rolls. Unbidden, his eyes seek out the source of his distress; the tiny girl, swaddled in a dove colored blanket, with a muted orange ribbon accenting the scalloped edge.

It’s as if someone has walked over his grave— no, not his— Lenore Dove’s— but aren't they the same thing? They’re a matched pair, mated for life, more married than any piece of paper could make them. And that girl is his kin too. Beloved and endangered if he cannot fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove.

“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . . on the reaping”

He stands abruptly, knocking the stool over in his wake. He gives the girl— no, Olive, one final look before retreating back to his house. He won’t waste another minute; There’s work to be done.

[vampirewrites]

Needing you.

Spencer Reid x GF Reader

Summary: Spencer's been gone too long to make it to bed.

Warnings: None really, fuff, 18+, smut duh,

I'm lying on the couch scrolling through TikTok, trying not to think of Spencer. He has been gone for almost a week now, he has only been able to call me twice so far. The last time I heard from him, he said it would be another week before he could get home to me. I could hear how tired he was over the phone. I've been doing everything I can to distract myself such as doom-scrolling on TikTok and binge-watching Doctor Who but right as I go to get more popcorn I hear keys in the door, he walks in and before he can look up Im running into his arms he chuckles softly letting his briefcase fall to the floor wrapping his arms around my waist ‘y/n’ he whispers “I've missed you” he pulls me in tighter, I nuzzle my head into his neck I've missed you soo much! I whine, he closes the door and locks it, his hands never leaving me. He pulls me into a passionate, heated kiss. I whine softly, “Did you miss me that much, baby?” he groans between kisses. I nod, blushing, “Good.” he picks me up, my legs going around his waist. My Arms are going around his neck. Moving us to the couch, he kisses my neck as he sits me on his lap. I moan out as he leaves sloppy kisses all over my neck! Hearing me moaning for him only makes him want to leave little marks all over you! he pulls me back as I whine, “You little tease!” he groans as I grind down, feeling his rigid member against me. Please I beg he moves his hands touching everywhere he can as we sit there making out and dry humping like teenagers. Breathing heavily, he mumbles praises as his hands rest on my hips, helping me grind down on him. It's been so long we can't wait any longer, he moves one of his hands off my hip down to let his manhood free. taking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits his red twitching cock my hand goes to wrap around it but he stops me “I can't baby it's been too long I won't last” he says a light blush on his chest and face. I smile, going to take off my baggy t-shirt, leaving me in nothing but my panties. fuck he groans out “your so beautiful baby” I bite my lip removing my panties slowly for him. “Baby, please, no more teasing.” It's not often he begs, so I give in, going back to sitting on his lap, slowly sinking into him Ooo-Ah_fuUck Spencer! I moan as I take him all that way, feeling so full “shit baby you're always so tight, my good girl” he groans smacking your ass and rubbing it “Ride me my sweet girl” I blush at the sweet nicknames. I slowly start to ride him, whining at how big he is, no matter how many times I take him, he always stretches me to the point it almost hurts. Ooo you're so big! he groans, his hands going to my hip, moving me, making me take him faster. “I know, baby, but you can take it right, you can be my good girl, right?” Yes! I whine I can take it! he loses all cotrol at my word “fuck” he flips us over so I'm now laying on my back fucking into me like an animal ooOoOo fuck YES!! I moan. “You're mine! MINE!! he groans loud pounding into me “god I missed you so much y/n” his hand moving down to rub my clit I feel myself clench around him oooh I missed you too!! “Fuck y/n Im going to cum baby! Do you want that? you want my cum, don't you?! I can feel you clenching! cum with me!” oooh yes!! I feel myself starting to cum at his dirty words. he keeps pounding into me fucking me through my high “oooooh fuck! take it” groaning in my ear, cumming deep inside me thrusting hard a few more times before he falls on top of me out of breath. I run my hands through his hair, still buzzing from my high. I missed you so much, I say softly. he moved so he could look down at me “I missed you too y/n you have no idea” he held me close playing with my hair. “all I thought of was you, my love, you are the only thing that gets me through my day knowin I get to come home to you”. I love you, Spencer, I whisper, smiling softly, “I love you too.” We fall asleep like that, smiling in each other's arms.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Jewels to the Crown

Based off this comic here

@beef-brisket

-

Lucifer looked out over his vast kingdom, his glowing red eyes reflective in the glass and his face was down turned. Hell used to be a prosperous place with his kind everywhere ruling over the land. He remembers his father telling him about how their population used to be.

Now it was just him and his daughter Charlie ruling over the land, his late bride Lilith long gone to the cruel cold dirt. They only managed to have one child together, that was nowhere near enough.

Charlie: Father?

Her own reflection was behind him, her face painted in a concerned expression that he wished to wash from her features. She didn't deserve to have a burden such as this, even if she wasn't of breeding age it was only a little ways away.

No, this was on Lucifer alone. He would deal with saving their species.

Lucifer: Yes?

Charlie: Are you alright? You seem tense.

Lucifer sighed, he turned to her and walked over to his throne, his red fur cloak dragging on the ground. It was more a show of wealth and power rather than being cold.

Lucifer: I will be dear, don't worry about it. I'll handle this.

-

At the same time, a warrior by the name of Adam from the far away nation of Heaven was on the way to put the dictator King Lucifer more than just in his place but six feet under.

Little did he know of the fate for not only himself, but for everyone else that this mission of his set in motion.

[vaguely-concerned]

listen I just... this path of harding's loyalty mission with this specific party. the disrupted self squad. the trauma has made me a stranger to myself Have You Seen Me I can't find my way back union. team fractured reality and I'm piecing it and myself back together as best I can (will you keep me company in the meantime?). the echoes and the implications. as above so below, as in you so in me, large cosmic scale to painfully small personal psychological scale. pain from the distant past still alive and snarling to be known in the now, and pain right now and ongoing but forgotten and unseen, supressed by means natural and unnatural (what's a little blood magic to help denial and dissociation along between frenemies huh solas). the extra meaning 'spite' takes on as a phrasing here (because it's all IN THERE this is all in the big text of the game!!! the themes echo back on themselves everywhere you listen for them!!!!). rook who once more doesn't even know that they don't KNOW they're also speaking to themselves as well as harding in this scene, to their own broken self and mind partially mirrored in someone they love (broken by the same perpetrator, even, in this case!!!!!!!!! hello solas once more), harding who doesn't quite know she's also speaking to them as well as to herself, to the dwarves, the titans, the world; everything and everyone that has ever been hurt, but whose stubborn kindness still has room for it all. (even for solas. hello again. we cannot escape you it seems mr dread wolf it's almost like you and your plethora of fuckery are thematically central or something (grudgingly affectionate).) even without perfect understanding of the full picture, the simple intention to be kind matters.

(forgive me for my sentimental nature and everpresent rookanis bias for a moment but ALSO lucanis looking over at rook Like That in this context, while those words are being spoken!!! spite's role in urging him towards escaping, living, thriving, instead of merely numbly surviving, and how it ties in with harding's revelation and decision here. and rook who opens doors and stays to walk through them with you, at the end being found and helped through a door of their own, and lucanis himself being one of the people to do that. do you. do you get me. I feel strange and wild.)

most of all harding just. saying the whole thing. summing the whole game up. 'we're different, but we're not gone. we will thrive -- in spite of you'. I was RIGHT about it all the way back in november actually and I should say it!!!!! the game is saying this on purpose. 'and then... everyone was there. and that's when I knew we'd be okay. that I'd... that I'd be okay'. my friend lace harding might be the only person who really gets it huh. and what a legacy for varric to leave behind in the narrative (and what a common da2 W, the little team that couldn't does it again better than anyone's ever done it by doing it the worst anyone's ever done it, hawke can't stop winning by always losing). no salvation but each other but my god that is plenty. my god. that is enough. once more

my head is in my hands I love this game desperately, it rewards really sitting with and taking in the themes so much. i'm so sorry for dropping a bunch of my own metas in there like that but I'm finding it so hard to say what I need to say all in one go, it's just -- it's so big! it's so much! I have so many thoughts to express about my unified theory of veilguard and only my poor battered neurons to do it with, please look upon me with clemency and, perhaps, forbearance. and it's so interesting that you can bring another companion along with rook and harding in this scene and have it mean just as much with slightly different nuances, have it resonate just as much with the overall meaning the game is trying to get across, because they're truly all tied in with each other that way; they're all part of a larger truth. you think it's one theme after another but the damn things overlap etc.

[katuschka]

Blue – One

Jake Kiszka x reader/f!OC 1500+ words

lovers to enemies to lovers; part one of miniseries

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): Mentions of sex, including casual sex and rough sex, lovers without commitment, angst, break-up, heartbreak, unrequitted (?) love, lots of reminiscing, sadness.

When my husband pisses me off, I often listen to P!nk and this is basically the result. Pretty much unplanned.

I honestly thought it would be fun. I don’t normally do one night stands and casual hookups; I’m just not into it. But with him, I made an exception, because he simply smelled so good. Like cedar splinters under early summer sun, with a whiff of powdery flowers and something dangerously animalistic. And the smile! 

And then, even before the night was over, I knew I needed and wanted more. Jake got into my system like a highly addictive pain pill, making me feel so much better without me even having realized I had been hurting. He stayed until early morning, feigning tiredness at first, only to admit to his reluctance to leave when he remained awake, nestling between my legs once more. 

And so we agreed to meet again. 

I should have known nothing good could come out of it, but when he made me cum for the first time, that feeble voice inside my head responsible for good judgement simply said ‘farewell Blue, it was nice knowing you, but you’re on your own now’, leaving me at the mercy of the sound of his moans that kept ringing in my ears instead. It followed me everywhere during the first few days. Even when I was at work, those visions of him hovering above me, all sweaty and breathless, made it really hard to concentrate on the task in front of me. He had me firmly in his grasp since the very first touch.

I think the reason why I became so obsessed with him so quickly was that I hadn’t expected it to be so intense. Fun? Yes. But that good? First nights are often awkward, simply because you’re unfamiliar with the other body, not knowing how it would respond or what the person likes. I’m speaking from my personal experience, so maybe it had been just my bad luck. But with him? Ever since that very first night, Jake’s been the best fuck I’ve ever had.  

I doubt it will ever change. But here we are; him looking sulky and me ready and determined to leave for good. I’ve made up my mind, I’ve had enough. But despite my resolve, and the angry mask I’m wearing to hide my hurt from him, I’m still drowning in his treacherous dark eyes. 

His stare is intense, mirroring my own frustration. “It was just a blowjob.” His lips barely move when he pushes those words through his gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, I get it Jake. You’re just an asshole. It was just a blowjob THIS TIME!”

At first he blinks in surprise and I really wonder if he really thought I didn’t know. But then the frown returns. “What exactly do you want from me? We’re not exclusive. You never wanted us to be a… couple.”

Yeah, he got me. I really didn’t, even though it was never worded that way, or worded at all.  And rather than it being a sincere wish, I blame it on my self-defense mechanism. I’ve just brushed off all his (feeble) attempts to take another step, because our paths were constantly diverging and I feared I would get lost along the road. At first I tried to make him understand where the source of my fears came from, but he never seemed to get that, or at least he never said he did, so I stopped trying eventually. 

We were just lovers. And no strings attached. It wasn’t perfect – except those intimate moments when it totally was – and I should have noticed how it started to take its toll on me. A few times I considered calling him to tell him that we should stop, but the smell of his skin always pulled me back. 

Days turned to weeks and weeks to months and he was often gone for quite a long time, leaving me longing after him. I missed him greatly during those periods, and when he disappeared for the first time, I realized it was not just his dick and caresses and breathy moans that kept me coming back. I missed his laughter, too. Or how he raised his eyebrows when he got shy. Or his incessant babbling about swords. 

It was one of the reasons why we couldn’t work. I realized how deeply I fell in love with him when he was out of reach, and knowing that this would never change was simply driving me insane, making me feel vulnerable. The worse it got, the more I tried to hide it. 

At first he tended to apologize for his absence, but then he stopped and I soon started to suspect the reason why: Too busy to miss me, but not always working. 

Despite that, I naively – and perhaps selfishly – thought that he cared enough to stop hurting me and proving my point that we weren’t fit to be together. 

I never let another man between my legs since I met Jake, and god knows some tried real hard. They couldn’t get past my firm belief that they wouldn’t compare to him. 

With a pang of sadness, I realized that this feeling was not mutual. I’m not enough. It’s time to go before I’d lose my mind completely and irreversibly.  

He’s still waiting for my response, and the only way to break this silence is to lie to him. I don’t want to make a scene either, because… why? He’s right, there’s no justification for it… other than my true feelings that I will not confess. He just admitted to sticking his dick in some other woman’s mouth while I was sipping hot chocolate and scrolling through pictures of him. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you,” I say as calmly as I possibly can. He knows what it means.

“So we’re done?” He rolls his eyes when I open my wallet to pay for my own beer, placing the bill carefully next to his own glass. “I don’t want your money.” 

“And I don’t want you to pay for me.” Saying that is easy, but it takes another deep breath to be able to continue. “Yes, we’re done.”

“I don’t understand you.” His angry face transforms into something which I don’t want to analyze. I’ve tried many times before, because he always treats words as scarce goods that need to be distributed with caution, leaving me in a sorry state. It’s time to stand up and go. 

“I know,” I mumble while sliding my tote bag over my shoulder. I feel how my body fights it and my legs start to tremble as I get up to leave, but it has to be done. “It should have been just one night.” 

His nostrils flare and he purses his lips – exactly the reaction I expected, but not one I secretly hoped for. 

The rest is a blur. I can feel my cheeks burning as I try to keep the tears at bay for a little bit longer. I mumble the last ‘goodbye’ before I turn my back to him and disappear into the night. 

The mild breeze soothes my hot, flushed face as I close my eyes and finally let those tears flow from under my eyelids. The missing feeble voice inside my head, responsible for my conscience and sanity, would undoubtedly tell me to run and never look back. I know as much; that’s why I finally mustered enough courage to do what’s best for me. But she’s not here and I’m on my own, still insanely stupid and full of childish hope that he will follow me. I can almost hear his voice behind me, but that’s just my imagination. He doesn’t care. He never did. Regaining my determination, I finally walk away, feeling like a baby deer with my legs wobbly and unsure. 

I continue to walk without purpose, sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. Through my blurry vision, I see the judgmental faces of occasional passers-by. Normally it would make me feel self-conscious, but they can kiss my ass now. All those feelings I have been hiding from him, I need to get them out of my system. 

I had been in love before and I’m familiar with the feeling of loss. But this withdrawal is a brutal one, and my mind keeps betraying me. 

I can still feel his hands on my hips as I ride him, my own fingers digging into the sweat-covered flesh of his heaving chest. I can taste the salt on my tongue that licks a long stripe up his exposed throat. There were times when we were so lust-driven and wild we had to breathe through our bared teeth to keep ourselves from biting each other… sometimes in vain. 

I’m going to miss how his eyes looked when he came, how my soul reflected in that darkness. How my heartbeat quickened everytime someone said his name. I wonder if that’ll ever change.

Jake.

I forgot how to pronounce it without moaning. And I wonder if I’ll ever feel relieved that I made this choice. Right now it compresses my chest like a bandage wrapped too tight. I might not bleed out immediately, but both body and soul need to breathe. 

Inhale.

I can't stay on your life support There's a shortage in the switch I can't stay on your morphine 'Cause it's making me itch I think I'll get outta here (P!nk)

This is going to be a really short mini series, so I'm using my taglist for one shot. I apologize in advance if this is not your cup or tea and be sure to let me know...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep  @takenbythemadness  @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust @Ironlotus90 @stardustsam

[pixeldistractions]

Oh, for how long had Maria dreamed of the bliss she got to live last night. How long? She could give you a real answer, actually. It was two years, two months, and nine days since she first laid eyes on that man and fell hopelessly, senselessly in love with him.

To have his strong hands on her body, and to touch him back, everywhere, to watch his eyes close and his mouth open with pleasure. To kiss him and have him kiss her back in deep, hungry gulps. He was starving for this, too. The playful affection, the tenderness, the release. Yes, he was. All this touch, all this need. He needed it, too. And she knew she hadn’t imagined his feelings for all these years. The feelings were real. She saw that crystal clear last night. 

But, now what? 

Maria wasn’t sure either of them thought about how they would still see each other at work afterwards. At least, for the short time he had left here. She arrived at work first, unable to focus on anything until she saw his face again, because how would they be? Would he avoid her? Would it be weird? Would he tell her it was all a huge mistake? And why had he needed to leave so fast this morning? I’m not mad, she had texted to him, though her text remained unread. 

She got so much of what she wanted last night, but at what cost? Did she ruin their friendship, would this ruin his life, would she break her own heart just to have this small taste? And then he was leaving, and what came next? She got what she hoped for and ended up with more questions than ever before. 

And Drake said, “Maria? Can we, like, start on the supper club menu now?”

She couldn’t draw herself away from the window, watching the yard for Jordan’s arrival. She was just about to give up and get started on their work when Jordan came straight to the kitchen. 

“I need to borrow Maria,” he said to Drake.

“Ugh, whatever,” Drake huffed. “I’m not waiting for you. We’re serving pork this week, and I’m going to make the call on sauces. Don’t try to complain about it later.” 

“Drake, I don’t care what sauces you pick,” Maria said as Jordan pulled her by the hand out into the greenhouse. 

In the kitchen, Drake opened and closed the fridge and pantry doors with theatrical effort. 

“Hi,” Maria said first.

“I hope I wasn’t too awkward last night.”

She laughed. Awkward? Well, yes, maybe a little, maybe just at first, but she expected that. “You were perfect. You were you.”

“Oh… how am I?”

“You know, quietly panicking, overthinking, ready to run.”

He laughed then. “Hey, I didn’t run for six hours.”

“Maybe next time you’ll stay for ten?”

“Can I have a next time?”

He was adorable. He was gentle and pure and lost and sad, and she felt an overwhelming purpose inside her to love him to pieces. She couldn’t help it, she squeezed his cheeks.

“Jordan, you can have as many times as you want.”

“Wow,” he grinned at her, pulling her close, and she wondered if he was flooded with the same surge of warmth through his body as she felt through hers, the memories of last night, or were they premonitions of the future, and how badly she needed more. So much more. Oh, how would her needy heart endure it when he was gone?

“JoJo goes to bed at eight-thirty. See you later?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Then, in the greenhouse, where they had forgotten they weren’t lost in their own private walled garden, he kissed her again. 

And from inside the kitchen Drake’s voice whined, “Eeew, you guys! Several health code violations right there.”

— "my sweetheart #9: uprooted" part 2/6

next -> // my sweetheart #9 start // index

notes: this piece is the new one that just popped into my head and needed to exist. So now it exists! It slots in nicely here in chapter 9, and serves as a bridge between their first night together and the short perfect bubble that follows for a few days after.

So Jordan didn’t stay until sunrise, but he did bring a rose for her. Also, Drake is unflirty and he’s not having any of their shenanigans. He just wants to work on that supper club menu. And he possibly wants to steal a little thunder while head chef Stephanie is on her honeymoon. But doesn’t he realize he can have all the thunder he wants because Maria has zero culinary ambitions while her head is full of Jordan?

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Can I have a request for Vox x reader (that are dating) where we went away for seven years (forced by Alastor, because he secretly owned out soul but we didn't tell Vox to cause drama between The two.

And we couldnt even tell Vox, but one day we showed up at Voxtech after 7 years and he's with one of his co-workers, so we thought he forgot about us and moved on, but when he sees us it brings something in him he can't explain

-i thought this was really cute 💙 anyway I love ur stories!!!

Seven Years Too Long

I never thought I’d be back here.

Voxtech loomed before me, taller than I remembered, neon signs flickering against the dull Hellscape. It felt foreign now, like I was trespassing. Seven years. Seven years, and I still knew the exact path to his office. Muscle memory carried me through the halls, past demons who barely spared me a glance. Maybe I really was a ghost.

I hesitated at his door, heart hammering. What if he wasn’t here? Worse—what if he was?

Then I heard his voice.

“Look, just send the reports to my desk. I don’t have time for this.”

That smooth, digital purr. It hadn’t changed. I almost smiled. Almost. But then another voice answered—sweet, flirty, a co-worker from the sound of it.

“Oh, come on, Voxxy, you’re always too busy. You should let loose a little.”

I froze. My stomach twisted. I shouldn’t have come. Seven years was a lifetime. Of course, he moved on. What did I expect? That he’d still be waiting? That he’d spent every day wondering where I was?

I turned on my heel, ready to disappear again—

But the door clicked open.

And there he was.

For a second, he didn’t move. His screen flickered, static cutting through his usual display. His pupils shrank to pixels. “What the fuck—”

His breath hitched. “No.”

The air shifted, charged with something I couldn’t name. His usual smug composure shattered as he stepped forward, staring like I was an illusion. His co-worker said something—I didn’t hear it. Neither did he.

“Vox…” My voice came out small.

He reached for me, then hesitated. “You—” His hands clenched into fists. “You were gone. You—You left. No. You—You couldn’t have—”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to go.”

His screen glitched again. “Seven years.” His voice was thick, warbling with static. “Seven fucking years, and you just—”

His hands shook. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? Do you know what it’s like to search everywhere for someone who’s just gone? To think—fuck—to think they’re dead—”

“I couldn’t tell you,” I whispered. “I wanted to. I swear, I—”

“Bullshit!” His voice cracked, but his grip on my wrist was gentle. “You don’t get to just walk in here and—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No. No, you do. Because if I let you leave again, I—I can’t—”

The static in his voice trembled, and suddenly, his arms were around me. Desperate. Almost crushing.

“You’re real,” he muttered against my hair. “You’re real, you’re here, and I—”

I gripped his jacket, burying my face in his shoulder. “I never stopped loving you.”

Vox’s arms tightened. “Yeah? Well, I never fucking stopped waiting.”

[diviningtime]

Lilia pulled back, blinking in startled surprise at the outburst, but said nothing. She understood that he was going through a lot but he needed to realise that aside from arguing not changing anything, some things were just part of the lived experience, part of life, and some parts were rarer or harder than others.

"More than you," she countered firmly, having reached her patience limit on this particular refrain. "You're a child. Even with all your extenuating circumstances do you honestly think you have more experience? That in five hundred years I haven't have gone through enough of the things you're feeling?"

Why did teenagers always think they were the first to experience any kind of emotion? That the previous generations couldn't possibly understand.

"I know what it's like to think maybe being what you are is the problem," Lilia told him, her voice more gentle now, more patient. "For the things you've gone through to make you feel that if you weren't a witch then life would be better. Certainly easier. And--" Lilia hesitated a moment, but determinedly pushed through her own reluctance. "And I know feeling alone. Not just from losing people, but...experiencing my life out of sequence, the gaps I would have, it made it hard to connect to people. Or to be safe." Especially when witch hunters were listening, when there were spies everywhere. Or gossips.

"I get it, Teen," she added significantly. "But getting angry isn't going to help with what comes next."

"Not enough where I ever get to meet one!" Billy protested. Oh fine, he'd heard it before. Doctors weren't too upset about the amnesia, it was okay! Those things happened! But they never happened around here, they never happened within sight. Just some far away thing that was completely useless to him.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to complain about it, but right now? It was all he felt good for, a never ending kvetching session with nothing ever resolved.

"Well, what do you know?" He said with exasperation, dripping with hurt sarcasm. There it was - he'd been surrounded by that exact sort for so long. Who did wishing normalcy hurt? It wasn't like he had some overpowering urge, he didn't mind standing out when it was something he chose, like the way he dressed or wore make up.

He sniffed, wiping a sleeve under his nose. "Whatever you're willing to share, I'll hear."

[baekuras]

Killed the Putrescent Knight and also finally that damned Hippo Bayle and also that Knight were easier, even with extra help with the Hippo

or if not easier more enjoyable

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Batfanon would be way more fun if they treated Jason like a domesticated villain

[enby-mori]

I think if any characters were married it would be poe and ranpo.

[aceyanaheim]

My real Christmas present was Athena coming back for this saga anyways ty Jorge