#guilty pleasures are for those who feel guilt my friends

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 4,0k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x afab!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), jealousy, Jay showing up, rudeness, Jay bothering you at first, awkwardness, Jake butting into your room.

SMUT WARNINGS . oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, voyeurism (kinda), creampie.

< go back . next chapter >

Maybe it was a mistake coming home early, after all, no one wants to watch their childhood friend get fucked, specifically not jerk off to it either. Well, Jake is a nobody. He froze as he watched you get fucked from behind, though you two seemed pretty busy since you didn’t see or hear him come in. Jake would be lying if he said he didn’t just keep watching and spy on you.

The tent in his pants grew with every second he spent looking at you. Yeah, maybe you weren't moaning HIS name but something similar, so his imagination did the rest thinking you were saying it. He brought his hand inside his pants to 'caress' himself, thus releasing some tension that was coming from there. His palm ran up and down, applying pressure in certain places, feeling bigger with each squeeze. God, what a pervert.

Jake's heart raced as he unzipped his pants, the soft fabric rustling against his fingers, stirring up his lust, but also his guilt. He couldn't help but feel guilty for spying on and nearly pleasuring himself with his childhood friend and roommate. "This is wrong," he thought, "but damn it feels so good."

He leaned back on the doorknob just enough to peek out and see the scene I described in my previous post (lol, self-promotion??? Yeah) while he unzipped his pants quietly enough to not be heard, although I don't think anyone was going to hear him with how loud your moans were.

Well, I won't digress any further, Jake guided his thumb and index finger delicately from the base to the tip to wrap them around where it started. He proceeded to wrap the rest of his hand around what was left of the shaft to begin his downward and upward movements on his member, almost in rhythm with Jay's thrusts. His imagination was in charge of making his movements resemble those of your partner to fantasize that it was HIM who was fucking you.

Jake's breathing came in ragged gasps with each rhythmic stroke, matching the erotic sounds from the next room. His mind raced, imagining every position his friend was in would be him doing it, fueling the fire of desire burning within him. "I'm being selfish," he thought, guilt eating away at him as he continued to pleasure himself, though the guilt wasn't enough to keep his hand away from his cock. With each movement Jake felt himself getting closer to his release, he could feel the tension in his balls, a sensation that spread throughout his groin like wildfire. With a sharp inhale and biting down on his fist, a hot stream erupted from the tip of his twitching member. His body shuddered, feeling weak and spent as he finally calmed down.

After that, Jake's chest heaved as he caught his breath. He felt a mix of relief and embarrassment, his gaze fixed on the door to the next room. 'Holy shit's' echoed in his mind, his hand still wrapped around his exhausted member. I think the post-nut clarity hit him hard enough that he ran out grabbing things off the floor and leaving the apartment.

Shitty book, this was all his fault. Well, technically it was his fault, he had given the book to his friend after finding it on the floor, he could have kept it himself and been the one to stick it up to whoever crossed his mind, but he preferred to give it to his best friend... oh, that sounds like jealousy. Although Jake obviously wasn't jealous, no no. If he was jealous, would he have a problem with using the notebook he found himself? Perhaps—

Ding!

This gave him an idea, it was like for the first time in a long time he was thinking with his cock and his brain at the same time. He went back to his shared apartment and sat on the couch waiting for his friend in silence, after all, it was his right as the 'owner' of the notebook.

It didn't take you long to go downstairs to get a glass of water, although of course, it took you a while to get down the stairs without staggering. When you turned around you saw Jake sitting on the couch with a playful look on his face, you were about to ask why he was there when he spoke first — "I bought the wrong ticket, at the end it was for next week, although I arrived a little tired, what about you?", smiling with a mischief unknown to you. You couldn't help but frown at his answer. Something in his tone made you hesitate, but your body was too sore to think clearly. The throbbing pain in your gut and the small temblors in your legs made anything, even a conversation with Jake, seem like a monumental task.

“Are you sure it was a mistake?” you asked hoarsely, surprising yourself with how you said it, so you brought a hand to your forehead to pretend your state was due to something more. He shrugged, smiling with the same carefree expression as always while fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “Well, let’s just say I wanted to spend some time with you too. Is that wrong?”

It took a few seconds for your mind to process his words. Something in his tone, in his smile, made you feel a pang of unease, but the pain in your muscles clouded any attempt at analysis. — "Jake, I'm not in the mood for jokes. I feel horrible, I feel like I'm overwhelmed." He let out a small laugh and stood up from the chair with an almost rehearsed movement. — "You know what would help you? Going out for some fresh air. A short walk. I swear it feels like magic for your overwhelm."

You leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “I don’t even have the strength to go down the stairs, much less go outside.” Jake approached with slow, almost calculated steps. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and although the gesture seemed friendly, there was something in his gaze that you couldn’t decipher. “Trust me, okay? Just a few minutes outside, and I promise that when you come back you’ll feel better. Besides, I can prepare something in the meantime.”

The convincing tone in his voice, mixed with your exhaustion, made you let your guard down a bit. Maybe you did need some fresh air, or at least a few minutes away from the world you had created in your room. With a heavy sigh and no energy left to argue, you accepted his proposal. Jake helped you put on a light jacket, making sure to arrange it carefully on your shoulders.

— "Just a few minutes," you promised, as you slipped on your shoes, swaying slightly. He held your arm with unexpected gentleness, smiling a smile that seemed sincere. — "Exactly, don't strain yourself too much. I'll be here waiting when you get back." You saw him open the door with an almost theatrical gesture, bowing slightly as if you were a queen crossing a threshold. Despite the pain in and out your body, you let out a soft laugh. Jake stood in the doorway, watching you disappear down the street with a relaxed expression... until you were far enough away.

He closed the door with a soft click, and all the kindness on his face vanished. His eyes took on a calculating gleam, and his lips curved into a half-smile. Wasting no time, he ran for the stairs, taking them two steps at a time until he reached your room. When he opened the door, he was met with the chaos you’d expect after fucking. The bed was unmade, with the sheets hanging almost to the floor, as if someone had fought a battle, only instead of blood it was other fluids. A nightstand was cluttered with napkins, string, and candy wrappers. The desk on the other side was just as chaotic: a crumpled pile of papers, a carelessly closed laptop, and a couple of uncapped pens rolling off the edge.

On the shelf, between books and small stuffed animals, there were albums and boxes that looked like they had been put up in a hurry. Some posters of your favorite singers adorned the walls, slightly crooked, as if they had been put up a long time ago and no one had bothered to adjust them. On the floor, clothes lay in piles; some items still looked clean, but others clearly needed to be torn off in a hurry. Oh freaky you.

Jake moved quickly, checking every corner. He started with the desk, picking up papers and moving the laptop carefully. Nothing. He frowned and moved to the nightstand, opening drawers and rummaging impatiently. Nope, also nothing. Finally, his eyes landed on the bed. “Sure, the usual one,” he muttered to himself, pulling back the sheets and searching through the folds. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found what he was looking for: the black notebook. The Sex Note. He held it in his hands, looking at it like it was a newly won trophy. His fingers slid across the cover, caressing the letters etched into it.

— “So here it was…” — he sighed, letting a grim smile cross his face. His eyes shone with a mix of triumph and darkness. The kind expression he had shown you before vanished completely, replaced by something much more sinister. He opened the notebook slowly, flipping through the first few pages as a barely contained laugh escaped his throat. His mind was already beginning to make plans, he coul keep the notebook permanently- IS THAT THE NAME OF HIS FAVOURITE SINGER? — "Damn, Heeseung? I guess you really wanted your 'y/n' moment," he whispered to himself, closing the notebook with a thud and staring at the door, as if he could see you there, vulnerable and defenseless. He knew that tonight would be the start of something much bigger... probably.

You returned home after a long walk, feeling much better. The fresh air had cleared your mind and soothed your headache, though you still felt slightly dizzy. As you opened the door, the warm aroma of food enveloped you like a comforting welcome. Jake was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. Hearing you enter, he looked up and gave you a smile that seemed too perfect, almost as if he had been rehearsing it. — "You’re just in time. I thought some hot food would do you good.” You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “You cooking? Since when are you so considerate?”

He chuckled softly, serving the contents of the pan onto two plates. “Don’t get used to it. I’m just being a good friend.” You sat down at the table as he placed a plate of rice and stir-fried chicken in front of you, accompanied by hot tea. Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you decided to eat, silently thanking him for the effort he had made.

Silence filled the room, interrupted only by the sound of silverware and the news on the television. A female voice said in a serious tone, “Singer Lee Heeseung, known for his outstanding career, has reported feeling unwell over the past few days. Close sources say the artist also mentioned experiencing a strange episode of memory loss, stating, “It’s like I forgot an entire day.”

Your fingers paused on your fork, and you felt a strange pang of nervousness in your chest. You looked at the screen, but it didn’t show any more details. The news quickly changed to another topic, but you couldn’t get that information out of your head. Jake, on the other hand, continued eating calmly. Well, at least until you heard him laugh. It was a low, almost restrained sound, as if he was trying not to let it out completely. You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you laughing at?” you asked, puzzled.

He lowered his fork, still covering his mouth as if to hold back his laughter, though he couldn't quite hide the malice in his expression. — "Nothing, nothing..." —he answered at first, but his tone only made you feel more uneasy. You set the fork down on the table with a soft thud, looking directly at him. Finally, he looked up at you, and though his smile was still on his face, his eyes had a gleam that you couldn't interpret.

— "You'll understand in a few hours." His answer left you silent. A feeling of unease ran through you like a chill, but Jake simply resumed his food, as if he hadn't just said something that left you with more questions than answers.

The awkwardness lingered as they finished eating in silence. Jake, acting surprisingly helpful, stood up first and began clearing away the plates. “Leave it, I’ll wash them,” he said with a carefree smile, taking everything over to the sink. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually relented. “Okay, thanks…” you mumbled, still distracted by what had just happened at the table.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was busy, you decided to quickly go up to your room. Your head was still reeling from the feeling that something wasn't right. When you opened the door, a shock ran through you from head to toe: the mess was even worse than when you had left it. Clothes that had previously been piled up in a corner were now thrown all over the floor; the papers on your desk were more jumbled than ever, some had even fallen to the floor; and the sheets on your bed were wrinkled in a way you didn't remember leaving them.

Someone had been there.

Your heart began to pound as your eyes darted around the room. That’s when you remembered: the notebook. You ran to the bed, frantically searching through the sheets and pillows. Then you moved to the desk, throwing papers to the floor in search of the one item that couldn’t be missing. Panic grew with every corner you searched without success. When you stopped, out of breath, your gaze drifted to the wall next to your desk. There, stuck in a disturbing order, were two post-its. You frowned as you moved closer to read them.

The first one said in large, clear letters:

"You're fucked."

The second, just below, added:

"Literally."

You froze for a moment. Those had Jay’s signature on them. No like, he had literally put his signature in the corner of the 2nd note. You shook your head, trying to calm yourself, and reached out to rip the post-its off the wall, but a sound behind you stopped you. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Jake’s voice, soft and controlled, echoed from the doorway. You turned immediately, feeling the air grow thicker. Jake was there, leaning against the door frame with an expression that was a mix of amusement and something darker. In his hands, he held the black notebook.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Is this what you were so worried about?” he asked calmly, lifting the notebook just a little for emphasis. His smile was unsettling, almost mocking, and his eyes seemed to watch you with an intensity that made you feel naked. You didn’t know what to answer. You just stood there, paralyzed, as Jake slowly entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Jake tossed the notebook towards you in a casual motion, as if it were any ordinary notebook. The black object landed on the mattress right in front of you, and though you wanted to remain calm, your hands shook slightly as you reached for it. “Read it,” he ordered, his tone firm, but with a hint of mischievous amusement. You frowned, your gaze alternating between him and the notebook. Reluctantly, you opened it, your eyes scanning the words written in impeccably neat handwriting:

"Exactly at 21:28, (____) will be in her room, nervous about hearing news about heeseung, and then start feeling inexplicably hot".

You paused, feeling your face begin to heat up. You forced yourself to look at Jake, who now had a grin so wide that his eyes seemed to sparkle with pure mischief.

— "What does this mean?" you asked, your voice coming out more breathy than you would have liked. Jake shrugged, taking a couple of steps towards you as he shoved his hands into his pockets. — "It means exactly what you read," he replied matter-of-factly. "You just have to wait, right?" His tone was light, but there was something in his expression that made you feel like you were being part of a game whose true terms you didn't know.

Just like how it was described, your body temperature began to rise, especially in the middle of your thighs. You tried to cover it up by sitting up on the bed, but your best friend sat down next to you. He leaned in just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was stripping away every thought you were trying to hide. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t know what’s going on?” he murmured, his voice deep and almost hypnotic. The distance between you both seemed to shrink with every word, and even though you wanted to move, something kept you anchored in place.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked in a whisper, air escaping your lips as your eyes locked with his. “Using the notebook I found, what else?” he replied with an eerie calm, his words accompanied by a smile that seemed to hold more secrets than you were prepared to hear. His hand slid gently down your cheek, and though you wanted to pull away, you found yourself unable to move, trapped by the intensity of his gaze. Your breathing became ragged, and before you could even process what you were doing, your fingers closed around his, guiding him in a movement that lit a dangerous spark in his eyes.

The change in his expression was almost imperceptible, but when his lips found yours, they did so with a softness that took you by surprise. The kiss was slow, almost reverent, but every movement of his mouth against yours carried an unspoken promise, one that you felt in every fiber of your being.

A soft sigh escaped you as his hands found your waist, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity you felt growing in the air. When his lips left yours, a momentary chill took over you, but it was replaced by the heat of his kisses descending down your neck, each one leaving an invisible mark that seemed to burn into your skin. The brush of his face against the fabric of your shirt made your breathing stop for an instant. Everything about him seemed calculated, but also inevitable, as if each of his movements were written in advance... oh right, he wrote them.

Even though his kisses felt like heaven and you loved feeling like a delicate doll, there was a part of you that was calling out to him, that was crying out for him. You leaned on his shoulders and applied a little pressure to get him to move down, eliciting a playful giggle from him, granting your request. He kissed the band of your panties before pulling them back with his mouth, a gesture that made you giggle softly and then caress his cheek, a laugh that turned into a breathy sigh when his tongue came into contact with your clit. You threw your head back as his head moved closer to your core, kissing and sucking on everything he could.

You felt his gaze even though you couldn't keep your eyes open for long. Jake felt this as approval to stick two of his fingers inside you while he sucked on your clit, making you scream even louder than you already were. Your sounds and movements only made Jake smile more, who couldn't hide it, nor could he hide the sighs of satisfaction he let out every time he swallowed a bit of your essence, which made him look like a prisoner enjoying his last meal.

It didn't take you long to reach your climax with all the effort your friend was putting into it, and boy was it a powerful orgasm, because you tried to push him away complaining that "it was too much", but he buried himself further into your cunt until you couldn't take it anymore and you released, wetting his face and almost drowning him a bit in the process, despite him insisting that he didn't want to pull away.

You sigh deeply, your breathing still ragged from the intense orgasm you just had. You gently caress Jake’s cheeks, looking into his eyes with a mix of satisfaction and desire. “That didn’t seem scripted,” you whisper with a mischievous smile on your lips. Pulling him close, you kiss him passionately, savoring your own taste in his mouth. Jake kisses you back with the same intensity, pulling you closer to his body, making your tongues dance together as if they already knew each other.

His hands begin to explore your body eagerly, caressing every curve and corner. He stops especially at your ass, squeezing and massaging your buttocks with desire, he gently pinches your skin feeling the silky texture of your flesh. "You are fucking delicious" — Jake says as he breaks away from the kiss, a mischievous smile on his lips, — "I love your ass, it's perfect," he growls in a hoarse voice of desire. "I want to see it closer" — he sighs as his hands guide your body until you are forced to get on all fours for him, exposing your ass in all its splendor. "You are a goddess, (___), I could admire this ass forever" - Jake murmurs, giving you a soft spank that echoes in the room.

You smirk as you move back a little to rub your ass against his clothed erection, biting your lip when you hear his ragged breathing as his hands caress your waist. Jake wastes no time in freeing himself from his imprisonment called “clothes”, throwing his top away and kicking the pants and boxers off somewhere in the mess of your room.

He gives his member a few pumps before sliding it between your wet lips. “Are you afraid to put it in?” you say in a mocking tone accompanied by a giggle that is soon cut off by a thrust. God, you felt every vein on his member at the same time as the sponginess of his tip. Nothing but needy moans and the occasional babble that you didn’t even understand came out of your mouth.

"What happened?" — Jake asked, although more than a question it was a mockery, — "come on, mock me again" he almost spat as he gave slow but deep thrusts. "Is that what you want Jakey? For me to m-mock you?" — You laughed softly, answering him with what little of your mind you had left just to tease him. You began to move your hips a little to feel more friction, which was a serious mistake since it made Jake hit the exact angle that made you scream and left your legs shaking. "There? You like it there? Shit, you're squeezing me so good, you're doing it so well" — he pants as he tries to keep the rhythm that allows him to hit your spot. What a gentleman.

You tried to tell him you were close but all you could do was mumble 'i'm's, though Jake understood, lowering one of his hands from your hip to your clit where he drew slow circles on it, a complete contrast to the thrusts he was giving you. It wasn't long before you were soaking his member with your release.

It wasn't long before your friend followed suit and spilled inside you, giving a few extra thrusts to make sure he had emptied himself.

You both stayed in that position, trying to control your breathing to calm down a bit.

The silence was broken when Jake sighed — "So, round 2?"

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay @jakeswifez @lxsunshine @zvxba

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

©: made by jayniks on tumblr, do not copy or adapt my works on any platform without my consent.

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend that helped writing the smut scene

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[denial-permanente]

Hello Mrs Edge. I saw a post from a woman who had some guilt because she was weaning her husband off penetration and I wanted to share my own experience with this for her benefit.

For various reasons my partner had been unable to satisfy me for some time. When it started happening we went round to some of the adult shops and discovered sleeves and extensions, and from there we found chastity cages, and the harnesses and strapons available (I had no idea then it was called foxing and absolutely LOVE the expression!). I admit that I may have been more enamoured of the idea of "no more penetration" than he was 😂 but he wanted to please me, and I found the idea to be erotically intriguing.

I realized that in order to make "no penetration" work I had to condition him to accept it; that is, to retrain his masculine instincts to make him a better partner. It took some time but I found that it worked best to keep "foxing" nights penetration free (for him, of course!). He learned to fox me to my satisfaction (which you have no doubt learned can be absolutely fantastic!), after which he cleaned up and came back to bed to cuddle me off to sleep. Unlocking him was off the table on those nights because I wanted him to learn that foxing nights were for MY pleasure.

While I am excited to make him "penetration free," I am not ready to make him orgasm free, so about once a month I pick an evening to remove his cage so he can have an orgasm and some "intimate touch." Usually I have him rub against my bum with a little cream. As your husband noted in his response, this allows him an orgasm while reminding him that he is not allowed penetration. Sometimes if I feel especially generous, I have him lie back while I use my hands to bring him off. And I admit that I have come to relish telling him that my hand is the best that he can hope for, since he will always be denied my pussy 😈.

I discovered that it was best to have him clean up and replace the cage as soon as his orgasm was finished. For some reason making him lock up when he did not really want to keeps his attention level higher and returns his focus to me more quickly, which is my goal.

We have been doing this since Covid, and even though I now have him well trained, I do know that my "no penetration" regimen has not been easy for him. He wants to please me, but he is still a man so it is hard for him to hold back those urges. Naturally I felt a bit guilty about denying him at first, but as my confidence grew, I discovered that my new sense of power and confidence helped me to lead our relationship to new levels; indeed, we are both much happier than we were in the old days. Like you, I do not think of myself as a dominatrix, but there is no question between us that I have the power and control over my partner. If only our friends knew our secret!

Finally, I want to thank you (and your husband) for all that you do. Until recently, I had no idea that there were other people in a penetration free lifestyle. Like you, we are a totally normal appearing middle aged couple, more South London than Soho, if you know what I mean. A decade ago, had anyone told me that this could work I would have thought them mad. It has been so wonderful to see that there are other "normal" 😂 couples who live this way out of choice, not necessity. 💋🎶 Mistress Melodie

Hello Mistress Melodie! First, thank you for sharing your experience for Mistress Karin and other women who are learning about relationships like ours. And I agree that if someone had told me about this 20 or 30 years ago, I would have told them they were crazy!

While you did not say why you got into this, I like that you took charge and investigated things with your partner. Many of the messages that we get are from couples where the husband introduced it as a kinky thing and now their wife has no idea what to do. It sounds like you both have good communication and are able to talk to each other about what works for you both. Well, more for you, I guess. 😂

You call your relationship "no penetration," but obviously you mean that only for your partner. It's funny but I do not see my own relationship that way... rather, I think of the Ranger Vixskin as my husband's "real" cock now, like a replacement for the old one. And since I can make him come (in his cage, obviously), I really do not think about him lacking in anything. However... I have learned that men think of these things differently 😉. Maybe it's a different thing because you do unlock him for sexual things. My husband has said that sometimes that makes men even more aware of what they are not having.

I think that you bring up a good point about how the improvements in your relationship making it easier to deal with the pangs of guilt. My husband used to tell me that he was doing okay locked up, but it wasn't until I could really see the... improvements in his demeanor and feel how he was definitely happier around me that I could trust myself enough to keep him locked longer (and eventually permanently) and to just let any pangs of guilt float away. It's hard to explain, but I could just sense that he was more happy and content, even if he was having a bad time at work or if things were going on in our lives. Feelings like that give you the confidence to keep going, and having confidence in yourself and in your relationship means that you no longer feel like you "should" unlock him, or let him come, or allow him penetration, or do anything else that you might feel guilty about.

Thanks you again for commenting. If you have a Tumblr account, please message me to say hi and chat.

[candycandy00]

Human Part 2 - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

This is a sequel to my fanfic, Human. Please be advised that these are dark fics. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Cursed Spirit Reader. Extremely dubious consent teetering on the edge on non-con. Oral sex. Gojo being sadistic but also feeling guilty. 

Divider by @benkeibear!

Gojo spent the next week in turmoil. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done to the frightened little cursed spirit in Shibuya. In all his years fighting curses, he’d never once felt a single shred of guilt for hurting them. They were monsters who attacked humans. They deserved whatever torment they received. And if they were the intelligent type who could speak and understand enough to fear him? Even better. 

At some point in his youth, he realized he enjoyed terrorizing them. He wasn’t a cruel person by nature. He never enjoyed the suffering of other human beings. But cursed spirits were not human. In his mind, he likened it to a child burning ants with a magnifying glass. And so he never stopped to reflect on how brutally he treated curses. Until now. 

The weak little cat cursed spirit had looked disturbingly human, like a cute twenty year old girl in a cat ears headband. And it was that resemblance to a human that made Gojo feel so sick. The thought of doing… what he did to her to a human woman was repulsive to him on a primal level. And yet, her body had felt just like a human’s, reacted just like a human’s. The memory of watching her cum, hearing her sweet moans and cries, was so vivid in his mind, he was sure he would never forget it.

The arousal Gojo felt from tormenting cursed spirits had mixed with that of feeling her soft, trembling body beneath him, and it had overtaken him. He’d wanted to destroy her and fuck her at the same time, so that’s what he’d tried to do. 

In the end, after releasing his rage and desire inside her, he’d calmed down and actually looked at her. Bloody and broken and crying and violated, she looked so pitiful that even he felt sorry for her. He was trying to decide whether to finish her off of spare her when her human friends had barged in. 

The horror on their faces made him truly feel guilt for the first time that night. Because it forced him to look at her from their perspective, to see not a defeated cursed spirit but a young woman who’d just been brutally raped. Their devotion to her, and her apparent protectiveness toward them, had shocked him and made him second guess himself. Had she been telling the truth when she said she loved humans? And if so, what did that make him, the person who tortured her? 

And so his mind was full of her, the look of terror on her pretty human girl face, the little mewling cries of pleasure when he touched her ears, the screams of pain when he ripped those ears off. He found himself lying awake at night, jacking off to the memory of fucking her, and then feeling disgusted with himself. 

If only she had been lying, if only she had really been a monster, tricking the two girls into being her friends so she could use them as cover or hurt them in some way later. Then maybe he wouldn’t be such a monster himself. 

That’s when the idea hit him to track her down, to watch her for a while and try to catch her hurting someone. It would soothe his guilty conscience to know she wasn’t so innocent after all. 

So he found her. It wasn’t difficult. A sorcerer of his caliber could easily detect cursed spirits, no matter how weak they were, and it was clear that Shibuya was her stomping grounds. All he had to do was hang around the streets popular with young women, and within a couple hours she appeared, flanked on either side by her human friends. 

The three girls were laughing and talking, each sipping some kind of trendy drink. The cursed spirit looked more beautiful than he remembered, out here in the bright sunshine. She wore denim shorts and a crop top that flattered her figure. On her face was a lovely smile, and it occurred to him that he’d never seen her smile because he’d spent their entire encounter hurting her. 

She didn’t seem to sense him at all. She was probably too weak for that. She passed by within a few feet without even realizing, and he heard her tinkling laugh, her cute voice. She sounded so different when she wasn’t screaming or crying. 

He was hard within seconds. 

For the next few days, he followed and observed her. She spent her days with her friends, and when they were unavailable, usually in classes at their college, she roamed around the streets of Shibuya. She spent her nights in various empty hotel rooms in the area, able to avoid being caught just by her nature as a curse. When only specific people could even see you, it was easy to sneak around. 

To Gojo’s dismay, she never hurt a fly. Even when she would have been justified in doing so. One evening a man accosted her on the street, making obvious advances on her. Even a weak cursed spirit like her could have easily killed him, but she simply pulled free of his grip and fled, far too fast for the man to catch her. Once she stopped a child from chasing his ball into traffic. And every day she took the time to feed a stray cat in the area. 

By all accounts, she was a sweet and gentle creature, which made Gojo feel more monstrous with each passing moment. Finally, after over a week of watching her, he decided he had to speak to her. 

He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. Did he want to apologize? But how do you apologize for doing something so horrendous? Regardless, he could decide when he’s face to face with her. So one night he landed on the balcony of her hotel room, and opened the door. Silly little curse didn’t even lock it. 

She was sitting on the bed, watching television, when he walked into the room. She turned to look at him, and for a moment, she seemed frozen in place, her eyes wide. Then, all at once, she leapt from the bed and ran for the door. This one was locked, and in her panic she fumbled with the deadbolt but couldn’t get it open. In desperation, she darted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. 

Gojo walked over to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked, but a locked door was nothing to him. She had to know that. He sighed, then twisted the handle, popping it right off. He pushed the door open and stepped into the bathroom. He found the little curse sitting in the bathtub, knees pulled up to her chest, her whole body shaking. She was muttering something over and over, and it took him a moment to realize what she was saying. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

Genuinely curious, he asked, “What are you sorry for?”

She glanced up at him, her eyes already wet with tears. “For staying in the empty hotel rooms! I didn’t think that counted as hurting anyone! I’ll never do it again!”

“Oh,” he said, feeling a little disappointed. For a moment he thought maybe she’d actually done something bad that he’d missed. “I don’t care about that. Get out of the tub. I just want to talk to you.”

She was shaking so bad, it took effort for her to get to her feet. She stepped out of the tub, and stood with her back against the opposite wall. She was wearing a thin T-shirt and shorts. He couldn’t help thinking about the fact that she was probably not wearing underwear. 

Gojo opened his mouth to speak, but her meek voice reached his ears before he could start. 

“Please don’t hurt me again! I’ll do anything you want!”

He wasn’t wearing his blindfold, and she kept glancing at his eyes and then looking quickly away, as if they frightened her. 

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” he said, but he didn’t think she believed him. Her frantic eyes darted back and forth as she trembled. 

Finally, she took a single step away from the wall and, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, she looked shyly at the floor. “You… liked touching me… right? I… I won’t struggle. You can t-touch me again, if you promise not to hurt me. You can… do whatever you want with me. Just please don’t tear my ears off again. It hurt so bad…”

Gojo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected this. It was such a pitiful offer. He could do whatever he wanted to her regardless, and she was completely powerless to stop him. But there was something so cute about the way she said it, his cock was immediately hard. 

Fuck, he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking her again, although the possibility was in the back of his mind. How was he supposed to resist when she was basically offering herself to him? 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was still disgustingly wrong. This wasn’t consent. This was a terrified curse doing the only thing she could think of to survive this encounter with him. But that thought alone turned him on even more. Maybe he really was a monster. 

Without a word, he stepped closer to her and reached out. She flinched and drew back, but she couldn’t avoid his hand. He gently gripped one of her ears and stroked it, remembering that her ears seemed to be a major erogenous zone for her. She whimpered and clenched her thighs together, her breathing becoming faster as his thumb caressed her ear. 

“Your ears are really sensitive, aren’t they?”

She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “Please… please don’t hurt them.”

Hurt them? Why would he do that when rubbing them turned her into a squirming, panting little whore? Oh, he did hurt them before. What had he been thinking? 

“You said you’ll do anything I want, right?” he asked, still stroking her ear. 

“Y-yes,” she breathed out. 

“Do you know what a blowjob is?”

She looked at his face then, her own suddenly beet red. She knew. She gave a tiny nod. “I’ve watched a lot of movies, so I know what that is.”

He wondered what kind of movies she’d been watching, but he didn’t wonder long. She dropped to her knees in front of him and reached her shaking hands up to open his pants. He could have helped her, made this slightly less awkward for her, but watching her fumble with his zipper was too cute. 

When she finally tugged his pants down enough to free his cock, she paused for a moment to stare at it. He wished he knew what she was thinking as she slowly, carefully leaned forward and gave the tip a few tiny kitten licks. She looked up at him nervously, then took his entire cock into her warm little mouth. 

She had no technique, and her movements were uncertain, but she felt incredible. He reached down and touched her ear, causing her to tense up. She didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t dumb enough to hurt her while she had his dick in her mouth. He didn’t want to get bitten. Instead he rubbed the ear as he had before, gently. She began making sweet little mewling cries around his cock, and he had to hold himself back from cumming on the spot. 

In his mind, he pictured her as he’d seen her on the street with her friends, laughing and smiling. She’d looked radiant. Now those lips that had smiled so prettily were wrapped around his cock. Soon enough, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and his hand slid from her ear to grip her hair. He held her head steady as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth and filled it with cum, then continued holding her still until she’d swallowed it all. 

When he released her, she pulled away slowly, as if unsure whether she was allowed to or not, and then looked up at him. “W-was that okay?” she asked. 

Fuck. Fuck! He shouldn’t have come here. He should have left well enough alone. He already felt guilty enough, and now he was only making things worse. 

But she looked so fucking irresistible on her knees before him, terrified, quivering, her hard nipples clearly visible through the flimsy fabric of her shirt, an obvious wet spot on her shorts, between her thighs. Rubbing her ears must have turned her on, even in a situation like this. Wouldn’t it be cruel to just leave her like that? 

He bent down and scooped her up from the floor. She jerked and cried out in surprise, but quickly went still in his arms, her hands clutching his jacket as he carried her out of the bathroom. He took her to the bed and laid her down, and she watched him apprehensively as he pulled her clothes off. 

As he suspected, she wore no underwear, and so she laid there silently, her skin flushed, as he looked over her form. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, when she again flinched at his touch. “I promise.”

She didn’t respond, only stared at him with those wet, frightened eyes. He opened her legs carefully, remembering the way he’d wrenched them apart the first time. He couldn’t even recall why he’d been so enraged at her. Even if he’d believed she was with the curses who attacked him, she herself hadn’t lifted a finger against him. 

He leaned down and ran his tongue over her wet slit, enjoying the way her entire body stiffened and she stifled another cry. Then, he dove in, eating her out like a man starved. His tongue circled her clit, his lips closing around it to suck gently as his fingers plunged in and out of her dripping wet cunt. She twitched and cried out, her hands gripping the sheets. 

Remembering how sensitive her tail was, he reached over and gripped it, firmly rubbing it up and down, feeling the soft fur. Her body nearly jolted off the bed as she screamed out, not in pain this time but in pleasure. He kept this up until she came, shuddering and moaning. 

He stood up from the bed and looked down at her. He wanted to burn this image, of her blissed out and riding out the high of her orgasm, into his mind. If only to replace the last one he had of her. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you before,” he told her when her dazed eyes started to clear. 

And then he left. 

Over the next few weeks, he dropped in on her from time to time, always with the intention of simply talking to her. But he always ended up fucking her, making her cum over and over, then leaving her a sticky, crying mess. After the first couple of visits, with Gojo showing no signs of violence or anger, she began to seem less afraid of him. 

He knew it was all still wrong. He was taking advantage of the fact that she probably didn’t understand human relationships enough to realize what he’d done to her was unforgivable. 

But now she clung to him so sweetly, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pounded into her, his lips nibbling gently on her ear. 

He could never hurt her again, even if he witnessed her attacking humans. Her ears and tail, things he’d used to torture her before, were so precious to him now. He only hopes that someday, eventually, she’ll smile for him the way she smiled with her friends, happy and glowing under the sun. 

[sweetiewrites]

𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙩 !

𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎: you and hobie are roommates and best friends (who occasionally make out), but gosh you feel so guilty for wanting more from him

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: afab reader !!! reader is masturbating !!! oh also this is smut !! no sex for reader... yet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏: 640

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: god i am a hobie simp. i want to do a part two for this but next time from hobie's perspective... idk idk. also ask me about my spidersona because it'd make me happy.

you felt selfish for wanting more from him. 

what more could you want? his body already had your back against the kitchen counter, his lips already firmly pressed against yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist trapping you between his chest and the counter. 

the only thing you could think about was hobie brown. from behind you, you could feel his cold hands snaking up your blouse as if daring to pull it above your head, his crotch pressed against yours and under your breath, you were seething at the jeans for ensuring you didn't feel a thing, and his tongue snaking into your mouth letting you taste spearmint gum he was consistently chewing. 

this was pure bliss. 

your hands clung to the sides of his face, pulling him deeper into the kiss and in one swift motion, you were lifted off the ground and onto the countertop. 

hobie didn't know how badly you wanted to take control of this situation. 

one of his hands slid forward onto your stomach and then slid down to the waistband of the long skirt you were wearing as if threatening to slip right past it. it'd be so easy for him, it's not like you would stop him. 

god, control yourself. he's just your friend. you shouldn't trap him in kisses just because you're desperate enough to do anything. 

your mind spoke clear words and you weren’t one to ignore it. you slowly pulled back, letting out a laboured breath and a frustrated sigh. "i am so sorry, hobie." you quickly jumped off the counter, your high heels as your feet hit the floor. you brushed past him and into the safety of your bedroom. 

your mind was frazzled, the only thing you could think to do was kick off your shoes and collapse backwards onto the bed. your feet firmly planted into the mattress as your knees road up. you hiked your skirt up gently probing the lace panties with your fingers. 

when you put them on they were dry and now they were soaking wet. 

you pulled your panties aside; your fingers quickly slipping into your entrance like you had done many times before. this time, however,  it was so easy considering how you were already dripping into your panties and the bed. 

as you worked your fingers in and out you tried to ignore reality instead picturing your best friend, hobie, hovering above you pushing his fingers in and out. in your head, you could see his deep brown eyes intensely gazing down at your frazzled form; you could imagine his longer (significantly more skilled) fingers replacing your own and you could picture that smug smirk on his face as he pushed deeper into you. your toes curled beneath the bedsheets and your breathing laboured on to keep up with your active imagination. 

as you continued; your roommate's name fell from your lips in a breathy moan. hoping you were quiet enough to not alert him. the taste of mint was still tingling on your tongue and you wanted nothing more than to feel those lips on yours again. your back arched, giving yourself a better angle to go faster. you could hardly think,  and you could focus on keeping quiet as his name continued falling from your lips; reciting, "hobie please," as if it were a prayer. 

then there it was. the explosion you had been chasing. a rush of pleasure fell over you and you rode the high with your fingers still inside of you until the crushing wave of guilt drowned you. 

your fingers slid out, and you sat up. your hair was frazzled and your mind focused on anything but your own actions. 

you had done many crappy things in your life, but masturbating to your best friend & roommate has got to be about the top five. 

[sunnylands-world]

Neon green

Pairing: draco x fem reader

Summary: you and the rest of the students have graduated from Hogwarts but when you come back things change for you and your enemy...

Word count: 823

Warning: p in v, talks of Dead people, enemies to lovers in my very bad style of writing 😬

Universe: Harry Potter

A/n: I hope you like this. I'm extremely sorry for the wait. I hate making my requesters wait weeks for a fanfiction but I hope I make it worth the wait for you guys. Love you all 💗

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You never were sure how you hated him; and you were even less sure as you heavily inhaled his scent, trying to grasp onto something in this reality as he buried himself inside you. None of it would be fitting as you think back to days where you chewed your lip in frustration and your fist balled at your side. A part of your heart was set ablaze looking into his eyes. Not from love but from sadness.

He'd been so ugly to others and yet he had moments that put a twist in your chest like a sad movie. The sad blonde boy was a bully. He was beautiful though, intelligent and loyal to those he was actually close to. You friends so suffered from his torture would be disgusted and you wanted to say sorry but the only thing leaving your mouth was cries of pleasure.

Can someone's good qualities really weigh more than their bad ones?

Your eyes glazed with tears of endearment and your body shook in the intense intimacy of it all. His breath was shallow like he'd pass out. All those years of pain and yet he still managed to make you feel like you needed to hold him, care for him.

"I've wanted you for so long" he sighed, hands beside your head gently holding him above you. You were trapped, not only with this position but inside. A piece of you always fighting for him even after he hurt people.

When you saw him across the lot his blue eyes gleamed by the tree he used to sit in and his hand rested on the old bark. You couldn't stop yourself from walking his way. You did so stubbornly, walking slowly like being near him made your blood boil but when he saw you he looked guilty.

you chewed the inside of your cheek to fight your curiosity, the burn to care. Remember what he did, remember he hurt your friends, your thoughts repeated and soon you were biting your cheek enough to fill your mouth with the coin taste of blood. How could you be near him after what he did? How could you walk over here like he wasn't responsible for deaths? How could you even breathe his air?

Breathe his air

"I'm sorry" he moaned softly, seeing the tears in your eyes and you only whined in response. You were dancing in flames and ice. It felt so good but made you burn with guilt as he slammed harder. If he could bring you pleasure and make you forget he'd do so until he was the only thing buried in your thoughts. Your hands moved to his back and hissed. It took you a while to realize you were breaking the skin.

Were you pulling him deeper inside your sensitive walls or trying to hurt him?

The tears falling from your eyes could have been from pleasure or sadness for your friends who will never breathe again. He didn't stop you as drew blood from his pale skin he only leaned in closer to your neck. His wet tongue touches you lightly along with his Breath. He kissed you softly, whispering about how he hoped you'd forgive him but he'd cuss every now and then as clenched around him or when his tip, just as sensitive as you, hit the soft spot inside you.

Your head falls back giving him more access to your neck as you soft moans fill the air. You were stung like a trader as you called out to him wrapping your legs around his waist. It was like swimming in a pond of lust. Cold water felt heated, the deepest, dirtiest things said out loud and did as god watched from above. Part of you knew you should stop and beg for forgiveness but it felt so good and so intense as it rushed through your veins.

You floated in the river hunger for more, dripping for anyone willing to offer you touch and in walks Draco Malfoy making you weaker with every whisper and touch of his finger tip. His blonde hair was sweaty like his skin and you know the cuts you made would burn. He was so beautiful like this, desperate for you and groaning and grunting as he went deeper. It was almost evil how he ruined you, chasing his end.

In this moment you loved him with the burn in your belly and hated him with your thoughts. This was the start of a wildfire, so much trouble would be caused but this is why they called bad boys troublemakers. Once you get a taste of the sweet heaven, lord knows he'd never hear you ask for him again unless you were screaming his name while committing a sin.

Everyone wants to go to heaven but you experienced it on earth and you hated how good it felt Cumming for the enemy…

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Draco lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @sarahthehuffpuff, @supercoffeeblogs, @thatwattpadobsessed, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @imafangirl22, @phildunphyisadilf, @jac1ndaa , @lovelycassy

[eepwtf]

This is so long sorry and my grammar sucks but also I don't think i've really taken the time to appreciate tumblr for this.. honestly just thank God for the anonymous option because this is a little embarrassing. At least I can save face. I wanted it to be a bot but halfway through I figured cai probably can't handle this sort of thing because of the restriction, I wouldn't mind a fanfic but I wasn't sure if you took request for those.

I was a lil inspired by that stiles thing you wrote recently (so good by the way) and wanted to request a soldier boy boarding school thing, w user/(reader)) who like, very clearly transferred from a catholic boarding school, in a way that It goes without saying. Benjamin and user connected quickly at the beginning of the term, always hanging out and being sort of friendly and Ben helping user adjust to the new environment and little things so he isn't such an easy target (and he was)

Basically what I'm saying is they were really close, too close, And user/reader is Ashamed of it, Ashamed of his thoughts and how he starts to feel but he can't help it. He starts to distance himself from ben. Late at night, Ben hears crying coming from the bathroom the both of them share (they share a room, the two of them) like. real tears. Ben enters, I don't know how else to word it from here but user was basically jerking off to something of his. When I wrote this, I was thinking about that peach scene from cmbyn, it's very different obviously but just that same kind of shame, gross and guilty feeling... but Ben basically.. helping. If you know what i mean. Also because it's sort of a mess, user hasn't done it before.

anon, first of all, thank you for trusting me with your idea and sharing something so personal. the catholic guilt trope is chef's kiss for setups like this—especially when paired with the messy emotions and intimacy you’ve described. and don't even worry about your grammar; your message comes through loud and clear. i totally get the inspiration you're drawing from, and i’m interested.

also i can totally see reader jerking off to ben’s underwear, feeling so disgustingly ashamed, but not being able to stop. in the bathroom they share, reader (over here losing his sanity and self control) is crouched on the floor, sweating, trembling. ben’s underwear is gripped tightly in one hand, while the other is clutching a rosary, beads digging into their palm. they’re trying so hard not to make a sound as their cock strains, covered in the stolen fabric, hips jerking forward in broken, desperate movements. each gasp feels like a betrayal, but they can’t stop. they bite their lip to the point of bleeding, muffling their cries of frustration and pleasure.

but the guilt is suffocating, mingling with the rush of their body’s betrayal. they’re trembling harder now, tears slipping down their cheeks as their hand works faster, conflicted whispers slipping out: “‘m sorry. i’m so sorry…” as if apologizing to some unseen force, or maybe to ben himself. the smell of him on the fabric—clean but musky—is driving them insane, and it only deepens the ache of self-loathing. and ben coming seeing him, would probably feel cocky and take over. still being a fucking dick, but helping his friend out with his…little problem. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper that sends a shiver down their spine. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing…”

anywho… if you ever want me to flesh this out as a proper fanfic or as a bot, just let me know!

[hangeslefteye]

Fvckbuddies to lovers HCS for Eren and Porco (modern au?) nsfw apparently

Them because they are simply ✨THE TYPE TO✨Also this makes them my type too xDD Guess who studied their functions?? I'll be writing about these two a lot this week xD

Eren:

Someone blast Deftones xDDD

Look,Eren is the petty emotional type and not the automatic sensless fuckboy.

Considering his EMOTİONAL AF ass, if Eren is choosing this type of relationships,chances are he was cheated on previously.

Aside from trust issues he's possibly trying to forget his ex.

He's depressed af

Or maybe he thinks all women eventually cheat so he's being petty by being an asshole.

What I mean by this is no open expectations talk.

You won't know if your relationship with him is only sexual, or romantic too?

Heartbreaker type backbreaker too

İt's easy to imagine Eren sending you the cliche hook up texts/nudes at midnight -because he gets overwhelmed by his emotions especially at night- coming to your place and ravaging you just correctly.

Sex with him will be always a little angry and angsty :/

Hard to say he exactly cares about your pleasure soo...you better chase your own orgasm tbh xD

Which won't be hard to,he's naturally good at this.

Chances are he has learnt a lot from his ex and he does many things subconsciously.

Also he accidentally remembers his ex when he's with you

You will know when he thinks of them xDD

He's extra degradative and acts you completely like an escort,maybe even worse.

İnteresingly his emotional ass is the type to NEVER do some certain things with his ✨GİRLFRİEND✨

But you are not that.

You are just a simple slut for him.

Facials?Anal?Slapping?Breath choking?Threesome?Degration?

Np

You are not his girlfriend afterall.

Ah,also he's the head-pusher type.You better take it all or none.İt doesn't matter if you puke on it,better even.

And you'll get no aftercare either.

Not that he doesn't care,he does care.

But he should run back to his place before you can see him crying.Because he's emotionally WRECKED.

He's the tears after cum type :/

However his emotional ass was not designed to mindlessly fuck around.

Simply not that.

So even if he escapes from small talk and affectionate kissing,caressing,aftercare etc. he'll fall for you anyways.

İf he realises he has a thing for you,he'll go around trying to find himself an another partner(s)

He might try to avoid you in the process but he could never xD

*insert sudden emotional breakdown out of nowhere*

Congrats

You guys are officially dating now xD

He has a lot of love to give <3 Suddenly he is very thoughtful and loving.A great bf for real.

However (his) trust issues are not easy to get rid of.

He'll constantly check your phone secretly/not so secretly

He'll call/text very often when you are with your friends.

I hope you don't have a close guy friend(s) because...umm you won't have one after dating with him anyways xD

On the good side 7/24 around you

İt can take him months maybe years to trust you so you must put work into that.

Which he surely does worth the effort.

Last thing is...remember the list above?İt doesn't matter how much you want any of those he simply won't ✨disrespect✨you like that.(not that those are disrespectful he's just crazy xD)

Also he'll feel kinda guilty because he wanted some things to be more special and romantic and not random.He'll never admit tho

Adding his sexual guilt into this one,he kinda regrets the way things escalated.

But he surely knows how to make it up to you.

You guys will go to lots of random but cute dates,you get to pick wherever you want and it's done.

He does photo albums <3

He doesn't have to make EVERY MEMORY immortal but...he'll do just because he can xD

Clingy.clingy.clingyyyyy

✨Touch addiction✨

Porco:

You can blast chase atlantic with this one xD

Porco is the automatic fuckboy

Why? Because it takes him A LOT to fall in love.

He simply does not get carried away.

And of course he's in for the thrill of meaningless sex and not the boredom of relationships.

Open talk type of guy <3

He doesn't want to upset you by giving you the false signals and VERY upfront with it.

Doesn't like kissing,touching while on it but he can do it for you anyways.

He actually understands this goes 50/50 so he'll put effort into you.

Aftercare does.not.exist.

do.not.touch.him. when you are done.

Either dress up or leave or he is out of door anyways.

Also he won't see you out of bedroom and very strict with it.

İf you guys have to co-exist,he'll unsee you like you never existed in the first place.

And he's not the type to fall in love instantly after sex.

To him,sex is one thing;love is something much else.

He must know you very well for that.

Shortcut to that is:✨FUN✨

İf he can have fun with you without getting bored or feeling suffocated,eventually he'll want to know more about you.

Just ask him for a concert/party and say you want public sex xD

He looooves public for sure.

Anything risky?He's in.

1-2 maybe 3 hangouts and suddenly he just wants to dance/listen the music.He just wants to have fun and he'll accidentally forget about sex.

He knows he's fucked up when this happens xD

He wants to ghost you so bad xD

Out of nowhere his kisses last longer,he begins to touch you more,he prefers face to face positions.

I think we can all say he's either a doggy or reverse cowgirl man.

Why?

:✨ASS✨

He surely hates long eye contact too xD

And if the awkward pillowtalk hits...he's whipped

He's the type to have occasional jealousy breakdowns, in secret.

He's too prideful to admit any feelings or whatsoever.

İnstead he marks you.

Anywhere visible is just fine.

COLLARBONES!!!!Neck,thighs,chest,back...anywhere.

Outside he either lays an arm over you or gives you his jacket,hat,scarf etc.

His ✨secret✨ plan is to fall in a natural relationship pattern with you without talking about his feelings xD

From outside,he actually looks like your bf but he's too jealous to keep this going.

Eventually he'll blow up.

He'll have a tantrum about how many more men you see.

*insert feelings and the tsundere blush*

Congrats

You guys are officially dating xD

Seems distant and greatly weirded out but...

He's a kitten for sure :D

He was prolly never romantically loved/cared by someone before so...

H-hugging??

That thing is weird to him but, addicting? Like...do it again? xD

He's a kinda attention whore for you but still prideful af

He recently discovered that thing called,umm...cuddling?

Yeah that thing is not very bad xD He doesn't mind when you spoon him or lay his head to your chest etc.

Lap kitten xD *İnsert simp label*

180 degrees of turn about relationships.

Those things are actually cool?

Like,loser you don't have a gf?

But that would only last as long as he's happy/content

He's the 0 bullshit type and he wouldn't stand arguments to protect his own happiness/heart.

Also he'd want lots of space and freedom.

You can be his best friend,but he'll have other friends too.

İf he feels upset/suffocated/cornered etc. you can lose him overnight.

İf things get too routine or boring,you can lose him again.

But he won't let it get there himself.He's naturally good at creating tension anyways.

İf handled correctly he can be the best of everything <3

Enough internet for tonight I'll fix my grammer.... in the morning? xD I hope you enjoyed it <3

[thecameronchronicles]

The Good Girl

TW: cheating. Smut. Language. Praise kink. Spanking. 

SUMMARY: You cheat on Chase with Rudy. 

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Could you maybe do cheating with Rudy/JJ ? I love your fics 💕

WORD COUNT: 1600

The Good Girl

It was a one time thing. 

But it was also the only way you could get off. Whenever Chase touched you, you could only find pleasure in thinking of Rudy. The way his hands weaved through yours under the table when you saw the messages of another girl on your boyfriend's phone. The soft nature of his voice when he took you to his apartment so you could think. The tender feeling of his lips against yours after the tequila made your fantasies a reality. And finally the way he made you come in such force and repetition that it was enough to rival your guilt. 

But this was dangerous. Another party and you were waiting in the wings for your boyfriend. Another success. Another crowd of doting fans and all you could focus on was Rudy. The way he looked effortless but sophisticated without focusing on doing either of those things. Instead, he focused on you. 

"Tequila?" He asked, sliding you the same drink he made you that night. Your thighs pressed together at the memory of how he poured it down your chest and drank it from between your legs-

"No...I'm the sober companion..."

"That's no fun..." He teased, leaning on the bar, his necklace coming to view as you reminisced again. Pulling the metal to you and deepening the kiss as he asked if it was okay. You rocked your hips against him, feeling how hard he was from just one kiss, and needing to know how that felt from within. 

"Wanna dance?"

"No!" You spoke quickly, annoyed he would even ask. You could barely speak to him or look him in the eye since that night. 

"I think we should talk." 

"I don't."

"Then let's not talk." Before you could object, he led you through the crowd where all your shared friends were distracted in blowing off steam to notice him lead you to the hallway of the club. It was desolate and rarely used, but still in eye shot of anyone. 

"What do you want, Rudy?" 

"You..." He pushed himself against you, his hand at your cheek and his lips against yours. Immediately your hand fisted his shirt, needing him even closer before pushing him off. 

"No-"

"Tell me you don't want me. That you don't want to arch your back like that again or come that hard-" Your eyes closed at the memory. At the foot of his bed, his ankles pinning yours apart as he made your overused sex soak his sheets in having come again. And again. 

"It's all I can think about..." He spoke softly.

You couldn't face him, it was too much. You let him touch you in ways he shouldn't. Nobody should. Only your boyfriend. And yet, he made you feel things nobody else did. Not even your boyfriend...

And he followed you as you moved to the alleyway. 

"I don't want to hurt anybody, but I can't stop thinking about that night-"

"I was drunk-"

"No. You were horny." You glared. 

"I was-"

"I waited an hour before trying to kiss you and I don't regret it." He pinned you against the side of the bar's back. Hands on your hips to keep you stationed against him. His hard cock made your lips part when remembering how you choked on him. How he praised you. How he let you touch yourself until you edged, only to tell you those moans belonged to him. 

"Just like I don't regret my fingers inside of you. My tongue...The way you begged for me to go harder as you dug those pretty little nails in my back..."

"Stop..."

"Why?" His voice was softer. His thumbs brushing over the fabric of your breasts. Your nipples hardened as he began to pinch through the thin material. 

"Just let me touch you...let me remind you..." 

"Rudy-" You gasped as he bit your nipple through the shirt, his hand at your leg and pulling it against his hip. 

"You don't want me to know how wet you are, do you, baby? Because you'd feel guilty about making these panties wet for someone who isn't your boyfriend, right?" You hesitated. 

"Well I've got a fix..." He pulled your panties away until they joined at your ankles.

 "Now, they aren't a problem..." He smirked. 

"But this..." He sucked in a breath as he encircled your clit with a teasing figure eight made from his fingers. "This is a problem...

"Please..."

"You're dripping-"

"I know..." You moaned as he teased his fingers inside of you. 

"You remember just what they can do, can't you? How they can bend so perfectly inside that soaked little pussy that you swallow them whole?" You whimpered. 

"You want them to do it again, don't you?" You fought the nod as his thumb brushed your clit. 

"Don't lie to me..."

"Yes..." You breathed, one finger slowly stretching you as your eyes rolled. His hand came behind your neck for stability. 

"There's my girl..."

"Rudy..." You gasped as you fisted the collar of his shirt. 

"That's right, baby. That's the name you should be saying when you're this wet..."

"More...please...please..." You groveled as he set a second finger inside, and then his palm to your clit. 

"Don't hold back...you're free to use me to feel good...so use me..." Your body rode into his hand. His fingers supplied the perfect pressure as he nodded against you. 

"Good girl...keep going..."

"I wanna come...oh my God..." You gasped as he kissed you with a passionate response, smirking as your breathing quickened. 

"You're dripping down your thighs...good job baby…so good…"

"I need you...inside me-" You grunted, rolling your hips as he retreated. Your eyes narrowed before he moved to his knees. 

"Don't hold back. I want to hear you come while you drown me, understand?" You nodded as he toyed with your nipples before lifting your dress and feasting on your drippings. His tongue collected every drop as he thrust you into his face by the actions made of such a skilled tongue. 

"Rudy!"

"Rub your clit baby...right in my face..." Your hand drifted as ordered as he growled. 

"Such a good girl for me..." He rewarded you with a series of suction and flicks as your hips paced in desperation. 

"Coming?"

"I'm...I'm-" Your eyes closed tightly to the stars formed behind your eyes. 

"Keep. Going." He ordered, fingers returning. You knew what he wanted. And your body was already preparing for it. But your nerves were still recovering. The tightness of your next release made you tremble. 

"Fuck me...fuck me right now!" You begged. 

"How?" He questioned as you pulled your leg from over the shoulder he set it on as you were savored by his tongue, turning around as he grinned. 

"Yeah?" You nodded before he kicked apart your feet. 

"Play with it first...I wanna watch it drip..." He stood back for a moment, your fingers needy and quick as he grinned. 

"So good...yes...you make a man wanna come on the spot..."

"On me..." You moaned as he attacked your hips. 

"You wanna wear my cum, baby?"

You nodded. "I want it everywhere..." Your lust spoke for you as he bent you slightly forward. 

"I miss the sound of your ass at my hand..."

"Do it..."

"Yeah?"

"Please..." 

One smack and you vibrated. Two and you pleaded. Three, you were whimpering. 

"Such a pretty little ass..." His cock was at your split. "But I want that pussy coating my cock this time baby..." Before you could agree, he thrust you into the wall. Your body bent perfectly to hit that spot that made your stars into black holes that consumed everything around you. 

"I love how you take me. All the way..."

His hand wrapped around your jaw pulling you to his kith. "Taste how fucking addictive you are on my tongue baby...why I need to risk it to make you come...fuck..." He groaned. "I can't get enough of you..."

"Rudy..." You mewled as he pulled you to a nearby car and over its hood. Staying paced and in tune as his cock never left you for even a second. 

"Now you have something to hold on to..." He was murderous, lifting your left over the hood as you trembled. 

"Come baby...don't fight it..." He moaned to the choke made of his cock with your inner walls. "Good fucking girl..." He smacked your ass as you came. 

"Shit...I'm gonna come...I'm coming!" He groaned, pulling out and turning you over. A grip to the back of your neck. 

"Let me see em-" he ordered, jerking himself hard as you lowered your dress in just enough time to be painted by his cum. Hot ropes staining your skin as he winced through the ecstasy. 

His thumbs came over the dress, setting it over your nipples. 

"When you go home...ask him to kiss here...I want him to taste how hard you made me come...and when he asks, tell him."

"Rudy-"

"You're mine, baby. You make me come, you wear it, it means you're mine. No more fucking excuses." He slapped your ass again as you moaned, a final squeeze leaving you to recover to his threat. Your body was still in need even as he returned to the club, playing friends with Chase as you fixed your dress and tried to ignore how hot it made you. Knowing you would obey, it was time to be with Rudy...

TAGLIST:

@rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999

@hopebaker @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf 

@pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @jjsprettybaby

MASTERLIST

RUDY PANKOW MASTERLIST

[itsawritblr]

"I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script." Or fic, or short story, or novel, or poem, etc.

A lot of new Followers have asked me to read their writing because I'm a professional writer.

I do not do that.

I don't read other people's writing, finished or WIP, for the same reason screenwriter Josh Olson will not read your fucking script.

For those who are new here, I'll repost Olson's great article. If you find it offensive, you're in the wrong place. This is not the writblr for you.

"I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script."

Originally published September 9, 2009 by The Village Voice.

So. I read the thing. And it hurt, man. It really hurt. I was dying to find something positive to say, and there was nothing.

by Josh Olson

We know you’ve been working very hard on your screenplay, but before you go looking for some professional feedback, you might keep in mind the following piece by A History of Violence screenwriter Josh Olson.

I will not read your fucking script.

That’s simple enough, isn’t it? “I will not read your fucking script.” What’s not clear about that? There’s nothing personal about it, nothing loaded, nothing complicated. I simply have no interest in reading your fucking screenplay. None whatsoever.

If that seems unfair, I’ll make you a deal. In return for you not asking me to read your fucking script, I will not ask you to wash my fucking car, or take my fucking picture, or represent me in fucking court, or take out my fucking gall bladder, or whatever the fuck it is that you do for a living.

You’re a lovely person. Whatever time we’ve spent together has, I’m sure, been pleasurable for both of us. I quite enjoyed that conversation we once had about structure and theme, and why Sergio Leone is the greatest director who ever lived. Yes, we bonded, and yes, I wish you luck in all your endeavors, and it would thrill me no end to hear that you had sold your screenplay, and that it had been made into the best movie since Godfather Part II.

But I will not read your fucking script.

At this point, you should walk away, firm in your conviction that I’m a dick. But if you’re interested in growing as a human being and recognizing that it is, in fact, you who are the dick in this situation, please read on.

Yes. That’s right. I called you a dick. Because you created this situation. You put me in this spot where my only option is to acquiesce to your demands or be the bad guy. That, my friend, is the very definition of a dick move.

I was recently cornered by a young man of my barest acquaintance.

I doubt we’ve exchanged a hundred words. But he’s dating someone I know, and he cornered me in the right place at the right time, and asked me to read a two-page synopsis for a script he’d been working on for the last year. He was submitting the synopsis to some contest or program, and wanted to get a professional opinion.

Now, I normally have a standard response to people who ask me to read their scripts, and it’s the simple truth: I have two piles next to my bed. One is scripts from good friends, and the other is manuscripts and books and scripts my agents have sent to me that I have to read for work. Every time I pick up a friend’s script, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring work. Every time I pick something up from the other pile, I feel guilty that I’m ignoring my friends. If I read yours before any of that, I’d be an awful person.

Most people get that. But sometimes you find yourself in a situation where the guilt factor is really high, or someone plays on a relationship or a perceived obligation, and it’s hard to escape without seeming rude. Then, I tell them I’ll read it, but if I can put it down after ten pages, I will. They always go for that, because nobody ever believes you can put their script down once you start.

But hell, this was a two page synopsis, and there was no time to go into either song or dance, and it was just easier to take it. How long can two pages take?

Weeks, is the answer.

And this is why I will not read your fucking script.

It rarely takes more than a page to recognize that you’re in the presence of someone who can write, but it only takes a sentence to know you’re dealing with someone who can’t.

(By the way, here’s a simple way to find out if you’re a writer. If you disagree with that statement, you’re not a writer. Because, you see, writers are also readers.)

You may want to allow for the fact that this fellow had never written a synopsis before, but that doesn’t excuse the inability to form a decent sentence, or an utter lack of facility with language and structure. The story described was clearly of great importance to him, but he had done nothing to convey its specifics to an impartial reader. What I was handed was, essentially, a barely coherent list of events, some connected, some not so much. Characters wander around aimlessly, do things for no reason, vanish, reappear, get arrested for unnamed crimes, and make wild, life-altering decisions for no reason. Half a paragraph is devoted to describing the smell and texture of a piece of food, but the climactic central event of the film is glossed over in a sentence. The death of the hero is not even mentioned. One sentence describes a scene he’s in, the next describes people showing up at his funeral. I could go on, but I won’t. This is the sort of thing that would earn you a D minus in any Freshman Comp class.

Which brings us to an ugly truth about many aspiring screenwriters: They think that screenwriting doesn’t actually require the ability to write, just the ability to come up with a cool story that would make a cool movie. Screenwriting is widely regarded as the easiest way to break into the movie business, because it doesn’t require any kind of training, skill or equipment. Everybody can write, right? And because they believe that, they don’t regard working screenwriters with any kind of real respect. They will hand you a piece of inept writing without a second thought, because you do not have to be a writer to be a screenwriter.

So. I read the thing. And it hurt, man. It really hurt. I was dying to find something positive to say, and there was nothing. And the truth is, saying something positive about this thing would be the nastiest, meanest and most dishonest thing I could do. Because here’s the thing: not only is it cruel to encourage the hopeless, but you cannot discourage a writer. If someone can talk you out of being a writer, you’re not a writer. If I can talk you out of being a writer, I’ve done you a favor, because now you’ll be free to pursue your real talent, whatever that may be. And, for the record, everybody has one. The lucky ones figure out what that is. The unlucky ones keep on writing shitty screenplays and asking me to read them.

To make matters worse, this guy (and his girlfriend) had begged me to be honest with him. He was frustrated by the responses he’d gotten from friends, because he felt they were going easy on him, and he wanted real criticism. They never do, of course. What they want is a few tough notes to give the illusion of honesty, and then some pats on the head. What they want — always — is encouragement, even when they shouldn’t get any.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell someone that they’ve spent a year wasting their time? Do you know how much blood and sweat goes into that criticism? Because you want to tell the truth, but you want to make absolutely certain that it comes across honestly and without cruelty. I did more rewrites on that fucking e-mail than I did on my last three studio projects.

My first draft was ridiculous. I started with specific notes, and after a while, found I’d written three pages on the first two paragraphs. That wasn’t the right approach. So I tossed it, and by the time I was done, I’d come up with something that was relatively brief, to the point, and considerate as hell. The main point I made was that he’d fallen prey to a fallacy that nails a lot of first-timers. He was way more interested in telling his one story than in being a writer. It was like buying all the parts to a car and starting to build it before learning the basics of auto mechanics. You’ll learn a lot along the way, I said, but you’ll never have a car that runs.

(I should mention that while I was composing my response, he pulled the ultimate amateur move, and sent me an e-mail saying, “If you haven’t read it yet, don’t! I have a new draft. Read this!” In other words, “The draft I told you was ready for professional input, wasn’t actually.”)

I advised him that if all he was interested in was this story, he should find a writer and work with him; or, if he really wanted to be a writer, start at the beginning and take some classes, and start studying seriously.

And you know what? I shouldn’t have bothered. Because for all the hair I pulled out, for all the weight and seriousness I gave his request for a real, professional critique, his response was a terse “Thanks for your opinion.” And, the inevitable fallout — a week later a mutual friend asked me, “What’s this dick move I hear you pulled on Whatsisname?”

So now this guy and his girlfriend think I’m an asshole, and the truth of the matter is, the story really ended the moment he handed me the goddamn synopsis. Because if I’d just said “No” then and there, they’d still think I’m an asshole. Only difference is, I wouldn’t have had to spend all that time trying to communicate thoughtfully and honestly with someone who just wanted a pat on the head, and, more importantly, I wouldn’t have had to read that godawful piece of shit.

You are not owed a read from a professional, even if you think you have an in, and even if you think it’s not a huge imposition. It’s not your choice to make. This needs to be clear — when you ask a professional for their take on your material, you’re not just asking them to take an hour or two out of their life, you’re asking them to give you — gratis — the acquired knowledge, insight, and skill of years of work. It is no different than asking your friend the house painter to paint your living room during his off-hours.

There’s a great story about Pablo Picasso. Some guy told Picasso he’d pay him to draw a picture on a napkin. Picasso whipped out a pen and banged out a sketch, handed it to the guy, and said, “One million dollars, please.”

“A million dollars?” the guy exclaimed. “That only took you thirty seconds!”

“Yes,” said Picasso. “But it took me fifty years to learn how to draw that in thirty seconds.”

Like the cad who asks the professional for a free read, the guy simply didn’t have enough respect for the artist to think about what he was asking for. If you think it’s only about the time, then ask one of your non-writer friends to read it. Hell, they might even enjoy your script. They might look upon you with a newfound respect. It could even come to pass that they call up a friend in the movie business and help you sell it, and soon, all your dreams will come true. But me?

I will not read your fucking script.

Josh Olson’s screenplay for the film A History of Violence was nominated for the Academy Award, the BAFTA, the WGA award and the Edgar. He is also the writer and director of the horror/comedy cult movie Infested, which Empire Magazine named one of the 20 Best Straight to Video Movies ever made. Recently, he has written with the legendary Harlan Ellison, and worked on Halo with Peter Jackson and Neill Blomkamp. He adapted Dennis Lehane’s story “Until Gwen,” which he will also be directing. He is currently adapting One Shot, one of the best-selling Jack Reacher books for Paramount.

©2009 Josh Olson. All rights reserved.

*~*~*~*

And to everyone asking a professional to read your work for free:

Yes, I'll read your work if you pay me.

I charge $1,000,000. After taxes. In cash. Up front. And all I'll do is read it. Feedback costs another $4,000,000.

[acapelladitty]

Re: inbox game

"Do you have a guilty pleasure to read or write?"

PS, could I request something Ivycrow, since you mentioned enjoying writing for both? ^^

I find the concept of 'guilty pleasures' odd because I'm shameless in my enjoyments and I feel no guilt about it 🤣 there are certain topics which carry controversy for various reasons that I thoroughly enjoy writing and that includes things like non-con/dub-con and certain kinks. So those would be "guilty" pleasures I suppose.

I also really enjoy writing a transmasc reader and that's probably controversial because it's not my personal lived experience but my transmasc friends (who i do run the fics by just to make sure i'm not talking pure shite) all seem to fucking love it so I'm willing to go on a little faith xx

And you can request anything ye want as long as you send me it in a new ask so I can keep track of it xx

[floralovebot]

I remember reading older fanfictions about Helia/Trix friendships and I found their dynamic really interesting! I can’t find it anymore but there was a post about Helia befriending them in his first year (and most likely the Trix’s first year as well if I remember correctly they were seniors in season 1) as a little act of rebellion from Red Fountain.

I had this hc of Helia being friends with them and particularly close to Icy then having a fallout once he realises what they are up to. Maybe he found out or unknowingly helped them discover they were descendants of the Ancestral Witches, or alerted them about Stella’s scepter and out of guilt he quit rf and disappeared! Then he came back because he knew but he never said anything and it ended up almost causing the destruction of Magix.

I like the idea of Helia not telling anyone he knew the Trix personally then them finding out later on! The angst potentiall!! But then again I don’t think the Trix would keep quiet about it either!

AAGGHHH i've read fics like that too!! there was one a while back about like 14 year old helia meeting the trix and becoming friends with icy specifically! and then when he came back from art school, he couldn't believe they were the witches who destroyed everything. there may have been a scene with him going through the tunnels to cloud tower to confront them but i might be thinking about something else?

anyway! i love those fics :') icy/helia is such a guilty pleasure pairing of mine. he's such her type! just without the crazy murderous personality. plus i love the darcy/helia friendship dynamic as well (besties who judge together!!) and stormy/helia dynamics would be SO chaotic like she would stress him out so much. but i can also see stormy letting out her cute side around him more since he wouldn't judge her for that

AHH it's just so much fun - it's definitely one of my favorite helia fanon tropes.

tbh i don't think he would ever purposely help them or withhold information from rf, but i can see him wanting to believe they're still good and trying to get info on his own first/change their minds. the idea of helia helping them realize they're descendants of the ancestral witches is INSANE i love that!!

and yes! i feel like helia wouldn't want to tell anyone he was close to them or at the very least he would make it sound like they were barely acquaintances and not actual friends. saladin would probably know, but i can't imagine helia wanting to tell the specialists or winx. and a dramatic reveal later on is so good!! but at the same time, the trix would never let him live it down!! they'd immediately reveal that info once they know helia is back at rf Or friends with the main groups. like,, OUGH it's so hard to figure out how the reveal would go yknow?

i love dramatic angsty reveals but i also think it'd be so funny if they just spiderman memed each other

[y2ksnowglobe]

Since I'm apparently incapable of writing fluff to save my life (despite desperately wanting to write a non-sad, kinda hopeful (except we know what happens later) type of Nark fic, and having tried multiple times and I still just have Nick stress baking muffins and little else to show for it) I felt like throwing my Nark thoughts into the ether and see if I can infect anyone else with them.

So I'm a big fan of "I don't deserve happiness and nice things" Lark. I like "Lark doesn't imbibe in anything that will make him feel less terrible because he doesn't think he deserves to feel less terrible" Lark. I like the Lark that reminds me of my senior year of college where I stopped taking my anti-depressants because if I couldn't remember to take them, I was a terrible person who didn't deserve to feel not-depressed anyway. (Note: Not a healthy way to approach your depression)

So how does this Lark get with Nick? That's the question, because if he's in a relationship because it makes him happy, that's not gonna stick. Lark doesn't think he deserves to be happy, so he's not going to pursue that. How do we get, deny himself any pleasure Lark, into a relationship with someone who loves him?

Well, that's where part two of this comes in, because Lark doesn't think he deserves to be happy, but he's also extremely guilty about fucking up everyone else's lives. Every time someone gets hurt in the fight against the Doodler, he blames himself. Every time his friends have to give up something they deeply want to keep fighting, he adds it to the guilt pile. He wants them to be happy.

Does this cause some complications? Sure, seeing them happy makes him happy, and he doesn't deserve to be happy, but he's not going to ruin their happiness. They don't deserve that. So, he'll endure being happy that they're happy. Second-hand happiness that he'll feel bad about, but tolerate.

So what happens then when Nick decides that what makes him happy...is Lark? Is Lark confused? Of course! It doesn't make sense, no one should love him, he ruined the world, he destroyed all their lives! Why should anyone ever love him?

But Nick tells him, No...you're not responsible for fucking up my life. And he's one of the only people who can say that to Lark and have it be true. One of the only people that Lark can't turn around and say that they're wrong, because even without the release of the Doodler, Nick would still have two childhoods, be half demon, and have one of the weirdest parenting situations known to man. His life would be fucked up either way. He'd probably have ended up battling monsters on one of the planes regardless.

And Lark may still be resistant, may still think he's not worth it, but he can't bring himself to break Nick's heart. Nick doesn't deserve that. Lark may think he deserves better, but Nick tells him he doesn't want "better" he wants Lark. Nick says that Lark is what makes him happy, and Lark wants Nick to be happy. Nick deserves to be happy. He might judge him for what he thinks might make him happy, but who is he to deny him?

Nick tells Lark that he wants him to be happy. That seeing those that he loves happy, makes him happy. Lark tells him he's not sure he can do that. Tells Nick he bet on the wrong horse if that's what he wants. But Lark wants Nick to be happy, and if it will make Nick happy...even if it goes against every instinct Lark has...even if he fails more often than he succeeds...for Nick? For Nick, he'll try.

[liloinkoink]

Hi hi, I am so here about learning about yorr dnd AU. I am super super new here so please throw it all at me!!

i did a short summary of the premise for the last ask, so i’m just gonna tell you a bunch about my dude, Ellery

each of us basically brought one of to the table—they started out as our sonas, but they became kind of removed enough to be their own guys

Ellery i have. so many thoughts on. i gave him amnesia which is my guilty pleasure Favorite trope ever so im having a ball

Ellery is a death prophet, receiving visions from Myrkul about whatever Myrkul sees fit to share. Myrkul warns him of the upcoming apocalypse, but sharing this vision w the temple is what spurred the Cyric group to act and kill him, destroy myrkul, and bring on the end times. he felt terribly guilty in the days leading up to his death about his vision causing his own destruction and putting his friends in danger, and that’s had a lingering effect on him even with amnesia

after his revival he’s quieter. he doesn’t know why, but he has the vague notion he shouldn’t speak. he doesn’t share his visions as much unless Mar, who shares them now thru their soulbond, brings them up. his amnesia was probably partially caused by his own guilt, and learning about how his vision lead to the apocalypse and Mar’s death after his own has him very reluctant to gain his memories back (among other reasons. his amnesia fascinates me)

i asked everyone to give me notes about their characters so i could write fic better, and in those notes i asked everyone to tell me how their characters act 1) when calm or in shenanigans, 2) when stressed, under pressure, or in danger, and 3) how they generally speak

for an example, i gave a response for Ellery for all of that

if things are calm he’s probably just chillin quietly most of the time. i joke about elevator music playing in his head 24/7 but i think he’s been like. trying to watch everyone talk/interact to figure out what the people around him are actually like and get to know his friends (again). hes also trying to learn what he himself was like, based on how they approach/treat him, and letting the other four set the pace for their relationships to/with him

he also has a lingering feeling he shouldn’t talk bc of what explaining his vision did, even if he doesn’t rlly remember where that feeling came from, and is especially reluctant to speak up at the start

he’ll respond if spoken to directly and cut in occasionally, or bring smth up if he thinks it’s important, but mostly he’s just watching/listening. the longer they’re together the more he’s going to weigh in on convos unprompted + the more animated/expressive he’ll become

that said. in all points of the story you can also just. rope him into shenanigans or interactions and he’ll kind of just roll with it. if you sit down next to him and ask him “is water wet” he will just keep discussing it with you until you stop. literally you can walk up to him and press A indefinitely he Will just keep going

for what kinda stuff he says and how he talks. i’m giving him the fancy/pretentious end of my word bank. hes getting the fantasy end and PR manager/communications aspects of my speech.

that said, i do think the way he talks has changed since he died. pre ritual he was probably very aware of his position as leader and was careful he was staying like. a good religious leader ™. but now he has less of a filter and is more willing to make stupid jokes or be kind of mean/teasing (esp later in plot). while i do think he’d swear sometimes before his death behind closed doors it IS funny as hell to me if flint and syyrin hear him swear casually for the first time post revival (tho i don’t think, even post revival, that he swears as much as i do)

in high stress/danger situations he’s also relatively calm? at least when everyone else is around. he trusts his team will watch out for him. i like the image of him being relatively quiet in battle using spells and shit from the back, tho a few of his attack cantrips are touch-based iirc so he’s probably in and out. in battle i think he sticks around mar and iscariot bc he knows he and mar need to watch their health together and iscariot will Always help/protect him. i do think the quiet would probs lead to him getting injured and not thinking to mention it until the end of a fight. this Also contributes to him looking scarier on the battlefield. it’s unearned his stats suck ass but the ppl they’re fighting don’t need to know that

i think he sorta sits on his feelings until he literally can’t anymore, either by mar knowing them via shared visions, a physical injury becoming unmanageable, or him being unable to control his expressions abt them. like not saying anything about being afraid or overwhelmed until he ends up shaking or in tears

him being affectionate is the same way. he isn’t gonna say anything about it he’s just gonna go stand/sit near people until he gets what he wants

also i think he just says ominous shit sometimes. at the start it’s bc he’s just. weird. and later he starts saying it on purpose for a reaction while playing it completely straight bc he thinks it’s funny

[sitp-recs]

Rarepair Tag Game

Thank you @danpuff-ao3 for the tag! This was really fun 😍

Rules: List the top rarepairs that you like outside of your OTP, and why you ship it! (Criteria for what makes a rarepair is up to your own discretion.) tagging anyone who wants to do this, maybe @lqtraintracks and @writcraft if you feel like it?

Harry/Teddy

This ship has been a long-standing guilty pleasure fave ever since I’ve read the amazing When It Alteration Finds by the Hardy champion @lqtraintracks, many years ago. Shipping Starker (MCU) in 2019 made my love for Harry/Teddy come back even stronger because I can trace so many similarities between both ships (besides the obvious age gap). Pretty much like Tony and Peter, Harry and Teddy are war orphans whose paths wouldn’t necessarily cross only they did, and the mentor/father figure combo can lend itself to so many interesting narratives, both tender and angsty which is my ultimate jam. This was my very first ship that didn’t have the antagonist component - on the contrary, this brand of romance is even more heartbreaking because they’re so so seriously devoted to each other. They could have been best friends to lovers if not for the whole godfather+ age gap problematique but it makes the ship even more compelling to me. I love the guilt, the want, the inevitability of them falling into bed then hurting through the complications before finally getting together. My favorite fics include (you guessed it!) everything LQT has written especially Beneath a Foreign Moon and Coming Up for Air, plus the stunning Surface Texture by @the-starryknight.

Ron/Draco

I would never have considered this ship if I hadn’t stumbled upon the brilliant A Fine Foray into Fashionable Fellatio by @wellhalesbells - a masterpiece that remains my all-time favorite Dron fic because it finally opened my eyes to their sexual and emotional potential as a ship on its own, outside of Drarry’s shadow. Ron is such a fascinating character, so very different from Harry in his strengths and vulnerabilities, which makes his dynamics with Draco very unique and 100% different from Drarry fics. It’s a delight to see him as a protagonist, I love his sense of humor and I find the idea of exploring what brings him and Draco together (besides being tall Purebloods with strong feelings for Harry 😏) and what pulls them apart when it comes to wealth/status difference very refreshing and compelling. Lokifan handles it masterfully! Now, I might have come for hung!Ron smut, but I stayed for the feels. In the past year I’ve become more emotionally attached to this ship especially as dragon tamer pals thanks to the superb Dreaming Skies by @sweet-s0rr0w and @tackytigerfic and more recently, to a Dronarry gem that’s really a love letter to Dron, The Sun, Shining Above You by @oknowkiss

Ron/Harry

Young Liv couldn’t care less for “friends to lovers” but now that I’m older and mellow, those dynamics are slowly but surely working their way inside my heart. Gosh, I’m so soft for Rarry! I love the idea of them experimenting together as young and traumatized teenagers, and there’s something poetic and right about Harry falling in love with his first and best friend. My heart aches when I remember that Ron was Harry’s most precious person during the Tournament’s 2nd task, being with each other just feels right. Love me some confused pining, domesticity and slight possessiveness /jealousy for them, especially in a scenario where Draco’s involved (yes I am also here for the Dronarry agenda). My first contact with this ship was through Golden Trio fics and the catharsis of comfort sex during the Horcrux Hunt; it was the easiest thing to slide into Rarry afterwards. Now I see them everywhere and am low-key spreading the word among my most skeptical friends (@writcraft is probably thinking “wdym you were shipping them in my Drarry fic???”). If anyone’s curious about this ship or wants a break from enemies to lovers I strongly rec the darling Sun Kissed by @static-abyss,the angsty Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, this hot af Kinkuary by iota the exquisite Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w