#help to begin with. AND OTHER THING!!!!!!!

[poisonf0rest]

wrath of the sea god

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Rafayel is a creature worthy of worship. Something born from the deep sea, something incomprehensible, something that should scare you. And yet his siren song only lulls you in closer, and you fear it may be too late to even think about running away. (deep sea monster!rafayel)

♱⋅── word count: 5.8k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, inhuman raf, possessiveness, worship, breeding kink, tw yandere, tw drowning, tw teratophilia, tw thalassophobia

art credit to @/hcneyvae on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

psst, if you want more monster!raf read this next

What does it mean, to drown in something?

To watch the surface break above you, disrupted by the last bubbles of oxygen leaving your lungs, like a lover’s final kiss. To feel the vicious urge to fight, to struggle, to scream even as you feel your final dregs of strength escape, leaving you cold and gnawing and alone. To not feel fear, because even as your vision goes dark the melody is still there, the voice still singing, cradling you gently as you draw blood. To know, perhaps, that drowning was the only way this story could have ended. 

What does it mean, when I kiss you and finally feel like I can breathe again, even if you were the reason I sank in the first place?

Rafayel has been nothing if not the perfect boyfriend. Clingy, annoying, hopelessly devoted, but perfect for you nonetheless. 

Three months into your relationship, and you’ve begun to notice things that are only just slightly… Off.

For one, Rafayel runs terrifyingly cold, and the baths he gives himself twice a day are even colder than he is, and when he teasingly splashes you with it you scream, complaining he’s soaking in the arctic or the depths of the ocean’s abyss.

But the approach of summer means more baths, more moisturizers, and more of poor Rafayel always complaining about how it’s too hot, too dry. His skin gets bumpy, rough, textured patches growing on the sides of his neck, his arms, down his ribs too. Like something coming to the surface, something cracking through the flesh. 

The list of anomalies goes on.

His joints bend just a little too much, his fingers curving at unnatural angles when he moves quickly or reaches for something. His spine rolls more like an eel or a shark than a human’s, like a creature still adjusting to having bones, something he brushes off as old habits from dance or ice skating. Whenever you take flash photos his eyes come out hollow, even the faintest glimmer makes them shimmer like something not meant for the surface. 

It’s becoming more common to catch Rafayel slipping now, uncanny moments where he fumbles and slows down, repeating certain movements or habits, as though remembering them. Reminding himself of them. 

You’re lounging on the couch in his studio, your legs kicked up onto his lap as Rafayel holds a book in one hand, the other caressing your ankle with the gentle rub of his thumb. Something prickles against the back of your neck and you look up over your phone, expecting to see Rafayel still engrossed in his reading. Instead, he’s staring down at you. Watching you, unblinking, for so long that your skin begins to crawl. 

At first, you don’t really mind— willingly lost in the warmth of his gaze, the way it seems to hold so much unspoken devotion, the way his pupils dilate viciously when you finally meet his gaze. But then minutes pass. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t break eye contact.

"Raf," you say, laughing a little, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. "You're staring."

His lips quirk, just slightly. "Am I? Can’t help it, cutie."

You hum, expecting him to look away. He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, something you’ve always considered adorable, the way his full lips pout and innocent doe eyes seem to plead up into yours, studying you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

Then you realize what’s wrong.

"Blink," you whisper, suddenly uncertain if he's forgotten how.

He does, slow and deliberate, like he’s remembering only because you told him. And when his eyes open again, they shine, hollow and flat, reflecting the dim light of the room like something that doesn’t belong in the light.

“Shit!” 

This is the last time you cut steak with a dull knife. 

It’s nothing severe, but you must have nicked a vein in your thumb, because the damn countertop is splattered with blood, a thick stream of it nearly at your wrist as you run for a paper towel. 

Rafayel was supposed to be by the stove, tending to the vegetables busy sauteing, but when you move to rip a sheet from the dowel, you find yourself bumping into him headfirst. How did he manage to cross the kitchen so fast?

His gaze flicks to your hand, brows furrowed. You follow it, noticing the vibrant red already soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze. Maybe you cut yourself deeper than you though.

"It’s nothing, Rafayel," you say, knowing how worked-up he can get when you injure yourself, fully expecting a dramatic lecture later. 

Turning, you step to throw away the bloody napkins when his fingers close around your wrist too fast. Too tight. Rafayel’s pupils dilate, nearly turning his entire eye black as his body physically follows the trail of blood down your wrist, lips parting just slightly as if—

As if he’s tasting the scent of your blood on his tongue.

"Rafayel," you call to him again, voice shaking. Why is your voice shaking?

He blinks, slow, as if waking from something deep. His grip loosens, but his fingers linger, his thumb dragging just barely across your pulse against the inside of your wrist before he exhales a quiet, low sound from deep in his chest. Something between a sigh and a growl.

“You really should be more careful, miss hunter. You could get hurt next time.”

Neither of you notice the slight acrid smell of something burning in the background. 

The next time it happens late at night. 

After spending the weekend lazing in each other's company, the two of you decided to end the day with a movie, drifting from various positions on the couch to curling up against Rafayel’s chest, the soft glow of the TV flickering across the room. The credits are rolling, low music humming beneath the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing. He’s cold, almost unnaturally so, compared to the sticky, sweltering summer night air, but you can only be thankful for that fact as his chill and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into something hazy, that liminal space where thoughts slip too easily from your grasp.

When suddenly, it just stops. Rafayel’s body goes still beneath your touch. 

No breath. No movement.

Just complete and utter stillness.

It doesn’t register at first, not fully. Still feigning sleep, you fight to keep your own exhales even, purposefully holding your breath to get your heart to calm from its erratic skip, the hairs on your arms prickling, some primal part of you sensing it before your mind catches up. Wrong.

You shift slightly, pretending to be lost in a dream, just enough to press closer to his chest, to feel the gentle rhythm of where his lungs should be. Wrong.

But nothing comes. Rafayel’s chest does not rise, his heartbeat does not echo against your cheek. The only movement is the gentle circling of his fingers against the tender flesh of your ribs, tracing the curve of bone. Other than that, he is completely, utterly motionless beneath you, the kind of eerie stillness that isn’t possible for a human. A stillness reserved for hunters, for predators. Wrong. 

Something is wrong.

Your pulse kicks, a sharp, violent thud-thud-thud against your ribs, under the tips of Rafayel’s fingers, and in that instant—

Rafayel breathes again.

A slow, deep inhale as if rousing from sleep. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers slipping under your shirt as he shifts beneath you, stretching out his long limbs with an exaggerated yawn like nothing happened at all.

“You still awake?” His voice is drowsy, laced with warmth, so natural you almost believe it.

You nod, pressing closer, trying to shake the creeping chill settling in your bones. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you were too tired, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, your mind playing tricks on you. You were simply tired from the long week. Simply haunted by nightmares that no longer exist. 

But you feel it. The way Rafayel’s fingers idly stroke over your side, slow and soothing, almost seeking out your own heartbeat as close as he could get to it. The way he breathes too deliberately now, a flawless imitation of what he thinks you expect to hear. A rhythm that’s just a little too shallow, a little too perfect. 

Then, there’s something prodding and coaxing into your brain, and instantly, the feeling of calm returns. But your pulse does not slow, because the thought has already settled in the back of your mind, something cold and certain.

He didn’t start breathing again for his sake.

He did it for yours.

Rafayel must have been sculpted by divine hands. A Greek statue given breath, something carved from impossibly white marble and polished by time itself. 

His is a kind of beauty that isn’t soft or gentle, but arresting, almost violently so. One that makes your breath hitch every time he turns to face you, all sharp cheekbones and full lips, somewhere devastatingly between beautiful and handsome, possessing every muscled curve of a swimmer’s body honed by centuries in the depths. It isn’t just his face, his form, his effortless strength. It’s the way he moves. Angelic and otherworldly— graceful, powerful, always with the effortless magnificence of the ocean itself.

And, of course, his voice.

He hums under his breath sometimes, a habit he seems to be letting slip the longer the two of you are together, barely audible in the quiet hours when you’re cooking or painting or lounging together. At first you mistook it for an old record or the echoing sound of the ocean from the open balcony doors, and when you ask him about if Rafayel simply laughs it off, the sound addicting enough that soon you’re laughing too.

But on late nights after sex you hear him humming again, something absentminded and indulgent, like the sound exists only for his own amusement. And for yours. 

Oh, but when Rafayel sings, it’s something else entirely. It’s after an opera the first time you heard it, and any memory of the show prior is dissolved into a monotonous drivel at the music Rafayel makes. You swear you felt it in your ribs, melody settling beneath your skin, an ancient song that spoke to your soul in ways that left you dizzy and aching and yearning for something you couldn’t name. 

It left you hungry.

And still, Rafayel’s paintings hurt the most.

Each one nearly brought to life with each brushstroke, enough that you swear you can hear the crash of waves or the sharp sting of sea-salt, each one that brings a deep, unknowable sorrow and guilt to your core. Each one hurts to look at a little more than the last. 

There’s one painting in particular that hangs in his studio, larger than the rest. A towering, floor-to-ceiling masterpiece of muted blues and violent reds, brushstrokes slashing across the canvas with all the power of a storm at sea.

At first, you think it’s simply a shipwreck.

Then you’re lured in closer.

Bodies tangled in the waves, limbs limp and reaching. Some still clutching weapons, some are already swallowed by the dark. But every single figure seems perfectly content, relaxed, embracing death as they are lulled—just like you just like you—to the sirens below.

They are not the innocent beauties of fairy tales. They are terrible, glorious, vicious beings. Something between human and god, their bodies half-submerged, lips parted in a song you cannot hear but can still feel, something clawing at your heart, begging you to listen. Begging you to come closer. 

And Rafayel is among them.

It takes you a moment to recognize him, but once you do, you cannot unsee it. The slant of his jaw, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, his lips curled not in hunger, not in rage, but in something unreadable. Something almost mournful.

"Do you like it, cutie?" His voice startles you.

You turn, pulse jumping, but Rafayel’s only watching you with that same lopsided smile, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looks like part of a masterpiece himself, bare shoulders kissed by the low light, the soft glow catching on his collarbones, his throat, his hands. 

"They were hunted." Not a question.

A laugh. Short, humorless. "Of course they were, don’t you know Lemurians cry pearls?"

Your fingers tighten at your sides, but nothing you could think of saying seemed appropriate. After all, what did you possibly have to offer a mourning god? 

You look back at the painting. "And worshipped?"

Rafayel’s gaze lingers on the canvas for a long moment before sliding back to you, eyes failing to reflect the light of the sun as he tucks himself into your embrace, pulling you close. You swallow hard, body naturally yielding to relax into his embrace. You’re not prey, and yet, something in you screams at you to run.

"Is there a difference?"

You don’t answer. 

You think of the way he moves, the way he sings, the way your breath catches every time he looks at you, the way you could drown in the depths of his eyes, the cloudless blue like the ocean at dawn, stained with a red more vibrant than blood. Like a shipwreck. Like a massacre. 

���Would you worship me, cutie?” Rafayel purrs against the shell of your ear, nipping the tender flesh. Your knees buckle, and you’re already kneeling before him, looking up at those same eyes as he smiles at your answer. 

You already do.

You’ve been noticing gaps in your memory.

Not big ones. Nothing you can really say for certain, just little things, things you used to chalk up to your goldfish memory. Forgetting why you stood up. Losing track of time mid-conversation. Finding yourself already doing something before you even register why.

And it always—always—happens when Rafayel is speaking to you.

It’s never forceful. Never obvious. But there’s always a soft hum in his voice, a subtle pull in the melody beneath his words.

You don’t even remember when he began doing it, and that might be what frightens you most. 

You’ve always been weak for Rafayel, giving in as soon as he pouts and complains about how he might die of neglect, how he just needs you so badly, and how, oh, won’t you do this for him? There’s no command. No sharp pull at your mind, no unnatural force prying into your thoughts. Just his voice, smooth and honeyed, curling around your resolve like the tide creeping onto the shore. Gentle. Patient. And before you even notice, you're waist-deep, sinking into something you can’t quite name.

"Let’s go to the beach," Rafayel suggests, fingers lazily tracing patterns against your thigh.

You frown down at him, in the midst of filling out a hunter’s report when he snatches your computer away, replacing it with his own head plopping down in your lap. 

You glance at the clock, it’s already six pm. Late, not to mention the drive is an hour away. And you have a mission early in the morning.

"I can’t," you say.

He hums, thoughtful. "Mm. No, of course not." He turns his head, pulling your sleep shirt up just enough to kiss your stomach, lips cool against your skin, grazing your hip as he speaks. "But," a pause. A slow, indulgent breath. "Wouldn’t it be nice? Just us. Moonlight on the waves. I could take you out past the shallows, show you things no other human has ever seen."

You close your eyes. You can picture it too easily. The salt in the air, the sound of the tide pulling you both forward. His hands on you, weightless in the water, his voice a hum against your throat. A melody entering your brain. 

"It’s a Tuesday," you murmur, weaker now.

Rafayel begins sitting up, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "So what?" Another to your jaw, "Work is so boring, you don’t need it anymore. Not when you’re with me." You feel him smile, sucking a mark right against your pulse. "It’ll be worth it, promise."

You should say no.

You should.

You should shut out the idea of indulging him, of the welcoming feel of sand beneath your toes and the gentle curl of the tide. And how nice the fading sunlight feels on your skin. Because you’re already standing at the shoreline, waves licking at your ankles, the city far, far behind you. Rafayel’s fingers laced with yours, his smile easy, teasing as he pulls you forward. 

You don’t remember driving here.

Your pulse stutters. "Rafayel."

He turns to you, eyes dark, unreadable, his mouth curving into a wide smile, a sweet gummy one that has too many teeth. Rows upon rows, like a shark’s, gone by the time you blink. "Yes, my muse?"

You swallow hard. The words tangle on your tongue, and you forget, just for a moment, why you were about to say them.

But the worst is when he begs.

Because it doesn’t feel unnatural, it doesn’t feel wrong.

Because it feels good.

You don’t realize how much you’re giving him until your body won't stop trembling, until you’re wrecked and obedient, until he’s cooing praise against your skin like you’re something precious. 

“Can’t–” you sob, barely getting the word out. “Can’t cum again. Please, Raf, Raf, please don’t.”

Your hands scramble for his head, still buried between your thighs, tugging violently against those sweat-slick strands of hair as you all but scream as he whines into your cunt in protest.

You’ve lost track of how many times he’s made you come, lost track of how long you’ve been beneath him, beneath his touch, beneath the spell of his voice. Time means nothing, just a rhythm of sensation and need.

All that you can feel is the hot layer of sweat making the sheets stick to the sharp arch in your back, the painful overstimulation of your clit as Rafayel moves to suckle against it once more, lapping greedily as you kick and push at his shoulders with a cry. You can’t take it, not again, not when you’re already raw and aching and falling apart.

"Just one more time, cutie," he begs, relenting just long enough to kiss your marked-up thigh. "Please? Look s’cute like this, taste even sweeter."

Rafayel’s pale skin glows faintly where his lips brush yours, a ripple of bioluminescence that pulses in time with your heartbeat. The dull blue light blooming along his veins, casting soft, eerie shadows across the sheets, a reminder of the alien beauty woven into his flesh and blood.

You’re sobbing, shaking your head as the entire room spins around you even without the extra stimulation. But Rafayel simply unlaces your poor trembling hands from his hair, unfurling your fists and kissing your palm before intertwining your fingers together, pinning them to the bed as he leans in closer. His hands are cold, an icy restraint to your feverish skin, and you shiver, goosebumps prickling along your arms.

"Last time, promise."

You don’t believe him. You shouldn’t.

But Rafayel’s voice is addictive, liquid gold, sinking into your skin, forcing you to relax against him just enough for his mouth to reacquaint itself with your swollen clit, immediately making you scream again as your hips mindlessly buck, writhing to get away, to find mercy from his touch as you fight to hold onto the last scraps of your fraying resolve.

“Don’t.” His voice is a purr, a low warning against your flesh as his hand tightens, pressing your wrists together, bruising. “Don’t run from me. Don’t make me chase you.”

Your body stills, responding to his command before you can even process what he's said. Surrendering as he hooks your ankles around his neck, forcing you up onto your shoulders as his tongue delves back into your cunt, curling inside you, savoring every spasm, every quiver. It’s a slow, indulgent kiss, his tongue is colder than his lips, drooling and messy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge for the nth time. 

"You’d never leave me right?" His voice once again sings like a promise against your skin. "You can’t. You wouldn’t, she’s too sweet for that—" His nose grinds against your clit and you moan, seizing. "Always so needy, always taking me so well. Practically made to worship me."

You're babbling nonsense now, incoherent. Rafayel coos, kissing you through it, one hand never letting go of yours as the other greedily gropes up the plush of your ass, your breasts, and he watches with rapt fascination as you arch for him. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, and wonders absentmindedly how it is you humans produce milk. How he could get you to do that for him.

A deep trill vibrates through him at the thought, more felt than heard, a sound that curls around your ribs and settles there. 

“You know that you’re mine, don’t you?” he breathes, voice dipping lower, “Mine. Made for me. Nothing else in this world could satisfy you like I do. You’ll never need another god.”

Rafayel’s words slip into you, twisting through your mind, settling like truth in your core. And just like that you shudder, body tensing, and you’re cumming again, hard.

Squirting across Rafayel’s awaiting mouth and jaw as you scream his name like a prayer, cum dripping down his heaving chest. Rafayel moans, lapping at the mess, and you feel his devotion in the way his entire body trembles as he consumes you, as he claims you, his offering, his sacrifice. His beloved bride.

His fingers subconsciously trace your empty ring finger. Worshiping it, memorizing it.

You don’t even realize you’re still nodding as his fingers loosen their grip on your thighs, finally setting you back down on the bed as a pleased little sound spills from his lips. His tongue drags up your limp body, lazy and lingering, kissing every inch of you, bringing your hand up to kiss your ring finger as well.

Nuzzling his face between your breasts, Rafayel looks up at you, eyes glowing, too bright, too colorful, too gorgeously inhuman.

When sensation finally returns to your legs, the haze of pleasure fading and your breath evening out, you’re revolted by the feeling of something releasing its hold on your mind. Shuddering, you press a hand to your temple, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of something slipping out of your head.

Rafayel watches you, tilting his head, his fingers brushing lightly down your arm as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Grabbing your chin, he swallows any questions you might have asked, kissing you with the same reverence he did your clit and every inch of your body before, the taste of you still on his tongue. When he pulls away, his expression is soft, almost tender, even as his hand curls back around your ankle, a possessive shackle.

“You’ll never need another god,” he repeats, the words sinking into your bones, echoing in your mind. His fingers tighten, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because you’re mine.”

And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to breathe without him.

You suppose it should scare you, knowing Rafayel isn’t human. Even if you have yet to understand what a Lemurian really is or wants, what Rafayel’s true form really looks like, what or who truly resides in him. 

You suppose it should scare you that despite not knowing any of this, you listen to his every whim regardless. 

The ocean is calm tonight, with the full moon hanging directly overhead and her silver providing the only light over rolling waves. You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, weightless in the gentle pull of the tide, safe knowing Rafayel couldn’t be far away. He never is. 

At least, you can only assume that’s still the case. Since the ocean itself is dark enough that it blends in with the horizon, dark enough that you wouldn’t be able to see your own toes should you stop floating, the only sounds are the gentle crashing of waves on the distant shore. 

Rafayel was untraceable in the water, his powerful twenty-foot-something Lemurian form outpacing yours as soon as he hit the water, cutting through the black waves with a grace that should be impossible for a creature of that size. That was nearly an hour ago, and only an occasional singing that seemed to both surround you and come from deep within the ocean served as reminders that your lover was never far away.

There it is again, that distant sorrowful song, and you try and hum along, not realizing how far from shore you’ve drifted. 

Something brushes your ankle.

Jolting upright, you spit out a bit of salt water from your scare, scanning the horizon as you tread water. Rafayel is nowhere in sight.

Of course you don't even realize he's been circling you, tail cutting above the waves before twisting around your kicking legs. Laughter echoes into the night, sweet and addicting, enough to have your body relax involuntarily into the cold rock of the waves. Enough to send every other sea creature swimming away in terror.

Then, warmth. Hands, familiar and steady, slide up your bare ribs. There wasn’t even so much as a splash as Rafayel swims closer, arms pulling you in tight, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck as you feel the entire length of his tail tighten like a coil around your body. He could drown you before you'd even remember to scream.

Rafayel kisses up your neck, savoring the taste of sea salt, arousal, and fear against the broad, cold length of his tongue. It feels rougher than usual. 

“Need you, cutie.” A trill, something deep and low, vibrating in his chest as his entire body tightens its grip around you. Grinding up against you. “Need you s’bad.”

His voice is a low, syrupy murmur, words dripping into your ear with the same fluid grace as his body winding around yours. You shudder, pulse thrumming as the coil of his tail tightens, the powerful muscle shifting against your skin, keeping you perfectly in place. The realization should terrify you. Perhaps it should terrify you more that it doesn’t. 

But Rafayel’s still nipping at the delicate skin of your neck and jaw as that soft, mournful hum resonates from his chest. The sound vibrates through your bones, familiar and soothing, seeping into your mind as easily as seawater through the crevices of a sinking ship.

You shiver, the sensation of his touch and the water deliciously cold against the heat pooling in your belly.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, turning you so you straddle only a fraction of his enormous tail, clinging to his shoulders and the scales that now rest there. “Hate that you can’t swim with me, can’t see my home.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, the same playful lightness you’ve heard a thousand times. But beneath it lies a deep, aching hunger that has his clawed fingers pressing into your ribs, hard enough to draw blood.

“I-It’s not exactly possible,” you stammer, voice shaking, breathless, the world narrowing to the feel of his enormous body wrapped around yours, the prodding of something slimy and thick between your legs, the soft vibration of his hum still echoing inside your head. “I can’t breathe underwater like you, Rafayel.”

He pouts at that, tail flexing, shifting, and you feel two other appendages begin to caress your thighs, gently snaking around them. Not that you could see what exactly they were, not with how impossibly dark the ocean is, left completely to his mercy. 

“Poor little human,” Rafayel coos, feigning sympathy as his hands begin to wander, cupping and squeezing roughly at your breasts. A constant fascination he excuses for the fact that fish don’t produce milk and thus have no need for such… interesting appendages. “Your silly human body isn’t much fun. Too fragile. I can fix that.”

His words send a chill through you, something prickling at your spine—but then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs as his fingers tangle in your hair. His inhumanly long tongue invades your mouth, rough and tasting of salt and sea, and you melt, hands clawing into his shoulders as he swallows your moan, fucking his tongue down your throat. 

His tail shifts again, something sharp nicking your inner thigh as you gasp into the kiss, only allowing Rafayel to press in closer, deeper, grinding against your core.

Your body reacts on instinct, earning another low trill, hips rolling to meet the pressure, Rafayel’s hands still busy pleasuring your chest as something else forces your legs wider, guiding his cock to grind against you once, twice, fighting the tense ring of muscle as you quiver. 

“Please, cutie. Please let me in, my sweet darling. Please, please,” he’s rambling, begging so sweetly into your lips as you feel the jagged cut of his teeth trace down your neck, collarbone, grazing your nipple, licking up the drops of blood as your flesh splits as easily as rotten fruit on the edge of a knife. “So good to me. Always so good to me.”

You barely recognize the moan that leaves your throat—something needy, desperate. And at that sound Rafayel shudders, something else writhing against your pussy as it suddenly pushes in, thrusting and sucking gently at your entrance before following a rhythm he knows will make you fall apart. 

“Rafayel, wait, cold. It’s cold—” 

“Shh, you’ll warm it up.”

You can only moan in response, clinging onto Rafayel like a lifeline as the ocean surges around the both of you, your limbs trembling and useless as one of Rafayel’s hands goes to circle your clit, matching the tempo of his thrusts as you come undone with a silent scream.

“Say it again for me,” he whispers, reverence dripping from every syllable. His eyes—too blue, too bright—burn into yours, possessive, adoring, hungry. And when he looks at you like that, how could you ever refuse? “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart stutters. There’s a pull, something deep and heavy, sinking into your chest. The hum returns, curling around your thoughts, coaxing you to say the words, to give him what he wants. What you both want.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “Yours.”

Rafayel’s pupils narrow into slits, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry and savage. His tail tightens, grinding against you with purpose now, every slow roll of his hips sending another shockwave of pleasure through you, something else beginning to press up against you as well as the first intrusion begins to retreat from your poor overstimulated pussy. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, teeth scraping against your pulse, marking delicate skin of your throat. Something under the water coils tighter, pulling you closer, keeping you where you belong.

No. 

“Yes.”

His laughter is the last thing you hear, soft and sweet, washing away every other thought before the roar of the ocean swallows you whole.

The cold is instant, biting, sinking into your bones as the saltwater tears into your nose and mouth. Panic claws up your throat as your chest seizes, lungs heaving uselessly, instinctively, drawing in nothing but seawater.

Instinct demands you thrash, but Rafayel is there, hugging around you like a devoted lover, like a predator with his kill. He drags you down deeper, enraptured, scales scraping against your skin as his body locks you against him, pressing you against the seafloor as the two of you hit the bottom, soft sand floating under your back. 

How easy would it be, to leave you full of his brood and writhing, before dragging you to some island far, far away. 

He’s dazed at the thought, still inside you, still thrusting, still playing with your body as if you aren’t suffocating, as if the way you kick and claw at his back, nails tearing into flesh and fins, is only a sign of pleasure. You feel him shudder, and it isn’t just from the tight, helpless way you squeeze around him.

It’s your eyes that Rafayel can’t seem to look away from. They’re wide, wild, locked on his face with desperate, pleading terror. Adoration. Fear. Love.

So human, so fragile, and all you can focus on is him, the rest of the ocean blurring into a black abyss.

Rafayel adores it, finally being the epicenter of your attention. 

A low, pleased rumble vibrates through his chest, pupils blown wide, swallowing the blue of his eyes until they’re black and endless, reflecting your horrified face right back at you.

All the screaming has left you dizzy, and Rafayel moans, pushing deeper, grinding his enormous tail against your overstimulated clit as your throat convulses around a silent moan as you watch the bubbles leave your throat. 

Smiling, Rafayel’s lips curl, exposing sharp, jagged teeth, feeling each shudder, each pitiful, heaving spasm as your lungs beg for oxygen. He wonders how they must feel, those delicate sacks of air tightening, twisting inside you.

Pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart, Rafayel feels the stuttering beat as it races then begins to falter, slowing to a delicate pulse under his touch. 

He could watch you like this forever.

Your nails rake down his arms, leaving raw, bloody scratches as the world begins to go dark. He shudders, his cock twitching inside you at the sting, the way you keep fighting even as your movements grow sluggish, your limbs growing heavy. Your chest heaves one last time, and then your eyes leave Rafayel’s, rolling back as your lips part in a silent prayer. 

No. No, don't look away from him.

It makes Rafayel frown, wanting your gaze focused on him alone, wanting your attention back. He wants it forever. His tail coils, possessive, hugging you tight with all the devotion of a human lover as he finally, finally leans in, pressing his mouth to yours.

His hands come down to caress your jaw, fangs nicking your lips as he forces them apart, kissing air back into your lungs. 

And you breathe in again, sobbing into the kiss, body trembling, clinging to Rafayel like he’s your lifeline. You do what he knew you would. You kiss him back. Desperate, dazed, pushing closer as though you don't realize there's no where else you could go, the deep, endless dark of the ocean yawning hungrily above you both. 

He's close, so close now. Body nearly aglow with that eerie, deep-sea light, casting shadows onto your body as you welcome him even now, desperate for warmth, for safety, for him.

“Mine,” Rafayel sings against your lips in a language you cannot understand. Savoring the way you still arch up to kiss him again and again, desperate for his air and his touch despite it all. Despite knowing what he is. Despite knowing what he wants. “My mate.”

When he finally cums he feels it breach your womb, he feels you swell with it, feels it stick with how eagerly your body welcomes him, his perfect little human.

And for the first time, you truly wonder if you were meant to survive loving something like him.

[havenhyunjin]

make up artist — hyunjin

You were doing your best to keep things professional, for the sake of your employment status but mostly because Hyunjin made you beyond nervous. He was a menace, licking his lips as he stared at you, gracing his fingertips against yours on so-called accidents, complimenting you and then your work in that order every time, all while being drop dead gorgeous. word count: 2.6k

warnings: mature, explicit sexual content ahead. 18+ only please! makeup artist afab reader, consensual but forbidden workplace relationship; unprotected consensual sex (be responsible); fingering, dirty talk, creampie.

a/n: this is the consequence of 17 minutes of watching hyunjin get his makeup done. sorry not sorry lol <3

————————————————————————

Painting on a beautiful face was a different form of art than those typically recognized. Everyone could commend an artist for a mural, a sculpture, a song, a dance, but not many would commend a makeup artist in the same way. Today, while you wouldn’t deny every craft had its degree of difficulty, you demanded recognition for the challenges of your own work.

You’d like to see every artist do their job correctly while staring into the eyes of the most beautiful work of art you’d ever seen in your life. At this point, you should be used to doing Hyunjin’s makeup, but it has only progressively gotten worse.

At first you believed that he really was just attentive and present when someone did his makeup, engaging in conversations and piercing his eyes into them. It started being apparent that it wasn’t the case when you were doing someone else’s makeup when he was in the room and he still wouldn’t stop staring at you. And it was plain obvious when he specifically requested you to be his makeup artist on Stray Kids’ world tour.

You were doing your best to keep things professional, for the sake of your employment status but mostly because Hyunjin made you beyond nervous. He was a menace, licking his lips as he stared at you, gracing his fingertips against yours on so-called accidents, complimenting you and then your work in that order every time, all while being drop dead gorgeous.

You were addicted to the game only he was playing, because you didn’t think you could reciprocate without turning incoherent or embarrassing yourself. But Hyunjin knew what kind of effect he had on you, and he was entertained by it.

The game was just beginning, as he opened his hotel room for you with the entire makeup kit.

“Hi, my favorite artist,” Hyunjin smirked and immediately went to grab your bags from your hands. You just blushed and walked inside thanking him between your breath, and leading towards the standard hotel desk and chair for you to get to work on him.

Doing his makeup in his hotel room had never happened before, but an individual morning schedule brought you here at 7am. You knew it was a bad idea, and your heart was beating out of your chest already, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exciting at the same time.

You diligently set your makeup station as Hyunjin sat down and began making small talk that you half heartedly were replying to.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, with a wicked smile that told you he knew exactly what was wrong.

You chuckled it off, and simply began applying moisturizer to his face, nearly wincing at how electrifying touching his skin was every time.

He had his game face on immediately, staring daggers into your eyes. Slowly but surely, as you started pressing his foundation into his face, he started staring at other parts of you.

It was your lips first, and you couldn’t help but bite on them, even if it made things worse. At some point, Hyunjin’s small talk subsided and he started examining your hair. You didn’t really have time to do it in the morning, loose wavy hair falling over your shoulders, and he tugged on a little strand and curled his fingers around it. He constantly brushed his fingers over your collarbone, just torturing you with his games.

Concealer and eyeshadow went on him on pure muscle memory, attempting to ignore the way his eyes were now staring at your entire body frame up and down. The stakes of the game got higher as Hyunjin slowly moved his hands to your waist, which you made no effort to avoid or take off of you.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with your heavy breathing as both of his hands rested ever so slightly under your shirt right at your hips.

“You are so pretty, have I ever told you that?” he said, the fakest innocent doe eyes you’d ever seen looking up at you as you added blush on his cheekbones.

“You call me pretty girl all the time,” you laughed softly, almost rolling your eyes.

“Because you are,” he motioned you closed with his hands, your face nearing his even more, making your job grabbing setting powder harder.

“Hyune, let me finish,” you whispered, stammering over your words and stretching to reach for the powder puff, but he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he traced circles on your waist touching the skin directly and stood up from the chair, towering over you.

You should want him to stop, you should get away immediately, and you should not want him as badly as you do. But fighting the way your body was yearning for him for months now was proving more, and more impossible.

You didn’t reply, but you set your hands on his arms tentatively, unsure of everything but the fact that you wanted him close.

He smiled down at you and tucked your hair behind your with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “So pretty,” he whispered, as he graced your cheek with his knuckles, making you blush furiously.

“Let me kiss you, pretty girl,” he pleaded with his thumb ghosting over your lip. You were mute, not out of hesitation but disbelief that this was actually happening, but you leaned into him slowly.

Hyunjin understood your consent and closed the space between you two, enveloping you into a mix of a sweet and lustful kiss. As he let your hand go, both of his hands set on your waist once again, gripping it tighter and pressing his body against yours, molding himself into you and your lips.

Your own hands flew to the nape of his neck and just allowed him to take the lead for you, finally letting go and giving in to your true desires.

He felt how you relaxed in his arms, and smiled into the kiss. “So sweet, pretty girl,” he hummed into your mouth, making you smile back at him.

The kiss got deeper, rougher, and you were drunk off the way Hyunjin was guiding you into it all. As he walked you two to the bed in the middle of the room, and sat you down on his lap to straddle him on the edge of the bed, you were the one to start the kiss once again.

“Do you want this, pretty?” he pulled away to ask, pressing his forehead against you. As you hummed in response and tried to kiss him again, he stopped you. “I need words,” Hyunjin insisted, and you reflexively said yes out loud. He was amused at your excitement, and his own, really. You were surprised at how pliant and willing you were to something so forbidden, but bending the rules proved to be exhilarating.

Although he wanted to take his sweet time with you, he was painfully aware of time constraints before he had a photoshoot to attend. He knew he could have more time later, and he laid you down next to him, looking at you for approval to pull the zipper of your jeans down. “Please,” you mumbled back, crazy with the stimulation on your neck through his love bites.

His hand made his way over your cunt over your already soaked panties, tracing a line over your slit as he kissed you deeply. You were moaning nearly uncontrollably, having a semblance of shame at how desperate you were for Hyunjin before anything truly happened.

He pulled your panties aside and rubbed his middle finger over your leaking hole, up to your clit. It had you squirming and whining, but not once did he stop kissing your mouth like a man starved.

As a first finger slid inside of you, you gasped and gripped Hyunjin’s shirt, and he was loving every second of your reaction to his moves.

“Even your little sounds are pretty,” he said as he began tracing kisses into your neck once again.

Soon enough, a second finger was inside of you, scissoring them into you and increasing the pace.

“You’re taking it so nicely,” he continued to praise and all you could do still was whimper his name like music to his ears. It was then that you decided to move your hands down to his crotch. When you touched him over his own sweatpants, you realized how hard he was and you were relishing on it.

Hyunjin groaned as you touched him, and grinded himself in your hand as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace.

“Fuck, Hyune,” you cried into his neck, trying to still pleasure him with your hand as your own pleasure got a little bit too much.

At that, he positioned himself over you, spreading your legs to fit between them as he pulled his sweatpants down enough to free his leaking red cock. Hyunjin wanted you so badly it hurt, and he needed you right then and there. He’d wanted this ever since he laid his eyes on you, and as you were under him in his bed half naked and willing to take him, he knew he needed to make it worth your while.

“You still want this, pretty girl?”

“I want you so, so bad, Hyune,” you whined in an intoxicatingly sweet voice to him, holding his face in your hands as he began to press his cock over your cunt.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Hyunjin grinned as he kissed you over and over again.

“Baby please,” you pleaded against his lips and it made him completely give in to you. He would give you anything at this point, beginning with pushing into you slowly.

As you adjusted to him, sighing in relief, he started to moan your name making you feel heaven.

Every single feeling was heightened, from the toe curling sting of him inside of you, to how dirty it was to fuck someone you were strictly forbidden from even looking at. It only worked to excite you, not deter you in any way. How could you not feel wanted and desired, if Hyunjin was willing to risk so much just for a single night with you?

Hyunjin had his eyes closed, overwhelmed at the tight, warm feeling around him, but also drunk off the feeling of finally getting the girl. He never thought it would happen this way, but finally taking you after months of picturing it every night as he pleasured himself was every bit as wonderful as he thought it would be and then some more.

He bottomed inside of you, groaning in your ear with his forearms holding his weight over you.

You moved to take his shirt off, every part of you burning with more desire for more skin. As he helped tug his shirt off, he pulled yours down, enough to have your breasts out for him to touch.

You couldn’t believe how vocal you were being, considering this wasn’t supposed to happen and should be secretive, but every single thing that Hyunjin did with your body brought out a primal reaction from you.

He thrusted into you fast and hard, satisfying the desperate need both of you felt to be close. It was raw and rough, but you both clearly liked it just that way. He fucked you like he never would touch you again, timing his hard thrusts consistently as he watched your tits bounce below him.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty. So tight,” he moaned, hushing your desperate, incoherent moans. “You can do it, baby, you can take it,” he demanded as he gripped your waist to fuck you impossibly harder with your legs spread wide open for him; a perfect display of how willing you were for anything he wanted to do to your body.

“Do you feel how deep my cock is inside you, pretty?” he teased, a wicked grin in his face watching your reaction to every single brutal thrust, feeling himself close and closer to release just by staring at your face contorted in pleasure.

You only nodded, gripping the sheets below you and even harder as Hyunjin moved one hand to stimulate your clit with his thumb at a painstakingly slow pace contrasting his fucking.

“You look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, baby,” he kept sweet talking you, never relenting in his hip and hand moves. At that point, you felt your orgasm closing in on you, crying out at the stimulation of just the right spot.

Hyunjin noticed, and his fingers on your clit only worked faster to make you cum first. His dirty talk along with his face would’ve been enough anyway.

“Give it to me, baby. Cum all over my cock, milk it with that tight, pretty pussy,” he leaned down to catch your mouth on a wet, sloppy kiss, still not once relenting on the intensity of his fucking.

Soon enough, you were seeing stars behind your eyes, wrapping your legs around Hyunjin’s waist and scratching his back in the process. The orgasm was the most intense you’d ever had, and it didn’t subside as he fucked you harder through it to reach his own.

With your eyes rolled back, mouth wide open, tits out for him, hair disheveled and your pussy spasming around him, Hyunjin reached pure ecstasy. He painted ropes inside you, and while panting in between messy kisses all over your face, you suddenly became aware of the time.

Gasping, and trying to pull away, Hyunjin shushed you immediately.

“It’s fine, pretty girl. You only have to do my lipstick now,” he smiled down at you, trying to set your hair straight, and relishing in the feeling of being inside you a couple seconds longer.

“Hyune, you have to go,” you gushed, fixing your bra and shirt back on, the adrenaline of the forbidden rising back up.

Hyunjin pouted, but agreed as he pulled out and fixed his sweatpants. You scrambled up, but he didn’t let you until he found your undergarments and worked gently to put them on you again, and you found it sweet until you noticed his evil plan.

He pumped his cum back inside your cunt with his fingers, making you shriek at the overstimulation, before he slid your panties up. Pressing one mischievous kiss to your thigh, he also pushed your jeans on and promised himself he’d be back to taste you and undo you under him once again.

The realization was hitting harder and harder for you, blushing furiously as you ran to your makeup kit to try to fix whatever mess you made yourself on Hyunjin’s face.

Grabbing the setting powder and working on record time, Hyunjin kept praising you and making your job the worst it’s ever been. It didn’t help that you knew what he looked like fucking you now.

“You’re even prettier all fucked out, baby,” he kept teasing, feeling you up and biting his lips, because truly who could gave enough of you?

“Hyune, please focus,” you pleaded mortified, grabbing the lip tint and gloss from your stand and clumsily dropping one of them in the process.

He beat you to picking it up, and handed it to you gently, smiling.

“I really liked it, pretty girl. Did you like it?” he let you go to let you apply the rose lip stain on his lips diligently, albeit almost shaking.

“You know I did…” you reassured him, as if your moaning or red face wasn’t enough proof.

“Let’s do it again, pretty?” he asked, stealing a kiss from you before you began to apply gloss.

Flustered and feeling hot once again, you just cursed him between your teeth but smiled, which told him everything he needed to know.

You definitely needed a raise, and you demanded recognition for your hard work as an artist. No one else would’ve pulled it off like you did, and Hyunjin wanted no one else either way.

[casedeviant]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓋰 ╭ 18+ ╮ top male reader & bottom transmasc satoru gojo ⓘ solo masturbation . phone sex . sex toys . squirting . multiple orgasms . voice kink . daddy kink . talking him through it but you're at work . twt link . 1.7k wc

i did not plan for this to be so long lol but horny 3am thoughts i guess. not proof-read. love the thought of gojo being super giggly and a little airy when he's horny. grown ass man btw. anyways, inspired by this suggestive video i saw on twt. enjoy.

what are you going to do when your boyfriend satoru randomly sends you a video of him grinding his clit up and into your bedsheets, just half an hour after you left the apartment to go to work?

you're in the office, impossibly hard now, wracking over all the ways you could make use of his holes instead of all the ways you should be writing paperwork instead; it didn't help either, that all of this is left up to your imagination at eight o'clock in the morning.

the video wasn't even that explicit to begin with. but he always knew how to be a sleazy little thing at the most inappropriate of times, getting under your skin at any chance he thought was amusing and necessary.

before you proceed to play the short and scandalous video, you slip in your airpods from their case that was sheltering against the pockets of your slacks, turning the volume down to a moderate level.

it's not like it mattered when you had both earbuds in, but with how easily they can block out the noises around you, you felt like you needed to experience this way before you lost your mind completely.

after you hover over the play button, your thumb comes down on the illuminated screen, sizing the video into full screen that has you tilting it horizontally.

your cock instantly responds at the sight behind your pants, forcing you to hunch over yourself against your office desk. one of your hands come up to your chin in riveted focus, as the other holds the end of your phone, lightly letting it sit against the mahogany wood.

"daddy- i miss you... i woke up from a wet dream where you were violating my sweet, little body. i can't stop thinkin' about you and your big, stupid, fat cock."

your brows crinkle and you let out a sigh, running a palm down your face, ever so slowly, at that nickname. it was no use trying to rub away the frustration as clear as day on your countenance, when the only frustration was actually sitting in your pants and not displayed on your face instead.

satoru was tickling your patience.

"f-feels... good... ngh" your eyes carefully watch him guide his lower half up and into the crinkled duvet. one of his hands rested on the outside, as his hips bucked up, adding pressing. the line of muscles that sat against his lower stomach and navel flattened and then bulked as he continued the rocking motion, slips and stutters ensuing.

i know, my sweet boy, would be what you'd say to him if you were there with him in that moment, but instead, you reply with a "come in", as your secretary interrupts your riveting watch time with a hefty knock on the door.

"but it's never as good as what your warm cock feels like inside of me."

a cough suddenly escapes your lips, and she looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. you then deadpan at her, adjusting your tie.

"what is it?"

"we have a meeting in five?"

shit, you forgot about that.

"fine, whatever. i'll be out there in a second. so give me a bit of time to prepare these papers."

she pushes up the spectacles on the bridge of her nose suspiciously as you placed your phone screen down against the table, the light catching against her glass frames. she nods at you with a sigh, the stern look on her face prior, washing away. she bows politely before excusing herself from the room.

as she closes the door behind her, you immediately turn your phone over to look at the video again.

and that's when you thought it couldn't get any better than it sounded listening to your boyfriends moans over important business meetings.

the duvet has migrated further down his thighs now, just resting above his knees. and you watch him furiously rub away at his clit with two fingers in a circular pattern.

"fuck, satoru..." you breathe out from underneath your breath as he continues to pleasure himself in the video.

"ah! ah! right there~ oh my god, [name]! s' good! ahh....ahhh...p-please" the whine at the end of his string of pleasurable moans caught you off guard with how vulnerable they sounded.

how long ago was this video sent? fuck it, i'm calling him.

when you exit out the video before it finishes, you click on the phone icon that dials up his number.

"hmm, baby? what are you doing calling me up this early in the morning?"

cheeky bastard.

"strip."

there's a moment of silence, and you know exactly what type of facial expression the man is making – that stupid little smile, index nail caught between his front teeth. looking real innocent for someone who's fucking guilty of turning you on so early in the morning.

"'nd how do you know i'm not already naked?"

"'satoru. do as you're told."

"ah......"

"you don't want to disappoint daddy just before an important meeting, do you?"

"..."

you hear him begin to take his clothes off behind the phone, ruffling noises filling your ears.

"there, are you happy now?"

"not quite. put the phone down, onto the vanity for me."

with how much his voice echoed from before, you knew he was in the ensuite bathroom. probably preparing to shower after just getting himself off. stupid mutt.

"okayyyyy... 'nd then what?" he asks in a spunky voice. a devious smirk graces your lips.

"then, i want you to put the glass holder for our toothbrushes, over the speaker."

at this point, satoru isn't quite sure what you are up to. but after more moving noises, he replies back to you.

"i did it... is this really mea-"

"now, i want you to go into the bottom drawer, where you will find something very, very special."

after you interrupt him, he bends over to inspect it. as surmised, inside, there was a pink vibrating dildo you bought just for him.

"i-"

his voice shakes, not from embarrassment, but out of pure joy that you bought him something "so cute!".

"good boy, 'toru."

satoru swallows thickly, anticipating your next instructions carefully, now understanding what you wanted him to do.

"are you still wet from earlier?"

"mhm"

"use your words, boy."

"y-yes... i'm still- wet, daddy."

"good. i want you to attach that dildo to the side of the sink for me, just below your phone. i need to hear how properly soaked you are."

you hear the suction cup underneath the dildo seize the side of the vanity, giving your go-to to speak.

satoru is already slightly bent over, rubbing his folds over the toy. you can hear it as clear as day, the slippery sounds reverberating in your skull.

as you stand to proceed to leave, you slip your phone in your pocket, deciding to go with one earbud so it wasn't as noticeabley suspicious. you left the odd one on your desk as you left your office, heading towards the meeting room.

"d-daddy? are you there?"

"just a second, my love."

you step into the vacant elevator that took you to the floor with the meeting room.

"are you still there, my love?"

"mhmm... how do i- turn it on? i need this thing inside of me, right now!"

you chuckle before pressing the earbud into your ear to hear him better.

"on the side. but do it carefully, i want to hear you take it slowly, imagining its me fucking you instead."

satoru whines at that notion, already picturing the angle your cock naturally tilted at. he then pressed the pink, now vibrating, silicone head against his dripping entrance, knees buckling when it pushes in.

the squelch sound could be heard crystal clearly amongst his whines, and it makes you wonder how the hell you're going to hide the half-boner in your pants.

as the elevator dings, informing you that you arrived at the correct floor, you step outside.

"i don't want to hear you stop or take a break at all during my meeting, got it, my dear?"

satoru nods his head furiously, as if you could see him... "yes, daddy. i under- ah! stand..."

the silver-haired man pushes his hips back, sheathing the entire dildo into his hole. his back arches, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between his legs as his knees bend together, holding him upright.

"welcome, [name]"

satoru hears on the other end of the phone, and he knew the meeting was about to begin. you nod nonchalantly, moving into the room with the rest of them.

"f-fuckkk. ah! oh god." satoru snivels, reaching his first climax as more drool exudes from his weeping cunt and onto the cold tiles below him. he fucks himself through it, his ass repeatedly slapping against the vanity's side. the echoes sends a shiver down your spine.

you inhale sharply, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat next to your secretary.

"the meeting has begun."

you nod when the gentleman the opposite side of you, announces.

"d-daddy. i need you so bad. FUCK! it feels like 'm gonna cum... again. holy shit- this thing slaps."

you roll your eyes at the way he breaks tone, thinking that you were directing it at the fellow in front of you. the man glares at you, before continuing to speak again.

you were thankful that you didn't need to speak much this meeting.

as time passed, and it ended, you hear satoru squirt on the other end of the phone, the suction cup that was holding the dildo to the sink, slipping off.

you hear him collapse to the ground, slapping his own pussy. heat instantly reaches your ears at that thought; slapping his cunt, that's a new dirty drink you'd like to try out for yourself.

i wonder what face he is making. you think to yourself.

"sir?" your secretary calls out to you, and you stand up from your seat, excusing yourself as the others packed up too. as the two of you make it back to your office in silence in the elevator, you quickly excuse her.

"'toru? baby, are you still with me?"

"..."

"satoru?"

"hehehehe"

"fucking hell..."

you let out a momentary sigh.

"you're going to regret sending me that video so early in the morning, when i get home from work today."

"oh yeah?"

you let out a hearty chuckle.

"you don't believe me?"

"i don't knowwww. maybe i don't." he lets out a small titter again, clearly fatigued from coming so much

"stop it. get a shower. your daddy will be home in..." you check your watch, sighing, realising, your day is just getting started.

"...soon."

[artemisiasmuse]

princess treatment | rafe x low maintenance gf

cw: fluff, mentions of emotionally abusive family dynamics, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex but no details)

you’d always been treated as some sort of third parent, a therapist, a friend but never what you were: a daughter

that all changed when you started dating rafe

on top of being mistreated by your family, you’d never had a bf who treated you right

the first time rafe brought you flowers you cried, he thought he’d done something wrong but you were so touched you couldn’t say anything as you hugged him tight

he made sure to bring you flowers often, making sure you never ran out. you remember finding a flower from your bouquet in his car, asking him why he had it. “when it wilts i know i gotta get you more.” you’d proceeded to make him pull over.

it was like he was dead set on making you fall even more in love when he said, “as fucking great as that was, i don’t do these things for sex baby, i don’t expect anything okay?” you told him you knew that, which you didn’t actually since all the guys you had been with before seemed to be like that, and proceeded to kiss him some more.

to him treating you like a princess came naturally, he was never good at expressing himself so buying you presents, taking care of you, doing things for you was just second nature

in the beginning he thought it was cute how appreciative you were but when you still got shocked from his actions after months he realized you had just never been treated how you deserve

and that pissess him off

he makes it a point to treat you like an absolute princess, not even letting you open a single door by yourself, you don’t even remember the last time you put your heels on by yourself because he was always crouching down to help you before you could think about it

“rafe if you spoil me so much ill get used to it.” you murmured as you watched your 6’2 gently place your heeled foot on his knee so he could buckle the shoe. his touch was always so gentle, as if he’d hurt you like this.

“that’s kinda the point angel,” he says it without hesitation, brows a bit furrowed as he looks for the best notch that won’t cause you discomfort. you think you might start crying again but you bite the inside of your cheek and kiss him when he stands up

rafe hates how your family treats you, but he holds his tongue because he knows you love them it doesn’t matter to him if your family hates them, he know he should seek their approval but he doesn’t think they deserve to dictate any part of your life

he’s holding back until your mom oversteps her bounds in front of him and he just has to step in, taking over whatever thing she told you to do even though he knew your mother was perfectly capable. he guises it as being a good future son-in-law

“it’s okay rafe-“ you say it without realizing, so used to taking the load off of others.

“you can ask me from now on if you need anything,” he looks pointedly at your mother with a smile you know is fake. you just brush it off and think rafe is just trying to make a good impression. you don’t know he doesn’t give a fuck what your parents think. he even starts hating your sibling.

your brother is older than you but never acts that way. when you mentioned an older brother he expected someone protective of you. he was met with someone doted on by your mother, irresponsible and immature and uncaring of his sister. it seemed like you were the older sibling.

you’d been living with your parents while you both dated, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with it until rafe gets you to move out to live with him. your parents are against it at first but with the help rafe has been they have little reason to refuse him.

when you do move out you realize how much better everything is. you’re not your mother’s caretaker, or your parent’s marriage counselor, or even your brother’s mom. you’re you. and you can finally breathe. rafe doesn’t expect anything from you and it slightly unnerves you, how could he take care of you without expecting anything in return?

he pays for everything, even if you push back at first, he replaces your card in your wallet with his going as far as hiding your card and he knows you have a job and that you can afford it yourself but he doesn’t see why you have to

you’d gotten your nails done and shown them to him and when he didn’t see a charge on his card he pouted for a whole day until you gave in and agreed to use it next time

but rafe knows you’re holding back, he can see that you’re spending frugally. he doesn’t want you to, in fact nothing would make him happier than seeing a dent taken out of his bank account because of his beautiful caring girlfriend

you remember your first date when he got offended that you’d offered to split the bill, he was even more shocked when you thanked him profusely after for paying

when you whine about him taking your card he finally has to speak up, “baby, what’s yours is mine right?” you nod without pause, you loved when rafe drove your car or used your skincare. it felt so intimate and domestic like you were a married couple, the thought bringing heat to your face. “right, so what’s mine is yours.” and you can’t really refute that.

one day when he’s drying your hair after your shower, you can’t help but ask, “why are you so nice to me rafey?”

“i love you, s’that simple”

“i love you too but no one’s ever been this nice to me.”

“no ones ever been as nice to me as you are either, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong right?” he always has a way of making you see his side so effortlessly you have to agree. you could never argue that rafe didn’t deserve the amount of love you gave him or more.

“yeah, thank you for taking care of me”

“‘you gonna thank me for the rest of our lives?” you just stare at him blankly and rafe watches the tears well up in your eyes. “hey don’t cry baby, you can thank me as many times as you want okay? just don’t go thinking you deserve any less than this.”

“i’m never letting you go.”

“i’m counting on it.”

on your anniversary, rafe buys you a car and even though you do thank him profusely and maybe cry a little it doesn’t turn your stomach with anxiety on how to thank him properly or that you don’t deserve it. instead you spend the night loving your boyfriend as much as he loves you. you realize rafe just has a different way of showing it.

a/n: instead of crashing out ab my family i wrote this :)

taglist: @ggraycelynn @clar2aa

[dafterdarling]

'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you // alexia putellas

alexia putellas x swimmer!reader (mlist)

warnings: mostly fluffly, the lightest of angsts (long distance relationship), swimming terms, google translated spanish

summary: there is a break in your busy schedule and you go surprise alexia

word count: 2942

a/n: thinking of making this a series of one-shots, lemme know if y'all want that

After a gruelling championship season and many meets that left you feeling more than accomplished, with five podium placements: Three of those being first places and two unfortunate third places, you could finally take a well deserved break.

A break that Alexia thought you were spending in America with your family but little did she know that you were currently at the airport waiting for your flight to Barcelona.

It was these moments that you really looked forward to after a whole season of swimming, dryland workouts that you hate and the blessed taper; the moment that Alexia would be back in your arms and you in hers.

You had originally met her in your off season after a friend dragged you to a Champions League game a couple of years ago- you had no clue about the rules of soccer or football as Alexia had drilled into you but that didn't stop the two of you meeting after your friend asked for a photo. Which then spiralled into Alexia asking for your number, something that you handed out very quickly because even in that moment you thought she looked utterly beautiful.

Later when you met Alexia's teammates, they thought you were some crazy fan after she had mentioned that you'd met a game but they weren't all that wrong- sure you hadn't started out as her biggest supporter but you sure turned into one.

Still, you both led busy lives and rarely saw each other apart from when your season ended and you'd live with her, attend her games weekly and see all the parts of Spain that she could show you. Yet all good things came to an end every time you had to fly all the way to the states to begin the pre-meet season. As much as you lived for swimming, it did not stop your heart from aching after her and hers after you but you both understood the commitment that being a professional takes.

But to say it didn't hurt you both would be a lie because you could only wish for her to be in the stands at your meets or the Olympics or be there so you could give her a wet hug after getting out of the water. You were sure she felt the same- you could never make it to her Champions League finals or her World Cup or just cheer for her at a regular game.

You had fought countless times over it- over that fact that the swim season was long and required full dedication but every single argument ended with a facetime that lasted the whole night because you couldn't stand her being mad at you and also because you needed her close- even if through a screen.

So that's why you contacted some of her teammates and her sister- Alba, to help you organise the surprise for her.

You had met Alexia's teammates and sister previously at team bonding dinner, where most of them rabbled in fast Spanish while you chatted to Ingrid about your work. So that's why you had messaged her first about buying tickets and then Alba about securing keys to Alexia's new flat. Which required google translated Spanish that you hoped Alba could understand.

Suddenly, you snapped out of your thoughts as an announcement rang out- first in Mandarin and then in English-

"All passengers for the flight EBC074 to Barcelona, Spain, please board at gate 56."

You stood, USA backpack slung over a singular shoulder, and made your way to the gate. As always, boarding took a lifetime and your seat was right in the middle which wasn't ideal but you would do anything for Alexia... Even if it meant sitting in the middle seat for a 15 hour flight.

The flight was mostly uneventful. You had managed to watch three films, drink your fill in orange juice, play battleships and sleep for a glorious two and a half hours. Then the plane touched down in Barcelona at around midday and you could immediately feel the heat before even stepping out the plane, which as an Alaskan native, you did not appreciate.

Alba had informed you that she'd pick you up which you greatly appreciate because you had quickly learned that having a Spanish girlfriend didn't magically improve your ability to speak Spanish.

You first picked up your oversized bag that you had been lugging around all season long- a black duffle that had as many American flags as you'd expect it to have and one that Alexia liked to poke fun at you for. In return you'd always mention her Barcelona obsession and she would clamp her mouth shut almost immediately.

You made your way through the airport and out front to find Alba but she spots you first-

"Y/N!" You hear a yell from somewhere to your left.

You turn to see Alba standing in front of a nice silver car and waving you over.

"Hola," You greet her with a smile.

Then let out a light gasp after she unexpectedly hugs you... You had learned that Spaniards were affectionate from Alexia's actions but you had only met Alba a handful of times.

"Hola, cuñada," Alba says excitedly as she helps you put your bags in the trunk.

After, you climb into the passenger's seat. Letting out a grateful sigh as the A/C cools you down- you deeply regret wearing sweatpants in the middle of August.

Alba then sits at the wheel and begins to drive out of the airport parking lot.

"So- I was thinking," She begins like a girl gossiping and you chuckle.

"Alexia's game is in the evening, maybe I drive you to hers since she's getting ready at the estadio already and we sit there, no?"

"Yeah, sounds good," You agree and then listen to Alba's chatter for the rest of the way to Alexia's.

She had told you that she'd moved to a different flat after some kind of boiler problems that required her to vacate the property and you had seen plenty of her living room from facetimes and photos of Nala but a brief shot of anxiety passed through you.

What if she didn't want you here? Or didn't like the fact that you had lied to her?

Alba notices your sudden silence and turns the radio down slightly,

"What's wrong, americana?"

The nickname causes you to giggle but then you remember those burning questions that caused you so much anxiety.

"Err.. What- what if Alexia doesn't want me here? Or maybe she'll be angry-"

Alba cuts you off abruptly, "Ale would never- you are her favourite topic to discuss! Y/N this, Y/N that... I've never seen her so obsessed with something apart from football. She talks so much about you that some of the new players don't think you exist,"

"She could never be angry with you," Alba says softly and you relax slightly.

While you did talk to Alexia everyday... there was sometimes that nagging feeling- the one that made you question absolutely everything but it was these kinds of reminders that brought you down to reality.

Alexia loved you and you loved her- so much... so deeply.

Eventually, you had made it to Alexia's and the flat was empty just as Alba said it would be apart from Nala who barks and jumps on you the second you drop your bags in the hallway.

You pick the small bundle of fur up and hold her close, she reminds you of Alexia so much and you couldn't be happier to see her.

"Hello, pretty girl," You whisper into the dog's fur before putting her down and taking off your shoes.

You and Alba send the rest of the afternoon catching up on the sofa until it's time for you to get ready- you decide to change out of the ratty sweatpants and swim meet t-shirt into the only pair of jeans you brought with you from home and take one of Alexia's jerseys from her closet. The fit is a little tight around your shoulders and back but you know it will be worth her reaction.

You say goodbye to Nala with a few kisses and head back to Alba's car to get to the stadium.

You had been to a few of Alexia's games since you'd begun dating- even making one Champions League final where they won against Wolfsburg, where you cheered so hard that you nearly lost your voice. Every time you saw her play it felt as though she was magical and you couldn't be prouder.

So that's why you buzzed with excitement as you sat in your seat at a nearly full Estadi Johan Cruyff- kick off was around ten minutes away and you could barely sit still, your mind swirling with different thoughts.

Would she be happy? Shocked? Had someone told her and ruined the whole thing?

You knew that rumours spread quickly in the Barcelona changing rooms- or at least that's what Alexia had told you- so you hoped that Mapi hadn't let it slip since you had heard that she's quite the chatterbox.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to see Alba holding two cups. She wordlessly hands you one and sits next to you.

"Thank you,"

She waves you off, "De nada," before continuing-

"Are you excited?"

You take a sip of your drink and swallow nervously, "Yeah... Of course- I'm a little nervous too. Hope she doesn't recognise me straight away,"

Alba laughs and nudges you, "That's why we aren't in the family section, chica!"

It's soon after Alba's comment that the game begins- Alexia is starting in midfield with the yellow and red captain's armband proudly on her arm and you resist the urge of waving at her.

You watch the game keenly- joining in with every chant and collective gasp when the ball is close to the goal. You find yourself enjoying the game more than you normally do, maybe it's the nervous excitement of your impending meeting or the fact that your Alexia is creating magic on the pitch. Either way, you find yourself relaxing into the atmosphere more and more.

Then when Alexia scores a beautiful top corner goal from outside the box, you jump to your feet immediately- Jumping up and down with pure joy and a feeling of immense proudness washes over you. In that moment you want to tell absolutely everyone in that stand that she was yours and you were hers. You don't, instead, you celebrate by giving Alba a bone crushing hug that leaves her gasping for air.

"Swimmers have too many muscles," She grumbles when you both sit back down and you laugh before focusing your attention on the game.

The game ends in a landslide victory for Barcelona- 5-0 with Alexia scoring two of the goals and assisting one. They make her Player of the Match and you couldn't agree more.

As the stands begin to clear out, you see her standing in front of a reporter, clearly giving her post match thoughts and congratulations as the captain. Alba grabs your arm and drags you to some Barcelona staff.

She shows them her ID and you pull out yours before they take you downstairs and into the players tunnel where the home team has yet to arrive- they were apparently notorious for celebrating with the fans or so Alba says. You might have to believe her because it's only 15 minutes later that a player makes their way back.

It's someone you haven't met because you don't recognise them and they don't recognise you either but Alba seems to know them.

"Ona!" She calls the player- Ona- over.

The short woman comes over quickly and greets Alba with a hug then speaks ridiculously fast Spanish or Catalan but you can't tell the difference.

Ona then turns to you with a friendly smile, "You a fan? Picture?"

You flush red and then remember that you're wearing Alexia's shirt- you probably do look like a fan. You hear Alba giggle under her breath-

"No no… She's Alexia's novia,"

Ona's face lights up with what you think is recognition, "Ahhh- I thought... Alexia was.. errr- Messing with us,"

You blush even harder- This is probably one of the new signings that Alba mentioned. You shake your head and try to smile without seeming like a blushing mess- Thankfully, Ona leaves soon after to shower.

It's then that you have a moment of peace to sort out your flushed cheeks, eventually you calm down only to be bombarded by a small crowd of Barcelona players.

Ingrid and Mapi spot you next, stopping to catch up then Aitana joins them- followed by Keira who basically answers for Aitana in English.

"Did you bring that weird suit?" Mapi asks excitedly and you wonder what she's talking about.

Then you remember the time that you showed them your tech suit which made them all question how you fit into something so tight.

You laugh, "Yes I did, Mapi,"

You all talk for a while- half catching up and half congratulating them on their win before you hear more studs clattering and then her voice.

"Qué está pasando?"

You melt a little at her Spanish and feel the flush go up your neck- all the players part a little so that Alexia can slip into the small huddle.

Then she sees you, standing next to Alba wearing the old slightly crinkled jeans and her tight jersey, you grin at her widely and open your arms.

Alexia immediately tackles you into a hug, making you let out a breathless chuckle that quickly turns into happy tears. She doesn't let you go and you can feel the dampness of her tears on the jersey which make you pull back slightly.

"You're here," It's a whisper that only reaches you.

"Surprise," You laugh and place a hand on her cheek to wipe her tears.

She leans in to kiss you lightly and you let her- It feels like a dream come true when her lips meet yours, one that you had spent nearly a year dreaming of.

She pulls back after a while and wipes her eyes properly, "What about America?"

You shake your head and smile because this summer you weren't going to see your parents- they could wait and Alexia just couldn't but you couldn't too.

"No America, baby,"

You wrap an arm around her shoulders and hers immediately goes around your waist- slotting herself into your side.

"Did you all know?" She questions the group and they all look sheepishly in different directions.

Alba and Mapi are the first to answer, "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

All Alexia can really do is shake her head and chuckle because it was a very well executed surprise that she couldn't fault you for.

After a short while you have to let her go so that she can shower and change, so you and Alba wait by the exit for her- When she comes out with her hair wet, wearing a cropped Nike shirt and jeans talking to Aitana, you couldn't help but fall in love with her deeper.

This time you get into Alexia's cupra both falling into a comfortable silence as soft music plays through the radio and her hand rests on yours in the middle console.

It's everything you wanted after a season of success. All you wanted was to just... be with Alexia, as if you were regular people without millions of followers and expectations on your back.

You kiss in the elevator like teenagers, giggling in between kisses and praying no one calls the elevator. You manage to survive a second without touching as you make your way out of the elevator and into Alexia's flat.

You toe your shoes off and she does the same, you both greet Nala with kisses and hugs. Then you fumble about in the kitchen as Alexia reheats some leftovers, stealing drawn-out kisses and long hugs with soft sighs of content.

In the end you end up on the sofa with the TV on, both of your clothes swapped out for ratty sweats and t-shirts.

"I love you so much..." You mumble into her neck as you lay on top of her.

She responds immediately, "I love you more, cariño," then runs a hand down your back and you lean into the touch.

"Impossible, baby,"

You continue, "I love you so much that I can feel it every time I look at you- It's so soft and warm like the hot chocolate you make sometimes... You're perfect for me."

There is a pause and then Alexia looks down at you and you meet her gaze, all you can see is love- undoubtely love.

"You look very good in my shirt," She smirks and you can't help but laugh a little because of course she would mention it now.

You hum in mild agreement, "It was a little tight, Ale, but anything for you,"

She frowns a little and shakes her head, "No, cariño, it was perfect,"

You smile and let her have it because it was all worth it- sitting in a shirt a size and a half too small in a crowded stadium in the evening heat was all worth it for her.

You just lean in to kiss her deeply for a moment before resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady heart beat. These moments make everything worth it- all the arguments and endless facetime bedtimes that you were forced into because when you're back with Alexia everything seems so perfect.

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wer you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke a bit more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me for a bit” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to your house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heat stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night. 

[lemonlover1110]

𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀!

Sylus

Pairing: Sylus x f!Reader

Summary: You leave a memento for Sylus before your business trip

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Oral Sex (m. receiving), FILMING (aka they make a sex tape), Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Cockwarming, Nipple Play, Praising

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Sylus gets pouty when he realizes you’ll be gone for a week. He doesn’t know how he ever survived without you. The thought almost seems impractical now. 

The issue with Sylus is that you notice he’s upset, but nobody else does. Sylus successfully manages to suppress any and all of his feelings. To everyone else he looks normal, but you notice that something is off with him. His lips are slightly pursed together instead of being in their typical straight line. His eyebrows are more together than usual, and you can’t help but notice how he subtly wrinkles his nose when you mention that you’ll be gone for a week.

He’s upset, but every time that you mention it Sylus completely denies it. He typically laughs, as if you’ve told some sort of joke when you’ve simply pointed out your observations. He keeps up the facade that he’s a big and strong man that won’t get upset by his girlfriend leaving him; even if it’s with you. You won’t push the matter though, if he claims that he isn’t upset then he’s not upset.

“Is everything packed?” Sylus asks, staring at the pink bag that contains all of your stuff for the week. Sure, it’s big but not enough for a week’s worth of clothes and necessities. It surprises him when you nod. “Sweetie, I know you aren’t low maintenance…”

“You act like I’ll be gone for a month. It’s just a week, and I’ll mostly be in uniform.” You respond, and you watch as his face contorts. He’s upset. Your eye could twitch at his reaction– It’s not that you’re mad that he’s upset, you’re mad because he denies it. No matter what you say he’ll deny it.

“Right, it’s just a week.” He answers. Comforting yet distressful words. 

“But maybe you’re right, in case I need to stay for longer I should pack–” You begin but before you can even finish the thought, the man cuts you off.

“Why would you need to stay for longer?” His words almost come out jumbled from how fast he speaks. He notices how he acts and corrects his speech, “Doesn’t the association have other hunters? Why would they exclusively force you to stay?”

“I’m important at my job, Sylus.” You point out, getting pouty yourself. However, you should be happy. You can see the distress in his eyes by the mere suggestion that you might have to stay for longer. “And since you won’t miss me around, I might just stay longer.”

“You’re more than welcome to.” He crosses his arms, not willing to let you win in this petty game that you have suddenly created. 

“Fine.” You frown, grabbing your bag from the bedroom and heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?” He questions as you begin to walk away.

“I’m sleeping in the guest room.” You announce, and you watch as he clenches his jaw; yet, he won’t say a thing. He nods. He’ll let you have your way.

You expect Sylus to be in your room within thirty minutes, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You know him enough to know that he’ll show up to your room eventually, you’re just not sure that you’ll be awake for when that happens. Your eyes are getting heavy, before you know it, you’ll be asleep.

Luckily, at thirty-one minutes, you feel a heavy weight settle in beside you. He’ll continue to deny that he’s upset. But he doesn’t have to admit that he’s upset for you to know– What difference will it make if he admits it?

“Are you asleep?” He whispers as his arm goes over your body, bringing you closer to him. You hum in response, quickly followed by a giggle from you. “Does that mean you don’t want to talk?”

“Will you admit that you’ll miss me?” You ask him as you feel his cold hand going under your shirt, looking for warmth. You nearly squeal at the cold hands, but you’re used to them. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, answering your question in the most unusual manner.

“Who’s going to warm me up?” He responds.

“Mephisto.” You joke, but he can’t find any humor in your words. He’s serious, yet you’re laughing.

“And who’ll keep me company?” He continues while your hand caresses his arm. He’s letting himself be soft, a pleasure that only you get to witness. He’d call it his weak side, but you think it’s his finest trait.

“I’m only one call away.” You remind him, but you understand that it’s not the same. You take his hand out of your shirt and turn on your side to look at him. He’s looking down at you with soft eyes, completely filled with worry.

“I want to see your face.” He says, and your hand goes to his cheek, pinching it. 

“Your phone has a camera, silly. You’re always calling me on facetime.” He’s finding issues with anything and everything, all which has a solution. Your lips land on the tip of his nose before you ask, “Is it because you’re going to miss my kisses and undivided attention?”

He stays quiet, and you peck his lips. You kiss him over and over again. You’ll do it until he asks you to stop, but Sylus is never going to stop you. As long as you’re all over him, he’s happy. 

“Kiss your hand whenever you miss me.” Your thumb caresses his cheek, and he looks at you with adoring eyes. You press your forehead against his, while his arm brings you closer to him.

“What if I’m missing more than just your kisses?” He asks, and your brows perk up. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s insinuating, but you choose to act stupid. You want to hear the exact words.

“Hmm… What do you mean?” You sit up, batting your eyelashes at him. A smirk comes to his lips, noting the mischief in your eyes. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him while his hands go to your waist.

“You know exactly what I mean, kitten.” He responds, his hands going under your shirt once again– This time, they aren’t looking for warmth; they’re being naughty and trailing up your skin. “What will I do when I need more than your kisses?”

“You have the internet.” You remind him, reaching into his pocket to pull out his precious phone. You input the password, one that so perfectly matches with your birthday, and open the browser on his phone. Before you can begin typing, he snatches the phone from your hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus’ eyes narrow as he stares at the tiny screen. You bite down your lip, suppressing a smirk. His eyes look back and forth between you and his phone.

“I was going to show you where you can go whenever you need a little bit more–” You begin, but he cuts you off. He’s almost offended that you were about to even suggest that.

“Why would I want to watch anyone that isn’t you, kitten?” He raises an eyebrow, and you feel your cheeks get warm at his comment. His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head to look directly down at him. “Do you understand my frustration?”

“It’s only a week.” Your words bring little to no comfort to him. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. It’s not just a week. “What else can I do? It’s my job.”

“I told you that you can always quit– But since you don’t want to do that… Nothing.” He ends up sighing. You’d almost feel bad for Sylus, if he weren’t overreacting. You’ve lost count of the amount of times the amount suddenly disappeared for days on end.

“You’ll survive.” You tell him, as your eyes land on his phone. An idea comes to your mind, but you don’t have the guts to outright suggest it. You peck his lips before you whisper, “If you tell me you’ll miss me then I’ll do you a favor.”

“Which is?” He questions, and he watches your eyes land on his phone. He doesn’t need to be told twice, or in this case, not even once. He moves your hair out of the way and kisses your forehead, lips moving down to the tip of your nose and then your lips. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“Now you can admit it.” You joke, lips landing on his, more intensely than any kiss you’ve shared tonight. His breathing gets heavy, body temperature suddenly rising as he feels your lips on yours. The moment an opening comes to you, your tongue enters his mouth and presses against his own. 

His hands roam through your body, going under your shirt and landing on your tits. Fingers circle and lightly pinch your nipples while his teeth bite down your bottom lip before pulling away. Sylus can’t properly enjoy himself before you push his hands away from your breasts,

You grab his phone, opening the camera and beginning the video, before forcing him to take it. You smile at the camera before your hands lift up your shirt, putting on a show for the screen. Sylus’ free hand can’t help itself, quickly fondling your chest.

“Make sure you get my good angle.” You adjust the camera before your body moves down. You begin to kiss his lower abdomen, moving down until his briefs stop you. Your finger hooks under the waist band, pulling down and freeing his cock from its restraints. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a couple of strokes before you spit on it. Your head moves down, tongue circling the tip of his dick, earning a groan from him. He tries to keep the phone still, not wanting to look back at the footage and watch blurry footage, but it’s hard to keep still when he’s so sensitive. 

Eyes look up at him as your mouth wraps around his length, taking in as much as you can. You slowly bob your head, each movement earning a sound from the man. You’re putting on a show for him– Making a memorable video for him. It’ll be his most prized possession, yet the most confidential.

“Good job.” He praises, almost out of breath as your mouth gags on his cock. Tears well up in your eyes, his dick too much for you to handle. You’re trying to outdo yourself for the audience, taking all of him while you know that you can’t.

“You’re such a good girl.” He tells you while you take your mouth off his cock, spit coating your chin as you gasp for air. 

“Is it good, baby? Will you be thinking of this while I’m gone?” Your eyes are focused on the camera, not even bothering on looking at your boyfriend. Sylus would complain, if his eyes weren’t rolling to the back of his head. Your lips kiss the tip before your tongue circles around his cock again.

His voice gets louder as your mouth sets just the right pace. His breath gets caught up in his chest, slowly losing control. Your hand massages his balls as you watch Sylus’ face contort with pleasure.

Sylus moans your name as his cum hits the back of your throat. He groans as he empties himself inside your mouth. You take your mouth off his cock, making sure to swallow every last drop of his cum and sticking your tongue out so the camera can see how much of a good girl you are.

“Good girl, making sure to not waste a single drop.” Sylus says, his hand going down to your mouth and wiping the corner of your mouth. Your face goes up, lips landing on his own, which he happily receives. When he pulls away, he reminds you, “You have to complete the show, kitten.”

“Put the phone on the nightstand.” You tell him, and while he tries to find the perfect position, you take off your pants. His hands get shaky, desperate to continue. It’s the last time he’ll see you like this for a week, and he’ll make sure to enjoy every single minute. 

“Fuck– Fuck!” He curses as the phone falls, something that he’ll have to edit out of the video– Is he seriously thinking about editing his sex tape? He can simply fast forward, but that’ll just ruin his mood.

“Will you hurry?” You whine, getting desperate to feel him inside of you. You can’t wait for him to find the perfect position. Just as he settles the phone down perfectly, you push your panties to the side. You align his cock with your entrance, and slowly settle down on his length. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock fills you up.

“Fuck…” He mutters, out of breath as he feels your cunt wrap around him. As much as he loves your mouth, it truly can’t compare. Oh, he could cry knowing that he’ll only have his hand for a week. He’ll make do with what you’ve given him.

“Oh, fuck.” You moan, adjusting to his dick before you begin to move. You’re bouncing on his cock, setting a slow pace. His hands grip your ass while he lifts his face to bury it between your tits. He’ll make sure to enjoy his last few moments with you; it’s why you call him overdramatic, he acts as if he’ll never see you again. Though, right now you can’t complain about the way he acts. His tongue licks your cleavage before his mouth successfully latches onto your nipple.

Sylus moves his hips, moving much faster than you. You meet him half way, moans getting louder as his cock hits every right spot. Maybe you’re putting on such a show because you want the video yourself, you’ll definitely need it. You grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back which causes him to bite down before pulling away. The pain adds to the pleasure.

“You’re doing such a good job.” You talk to him as if he were a pathetic little pet. A tone of voice which he hates to admit he enjoys. “Are you my good boy, Sylus?”

“Yes.” He admits, sex brain getting the best of him– No, it’s something that he’d admit at any other time with you… Not with people around, but regardless, he’d admit it. “I’m your good boy, kitten.”

You smile, eyes darting directly at the tiny camera that captures the moment. Surely, he’ll deny that he ever said those words but luckily, you have an audience this time around.

“You feel so good.” He tells you, one hand going down to play with your clit. Your breath hitches, your hands wrapping to the back of his neck as your lips land on his. He’s met with pure carnal desire, a side of you that he rarely comes across with. A side that he thoroughly enjoys. 

“I’m gonna– Fuck–” You begin as you pull away, but you can’t finish your sentence. You begin to tighten around him, your orgasm rapidly approaching and taking over you. 

“Come all over me, sweetheart.” His eyes look down at his cock, watching as your pussy wraps around it. A sight that he’ll be thinking about for 604,800 seconds. His phone will do no justice. 

“Sylus– It’s so fucking good!” You’re practically screaming, surely making a spectacle of yourself. You’d make a great actress, that’s for sure. You throw your head back, mouth falling agape as pleasure consumes you.

“Good job, kitten. Good job.” He praises you as your orgasm consumes you and you make a mess all over him. He can’t help but grab the phone and practically show off to where your two bodies meet. It’s a sight that he never wants to forget about.

“Look at you, you made such a mess.” He clicks his tongue, but it’s a mess that he appreciates, especially with how your pussy feels around him. Your lips meet once again, while his thrusts become unregulated. 

“I’m gonna come inside you, okay?” He tells you, making you frantically nod in response. Before you know it, Sylus’ seed coats your insides. The man is unwilling to pull out until he makes sure that every last drop of his cum is inside of you– Though that’s hard as it drips out of your cunt and coats his cock. 

Sylus makes sure to get one last frame of your pussy, before panning the camera to your face. You smile at the camera, winking before you kiss the lens. That’s when Sylus decides to end the perfect video. 

“Is that enough for you?” You ask as you try to lift yourself up from his cock, but his hands hold you down.

“Let’s stay like this for a bit.” You swear you see a pout on his lips once again. He doesn’t want to let you go just yet.

“Fine.” You agree as his lips peck yours ever-so-lovingly.

“I’ll miss you.” He finally admits, and you smile before kissing him again. You had imagined the revelation to be more romantic… But this will make do.

“I love you, Sylus.”

“I love you too.”

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 29: Stepcest

Mommy Ryujin should really read labels more.

Length 1.8K

Ryujin X Mreader

It was a bit upsetting when your father told you he couldn’t come along to the vacation you had planned for the family. It was a trip to Hawaii you had spent a lot of money on. You didn’t particularly want to spend time with your stepmother. Ryujin was just a little older than you. It was a bit weird for you, but you couldn’t just cancel the trip; there wouldn’t be any refund. So you went on the trip you had planned with Ryujin. It was a bit awkward at first, but after a while, the two of you managed to get along somewhat. You have done some nice activities like scuba diving, paddleboarding, and surfing, and all these activities got you closer to Ryujin. You couldn’t help but look at her body as it got wet whenever she fell into the water. 

It made you horny, but you couldn’t fuck your stepmother. You would need to find someone else to help. While you were prepping to explore the nightlife of the main island, Ryujin came into the room. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ll just be waking around. It’s about time we did some of our own things, right?” Ryujin nodded; she hadn’t really planned on doing anything.

“I think I’ll just be here and relax a little. You go have fun. Mommy knows you’ll be fine,” She joked. It irked you, though; she thought of it as a little joke, but it’s something that made you slightly uncomfortable. You grab the room keys and give her a quick nod before leaving quietly. Ryujins sighs as she begins to look through the mini-fridge. The prices of the drinks inside were enough to drive her away. She looked around before noticing a little packet you had left behind. She thought it was a drink mix.

She took the packet. " Long-lasting energy?” Ryujin figured you wouldn’t miss it, so she ripped it open and poured the contents into her water bottle, watching it turn a vivid blue as she shook her bottle. She sipped it; the flavor wasn’t so bad. It was not something she would choose, but it was better than nothing. As she drank it, though, Ryujin felt her body heating up. As she headed to the bathroom, Ryujin’s chest brushed against a wall, sending shockwaves through her body. Stepping inside, she saw her nipples poking through her shirt. Bringing her hand to her chest, she felt the same tingling; she cooed as the wave of pleasure hit her. Her other hand moved under her pants. She was already wet; her body was already craving more than just a simple touch. Ryujin rubbed her slit, moaning softly as she stared at herself in the mirror. Knowing you would be gone for a few hours, she went back to bed, fingering herself to several orgasms. The evening had turned to night, and Ryujin was still going. The long-lasting energy text on the packet made sense to her now. 

When the doorknob started to jiggle, though, she threw a blanket over herself and pretended to be asleep. You stepped through the door more than a little tipsy; instead of heading to your room, you went to Ryujin’s, landing next to her and drifting off to sleep.

She rubbed her slit, struggling to hold back her moans. The sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of her wet cunt were growing louder as she sped up. Ryujin grabbed at her breasts, her body becoming too hot. It was unbearable. She looked over her shoulder, staring at you. Ryujin noticed something, though; she saw that you were hard. She stared at your bulge, her fingers moving along her slit. She whimpered softly, dirty thoughts crossing her mind. She was your stepmother, yet her thoughts drifted to unsavory places. Ryujin reached over to you, her hand hovering above your bulge as she considered crossing the line. She bit her lip, struggling to contain her desires. Ryujin let her hand fall on your bulge, feeling it twitch. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. “Just a taste. That’s all I need.” Ryujin whispered to herself as she silently moved between your legs, tugging at your sweatpants, pulling your underwear along with them. The waistband held you back, but as soon as she had pulled just a little too far, your cock swung toward her, smacking her. 

Ryujin didn’t dare move; her nostril filled with your musk as she took a deep breath. Her head was foggy as she stuck her tongue out. She dragged it along your shaft, moaning softly as she got a taste of you. It was like a drug; now that she had a taste, she wanted more. Coming to the tip, Ryujin couldn’t help but wrap her lips around your cock, beginning to bob her head almost immediately. Ryujin’s moans became louder as she bobbed her head, her tongue swirling around the tip of your cock as she continued to finger herself. She didn’t care that you were her stepson, she was just desperate for a cock. As your stepmom sucked on your cock she could feel her climax approaching. She arched her back, readying herself for the waves of pleasure that were about to wash over her. Ryujin pushed herself down to the base of your cock, making it hit the back of her throat.

You began to stir, groaning as you felt something warm around your cock. As you look down, you see Ryujin gorging herself on it, her drool making your cock slick as she bobbed her head. “R-ryujin,” you groan, unable to move as the pleasure fills your body. 

“Shhh, let Mommy take care of you.” She moaned, running her hand along your shaft. “Mommy just needs a little taste.” She said softly before wrapping her lips around your cock again. She bobbed her head slower now, letting her tongue move along the sides of your cock as she slowly took in more of your cock. You let her keep going. Ryujin was a beautiful woman. How could you resist her when she was giving you a blowjob? The fact she was your stepmother was something you weren’t thinking about in your drunken state.  Ryujin moved up your body, nipping at your neck as she stroked your cock. 

You move your hands to her ass, squeezing the soft flesh and making Ryujin moan. “You such a dirty boy,” she teased. You squeezed her ass again; you had stared at it the past few days when you were with Ryujin. It was nice and full, bouncing whenever she jumped. “I need you to fuck me,” Ryujin whispered, her voice laced with lust. She tugs on your arm as she pulls away from you, setting herself up for you to take her. She gets on all fours, and it’s only now you notice she isn’t wearing any underwear and only has on her white tank top. You got behind Ryujin, watching as she swayed her ass in front of you, “Come on, I need you.”

You slapped Ryujin’s ass, watching her flesh jiggle before delivering another smack. “Mmm, don’t tease me. Fuck mommy already.” Ryujin groaned, raising her ass and arching her back for you. You hold her waist with one hand, using the other to bring your cock in line with her slit. Prodding the entrance, you push the head in, spreading her lips apart. Ryujin moans as she feels your cock stretching her. “You're so big,” she mumbles before your ram your length inside her cunt. Ryujin cries out as your cock pushes her walls apart. Her eyes nearly roll into the back of her head, her body shakes, and she almost cums. You pull out quickly, grabbing her shoulder with your free hand before ramming yourself back inside. Ryujin moans your name as you begin to pound away at her body. The cock that she was craving was finally inside her.

She pushes her hips back and plays with her clit. The pleasure was driving her crazy. Your stepmother begs for more. You give her exactly what she wants, pressing her against the mattress and ramming your cock into her cunt. Ryujin smiles, the pleasure pushing her over the edge. Ryujin cries out as she cums on your cock, her nectar coating your cock before squirting onto the bed. You continue your thrusts, watching her ass and considering using the other hole. You pull out of Ryujin’s pussy, gulping as you move your cock to her other hole. Ryujin can barely think as she feels your cock pressing against her asshole. “Hm? Hold on…” she says weakly as you push your cock into the puckered hole, stretching it. “Ah, w-wait, I’m not ready.” Ryujin groans.

The tight hole painfully squeezes down on your shaft as you push more of your length inside. Ryujin continues to groan, feeling your cock stretch her unused asshole. She feels fuller than ever before. The sensation makes her cum as she feels you thrust the final inches into her. She squirts again, her nectar soaking the mattress. “You’re so tight? Has Dad used this hole before?”

“Never,” Ryujin mumbles, her strength leaving her body, causing her to flop onto the bed. You hold her waist up as you pull out slowly, dragging along her walls. Somehow she has enough energy to reach back and stretch her cheeks, “Fuck my ass, please.” Ryujin had utterly lost it. The feeling of having her ass filled by her stepson was too much. You drive your cock back into Ryujin’s ass. She begs you for more, and with every thrust, it becomes easier to fuck Ryujin. Her walls become slick with her nectar. The pain and pleasure caused by your cock was addictive; you met Ryujin’s cries for more. You stirred her guts as you got closer to your climax. Ryujin felt your cock begin to throb inside her and screamed, “Cum inside Mommy’s ass!” 

“If that’s what you want,” you grunt before burying yourself inside her ass. Your cum floods her guts. Ryujin’s body shakes as she has a mind-shattering orgasm. She collapses onto the bed, eyes in the back of her head. You pull out slowly, coming out of her ass with a pop. Her asshole winks at you as it tries to shut, and your cum leaks out of it slowly, running down her body until it meets the bed. You collapse beside Ryujin, falling asleep almost instantly.

When the sun rose the following day, you woke up to the sight of Ryujin’s back; she was riding you. Ryujin was bouncing on your cock, impaling her ass on it every time. When you grab her waist, she looks over her shoulder, “Good Morning,” She groans. “Why don’t we spend today inside and get to know each other a little more? I’m sure your dad won’t mind.”

[christinescupofcoffee]

Multis. Although… I do enjoy the stray one shot every now and again.

A bit of both, and i’ve found that I’m most relaxed when I write without a plan (or at the very least having an idea as to where it’s going but not really having a destination. All my fics the last couple of years have been like this).

I take my time with chapters now—last few times I’ve gone on ao3 for any reason, the damned thing crashes (really, I’m worried about that place. I can’t expect it to last for the next four years the way it freaks out every couple of days). I worry about things like censorship, too: so getting my fics saved onto my laptop, I’m free to write and continue these stories at my own pace. My laptop is offline, too, i.e., no distractions. Sure, I can’t share anything, it’s a hassle, but… I kind of like it. It’s giving me all the 2016-2018 vibes when I was in the dark, away from the world, living in my own world alone. Everyone was screaming and yelling and carrying on about the political landscape and I just tucked myself away into my own imagination. I kind of want to do it again, if I’m honest.

I feel so raw saying this, raw and vulnerable, but… I have always been in love. I have always found myself crushing on someone. I have always written from the heart.

Honestly? *looks around* not really. It can be very useful, helpful, inspiring even. But… I approach this the same way I approach the culinary world and art: I bake a cake or make a drawing the same way I write a long fic, and I simply cannot divorce my heart from my work. People like to gripe about this sort of thing until the cows come home… no one has no idea how it makes me feel. Yes, I know my grammar can be complete shit at times, and yes, I am very verbose, but that’s how I roll. No need to shame me and make it seem like I just committed a mortal sin by accidentally omitting a word.

Nope. No beta, we die like Titans of Creation.

It has to “speak to me”, if you will. Seasons Grey works with third-person perspective because you don’t know everything about Christine and Alex is a mystery. Blood & Chocolate and After the Gold Rush work with first-person perspective because it’s intimate. Xenon Dreams works with the alternating first-person because all five men have different experiences, and it’s intimate; conversely, All That Glitters has the alternating third-person because it’s more adventurous. Now it’s Dark and Dark Months of April and May use first-person because it’s unreliable. Quarter After Twelve has the what I call “2 whole eggs, 3 yolks” perspective (Andy and Zero’s arcs are first-person; Richie, Tina, and Allison are third-person), as Andy is traumatized, Zero is stuck in one place, Richie and Tina are both still waters, and Allison is a broken man and therefore detached.

Beginning (what I get for being an Aries 😅)

I try to—and you know, I would be a lot more adept at it if people didn’t bitch about it ad infinitum. I was thinking about this the other night when SNL50 was going, too: fandom has changed drastically just in the last few years alone, in a sense that fans not only treat it like it’s business but they spend more time whining about the most trivial things (lack of comments, getting criticism, this weird unhinged approach to fandom as a whole) than doing anything useful or creative, god forbid.

“Meanwhile, once she had come downstairs, Alex had already showed up outside of her apartment in a snug dark gray shirt and low-slung black long shorts. His shoulder-length black hair was almost smooth and nicely combed back: there was a slight curl right over his shoulders, and his skin looked as smooth as porcelain. He looked a bit fuller, rounder, and softer right then, especially with the shade cast down from the building upon the crown of his head and his shoulders. He lifted his sunglasses up from his face to show her his eyes.” (latest chapter of Dark Roots of Earth, book two of Seasons Grey)

Genuinely don’t want to do that because… you know. ao3 is more mental than me the week before my period starts. But… With Strings Attached, the Beatles fic that inspired pretty much everything long from me. There’s a Light, the Pearl Jam/grunge fic that I still think about even 8 years after its completion. My friend Amanda wrote a two-parter that inspired Midnight Oil (drawing a blank on the title). You Know Your Rights on Wattpad (can’t remember the author’s name), probably the best “Hole-vana” fic I can think of. The entire Gojira tag on ao3. There’s a couple of Alan Partridge fics on ao3 that got a good laugh out of me. Love in Exile and a couple of Alice In Chains fics that wake up the kinkster in me. FOOLS GOLD (from Cazio).

I have a complicated relationship with feedback. I welcome it forever, but because I had to go through English and writing classes, peer reviews, teachers who ran on assumption that I knew what I was doing, the whole thing about me writing from the heart, and the fact that I tend to attract negative attention (I’ve often felt that people have an inexplicable pathological hatred of me), I never expect accolades. In fact, I fully expect everyone to hate it.

Be descriptive. I like bending this one and injecting poetry into things, even if it doesn’t seem to make sense.

This has been a learned skill on my part because when I first got into fiction writing, it was hard to not get melodramatic with things. I’m an emotional person and the other thing that’s worked for me is a cause and effect situation as well as pulling from my own scars: in Seasons Grey, Christine lost her best friend at a young age and sort of buried it. I wonder how everyone is going to react to this tidbit of her life, especially Alex—especially since he reminds her of Chris. In stories like All That Glitters and After the Gold Rush, I just sit and think of angst. What would happen if Jed and Octavius suffered an irreversible falling out. Where would Phileas go if he just started thinking and realized what was happening, both with Monique and Passepartout and back home in England. I feel like I made those three more human with this, too.

My smut is so wordy that even I can’t believe it. I have to set the mood as well as be spontaneous with it. It’s genuinely isolating when I look at smut in other places, too, like I can’t just do 1200 words, I have to lead into things and I have to be real with it all, too.

A bunch 😅 As the Seasons Grey. I started writing it in early 2023 after doing kinkmas during a blizzard: it basically just grew out of this fantasy I have about being a source of comfort for the man.

Exercise. Draw. Read. Garden. Bake and/or cook. Watch a movie or TV.

I think there was a couple where I came up with the title after I started writing simply because anything else I came up with sucked (fever in, fever out was an example of this; so was Have Your Cake and Eat It). Like with perspectives, titles usually speak to me, and they’ll come in song form or in sayings. “xenon dreams” is a weird one, though: xenon is a byproduct of radioactive iodine, which is found in fallout. That whole fic had this dreamy, blue color scheme whenever I thought about it; xenon is blue/indigo when electrolyzed.

“Alternate Universe”

A love of food. A feeling of heart throughout. This overreaching feeling of vulnerability within, a tenderness. Writing because I have a crush and no one knows how to react to it. Lately, I’ve been throwing in little call backs to my other wips in my wips, like it’s a spiderweb.

Yes, but I don’t see it happening any time soon, though.

Second-person perspective. Done to fucking death at this point and something about it just irritates me to no end, like it ruins my immersion right from the beginning.

Write when you can (instead of “write every day”, because sometimes you just can’t write every day, damn it).

“Avoid overused words” (look no further than “said”. Why. Why would I avoid “said”.) “Use active voice” (I’ve found a lot of power in being a little passive or submissive, if you can believe it. Conversely, I have had the most complaints from my active voice).

now it’s dark. My last adventure before the pandemic. Joey himself even loved it!

fever. Homeboy was 1.1 million words!

Most favorite: just seeing my internal worlds come to life. Least favorite: sharing it with everyone.

2-3k is considered a good day to me. 4-5k is “I got snowed in/it’s too fucking hot out to do anything” word lengths.

Ha, you really don’t want to know.

Yes.

Characters. Maybe that’s another reason why my fics tend to be entrenched in heart?

Amanda. Aviva Rothschild (author of With Strings Attached, i had to look her up really quick). Drawing a blank on the name of the person who wrote Love in Exile.

Of course!

Hopefully not like my homeskillet Oscar Wilde.

Their darkness exists in all of us to some degree.

Nervously with a pit in my stomach, a devastating feeling of existentialism, and a side of ginger ale.

Yet another thing that speaks to me.

Yes… but I don’t have the best experience with them, though. I tried to get commissions with my art years ago, and… there’s a reason why you aren’t seeing them.

(see above)

bro, if you make fanart of Alex and Eric on the lawn outside the apartment complex at sunrise, of Erik and Dragon talking, of Isaac flipping out on Richie, of James and Richard at breakfast, of Phileas napping, of Octavius and Ahkmenrah getting slack jawed drunk, of Jane and Vanessa with their braids… I’ll be happy.

If I really like something, I’ll read it several times.

The last fic I left kudos on ao3 was a compilation of Strawberry Shortcake one shots: underrated fandom and it was snowing outside, so I was in a cozy mood. The last fic I bookmarked was a one shot from Ideal Home: it was erotic and very tender.

The latter. I really only put them through pain to ground them.

I have no beta but I omit words all the time.

I want to make you laugh then break your heart, and then vice versa—such is the Steve Coogan school of writing.

Emotionally charged idyllic action

2. Any more than that and I’ll drive myself crazy.

🤷🏻‍♀️

All the time and I don’t deal with them.

1.1 million, AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

4.9 million, I think?

I want to. Believe me, I want to. I’m way more responsive on instagram, though, mainly because I can see you on my lockscreen. There’s none of that nerve-racking “oh, shit, what is it now” that comes with getting an inbox notification.

Definitely a writer. When I read, I go way outside of the fandom (like Strawberry Shortcake, old Top Gear, lesser known literature and theater, anything Steve touches). I’m not afraid to go into unknown territory, too, like Around the World in 80 Days with Steve and Skinwalker Ranch. Maybe that’s why Bandom writers can’t stand me?

Really, just writing the thing.

Hands down, Alex. He’s the love of my life. I just found him on a whim, in a bad part of history, and I was drawn to his plume of silver and his intellect. He brings out the sensuality in me, too, more than Joey or Lars.

🤷🏻‍♀️

Wait until it’s finished. Again, I’ll drive myself crazy.

Writing without question.

No, and yes, I would. My mom wrote fics way back in the era of message boards and mailing lists, back in 2001-2002, so she gets it.

Can’t say I have.

I like doing it and… referring back to fandom changing for the worse, is it just me or do fics, especially rpf fics, seem kind of mean-spirited now. Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I read some rpf where it felt like the author actually likes the guy involved, aside from the thing Amanda wrote. There has to be some heart here.

Painful but my god, do they keep you engaged.

“Coming inside” someone. Screaming. “Good girl.” Tight pussies—bitch, no one’s pussy is that tight. Weird euphemisms for body parts, too. When you’re reading about your kink and something happens that turns off the whole mood or doesn’t gel with your approach. The author claims to be sex-positive but there’s something off about the whole thing, like there’s no way that they are. Goes without saying I don’t like a ton of smut.

“Good boy.” Foreplay. Tension, like… you’re anticipating it and you don’t know if it’s going to happen or not.

Bringing it to life. Cozying up all snug next to Alex, Eric, Joey, Lars, Krist, Richard, James, Steve, all my boys under the warm sun away from the world…

I don’t think about it anymore.

Independent ideas. I guess this is the other reason why I hate kinktober other than feeling rawer than a frozen chicken?

Everything.

Black Diamonds. I got called “disgusting” for that, if you can believe it.

Totally embarrassed. I’m enthusiastic but every time, I’m faced with stupid reactions that it makes me uncomfortable.

…I’m not sure?

Chronological. I kinda have to.

It’s just weird.

probably the writing style.

Get to know your fic writer!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Do you like constructive criticism?

Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

How do you choose which POV to write from?

Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Do you comment on stories you read?

Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Best writing advice for other writers?

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

What’s your revision or editing process like?

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Do you want to be published some day?

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

How do you write kissing scenes?

How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Would you ever write commissions?

Share a snippet from a WIP

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

What do you look for in a beta?

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

How long is your longest fic?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Why do you continue writing fics?

Thoughts on cliffhangers?

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 

Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]? 

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter? 

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Old Fashioned: swallow that bitter taste

Word Count: 2.7k Contents: angst, cursing, some dark themes, which include slut shaming, abuse, both physical and verbal, threat of violence, not proofread

The beep beep beep that echoes around the empty, dusty room strikes at your equally empty and equally dusty heart. You try to visit the hospital as often as your schedule permits, but these days, with all the wedding preparations, you could really only dedicate an hour every Thursday, between lectures. 

It’s pathetic. He deserves better than this half-hearted display of love and guilt, the natural combination. If he was awake, he’d undoubtedly make a snarky comment about how the wilting flowers you can barely afford is a representation of your friendship going down the drain because he obviously deserves more than carnations, of all flowers. 

Oh, how you wish he could tell you off right now. 

“Hi, Asahi. You’re looking shittier than last time,” you muse with a chuckle, a shaky smile pulling at your lips. 

There he is, lying in some drab hospital gown, tucked all nice and warm in a rigid bed, with only you, a dull lump of black lace as his only company. He can’t roll his eyes at your pitiful tone or fire back some insult about how your eyeliner is far too thick for your eyes and you more closely resembles a panda than any sexy vampire you’ve been trying to simulate. 

“Remember the boy I’ve been telling you about? Well, we got into a bit of a disagreement the other night. I don’t know, I guess he got fed up with this play acting thing we’re doing. And I don’t really blame him, y’know? We’re barely adults and we’re getting married. Isn’t that crazy? God, I wish you could be there, you can laugh at me and throw rice or confetti or whatever it is they do nowadays. Maybe even purposefully get it in my eye, knowing you.”

No reply. 

Just like all those times before, there is never a reply, only a beep beep beeping that drives you crazy and you can never seem to tune out, try as you might. Sometimes, at night, you hear that mocking sound hooking itself into your spine and carrying you away from the guiltless comfort of sleep.

With a sigh, you carry on. “Well, anyways, I think you’d really like him. He’s a little stupid. Okay, maybe a lot stupid, but I don’t know, I think it’s endearing. He has these annoying eyes that are just so bright and God, do you ever just wanna rip off someone’s eyes and stomp on them because they’re too dazzling? ‘Cause I do. Every time, I look at his. And his laugh. Oh, God. You won’t believe it. It’s the most obnoxious sound in the entire world. I actually get nightmares, I swear. He laughs like he doesn’t care how loud he is, like he thinks people should laugh more, like it’s a crime not to find laughing easy. What an idiot, right?”

You don’t mention how since that evening, he hasn’t blown up your phone like he usually does, in fact you received no notifications from him at all. Within the first hour or two, you thought he still needed some space, and you understood. But then as hours turned into a whole night, then a whole morning, then a day and another, you started to think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll never text you again. 

And can you blame him?

He wasn’t wrong, about him being used. From the very beginning, he always represented wealth and what that can bring. Surely, he was aware that even if people did genuinely like him for who he is, the strength of his name, of what courses through his blood, will always hang in the air, this infinite void shielding him from everyone who tries to get too close only to end up further and further away. 

“I think I should apologise and give him that second date he’s been begging me for. Yeah, actually begging. I told you he’s stupid.” Your voice is trailing off, a slight wobble that you can’t seem to command away. “I think I hurt his feelings. I know, surprise surprise. But I just can’t help but feel like, out of everyone involved in this thing, he’s the least deserving, y’know? Ugh, I’ll talk to the guy when I run into him on campus — he’s kinda hard to miss.”

Even paralysed and in a coma, you’re certain Asahi can tell you aren’t convincing yourself with the fake bravado. Truthfully, you’re not sure you could bring yourself to mutter an apology. No, it isn’t that. You can’t bring yourself to come face to face with him, lest you see something that doesn’t quite match up with your vision of a sincere expression of happiness, at seeing you.

Fiddling with a loose thread on your dress, you pull it taut, tighter and tighter, until it snaps. 

“Here again?”

Your head snaps back. 

“Mother, w-what are you doing here?”

Beep beep beep.

She waltzes in, clasping her snakeskin handbag closer to her, as if the cramped room would snatch it off her manicured hands. Burgundy pencil skirt clashing with her neon blouse, those staple bright red lips curl into something that makes you gulp. You don’t dare bring up the fact that she desperately needs a stylist — that is the least of your issues.  

Pursing her lips, her disapproving eyes roves over your body, before she scoffs and looks away, focusing instead on a framed print photo of tomato soup cans in all sorts of colours. You shuffle in your seat, the plastic squeaking. 

“You’ve disappointed me once again,” she begins, settling her bag on the table where your flowers droop over the vase. You recognise this tone of hers, the one that’s too calm, too flat to ever mean anything other than trouble. “You were given one task and one task only, and somehow, either by natural ineptitude or wilful rebellion, you’ve failed at something so simple. Goodness, what ever did happen to that brain of yours?”

It’s clear she isn’t here to chat about the weather, so you stand up, pulling a glove further up your wrist and exhale as quietly as you can. 

“Now, mother, I know the dinner didn’t end very well, but he just needs a second to cool down and then he’ll be on board again. I’ll go on another date with him and show him we can work together. I’ll fix it, I swear.”

Her glare pierces you, forcing you to stumble back. 

Scoffing, she waves a hand in the air. “‘Fix it?’ You will fix it? God, Y/N. It is not the time for your sarcastic little jokes. You can’t fix anything. You proved that the other night with whatever you had texted him as we made plans for your wedding.”

“Y-you knew?”

The laugh that escapes her lacks any real joy — the only one she’s capable of. Cold, mocking and scathing, you can do nothing but wince under its weight. 

“It’s hard to not notice you typing away under the table like some whore playing footsie! I raised you better than that, no? Where did all those etiquette lessons go anyways? Hmm? It’s certainly not towards your uncouth behaviour. Goodness, look at you. You’re in your final year of university and you still haven’t matured.”

When she gets into these rants, there’s no stopping her. You learnt that when she snapped at you for tripping on your own dress in front of a ballroom of people at the age of eight, and at twelve when she overheard you use a swear word with a friend. 

“Still bumbling about, pretending to be indifferent and nihilistic, like some child playing dress up. And what have I said about this all black look? You look ridiculous and not to mention hideous. When are you going to grow out of this phase? You couldn’t even lose those repulsive piercings? Even just for a couple dinners? Maybe if you did, the Gojos would have been more keen to welcome you into their family.”

Beep beep beep.

She continues, taking a step closer towards you, and you feel the room get smaller like the walls are shifting in, “We had him. Him and the rest of his family in the palm of our hands. You were so close to marrying him and fixing all our problems and then you ruined it. This is all your fault.”

Your mother’s voice grows louder, pitchier, more shrill, and you clutch your dress tight in your fists. She’s been drinking. You don’t know how you didn’t notice until now but she reeks of alcohol. Perhaps, the natural smell of death and deep levels of sanitation that permeates the air of this hospital masked that scent of hers she never bothered to try to shake off. 

“Why couldn’t you just be a good girl, hmm?” Her hand reaches for your face and you flinch. Ice cold, her touch brings the hairs on the back of your neck to a standstill. It’s been many years since she had last touched you, in any kind of soft, maternal way at least, and this foreign feeling leaves you holding your breath. 

“Why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? Flirt a little, flash him a smile, slide those legs and let him take what he needed. Anything! Anything to make him yours. The way I did with your father.”

Falling to your chest, her hand curls, digging itself into your dress and you stagger forward with her powerful yank. You gasp. And then, eyes wide, you clutch your heart, watching the lace collar that had once been a part of you dangle in her grasp. She casts it aside. 

A cry rises up her throat, like bile, and she spews it at you. “Boys like him only want one thing, my dear. Do you know what it is? Did I ever teach you?”

Her nails are sharp. 

You notice that as she leans forward, skimming them against your cheek once more. Clammy, you feel the material of your gloves stick to your skin and you feel a sudden itch to keep it on even in death. There’s no one here. Nurses rarely come to check up on this room, not when the patient has so little wants and needs. And there’s not anyone you can text and call, no one who’d understand, who’d come at the drop of a hat.

“Answer me!” 

She wrenches your sleeve in a blur, her movements jerky and sudden and too unpredictable. That too falls to the ground, lifeless. 

Beep beep beep.

Bottom lip quivering, you stammer out, “S-sex?”

You feel the burn of your cheek before you hear the sound of her palm strike you. And you sob with her, just as she soothes the skin with a cooing sound. Her expression softens and for a second, no more and no less, she actually looks like a mother. 

“No, my dear. All boys, whether that Gojo boy’s age or your father’s, want thrill. They’ll seek it anywhere. If not from their wives, then from common whores, or from sports cars, or violence, or casinos, like your daddy — it’s why we needed you to marry that boy, remember? We have no money, our family’s fortune is scattered in the vaults of seedy casinos all over the city. We needed their money, to get back to where we used to be. They were our last chance.”

“L-last? B-but the wedding’s still happening, isn’t it?”

Was that even your voice? 

It sounded so meek, so frail, so young. 

“No, dear.” Her smile is sharp, one corner stabbing into your heart and the other twisting. “This morning, your little fiancé went to the press and informed them that you two were so-called victims of a forced engagement and would like the public’s support to maintain your ‘liberty’. The Gojos have already begun doing damage control, claiming that you broke up with him and he’s a classic college student — drunk and seeking revenge. So that’s that of your love story. Such a shame.”

Beep beep beep.

“B-but he wouldn’t. No, he wants to be with me, h-he just needed some time to cool down.”

You’re running out of breath, you can feel it seeping out of your lungs. It’s too tight in here, there are too many machines making all sorts of noises, and you just need air, you need something, anything. There’s nothing to clutch, nowhere to lean against, and when you turn to the one other person there, the eyes you wish would look at you aren’t. 

Beep beep beep.

There’s simply no way Satoru would go to the media. No, he was finally accepting the marriage, accepting you. You were so sure of it. It was clear as day in his eyes. You could even feel it pulse in that minuscule gap between you when he had fitted your gloves back onto your hands. 

He can’t be done with you. 

He just can’t. 

Beep beep beep.

Holding up a bedpan, she inspects her face in the reflection and her lips purse once more. Taunting, she giggles. “Oh, but all women learn eventually that time does nothing for us.”

She’s ran out of steam, much faster than she usually does, and even though parts of your dress lay in tatters on the hospital floor, you feel fortunate that she hadn’t decided to rip out your heart instead. You’re not sure she’d find anything in your chest cavity anyways. 

Detached once more, she slurs with bewildering high, “Don’t look so deviated, goodness. You’ll forget all about that Gojo boy soon. You must. Because you’ll be marrying into the Zenins. A nice, young man, just a little older than you. I believe his name is Naoya.”

The blood drains from your body. 

“No,” you gasp out. “No, mother. I can’t. H-he’s abusive. You know this. Everyone knows this. He’s sadistic and cruel a-and —“

Beep beep beep.

“And he’s on the market looking for a wife.” She cuts you a look, one that forces your mouth shut. It’s a talent of hers. “The Zenins reached out. Apparently, whatever’s good enough for the Gojo’s is good enough for them. What great luck, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

Beep beep beep.

You’ve heard stories of how he used women like dolls, dressing them up and tearing them down as he pleased. There’s always scandals and blind items making rounds online about girls he’d left battered and bruised, disoriented and silenced by copious amounts of money. A man like him would never love you. He’d never even respect you. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it would turn out like this. Having met the man once, at some yacht, a couple years ago, you recall the pure repulsion in his eyes when you bumped into him. He saw the beginnings of your true style coming in, like adult teeth, and something flashed in his eyes. A recognition of your rarity in these parts. A sparkle of challenge. A barely restrained desire. 

You could never forget the way he had looked at you — you were a trophy at the end of a marathon and there was a spot in his collection waiting just for you. 

Like a fool, a naive, pathetic little fool, you thought you had outran him. That, in the arms of another man, a stronger, richer man, you’d be safe. But that man doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

You’re alone.

Beep beep beep.

Sighing, she makes a tutting sound and focuses back on you. “I did say to behave, no? I told you it was in our best interest that you drag that boy up to the altar no matter what, and you failed your duty as a daughter. This is the consequences of your actions, dear. But despite your frightening appearance, you’re still desired. How nice. So, smile, yes? You’re getting married, after all.”

A machine flatlines. It’s not Asahi’s heart who fails and dies right there and then. You don’t even hear anything but that incessant beeeeeeeeeeeeep that knocks you back into your seat, jaw slack and cheek stinging.

“When?”

She smiles again. 

“Tomorrow!”

[diceroll65]

unexpected guest - b.e

billie eilish x fem! reader

a/n: little blurb for u 💋

summary: you walk to the kitchen after a long night, where you are met with billie's mom dropping off leftovers of billie's favorite from the night before. billie was already aware of her mom coming over... clearly you were not!

warnings: mention of previous sexual encounter, sensual acts, second hand embarrassment, indication of smut, etc

it is 10:12am, you wake up, looking under the covers rediscovering the evidence of last night's activity of choice. you look over to see the top of billie's bare back, the rest of her figure covered with the off-white duvet. you look over to realize your glass of water is now empty, so you decide to go to the kitchen. billie's house is freezing, so you grab the closest piece of attire. billie's red jersey hangs loosely on your shoulders, your hair now in a rushed updo. you grab the glass on the side table, and open the door to billie's room.

you go straight for the fridge, holding your glass under the water dispenser. all of a sudden, you hear keys being inserted into the door lock, instantly freezing. you quietly set your glass down on the adjacent counter. you then hear the familiar footsteps of none other than maggie, billie's mom. she whips her head to see you standing there, in nothing but billie's jersey. of course, it was long enough to cover everything but you still feel exposed. "hey y/n! just dropping off some noodle soup for billie" she says, with a sweet smile. you can't help but to smile back, despite your feeling of indecency. "aw that's sweet! i've heard such great things about that soup. i'll let her know you dropped it off" you say, twiddling your thumbs. "i assume she's still sleeping" she laughs, looking over to billie's bedroom door. "oh yeah, she is sleeping like a baby" you giggle, not realizing what you said and now leaving room for maggie to wonder why she is sleeping so well. she smiles and reaches out to grab your arm. "well it was wonderful seeing you, honey. i have to run some errands, tell billie to call me!" she says, bringing you into a tight embrace. you rub maggie's back, giving a little "i will" as she turns to face the door.

you hear the door the latch of the door, and immediately run back into the bedroom. your face is now beet red, as you begin to shake billie gently, but vigorously. "hmmm" billie mumbles as her eyes slowly open to reveal her glassy orbs. "your mom just saw me... like this" you say, dipping your head down to emphasize your lack of clothes. billie eyes widen a little "oh yeah, she did mention dropping by this morning on the phone last night" she says, as she slightly tilts her head remaining eye contact. "you didn't think to mention this maybe i don't know, last night?" you say, in a frightened shriek. while you are mortified, billie is amused, letting out a soft chuckle. "billie that was so embarrassing, oh my god" you say, your hands falling into your hands. billie sits up a little, stretching while simultaneously reaching for your hands. "babe, we're adults" billie laughs "plus, this is my place it's fine"

"just let me know next time maybe?" you ask softly, gazing at her with a plush expression, evident through your eyes. "mhmmm" she says, taking in a deep breath, leaving prolonged pecks along the side of your neck.

"i would've loved to seen how flustered you were" billie says, biting your shoulder. "how are you still horny?" you ask, laughing as you turn around to wrap your arms around her neck.

@bitchybananaflower to be added to taglist, comment ⭐︎

[glamourscat]

hii hope you are well! I was wondering if you can do a fic about rin (from blk) first time with reader and it’s really soft and new to him if not that’s okay! Thank you byee<33

FIRSTs | RIN ITOSHI X READER

a/n: I am extremely sorry for the wait. Classes are kicking my butt. I hope you like it, I tried to give it a bit of a “twist”. | smut at the end |

Rin wasn’t even sure why he was here. Truly, he hated all of them. Okay, maybe hated was a strong word. Perhaps saying he held grudges against some, if not all of them, was a more appropriate fit.

He had never been good at expressing himself, at opening up. In fact, in his entire life, only one person had ever managed to break through that barrier and that was Sae. But then he left. And for some obscure reason, you managed to do it too. With your kindness and resilience, you never stopped showing him that you cared, putting him in his place when necessary. And that only made him more drawn to you.

But back to the main issue. Camping.

It was summer and he had just returned to Japan from his football season. Coincidentally, his ex-Blue Lock… friends? No, scratch that, nuisances, were also back in Japan and had organized this big camping trip with everyone and their respective partners.

He could hear Reo in the background huffing at Nagi, who was refusing to help set up their tent. Bachira… well, being Bachira. And the others were being loud as usual. His eyes found yours, a silent plea of Can we please make a run for it?

You chuckled quietly as you met his gaze.

“C’mon—you dragged me here to begin with. It’s going to be okay,” you teased, though your tone held gentle reassurance.

“But—” he huffed, pouting. “They’re already getting on my nerves.”

“Rin, we literally placed our tent as far away as possible from the others. We are almost in the river. It’s going to be fine. If you get a migraine, we can leave, kay?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He mumbled a quiet okay, or at least, you thought he did. As he turned his face away, unwilling to show you the way his cheeks flushed red at the light contact of your lips.

Eventually the tent was finally set up. By the time everything was settled, it was already late. After having dinner together, everyone went their separate ways to their respective tents.

Your eyes flicked to Rin’s figure as he changed, his green eyes meeting yours with a hidden glint of amusement.

“Take a picture,” he said smugly, though he made no effort to hide the way your gaze affected him.

“I’m not staring,” you huffed, slightly flustered as you continued putting on your pajamas.

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, amused, as he settled under your shared sleeping bag.

He wasn’t exactly sure how it happened.

One moment, it was you grumbling, “You’re taking up all the space,” and him biting back, “No, I’m not.” The back and forth went on for some time until, somehow, he ended up on top of you, both of you panting after an intense tickling session. Your lips were still curled into a smile, but then the position you found yourselves in fully sank in.

It wasn’t like… you two hadn’t done anything before. But it had never gone this far. Yet here he was, straddling your lap, his messy hair falling into his eyes, his breath unsteady. And then there was the other thing. The painfully obvious erection pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you let out quietly, your eyes searching his.

“I—I’m sorry,” he gulped, trying to move away, but you stopped him.

“No—I mean… we—if—” You sighed, embarrassed. “I don’t… mind. We can… you know.”

“You sure?” he whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

“More than sure,” you whispered back with a soft smile.

Yeah, no. You hadn’t anticipated having your first time in a tent, much less on a camping trip with Rin’s so-called archenemies a few feet away. Maybe putting the tent so far away had been a sign.

His lips found yours as you both tried to stay quiet, swallowing each other’s moans. His hands cupped your cheeks, his cock rubbing along your slit, sending shivers down your spine.

“I—I… just tell me if it hurts, okay? I’ll stop—just… I want to make you feel good. I have no idea what I am doing, just— I just want to make you happy,” he murmured against your lips.

With a reassuring smile and a nod from your end, his tip slowly pushed in, parting your wet folds. A gasp left your guys lips at the unfamiliar sensation. Heavens. He was already and embarrassingly close. He looked at the top of the tent, trying and desperately failing, to think about anything else but how perfect you fit around him. He took his time, moving with slow, careful thrusts. Your tummy felt warm. As something was ready to explode. And then an involuntary moan escaped you.

“Good?” he asked, his voice huskier now, fighting back an amused smile.

“Yes—fuck. Yes,” you nodded, your hands gripping his back, pulling him closer as his movements started matching yours. Slightly faster, deeper.

The tent filled with quiet gasps, muffled moans, and the sound of skin meeting skin. It was intense in the best way. He was so soft with you, tracing his fingertips along your skin, kissing your neck, whispering how much he loved you. And you were pretty sure he was almost in tears as he finished, that’s how good it was. Not to mention the obscene moan that left his lips, such a sweet melody to your ears.

It was trust. Two souls melting into one in the most primal way. As he kept moving, pushing deeper, slower, faster. He was getting lost in the feeling of his cock in between your warm walls, struggling to keep silent. And lowkey cursing himself for waiting until now to do it, especially location wise.

He didn’t know much, but he did know he wanted this again and again. This feeling, this closeness, forever.

To be two in one. To get lost in each other.

——————————————————————————

Morning came far too quickly for Rin’s liking. But after enough convincing, you managed to drag him to breakfast with the others. He sipped his tea quietly, subtly leaning into you, until Isagi spoke.

“Did you guys hear that last night? There were some strange noises. I think some wild animals must have been near the campsite.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t just me and Nagi who heard it then,” Reo said, looking up from his phone.

Rin’s eyes locked onto yours. But before either of you could even think, Shidou’s voice cut through the open space.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry. That was just me and Sae having s—”

The sentence went unfinished as Sae grabbed him by the ear, dragging him away while Shidou yelped in protest. Laughter erupted around the group.

Well.

A wild animal had been out last night, indeed. If you could say that.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[tou-dai]

There are people who keep doing fucked up things

Like rape, abuse, being a nazi etc

If you want them to live among people "like normal", I totally respect that

I think everyone should be safe, healthy, and free

I don't remember what quote it was tho. Something like, "your freedom ends where mine begins"?

I've had 8 concussions so you'll have to excuse me (one of them being from my abusive ex wife, a relationship in which i was .. damn. Only a victim of a crime/series of crimes)

Anyway

Point is i think people saying "separate these people from us in a humane a way as possible" is very reasonable

Considering some of these people do not want to be reformed

I think anyone who is compassionate and considerate of the consequences -- one way or another -- would much rather these people (no matter their demographic) be treated kindly

To be given what they need

But also: do not allow them to hurt others!!!

This is harm reduction!

I think the issue people have

Why they clutch their pearls

Is because we've all done fucked up things

Perhaps for extended periods, knowing, being in our emotions or whatever

Maybe just being ignorant and/or unwell

So we don't want to be exiled or put in jail!

And no one should have their safety, health, and freedom fucked with!!!

But now what?? It's 2025 and you have some of the worst human beings to have existed to be at the helm

Why?

Not only that: but there are people who support and relate to them, no matter what evil shit they do!!

Yall

We need to have a truly real conversation about our acceptance of intolerance and fucked up behavior in various forms

And where we draw the line

Because humanity is going to keep having this happen until we do

Edit bc I think this needs to be said, too:

There are people who want to abuse and people who want to be abused

Just like that old song (which i love ngl)

And i think everyone has a place or inherent worth

It's just our world is not designed to bring the best out of people or nurture them well

But people are also disingenuous about stuff -- they lie to themselves and others about things

Like how good or bad they are. Whether there is such a thing. Where the bar is. When it's appropriate to talk about it etc

Like many many people would say Elon/Trump need to just die

But there are many others who support them and fascism

Exactly what do you propose we do with such people?

With their votes?

How can we help them?

There are disabled minorities, like myself, who are seen as degenerates or useless

But we have many talents and ideas which are amazing

We are not afforded the opportunity to be who and what we are

Yet these assholes are at the helm

What to make of this?

We are fighting.

Who is fighting and how hard? Doesn't that depend on circumstances and constitution?

If you gave me 1 million dollars, I'd keep 100k and give the rest away.

How many could say that?

But people would judge those like me, who have destroyed themselves, body mind and soul

Just to survive

Or to be seen as human

..

I guess we'll have to see how this goes

venmo: @torchport

cashapp: $onepeaceman

"so youre saying we should just allow rapists and abusers to remain in society?" where else would they go ⁉️😭🙏 so confused can you show me this place outside of society

[wizlizbelle3]

My void success story and the only post you will ever need.

Hello everyone. Before I begin, I just want to inform everyone that I will not be answering any dms moving forward. I might not even come back to the app. Not because I don't want to help people, but because I have realized that being on this app made me sink into negativity. People constantly affirming negativity and dumping it on other people, drama with who's fake and who isn't, bots spamming asks, people wanting me to tell them everything I've already written in simpler words. It's too much. I know it's hard for you to get through your situation. I know you want what you want now. So use this post and stick to it because it is the LAST thing you will ever need.

I began my void journey a while ago and did literally everything you could possibly imagine. Here are the things I tried:

affirming 10,000 times

affirming 60,000 times

lullaby method

sats

mental diet

self concept

meditation

psyche-k

silva method

monroe method

neville's method

and more

None of it worked until recently. Just to clarify, that the one thing that finally pushed me into the void was SATS but I realized that everything I had been doing was crap because I was not doing it correctly.

So I was on reddit and I saw a success story of how this woman manifested what she wanted before her specific desired date, So I gave myself 20 days or so and wrote down a specific date. I persisted, affirmed and did everything to stay positive and asked the universe to give me signs and show me things. Listened to like 17 subliminals at the same time on my computer for hours. And guess what? When that day came, I did not wake up in the void state. I cried and was really upset because there are people out here who want to hurt others and they get into the void easily. So why not me?

I finally decided on that same morning after I finished crying that I was not going to be a p*ssy and will get exactly what I want, when I want it, how I want it, and get into the void state easily. I did not affirm this to myself. I wrote it down as a letter to my higher self. I was done waiting and I told my higher self and the universe that I am done waiting. What exactly is the problem? Why can I specifically not get what I want? Am i really that bad of a person?

No, I was just weak and I victimized myself for absolutely no reason. I don't care what the 3D shows me. Why would any of that affect me? I feel so stupid for acting like the negativity and nonsense that people around me spewed was actually supposed to affect me???? NO!.

I came across this video by manifesting with missy renee and in the video she said that most people don't do sats correctly and I completely agree with it. You are supposed to wait until you're groggy and actually in a trance. I kept stressing in all my previous posts that you're supposed to do this and that and none of you got it and neither did I. We were all stupid (some of you still are for pretending you don't understand). So the correct way to do SATS is:

get into a position where you don't usually sleep

RELAXXXXXXX. Do anything to make yourself relaxed and this can very well take up to 20-30 minutes. Stop acting like that's a bad thing.

When you are in SATS, your scene should come in easy. You don't have to stress it. If you have to strain to put your scene together, you are not in SATS.

So that's what I did. I think i used a meditation by Life by Lucie. I used one where the timing was good for me. Also, in that same day I used hypnodaddy's clear negative and get rid of victim mentality subliminals. I also used high frequency guru's void state video. Not because I wanted the subliminals to take me to the void. Just because I WANTED.

I'm telling you, you have to be aggressive as hell. So I did SATS, I was confident that I will wake up in the void, and then I did. I manifested my void list and i made the list because I didn't want to affirm for every single thing.

You have to have enough. That's the key. You have to put your foot down and say WTAF is this???? randoms keep getting into the void but not me??? NO NO NO NO NO

And do not ask me how to relax. I've made so many posts on SATS and it's hurtful that you guys ignore it so hard.

You wanna cry because it didn't happen? fine cry. Then go back to being aggressive. Use your pissed off state to be confident that you'll get what you want.

And your sats scene can be what feels good to you in that moment. It WILL come to you. Period. I'll answer questions ONLY IN THE COMMENTS. don't be shy. but I cannot go through the mental torture of being trauma dumped. Everybody's got their own thing and you're not going to get into the void if you tell your sorrows to people. You're going to get into the void when you decide you will. It's that easy. Im linking some stuff below, use it if you want. I really hope you get the message I'm trying to send here.

NO tags because this will find you at the right moment in your life.

[lowkeyerror]

Late Night Calls

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Notes: Reuqested, fluff

Summary: Agatha wants you to stop working and come to bed.

Masterlist

Agatha was practicing her patience. That’s what she told herself as she paced back and forth in your bedroom. It had been hours of her waiting, hoping to get some of your company. The one thing in her way was your stupid job. Agatha was not a fan of the long hours you spent on your computer or talking to idiots on the phone.

It was torture, knowing that you were just a few rooms away, but not being able to bother you. Well, she could and often, she did. Which is why tonight she was trying to be patient.

However, she knew that you should’ve been done by now. Your 8-hr shift should’ve been completed nearly an hour ago. So it shouldn’t be a big deal if she were to pop into your study, and wait for you to finish in there.

Agatha walked over to your study, cracking the door ever so slightly. The screen of your desktop dimly lights the room. You’re sat at the desk with your phone to your ear, mumbling about things that Agatha didn’t care to comprehend.

She slipped into the room closing the door behind her softly. Though she was careful, you’re aware of her presence. She smiles brightly when you flash her a quick grin.

With one of your free hands you motion her closer to you. She has to hold back a yelp as you pull her into your lap while you continue your conversation.

Your arm wraps around her midsection keeping her in place. Agatha is sat with her back to you. You figured she’d keep herself busy, playing on the computer, while you talked.

For a while that worked. She did a few online quizzes, played a few word searches, she even put on some headphones to watch a YouTube video.

You knew her patience was wearing thin when she started squirming in your lap. You lightly squeezed her hip to signal for her to stop. You heard the huff of annoyance she let out, but decided to ignore it.

The older woman turns in your lap, so that now she’s straddling you. The words that you were saying into the phone get stuck in your throat for a moment.

Agatha smirks at that reaction. She takes your free hand and slides it under her pajama shirt. You try to keep your eyes stern as you glare at her, but you fail miserably. The softness of her skin never ceases to amaze you.

You pull your hand from under shirt to mute the phone call for a moment.

“Ags, I’m almost done sweetheart. Just let me finish up real quick and I’ll come to bed.”

She steals a kiss from you, “It’s been nearly 2 hours since you were supposed to be done with work.”

“I know, I know, but this is a really important call, baby.”

Agatha pouts and it almost compels you to end the call right then. The voice on the other line saying hello, snaps you out of it. You give Agatha an apologetic look before unmuting, and resuming the call.

The older woman sighs. She grabs your hand and starts playing with your fingertips. She begins to trace patterns, trying to stop her disinterest. Her tiredness starts to get to her.

She tries to stand up, but you keep her in place. Your tired eyes meet hers as you mouth the word ‘stay’. She rolls her eyes, but leans in so her head is buried in your shoulder.

Agatha can’t help herself as she places feather light kisses on the side of your neck. You don’t seem to mind it. That is until she nibbles on your earlobe, “Come to bed.”

She feels your body shiver underneath her, which pulls a smile from her. She pulls back to look at you fully. Her hands slide innocently under your shirt, just resting on your stomach. She sees you exhale deeply, her warm hands against your cold abdomen.

As the person on the other line talks, she can see your eyes getting heavy. Agatha begins to wonder if you’re even awake as small lines leave your mouth ever so often, like an automated message response.

Her hand cups your face, and you sleepily lean into her touch.

Agatha takes the phone out of your hand and mutes the call. Your eyes shoot open fully as you reach to take the phone back from her.

“Enough phone time for tonight. It’s late, you’re falling asleep, and I want to cuddle in bed.”

You don’t argue with her. She places the phone back in your hand, “Mr. Stark, I’m going to have let you go, now. It’s pretty late, do you think we can resume this conversation tomorrow?”

The phone call ends and you close your eyes, leaning into Agatha. You inhale her scent, which helps your entire body relax. After a moment you stand, the woman still in your hold.

She scrambles to get a better hold on you, but you'd never drop her.

“Let’s go to bed,” you kiss the top of her head as you walk to the bedroom.

Agatha mumbles something incoherently into your neck as you reach the bedroom. You’re careful as you lay her down. She makes a gesture grabbing towards you, and you chuckle.

“I’ll be in, in a second, I'm just changing into something comfy.”

When you climb into the bed, her arms around you in an instant. She pulls you into her, tired eyes opening just to get a peek at you.

You kiss her softly. It’s a delicate thing as your lips move together. It’s the kind of kiss you share, when the night is over. No fiery hunger or neediness, just the overwhelming calm of love.

“No more late-night calls from Stark, you call him first thing in the morning,” Agatha snuggles into you.

“Yes ma'am,” you say playfully.

You feel her pull back a little, just enough to meet your eyes, “I love you.”

You’d never grow tired of kissing her, so you do it once more. It’s brief, when your lips touch her’s.

“I love you too.”

The rest of the night is spent in each other’s arms. The last thought that trails through your mind is that you won’t be doing any work tomorrow. All you want to do is stay in this position as long as you can with the love of your life.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why praising someone’s fic while at the same time tearing down other writers’ fics may not be the positive comment you think it is

first of all, I feel like I should be bringing this up because I’ve gotten comments where people praise my works (which I appreciate) while in those same comments they later say what they dislike about other writers’ fanfics, in a rather harsh manner, and while I know my commenters probably don’t have any ill intentions towards me, and while they never actually name the writers whose works they don’t like, I still don’t agree with and I certainly don’t condone the way they trash talk other writers’ fanfics either. so I think I should just bring this up, not to attack or target anyone specifically, but to hopefully make general readers see why comments like these are… not actually helpful to anybody.

before we begin, I also like to humbly point out that comments I’m talking about aren’t “oh it’s so hard to find a fic this good” or “your work is better than most of the fics I’ve read” because personally I think comments like these are harmless, not because I think my fic is “that good”, not because I think my work is “better than others”, but because no other writers were insulted and if my readers say they prefer my work — it’s all personal preference — then I’m honored, and the last thing I wanna be is a Comment Police, but I’ve unfortunately seen a lot of comments, especially lately, where other writers were rudely insulted in the name of praising the writer whose work is being commented on. I’m not gonna provide screenshots because I’m not gonna put a target on anybody’s back, but here’s to give an example of what I’m talking about,

“I like your work so much. It’s so hard to find a fic this good when most of the (insert character’s name) fics I’ve read are so bad and so out of character. I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my laptop away. It feels like reading a garbage written by a bunch of five year-old kids or something. I wish I could set those trash on fire. Your work is not like those shitty fics though and it’s amazing to finally see a good fic.”

this is the kind of comments I’m talking about. because for me, personally, I don’t actually feel good receiving a comment like this, even though the commenter praises me and never actually mentions other writers, whose works they dislike, by names.

and again, the last thing I ever wanna be is a Comment Police, because I usually appreciate every comment I got, no matter if it’s just a heart emoji or a simple sentence like “I liked this”, I love and appreciate them all. but here we go;

WHY INSULTING OTHER WRITERS IN THE NAME OF PRAISING A WRITER WHOSE WORK YOU COMMENT ON IS NOT A POSITIVE COMMENT

comment like this can put a harmful pressure on the writer whom you praised and make them think that they now have to be extra careful to make sure their work is “good enough to please you”, otherwise they might get torn to shreds too. and instead of writing for themself for fun, which should be the most important thing about writing fanfics, they now feel like they have to write because they have to be good enough to earn their readers’ approval. and that just sucks out all the joy of doing something that was supposed to be a hobby, something writers do out of love and passion and not because they were pressured into doing, not because they were pressured into “being good enough and staying good enough”.

“if you’re this comfortable insulting other writers under my work, how can I know you’re not insulting me and my work under someone else’s comments section?” is a valid thought the writer you praised may have, even if they were too polite to tell you that.

“I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my phone away.” how do you know the writer you praised hasn’t already written something like this in their drafts? how do you know they don’t plan on writing something that you deem “cringe and out of character”? it may not be your intention, but your comment certainly can be read as a subtle “hey, don’t you dare write something like this because I don’t like it!!!! I better not see it from you!!!” I shouldn’t have to tell you how entitled this is.

“this is so out of character” if a writer wants to write their favorite character like this, they can. why? because they write whatever they want and they write for themself, not for you.

fanfiction is not — and never will be — your average novel you see while visiting a bookstore, buy it with your money and bitch about it when it turns out the book is not to your liking. because fanfiction is free. fanfic writers write for themselves and for fun. fanfic writers write whatever they wanna write, because they themselves are their own primary audiences. not you. they’re only kind enough to share with you their works. for free. if you dislike a fic, keep that to yourself and move on to something you do like. don’t be entitled by insulting something you got for free, something that wasn’t even made for you at all.

you obviously can dislike a fic. of course, it’s your opinion. I mean I won’t say I like every fic I’ve ever read, but the thing about disliking a fic is that you can just exit said fic, forget about it and move on to something else without feeling the need to insult the work or the writer, be it directly or indirectly, because, again, fanfiction is not a movie you watch on Netflix or a book you bought with your money. fanfiction is an art, a hobby and a passion created by an artist for the artist themself.

a reminder that comments are public for everyone to see, not just the writer you praise. so while you didn’t mention any other writers whom you insulted by names, there’s always a chance of innocent writers finding your comment and thinking the part where you insult other writers’ works is about their works. and that can very negatively affect them too.

fanfiction doesn’t have to be “good enough for you, random reader”. fanfiction just has to bring the writers joy. and that’s what make a fic good enough.

if you really enjoy someone’s work, tell them that you enjoy their work, tell them what you like about their work. don’t turn their comments section into your own space where you can vent and trash talk other writers, because you are bringing that negativity to the writer whose work you said you enjoyed. and I can only speak for myself but, as a writer, I don’t enjoy seeing my comments section turn into a negative and unkind space where my fellow writers are being insulted.