#i want them to get the love they so desperately need and deserve

[forgot-my-line]

By actively making posts that put people down and make a public space feel unsafe, unwelcoming or not open/accepting of someone, you are doing the exact same things they are. If it's bad when they do it, it's bad when you do it. It's not a one-way street. You are being just as bad as they are.

I completely agree that we don't owe them Respect. They didn't show us any. I do, though, wholeheartedly believe that there isn't a single person ever who doesn't deserve basic human decency. That includes feeling safe in spaces that are open to literally any and everyone. And yea sure, most aren't helping, but what about the ones who are at least trying? what about the trump voters who are donating to trans health donation centers? or the trump voters who didn't get a say (for personal safety or other reasons) or were spoonfed misinformation, who are trying to right things now? Do they not count for something?

I'm also not saying we have to coddle anyone. I'm saying if we could stop making public spaces unsafe for some people, regardless if you like, love, hate or despise them, that would be just peachy. These spaces are where some people go to escape other oppressive forces, don't add to the list of people they have to avoid. Actually, in fact, don't coddle them. That won't help. What won't help either though, is isolating them. If we isolate people, we do the same thing as the people you are so against. You are being just as bad as they are.

Not every person who voted againt Harris is a bad person. I apoligize if this fact is upsetting to you. Some trump voters, as touched on ealier, weren't in a position where they could vote how they wanted to. I am well aware that this is a very hard subject to come to terms with. Not everyone has to see things like abuse or manipulation first hand but that doesn't mean it isn't a real thing that actively affects choices and decisions. Sometimes the only thing they could do to avoid voting for Trump, was to withhold from voting or vote third party. They didn't get a choice so why make them feel worse about it.

It's been made more than clear that these are the consequences of what happened at the election. Not only has it been spelt out for everone, their dead grandma, and their pet fish, but it's been spoonfed to each and every one of them. Repeating the same things over and over and over again only make people sick of listening to you. They'll see and hear how upset you and everyone are regardless

As for standing up for what's important to me, Unity has to be pretty high on my list. Sorry if my standing behind that ideal upsets you. Change isn't gonna happen if you stand alone, acting as if the entire world is against you. Rome wasn't built by a single person, just as it wasn't built in a single day. You need to have people in your corner.

As you said, Change doesn't magically happen. People work for each and every change that has happened, big or small. Shaming and tearing people down doesn't have to be a part of that work. I'm not saying shaming people won't get the results you so desperately want, I'm saying that there are much better ways of getting people to realize they are wrong and/or need to change than making public spaces an unsafe space to be and to make people feel worse about themselves than they already do.

It wasn't just this particular post that was the issue, but the fact that no matter how many political opinions and posts I ignored completely and scrolled past, posts like these still showed up on my dash. My passion is my compassion and ability to care for everyone. I'd much rather live in a world where every single living thing feels safe, at least in my presence, than getting into silly arguments with random strangers on Tumblr dot com. Responses like these are not only condescending, they actively miss the entire point I was making.

[hitomisuzuya]

hello! i saw requests were open, may i request brat-tamer!wanderer with brat!reader? reader is an akademiya official (maybe the librarian?) and has been teasing and penting him up all day, and when wanderer confronts reader about going home and getting whats deserved, reader tells him they cant because their working hours arent over... so wanderer decides enough is enough and fucks reader somewhere semi-secluded in the house of daena? with some degradation & choking? (can add anything else if you want~) much love 🫶

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut. degradation. choking. creampie. semi public sex. brat taming.

😳 i meant to write this yesterday, but bad weather, an exploded transformer and no power for like about 8 hours stopped me.

wanderer threw his head back, swallowing a moan as he rutted into your hand pumping on his cock. "that desperate for my cock, and attention, huh?" he hissed, grabbing your hand to wrap it firmer on his cock. he let out a shaky sigh of frustration when you shook his hand away, massaging your thumb on his leaking cock head.

"what's wrong, scara?"you cooed softly in his ear behind him, "you can't handle a little teasing?" you increased the pumps of your hand for a few moments, giving him the sweet friction of your hand that his cock craved.

he balled his hand into a fist. you were making his cock ache so much that he was losing his patience, "you teasing slut," he managed to finish. "we are leaving. now. you need to put in your place for," his words fell away into a soft moan tinged with further frustration as you stroked his cock feather light, "teasing me all fucking day."

being a library official that put returns back on the shelves, it was easy for you to teasing wanderer behind the bookshelves. "sorry, sweetheart, but work hours aren't over yet," you took your hand out of his shorts, and kissed him on the cheek. "i'll see you at home."

wanderer's mouth was agape as he turned to look at you, his eyes hooded into a glare that quite frankly made your pussy clench. "oh? i think i'll stick around here for awhile longer," there was a lot of weight behind his words.

you soon found that out. with a delighted smile, you thought you could continue teasing him for a few more hours. but boy, how wrong you are. you didn't expect for wanderer to turn the tables on you. and he wasn't going to give you an inch.

now the shoe was on the other foot. a few hours later, wanderer had you turned around, your hands gripping the bookshelf as he pounded his cock into you from behind. his fingers wrapped around your throat as you threw your head back, his cock head kissing into your sweet spot relentlessly. "you brat. did you think i was going to let you get away with this, whore?" his fingers prodded against your throat, tearing a moan that you couldn't swallow from you.

wanderer couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "you should stay quiet. or do you want everyone in the house of daena to see me impaling you on my cock?" he trapped your wrists together in his free hand, pinning them to the bookshelf, his cock making almost unholy squelching noises in and out of your pussy. "they will find out that their sweet, shy nerd who shelves returns is a total slut," his groan of pleasure as your cunt squeezed around his cock spoke volumes how good it felt to finally stretch your pussy apart.

you mewl as you push back into his cock. "ah! please. fuck me harder," you struggle to moan as best you could, shivering as his fingers tightened on your throat.

wanderer let go your wrists, bringing his hand down across your ass. "you brat, teasing me all day and thinking you can dictate how hard i fuck you," he obliged your pathetic plea, though. your cunt clenching around his cock just felt so fucking good.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your orgasm building up intense and fast the more he squeezed. but don't worry, he would choke you just enough to still hear you struggle to moan to for him. his cock only throbbed harder witnessing your body quake as his cock bullied your sweet spot.

wanderer smacked a hand across your ass again, soothing the sting with his palm. "what's wrong, hunny," he purred in a sweet, condescending voice. "can't handle it? i should've put you on your knees first for your insolence," nothing saying he couldn't ruin your throat once you got home later.

your pussy squeezed around his cock just right. he increased his pace, shuddering in pleasure as his cock roped cum inside of you. "tell me, slut, do you wanna cum?" he asked, licking the shell of your ear as his hips continued to smack against yours.

you nodded as best you could, eagerly pushing back against his cock as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. his fingers tightened on your throat a little more, his hand drifting down to your clit. it was almost embarrassing how little it took to make you cum hard on his cock.

with a few calculated pinches and flicks to your throbbing clit, the knot of your orgasm shattered like glass. through the dizzying haze of pleasure, you are quite certain you would've screamed for him.

wanderer smirked behind you, rubbing your clit while he fucked you through your orgasm. your body felt limp and relaxed in his grip. submissive. "good girl," he praised, pulling out and licking his lips as cum seeped from your abused hole. "you know your place again."

[darlingkikki]

omg, late to your ghoap post but au where you’re just crying asking if johnny doesn’t love you or take the relationship seriously because he kissed someone else while ghost is sitting there waiting for his kiss. thinks you’re so pretty hiccuping and crying but damn he wants that kiss already

Warnings: Manipulative Ghost, bitch boy Johnny (lmao but seriously), dubcon (mostly for the illusion of choice but the kiss is consensual)

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I am in a writing funk but I forced myself to at least explore more of this because I so badly want to but my brain is mush :( (not edited so just focus on the vibes)

initial post linked here

Something dark and insatiable claws at the inside of Ghost’s skull. To repress it, his blunt nails bite into his palms. He watches Johnny’s hands cup your crestfallen face, his expression knotted with the heaviness of remorse. Above the sound of your hiccuping questions, he can just about pick up Johnny’s attempts to soothe your broken heart. 

“Course I love yeh. That hasn’t changed.” 

“Nah, dinnae say that. I did a dumb thing. I’m always doing dumb things. It’s nothin’ to do with yeh.”

“I pushed them away, just not quick enough. I didnae do anything more, I promise.” 

He’s unyielding in holding your gaze. His thumbs trace gentle, methodical circles on your cheeks, wiping away the moisture under your eyes. Selfishly, cruelly, Simon wishes you would stop sobbing already so he can take over. Johnny promised him a kiss from you, so a kiss is what he’ll be leaving with.

You seem to be a gentle, sweet thing so far, even with a pouty frown pulling the corners of your lips downwards. Sensitive too. (What other parts of you share that same description?). A few tears evade Johnny’s thumbs. They roll down the swell of your cheeks. Ghost licks his lips, imagining his tongue following the wet trails down to the collar of your shirt.

Fuck, he needs this kiss bad.

If Johnny is desperate enough for your forgiveness, maybe he can push this further with you. Convince him that a kiss isn’t enough. That you deserve—no, need something more. Johnny will be easy to sway. You, however, he’s still figuring out as Johnny calms you into soft sniffles. 

“There you go, now yer ready to meet my Lt.,” Johnny coos. He steps around you, putting his hands on either side of your face and angling you to look where Ghost has been standing this entire time. “Go on, give me hell Ghost.” 

Fucking finally. Ghost doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not when the sight of you has him sucking in a sharp breath. 

Christ, what a sight you are.

His body moves, driven by greed when you stare at him all confused and teary-eyed. His favorite combination.

“Good finally meetin’ you,” Ghost says. His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor. He hasn’t even taken his boots off.

Johnny’s fingers tighten to keep you looking straight at Ghost. Like a puppeteer, though it’s clear who has the ultimate hold on the strings. 

“Why is he here?” You ask, trying and failing to turn your head towards Johnny. Nope, not yet. It’s Ghost’s turn now and Johnny bows out of the equation.

Their positions have switched seamlessly, like dancers performing around your body. Or soldiers following a meticulous plan only they are privy to. The smell of alcohol leaves your nostrils, replaced by mint and heady tobacco. It's sense whiplash and your confusion makes for an excellent distraction from your heartache. A distraction Ghost can use to worm his way in.

“I’m here to make it better,” Simon answers after a beat. His eyes are devilishly dark, indistinguishable from a starless night sky. Inky like pools of tar. He says your name with the familiarity of a lover. An undeniable hunger laces his voice and a shudder slithers down your spine. 

Oh yes, he thinks, smirking like a starving lion, you won’t need much convincing. Your reaction speaks volumes. Without waiting for your reply, he continues, “Your boyfriend's hurt you, yeah? You shouldn’t let him get away with it.”

He’s right, you know that. To forgive Johnny would only lead to a forever-repeating cycle of tears and heartache. But what choice did you have now? 

The luxury of choosing for yourself is a privilege these men have taken for themselves. 

Ghost leans in until his lips are just a hair’s breadth away. He’s dangling a carrot in front of your face—the answer to all your pain. 

Johnny's grip on your head loosens. Without it, you'd have forgotten entirely that he was still here, acting as the hard place Ghost urges you towards with a coaxing grasp on your hips, leaving you in his cage and Johnny a willful voyeur. 

He’s tied your neurons in knots, effectively cutting off any chance you have at making a less rash decision. He’s infiltrated your senses and made you his prey. No one could fault you for believing him when he tells you he’ll make it better. Let the warmth of his mouth be a band-aid for your pain and a knife in Johnny’s chest.

"Let me fix it," Ghost whispers, just before his lips are about to claim yours.

It's not a question.

[blindmagdalena]

I know you're a Homelander-centric blog, but I'm genuienly curious to hear your opinion and thoughts on Stan Edgar as a character. (This badass old man doesn't really gets recognition he deserves, tbh...)

ohhhh stan edgar...

tbh i think he gets heralded as a badass way more than he should be, and it's 100% due to the raw charisma of giancarlo esposito. that man is so goddamn likable! i love his voice, he's a superb actor. i always want to root for him regardless of the role.

but stan edgar is honestly one of the most heinous characters on the show. he's behind the majority of vought's schemes. he's vindictive and petty. he orchestrates the exploitation and abuse of god only knows how many children, plucking out the ones he deems most useful and turning them into weapons with dependency issues.

homelander and victoria ofc being the most standout examples of this. i LOOOVE the evil daddaughter thing he has going on with victoria, i love how she hates him and needs him and resents him and loves him all at once.

i think stan is at his most pathetic when dealing with homelander, though. he gets a lot of praise for standing up to homelander and talking down to him, but especially after s4, i find that laughable. he's talking to a man who's been psychologically conditioned since BIRTH to be afraid of people like stan and desperately yearn for their approval.

throughout s3 he mocked and tormented homelander like he was banging on the bars of a beaten dogs cage. he calls homelander, a man who was tortured throughout his entire childhood, "bad product."

who approved that product, stan? it just doesn't impress me to see him be so confident against someone whose buttons he knows how to press because he had a hand in creating them. he's hyper aware of the extent of trauma, and how to abuse it.

stan edgar is truly a character that i love to hate.

[murcielagatito]

just wrote the shittiest like 600 word prompt like bitch if i actually wrote this fic i could probably get a couple ks outta it but i suck at this shit so bad

[biigiiiii]

So this:

Leads to this:

Which leads to this:

Which allows vecna to do this:

Right? Right………. So then this:

Leads to this:

Which leads to:

???????????????? 👀👀👀👀👀

Will has had powers.

[actual-sleeping-beauty]

I having lots of emotions about not graduating this spring this evening and I don't appreciate it.

[chryblossomjjk]

all i wanted was u…

[timeisacephalopod]

I saw a post the other day that kinda pushed back on the way all coming of age movies are about sexuality and all high school stories basically center around who wants to fuck who and how that's like. Not really all coming of age and high school stories should offer since you know. Youth isn't about who you have a crush on and probably coming of age stories in particular should be far more diverse in subject matter than they are.

Honestly as someone who, when I was 'coming of age' age, hated coming of age stories and still do for the exact reason listed above (see the weird scene in It where we all sexualize a 13 year old girl because boys have crushes and surely there's no other way to portray this than feeling a child up with a camera to demonstrate boys have ~feelings~ Bev gets no equivalent scene because she's the object of affection rather than the subject feeling desire) I also wish there was diversity in those stories. And coming of age stories about adults- we don't stop going through huge life moments that change everything forever, but back to kids. When I was a kid I could have desperately used a coming of age story where the character has a sick and dying parent who does die by the end of the story and what happens after that. Granted I did just fine without it, but even without being asexual it's always irked me that coming of age stories don't seem to appreciate that kids have way larger problems and way better stories to tell then first crushes and first kisses for shit sake give kids who went through what I did as a kid some kind of story about what happens when your parent gets cancer and how complicated that is and stop assuming the biggest thing that happens around puberty is discovering sexuality that, if you were queer, you probably already noticed what you felt wasn't in a coming of age story anyway.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲-𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: they are your ex hubby and baby daddy and they want you back, make up sex, monster fucking with true form!sukuna - why let something like logic stop me from being horny when we can have the king of curses for a baby daddy, jealous!possessive!Satoru, sukuna isn’t jealous but crashed your date with pride, daddy/mama/princess, praise/praising degradation/mocking/teasing/light humiliation/embarrassment, squirting, manhandling, choking, smacking, satoru uses a clone, jerking off, pain kink, pussy slapping, vibrator, forced quick orgasm, overstimulation, Toji is doing his best to sweet talk you

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Toji being your hot ex-husband who comes over Gumi every week and trying to fuck you as well

Oreo: in my quest to answer old asks here we are! Thank you for waiting anon if you did, if you didn’t I hope this reaches you one day! 🫶🏽

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

He turns on your small vibrator, climbing onto your bed. Staring down at you with stunning forest green eyes. “This is what you got to replace me?” You hate how much you love the sight of his massive chest, cocky smirk and thick thighs.

Toji’s cock hangs and lightly sways as he comes closer. You want to him to stretch you out and fill you up. Make you his dumb cock drunk mess who only whines for more.

Ignoring your better judgment to kick your ex back out. You spread your legs, showing Toji how wet your soft cunt is for him. “It makes me cum without bein’ an cold hearted asshole.” You voice isn’t firm like you want. It’s trembling from four months of pent up frustration meeting your desperate anticipation.

The smirk in his face drops a little. “Deserved that.” His smirk softens to a charming smile. “Lemme make it up to ya mama.” He spits on your clit, stroking you with the pulsing toy. Nudging your soft wet cunt with two thick fingers slowly gliding them in.

“I been missing seeing your sweet cunt stretch for me. You feel so soft, wet n’ warm wanna feel ya cumming on my cock. Nothing else gets me off like seeing you soak my cock.” Stroking your sweet spot, focusing on you making you cum quickly.

Closing your eyes moaning, clenching his thick fingers, digging your heels into the bed. You’re lost in the immense relief, muffling your moans with your hand.

Toji pouts, “Look at me beautiful lil mama.” Pumping his fingers faster, adding more pressure to your clit with the toy.

“Let’s make a bet, if I make you cum harder with your toy then you can I win.” The pleasure is intense with the toy pulsing on your soft clit and his fingers working magic. He isn’t playing fair, using his knowledge of your body against you.

Whimpering, “Just tell me you need money.” He’s gaze is too intense, closing your eyes. Biting your lip trying to muffle your cries refusing to give Toji more satisfaction.

Keeping his pace steady, coaxing you towards cumming on his fingers. “I do want money but not from you. What I need is for ya to look at me. Wanna see the look in beautiful eyes when you cum.”

His cheeks flush pink, dripping his voice low whining. “Please.” It shoves you over the edge. Your soaking wet, sensitive cunt spasms, the vibrations on your sensitive clit becoming too much.

“Since I’m winning I wanna take ya out to dinner.” Biting your soft tight, the sweet pain adding at the intense pleasure. “I missed ya sweet tits, squishy thighs, soft stomach, and soaking wet cunt.”

You already came, you couldn't, not again so quickly. Yet you’re quivering, eyes watering, your moans getting louder. Toji muffles your cry with his lips

Rentlessly fucking your sensitive, sloppy wet cunt in a squirting mess, soaking the bed. He doesn't stop, fucking you through your high.

It’s too much yet you want more. You want to feel Toji’s thick cock twitching, his veins pulse seconds before he cums in you. Tears trickle down the side of your face.

Toji breaks away, smirking, “You’re so breathtaking tremblin’ n’ nearly crying cause the pleasure is too much. I've barely done anything and your soaking the bed. Shows how badly she needs me.” He sits up, turning the toy off tossing it aside.

Grabbing himself slapping your cunt with his heavy cock. Jerking your hips back, reflexivly trying to close your legs to escape the overstimulating stinging slaps. He croons, “Is it too much for your poor little cunt?” Dragging himself himself between your lips, running away when he nudges your sensitive clit.

Whimpering, “Yes but I want more, please daddy fuck me with your fat cock.” He flips you over, putting your ass up in the air. Lining himself up, gliding just his fat tip admiring how you stretch to take him. “Or should I call it mine?” You can't wait any long, pushing your hips back taking his cock.

“Nnn fuck that’s it mama fuck yourself with my cock. How good does it feel? Does it make you feel like a whore to fuck yourself like this? Using my cock like a toy.” He groans, it's a deep sound you’ve been missing.

He grabs your hips, meeting your hips with a harsh thrust. Stroking your sweet spot making your eyes roll back. He leans over you, pinning you down with some of his weight.

You’re clawing at the sheets unable to run away. “Come on lil’ mama give me another chance.”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

He’s in the shirtless. You want to fondle, squeeze, and bite his thick chest. Let your hands wonder down his beautifully sculpted body. You could dig your nails into his broad shoulders, spread your legs and take best cock you've had again.

You know how pleasurable it’s to be underneath and on top of him. Which makes not touching him for the past few months even worse. Finding someone that does it like Satoru is impossible.

“Got my shirt going in the washer with some of your clothes. Ya mind if I crash here for the night? It’s gonna be late by the time it’s dry.” Your brain freezes, and you’re thinking only with your cunt.

You’re caught, weakly snapping, “Fuck you for being hot.” You’re missing his warm, large hands groping your body, fingering your cunt. His soft warm lips peppering kisses like he’s worshiping you.

Satoru's pecs are fuller, and his arms are thicker, with two extra veins running down his forearms. When did he get this big?

He croons, “Careful sweetheart.” Grabbing the top of the doorway, filling it up, showing his size off, smirking. “If your date from last they knew how badly you want to fuck your hot baby daddy what would they think?” You’re stuck on his happy trail dipping into his jeans.

He hooks his thumb into his jeans. You rip your gaze away, cheeks burning, your cunt soaking your panties. "It was a second date so it’s none of their concern.” He steps closer, dipping his head down.

Leaning your head back, closing your eyes. “It’s not serious yet then good.” Opening your eyes, your body engulf by heat. The cocky smirk on his lips is infuriating.

He walks past you, standing in your bedroom door. “Why do you think you can help yourself to my room?” He turns around, his expression is cold, angry. It shouldn’t make you so horny.

Is he jealous?

He motions with two fingers, “Tonight it’s our room ya can fuck me for being irritatingly hot and I’ll show you who is better.” You follow him into your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind.

You suggest, “N’ if you fail to be better in bed?” Another Satoru grabs your hair from behind shoving you towards the original.

Nudging your lips with his thick fingers, gagging you when you part your lips. “Thank fucking god these walls are proofed imma make you moan my name like a prayer. I’m gonna have you cry out calling me god and worshipin’ my cock by the time were done.” Squeezing your neck, grabbing your tongue pulling out out to spit on it.

Stuffing your tongue back in with his long fingers. He unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear, getting out his long, veiny cock.

Gliding his fingers out of your mouth, Satoru smears his spit on his cock. You wrap your fingers around him, smear his pre-cum with your thumb. Swirling your fist sliding your hand down his cock.

The clones lifts you off the ground, lining his cock up with your soft lips. Rocking his hips, grinding his warm, hard cock along your soft lips, softly stroking your sensitive clit.

Satoru loosens his grasp around your neck. “Stupid beautiful slut you brought him back here fucked him in what was our bedroom.” The clone Satoru pulls you back by your hips to meet his thrust. “Like your cunt doesn’t belong to me.” He grabs your thighs spreading you in a mating press.

Satoru groans at the sight your soft wet cunt taking his clone’s cock. “You wore this dress for him too.” He rips the front, smirking. He slips his blindfold off, tossing it on the bed. His eyes are cold, hard with intense jealousy you’ve never seen before.

You can’t glare up at him for ripping your dress. Unable to get mad with his cock stirring your guts up with each merciless, quick, deep stroke. He’s fucking a confession out of you. “Got it with you in mind. Knew it was something you liked to see on me.”

“It’s something I love seeing on you. It looks so much better like this, ripped with it bunched around your hips for you to take my cock.” You can’t focus on stroking his cock anymore. You’re too lost in the sweet pleasure of your needy, wet cunt stretching to take his long cock with it’s toe curling thickness.

Letting your thighs go when the clones grabs your thighs. He sits down, man spreading, spitting into his palm stroking himself. “Tell me lil baby mama whose fucking your sweet cunt in a sloppy wet mess?”

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Glancing Sukuna’s lips, he grabs your neck pulling you in close. His lips are so soft despite the roughness in his passionate hungry kiss. Slipping his hand up your dress squeezing your thigh digging in his nails. He slips his tongue in when you whine.

Dragging his nails up your thigh, squeezing your ass, lifting you off your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist. Desperately trying to keep from moaning into Sukuna’s hungry passionate kiss.

He’s hands and lips feel better than you recall, better then when you touch yourself at night. You missed his cocks, his deep groans, all four of his large hands fondling, restraining and playing with your fragile body pushing you to the point of breaking.

Carrying you through the hallway, closing the door locking it behind himself. Pinning you to the wall, dragging his nails up your thighs, fondling your ass.

He breaks the kiss, yanking your head aside by your hair. Biting your neck, you moan from the sweet pain. Using the second you steady to croon, “Aw you jealous Sukuna? Chased my date off.”

Rolling his crimson eyes Sukuna scoffs, “He isn’t enough for ya lil mama. And by the way you were undressing me from across the room I didn’t think you would mind.” His lips stretch into a cocky smirk that makes your cunt throb.

“You’re suck a rude slut with a broken lil cunt that craves both my cocks.” You want to sit on his face and cum till you’re trembling.

You plead with Sukuna, “Can you please?” Trailing kisses along his jawline, dragging your nails along his scalp. You bite his neck, he tilts his head to the side biting into his bottom lip. He moans from you sucking on the soft spot on his neck.

Stepping away from the wall, tugging you off his body dropping you onto your bed. He demands, “Say your a whore who thinks whose greedy lol cunt loves my monster cocks n’ I’ll fuck you stupid.”

Dragging his fingers along the inside of your thigh stopping shy of your cunt. Waiting for you to admit, “I’m your filthy whore who can’t stop thinking with her needy cock hungry cunt. Need ya to fuck me stupid please my King.” He bites his lip, his breath hitching.

“I need your cocks please no one else can compare to you. You make me cum so hard I can’t think straight or walk. Wanna be fucked into a stupid cum stuffed slut!” Lightly stroking your clit through your underwear. grinding your hips.

He croons, “That’s it! I missed hearing you beg. When I think my cock can’t get any harder, it’s almost hurtin.” Fondling himself through his pants, groaning.

“Please take my underwear off. Please my king!” Slipping his finger underneath your underwear. It shouldn't feel so good to have his finger brush your lips but your cunt is clenching.

He groans, “Fuck princess your so damn beautiful, makin’ you my baby mama only made you hotter. That makes you my Queen, my personal cumdump.” Transforming quickly. He’s twice your height and beautifully monstrous with four muscular arms, a mouth stretching across his hard abs. His dark pants outlining his hard cocks.

Unbutton his pants and freeing his cock with a loud sigh. Kicking his pants aside. Massaging his balls, admiring the sight of you laying down in bed with your dress pushed up and legs spread. Your soft cunt soaking wet for him.

Leaning over you, forcing you to look up, grabbing your hands pinning them above your head. Sukuna he slaps your cunt. “This is mine! It’s always been mine!” You reflexively jerk away from the intense sweet sting.

Sukuna yanks you back into place, pinning your legs open. Slapping your cunt again, licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue. Stroking your soft numb quickly, easing the stinging, gliding one thick finger one.

Curling it, remember how your sweet cunt likes it. Massaging your soft spot with the perfect speed and pressure reducing you to a moaning quivering mess, clenching his finger.

The sound proof bedroom containing your loud needy cries. “I miss how you double stuff me. Please, pleaseplease pleaseplease!” Your words are slurring together. His thick fingers are three of your combined, stretching your soft cunt out.

“I know lil’ mama no one can fuck ya like I can. It was a matter of time till ya missed me.” You’re creaming on his fingers too quickly. You shouldn’t be able to. Yet your cunt is clenching and creaming on his fingers.

Your cheeks burning. “Did you cuming so easily?” He smirk grows, “That barely more than a minute, you haven’t been treating her right.” His tongue strokes your puffy clit faster.

Oreo creampie’s m.list

[lxnarphase]

can i get a uhhhhh smut where reader wont stop running from tojis dick and he has to manhandle them into being still :3 !!!

━━ ❝ take it...real slow ❞

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, dirty talk, rough sex, husband!toji, toji being whipped for his wife, toji being super sweet but filthy at the time same, toji calls you 'ma' and 'mama'

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : i love love looove the 'don't run away from it' with toji, i have to fight the urge from including it in every single work of mine ❤︎ but have a little blurbie of toji being a big bully that loves his wife who swears she can take the dick as i try to get back into the flow of writing !!

f. toji knows it's big, he knows it so well. he takes him time to prep you each and every time, his thick fingers rubbing slow circles into your clit to build you pleasure, getting you nice and wet. he loves when you keen his name when he slips them inside. groaning when you gush on his fingers.

"fuck, baby, you're drippin'," he murmurs, mouthing at your neck. "all hot and sticky just for me? tsk...had you like this all day, yeah?" when you nod, he just chuckles, kissing right behind your ear. poor thing, having to work all day with your pretty cunt dripping like this. but he knew it was his fault, having woken you up with his mouth glued to your pussy. the feeling of his tongue running through your folds. but of course, he didn't let you cum, no, toji wanted you to be needy for him until you came home.

"you're doin' so good for me, mama. gonna be a good wifey for me and let me give you what you need?"

leaning over you, toji cages you in with his arms, waiting for you to focus on him. "look at me, doll," he gently commands. his hand cups your cheek, giving soft little slaps that have you giggling as you turn to nip at his fingers. "there she is," he so so sweetly coos at you, but that smirk he gives you is mean. "such a pretty little thing, aren't ya?"

pushing up one of your thighs, toji rubs the swollen head of his thick cock against your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. you look so pretty, so cute, all his...but he knows what's going to happen the second he presses into you, and the thought makes him throb. "jus' relax, mama, 'm gonna make it good for you," he hums, pushing his tip into your cunt.

as he pushes deeper, he leans closer to whisper to you, his breathe hot against your ear. "you gonna run from it again, baby? like you always do? or you gonna be good for me this time?" you swear up and down you don't run away, that you take it because you love it, glaring up at him but that defiant look is wiped off your face the instant he feels that you've completely relaxed, sliding aaaall the way in.

"tojiiiiii, y-you can't just push, mn, in like that...you're so mean!"

"mm...nuh uh," he teases, an almost evil grin on his face as you gaped at his childish response. toji can feel that you need him, he knows you just desperately need to be fucked into the mattress...so of course he's gonna give his pretty wife just what she needs.

his hands hold you in place as he thrusts into you with force, a predatory glint in his eyes as he coos your name. he just started and your eyes are already starting to roll back, crying out his name as thanks for finally, finally fucking you like you needed it. each time he pressed in you could feel his hot tip smushing against your cervix.

"always sayin' 'it's too much, it's too much,' but look at you," he mocks, not allowing you to wiggle up the bed and away from him. no, no, you need this, you need it so bad, the way your pussy is sucking him in, milking his cock. this was the best away to make you take it, to have you trapped under him unable to move away from his fat cock abusing your insides.

"nothin' 's too good for ya, mama, nah, you deserve every. fuckin'. inch."

even thought he's got you trapped like this, you still start to move, trying to angle your hips away from each hard thrust into you. "doll," he growls, grabbing your chin to make you look at him. he was actually starting to get sick of it...why wouldn't you be good and take it for him? did you need him to be mean?

"it's like you want me to fuckin' manhandle you t'' stay still. fuckin' slut needs her husband to treat her like a toy?"

one look into your eyes made toji snap. all he could see was that silent answer of 'yes' in your eyes.

"oh. oh. oh, you do, you do, don't you? yeah? ohhh, baby girl, you poor poor thing, just needed your big bad toji t' use you like a fleshlight," he groans, coming down to support himself on his forearms as he began to pound into your messy cunt, laughing breathlessly when you practically sobbed.

"'m not lettin' you run away, mama," toji grunts, his eyes squeezed shut. "mmph, i'm gonna pump this little pussy full of my cum, gonna mark up those insides. yeah, you want that? huh? ooh, i know ya do, pretty thing."

"h-hu-ooh, babyy," you whine, eyes barely focusing on his face. your hands are gripping his hair and you realize now you really can't move away. his subtle repositioning has your hips a little off the bed. he's so deep, he's stretching you do good, you don't know why you'd wanna run away from it, you really don't, it's just too good, you feel like your going to explode--

"look at you now, mama," he praises. "fuck, can't run from it anymore? c'mon, doll, i'm gonna teach you t' take it. mmh, not lettin' you run anymore, gonna teach this pussy t' take every thing i give t' it, baby girl, 'm done lettin' you get away from me."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw

Taking one of Simon’s balaclava from the closet, inhaling the lingering musk snd cologne scent while rubbing your pussy needily on the bedsheet. He went on a short mission for a few days, and you missed him, miss how he call you sweetheart with that gruff voice, miss how he sit you on his lap, murmuring sweet nothings while his hand

sneaks pass the waistband of your panties, pinching and flicking your clit to warm you up for his big cock, miss how his veiny and sturdy arms wrap around you while you fall asleep while basking in each other’s presence.

You kiss the balaclava on where his lips should be, but that’s not enough, the ache in your chest leads you to scramble to the closet again, taking out a pair of his skeleton gloves, putting those far-too-large gloves on as you slump down on the bed you two shared again, mimicking how he kneaded and rolled the sweet spot hidden between your slick folds, until you finally reach your high, dampening his gloves with your juices.

You tuck the used balaclava and gloves deep inside a discreet drawer, welcoming Simon back home the next day. He got a crazy amount of gloves and balaclava, sure he wouldn’t notice missing a pair or two, right? You try to convince yourself, till the day you think you finally get a chance to wash those fabric stained with the evidence of your guilty pleasure, that he appears behind you silently and catch you scrubbing them.

You have no one to blame other than yourself when getting put over his knees moments later, pajamas shorts pulled down, ass in the air and whining every time he lands a light slap on your reddened buttocks.

“Think I wouldn’t notice, hmm?” He rubs the spot he just hit gently, soothing that delicious tingle briefly “How many times did you come with my balaclava and my gloves?”

You look back at him, trying to respond with the vibrating dildo deep inside your squelching cunt messing your mind. “One ti-One- ngh…” your incoherentness brings yourself another slap, this time land carefully just above your stretched cunt and on the clit.

“Say it clearly, princess, can’t understand when you’re talking in moans.” Simon rubs your skin after the soft smack again, just like what he did whenever he gives you a teasing slap, but him rolling your over-sensitive bud that just got a sweet slap, only flares up your desire and makes you unable to think straight, his fingers and the dildo occupied your thoughts as you manage to answer more comprehensibly.

“One…only one time…” Your staccato reply receives a feign pity glance from him.

“Only one time? poor girl.” He grabs the base of the vibrating dildo and thrust in and out “Look how you lube this dildo with your juices so well, love. Finally satisfied?”

“No! No…please…” You paw at the bedsheets desperately, happy that he might end his ‘punishment’ soon, yet afraid that you won’t get the thing you truly craved. “Need you, Simon, please…! need you inside”

He grins imperceptibly, though the arrogance in his heart is satiated. That’s what he wants to hear, hear you say out loud about how much you need him, how only him can fuck you in the way others can’t.

Pulling the dildo out, seeing how your cunt grabbing onto it like you try to swallow it back in, he fish out his cock, standing straight and leaking profusely from enjoying the show “No need to feel empty for the lost, sweetheart, you’ll get what you deserve now.”

Simon press the tip of his length at your entrance, looking at you with smugness within those brown eyes, and he knows it’s going to be a long night when you gaze back with droopy eyes, still coming down from the edge, with a bliss-out smile spread across your glossy lips.

[hyperlexichypatia]

As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

[strab3rr]

(long story and no short sorry) GUYSSS I DID ITT

I INDUCED IT!!!!! I WAS PURE AS A FUCKING BABY

IDK WHAT TO SAY (ok enough w capslock)

i have so much to say and not a thing at da same time idk how

anyway i want to begin with thanking you @b4ddprincess bc youre the reason i realized why i started this thing. thank you for making my life better and make me realized what i need to do: nothing. (its same for you guys, all u have to do is nothing)

two fuckn years ago i said to myself that i need a better life, quiter life, less fight with everthing bc everything was so loud and not clear i was feeling lost like a child in the market, and i wanted to make things better for myself in every way, but the main idea of my reasons to wanting to get in the void was: making anxiety go and having better people in my life. but the ''voidlist'' just never stopped bc im kinda greedy(having the idea of controling on your life, the idea of that power makes you greedy. yes thats a thing) anyway the more i add to the list the more i feel like im movin away from my desires then i feel depressed bc ive overcomplicating it bc theres so many things to do but i dont do anything so nothing happend bc i was waiting to be someth happen. and then i started doing awkwardly silly things such as: void routines and challenges and (im embarrassed of this one bc i was too desperate) drinking water

youve read it correct drinking water.

i was sooo desperate for having those things id do anything to get them.

i am simple. i want what everyone wants🎀🎀🎀: shifting realities bc i have so many crush and i need them to be crush me in bed(for 2020 girlies)

being an academic weapon is so easy for me🎀(bc of the urge to make my family proud) +dream collage

being the girl that everyone gets along w(basic needs)

being the girl who is pretty not cute(trauma response)

glowing aura(cats loves people w glowing aura yes thats a thing too)

dream body n hair(bc i deserve this🎀)

healthy (girlyfriend)friends(basic needs)

and of course him, my sp(i cant tell wich one at that time but i releived that its not him now, bc MY BELOVED CURRENT BF. guyss he is the one. dont u dare ask me how you know? i literally manifested him🎀)

then i realized i can have everything bc its my reality so why not add these:

new phone, +macbook air

dream apartment of my own

pinterest closet

lifa app for this reality

financially free-money(a lot. like really a lot)

knowing 4 languages like a native person(bc i want to be diplomat so bad) +sign language(its in general)

a little drama(its not gonna hurt anybody)

my parents being more lovable and away from me

every time i try to get in, either i was failing or falling

and im sick of it, sick of it so much i quit.(for a year)

then i go to the theraphy(ofc no im jk ilove being crazy)

one day i saw a post ss from tumblr about pure consciousness on pinterest and i was like whaat is thiiss. no mention of void so i thougt its a diffrent thing and i download the tumblr again and search everything abt it. and same excitement again after one year same thougts and same list popes up in my head. and i was like ok maybe this time itll happen.

still waiting to be someth happen so nothing happend, it was such a waste of time trying to get in while i was already be, i was already what i want to become. i was that girl that everyone gets along with but i couldnt even see bc i was too focused on wanting to be. but still tried every night and failed. and again tried-failed-quit circle bc.. have you ever met me🎀

4 month ago i saw the girl, iconic blogger and the goddess of my dreams, her @b4ddprincess thx again love u so much

a post pops in my fyp and i see the words ''pure consciousness'' i was like noo not again. and i was serious abt it i wasnt gonna read the whole thing but it attract me n i couldnt resist it so ive read it from the top to the bottom. and she got my interest so i stalked her page from the last and to the first post. it was quiet a beautiful journey for me. lasted like 3 days, the end of the 3rd day i was ''woaw it was this easy all along? u cant be serious.'' she was. i tried one last time, no breathing exercise, no ridiculous routines and no waiting something to be happen. it was just me being real me chilling out asf.

and it was this easy and it should be this easy bc being your 4d self is being nothing also being everything at the same time. if u wanna be everything you should be nothing first(as wizardliz saying: drop the old story, leave the victimhood, for being better stop being bitter etc.)u should make a space for everything first and then u can be everything.

for being 4d self of yours stop being your3dself.

sooo long story (no)short i am writing this from my mac in my new apartment(in middle of the night bc i couldnt sleep and then one tumblr notification reminded me i have a success story to share too) and my phone buzzing two minutes a time bc of my friends while im writing this, so if theres anything wrong ignore it pls.

oh u asking my bf how cute, hes sleepin in my bed now, exhausted from the work n school balance.

YWS SCHOOL!! im in my dream collage and im going to be in paris for a week. i deserve a vacation i guess(its for another conference), i kinda hate french men bc theyre so mansplaning(not like how i imagined, its hard to be friends w them)girls are cute but i feel like theyre aware im not permanent there so we just con buddies still cute and hepful for this foreigner.

and i canceled the lifa app thingy bc i can be my purest consciousness anytime i want, so i am my lifa app.

and thx to 4 languages i make a lot of money and that brings us to the pinterest closet, yesterday i realiased that. theyre not comes to me w an imaginary way like i imagined! i go outside for shopping casually and theyre there luckily i have enough money to buy them.

and my family theyre living in our hometown now so as i want it to be, we are away from eachother.

and the most magical thing: SHIFTING REALITIESSS

i did 5 world before i met w my bf. it was such a wonderful experience. if you have doubts abt shifting you can go fuck urself

because sir i did it and i am very sure that dean winchester being my husband is not a daydream, fantasy nor lucid dreaming. believe it or not he kissed me GOD HE KİSSED ME(someone should stop me i have a bf)

is there anything i missed let me see.. cats i have 2 cats now and theyre adorable. glowing aura-check

the girl who is pretty not cute- check +make anxietygo-checkcheckcheck

dream body and hair- check and check

i wanna give u a info i didnt have all my desires by being my4dself

not directly actually. but i have them all. and thats the point.

im not trying to be a blogger but if you have any question abt anything, id be happy to help

now i need to upgrade things in my farm byeess

loves, siena.

[propertyofwicked]

YOU OWE ME - LN

warnings: none, just fluff (inspired by that one CL stream). this is so short pls forgive me

(also, anyone else seen the pics of lando in aus? FERAL for that man.)

“tier 1 sub - max can you tell lando to get off his computer and let me in the flat please im freezing” max reads out, bursting into laughter, “youre in trouble mate.”

max hears a travelling shout of swearing, getting quieter as lando’s headset is thrown to the desk and his entire body hurtling towards the front door.

“shit shit shit shit,” lando shouts, his fingers struggling with the keys left on the inside of the door. finally he manages to unlock the door and pull it open to see his girlfriend, rosy cheeked and a less than impressed expression.

“lando, how many times have i said to take the keys out of the door if you lock it and im not home - especially if youre not going to answer your phone.”

“im sorry baby, im sorry i know - i forgot,” he mumbles, his hands taking yours and bringing them to his face. he flinches slightly at the sheer coldness of your fingers, “do you want a drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee? it’ll warm you up”

“i’d love a cup of tea,” you smile sadly, shrugging your horribly thin jacket off. honestly, with the typical english winter, your jacket was almost useless in combatting the cold winds anyways. you move to follow lando into the kitchen, watching him fill the kettle and move to grab a mug from the cupboard.

“come here,” you say, opening your arms slightly for lando to move into. he moves to you instantly.

“you’re not angry at me?”

“no, i am. youre just warm” you say, looking up to smile at him. his hands fall to your waist, gripping your hips and hoisting you up to sit on the counter, but he doesn’t move back into your embrace. instead, his arms move to take his hoodie off himself, and pull it over your head.

“better?”

“slightly,” you're still smiling at him as you adjust the hoodie - lando can tell you're not angry at him, just slightly irritated.

“the heating’s on, my office is warm - you wanna go sit in there whilst i finish your tea, angel?” he asks, his hand stroking your cheek, “max is on call if you wanna talk to him for a bit? he’s streaming but you already know that,” he grins, his tongue sticking into the side of his cheek.

“i think max’s chat deserve to know how bad of a boyfriend you are,” you joke, hoisting yourself off the counter, ready to march on in and complain to the stream. lando’s hand catches your arm, spinning you back into his chest. his hand comes back to your cheek, and tilts your head back.

“im sorry baby, you know i am,” he frowns slightly - you reassure him that he is forgiven by pressing a small kiss to his lips. once again you go to move, but he pulls you back in, kissing you again - repeatedly pecking kisses all over your face and eventually your lips. his tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for more. you pull your head back slightly, desperate to go and rat him out to max but his teeth nip down on your bottom lip again to prolong the connection.

“i don’t think so, lan,” you giggle, smiling up at him again. lando groans and swears you almost skip your way to his office, excited to tell max as he prepares for a night of grovelling.

“max. you’ll never believe this man,” you sigh, after popping lando’s headset on your own head.

“y/n! how are you?”

“freezing, max. and £10 poorer now i’ve had to sub to your twitch to be let into my own flat.”

“oh yeah, thanks for the sub,” max laughs out, looking at the chat, “it’s ok, chat reckon you should invoice lando for the inconvenience.”

“i think i might have to you know, although he’s making me a cup of tea right now and i might be able to pout my way into a takeaway tonight.”

“y/n that man is so whipped i don’t think you need to pout your way into him doing anything for you,” he responds, his emphasis on anything making you grin slightly.

minutes later, lando comes into the room, using his foot to kick the door open in front of him, his hands full with your mug and your lip balm. hang on, lip balm?

“here you go baby,” he says, placing the mug down on the coaster on his desk, “i put honey in it for your throat, and i brought your lip balm ‘cos your lips are dry,” he grins as he hands you the lip balm.

“my lips wouldn’t be dry if you’d answered the phone the first time i rang you,” you say, the eye roll evident in your voice, even to max who couldn’t see your face.

“hang on, y/n, how does he know your lips are dry?” max interrupts, his laugh travelling through the headset.

“because max, when two people love each other very muc-”

“ew stop it,” lando interjects, as he sets up a second set of headphones to join in the chat.

“he’s trying to regain my love with physical affection.”

“i can tell from your tone that it’s not working.”

“well, after that ‘ew’ i think i may have to revoke all physical affection.”

“you wouldn’t,” lando gasps, his hands dramatically clutching his chest.

“order dominoes and ill reconsider. you owe me.”

“yeah lando, and send her £10 to cover the cost of the twitch sub,” max shouts, siding with you, “chat also think you should, as a courtesy.”

you don’t say anything, but turn to look at him, puppy dog eyes and a pout to complete the look.

“fine! fine,” he laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender, “i was going to offer anyways.”

“sure you were,” you and max manage to say simultaneously.

-

an hour later, your food had arrived and your saying goodbye to max and his chat, as lando goes to the door. however, by the time you shuffle into the living room, lando has began setting up netflix, sat next to a mound of blankets he’d brought in from your bedroom.

“hey you, come ‘ere,” he says, leaning his back against the arm of the sofa and tapping the space between his legs. once you were settled, your back resting on his chest, he leans to grab the pizza box on the coffee table in front of you - it went down quickly.

“funny how hungry you get when you’re left shivering in the freezing cold for hours," you think out loud.

“it wasn’t hours and i didn’t do it on purpose y/n,” lando whines, scoffing slightly at the time embellishment, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he did.

“i know baby, i’m sorry. you’re forgiven,” you start to feel bad for him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before manoeuvring you both further down the sofa until he’s laying completely flat, and you roll over so that your head can lay on his chest. the two of you lay in silence for a few moments, the tv still playing quietly in the background, and you feel his chest moving with every breath.

lando's hands wander underneath his your hoodie, and begin to trace small shapes on your skin, making you shiver slightly. then, a thought hits you.

“someone needs to make a compilation of F1 drivers accidentally locking their girlfriends out because they’re streaming,” he laughs as you say it, your whole body shaking from the shuddering of his laughing, "it seems to happen more than you'd think."

“hey! i wasn’t streaming - max was, i was just there. AND! i paid you back, charles never paid his girlfriend back for the sub.”

“oh, aren’t you generous.”