#open relationship trope

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

Next

Masterlist

[myfriendtheurbanlegend]

The Carter/Reese kiss came up on my dash again...

I've always thought John Reese can love and care about more than one person at a time for different reasons. This doesn't do a disservice to any character and I find it incredibly reductive to think so.

Behind the scenes, it was an emotional alternative take that the writers chose to include in the final cut of the episode, despite the showrunners' apparent disinterest in a Reese/Carter relationship. Both actors said the lines sort of called for it and I can see what they meant. I fail to see how the kiss ruined anything about Reese and Carter and Finch, unless one thinks character roles are radio buttons and you can't check [BADASS] without unchecking [LOVE INTEREST].

Reese's relationship with Finch is special; Finch gave him a purpose and the means to fulfill it but that doesn't cancel the fact that their story starts with Finch wanting something out of Reese and effectively getting it through manipulation. There is a lot of friction and distrust in the beginning and Reese is smart to be wary. It might be me, but I like the ups-and-downs of this relationship, the arguments. Nonetheless, Finch proves himself to be magnitudes better than his old bosses, a leader he can follow. Instead of leaving him to the wolves at the end of Number Crunch, the "middle-aged cripple" comes for him, and saves his life. Reese puts his life on the line for him when he's kidnapped, and so on, and so forth, they stumble along together, trying to right their wrongs.

Carter on the other hand doesn't have that kind of baggage. It's not the same dynamic. She takes one look at him at the station and understands what he's going through. She is a working woman, a single mom and she was in the same path as Reese to an extend but she made good decisions and ended up different. I think Reese recognized that when they first talked. She did what he strove to do and failed and he feels that with the power Finch and his machine granted him he can protect the ideals she upholds even if he can never live up to them. He does say the world can't afford to lose her and has always, from S1 tried his damnedest to protect her. Now this isn't very well communicated in the show because Reese's active suicidal tendencies were cut (they wanted to have Reese dangling from a bridge but the city prohibited filming there) but this is what I think the "You changed my mind" line means. Carter, being the person that she was, gave him a nudge in the police station. When he was on his feet, she became his anchor, through her good work and character.

In the end, Finch gave him the purpose, the means. Carter was the ideal that he was fighting for.

[fallenaither]

Bugtober 2024- Day 27: Past

A look into one of the first moments after Apollyon was found by Pan. Being a chef and not a medic, Pan rushed them over to Isau as quickly as he could. Apollyon was in a...pretty bad state, but thankfully Isau was able to help it out and Pan was determined to make sure the moth they found ended up okay.

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #1 - Angst

Based on the result of this poll

_

Caretaker feels hot tears stream down their cheeks as they keep doing CPR on whumpee's unmoving body. They hear their own breath ring in their ears, loud and irritating, mixed with the rhythmic sound of applying pressure to the other's chest.

"Come on, don't do this to me," they sob before they give whumpee another kiss of life. "Wake up."

Their short breaths are switched out for counting the compressions they make. "One, two, three, four -"

They feel that a rib might have been broken, but they don't care. Caretaker just wants whumpee back, their own heart beating against their chest far to fast and loud. But they can't lose them, not like this. Not after everything they have been through ...

"I wanted our first kiss to be something different, you idiot," they sob and feel their body shake with exhaustion. "Please wake up!"

[crispyliza]

An old classmate from highschool has become an actress and she's in a pretty popular tv show here in Greece where she plays a teenager. and it's just so wild to see while knowing what she looked like as an ACTUAL teen. She'll be 25 soon lmao 😭

[sunsetrules]

would any1 be interested in reading soft Damianya scenarios w proud Twiyor parents staring lovingly at their two(2) kids or do I need to silence these demons from my head

[somewherefornow]

JENNIFER KNIGHT/PHANTOM LADY & DANE MAXWELL/DOLL MAN in PHANTOM LADY AND DOLL MAN (2012)

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Honestly? PB can't even make an enjoyable smut book. Take Surrender for example, it honestly doesn't even need Reagan or a LI at all. Take out the icky toxic power imbalance between a sheltered emotionally abused divorcee and her lawyer and just have MC go to court, take Pat for all they're worth so she's financially stable and THEN have her discover the world of BDSM.

Sloan could have been our teacher of BDSM and we could have had the choice of either falling in love with Sloan and starting an open or closed relationship with them or stay single and live a sexually free lifestyle with plenty of steamy fun for the horny readers. Instead we got....Reagan...

Shoutout to @kamilah-sayeeds-loyal-alien for shooting this idea to me in my dm and allowing me to post it. You're a true king!

[byler-alarmist]

Eddie really Will Byerses it up in vol. 1 and to a lesser degree, vol 2.

[charliemwrites]

Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

Content:Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[s0fter-sin]

finally figured out the reason it’s been difficult to get back into reading books after reading fic for so long is so many fantasy books are just self inserts and the mc has no personality beyond the bare minimum

[neverendingford]

.

[variousqueerthings]

skip black sails season 1 this and skip mash seasons 1-3 that, it simply seems odd to not watch the establishing parts of a story the first time you watch said story because they aren’t as polished as later on (as they’re busy doing the establishing part), under the guise of considering them “less progressive”

[freytful]

I read the “Good omens 2 is bad on purpose” theory and while the author is annoying it does make sense! However I don’t think they’re aware that if it’s true it could only ever be the death/rebirth type set up for an End of Evangelion style “I Hate Every Single One Of You” ending

[mansplainmanipulatemalewife]

I have been meaning to ask but - is there a character you like because one of your friends loves them and will talk about them endlessly even tho you never gave that character much thought before?

There are many - I was at comicon yesterday and an irl friend spent like 20 minutes explaining the OC she was cosplaying to me that was great. I think I proofread one of @mxchifer's fics at one point about like... some kind of demon things with food names? One of them was called croissant iirc.

So long as people are enthusiastic enough I will get invested in pretty much anything, to the point that like I can help come up with elaborate AUs about characters I actively dislike in cannon, just because like... seeing how other people feel about things and why is super interesting. Like I get to take part in my friends interests and get new opportunities to consider different ways of interpreting media and why they appeal to different people? Those are two of my favourite things!

[ch3rry-bl0ssum]

!! Request Page !!

Hiyaa!! I'm blossum, I haven't written anything in a HOT MINUTE and in desperate need of requests so I can start writing again

LIST BELOW

Fandoms:

Spider-man (Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield, and Tom Holland ONLY!!)

Stranger Things

JJK

Resident Evil

Haikyuu

COD

Harry Potter

Percy Jackson (MOVIES)

YU-GI-OH

Etc just ask!!

!! WRITING !!

I'm sure everyone knows how to put in a request so I don't really have anything fancy you just gotta ask '(chosen character) x reader' and the prompt/trope you would like and just some detail of what you want!! I also will do headcannons!

!! PROMPTS/TROPES !!

A small list of tropes and prompts that I write for but you can request any!! Along as there down right bad!!

!! Prompts !!

Wholesome/fluff

Agnst

Smut

!! Tropes !!

Opposites attract

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Forbidden love

Secret identity

Stuck together

Best friend’s brother/sister

Second chance

Soul mates

Fake relationship turns real

Destined to be together/soulmate/fate

Love at first sight

Love potion

Magic

Star-crossed lovers

Long distance relationship

Second chance romance/first love

couple then have to find their way back to each other