#satisfaction of feeling like YOU were the reason i fixed myself like YOU were the one who kickstarted it

[embv]

GOD my mom frustrates me so much :( help me

[futureplayboibunnie]

Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’’ He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’

[dsireland86]

The Things We Could Never Change

PART 2 OF THERE IS BEAUTY IN THE PAIN

Chapter 1

tags: @lma1986 @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @thatamazingvampirestory @myownthoughts12 @badomensls

If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know :)

****warnings: sexual content and language

NOAH AND SOPHIE HAVE MOVED ON FROM THE PAIN AND FOUND THE BEAUTY THAT COMES THROUGH TRUST AND LOVE.THE PAST IS NEVER REALLY THE PAST AND THE FUTURE IS UNKNOW.THE ONLY THING THEY BELIEVE IN IS THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE OTHER THAT THET'RE SCARED TO LOOSE BECAUSE THEY KNOW THEY'LL NEVER FIND IT IN ANYONE ELSE.MAYBE LOVE REALLY IS THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND.

--Link to Chapter 2 Pt.1 at the bottom--

Sophie:

It was going to take some time for me to adapt to this new life, this new way of thinking, and accept what was happening to me was authentic. 

Because of all the years of mental and physical abuse I suffered at the hands of a man who I thought loved me, all the damage that had been done to my mind and my emotions was worse than I imagined. I was closed off, became scared, and untrusting about Noah's true intentions for me. I became mean; even aggressive at times, and that would usually lead to fights and arguments that were never intentional.

Later I would come to my senses, realizing what I'd done, and when I looked for him, hoping he would accept my apologies, I always found him; arms opened ready to hold me and tell me that it was okay and that he understood, refusing to admit if I'd hurt him. Noah had become my saving grace. 

But I knew better than to believe him. Noah was a pro at masking his pain which always made me feel worse. I was creating wounds in him; wounds he didn't deserve, yet he always begged me to stay. He never pushed me away or made me feel like anything I did was my fault and I couldn't understand why. To me, at certain times, giving someone a second chance was like giving them an extra bullet for the gun they held to your heart because they didn't hit you hard enough the first time. I didn't want that to be the case with me and Noah. I didn't want to be the reason for any of his pain.

We were together, making it clear we didn't anyone else. He didn't want to see me with anyone else, and I didn't feel safe with anyone else. I loved the way Noah cared for me and his overprotectiveness never bothered me. I welcomed it, with open arms and a grateful heart. 

To the public we were nothing. No one ever noticed anything and we liked it that way. But to the band and crew, his family, Noah made sure they knew and they liked it that way. It was crazy how quickly they become my family too and helped fix the parts of me I thought were too fucked up to be fixed.

Noah became my everything and as each day passed, I found myself falling harder for him; something I thought would never be possible. What was growing between us was more than just a passing feeling or satisfactory highs; it was deeper, stronger, almost ethereal. He had become my safe place, my tower, and the daily reminder that even though I lived through hell for a good part of my life, heaven was achievable. I just had to be patient. 

______________________________________________________________

I could feel his tall, dominant presence before I even felt his long arms snake around my body, pulling me in closer to him. My bottom hung halfway off the stool I was sitting on and I knew that if he let go of me, I would fall flat on my back. But I had faith in Noah; I trusted him, more than I trusted myself, so I let myself relax, laying my head against his hard chest and allowing his long, spider-like fingers to inch their way under my shirt in search of the soft flesh at the top they were looking for. I forced back moans that were begging to escape, refusing to give Noah the satisfaction of knowing how badly I wanted him at the moment. My skin was burning, my heart was racing, and my sex was aching to feel him. I didn't care who was in the house at that moment. I needed Noah now.

"You feel like fucking heaven under my fingertips, Princess," Noah whispered in my ear, trailing hungry kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. "And you smell so fucking good. I want to eat every part of you," lightly dragging his tongue over my skin and nipping every inch that his lips came in contact with. This time I uttered a soft moan after hearing the pet name he gave me the very first time we were intimate on that gray couch in his studio. The things he did to me that day, the way he made me feel; just thinking about it did things to me and the proof was right between my legs. 

Noah groaned, deep and low, pulling me back into the moment as he nuzzled my neck.

"Oh baby, fuck girl you've got me so hard right now I just want to devour you," Noah growled, finally moving his hand under my sports bra to message the pebble flesh beneath it. I bucked when his fingers pinched my nipple, causing me to bite my lower lip harder than I meant to and I hissed. 

"You okay?" he asked leaning over and meeting my cheek with his. 

"Yeah," I huffed a small laugh, throwing my hand behind his head and pushing his face closer to mine. 

"I want your lips and your tongue in my mouth," I demanded. Turning my head to look at him partially, Noah smiled and kissed the tip of my nose before touching my lips with his fingertips, sliding them down my throat, and landing on the soft mound of my breast. He squeezed, making me grunt, and continued making his way down until it slid under the waistband of my sweats.  

"I want these lips," he muttered, reaching further down until he found what he was looking for. I drew in a deep breath when I felt his fingers graze over my middle, causing me to whimper, "I wanna feel how wet you are for me," rubbing my sex with his hand, pushing hard against it and making the muscles in my thighs tighten around his hand. I cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling he was creating in me.

Noah wasn't wasting any time in letting me know what he wanted, and I could tell by the urgent way his fingers grabbed at the flesh between my thighs, gripping and stroking, that this was all a way for him to cover up something that his mind was having a hard time processing. And because he wasn't good with using his emotions or words, he needed me to help; that's why he came to me like this; flustered yet sensual enough to not make me not feel like a toy. 

"Are you okay," I asked softly, locking my fingers around the one hand he still had locked tight under my shirt. His cheek rested against the side of my head and the pressure of his clenched jaw told me he was holding back words.

"How do you do that? How do you know when I'm not alright?"

His voice quivered, giving away his softer side, and my heart suddenly hurt. Something was wrong and he needed a distraction.

Without speaking and no longer interested in answering his question, I reached behind me and brought my hands to his neck, sliding them up the sides, behind the back of his head, and through his freshly cut hair, tugging him down a little more so I could have access to his lips. 

Noah's quiet moans were my weakness. They had become my validation that I was good at making him happy and satisfied, and as I slid my tongue into his mouth and tasted the faint flavor of mint, they got a little louder.

"I like the taste of your lips," I mumbled in between kisses and felt his lips curl up into what I knew to be his precious smile.  

His body tightened around me, his hand between my thighs squeezing my sex some more and making me squirm.

"Noah, please...," I begged. The coiling tension between us was too much and I was losing my will to fight him with every move he made on my body. "You know I hate it when you tease me like this."

"If you hate it so much, then why are you moaning for me?" he cooed, stroking my neck with his fingers, before wrapping them lightly around it, squeezing.

"Shit, Noah, please,"  

I swallowed hard, despite the grip he had on my throat, my nerves on fire, quickly losing all composure. Noah, once again, had me chasing my climax.

"Please, what baby? What do you want from me?" releasing the chokehold on my neck and circling a spot on the side with his finger. Leaning down he sucked on my skin so hard that I winced. He already knew what I wanted; he always did.

"You want me to touch you?" once he was satisfied with the mark he left on me.

I nodded.

His fingers finally worked their way under my panties, tugging them aside, and sliding between my wet folds, stroking the very spot he knew would have me begging for his mercy. 

"Say it, princess, tell me what you want me to do." Noah's plea sounded just as desperate as mine. 

I was panting, completely ruined and vulnerable in Noah's hands, and he knew exactly what he was doing and if he didn't touch me soon, I would make him. 

"Please t-t-touch me, Noah, fuck please," I whined, tightening my grip around his neck

He huffed a small laugh and hugged me tighter.

"What, like this, is this what you want," sliding one long finger deep between the crevices of folds and pushing into me.

 I softly cried out, dropping my hands from around his neck and wrapping them around his legs, digging my nails into the tender flesh of his thighs, as his fingers pumped in and out of the center of my pleasure. 

Noah drew in a short breath through his teeth, removing his hand from under my shirt and wrapping it around my throat again.

"Is that your mark on me, baby?"

"Maybe."

"Your nails fucking hurt."

Noah's wet lips crashed into mine and our tongues met, starving for the taste of one another's. The sounds that escaped me; soft whimpers, short, breathless moans, were different than times before; they were desperate and dangerous.

 "I guess we're even then. Sucking my skin isn't as comfortable as you might think," I sassed, meeting his eyes. They were dark and firey, threatening something more than what he was already doing to me. 

"That's it, I'm gonna make you fucking cum for me," he growled, grabbing my hand and pulling it back behind me so hard that I yelped. 

"Oh shit, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't me," 

"I'm fine, Noah. I'm fine. Please, just keep going. Finish me off."

He was concerned, worried he'd hurt me or triggered some painful memory. But the difference between when Noah was rough and when Perry was rough was that Noah only wanted to please me whereas Perry only wanted to hurt me.

Taking my hand, more gentle this time, he placed it on his hard cock that was pressed firmly against my back. 

"That's where your hand stays until I make you cum. If you remove it, I stop," sliding another finger inside me and using his thumb to make the magic circles he knew would have me cuming on his fingers in a matter of seconds. I completely collapsed into him, throwing my head back against his chest, so that he was the only thing keeping me up. His fingers slid in and out of me, thrusting so far up I could see stars, making me cry out in the most satisfying way possible, as his fingers continued curling and twisting inside me 

"Shit, Sophie, I can feel you, God you're so fucking wet for me," he panted, throwing his hand to my neck once more, but this time squeezing hard. My oxygen was suppressed and as Noah continued plunging his two long fingers in and out of me, my vision began to grow hazy, but I never removed my hand. I grabbed what I could and pressed him tighter in my hand slightly moving his length around. 

Noah's moans hit me right in my soaking wet core.

"I know. Please don't stop Noah. You've got me, I'm almost there," I cried breathlessly, rolling my hips to make him go deeper.

"I love making you feel this way, Sophie. I love knowing I'm the only one who gets to watch you fuck my fingers like this." My cries were closer together and I knew was just about there. 

"And when you're ready, inside of your walls is where I want to be, thrusting my cock inside the tight folds of your broken mind and penetrating the sweet softness that is you, until I release all my love deep inside you. I'll fuck every part of him out of your mind Sophie."

Crying out Noah's name savagely, I found his lips and attacked them like a ravaged animal as tears slid down my cheeks, my climax almost reaching its end.

"Cum on me, Princess, so I can taste you!"

That was all the encouragement I needed. With one more hard thrust onto his fingers, my orgasm hit me so hard, that nothing but a string of curses came out of my mouth.

"Fuck." Noah bit my earlobe, pulling it between his lips and then letting his lips fall to my cheek and then my neck. "You look so beautiful when you cum." He squeezed me tighter as his breath caught in his throat. He was trembling, the strain of holding up both himself and my body all at once, seemed to be playing a part.   

I was utterly breathless and my legs were shaking terribly that trying to form a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. Noah's chest heaved in and out against me, and the groaning that followed told me that I wasn't the only one who found their release. Once Noah slid his fingers out of me, I suddenly felt so empty, longing to be filled with him again. 

"I love the way you taste, baby," smiling against my face, "so sweet and all mine." I grinned shyly, still not used to his praise when it came to sexual intercourse. Perry never gave me praise.

"All yours?" I felt Noah's body tighten and a brief moment of silence passed. 

"I want it to be all mine; all of you. I want all of you Sophie." He kissed my cheek, sparking the urge for more of him inside me. 

Sitting up and turning around to finally face him, I met Noah's sweet face. His eyes were still dark, showing the remaining signs of his arousal, but fuck, he was gorgeous. His hair was disheveled and his lips were wrecked, but everything else was perfect. I laid both my hands on the sides of his face and gently tasted his lips, tasting a little of myself on his tongue. I groaned, shifting my bottom to sit, and wrapped my legs around him, pulling him close not caring at all about the mess that was covering his shorts.   

"See what you fucking do to me?" Noah praised. Smiling against his lips, he ran my hands through his hair, laying them around his neck. 

"God, you're so unbelievably fucking beautiful, you know that, don't you?" I shook my head, refusing to meet his eyes. 

"Hey, look at me," taking my chin between his thumb and finger, turning my face towards him. 

"You are," he roused, his lips pressing together to form his intoxicating smile that made me melt. I covered my face with my hands, hoping Noah didn't see how red he made my cheeks. But he pulled them down, taking both of them in one of his, and bringing them to his chest.

"Don't, don't ever cover your face, especially from me. You've spent too much of your life hiding that beautiful face because of...." 

Noah didn't like talking about my past abuse any more than I did. When it did come up, he got aggressive about it, and I prayed he and Perry never had a face-to-face.

"Well, you know, just because," he said, brushing my hair back, away from my face.  

"Just so that you remember, you're the one who said I needed more time before we decided to have sex, not me."

I reached over and slid my fingers across his cheek until it rested in the palm of my hand. Noah had the sweetest heart, but it carried a lot of pain and secrets. I knew, with time as he promised, he would tell me those pains and secrets. Until then, all I could do was love him the way he needed to be loved.

"I'm ready Noah, I'm ready for you to have all of me. You said you wanted it, well, it's yours." 

I never thought I would see the kind of relief on Noah's face that I saw then. It was like a dark cloud suddenly passed over him, allowing the sun to shine.  

Leaning in and kissing me quickly, he stood up reaching for me to join him. 

Our lips found each other's, pulling one another in. We broke apart, smiles stretching over both our faces, only to go back in for seconds.

"I'm going to go change. When I come back down, do you want to order food and watch "Demon Slayer" "?

"Absolutely," I giggled, smiling like a schoolgirl. 

Noah shot me a wink before running upstairs.

I took the extra time I had to clean up the kitchen and straighten up the bar, putting things back in order. Eventually, Noah came down, but he was no longer in the same happy mood as before. 

"Babe, what's wrong?" 

He didn't answer, didn't even look up at me.

I went over to him, hoping it was nothing serious, and froze the instant I saw the look on his face. 

"Noah, what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath as if he was about to speak, but changed his mind.

"Nothing," shaking his head and walking past me.

"What the hell? What do you mean by nothing? Your face says differently. Noah!"

"Just forget it okay? Where's the menu for the Chinese place? I'm going to order food." 

"Stop brushing me off!" I ordered. "I know something's going on."

Noah finally faced me. He looked very angry, yet I could see the pain he was fighting to hide. 

"Noah, please talk to me. Don't shut me out; not when I've been so honest with you and you've seen just about every demon of mine." I was willing to beg him, pleading for him to open up and talk to me. 

Running his hands through his hair, Noah huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fuck! I was hoping this would never happen! I don't fucking understand. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me!"

I was wrong; Noah wasn't angry; he was fucking pissed.

"Sophie, Matt called me. I need to tell you about Sarah." My heart started pounding "Who's Sarah?" Noah clenched his teeth together and I knew he was reluctant to tell me.

"Noah… who is Sarah?" "She was part of our crew early on; was with us for a few years." "Okay," I said slowly, not following. "Fuck! She's my ex-fiancé, Sophie." My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. "What?" I was confused as hell. Noah nor anyone else had ever mentioned an ex-fiancé. "I didn't know…" "Yeah, a lot of people didn't. It wasn't a long engagement."

Somehow, I was able to see past the confusion for a moment and notice how bad this whole mess was affecting Noah. "What happened?" I asked, going over to him, but not touching him. Sometimes, Noah just needed space. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He was fighting back tears. Finally, I reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me now." "I'm sorry. I should have told to sooner," taking my hand and pulling me into his embrace. "Told me what?" He paused to lick his lips, looking down at me. "Somehow, someone fucked up and hired her back on as crew for the new tour." "So, she's working for you?" He gave a half shrug. "Sort of, yeah." I breathed in deep, letting it out slowly.

Wrapping my arms around him, I laid my head on Noah's chest. The sound of his heartbeat calmed me. Ever since the first night he held me through my panic attack, the sound became a solace for me. "It's okay, baby. We'll get through this." "We?" I nodded, looking up at him. "I'm not going anywhere, Noah." "No?" he whispered, caressing my face with his long, tattooed fingers. My body melted into him and I became putty in his hands. "No. I'm staying right here until you tell me to leave." Sliding his hand behind my head, Noah lowered his face and took my lips in his, kissing me softly and slowly, while his other hand found its way to my bottom. I gasped, smiling into his lips when he squeezed my left cheek.

"You're never leaving me," he said when we parted. "No?" taking his chin between my fingers and pecking his lips. He shook his head. "Sophie, I'd love it if we told people we're together. I want to make it official." My heart did that weird flip-flop thing and I couldn't help my grin. "Me too." "You wanna be only mine?" his eyes flashing with excitement as a lopsided grip appeared over his mouth. "I thought I already was," I chuckled. "Are you a jealous man, Noah?" giving him a questioning look. "I am, especially when it comes to you." I smiled, running my fingers through his hair, savoring the delicious moan that fell from his lips. "Sophie," "Hmm…" "I think I love you…" "Think?" "….. …… ….. let's just say a ninety-nine percent chance." I threw my arms around Noah's neck, smiling like a silly little schoolgirl. "I think I love you too, Noah."

CHAPTER 2 PT.1

[arofili]

Hi! I hope you're doing well and congrats on the 4k followers! If you're still taking prompts, how about Autumn for #7 with Daeron and Maglor?

“Don’t let it end like this,” Maglor said softly.

Daeron clenched his fists. “Don’t,” he growled.

“Daeron—meldo, please—”

“Don’t you dare!” Daeron snapped. “Every time, I swear—you beg and plead until I pity you, but it’s never enough to fix anything. I mean it, Maglor—I am leaving this time. You promised to change. But you haven’t. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

“You ask me to change the past,” Maglor cried. His burned hand reached out to grab Daeron’s arm, and he could feel the heat of the forever-maimed flesh against his skin, a constant reminder of Maglor’s failure. “I cannot go back and stop myself from wronging you and your kin. All I—all we can do is move forward—”

He had a way of twisting words, of pulling at the heart’s yearnings, of drawing people close and filling them with sympathy. He was a master of manipulation. Daeron knew that, even had some skill with it himself—but though they were both powerful musicians, Daeron was always more of an instrumentalist. Words, lyrics, poetry—that was Maglor’s domain.

After this long, Daeron should be able to resist him. But he was weak at heart, and always had been. He loved too easily, and never learned to close himself off despite the pains of loss and betrayal.

“You always do this,” he whispered, Maglor’s pleas stirring up his grief and bringing tears to his eyes. “I want—I want remorse. Yes, you cannot change the past, but you can change how you feel about it. And not just how you speak about it.”

“Daeron. Meleth.” The endearment, in Daeron’s own tongue this time, was precisely calculated, but even knowing that, it worked on him all the same.

Maglor cupped his cheek with his good hand and turned Daeron’s face so they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. His own gaze shown with that Lachend-flame, eerie and powerful. But Daeron of all Iathrim knew well such a Light, for it was in Lúthien’s eyes also, from Elu her father and Melian her mother.

(For Daeron, love and horror had always gone hand in hand.)

“I cannot dwell in the past,” Maglor murmured. “But the reason I cannot is—is because if I do, I will lose myself in regret, in remorse. I have done—so much evil. But I cannot let that define me.” His war-callused thumb brushed a tear from Daeron’s cheek. “Was it not you who taught me that?”

He couldn’t help himself. Damn him, he couldn’t let Maglor go.

“Aye, I did,” he admitted, and let himself lean into his lover’s touch. “But...Maglor?”

“Yes, melindo?” Maglor’s voice was tinged with smugness, for he knew he had won. But Daeron would not let himself be the loser, even so.

“This isn’t over,” he warned. “Not you and I—but not your reckoning, either.”

And to Daeron’s immense satisfaction—and relief—the triumph in those shining eyes wavered.

“I know,” Maglor sighed. “I would love you less if it was.”

[ningenmagai]

feels like such a stupid cruel joke that almost all of my satisfaction in life comes from helping other people and making them happy and im like chronically painfully lonely and i am incredibly attractive in both looks and personality but i also just kind of fundamentally hate every other person on the planet and only seek out intimacy when ive either lost my mind or have something to prove to myself. What if you were starving all the time and had a fully stocked pantry but every kind of food imaginable just kind of disgusted you for reasons that you've never been able to explain and in a way that you've never been able to fix. and then it gets even more complicated because there are people that i do sincerely like but this is still all true for them. world's worst misanthrope

[beardedmrbean]

A belated Remembrance/Veterans Day, but better to be a day late than to forget all together.  This time my thoughts go back to my ancestor Hayward Frank Wade, who was 19 years young when he died in the Battle of Mons.  I'll DM you a memorial his hometown created for the Great War's 100th anniversary.

This is Bugler Hayward Wade, 19, the first Worthing man to be killed in action during the war on August 26, 1914. After running out of ammunition, his unit fixed bayonets and charged the Germans, who shot them down. This is an account of his final moments as he lay dying on the battlefield.

They were recorded by a comrade lying wounded beside him. In a letter to Wade’s parents, Sargant FE Ward wrote: “He was with me thought the Battle of Mons, and on that memorable August 26th, when our regiment found part of the defense in the rearguard action. He was with me when I received my first wound, and was wounded himself the next minute, at the close of the terrible charge when it was then growing dark. Men lay all around. One calling your son’s name, he answered quite close to me. I crawled to him and asked where he was hurt and if I could do anything. But my ability was small, having received another shrapnel wound, which smashed my right arm. I find it very hard to put on paper what my feelings were as I lay badly wounded by your son’s side, myself growing weaker and sinking to what I thought would be the end. I can only say that I have often wished that I might meet me end with as brave a front and apparent satisfaction as he did. His last words with always be dear to my memory. Although only comrades, you can understand the love that springs up between in these positions of life and death. I spoke to him as best I could, and well remember his answer: ‘We have done our best, may God bless us all, and England.’ I thought no man prepares for the end could ever meet at with such a calm frontage. I then dropped off to sleep, of unconsciousness, and woke at 11 o’clock the next morning, and on turning toward your son, found him with eyes closed, and apparently dead. I feel sure he had a peaceful end. I can truly say he did his fighting and dying bravely as a soldier. A better soldier I should never wish to have in any charge.” ______________________

Submitted by @eggs-n-ham-sam

All wars are stupid, the people that start them rarely end up suffering for them anymore, WWI was especially stupid, there was no good reason for it to have happened and the echos of it are still creating problems to this day.

Lions led by donkeys.

I like how they set it to "Jupiter" took a moment for that to register, but it feels appropriate to me.

[ginger-futch]

Poor Quill is going through it, so I'm posting my own thoughts on the situation. I know it's not Poppy related, but I figured some of my younger followers could use the lesson in fandom etiquette.

It is never appropriate to respond to perceived digs at your favorite show with racism, transphobia, cyberstalking, or threats to a person's life or livelihood. It doesn't matter if it's the most progressive, flawless show in creation in your eyes, there is no justifying acting like a rabid monster just because someone doesn't share your opinions of it.

Criticizing media is not a life or death situation; nobody is going to die because someone on the Internet doesn't care for your blorbo. Blorbo is a fictional device, they don't actually exist in real life, their honor doesn't need to be defended at risk of life and limb. And the average popular media creator does not need and should not have a vicious cult of personality attacking anyone who doesn't like their work or voices concerns about their behavior.

There was a good reason I left that fandom. Despite the media in question being lauded as a progressive milestone in adult animation, a lot of the fans were disrespectful, immature, and openly bigoted. I had to leave two Discord servers because of the fans' behavior. I posted a drawing of the one character that one person decided looked "wrong," and then proceeded to draw over my work while adding an ahegao face to "fix" it. I called someone out on posting a blatantly transphobic meme and got ignored. Any time anyone had a dissenting opinion, it got shot down with prejudice, even if it wasn't even negative. Not to mention, the behavior of the creator herself, being extremely transphobic, mistreating staff, and encouraging people to attack anyone who disagreed with her behavior or her work.

And Quill hasn't even voiced any opinion of the show, good or bad, in months; it's the HHB fans who keep bringing it up and antagonizing him, purely because his work also includes a unique interpretation of Christian mythology.

Basically, if you don't like what a person has to say about a media you like, just block them. Don't make a fuss about it, don't go "Ooooh, you're evil and bad for thinking that, so I'm going to put you on a list!" Just, ignore them and leave them alone.

It's not healthy to be attaching yourself so deeply to a piece of media that you feel any criticism of it is a personal attack. I know it's tempting to get into Internet fights for the satisfaction of ripping somebody to shreds, but trust me when I say that entrenching yourself in pointless internet arguments and harassment campaigns will not improve anyone's life, especially not yours. I wouldn't say I've harassed anyone myself, but I did wind up subjecting myself to months if not years of circular arguing with a 26 year old man as a teenager because I didn't like his crummy grimdark recursive fanfiction. Do not dig yourself into a hole like that, it won't go anywhere but down.

Anyways, be nice to people. Especially trans people, they already have enough bullshit to deal with.

[vermillioncrown]

Fuck you and your writing. What the hell. How tbe fuck did you make a tasteful brothel scene, how the hell did you manage to do all this shit. This chapter was fuckin heart wrenching. I wanted to see WWX get fucked up and then he did and it wasn't satisfying, but it was good writing and i liked it regardless. God. How the hell did you do this shit. What the fuck.

:^) thank you, i hit my target :^) :^)

=

because i really, really cared about getting the exact flavor of this chapter right, so much so that it took over a year.

the brothel scene is so important in what it means in the fic, which is more than showing that zyx fucked. or that zyx fucked a girl for real. or to do some questioning of sexuality.

(which i think i had to go through the five stages of grief when someone excitedly talked about it like having sex means someone is no longer aspec like... every day i am confronted by the fact we all coexist with vastly different perspectives on reality, and these realities are all true to some extent, sigh)

it's also not about being edgy and buying hookers, getting drunk, and all that.

so without using prostitution, nightlife, and sex as a prop and just being real with it, i hope that it doesn't come off goofy, edgy, or objectifying. the perils of trying to convey complicated feelings without therapy speak in-fic, and being really honest in someone's motivations and reactions (bc, unavoidably, it IS an SI).

the brothel scene and its whole fallout was so important, in fact, that i rewrote the entire order of the chapter. originally, the scenes were supposed to be in chronological order. logical, but it just felt like a boring recounting of events. sure, the events are fresh and we wanna see what zyx-mess happens next, but it's just a bunch of 'and then, and then, and then'. works for interlude chapters (ch8, ch15), but this really isn't one.

seguing, i learned a lot from how i wrote bil. dbd will never be as lean as bil, but it reminded me that when i drafted the fic, i focused on certain developments and ideas for a reason. also, since it's a chapter that doesn't involve too many canon characters, which let's be real that's usually the reason we stick around these kinds of fics, it needed to have purpose and be clear about what feeling it's trying to convey

even at the cost of simplicity in order of events

it would have been so difficult to keep the type of upset that zyx is feeling through a chapter that spans months, develops two interpersonal relationships, has a big oopsie, in chronological order without a too-angsty tone. too many periodic reminders would feel jarring and obtrusive, and exaggerate it. and that's also just not how zyx (i) deal with upsets, thank you adhd

and like, doing that for 10k+. (eternally i thank my readers for their patience and willingness to read so much bc people don't read fanfic for deep analysis and extra hw...) that's too much.

=

the second most important scene is the wwx duel, you got it. (i'd lump the lxc duel there, too bc those two are kinda related)

(sometimes i worry i made wwx too annoying. but then i talk myself back--it's always perspective. wwx isn't doing more than he already did in canon. we just have someone who can articulate how they feel about what he does, and he's not the main narrator of dbd.)

we get to a very clear demonstration of zyx as a character--it's more or less "i have no mouth and i must scream". here's your chance to be violent. you know you want it. do it. act out, make yourself heard.

zyx doesn't do it.

and you know what? i will be honest, truly honest here: i am sorry if you can instantly clock why zyx is the way they are, because for real 'recognition of the self in the other'.

lack of satisfaction--when you know what you wanted all along was for something to have never have happened at all, would punishment (displaced punishment) satisfy you? would it fix you? sometimes it helps, just for a moment. but i've answered this question enough times that i know i'd rather have never had to ask that question in the first place.

=

tldr: it's because it's a chapter about emotional honesty, and i as the author was really fucking honest and tried my fucking best to convey that.

[oletus-carousel]

Was there ever a time where you felt like you weren’t running at all for once from anything? A moment of peace or solace.

“Not many, few and far between, but they did exist."

The Exile murmured, eyes cast to the floor as her fingers wandered around her pouches. It was clear that she was searching for something, once more preoccupied, but the question was the source of it all. She wouldn't disregard that "task" - answering properly - so quickly.

Despite how cold she appeared, the young woman appreciated any contact she had, and strived to make whoever indulged her [apart from trapping her in that horrid room] feel a sense of satisfaction when they received their answers. It was her one duty until the games began in earnest, and a performance in itself.

"Mostly when I'd first come to the Manor, visiting Tracy and Burke. They were my source of solace in that horrible place, and Mister Lapadura taught me many things. He's the reason why my prosthetic exists, and also why it functions as well as it does."

She'd found a pocket watch, worn with age and golden shine scratched to copper dullness, with a faint etching of the Muse Mark on its front. This she held in her palm for a moment of silence. Though the clock no longer worked, she carried it with her.

"Tracy gave me this watch. I don't know when I'll get the chance, but I want to fix it myself. I want to prove to someone - or something, maybe even the passage of time itself - that her friendship wasn't for nothing in a tangible way."

[loved2]

221122

I’ll just say this month has been heavy as fuck.

My life has been so imbalanced since my birthday (oct 29) which has been frustrating to say the least bc i was very hopeful my birthday would bring more ease and just open up more paths for me. I’ve been putting in so much work this year and i feel more stagnant than ever at this point. It feels like all that work, time and energy has been put to waste. To make it worse, i’m very burnt out atm so i can’t even work on getting this sorted out lmao. Lost everything at the beginning of this year (literally) and it’s insane how i am continuing to lose things i didn’t even think were possible :s.

Anyway i’m so tired of changing, transforming, healing. But there’s no way around it i guess. I’ve been getting so many messages from others about the heavy energy atm. I’m hoping this new moon will lighten things up for us 🤍 I’m not going to recommend to work on yourself for the rest of the year or to complete the rest of your goals/plans or whatever. Just give yourself what you need. Even if it’s sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Let’s stop figthing to feel fulfilled and going after things that will give us temporary satisfaction. Listen to your body. Be kind to yourself. Let go of those fucking people if they’re weighing too heavy on you. Stop trying to be perfect or to “fix” yourself. Stop ignoring your emotions bc you’ve got shit to do. Maybe we just need to release everything instead of constantly taking on more.

Something that keeps coming up for me this week is “the body keeps score”. It absofuckinglutely does. Let us treat our bodies with grace please. With an influx of external energies the best we can do is be strong in our mind and body. The rest will come when it needs to. Let us be present. No more fighting for the future or concerning ourself with the past. It literally doesn’t fucking matter. What are we even here for if not this exact moment.

This time last year i was at my lowest of lows (seems to be a pattern lmao). I listened to Jessie Reyez - No one’s in the room (which i’ll recommend to anyone who will listen) everyday and journaled about it. I was taking 10K steps everyday bc i was going insane lmao. Helped me lose weight which i desperately wanted gone either way so i was happy about that. I was high almost everyday which allowed me to gain so much clarity. I built such a strong sense of self and i finally felt like i knew myself again. Also helped me to start planning for 2022 which went so well bc i started early and clearly knew what i wanted. So that extremely low period ended up giving my exactly what i needed.

This time around its different. I’m sober. Substances don’t give me the clarity i seek anymore so i don’t even do it for fun. I’m too tired to go on walks. People keep messing up my schedule and i can’t really say no bc of difficult (family) circumstances. Finally made some friends then realized these girls are just not a fit for me. Work is so draining and i have creative block. Healing is so heavy and it feels like its getting worse instead of the other way around. My health is terrible eventhough i’ve taken it so serious this year and got lots of consults. Even holistic healing isn’t going well. My family treats me like a slave and also doesn’t notice i’m crying for help but when do they ever lol. There is nowhere i can escape to. Not even my mind. I’ve been praying but it seems no one is listening. I wish my mother was still alive. My meditation practice feels so empty for some reason for the past 2 months. There is a lot to fix to say the least lmao. Either way i’m still optimistic about all of this. I don’t feel like venting everytime i come on here and i hate dropping all of this heaviness here so i’ll end it with this. I miss this space so much and i think i’ll come back soon. I’m using these 30 days to get back to myself in some way. I don’t know how it’ll go. Not working is not an option atm but atleast i’m not putting any deadlines for myself for the first time this year. No routine or plan or whatever. I’m just craving some shadow work maybe eventhough i do that all year long. Maybe a different approach this time. Also discovered i have a BAD food trauma which i need to get sorted out asap. I might also have magnesium deficiency bc no way i’m this depressed and tired. Also breaking ties with anyone who needs to go as if i have any ties to break at all. Doing whatever the fuck i feel like i guess. Trying to eat well. Hoping my meditation will go back to normal. Lots of journaling. Mirror work. Crying. Maybe i’ll do some reading if i can find the time for it. Baking, cooking. I’ll be spending most of day outside like last year but with my puppy this time 🤍 I’ve tried everything so this is my last hope lmao. I’m positive. I’m wishing you all the best my angels. Happy new sag moon, may this bring the expansion we’ve been waiting for 🐚 Btw my puppy’s name is Jupiter lol and her bday is nov 25! My little baby is turning one in a few days. I am going to cry. If there has been one highlight this year, it’s certainly her.

[keneestorytimelibrary]

CHAPTER 2

“Gurl, I wish I fucked them up more!" Caden said angrily, as he slouched over his small kitchen counter. He had just finished updating me on what happened after I left, and what their “punishments” were. Danny and Veronica received final warnings, with a four day suspension. Caden walked out with a three day suspension, and his first warning. Jack wanted to fire me for walking out on a shift, but Ryan decided otherwise. It didn't bother me as much if they did fire me; I don’t plan on working with Danny or Veronica again.

"But besides that bullshit, tell me exactly what you did!” Caden demanded in a drunken slur. He had already finished his fifth glass of Pinot Grigio, and was pouring his sixth. I was slumped over his small couch, trying to keep myself together. The empty gallon of Cookies and Cream ice cream and empty bottle of Jameson meant that I was going to have a “fun” morning tomorrow.

“Cade, you should have seen the mess I made in his apartment!” I exclaimed, my eyes fixed to the floor. For some reason, I couldn’t muster up the strength to lift them. I kept my eyes fixated on the small dent Caden made months ago when he decided to wear red Peep-Toe Mary Janes for Halloween. The cheap floor caved in the second he walked on it with heels.

“Rockey, YOU should have seen Danny's face when he and Veronica left the restaurant! I swear Danny shitted himself when he saw what happened to his car!” Caden rejoiced as he recounted the look of horror Danny had plastered all over his face. “The dumb ass is probably still there crying…”

‘I would have paid money to see Danny’s face…’ I thought to myself. The thought brought a small smile...and tears to my face. I thought I had gotten over the need to cry years ago, after my grandpa died. Guess not…

Caden stumbled over to me, and jumped onto the other side of the couch, landing on my feet. I made some room for him, though it was a bit difficult. After walking for hours, I had lost feeling on both legs. The air became heavy, as if I was being cornered in a hoarder's house. I knew he wanted to “talk”...

“Rockey...babe...I am so sorry this happened…” Caden said, reaching out to grab my hand. I could only squeeze his hand back; I didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“Why do guys cheat?” I asked, not expecting an answer from Caden. It was mainly a question that I wanted to ask myself. “Like, was I not enough? Did I mean nothing to him?!” Caden remained quiet, allowing my thoughts to run wild outside my mind.

I felt my body lift itself off the couch, and I found myself stumbling across Caden’s living room. Thankfully his roommate was gone for the night; I knew that my little performance would not be quiet to any degree.

“I mean, I work THREE FUCKING JOBS to help pay rent, and put gas in his car! I bought him so many things, including his stupid ass video games! I spent so much money on him, thinking that I was building a future! I lost so many years because of him. What the fuck am I? A 27 year old slob with no degree, and no place to stay!” I was screaming at the top of my voice; the thought of Caden’s neighbor was the last thing on my mind.

“But don’t think I didn’t get even! I fucked up his entire apartment! I sprayed painted EVERYTHING inside. I destroyed all of his appliances and burned his clothes in the park outside. And I smashed his video games and Play Station. I even sold his Macbook to cop weed!” The more I spoke, the stronger the urge was to cry. I didn’t want to...I didn’t want to admit how hard Danny affected me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction…

Caden jumped up from the couch, and slowly made his way to me. "FUCK MEN! Men are nothing but dogs! You deserve so much better!” He exclaimed. Caden could care less if his neighbor’s called the cops.

My phone began to ring, bringing me back to reality. Caden and I looked at my phone as if it were a foreign object. I had left my phone on top of the three bags I brought over. There was nothing but clothes, underwear, and my grandpa’s possessions. Whatever I couldn’t carry, I gave away. The walk from Danny’s apartment to Caden’s was two hours that I will never get back. And the walk from one side of Newark to the other was fun.

We looked at it for a few more seconds, before I stumbled over to it. As I neared it, I noticed Danny’s picture. ‘He was calling…?’

“What the fuck does he want!?” Caden demanded as he saw Danny’s picture.

“Maybe to curse my life out after the mess I made?” I said laughing. “The fucker deserved it…” I felt my hands move on their own, and before I could process what was going on, I answered the call.

“What the fuck do you want you lying piece of fucking shit!?” I yelled. Caden was beside me, trying to grab the phone. For some unknown reason, I did what I could to hold onto it.

“Rockey, baby can we please talk?!” Danny pleaded. It sounded like he was crying for hours. It was a neat trick he used before to get me to forgive him. I could feel a heavy feeling growing at the pit of my stomach, and I had this growing urge to hug and comfort him. Thank God he was not here…

“Just tell me Danny...why?” I asked. I could hear my voice crack. I was going to cry. “What have I done to deserve this?!”

Silence. I could barely hear Danny breathing. Caden stopped as well, as if he wanted to know the answer to the question as well.

“Have I not supported you? Was I not attractive anymore…?” My tears began to fall, and my words were getting harder to understand. “Was it because I was always working? Did she give you something that I didn’t? Did she make you feel special?!” I could barely hold myself together. It sounded as if I was choking on a fruit that would not go down my throat.

“Rockey...please I can’t understand you when you’re like this…” Danny said softly. I pulled the phone away from me, trying my hardest to collect myself. I hated how he made me feel like I was acting like a fool.

After a few minutes of silence, I brought the phone back to my ear. “Understand this…In a few years when you are alone, wondering why there is nothing good going on in your life, I want you to think of this moment. I want you to think of what could’ve happened. I want you to ask yourself why you allowed yourself to go astray. I hope that at that moment you understand the pain you put me through. I want you to understand how alone and humiliated I feel right now. I want you to waste years wishing you did not give up on us. I want you to feel this fucking agony. Then, and only then, are you allowed to call me and ask to talk! Until then, go fuck yourself you fucking cock-sucking, dirty ass FUCKWEASEL!” With that, I hung up the phone and threw it against the wall.

I collapsed onto the floor, crying harder than I have ever done. I hated this feeling! I hated feeling vulnerable and low. All I wanted to do was crawl under a rock and die; anything was better than this.

Caden rushed over to me, comforting me as best he could. “Rockey, listen to me… This pain is only temporary.” He brought my eyes to meet him, as he wiped away my tears. “Honey, Life went ahead and showed you that he was not meant for you. Lessons learned are not a waste of time. Feeling this pain, and embracing it, is going to make you stronger. You have a fighting spirit, and at times you are going to have to be tested. It is going to suck, but I know that you are going to pull through. And before long, you are going to look back at this moment and realize that everything you’ve been through has led you to a better future. A future where you learn to love yourself again. Where you learn to let go of your fears and anger. And when you learn that everything is going to be ok, you will find someone who deserves to be with you. Someone who appreciates the little things you do for them. Someone who won’t give you up so easily. Until then, remember you always have me.”

I gave Caden a weak smile, but it was enough for him. He gave me a hug and continued to hold me until I fell asleep. Whether I was ready for it, Life was going to continue pushing forward. I knew at some point, I was going to have to get up and move alongside it.

[mayday-and-daydreams]

( Day Eighteen )

{ Written on December 20, 2023 - 6:38 PM }

[ Nemo’s Headphones: Karma Police - Radiohead ]

-

(TW Suicidal Ideation n stuff, just be aware)

-

Sometimes

Every so often, it doesn’t really matter what I’m doing, but my eyebrow will hurt.

I reach up and rub my fingers over the scar there, from the eyebrow piercing I used to have.

The one I did myself.

I really liked the way it looked while it was there.

For once I actually smiled when I saw myself in the mirror.

Any pain was worth it for that brief moment of satisfaction when I saw someone I knew rather than a blurry face as my reflection.

Did you know piercings can reject out of stress?

I didn’t. I do now though.

I remember that when things got bad, all my piercings, even the ones I’ve had since I was nine from Claire’s, got infected again.

I wasn’t sure why.

I mean, looking back, I know why I didn’t understand, because getting worse was a slow descent down the hill, rather than an abrupt tumble off the cliff.

I didn’t notice when things turned gray because every day I woke up things were just grayer, and I stopped noticing anything was different until I saw in black and white and had to acknowledge that something was off.

I didn’t know piercings could reject out of stress until one day I just pulled it out of my face by accident.

I wanted to see if I could.

And I could.

There’s a scar there now, but you can only see it if you know what you’re looking for.

Can only feel it if you know where to touch.

It made me upset, then, and still does.

I couldn’t even get a cool scar out of this. That’s the least I could get.

No, all my scars are internal. All my pain is visible to nobody but me.

Hard to get somebody to believe you’re hurt when every wound you have is invisible.

But that’s just how it works I guess.

I wish I had scars, sometimes.

I wish I could bleed and hurt and ache like everyone else.

I wish I could show someone my wounds and once and for all prove to everyone, but mostly myself, that I’m not making this up.

It’s real. I’m hurt. Please help me.

God knows I need it.

Invisible Illness is killing me in more ways than one.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of future I have when I’m like this.

I got a job recently.

Two weeks ago tomorrow.

But it won’t ever be two weeks, will it?

I was doing well.

I was told so by my superiors, so I can only hope they weren’t lying to placate me or something.

I tried, I did.

It won’t ever be two weeks because I had to resign today.

I feel like such an asshole.

But I can’t.

I’ve been sick for nearly five days now with no sign of letting up.

Now, surely, getting sick isn’t a reason to quit your job, they’ll understand, and when you get better you can go back, right?

That would be the case if it were a cold, or flu, like everyone else has.

But I don’t know if what I have will ever go away.

I don’t know if I will ever recover.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not like everybody else.

I get so angry at myself that I can’t do what my friends do, can’t do what others my age do, can’t walk, can’t run, can’t get out of bed, can’t stand on my feet and work without being bedridden for days.

I get so angry that I’m not like everybody else. Because they can do it, why can’t I?

I’m just not everybody else.

Sometimes I wish I was dead.

I wonder what kind of future I can have here.

What kind of life I can look forward to when every goal and dream I had fades away as this stupid disability I have slowly gets worse.

I keep whispering to myself that things will be better when the doctors finally figure out what’s wrong with me, but I wonder if that’s really the case.

The others tell me that it’ll be okay, because when they find out what’s wrong with me they can fix me.

It feels sometimes, like I’m the only one who wonders if I even can be fixed.

Sometimes I wonder if I did something to deserve this.

If this is divine punishment of some sort.

Because what’s the alternative to that?

That I didn’t do anything?

That sometimes good people just have bad things happen to them and that’s the way of the world?

I don’t know if I want to believe that.

I want to believe I deserve this, somehow.

Because the alternative means that…

I didn’t deserve it, and this simply happened because…

I was just unlucky.

Sometimes I wish I was dead.

At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.

I want to scream and rip and tear and pull myself apart at the seams, if that’s what it takes to fix me, to find an answer, to understand just what exactly is causing this pain, this decay, this festering rot that plagues me from the inside.

I need to know.

Not knowing is killing me.

But at the same time, I don’t want to know.

What if it’s bad?

I am afraid.

I am so very afraid.

Sometimes I wish I was dead.

But sometimes I wish I was better.

I wish I never had to deal with this.

I wish things were better.

I wish things were better.

I don’t understand why that’s so much to ask for.

Sometimes I wish I was dead.

And that’s sad.

Sometimes I wish I was okay.

And somehow, that’s sadder.

[my-blog-about-stuff-111231]

my passion

My passion is cars, I love everything about cars and how cool they are how fun they are to drive, and all the things you can do to a car. one day my car started having problems running it would jump a lot and the rpm would go up and down I did some research on why it was happening and it ended up being that I needed to replace the sparkplugs so I went on YouTube and learned from there. at first, it was tough because I had to learn everything from scratch but by the end, after changing all my spark plugs and coils and re-assembling the air box that I had to take out to access the park plugs on the driver's side I turned my car on and nothing…. my car would not turn on and all he power was cut. I went back to look at the engine bay and it came to be the reason it wouldn't get power was because I didn't bolt a ground back onto the car so after bolting the ground back on the turned on and all of its problems went away. I love doing this because I learned a great skill the ability to fix my car and save a lot of money by not sending it to the mechanic and the satisfaction you get from fixing something you love feels good. another thing I fixed was the ac it was blowing hot air and I didn't know what was the reason so searched online all the different causes and what all the symptoms meant and it turned out to be the ac condenser but to get to my condenser I needed to remove my radiator partially to get the condenser but I also needed to remove the ac lines that were connected to the old condenser which was a major pain because it required to allot of strength with you didn't have the special tool needed to remove it and id rather save my money and just use some elbow grease. after taking the condenser out I changed all the O-rings put the new one back in replaced the radiator and put the fan back on. I would like a McLaren 720s such a nice sleek car built to go fast and for the track racing cats has also always been a passion for me I've played racing games growing up and I was always good at it I with to build cars into a track/daily build so I can take it to the track and have fun but also use it as my daily to commute to work and back. to do so I would need to lot of money and the first mod I would do is the suspension by upgrading the suspension the car would be able to perform better on the track and be more stable at high speed next would be changing my brake rotors slotted and holed discs so I can more efficiently cool down my discs so I don't get brake fade and after that, I would get bigger breaks; once I'm done with those mods I would install some performance parts and a tune that will allow me to unleash more power from the engine at the track then slap in another tune for when I daily drive it. once I am one with the one I would then install a roll cage as a safety measure to keep myself and the passenger safe in case the car was to roll over the cage would protect us. A helmet would be necessary as well for safety and I would also add a 4-point harness and an adjustable bucket seat for more safety and comfort. once I have done all those modifications what next is forced induction? forced induction is the process of forcing more air into the engine and more air = more power which is always a plus. One way you can go is turbocharging which is super cool and I would love to do so. another way to boost an engine's super which make a cool whine noise when revving the engine. the difference between these too is that the turbo will give you more top-end power but not much on the left end because there is such a thing called '' turbo lag'' which means the turbo takes time to spool up for it to make power. on the other hand, supercharging has more low-end power because it doesn't need to spool up but you will have ''parasitic loss'' which happens because the supercharger needs power from the engine to turn the turbines inside of it which takes hp from the engine so basically is taking some power from the engine in order to make more power.

[moving-on-little-ortist]

A Final Goodbye

It doesn’t have to be said. Sometimes, one’s actions can let you know: they’re saying goodbye. Stop trying to achieve something you have no control over. Stop wanting them to emphasize with you. Chances are, they never will. But that’s alright, it only shows who you need and who you don’t.

They were toxic for you. They were bad for you, and yet you were addicted to their presence like a drug addict and their heroine, like a drunk with their alcohol. You were addicted because them just being there gave you enough satisfaction and filled your brain with happy chemicals. You were addicted because pain was your safe place. All you’ve ever felt was pain, and if they weren’t there to cause you pain, then you had to make them be there.

You became the worst version of yourself. You were broken beyond repair and you expected someone to help fix you. But you don’t need help. You need yourself. Only yourself.

He will never read this. And the girl knows that. But that didn’t bother her. Nothing he does ever will. She told herself she was going to change. Change, she has made, and therefore she no longer needs him. He left because she was changing. She knows that that was his problem, not hers. Why he bothered being so dramatic about it was beyond her, but she doesn’t care anymore. Finally, after months and months, she can confidently say: “I don’t care.”

“moving-on-little-ortist” was a blog made to help me cope with my distraught and my addiction for the pain I felt when someone I knew was away. He and I had a long friendship. I used to blame my decline on him for breaking me and he would always argue. But now, I can blame him for breaking me and he won’t ever have to hear it again.

One of the beautiful things about final goodbyes is how they happen. This final goodbye is not beautiful, but the way I express my emotions are. Instead of being sad and declining into another depressive episode, will simply do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do: forget.

I never thought it was easy. It never was, and it still isn’t. But that’s due to the string I held onto. I’m finally letting go of that string, letting those precious memories both remain and fall into the abyss at once. The feeling will be there, but the person himself will not. That’s how it will always be. That’s how it should have been.

I’m not sure how it’s supposed to feel—getting ghosted for no reason and no warning at all. I’m not sure if I’m able to feel what he felt. But what I do feel is a sweet release. A release in mental tension. In other words, I’m not angry. I’m glad.

Nowadays, I will expect myself to be more happy. Without anything to weigh me down, my depressive episodes will hopefully decrease and my motivation will spike.

This is my final goodbye to the one who broke and blames me. The final goodbye to my source of trauma, distrust, and depression. Goodbye to he who had once ruled my heart, but holds it no more.

Goodbye, goodbye, the needle in my eye

For he was the one who left me to die

With knowledge my sanctuary would fall apart

Upon crushing my soul and breaking my heart

Goodbye, goodbye, sweet haven of pain

Who will no longer, in my head, will ever remain.

To express myself is foolish, I’m not one with words

So attempting to share is not something of worth

You are nothing to me, not even a memory

Only a feeling, you’re bittersweet gift of glee

Should I confront you, I will sign my life away

You’ll never know if I cried or died later that day

Forget about me, for you are forgotten

I’m glad you have left me, you’re demeanor is nothing but rotten

Goodbye, goodbye, the needle in my eye

I can see clearly for the first time in my life

[bomberqueen17]

ON CENSORSHIP

A little while back, I got a comment on a chapter of a fic I posted a few months ago, and the commenter was saying that some content in the chapter had triggered them. Now, this is something I really care about. I write a lot of warnings on things, both for PTSD triggers etc., and also just generally for content. A lot of people are going through tough times and like to know what they’re getting into in content they’re consuming, and I feel that and I agree with it.

This person wasn’t asking me for a warning, though. They were asking me to rewrite the chapter, and any future mentions, to remove or address the part that upset them (and any future mention of it!), to their individual satisfaction.

Now, fellows. That’s a different matter entirely. That’s called censorship. And censorship is something with which I do not agree.

I absolutely believe that no one should have to engage with content that triggers them. I think that’s perfectly reasonable. As someone goes about their day, they should be able to make informed choices about what they consume. This is why, and I am genuinely writing this largely because I want to make it plain for people to whom this applies that I am sincere about this, if you encounter things in my work that you wish you’d been warned about, I do want you to tell me, so that I can warn for them. If you still really want to read the rest, I’m happy to do those “to avoid upsetting content skip this section” notes at the ends of chapters. You should be able to access content you’re comfortable with, even if it’s in proximity to things you aren’t. 

(I do respect content creators who have realized they cannot accommodate this and choose not to warn, however. That is valid. I’m not judging that. And it’s an approach I might take with some works in future, I’m not saying I never would! Sometimes it’s just not possible, and you need to put up a flag to say that. CNTW is a warning, after all.)

The point of all of this, though, is that you, the content consumer, have to take care of yourself. I am devoted to giving you as many tools as I can to allow you as much enjoyment as you can find. But that is, ultimately, not something I can entirely do for you. Only you will know what you can handle, and sometimes, I’m sorry to say it, you’re going to encounter something that is going to harm you. It may be that even with all my best intentions at warning, I can’t render my content safe for you to consume. In that case, I am sorry for it, but that’s all I can reasonably do. The content isn’t safe for you, so you should not consume it.

But at that point it is up to you. You have to take care of yourself. This commenter was furious when I told them this, incorrectly interpreting this as a fake-nice brush-off on my part, but I was deadly serious, and one hundred percent genuine. I cannot be entrusted with your mental well-being, reader. I cannot hold that responsibility. Even if I tried, even if I bent over myself, even if I wrote only to spec, even if I custom-edited every chapter to avoid ever upsetting anyone, I cannot do that. There is no safe space that is safe for everyone. I cannot possibly make only correct choices for every possible reader, and still tell any kind of story, with any kind of integrity. Only you, individually, have the ability and the power to judge what is safe for you, to control your intake and manage your conditions and keep yourself safe.

If you find that my content isn’t safe for you, but then continue to engage with it anyway, that is no longer my fault. Asking me remove the content is not a reasonable solution to that problem.

(NB: It’s not that I will never edit something once published. I will edit a posted work to fix language that is unintentionally insensitive, for example. If I’ve misused a word, or mis-stated some point, I will very likely re-word something. It’s not that I will never edit a work. But that is not censorship, that is simple correction. Likewise, there are a lot of reasons I might change something as I’m writing it-- for example I might avoid writing about something a friend dislikes or is specifically triggered by, especially if that’s a beta-reader or someone otherwise very closely engaged with the story. And if I’m writing a fic to spec or to commission-- sure, the commissioner’s wants/DNWs are absolutely relevant there! But I enter into it knowing I’m doing that, and if I don’t want to, I won’t; it’s between me and the muses and people whose opinion I’ve sought. Sensitivity readers too! This digression is getting long but my point is-- a writer/artist may well entertain many viewpoints in shaping a story, but they’re all consensual. Coming by after a work is published and making it an author’s problem that it upset you, beyond a reasonable demand for warnings, is the subject of this essay.)

Censorship is a horribly slippery slope, and I don’t condone it in any situation. It doesn’t work, and it doesn’t help the people it purports to protect. This is why I am so conscientious in my tagging, why I work so hard to make sure things are properly warned-for. Because I do want to be accessible, and I do want my readers to have the tools they need to make good choices for themselves.

Only you can take care of yourself. Take care of yourself. I am not saying this as an empty well-wish, this is not insincere filler text. I am telling you that I cannot and will not do it, so it is up to you.

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨