#this was just so fucking comforting to write

[vinnyvamppp]

Hello! Can I request something with Mohawk mark? Or Sinister mark? (Or both 👀) preferably smut ?

Taking Turns

Note: WHY OF COURSEEEE, I'm so sorry if this is lackluster, after writing part two of the "To Be Desired" blog, I was BURNT. (P.S. If it ever gets confusing, I placed an "M" and "S" in certain areas to differentiate the two!)

Warnings: NSFW, Gential Slapping, Fingering, Head (male receiving), Nipple Play, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Pussy Eating, Threesome, Hickeys, Insults (slut ONCE), Switch/Dom!Invincible Variants, Switch!Reader, Porn w no Plot, Both are being played and don't know it, etc.

Sinister Invincible x Fem!Reader x Mowhawk Mark

Word Count: 1,665

Just how long has it been? An hour, perhaps two.

The night was young, and the party was just getting started. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and desire as his voice pulsed through your ears like a pleasant drum. A cocktail of pheromones and adrenaline thick enough to taste.

Mark’s head was pressed snuggly in the crook of your neck, the hairs of his mohawk splayed across your cheek as it tickled you. He watches for a moment, his fingers cupping the outside of your clothed sex, a smirk playing on his lips. “Holy shit… can you hear how wet you are?” He asks, his fingertips splaying your folds apart beneath the fabric. The sound alone sends shivers down your spine as the calloused pads of his hand stimulate you mildly.

His fingers traveled upwards to the hem of your panties before yanking them down, the cloth tearing with ease as you gasped. “Relax; I can always buy you more. You’d look so fucking sexy in white,” he reconciled, his lips latching onto your neck like a suction cup as he riddles your skin with bite marks, the contrast swelling him with pride. Heat radiated between you, the feeling of his cool tongue against your fevered skin sending electric shocks down your spine. Every shift makes your nerve endings hypersensitive and hyper-aware.

His groans vibrate beneath your skin as you shift against him, your ass seeking to relieve the dick prodding your lower back. His hand spreads your thighs further, smacking the lips of your cunt as he denies your every advance.

Fingers delving into your slick folds have you seeing stars; just how did this happen? You couldn’t be bothered to rationalize as his pace quickened, the dampness causing loud squelches to echo from between your legs. The pace quickened as he continued his sensual assault, fingers curling as his thumb circled your clit unnaturally fast. Your head lolled back, legs spreading wider as he applied pressure. “That’s right… fucking slut—.” He grunted as your fingernails dug into his thighs; he had gotten too comfortable to remember how feisty you could be.

No matter… he intended to break you down. Your body was already quivering from the meticulous game he played to tease and leave you writhing for more. As your hips bucked into his fingers, his hand moved from your thighs up the curves and valleys of your figure until he slapped your tit. The sting caused you to groan; he was enjoying having free rein currently. His fingers began to tweak your nipples as he licked a stripe up your nape.

That was until S. Mark approached, eyes landing on the sight in front of him. “Looks like someone is enjoying themselves.” He said, plastering that smile on, he stared with such a demeaning expression. Embarrassment flooded your veins. “Well, shit, it took you long enough…” He complained behind you, fingers only picking up the pace as your body attempted to crane away from his touch.

Padded footsteps fill your ears as Mark approaches, fingers clasping your chin as he beams down at you. “Not so fast; we’re not done yet. haven’t had my turn.” He explained, before moving to the other side of your lips, connecting with yours in unparalleled fever. Soft, chapped lips graze against tender skin, sending shivers down his spine.

The gentle pressure builds, your breath swallowing every groan vibrating from his throat. The pads of his fingers follow the red rash blistering from M. Mark’s earlier smack to the sweetened buds of your breast, essentially knocking his hands out of view. With the dual stimulation, your hips grind into the touch and your body gravitates towards its pleasure. Pulling away from the kiss, his eyes fell between your legs; you were practically dripping from being fingered.

“Look at you… pathetic. You couldn't make it to the real thing before you came, could you?” He asked rhetorically. He was toying with you, and he knew it. The sharp edge of his smile made it clear—this was as much a test as it was an indulgence. The pressure built at a slow, torturous pace, the kind that made time stretch to test his patience. His eyes ravaged you more than he could ever wish for physically.

Suddenly, the men flipped you sideways, laying you on your back as one's lips parted your cunt and the other's tongue toyed with your sensitive neck and breasts. Each is branded with a new set of hickeys. Both tongue-lashed tingles across your skin, your jaw ticking as you withheld noises; only then would their pursuits become brutal as a pair of teeth gently tugged against your chest. The sharp edge of their teeth against your skin was a paradox—pain and pleasure, warning and invitation, leaving behind a phantom sensation even after they pulled away.

“Ready?” A voice from between your legs spoke, his Mohawk coming into view as he stroked his cock, the tip a beaded red. Slamming himself inside you, his teeth gritted as he nearly let out a pathetic groan. Both men paused, staring at one another as you grew confused from the wind being knocked out of you. “Did you…?” Mark asked, with a condescending grin. “W-What? Fuck no, she’s just… tight.” He replied, shoving the man with annoyance. “You’re both pathetic, like a virgin, you can’t even handle—.” He started, only to be cut off by the sweet warmth welcoming his cock into your mouth.

They both paused before timing their hips as they began long strokes. Your walls clenched around him so deliciously, and your throat began to relax as you gagged on the length traveling down your throat. “H-...H- Shit… relax, babe.” He pleaded as his hips began to plow from below, his grip tight enough to bruise. The other Mark was nearly silenced: “F-fuck, I love it when you gag. Can’t… wait to see you cum on that cock.” He heaved, causing you to chuckle. The vibrations racing shivers through him.

It's a steady, strong rhythm as their hips begin to break out of tandem and grow sloppy. The obscene wet sounds of your cunt being pounded echoed through the room, mixing with their grunts and moans of pleasure. Your cries of ecstasy were muffled by the thick cock stuffed down your throat, pupils blown from lack of oxygen.

“Such a c-creamy pussy; why didn’t… I do this shit sooner?” Mark asked from between your thighs as his legs trembled with effort. “So pretty... l-like a doll. C'mon, cum for me… Don't be stubborn.” He said from above, although strangled as they both moaned a cacophony of sounds. It didn't take long; you simply felt too divine. How could they both stop, especially when your punishment had yet to be dealt with? They bring themselves to the brink of ecstasy, holding you there until their bodies are begging for release.

Only then do they finally come, your body buzzing from pleasure. Their releases just barely land on your body, fighting the urge to fill you to the brim as they groan and shudder above you. “This isn’t over.” One says, “Hey… we’re switching… need to feel that pussy before she’s too fucked out.” The other said,. The game continued like this, the men taking turns pounding into your dripping cunt and forcing you to choke on their cocks. That's what made it fun. The sight, the sensation, the thrill.

Every time they came close to filling you with their seed, they would switch, denying themselves the warmth of your cum coating their dicks. You could only have dry orgasms thanks to Mohawk Mark, but the sight of two strong men groaning pathetically above you was nice. Until they’re exhausted, you’ll keep playing this game.

Your eyes flickered open, the morning light barely peeking through the curtains. You must have lost consciousness. The weight of the two men pressing against you was heavy, but you didn't dare move. You had a part to play, after all. Not to mention your body ached from overusage.

As they began to stir, you kept your breathing even, feigning sleep. Inside, however, your mind was racing. You had them right where you wanted them—utterly spent and vulnerable. It was time to tighten the noose.

Sinister Mark was the first to wake, his hand instinctively reaching for your breast. You bit back a smirk as he grunted in confusion, his cock already beginning to harden against your thigh. Good, he was always so easy to manipulate when gratified.

Mohawk Mark wasn't far behind, his morning wood prodding against your ass. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, arching your back slightly. Both men froze, their hands pausing in their exploration of your body.

"What are you doing?" Mohawk Mark asked, his voice gruff with sleep and suspicion. You turned your head to face him, your eyes wide and innocent. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted this." You purred, nipping at his bottom lip. Mark scoffed from your other side. "Don't play dumb, slut. We know you're up to something."

You laughed, the sound low and sultry. "Oh, y'know. I'm just a girl who loves to please." You reached between your legs, wrapping your hand around both of their cocks and giving them a slow stroke. "Isn't this what you both want? To use me, fill me, make me your little fuck toy?"

The men exchanged a glance, their resolve crumbling under your touch. You could see it in their eyes—the hunger, the desperation. They were already falling back under your spell.

"I think it's time for round two, don't you?" You whispered, biting your lip. "Let's see how many times you can make me cum before you're both completely spent." And with that, you flipped onto your hands and knees, presenting yourself to them on a platter. The game was back on, and you were more than ready to play.

Tada! (I totally didn't just edit another 600 words into this.)

[tiramissyoucake]

I absolutely loved your viltrumite mark writings and I was wondering if you were thinking of making more because they are so good 😭💖

Hi hi, thank you! love Mark and I'm glad you guys like the Viltrumite marriage thing, here's a short one since I'm not sure how to write longer works

CW: forced marriage, fem reader, forced kissing (reader reciprocates so he doesnt get mad), tongue, I don't know what Viltrumites do besides conquer and be menaces to the multiverse ig lol

Your loneliest times were when Mark would have to leave Viltrum, it isn't because his presence was missed; you were locked in a vast empire confined to just the living quarters and bedroom with no access to anyone else but quiet servants who were threatened not to engage with you.

You had two options; sleep off the time or toy with whatever expensive gifts that were dropped off to the bedroom, you loathed his departure more than anything because that was when he'd be at his clingiest.

Your presence was required much to your dismay whenever he'd have to leave, he stood at the entrance. After he relays instructions to whoever he'd bring along he turns to you with the tone of a concerned husband. "Sweetheart," he breathed as he held your hand, a ring caging your finger. "I'll be gone for recon so it won't be as long as last month's invasion, it will be approximately 3 days."

3 days of peace, of silence. You nodded, you didn't exactly have anything to add. "Be safe." A dry request that he took as genuine concern from his wife, he smiled as his hand came up to kiss your knuckles. "You're cute when you worry, but you know nothing can touch me."

You prayed that ego would be his downfall.

Mark came closer. "Give me a kiss goodbye." His tone was sweet, but it was a demand for you to initiate affection, dark eyes filled with affection and possessiveness, like he waited for your validation. you restrained an angered look from flashing across your features as you cupped his cheek gently, leaning up to press your lips to his.

It was supposed to be a short peck, innocent and brief. His hands snaked around your body as he tilted his head to deepen it further, mouth slotting against yours melting as his moan was muffled by your lips, tongue seeking entrance to your lips.

Resisting him was always a headache, his hands against your back were unmoving unless it was to feel your flesh, you parted your lips as your eyebrows furrowed, squirming as he savored the taste of your lips, your tongue, your being. "Fuck- I don't wanna go.." he murmured between kisses, panting as his chest pressed to yours, his heart racing. "I'll be home soon, I promise- mmf, wait for me.."

His words sounded more like self-comfort than words to coax you to wait, your hands rested on his shoulders, Mark finally pulled away with a wet noise resounding from your lips, licking his own. "... You have no idea what you do to me, you vixen." You looked away, he wrote it off as you being shy, a grin on his face as he restrained the urge to cancel the mission and drag you back to the bedroom.

Begrudgingly, his hands slowly pulled away from your body. "I'm going now," he strained, his hand running through his black hair and adjusting it. "I'll send you more gifts in my absence."

You adjusted your disheveled clothes, face flushed as you breathed. "... I look forward to it, see you in 3 days."

He smiled, your obedience always drove him wild, those 3 days can't end soon enough.

[storyweavingspider]

I wrote this all out once and then tumblr ate it as it was posting so I’m writing it again out of fucking spite.

Instead of a basic transition timeline, I wanna write something for the transfemmes who had their transitions delayed because of someone else, who are scared they may never be safe to transition. It’s worth surviving until you escape and can create yourself, I promise you.

In 2016, when I was 20, I first started to have realizations of Gender. I was dating my most abusive partner at the time, a semi-closeted transmasc who forced me to stop exploring my gender because of their own insecurities snd internalized transphobia - and because of how abusive the relationship was, I stopped out of fear and banished the thought from my mind. We were together for three-ish years.

These photos are the first time I put on makeup for myself that wasn’t for a costume or performance, taken about 30 minutes apart in 2016.

In January 2019, I finally escaped them safely, and immediately came out as an any-pronouns enby who often had curated facial hair. I knew nothing really about HRT and didn’t have any transfemme friends I could talk to more about it at the time. I kept my presentation and pronouns fluid through 2020-ish.

I’m including a small range of photos from this period bc I want y’all to see me experimenting with femme looks as well as having masc looks. I also used breastforms/inserts at this point depending on the day/look. These are from roughly 2019/2020:

In 2021, I started hormones (pills), stopped letting people use “he” pronouns at all for me, and settled on “They” as my primary pronoun. I also started focusing more on styling myself femininely and figuring out what I liked/wanted.

In 2022, I started interacting with the local trans community a lot more and started injections/monotherapy, which I found worked a *lot* better for me than pills.

These photos are from 2021/22:

Over 2023/24/25, I’ve increased my dosages, added progesterone, and have found better skincare/hair care routines for myself. I’d like to have surgeries eventually, but that’s complicated by the fact that many FFS surgeons only know how to work within white standards of beauty, and don’t know how to preserve “ethnic features” especially for Black trans women.

I also stopped allowing nonblack people to use “she/her/girl” pronouns for me for complicated racial reasons (although I still use other feminine terms), added “Fae/faer” as my primary pronouns in addition to “They/them”, and realized a lot more about my gender! I still identify as a non-binary trans woman, however.

These photos are from recently:

I wanted to say all this because I never thought I’d escape that relationship I mentioned and get to be myself. We broke up a week before we would’ve gotten married. I didn’t have hope and I thought being able to be who I really am was just.. lost to me. And I was wrong.

Even if it takes you longer to get there, even if you’re not safe right now or don’t feel comfortable right now, it’s worth surviving until you can, I promise. I wish I had been able to be myself in those three years I “lost” too, but I’m so fucking happy to be who I am now. I’ve been through a LOT of trauma since those first photos, I’m not gonna pretend it was easy to survive until now, but it’s so fucking worth it.

One day you’ll get to be the one telling younger trans women how it was hard for you to survive until you could transition, but that it’s so worth it to keep going until you can.

Hi girls, let’s do something! Reblog to this post with a picture of yourself, or a transition timeline if you feel comfortable about it, and things that make you happy and comfortable about yourself! To spread a bit of positivity, and show the girls that are scared that there’s joy on the other side.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Used (drabble)

pairing: felix x afab!reader, implied ot8 x reader

genre: filthy smut

wc: 723

warnings: cockwarming, unprotected sex, partner sharing, degradation, praise, LOTS of dirty talk, creampie, breeding kink, reader is called slut

a/n: i'm in a lil writing slump so this is an attempt at getting out of it, enjoy (i guess😭)💕

You were currently lying under your best friend Felix, your legs wrapped around him and his cock buried deep inside your heat. It wasn't the first time he needed the closeness and the comfort and you were happy to be of service, letting him seek your warmth.

You were scrolling on your phone as he almost fell asleep on top of you but then you shifted just a little, making him groan into your neck.

"Y/n." he whined before lifting up and looking at you. You tossed your phone aside and gave him a smirk.

"Spread your legs." his voice was dark and a shiver ran up your spine, doing as you were told.

Felix started to move slowly, fucking your stretched wet pussy, his eyes rolling back at the feeling as he grunted.

You gasped, letting out a string of moans as you clutched onto him.

"Did you cockwarm the other guys like this, hm?" he asked, dragging his cock through your walls.

"Mm, yeah." you whimpered when his tip hit your spot.

"Tell me how you did it." Felix wrapped one hand around your neck, his other squeezing on your breast.

"I- I cockwarmed Hyunjin while he was painting." you started.

"Yeah? Did you let him fuck you?" Felix pinched your nipple, making you whine as he still fucked into you with languid movement.

"Yes. He bended me over his table and fucked me hard." you bit on your lip, your pussy clenching around Felix's length.

"Who else?" he smirked, pulling his cock almost completely out before rocking back into you harder, making you moan.

"C-Chan." you whimpered. "In the studio."

"Mhm." he squeezed your neck a little and you gasped, lifting your middle up to meet his thrusts.

"Did he fuck you good after that?"

"He fucked me so good." you whimpered as Felix gripped your thighs, pushing your knees up to your shoulders.

"And Changbin?"

"I cockwarmed him with my mouth." you confessed and Felix twitched inside you, the image of you kneeling with your mouth stuffed full of Changbin's cock made him weak.

"I bet you liked your little mouth stretched around him, hm?" Felix gripped the flesh on the back of your thighs as he fucked you a little harder, your pussy so warm and wet around him.

"I loved it." you whined, nails digging into the mattress under you.

"What about last night? I heard you and Seungmin." Felix smirked, increasing his speed and making you even more wet, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling up the room.

"He fucked me from behind. I even let him put it in my ass." you whimpered at the memory.

"Damn, you really are just a little slut, aren't you?" Felix groaned, rocking his hips into yours and making you moan as you clenched hard around him.

"I am." you confirmed, biting on your lip.

"Tell me more." Felix demanded, fucking you harder and making your head spin.

"I fucked Jeongin this morning."

"Yeah? Did you ride him like a good girl?"

"I did." you whimpered, so close to release.

"You wanna cum, slut?" Felix grinned, his fingertips grazing your sensitive clit.

"Y-yes, please!" you moaned.

"Cum around me." he ordered, flicking your clit as he kept fucking into you hard.

"Ah, Felix!" you fell apart, exploding around him as he kept fucking you through your high and chasing his own.

"You want my cum, slut?" he panted and you gasped, gripping onto his arms.

"P-please!"

"Fuck, I know you love to be stuffed by all eight of us. Want us to breed this greedy little pussy?" Felix grunted, fucking you so hard that you came around him once again.

"Yes I do!" you cried out and he exploded, ropes od warm cum filling you up.

"Minho told me to stretch you good for him today." Felix breathed hard before pulling out.

"Mm." you whimpered at the emptiness but that was soon replaced by four of his fingers pushing inside your fucked out pussy.

"So, I'm not done with you yet. You're gonna take it like a good slut until Minho comes to fuck you." he smirked at your teary eyes as he continued fucking you hard with his fingers.

You whined, spreading your legs more, happy to be used by all eight of your best friends.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog

[alanisstonedd]

mile high mackin'

NFL!ONY x black!reader

cw: MDNI smut with a very small side of plot, exhibitionism, fingering, cussing, p in v, cum eating, choking, dirtay talkin

an: i feel like this def deserves the sickening all nighter i pulled writing it. enjoy this meal baddies!!! kisses

.....yall join the mile high club with a QUICKNESS on a late night flight back home for the incoming season.....

like a thug - latto ft. lil durk

as your eyes threaten to close in the dim cabin of the red-eye, a deep, settled warmth washes over you. the soft hum of the plane, the plush first-class seat, the comforting scent of ony’s cologne still clinging to your skin—it all lulls you into a hazy state of contentment.

your mind drifts back to the last few days, the heat of the sun on your skin, the glimmer of crystal-clear water, the indulgent taste of tropical drinks melting on your tongue. and him. ony, with his hands all over you, fucking you senseless in your private villa, making sure you never went more than a few hours without feeling him stretch you out. the thought sends a dull throb between your thighs, a phantom ache that lingers even now, stuck on this plane, headed back to reality.

a small pout tugs at your lips. the reprieve is over. soon, he’ll be back in the throes of football season, grueling practices, late nights at the gym, traveling most of the time. but instead of dreading the time apart, a strange jittery anticipation buzzes in your veins. watching him in his element, seeing the way the world practically worships him—it does something to you. and god, the way he dotes on you after games, all sore and pent-up aggression, fucking you slow and deep, like he needs it just as much as the air in his lungs.

you shift slightly in your seat, the thought sending a slow heat curling through your belly. some movie ony picked plays on the screen in front of you, but you’re hardly paying attention. your body is still sensitive, still pliant from the days spent tangled in the soft villa sheets, and he knows it too. you feel the weight of his gaze before you even turn your head.

and when you do—when you see the way his heavy-lidded eyes drop to your lips, licking his own in anticipation. the way his thick fingers flex on his thigh like he’s fighting the urge to touch you—you already knowin'.

the movie was nothing but flickering light now, simply forgotten background noise to the real show he's putting on under the blanket. the dim cabin gave ony just enough cover to get reckless—his thick fingers dragging slow, torturous strokes up and down the wet patch soaking through your leggings, teasing, barely pressing where you needed him.

"ony, i swear-" you shift in your seat, thighs threatening to clamp shut, but his other hand rests heavy on your knee, keeping you wide open for him. "uh-uh," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, lips ghosting over the curve of your jaw. "be good, baby. let me feel you."

"ony- wait-" your breath shudders out of you as he finally slips lower, slipping past the waistband of your leggings, fingertips grazing your clit. the first real touch is so light, so taunting, it makes you jump, your nails digging into his thigh.

"mmm, she hot," ony groans under his breath, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, knowing whisper. "so wet fa me already. i was already knowin' baby."

you bite your lip so hard you swear you taste blood, but it’s useless—the second he slides two thick fingers into you, stretching you open under the blanket, your body reacts. your hips jolt forward, seeking more, your hand blindly finding him, and fuck, he’s throbbing, thick and heavy under his sweats.

"shit, ma," he breathes, gritting his teeth when you squeeze him through the fabric, his fingers inside you curling deep in retaliation. his mouth drops to your throat, mouthing at your pulse, sucking just hard enough to leave the faintest mark. "you feel that? how hard you got me?"

his hips rocked into your palm, pressing into your touch while his fingers fucked you open, his palm pressing against your clit just enough to make your hips twitch, chasing the high sitting right on the edge.

your nails dig into his leg as he works his fingers inside you with purpose, slow but deep, dragging along every nerve, every soft, soaked spot. the slick filthy sound of it is barely muffled under the hum of the plane, and when he presses his thumb to your clit, rubs it slow, firm—

your whole body tenses. fuckkkkk — you can feel it, the heat coiling, the pressure building, your stomach tightening as you chase it—

and then he’s gone.

his fingers slip out with a wet, obscene sound, leaving you aching, throbbing, clenching around nothing. a whimper catches in your throat, your eyes snapping to his, dark and hungry, his chest rising heavy with restraint.

he takes those same fingers, slick and shiny from you, and sucks them into his mouth. his tongue drags between them, slow, messy slurps and sucks, his eyes fluttering shut like he’s losing himself in your taste. his eyes roll back, body relaxing into the seat, thighs parting in a deep manspread to give you more space to work at him over his clothes.

a deep, wrecked groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls them out with a pop, thumb swiping across his lower lip like he’s trying to savor every drop. like he could get drunk off you.

he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, voice so deep and wrecked it made your stomach tighten. "bathroom." your thighs squeezed together, still throbbing, still aching for more as your hand kept stroking him under the blanket.

it’s not a request. it’s a command. low. gravelly.

you think you see his tongue darting out to catch the last of you on his lips as you scramble out of your seat, your body shaking as you bolt for the vacant bathroom.

you don’t breathe until you make it safely, letting out a ragged breath as soon as the cramped bathroom door shuts. you face the mirror, very clearly reflecting your wrecked state—face flushed, lips swollen, pupils blown, darkened patch between your thighs.

you’re sure anyone who saw you would immediately know that you were getting wrecked in that seat. before you could pep-talk some sense into yourself, the door swings open and ony quickly slips in behind you, locking it without a second thought.

"nah, you lookin’ too good," he rumbles, lips dragging along your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. his hungry, hooded eyes lock on yours in the mirror, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you watch him.

his massive frame dwarfs yours, and you feel him everywhere—his chest pressing to your back, his hands already claiming your hips, his print throbbing against your ass. "should’ve known you was tryna set me up," he mutters, hands greedy as they explore, squeezing your thighs, palming your already ruined core. your head tips back onto his broad shoulder, a soft, shaky groan slipping past your lips.

"you're crazy as fuck for this. we could get banned, ony—"

he chuckles, low and wicked, dragging his teeth over the shell of your ear before grinding into you harder, making you gasp. "mmhm… but... look at you, baby." his fingers dig into your flesh, hips rolling against you, rocking you back against his aching cock, grinding hard, letting you feel every inch of what’s waiting for you. "soakin’ through these lil’ leggings. you ain’t think this through, huh? lettin’ me rub on you like that, knowin’ damn well what im on?"

his huge palm splays over your belly, pressing you back into his heat, the other snaking under your top, gripping, kneading—pulling your tits free like he owns them. the contrast of the cold air on your heated skin makes you whimper, but his hands? pure fire. "mmhm, there we go," he rasps against you, rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers. "know you love when i touch you like this."

"we gon need a jet if this is finna be a thing—fuck, ony—" your words dissolve into a choked moan as his fingers dip, press, circle your throbbing clit just right.

"baby," he soothes, voice molten, all gravel and heat as he slowly tugs your leggings down. "relax. imma make my woman feel good wherever i see fit."

his lips trail fire down your shoulder, broad hands spreading you open before he pulls you flush against his clothed length. "mmmm.. shit…" ony licks his lips, his massive frame pressing you into the counter. his tongue flicks over his lips as he smacks your ass, the sound obscene in the tiny space. "imma tear this lil’ pussy up."

"ony—" you hiss, whipping your head to shush him, but the second you part your lips, his thick mushroom tip is already breaching your clenching entrance, stretching you wide.

"fuck, mama—" his voice shudders, thick fingers digging into your hips as he bullies his way inside, your dripping heat pulling him deeper with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips. "so fuckin’ tight… gon make me lose my damn mind."

your hands scramble for purchase, one finding the nape of his neck, the other bracing against his thick thigh. the stretch, the ache, the way his cock pulses inside you—it’s too much, but entirely not enough.

"ohhh—fuck—"

ony growls, low and dangerous, a hand snaking up to grip your throat, pulling your back against his chest, free hand palming your bouncing tits "mhm. look at you now." his voice is taunting, dripping with hunger as his other hand gathers your hair, yanking your head to the side so his lips can graze your ear. "whinin’ for me like you wasn’t talkin’ shit just a second ago." he rasps, licking along your pulse, watching you come apart for him in the mirror.

his hips snap, punching his cock deeper, and you choke on your own breath, nails biting into his skin.

"you gon’ be quiet, or imma have to make you?" his lips brush your earlobe, hot breath fanning over your fevered skin. he smirks against your jaw when you start fucking yourself back on him without even thinking. you try to nod, but you’re too gone, your body already begging for more.

"yeah, that’s what i thought." he grins, tongue licking into your open mouth as he pulls you deeper onto him, making your eyes roll back. "i better not hear a peep ma."

he pops the "p" before he slams into you, the pace brutal from the jump—thick cock stretching you to capacity, his heavy balls smacking your swollen clit with every filthy thrust, strong features furrowed in concentration.

your knees threaten to buckle, your grip on the sink useless against the force of his thrusts.

ony must sense it because a thick arm wraps around your waist, hauling you back against him as his hand slides from your throat to your mouth.

"keep it quiet, bae" he grits out, his fingers dipping into your open mouth, pressing down on your tongue. you moan around them, eyes rolling back as his pace turns brutal, his hips punching into you like he’s got something to prove.

the clap, clap, clap of your ass against his rock-solid abs is obscene, but your whines around his fingers continue to grow louder by the second, loud enough that ony growls, hand clamping over your mouth. "shhh, baby… i thought you was scared? huh? you want them knowin’ how deep i am?"

"m' sorry baby" you whimper into his palm, thighs trembling, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

"that’s right," he coaxes, relentless, ruthless. "gon’ cum f’me? give me that pretty pussy? his voice is deep, rough, damn near feral in your ear.

hes merciless, dragging that fat cock against every aching, pulsing part of you, splitting you open like he owns you. the obscene squelch of your soaked cunt clings to the small space, mixing with his ragged breathing and the heavy slap of skin-on-skin. His grip on your waist is bruising, fingers digging so deep you’ll feel him there tomorrow. Maybe longer.

"yeahh- gimme allat."

"fuckkk—i’m gonna—"

"mmm, cum, mama," he orders, pulling his hand from your mouth to shove three fingers through the creamy ring of slick coating his base. he licks them clean, groaning, before he shoves them between your panting lips.

"you like how that taste?" his eyes are wild, obsessed, watching as you suck his fingers like you’re starving, moaning around them as he pounds into you unforgivingly. he's dragging that fat cock against every aching, pulsing part of you with precision, splitting you open like he owns you. the obscene squelch of your soaked cunt clings to the small space, mixing with his ragged breathing and the heavy slap of skin-on-skin. his grip on your waist is bruising, fingers digging so deep you’ll feel him there tomorrow. maybe longer.

the heat crawling up your spine reaches a boiling point, your pussy clamping down so tight that ony grunts, biting into your shoulder, chasing his own violent release.

a hand slides up to your throat, squeezing, forcing your back to arch, forcing your fucked-out gaze to meet his in the mirror.

"look at you, ma. drenched. this shit all mine, huh?” he smacks your swollen clit, and your whole body jerks, a desperate whimper spilling past your lips. “tell me. say it, baby.”

your tongue is thick, your brain scrambled, but you manage to moan out a slurred, “all yours, baby. all yours—fuck!”

“that’s my girl,” he grunts, his fingers slipping lower, pressing against your stomach, feeling himself deep inside you. “shit—feel that? feel me right there, baby? you tryna squeeze me out, huh? nah, take it. take this dick, fuck—”

white-hot pleasure crashes over you, your walls clamping down as ony lets out a deep, wrecked groan, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you feel every inch of him, stuffing his cum deep inside you - his hips stuttering, curses muffled into your damp skin as he shudders, still grinding deep to make sure every drop stays where it belongs.

"fuck… baby…" his hands are possessive, roaming your spent body as he tenderly kisses the side of your face, both of you still trembling.

you watch him smirk down at where you two meet, pulling out slowwwww, watching the mess drip down your thighs. "yeah… we gon’ need that jet asap."

you chuckle as he cleans you both up, spinning to face him once you both are decent, "damn right. better get on that big daddy." you quip with a slap to his chest, as you head back to your seat, his smirk never leaving you through the steamed bathroom mirror.

©  alanisstonedd 2025 — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! likes and reblogs and all the rest much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋

[disaster-guys]

So, someone just liked this post from forever ago, and I realized that I never posted that I did actually end up writing something for one of these! It’s short, but I thought I’d share :}

I love you. Please don’t forget that. by me (booksy_bombus) on ao3, fic under the cut as well

@t1oui thanks for reminding me this existed, tagging you in case you wanted to read it :}

(since I now have a side blog for jercy I’m rebloging from here instead of main)

Jason hugged Percy’s back, head resting above his boyfriend’s hoping he could provide the other with comfort that he knew his words wouldn’t manage. Percy was shaken by the nightmare Jason had woken him out of but he wouldn’t talk about it. Jason knew most nightmares were memories, he wondered what this one might be that had Percy curled into himself, unwilling to talk.

—//—

“Jason, did you- in the first war did you have to kill-”

Jason felt Percy’s head turn against his chest, he felt the son of Poseidon pulling away. Jason wrapped his arms around him and pulled Percy closer, the demigod was rigid and shaking with unshed tears.

“Did you kill other demigods?”

Jason pulled Percy tight to his chest. “Oh gods Percy…” he breathed his frightened words into the black hair of his boyfriend.

His words trembled and he really wished they wouldn’t, “No. No, the titans didn’t recruit any Romans. I had heard that- I heard that one man was possessed by Kronos and that he died for the demigods’ cause.”

“Luke,” he sniffed, “he died," Percy swallowed, "he died a hero. He was supposed to be Kronos’ new body. Our downfall." After a shuttering inhale he continued, "He had the Achilles curse, he was impossible to win against. Luke took control from Kronos at the last minute, I still remember his eyes. They were so blue, so full of determination, full of tears. He stabbed himself. I was there, Annabeth convinced him to do it. I helped.” Percy swallowed again, Jason was running a hand through Percy’s hair, and he could feel the tears on his face.

“I also had the Achilles curse, you know, and Luke wasn’t the only one fighting for Kronos. His ranks were mostly monsters but my friends were there too, people I had known, even some that I didn't—people who'd been at camp and I hadn't even taken the time to learn their names. I- with the Achilles curse- I hardly even remember fighting. I was there and I was mad. They were taking the lives and peace of my friends, so," Percy let out a wet sob and Jason felt as his boyfriend shivered against him, "I killed. Riptide was in my hand, nobody could land a blow, and I left blood in my wake Jason.

“Monsters don’t bleed. Sometimes I think that they do though. Those kids weren’t but sometimes-”

Percy was shaking hard and started to really cry. Sobs that hurt to hear, heart-wrenching and quiet, gasps of shaking breath and coughing when his throat couldn’t handle the strain of muting the sounds.

“Don’t dare finish that sentence Jackson. I don’t care if you bleed gold or red or any other fucking color. I just want you in my arms and I want, god fucking damnit Percy, I want,” Jason rolled Percy over so they faced each other and hugged Percy to his chest, “I want you to be happy. You didn’t deserve any of this, neither of us did and you can’t blame yourself for a damn thing the gods decide to pull puppet strings on.”

Percy rolled until he was on top and wrapped his arms around Jason burying his face into his warm chest.

“I just- Percy, I love you. Please don’t forget that.”

flower language prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

❀ calla lily (beauty) — “you’re so beautiful.”

❀ aloe (affection, also grief) — “i miss them so much.”

❀ basil (good wishes) — “i just want the best for you.”

❀ begonia (beware) — “just be careful, okay?”

❀ gardenia (secret love) — “i don’t love you any less just because no one else can see it.”

❀ red chrysanthemum (i love you) — “i love you. please don’t forget that.”

❀ red columbine (anxiety) — “can you hold my hand? please?”

❀ daffodil (unequaled love) — “no one will ever come close to you.”

❀ edelweiss (courage, devotion) — “touch them again and i promise, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

❀ candytuft (indifference) — “i said that i didn’t care, but i lied.”

❀ holly (domestic happiness) — “i never want to leave this bed.”

❀ myrtle (marriage) — “i can’t believe it. we’re really married!”

❀ oak (strength) — “you’re stronger than you think.”

❀ aster (symbol of love, daintiness) — “i’m not fragile, y’know.”

❀ arborvitae (unchanging friendship) — “i’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

❀ blue salvia (i think of you) — “here. this made me think of you.”

❀ yarrow (everlasting love) — “i don’t think i’ll ever stop loving you.”

[22ayla21]

Can I request Amphoreus man's react to their wife calling their name in the tone they know 'they fuck up' and be send to sleep on the couch. I love men who sometimes scared of their wives.

Bonus if their children join them on the couch make them think maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Feel free to skip and I really love your writing ❤✨

"Honey, we need to talk"

They screwed up and realized they were now sleeping on the couch.

As soon as he hears her voice, cold, even and too calm, a shiver runs down his spine. He doesn't immediately understand what he did wrong, but he knows for sure that it is not up for discussion - he screwed up. And a harsh sentence awaits him.

He doesn't even try to argue. No, seriously, Mydei is certainly a mighty warrior and one of the strongest on Amphoreus, but he gives in to his wife immediately. His best strategies are submission and attempts at rehabilitation.

When he enters the bedroom, a neatly folded blanket and pillow are already waiting for him. He sighs heavily, realizing his fate for the coming night. Maybe if he is especially nice tomorrow, he will be allowed to return to bed?

But the real blow of fate is when the children come running to him. First one, then the other. They jump on the couch, make themselves comfortable next to him. "Daddy, we are with you!" They are so confident in their support for him in exile that he doesn't even know whether to laugh or cry.

Of course, they don't do it for no reason. First, they love spending time with their father. Second, they are simply curious about what he did wrong. The children begin to whisper theories: "Maybe you forgot the anniversary?", "Or did you accidentally break something important?", "Or maybe you ate the last piece of pie that Mom saved for later?"

The most annoying thing is that sometimes they guess. And when they happily exclaim: "Aha, so it's about the pie!", he understands that his life has become more difficult at that moment. His wife, passing by, only casts an expressive glance at him. He makes pitiful puppy eyes, but she already knows all his tricks. Not today, darling.

In the end, he resigns himself. He hugs the kids, wraps them in a blanket, and thinks that maybe this night on the couch wasn't so bad. But the next day, he does everything he can to earn forgiveness. Breakfast in bed, compliments, apologies - the whole package. And if he's lucky, he'll spend the next night in their shared bed, not in exile.

When his wife says his name in a certain tone – calm, but with such a hidden subtext that even the animals in the house tense up – Anaxagoras immediately understands: he has screwed up big time. Of course, he could object, try to defend his position, but no... He is too smart to push. Better to take the sofa in advance.

While he settles on the sofa, he thinks about what exactly he did wrong. Maybe he forgot something important? Or went too far in an argument? Or accidentally broke something that his wife valued again?

The children, noticing that their father is sleeping on the sofa, drag their pillows and blankets with smiles, settling down next to him. They say that they just don’t want him to feel lonely, but Anaxa suspects that they just like watching him being “punished”.

As they lie in the darkness, the children whisper: “Daddy, what did you do?” Anaxa is proudly silent – even if he himself is not entirely sure. But if his youngest son hugs him and says: "I still love you, dad," he feels a little better.

In the morning, his wife passes by, watching the "couch meeting" with a slight smile. The irony is that she is not surprised – she already knew that the children would be on their father's side. The next day passes under the sign of reconciliation: flowers, favorite sweets, hugs. In the end, he values his wife and does not want to sleep on the couch for long.

However, sometimes he still forgets and again finds himself in exile on the couch. But this is only part of family life – and he does not mind, because now he knows that he has allies in the form of children.

As soon as he heard his wife calling his name in a low, dangerously calm voice, everything inside him sank. He immediately understood that something had gone wrong. He turns around and sees her: crossed arms, slightly narrowed eyes and this expectant silence. No screaming, no emotion - and this is much more frightening.

A list of all his actions today scrolls through his head. Where did he screw up? What exactly did he do? Or, even more frightening, what didn’t he do?

He tries to justify himself, but her slight nod towards the sofa immediately makes him resign himself. A deep sigh, a proud bow... and a slow retreat to his place of exile.

When he has already settled down on the sofa, first one child appears next to him, then the second.

“Is mom very angry?” the eldest whispers.

“Will she forgive you?” the middle one asks.

Phainon only sighs and hugs them both.

It looks pathetic, but cozy in its own way. In the end, he lies on the couch with a couple of children's heads on his chest, knowing that at least he won't suffer alone. In the morning, when the wife sees this picture - her husband and children sleeping peacefully on the couch - her anger softens slightly. Maybe he has a chance to get his place in the bed back... but he may have to work a little more to atone for his guilt.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I love the poly vibes in thuyw and was reading your tags in the last post and , I keep thinking about all the different things going on, how everyone is pretty protective/possessive over our reader “she’s our girl”, got me thinking about reader also ending up really protective over “her boys”. Say a girl messes with one of them/upsets them/rejects them and they’re down in the dumps about it, reader going in to comfort mode. “Can I…can I help you feel better? What can I do?”

With those big doe eyes.

a/n: i know this was just a thought you shared, but now i wanna just take the opportunity to dive in and write a few headcanons because YES! that is so her that i already have notes scribbled down that are eerily similar

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

you’re such a people-pleaser

and if someone around you isn’t having an okay day, then you simply can’t help but drop everything to at least try and help

but those doe eyes of yours? uuuuhhh they get you in trouble with all the guys…..

you just want to help them feel better… well, they sure know something that could make them feel better…

having those big innocent doe eyes blink up at them and fucking tear up as you’re choking on their dick.

and who are you to say no? you did offer after all

“please? anything at all, i just wanna help make you feel even a little bit better…”

you did after all want to help and if that’s what they claim could make them feel better, maybe that’s not such a bad thing then…

and then the next thing you know, when word spreads around them that you were willing to get down on your knees and give one of them sweet inexperienced kisses all over his throbbing cock, purely to make him smile again

suddenly everyone is in crisis! dropping like flies! every frat guy is magically having the worst day of their lives (drama queens, we love)

bet they could get real creative too with whatever remedies might heal them up…

next thing you know, you’re letting a dude suck on your titties and litter them with hickies IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FRAT KITCHEN

or you're bent over the nearest surface with someone's tongue is doing unspeakable things to your untouched little asshole 🥺 making you all squirmy and wiggly inside 🥺

and just imagine if they all gang up together, lie and for example tell you that something really horrible went down with the rival frat that affected all of them

oh, so many sad frowns staring back at you…

and by now you knew how much you helped in those types of moments, how much of a pick-me-up you were for them

they depended on you

they need you 

you just couldn’t live with yourself if they spiralled into an even darker hole that you could have prevented...

...so whatever they may want, that’s what they’ll get. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

making it right - rafe cameron

content: 18+, angst, comfort from rafe

au: i’m trying to expand my horizons with writing smut !!

word count: 661

You hadn’t expected much from Rafe when it came to feelings, but you hadn’t expected that either.

The first time you and Rafe had sex, it had been… quick. Not in the passionate, desperate way that made your toes curl—but in the selfish way that left you feeling empty. He’d been rough, greedy, focused solely on his own pleasure, barely paying attention to whether you were enjoying it at all.

And when it was over? He left.

No soft words. No aftercare. Not even a fucking kiss.

You had laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that it didn’t matter. That you knew who Rafe was—he wasn’t the kind of guy who whispered sweet things or held you afterward. But it still hurt.

And Rafe noticed.

For the past few days, you’d been distant. Less responsive, less engaged, pulling away every time he got too close. At first, he thought you were just being you—a little moody, a little dramatic. But then it clicked.

He fucked up.

And Rafe never let himself care about shit like this before, but with you? It was different. You were different. And he knew he had to make it right.

So when he showed up at your place that night, there was something in his eyes you weren’t used to seeing. Remorse.

You barely had time to process it before he was crowding into your space, backing you up against your bed. His hands were gentle when they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I fucked up,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. “I know I did.”

You swallowed, looking away. “Rafe—”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted, tilting your chin so you were looking at him again. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched like he was frustrated—but not at you. “I wasn’t… I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t take care of you.” His voice wavered slightly, like he hated admitting it, but he meant it. “And I want to.”

You hesitated, your throat tight, your heart beating a little faster at his words. “Okay.”

His blue eyes darkened. “Let me make it up to you, baby.”

Rafe wasn’t the same that night.

He was soft. Worshipping. Taking his time.

His hands moved over your body like he was memorizing every inch of you, his lips pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I didn’t tell you that last time, did I?”

You shook your head, and his jaw clenched.

“Should’ve.” He kissed down your stomach, his fingers ghosting over your thighs. “Gonna tell you every time now.”

And he did.

As he touched you. As he kissed you. As he took you apart properly this time, making sure you came twice before he even thought about taking his own pleasure.

His hands never stopped moving, never stopped making sure you felt everything.

When he finally pushed inside you, it was slow. Deep. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice unsteady. “You feel so good, baby. So perfect.”

You whimpered, and he hushed you, brushing a kiss against your temple.

“I’ve got you this time,” he promised, and for the first time, you really believed him.

After, Rafe didn’t leave.

He didn’t roll away or pull on his clothes or act like it hadn’t meant anything.

Instead, he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Was that better?” he murmured, almost shy in the way he asked it.

You smiled sleepily against his chest. “Yeah.”

Rafe let out a quiet exhale, like he’d been holding his breath.

“Good.” His fingers traced slow circles on your back. “’Cause I don’t ever wanna make you feel like that again.”

And this time, you knew he meant it.

taglist: @littlelamy

[celuere]

MWAHAHA IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH >:)

Recs are finally open and I've had this one for about a month.

Can I get a very smutty oneshot of Arlecchino giving backshots while running her nails down (gn?) reader's spine. Either hole will do (idk if ur comfy writing anal 👀) but please include some moderate degredation, pillow gripping, and Arle going feral about dat back arch 😼

I totally understand if ur not okay with the content of my ask. I checked your rules and couldn't find anything against it, but I wouldn't put it past me to overlook it (sorry in advance if that's the case)

I'm so glad recs are open again, I fucking love ur blog.

pairing: dom!arlecchino x gn!reader

cw: strap-on, degradation, dumbification, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, forced quiet sex (the quiet is forced!!!! NOT the sesbian lex)

of course you can my fellow boxing champion!

will refer to readers hole as pussy, cunt etc as usual, what you view it as is completely up to you!

divider by @/jiyascepter

the hotel was quiet.

it always was at one in the morning.

if it weren‘t for the sloppy and absolutely filthy sounds echoing through the hallway. a bedframe slamming against the wall in a steady, almost diabolical rhythm.

room 456.

that room was assigned to none other than the knave herself.

„shut it. or do you want the whole hotel to know how much of a pathetic mess you are?“, a strong hand grabbed a good chunk of your hair before your head was forced down into the pillow, muffling your sounds of exhilarating ecstasy as if the bed wasn‘t already creaking loud enough to wake the whole city.

„tch. i can‘t even fuck my spouse in peace in my own hotel room.“, yes, your husband was indeed pissed at the lack of privacy, but she just couldn‘t wait until you were finally back at your estate. a negotiation required her to leave the comfort of her office at zapolyarny palace, something arlecchino always perceived as irritating and unpleasant. but this time it was a lot more endurable since you decided to accompany her. and she wanted to pay you back for it. she never forced you to sit through hours of nerv-ending conversations, yet you still sat besides her like the perfect partner that you are.

you mewled at the tip pressing against your g-spot, your back bending into a beautiful arch as you pressed your ass further into her, hands grabbing into your pillow as if it was the first time for your husband to take you to bed.

„look at you. shivering and crying over my cock like the whore that you are…“, a single red-painted nail traced the trail of your spine down to your hips, the sharp tip could count as a weapon itself. yet it left you all the more breathless, shivering as if she just dumped an entire bucket of ice-water over your bare body.

„i want to see more of that.“

in one smooth motion her hips pulled back until only the tip was left inside your cunt, the sudden backtracking causing you to reach your hand back in attempt to keep her from pulling out any further.

„w-wait- no-“, your action was only met by her slapping your hand away.

„what do i always tell you about keeping your hands to yourself, doll?“, the petname was accompanied by her filling up your greedy hole to the brim in one motion. stretching your further open on her cock while your arms immediately wrapped back around the pillow. 

but that wasn‘t enough to handle the pace she was about to set.

you‘d almost think she is fucking you out of spite rather than love with how deeply she was plowing her cock into you, bottoming out with each thrust and making sure the tip was brushing against that certain spot inside of you that forced the stars into your vision with each time.

„such a dirty, little thing for me…“

as if she didn‘t bring the strap on purpose.

you could only hope she‘d leave your abdomen intact… and the bed…

[tkomptgoedluv]

toothpaste kisses.

joost klein x f! reader

request: “could you write a fic with joost x reader where they get intimate and everything is fine and then the reader starts crying, but not because of sadness, but because of how safe the reader feels in their relationship, how loved he makes the reader feel and etc..(just overwhelmed with positive emotions). a lot of angst, but also a lot of fluff, comfort, happiness… like they dont stop being intimate, they continue and its like the best therapy. also aftercare!!!”

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, established relationship, literally the most in love two people have ever been, like if twin flames are a thing then it’s them, two freaks get freaky but it’s romantic <3, lil sprinkle of angst, lots of hurt + comfort, even more fluff, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,496.

warnings: mentions of past abuse, a very very vauge + brief description of sa, smut, rpf.

notes: hello my lovelies!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 thank you so so much to the anon who requested it, i hope you don’t mind that i put my own lil spin on it!! and also a big thank you to my gorgeous gorgeous @joosthead for already being this fic’s number #1 fan — i love you my junipoo!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

your fingers itched with the urge to rip out your own hair as you felt your stomach twist itself into another knot.

you’d done this to yourself, completely. you’d gotten yourself into a total, utter mess because you’d seen him again, after so many years of trying to pretend that he never even existed at all.

five years ago, you’d been seeing this guy, this absolute asshole of a man, and it had almost been the death of you. as always with guys like him, the first few months had felt dream-like; he was an angel incarnate and yet somehow, he was all yours. the perfect man, heaven sent, and yours.

you had been so sure of it — you were going to marry this guy one day.

but by the time that those rose-tinted glasses of yours had started to fade and you were finally starting to see him for who he truly was, it was too late. you had just moved to a whole new city for him, left your job for him, cut off each and every single one of your friends for him. “they just wanna see us fail, baby.” he’d said, “you’re better off without them.”

and for far too long, you’d believed that. for almost two years, you had put up with his bullshit willingly, because you’d loved him. even after all of those fights he’d started over nothing, all those things of yours that he’d broken because “it’s either that or i give you a fucking black eye or something.”, you still loved him. you only left once he eventually ran out of things to break and staying true to his word, started putting his hands on you instead.

looking back, that was the only promise of his that he’d ever fucking kept.

being without him had made you realise that you actually knew nothing about where you lived now, even though it had already been years by this point. that was why you had gotten so lost that day, that one and only birthday of yours that you’d spent all on your own.

venturing out of that shitty little studio apartment you used to live in had been brave, considering you had no idea where to go or what to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay indoors anymore. knowing you, it should have been a disaster and it honestly almost was, had it not been for that pretty blond stranger you’d stopped for directions. without him, you probably would’ve ended up god knows where.

luckily for you, though, you just wound up in his bed instead, and three years later you were still there. three years later, you’re celebrating your anniversary with him.

there was never any need for those rose-tinted glasses when it came to joost. no excuses or exceptions that you ever had to make for him. there were no more nights spent crying, locked away in your bathroom, far too afraid to come out because you had no idea what he would do if you did. no more days spent laying in bed because you were still far too sore to move after what he’d done to you the night before.

now your entire life is just travelling around the world with someone you never thought could be real, someone who’s talked you down from just a few too many ledges for you to count, determined to undo all of the damage that the guy before him had done. truly, joost was your best friend; the only person you’d ever met with such a pure heart of gold. the absolutely undisputable love of your life.

and he’d done everything possible to make today as special as he could for you, considering it was obviously also your birthday.

every year you tell him the exact same thing; that the day’s just as much about him as it is you, and that he really doesn’t need to make such a big fuss. and every year he never listens, always clearing out the whole day despite how hectic his schedule always is, just so he can make it all about you. one year he even turned down a spot on a festival lineup because the dates clashed and he deemed you far more important.

earlier in the morning, joost had woken you up with an orgasm so strong that you couldn’t walk for the first hour or two that you were awake. as always, he’d carried you to the bathroom after and gotten you all cleaned up, giggling at how your legs were still shaking, and helped you get ready. you’d laughed with him when he insisted on trying to do your makeup for you too, and had then proceeded to somehow get your eyeshadow everywhere.

cleaning up all of your now pink-stained towels had taken a little longer than expected but you still both made it in time to get breakfast at your favourite cafe. you’d had no idea that booking out an entire section of the place, just for the two of you, was even an option, but that’s exactly what he had done.

then it was back to the marketplace where you’d first met, and joost had let you browse every single one of the stalls. he’d bought you every single little thing that had caught your eye, only stopping when neither of you could carry anything anymore. you’d headed home only once the summer air had started to turn colder and spent the entire uber ride back gushing over the silly girl-stitch plushie he’d bought you in secret, just so you could have one to match his own.

in a way, that was kind of what had led to all of this. why you had gotten yourself so worked up, all teary-eyed and in such a state, whilst joost had you pinned down underneath him.

you really hadn’t seen him in years, not since you’d broken up with him, and he’d looked unrecognisable to you as he’d sat down just a few tables away. because that was just your luck, wasn’t it? seeing your ex at the same restaurant joost had taken you out to for dinner, dressed up all nicely in the suit that you had bought him all those years ago.

from that moment on, you’d been stuck with this dark, bitter feeling that had your stomach tied into all of those knots. your fingers itching with that urge to rip out each and every single strand of hair from your scalp. every bite of your ravioli suddenly started to taste off, almost sour, and you really hadn’t wanted to be there anymore.

it wasn’t because you missed him, because of course you didn’t — not even a little bit. you hated him, despised him actually. you couldn’t stand the very thought of him because for as long as you had been with him, he’d put you through hell and then some. it had taken years of therapy to get to this point where you weren’t having so many nightmares about it all anymore.

it was just that seeing him all of a sudden with someone new, a girl that he was absolutely fawning over, it had done something to you. from the corner of your eye you had seen how he was holding her hand on the table, looking at her with so much adoration that you’d realised that not once had he’d ever looked at you like that. not even once, not even at the beginning.

it never should have bothered you as much as it had. from the inside out, like a parasite, it was eating you alive.

and then joost, in the most wonderful way possible, went ahead and made it all so much worse without even meaning to.

because despite how disappointed he was that you so badly wanted to skip dessert, the milk chocolate cheesecake on the menu having already caught his eye, he’d taken you home the moment you’d asked. he’d been so soft with you as he’d helped you out of your dress, slipping the burgundy silk so carefully down your shoulders and holding your hands as you’d stepped out of your heels. he’d picked you up and laid you down on the bed that you shared as though you’d break if he was too rough, and kissed you everywhere that you’d needed him to.

he already knew that something was wrong — had done since the restaurant because more than anything or anyone else, joost knew you. you weren’t one to ever leave a plate half finished and you’d barely made a dent in your pasta. in a blink of an eye you’d gone from all giddy and energetic to solem, only just about managing to keep up with the conversation that you had been the one to start.

you just weren’t yourself anymore and he had no idea why, so whatever it was that was on your mind, he was going to do everything he could to help you forget about it.

and in the end, it was all too much.

the feeling of joost on top of you, weighing you down as he took such good care of you. the way he was being so unbelievably gentle as he fucked you, his strokes slow but still deep enough to hit all of the right spots. how he was holding himself up with one of his hands as the other grasped your hip and pulled you down onto him with every thrust.

at first it had you whining, mewling, and your nails carving straight lines down the skin of his back. you’d been louder than the creaking of the bed-frame, whimpering sweet, dirty sounds right into his ear. he always loved it when you were vocal like that — he’d told you so the very first time he ever had you caged underneath him like this.

but for the past few minutes you’d fallen uncharacteristically quiet, those near-pornographic moans of yours quickly turning into sniffles as tears began to wet your cheeks.

they weren’t the happy kind. they were the tears that people only ever shed when they’re too caught up inside their own heads.

how kind he was being with you, how kind he always is with you, all it did was remind you of just how safe you are with him. that to joost, you’re something so unbelievably precious and worthy of all this warmth. you’d been so silly earlier to get so upset over your ex, so stupid to have let it almost ruin your evening together.

joost had been too distracted to have heard your first couple of cries, too concentrated on watching it slide in and out to have noticed all of the tears spilling out of your eyes. he was a bit of a perv like that; always will be when it comes to you.

but then he lifted his head up, a grin tugging at the very corners of his lips, desperate to see that doe-eyed, cock-drunk look on your face. he wasn’t expecting to see you look so sad of all things, your eyes already all red and watery as you wept. he stilled immediately and moved his hand from your hip up to brush the hair out of his worried eyes.

“hey, what’s the matter? you okay?”

he hoped to hear you laugh then, reassuring him that you were alright and you were just feeling too many good things all at once. he didn’t like that you tried to hide away from him then, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you mumbled a quiet plea for him to keep going, because you were ‘fine’ and he didn’t need to stop.

“honey, no, you’re crying.” as gently as he could, joost pulled out of you and rolled off, leaning back onto his side of the bed. “what’s going on?”

you were sobbing into your hands now, still laying flat on your back with the duvet all bundled up around your waist. there was still so much of you out on display for him but for a reason that you couldn’t quite explain just yet, letting him see you cry like this felt like far too much. even as he gently tried to pry your hands away, you were fighting to keep them there.

“you’re scaring me, baby. what did i do?”

“no no no, jesus, no, you haven’t done anything, i promise.”

only then did you let him see you, not bothering to stop and wipe your eyes before you dragged him back down to you and curled up as far into him as you possibly could. you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you almost entirely on top of him, letting your legs all tangle together with his own. thick fingers raked through your hair as you laid your head down on his sternum, listening to the strong, heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

“then what is it, schat? what are you feeling right now?”

a small, blubbering giggle came out when you went to speak, a few more of your tears falling and dampening the blonde hairs on his chest.

“i just…i really love you a lot and i don’t always know what to do with that.”

the short pause that followed had you holding your breath, knowing that he wouldn’t but still expecting him to be at least just a little annoyed with you. with how badly you’d spoiled the moment, you wouldn’t blame him if he was.

“damn, i must be a lot better at the boom-boom than i thought.”

joost couldn’t even finish his sentence without laughing and how you groaned at it, nestling your face in the skin between his pecs, turned that laughter into a high-pitched squeaking.

“joost! i’m being serious.”

“i know, honey, i know, i’m sorry — was just trying to lighten the mood.”

you felt his fingers back in your hair, tucking random pieces behind your ears and brushing loose strands away from your eyes. each movement of his was somehow softer than the last until his hands were cradling your jaw and tilting your head up, your chin resting on his chest.

now that you could see how was he looking at you, with stars all in his eyes and an aching smile on his face, you felt your bottom lip start to quiver again.

“you know i love you too, right? so much.”

the noise that you’d made as you tried to nod your head, a quiet “mhm.” mixed with a sudden, sharp hiccup, made joost laugh again. he swiped each of his thumbs along the very tops of your cheekbones, wiping away all of the water that was still trickling down your face. you were yet to look away so you saw how something in his eyes changed and how that soft smile of his waivered.

“so then why all the tears, baby?”

you stiffened, your muscles tensing under his touch as you finally broke and turned your face away. “i saw koen today — back at the restaurant.”

and just like you had joost also froze, because he knew exactly who koen was; knew every last detail about the guy, in fact. he knew that koen was the reason why you hardly slept during the first few months that you were together, those nightmares of yours keeping you awake for far too many days straight. why you used to never really eat anything, either, because he’d conditioned you to believe that it was somehow ‘unattractive’ if you did. joost also knew that koen was the reason why you’d had hand-shaped bruises around your neck that very first day you’d met.

“that’s why i wanted to leave. as soon as i saw him i just…i couldn’t stay there knowing that he’s not rotting in that shithole apartment like i thought he’d be.”

you took a moment to sit up, the duvet falling off your shoulders as you wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand.

“i know it’s stupid, but seeing him there with a girl and the both of them looking so happy, i just, i never thought that he would change, you know? that he could change, because if so then why not for me? why wasn’t i enough to change for?”

joost copied your movements and sat up as well, taking your hand in his just to play with your fingers as he listened to every word.

“but then you happened, like, you’ve been so perfect to me today, just like how you always are, and it made me think about how lucky i am to have you. i should have never, ever cared, not for a second, about whatever the fuck koen’s up to now because i have you and that’s more than i’ll ever fucking deserve. i meant it when i said i was only crying because i love you too much to know what to do with the feeling -”

your little monologue, your sappy, word-vomit rambling was cut short when joost kissed you hard, his hands holding you steady on either side of your face. as gently as he could he guided you to lay back down, your spine meeting the mattress as his silver chain started to dangle in your face.

this was his way of shutting you up because you were doing it again. you were getting so caught up in the little things, so overwhelmed by your feelings, that you were just upsetting yourself, really. and you do that a lot. for good or for bad, you always let yourself feel such big things that it pulls you apart at the seams sometimes.

like that one morning a couple months ago; you saw a mouse on your walk to work. it’s little pink tail was missing, small clumps of it’s grey fur had been ripped out of it’s skin, and it had just been laying there, unmoving. you’d cried so hard over it that you got sent home before you ever made it in.

or like last year, when joost showed you an early demo of ‘last man standing’ and you’d wept in his arms for god knows how long afterwards. everything he expresses in that song the two of you had talked about before, you knew that was exactly how he felt, yet hearing him sing it had felt far more catastrophic.

“mijn meisje, you don’t ever have to do anything, okay? you’re already ‘it’ — you’re my dream girl.”

with a wobbly bottom lip you nodded, only barely holding yourself together as he grinned down at you, each of his hands beside your head, holding himself up.

“i mean it, baby. can i prove it to you?”

you could have melted right then and there. the way he was talking to you, his voice all low and breathy in your ear as he kissed you up and down your jaw, it was making your head spin. you nodded again, running your hands up and down the skin of his sides until he pulled back a little, that silver chain of his hanging in your face again.

“need to hear you say it, schat. we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“no no, please. i’m alright, please don’t stop.”

sitting up on his knees, joost took each of your thighs in his grasp and pulled you down closer to him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist and resting the other on his shoulder. with that gentle grin still plastered across his face he held his pinky out towards you and wiggled it, his eyes softening when you giggled.

“okay, but if you change your mind at any point, you gotta promise me -”

“- i promise i’ll say something.” you hooked your pinky around his and squeezed it before bringing his hand up to your mouth, planting a kiss across his knuckles.

you were going to be the death of him one day.

letting your head fall back against the bed, a small moan slipped past your lips when joost pushed himself back inside, easing himself in all slow and steady. he left soft, wet kisses along the skin of your calf and drew small circles on your clit as he quickly found his rhythm again.

it was cruel, really, the way he was moving oh-so painstakingly slow — how he was purposefully going too slow because he knew that it would have you like this. sweat already dripping down the sides of your forehead, handfuls of the white bedsheets in a tight grasp, begging him to give you more as you writhed on his cock.

you were just so sensitive to it all, weren’t you? so reactive to each and every single one of his touches. you didn’t exactly make it hard for him to taunt you like this, for him to keep dragging it in and out with a thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, knowing full well what it was doing to you. joost could see just how wound up you were getting, could feel you trying to pull him in closer by your leg that curved around his hip.

“fuck…you’re…you’re being mean, joosti.”

with that smile still firmly on his face he chuckled and stilled inside of you, moving his hand away from your clit to readjust both of your legs. your ankles were resting on his shoulders now, and the warm palms of his hands were caressing the skin of your shins.

“am i, baby? i’m sorry.” he placed another kiss onto each of your calves, his hands trailing down until they were squeezing your thighs. “how do you want it, baby? tell me.”

every muscle in your body clenched then, as a singular, sharp breath caught in your throat.

“h-harder.”

you felt him start to move again, his hips thrusting at that same, agonisingly slow pace.

“yeah? think you can handle it? think you’re ready for the boom-boom?”

the noise you managed to produce, something in between a snort and a cackle, was unlike anything you had ever made before. joost was in utter stitches over it above you, his head thrown back in laughter as he wheezed, tears welling up in his eyes. in a mere matter of seconds, both of your faces were bright red, your laughs turning silent as the pair of you struggled to breathe.

bringing your legs down and your knees up to your chest you wrapped your arms around your stomach, feeling that tightness in your tummy grow the harder you laughed. with your eyes squeezed shut, you hadn’t seen joost make a reach for his phone — hadn’t seen him snap a quick picture of you all red in the face and smiling, before playing the song on full volume.

he could barely hold himself up as he began to sing along, hiccuping over every other word as he giggled.

“this is my boom-boom; my love and desire!”

“no, no stop — you can’t do this.”

shaking your head, you were trying to push him off of you before he tossed his phone to the side and caught your hands, holding them together and keeping you firmly in your place.

“this is my boom-boom; set it on fire!”

“absolutely not! you can’t…you can’t sing that song whilst you’re still inside of me.”

he pouted, feigning a quiver in his lips. “but i haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!”

you tried to be stern, tried to stare him down with a frown on your face and a furrow in your eyebrows, pulling your hands free to cross your arms over your chest. you tried to pretend to be annoyed, but after a single moment of silence, the both of you broke. all over again, you were laughing hard enough for it to hurt.

making another reach for his phone, joost finally turned the song off as you wiped the last few stray tears of joy away from your eyes. you wrapped your legs back around his hips and pulled him down until you could weave your arms around his neck too, and moaned when he immediately attached his lips to that sweet spot of yours behind your left ear.

“hey.” his voice was quiet, coming out all muffled as he sucked, licked, nipped at the skin of your neck. “think you can give me one more?”

you felt him smile against you as you shuddered, your nails digging their way back into his spine. “make it two.”

you were waiting to hear him say it, some kind of sassy remark about how ‘you should be careful what you wish for’ or something along those lines, when he knocked a breath out of you. with a hand now holding one of your knees back as the other stayed beside your head, holding himself up, he slammed his hips against yours over and over again.

the sounds were obscene. you were biting into his shoulder, whimpering and whining from every thrust as other parts of you squelched around him, sucking him in. there was no begging for him to go any faster this time around, not when he was already pounding himself into you hard enough to have the headboard banging against the wall.

you were close to delirium as your eyes rolled back inside your head, the rest of you falling limp against the bed. the air around you was hot, almost too hot, and joost’s warm breath fanning against your neck really wasn’t helping. with how wonderfully out of it you were, you had to grip onto each one of his biceps just to feel as though you were still in the room.

“how you doing, honey? talk to me.” joost was grinning again, having finally parted from your neck now that he had left behind a dozen heart-shaped spots along your pulse-point. “does it feel good?”

he already knew that it did; he could tell simply by the look on your face. that gorgeous, brainless, cock-drunk look that he had been so, so desperate to see all evening.

you only just about managed to cry out his name, having long forgotten every single other word in your vocabulary. your mind was blank besides that because all you could think, all you could feel, was him. you felt him drop your knee and slip a hand underneath the base of your neck, cradling your head as he gave you no other option than to meet his eyes.

“you still with me?”

you couldn’t answer him — couldn’t form a sentence, couldn’t even nod your head ‘yes’. at first it worried him, made him call out your name as he slowed down just the slightest bit, until he felt it. you were squeezing him tighter than you had been all night, your legs all tensed up and shaking, still locked firmly around his waist.

small, babbling noises fell from your lips as your stomach began to twist itself up into a much different knot than before. the crease in your eyebrows deepened, your eyes widening as you stared back at a beaming joost. something inside of you, something new, was building up, and up, and up, and you were doing everything you could to keep it all in, too scared to find out what would happen if you didn’t.

“no no no, baby, shh, no it’s okay.” joost had seen the fear start to creep its way into your eyes, the corners of your lips start to droop down into a frightened little frown. prying it away from his arm, he took one of your hands in his and laced your fingers with his own, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss and your palm a soft squeeze. “i’ve got you, it’s okay. you can let it go.”

you hesitated; the cramping in your tummy making you wince.

“let it go for me, schat.”

and with a squeal, you did. you let whatever that thing was inside of you snap as you screamed out his name, clutching onto his hand tight enough to have both of your knuckles turn white.

the sheets were sodden from where you had gushed all over his cock. your lower back quickly began to feel all warm and damp the longer that you stayed laying in the puddle of your own mess, your legs twitching and your chest still heaving. you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears but joost was talking to you, whispering gentle, saccharine praises as he smoothed your hair back and away from your eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, mijn meisje. look at you — you did so well for me.”

the best you could do was hum in response, your cheeks all wet again from the tears that you hadn’t even realised were falling. though you still managed a small hiss when joost pulled out of you as carefully as he could, still half-hard and leaking from his swollen, red tip. confused, you grabbed his wrist when he sat up and went to reach for his boxers, immediately shaking your head ‘no’.

“but you haven’t…i promised you one more.”

you were so good to him; honestly a little too good. even after all of that, after you’d just given him the biggest ego boost of his life by doing the hottest thing known to man and squirting all on his cock, you were happy to give him more. you were already starting to doze off as you tried to pull his underwear out of his hands but was still so eager to continue, just so he could get off too.

joost just smiled down at you, holding his boxers out of your reach as he bent down to kiss you, his free hand grasping your jaw as he gave you a big ol’ wet smooch right on your lips.

“hey, don’t worry about that, okay? you’ve already done so much, been so perfect for me. just rest now, baby — you’ve earned it.”

by the time that he finished speaking, your eyes were already fluttering close.

you fought your hardest to stay awake as joost took the chance to stand up, only a slight stumble in his step as he slipped back into his underwear and a random pair of sweatpants. in fact, you were so focused on not falling asleep, you hadn’t even noticed that you’d drifted off until you suddenly felt an arm slip underneath your knees and another under the curve of your back.

you hadn’t been out too long, just long enough for joost to have gotten you all cleaned up. with one of the only towels from earlier that he hadn’t managed to stain with your makeup, he’d wiped up whatever mess remained between your legs and helped you into something a lot more clean and comfortable. despite all of the pairs of cute pyjama sets that you own, he’d decided that his old ‘i (heart) joost klein’ t-shirt and nothing else was better.

how you’d stayed asleep through all of it was a mystery to you, usually you weren’t such a heavy sleeper like that. but it had taken joost picking you up off of the bed, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you out of the room for you to come back around, your eyes heavy with sleep.

“where are we going?”

you yawned and tried to stretch, whining when you felt just how sore and achy your legs really were.

“we’re gonna go for a nap on the sofa, baby — bed’s too messy to sleep in tonight.”

even with how tired you felt, you still felt a pang in your chest. your sofa wasn’t uncomfortable by any means; it was big enough for most of your friends to all sleep on at once and comfy enough for them to not complain about it the morning after. but still, you’d made a mess. ruined a set of perfectly good sheets, probably stained the perfectly good mattress, too.

“sorry.”

“don’t say you’re sorry, oh my god.” joost wasn’t having any of it. if you hadn't of shut your eyes again, you would’ve seen him glance down at you, absolutely bewildered that you felt the need to apologise for such a thing. “i’m not kidding, don’t even try it.”

the soft cotton of the sofa cushion dipped underneath your weight as he laid you down on it, carefully manoeuvring himself beneath you before pulling one of the blankets down, tucking the both of you in. with his chest as your pillow now, you were already barely conscious when you heard him whisper in your ear, his arms wrapping around the dip of your spine.

“love you, goodnight.”

you were going to have to wait until the morning now to get his full, in-depth explanation as to why it was now his mission to have you do what you did tonight, every night.

“love you too.”

[philosophysicsuniverse-blog]

IMPORTANT REMINDER: CULTS ARE NOT JUST AN AMERICAN THING AND NEITHER IS MORMONISM. I'm not at fault and do not claim fault, but I still feel it polite to all the other countries that have to deal with Mormon missionaries. tl;dr: long rant about food and weird church cult crap. oh, it sucks. it full on sucks.

they do have really good food though which is how they get ya.

i say it as a joke, but thinking back, it's... not really a joke.

my mom and i were poor, so she'd take us out to churches and temples and other small religious gatherings. she did it to teach me other faiths (kinda like life of pi if pi's dad was the one encouraging it and if pi's dad was his mom)

but she also did it to feed me.

it's potluck style, but that just means hella leftovers. in exchange for a little caesar's pizza or something cheap from costco, my mom and i would get enough leftovers to eat for the whole week between the both of us.

it was fun time to spend with my mom because we would always leave early, and it's funny to think about, but... there's some fucked shit.

small kind stuff but also big kind stuff.

small kind like that time my mom and I stopped going to a church because we were being pressured into helping buy a piano for the pastor's daughter. like not even a purchase for the church that's really for the daughter, but straight up just in the guy's house. so much for house of god.

funny but then there's the big kind stuff.

there was this little pop-up church that rented a conference room in the nearby chinatown plaza. we didn't even have to bring food. jsut come in, watch sad christian kid with cancer feel good faith movie archetype b-52, and then we'd get to bring home a whole pan of vegetarian fried noodles. i'm talking like panda express party size trays but way bigger.

anyways, that was nice until they invaded my house, talked shit about harry potter (this was way before rowling got black mold), and said that i was touched by the devil because i had brain surgery.

we never did end up going back to that church, but it didn't stop us from finding another.

maybe this is me just reading too much into it, but food's a really good way to lure in the hungry, the desperate, the poor, the needy.

and yeah, this is all obvious. we know about salvation army, about the soup kitchens, and "safe havens" that have criteria and rubrics

but we don't think about how it affects us.

i didn't think about how it affects me.

maybe i skimmed the top, didn't go deep enough to get the truly traumatic and horrifying stories, but what little i saw was spooky, was scary to the point that I'll have to pause in the midst of writing a story idea, purse my lips, and realize that I do in fact have unresolved trauma from that church camp.

sorry for the long ramble, but... cults have been a part of my life in a myriad of ways.

not trying to offend anyone here, just thinking a bit too long and hard about cults, large organized groups, and how something that seems distant may be closer than comfort.

I'm enjoying severance but I'm finding I actually have very little to say about it. Like, yeah, corporations are evil and exploitative. They absolutely will disregard human rights whenever they can, and they do. I live in 2025 too. We been knew. This isn't even really a torment nexus, this is just reality slightly to the left.

[riverns]

⟡ werewolf shauna ( x caretaker f!reader )

genre: sfw + nsfw towards end warnings: mdni, g!p shauna, sub!reader, purposeful low caps, this is mostly season 1 shauna coded, jackie mention, breeding

⟢ werewolf!shauna who was on suppressants before the crash, so was pretty good at hiding it. of course, every whole moon she had to stay home, but, otherwise, no one knew, not even jackie. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who had only entirely transformed one time before the crash, and swore she would never do it again, solely because of how painful it was ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to shave daily ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to eat 2x more meat than the average person to stay healthy. her mom is tired of buying so much meat, she's joked about just moving to a farm or something ⟢ werewolf!shauna whose secret got out after the crash. ( you could say the wolf got out of the.... yeah nevermind ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who feels you're the only person she can trust to watch over her during full moons "fuck- y/n, go- go outside, please." she would plead, curling up into the corner, the attic creaking under her shifting, growing weight. her hands- which, resembled more of claws right now- were covering her eyes, as if she couldn't stand to look at you. "no, shauna, i'm here for you, whether you like it or not." you'd say from your corner, your voice somewhat shaky. shauna couldn't blame you for that, it wasn't every day you saw your teammate growing a mane of hair, a long, bushy tail and ears from the top of her head.

⟢ werewolf!shauna who grows protective over you after you show that you are a helpful caregiver to her. she's always by your side, giving you princess treatment for even the smallest acts. need to take out the shit bucket? she's coming with you and walking in front of you to make sure you don't trip, using her enhanced night-vision to scope out any pesky roots ⟢ werewolf!shauna who produces more heat than other people. she lets you and jackie cuddle with her at night, but no one else. ( she's always big-spooning you ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who- as she stays out in the wilderness longer, realizes that being in her half-shifted form is much more comfortable than being fully or not at all shifted. the girls eventually get used to her tail, even though she has to watch where she wags it ⟢ werewolf!shauna who brings you bones after she butchers something. sometimes, she chews on them when she feels pent up, but usually, they're more of a thank you for you nsfw under cut

⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a menace when she's approaching a rut. she becomes snappy, spends more time running around in the woods, and gets hungry much faster than usual, which is already really fast. not to mention how clingy she gets with you. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has an oral fixation, especially towards her rut or when she's in rut. if she isn't chewing on a bone, she's nibbling at your neck, kissing you hungrily, or - her favorite - sucking your tits until she falls asleep ⟢ werewolf!shauna who needs to breed you. the poor puppy gets excited so easily, even if she can just see your arms, legs, or a little inch of your waist- she's hard. she's constantly daydreaming about filling you with her pups ⟢ werewolf!shauna who when she gets the chance, is pinning you down or against something virtually anywhere. she isn't aware of her own strength, and can accidentally hurt you when she gets riled up ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is so talkative when she's fucking you. oh yeah, she doesn't moan, but she whimpers and grunts into your ears. "you're g'na be such a pretty mama" "fuck, you're s'hot- thank you- fuck-" "gonna fill you with m'pups" ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a slut for praise. call her dog/puppy/mutt and she's already whimpering at your feet, begging for affection

a/n: this is very inspired by @alwxyswlw 's werewolf shauna works, so please give them some luv!! nyway, let me know if you guys want more of werewolf shauna i love writing her :3

[rose24207]

Alright, I have some like crazy story ideas, I decided to request this one: so, I thought about like an illegal racer max x reader where he's very good, top of his country and then reader comes along, turns his world upside down (kind of 'steals his career', as he rambles about) and wins him, not only once, and they just kind of compete and it's all enemies-to-lovers type and there's just some angst (max is maybe a little mean, if you're comfortable with writing that)

Love your writing!! ❤️

"You piss me off" "good“

Summary: Max, the reigning king of illegal street racing, finds his world turned upside down when a fierce rival—you—steals his wins

Illegal racer!Max x illegal racer!reader

Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers, Angst, Rivalry

TW: Illegal racing, smut mdni!, idk what else

A/N: love the idea! Thank you for the request!

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Max Verstappen had owned the streets of Amsterdam for years. No one could touch him. Every underground race was his to win, every pot of money his to take. The cops couldn’t catch him, and no racer could beat him.

That was before you showed up.

The first time you raced against him, he didn’t take you seriously. A woman in the illegal racing scene wasn’t unheard of, but one thinking she could go up against him? Laughable. Max barely glanced at you as he revved his engine at the starting line, confident in his victory before the race even began.

Then, you humiliated him.

Beat him to the finish by half a second. The crowd went wild. The reigning king of street racing lost—to you.

Max had been livid.

"Must've been a lucky run," he muttered afterward, jaw clenched so hard it could’ve cracked a tooth.

But then you did it again.

And again.

And suddenly, you were the name on everyone's lips. You were the one people bet on. The one Max had to chase down. His wins weren't guaranteed anymore, and it fucking killed him.

Max hated you.

Not just for stealing his spotlight, but for the way you did it so effortlessly. You didn’t just race well—you raced like it was in your blood, like you were born to do this. Every race felt like a personal attack, like you were saying I belong here more than you do.

And the worst part?

You knew exactly how much it pissed him off.

"Not gonna run your mouth this time?" you taunted one night after yet another win, tossing your helmet onto the hood of your car. "That's a first."

Max’s fists clenched. The only thing stopping him from grabbing you was the sea of racers and gamblers surrounding you both, eagerly watching your every move.

"You got lucky," he bit out. "Again."

You laughed. "You keep saying that, and yet, I keep winning. At what point do you admit I’m just better?"

The crowd ooh-ed at that, waiting for Max’s response.

His blood boiled. He took a step forward, towering over you. "You’re a cocky little shit, you know that?"

You smirked. "And yet, you still can’t keep up."

Max's jaw tightened. "Fuck you."

"Sorry, I don’t sleep with sore losers," you shot back.

The people around you erupted into cheers and laughter, reveling in Max’s frustration.

Max hated you.

And yet, every time you beat him, every time you smirked at him like you knew exactly how much you were getting under his skin—he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

One night, after another brutal loss, Max snapped.

You were leaning against your car, sipping a beer like the race had been easy, like it wasn’t even worth celebrating. Max stormed up to you, ignoring the other racers, ignoring the way his pulse hammered in his throat.

"You think this is funny?" he seethed.

You arched a brow. "You losing? Yeah, actually."

His body was too close now, the scent of burnt rubber and gasoline lingering between you. "You stole my fucking career," he growled.

You laughed—actually laughed in his face. "Oh, please. If I stole it, it was never really yours to begin with."

That did it.

Max grabbed you—his hand curling around your jaw, tilting your face up to his. The air between you turned thick, electric. Your smirk faltered for just a second as his grip tightened, the heat in his eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite name.

"You want me to prove you wrong?" he murmured, voice dropping dangerously low.

Your breath hitched.

You should've pulled away. You should’ve shoved him off. But instead, you stared right back, refusing to be the one to back down first.

Max's thumb brushed your cheek, just barely. His touch was possessive, frustrated, hungry.

"You piss me off," he muttered.

"Good," you whispered.

Then, before either of you could think twice—

He kissed you.

Max's lips were rough against yours, demanding, hungry in a way that startled you. It wasn’t like the casual pecks or playful brushes you were used to. This was raw. It was desperate. His anger, his frustration, everything he’d bottled up from the last few races—he poured it all into that kiss.

At first, you were too shocked to respond. Your body went rigid, but Max wasn’t having any of it. His hands cupped your face, fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing you to let go.

And god, you didn’t want to.

It was like your body was made to react to him, to meet his heat with equal fire. You melted into him, lips moving urgently against his, one hand tangled in his hair while the other clutched at his shirt.

Max growled in frustration as you pulled him closer, feeling his chest press against yours, the heat of his body searing through the layers between you. His hands were on you now—everywhere—like he was trying to claim you, like you were his.

You could feel the harshness of his touch, the way he tugged you closer, grinding against you in a frantic need. His lips moved to your neck, kissing, biting, marking you as if he couldn’t get enough. And maybe he couldn’t.

You felt him against you, hard and demanding, and suddenly it was all too much. The passion, the tension that had been building for weeks now, the way he’d fought against you, tried to bring you down. All of it spilled into this one moment—one moment of chaos and need and fury.

You didn’t stop him when he guided you backward toward the car, didn’t protest when he lifted you onto the hood, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The sound of the crowd around you faded, the only thing you could hear now was the frantic pounding of your own heartbeat and the way Max’s breath came in sharp bursts against your skin.

"Tell me you want this," Max rasped, his voice hoarse, more desperate than you’d ever heard him.

You didn’t answer with words. You answered with your actions, pulling him closer, grinding your hips against him as if you couldn’t get enough either.

That was all it took for him.

Max’s hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes, working them off, but it wasn’t gentle. It was rough, like he was trying to strip away the last bit of control he had. And you let him—no, you welcomed it.

Your fingers worked at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, before running your hands down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath. He was everything you’d wanted, everything you hated and loved in equal measure.

"I fucking hate you," Max muttered between kisses, his lips trailing down your collarbone. "But I can’t stop wanting you."

You pulled his face back up to yours, kissing him hard, feeling that same fire rage within you. "Then stop pretending you don’t," you replied breathlessly.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[asheepinfrance]

I think you would write сute/comfort fic patrick× pregnant reader 🎀

ACKKKK thank you this is so. im so. i dont know when the last time i got a request was. thank you, deeply, for trusting me with making something you imagined come to fruition in some way. i hope this is something you can enjoy. im calling this one aubrey

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The words ‘Patrick Zweig’ and ‘commitment’ had essentially never been spoken in the same sentence. Of course, he wasn’t entirely a lost cause when it came to settling down, finding a comfortable life for himself with all the amenities a trust fund and pro-tennis money can buy, but he never, ever wanted to settle. When he looked himself in the mirror, saw himself getting older, a beard growing in that he was reluctant to shave and slightly more dull of a shine to his skin, he still never quite saw himself stepping into traditional adulthood. A 9 to 5 in a cubicle, answering calls on a landline and typing away at a too-slow desktop, carefully adjusting an old picture frame of the wife and kids on the corner of his desk? Not his speed. He preferred freedom with the occasional presence of femininity. He liked that he only had to clean should someone be coming over, that he could hog as much of the duvet of his bed as he so pleased. Hookups were frequent, spontaneous, and usually fairly good. There was an unspoken contract each time: We fuck, you can stay the night but not the morning after, we never speak again. Always kept up, never broken. Sure, you’d been one of his favorites, someone he’d actually spoken to for a decent bit prior to inviting you back to his. Someone he laughed at not to ease them into things, but because they were actually funny. He noticed a lot about you that he didn’t see in most people, from the shape of your teeth to the way the light bounced off your skin when you slept beneath his covers. He could almost feel something, and it made him sick, both to know you’d be gone the next time his eyes were open, and that he was still capable of doing so. 

And then you showed up again, positive test in hand. Precautions had been taken, of course, you weren’t both stupid, and yet, here he was, and here you are, standing on his front porch and asking for him to do something. What it is exactly, he’s not sure. Responsibility, maybe? A promise to pay some kind of child support? Be a father? How was he meant to do that when he hardly had one? He sure as hell couldn’t raise someone from childhood through adolescence up to the big eighteenth birthday, the precipice of mortgages and the reminder that holding onto life is as futile as trying to avoid its reality. Now this was his. And, still, you were one of his favorites. He would figure something out. 

Figuring something out, apparently, had meant calling his parents up for the first time in a few months. After the exasperated greetings, the dreadful small talk, and the false promises of an incoming marriage, he announced there would be a new (probably more suitable) heir to the Zweig estate, there was no question of if he was to receive some financial assistance, maybe even a small job here and there. Anything for the family image, of course. The proliferation of the Zweig family continues with Patrick, apparently. The least proper, least Zweig of all the people in his family to have ever bore the last name. Thank God for rich parents, he thinks each time he sees you. The woman he’s managed to start letting himself feel for, despite his initial resistance. He hasn’t seen you since he woke you up with a kiss this morning, pulling away just in time to see your eyes softly flutter open and your lips open like the red velvet curtains of a stage to see teeth. He pressed a kiss to your stomach afterwards, which was finally starting to show signs of the intense changes your body was undergoing, and you’d let out something between a scoff and a laugh, mumbling something about looking fat. He hadn’t stopped until you’d pushed at his forehead, and when he looked down at the swell of where the life you’d made together was resting, he saw the shining, wet outline of where his lips had been. 

Even if you’d only just begun to show, the differences between the woman at his door holding the most important piece of plastic he’d ever seen to the one now making a space in his home are striking. He’d been the one to hold back your hair the first time you’d been wracked by morning sickness, and each of the subsequent times. He never minded, really. He’d spent many nights emptying his guts into toilet bowls with a friend’s assistance for stupider reasons. He’d been woken up at odd hours of the night to fetch cravings (lately, it’d been butter chicken) or to rub away any aches and pains which had developed. It was a little unpleasant, sure, at times, but he wasn’t experiencing half of it, and he found himself just wanting to make things easier where he could, lost sleep and spicy smelling kitchen be damned. 

He can remember the exact date and time he’d felt his child kick for the first time, mostly because it had nauseated him to no end upon first impact. The idea of a living, breathing human being nestling itself inside walls of muscle and tissue, kicking around amongst the insides of you, made him feel horrendous until he felt it a second time. A living, breathing, just-about human being was doing the best it could at touching him back, and it was one he’d made. When he heard you laughing, most likely at the expression which had pulled over his face like a veil, he joined you. Wonderful. How absolutely wonderful all of it was. Your skin had changed recently. Glowy in a way his hadn’t been since his teen years. It suited you. Made you look almost like a goddess in your softness. He wanted to kiss you until your knees gave out. He wanted to hold you until he began to rot. He wanted to start the process of becoming a father all over again. 

On the way back from one of your appointments, poking and prodding at the taped down gauze in the soft, flat crook of your elbow, feet resting on the dash, he watched the road just a little less than he should. He can’t fault himself. The sun was setting orange, and it gave you the halo he’s sure was hidden behind carbon dioxide and thick, palpable adoration that surrounded you in his presence. He’d let you choose the music, the way he always did. He liked knowing what the inside of your head might sound like. A song he didn’t quite recognize on the strum of guitar strings and the vibration of vocal chords alone struck him. 

“Aubrey… that’s a pretty name, don’t you think?”

He hummed a bit, looking at the display screen to note the name. Aubrey. A not so very ordinary girl or name. 

“I don’t wanna name our daughter after a song by a band named Bread.”

Besides, if you hadn’t gotten your current name, or the slew of pet names he’d placed upon your shoulders, he thinks Aubrey would suit you best. At least, if the lyrics meant anything. He’d do it, though. Maybe if Aubrey was her name, then it’d place just a little bit of your spirit into her. He hoped he hardly had a trace of himself within her. He hoped she had your kind eyes and soft hands, your matter of fact way of approaching things, but the gentleness to comfort. He was too rough, he thought, even if you relentlessly insisted he’d only ever been soft with you. Maybe he liked thinking there was still a bit of toughness left to him outside of his professional life. Life with you wasn’t about winning anything, so he let himself relax. 

He thinks Aubrey’s not so bad.

[81pastrys]

hi coulsd you write something for dad lando where lila has a boyfriend, maybe other driver's son, and he doesn't know about it but her mom does. so one day lando and reader come back from a date night and they find lila with her boyfriend on the couch making out or something. this turns lando really protecive mode but reader reassures him and makes him apologize to lila for overreacting. thanks you hope you like it

When Worlds Collide

Summary— Lila and Carlo keep their relationship a secret from their dads until one night they’re interrupted

Warnings— teens making out ; Lando curses once ; protective dad Lando

A/N— I like this 🤭🤭

More of: Dad Lando ; Dad Carlos

Lila had told her mum almost immediately when Carlo asked her out and she said yes. She was so excited to have a boyfriend. They were young, sure, but they really liked each other. Her only stipulation was no telling their dads.

Lando and Carlos were ever the clueless at races when they saw their kids getting along. Thinking they were like siblings.

After a triple header Lando told his wife there was a dinner and he wanted her to go. Carlos offered for Carlo to stay with Lila so she wasn’t alone. Lando loved the idea. They’re like siblings! The two 15 year olds were ecstatic their idea worked.

It started out innocent, putting on a movie and cuddling under the blankets. They ate snacks and giggled together at the movie. Towards the end of the movie they ended up kissing. It quickly escalated and Lila was on his lap asks they made out in the comfort of her home.

What they did not notice, was the door unlocking and her parents walking in on them. They stopped when they heard Lando. “What the actual fuck?” He threw his keys and lunged towards them. Lila jumped up and looked guilty.

“Babe, stop.” His wife said. “They’re teenagers, leave it alone.” Why was she so calm Lando thought. Lila sighed in relief her mum got him to stop halfway to the living room.

He sighed angrily that Carlos’s son was slobbering on his daughter, his little girl, his sweetheart. He called Carlos and dropped the bomb on him too. “Mate your son was just eating my daughter’s face.” Lando said staring at the two, now sitting at the island awkwardly as he talked.

“Dios Mio Carlo.” (My god) Carlos sighed in Spanish. “I’m on my way.” Carlos was around 10 minutes away.

“Lando, they’re kids.” His wife was rubbing his back as he looked defeated at what he not only witnessed, but found out. “Did you think she’d stay single her whole life?”

“No, but I hoped she’d tell me before I found them snogging on the couch!” He said waving a hand at her. “How long has this gone on?”

“2 months next week.” Lila spoke up hesitantly. Carlo has yet to say a word. He looked up to his dad and Lando, to disappoint them would be the last thing he wanted.

Carlos came in and saw them. They all looked to him and he went behind his son. “Did you know?” Lando asked. Carlos shook his head with a simple no. He didn’t look too phased by the situation.

“You’re the only one worked up Lando.” His wife noted. “What if we talk about this in private?” He nodded and they went to their bedroom.

“Did you know?” He asked. She nodded her head. He put a hand on his forehead and paced. “This absurd.” He said. “You approved of our little girl dating him?”

“It’s not some random boy Lando, it’s Carlo.” She reminded. Lando absolutely loved Carlo. Always thought he was a great kid, but dating his little girl?!

“I know, I haven’t decided if that’s good or not.” He shrugged. She got him to calm down and they go back to the other three. Once they figured everything out, Carlos left with his son.

“What else did we talk about lan?” His wife perked up. He looked to her and back to Lila. He sighed.

“I overreacted sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He said. He pulled her into a hug. “If he breaks your heart I’m breaking his wrist so he can’t race.” He mumbled. “Who said that?” He laughed. “But seriously, as long as you’re happy Lila, so am I.”

This adds some fuel to my fire of ideas, anyway

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona