#could this create a dependency? would you start to need to make more? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

genericpuff · 1 year ago

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Tbh at this point you should just make your own webcomic app/website because it would probably be 100 times better than whatever going on with webtoon right now.

hahaha it wouldn't tho, sorry 💀

Here's the fundamental issue with webcomic platforms that a lot of people just don't realize (and why they're so difficult to run successfully):

Storage costs are incredibly expensive, it's why so many sites have limitations on file sizes / page sizes / etc. because all of those images and site info have to be stored somewhere, which costs $$$.

Maintenance costs are expensive and get more so as you grow, you need people who are capable of fixing bugs ASAP and managing the servers and site itself

Financially speaking, webcomics are in a state of high supply, low demand. Loads of artists are willing to create their passion projects, but getting people to read them and pay for them is a whole other issue. Demand is high in the general sense that once people get attached to a webtoon they'll demand more, but many people aren't actually willing to go looking for new stuff to read and depend more on what sites feed them (and what they already like). There are a lot of comics to go around and thus a lot of competition with a limited audience of people willing to actually pay for them.

Trying to build a new platform from the ground up is incredibly difficult and a majority of sites fail within their first year. Not only do you have to convince artists to take a chance on your platform, you have to convince readers to come. Readers won't come if there isn't work on the platform to read, but artists won't come if they don't think the site will be worth it due to low traffic numbers. This is why the artists with large followings who are willing to take chances on the smaller sites are crucial, but that's only if you can convince them to use the site in favor of (or alongside) whatever platform they're using already where the majority of their audience lies. For many creators it's just not worth the time, energy, or risk.

Even if you find short-term success, in the long-term there are always going to be profit margins to maintain. The more users you pull in, the more storage is used by incoming artists, the more you have to spend on storage and server maintenance costs, and that means either taking the risk at crowdfunding (ex. ComicFury) or having to resort to outsider investments (ex. Tapas). Look at SmackJeeves, it used to be a titan in the independent webcomic hosting community, until it folded over to a buyout by NHN and then was pretty much immediately shuttered due to NHN basically turning it into a manwha scanlation site and driving away its entire userbase. And if you don't get bought out and try your hand at crowdfunding, you may just wind up living on a lifeline that could cut out at any moment, like what happened to Inkblazers (fun fact, the death of Inkblazers was what kicked off the cultural shift in Tapas around 2015-16 when all of IB's users migrated over and brought their work with them which was more aimed towards the BL and romancee drama community, rather than the comedy / gag-a-day culture that Tapas had made itself known for... now you deadass can't tell Tapas apart from a lot of scanlation sites because it got bought out by Kakao and kept putting all of its eggs into the isekai/romance drama basket.)

Right now the mindset in which artists and readers are operating is that they're trying way, way too hard to find a "one size fits all" site. Readers want a place where they can find all their favorite webtoons without much effort, artists wants a place where they can post to an audience of thousands, and both sides want a community that will feel tight-knit. But the reality is that you can't really have all three of those things, not on one site. Something always winds up having to be sacrificed - if a site grows big enough, it'll have to start seeking more funding while also cutting costs which will result in features becoming paywall'd, intrusive ads, creators losing their freedom, and/or outsider support which often results in the platform losing its core identity and alienating its tight-knit community.

If I had to describe what I'm talking about in a "pick one" graphic, it would look something like this:

(*note: this is mostly based on my own observations from using all of these sites at some point or another, they're not necessarily entirely accurate to the statistical performance of each site, I can only glean so much from experience and traffic trackers LMAO that said I did ask some comic pals for input and they were very helpful in helping me adjust it with their own takes <3).

The homogenization of the Internet has really whipped people into submission for the "big sites" that offer "everything", but that's never been the Internet, it relies on being multi-faceted and offering different spaces for different purposes. And we're seeing that ideology falter through the enshittification of sites like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. where users are at odds with the platforms because the platforms are gutting features in an attempt to satisfy shareholders whom without the platforms would not exist. Like, most of us aren't paying money to use social media sites / comic platform sites, so where else are they gonna make the necessary funds to keep these sites running? Selling ad space and locking features behind paywalls.

And this is especially true for a lot of budding sites that don't have the audience to support them via crowdfunding but also don't have the leverage to ask for investments - so unless they get really REALLY lucky in EITHER of those departments, they're gonna be operating at a loss, and even once they do achieve either of those things there are gonna be issues in the site's longevity, whether it be dying from lack of growing crowdfunding support or dying from shareholder meddling.

So what can we do?

We can learn how to take our independence back. We don't have to stop using these big platforms altogether as they do have things to offer in their own way, particularly their large audience sizes and dipping into other demographics that might not be reachable from certain sites - but we gotta learn that no single site is going to satisfy every wish we have and we have to be willing to learn the skills necessary to running our own spaces again. Pick up HTML/CSS, get to know other people who know HTML/CSS if you can't grasp it (it's me, I can't grasp it LOL), be willing to take a chance on those "smaller sites" and don't write them off entirely as spaces that can be beneficial to you just because they don't have large numbers or because they don't offer rewards programs. And if you have a really polished piece of work in your hands, look into agencies and publishing houses that specialize in indie comics / graphic novels, don't settle for the first Originals contract that gets sent your way.

For the last decade corporations have been convincing us that our worth is tied to the eyes we can bring to them. Instead of serving ourselves, we've begun serving the big guys, insisting that it has to be worth something eventually and that it'll "payoff" simply by the virtue of gambler's fallacy. Ask yourself what site is right for you and your work rather than asking yourself if your work is good enough for them. Most of us are broke trying to make it work on these sites anyways, may as well be broke and fulfilled by posting in places that actually suit us and our work if we can. Don't define your success by what sites like Webtoons are enforcing - that definition only benefits them, not you.

#my favorite out of these is comicfury because it gives you the most control out of all of them #and you can offer monetization tools like ads and patreon links #it also offers super easy tools to help build your own site if you're new to that #it's as close to “running your own site” as comic hosting can get #but you can also learn how to run your own site if you want undeniably full control without fear of the platform host shuttering #also look into collectives like SpiderForest!#they basically operate as a co-op where people host their work with them and get ad opportunities #but you have to apply to get in #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #webcomic tips

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orphicsun · 8 months ago

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݁ ˖ ◜You're Vi's prison wife: 18+ HCs

•Vi who was never quiet in prison. She loved mouthing off, especially to the guys who had egos 20 times the size of their dicks. She usually stuck to using people for her own gain in Stillwater. Men were her entertainment, and women her pleasure. Anything between could serve as both, depending on how annoying they were.

•Vi who was sent to share your cell after she tortured some poor guy in the cell next to hers. The warden's orders were final, and she was banned from even stepping foot in that floor. You resided in the third floor for petty crimes, but you were a Zaunite, so of course you were given more time than necessary.

•Vi who was always either punching the walls of your cell or making sarcastic comments. It was honestly entertaining for you, a blessing in a place like Stillwater. She warmed up to you quickly, probably out of pure boredom and loneliness, but she didn't mind sharing a cell if it meant with a pretty undercity girl. She was starting to get...ansty, though.

•Vi who (mostly) jokingly asked you to be her prison wife. You laughed in her face at first, confused as to what the term 'prison wife' even meant. She explained to you, in great detail, that prison wives are like short-term relationships without the actual love. It was just a way to combat the loneliness that set in with the environment and to have a physical stress-reliever. Then she asked you forreal, and you ended up agreeing with the pathetic but desperate feelings that swarmed you. Everyone had the need to feel loved, even if it was pretend. It was just human nature.

•Vi who liked sneaking over to your bed at night when the guards didn't really care to do rounds after midnight. At first, it was for cheeky reasons such as talking to you, sometimes flirting around. Then, she'd plop down onto your bed and pull you in for late-night make-out sessions. Her lips felt so warm against yours, even if they were chapped and she was rather brash. Her kisses felt desperate in a sense, as she always sought out your tongue with hers, and after the first few times, quiet laughs and small sessions turned into her mouth finding its way down your body, her eyes remaining on yours as she ate you out like you were a Michelin-level meal in a world of canned beans.

•Vi who was a MUNCH. She loved taking her time, smothering her wet, sloppy kisses all over your thighs in the late hours until you cursed under your breath and only encouraged more. Fuck, she loved taking care of her prison wife. She'd finally slide her tongue between your slick folds, dipping deeper into your hole and letting her nose brush up against your swollen bud. Soon, she'd attend the mass that was your clit, her tongue swirling around it as she used her heavy hands to pry your legs further apart. You would be dumbed down to absolutely nothing, a blabbering slut for her to mold however she wanted. You would beg for mercy after the third orgasm, and Vi would feign sweetness, climbing up your body to clamp a hand over your mouth. When you finally began to relax, she gave you a shit-eating grin and slid two(or three if you can handle it) digits into your cunt, loving the way your whines created vibrations through her other hand that muffled your sounds.

•Vi who was more than just pleasure for you. Being a wife and all is always more than what you get from simply fucking. For instance: the prison food in Stillwater was unbelievably horrible, but you did like the peaches they'd serve. Vi, like clockwork, would shuffle over to you and hold out her tray to you, peaches the only uneaten food. In return, you had her back. If a guard asked you if Vi had anything to do with the guy with a broken nose? You didn't see a thing.

•Vi who was obsessed with your tits. Sometimes, she'd spend what felt like hours with her mouth latched onto one of your nipples, your breathing heavy from the pure intensity of her touch. She wouldn't even need to fuck you on those nights, and if she did she'd still have a hand groping a tit while she had her head buried between your thighs, or leave hickies on both as her fingers sought deep inside you.

•Vi who noticed you had a huge problem with not being able to shut up during sex, so she opted for slipping her fingers into your mouth. That choice turned out much different than she had even hoped for, because the feeling of your soft, wet tongue swirling around and tasting her skin? God, it’d send jolts straight to her core. It became a routine to practically finger-fuck your mouth while she was actually finger-fucking you.

•Vi who fell much harder for you than she should've. She wasn't immune to feelings, but at least tried to keep everything impersonal in prison. You, however, wrecked any efforts she made. You were addictive and made her weak in the knees with a smile. You were somehow so soft and sweet, and you didn't truly belong in a cell. Still, she was grateful you were, so she could have you all to herself for as long as possible.

•Vi who got out a few months before you, and when you finally returned to the under-city, she didn't hesitate to stake a claim on you forreal. You were hers, inside or outside of that fucked up prison. Just now, she could have you moan as loudly as she could possibly cause, and she could fuck you in her own bed.

#i need vi so bad guys #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #arcane #vi x fem reader #violet arcane #lesbian sex #lesbian #arcane headcanon #vi headcanons

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dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling · 5 months ago

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CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me.

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

#doey #doey x player #doey x reader #doey the doughman #doey ppt #poppy playtime doey #ppt x reader #ppt fanfiction #ppt hc #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime headcanon #poppy playtime x player #ppt player

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spencersmopbucket · 3 months ago

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Behind the Ribcage | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: You're Spencer's best friend & his case partner — but things get weirdly distant after you begin dating a local cop. Themes & Warnings: jealous!Spence, violence, angst with happy ending really. This is very self indulgent tbh, theres a reference to Toby Cavanaugh from PLL bc he's my favorite hot cop

When you'd joined the BAU, you'd taken the place by storm. You were a new agent — smart, strong, calculating, charismatic, feisty — everything that the ideal agent had. You were immediately wrapped into the crazy world that was profiling, fitting in like the missing puzzle piece.

Despite being a lot different than him, you clicked almost instantly with the BAU's Spencer Reid, boy genius.

You were fire, and he was water — fast mouth and fast fists when needed, where he was all statistics and careful dissection. But somehow, it worked. You’d been paired together almost from the start, assigned as partners on cases, and over the months it became second nature. If he moved, you moved. If you spoke, he listened. And you always had his six.

Hotch had done it perfectly, just as he'd figured. When he paired you together, he'd created an unstoppable duo. Someone to ground Spencer, to make him stronger, and someone to rationalize you and introduce you more to critical thinking and less to impulse.

Spencer would never admit to how much he’d grown dependent on that rhythm — on you. On knowing you’d be at his side in every hotel, briefing, and takedown. On the way you’d toss him a protein bar when he forgot to eat or let your fingers linger on his wrist a little too long after passing him a file.

And you would never acknowledge how right Aaron Hotchner had been. Spencer taught you not to always rush in, not to fight fire with fire. Sometimes it took calculation, plotting, manipulation. He was also just a comforting presence, someone to run cold water over a wound or to have your back when talking down an unsub. He was your constant. Consistently there for you. You never had to guess if you'd have Spencer.

When you met Cavanaugh, it was almost as if the feelings of comfort amplified. But they weren't about just Spencer anymore.

Toby Cavanaugh was a local cop the team had partnered with during a particularly brutal serial assault case in Pennsylvania. Handsome in a carved-from-stone kind of way, quiet but not shy, with this protective edge that felt so familiar to you — like an echo of everything you thought you wanted.

He was solid. Calm. Confident in a way that didn’t feel arrogant. He treated you like an equal, didn’t flinch when you challenged him in a briefing, and didn’t blink when you barked orders during a takedown. You respected him immediately — and, more dangerously, you liked him too. You liked him so much.

He had these blue eyes that could read right through you. He was broad and muscular. Any woman had to admit that Detective Cavanaugh was easy on the eyes.

You liked the way his hand always brushed your lower back when he walked past. The way he called you “agent” like it was some sort of nickname. You liked that he offered to drive you to the hotel when the case wrapped, and you liked the way his voice dropped when he asked, “Can I see you again?”

And you didn’t think twice about saying yes.

From there on out, Toby, not Cavanaugh, was showing up everywhere for you. On the job, he protected you ruthlessly, shoving back any threat that came within 10 feet. Outside of the job, he picked you up from work if he wasn't on shift. He cooked you dinner and ran you baths to relax you. He held you while you slept, warding off nightmares about awful cases you'd seen.

It was good. Maybe too good. The universe probably sensed that you were too happy and too content.

Because slowly — almost imperceptibly — the patterns began to change.

Spencer changed.

At first, it was small things. He stopped joining you at the coffee machine in the mornings, where you'd usually trade quiet smiles and inside jokes while everyone else wiped sleep from their eyes. He stopped waiting for you after briefings, letting you catch up instead of walking with you in perfect sync like he always had.

Then it got worse.

He started volunteering for assignments without you — walking into Hotch’s office before you had a chance to speak. He’d take files from JJ without passing them to you first. On one occasion, he even snapped at you during a suspect interview, interrupting mid-question to redirect.

You blinked at him across the table, stunned.

He didn’t even look at you after.

That night, you got home late. Your body ached, your brain burned, and as you stepped into the familiar warmth of your apartment, you saw Toby in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, plating pasta and pouring wine like he was some domestic god.

He took one look at your face and said, “Rough day?”

You wanted to say Spencer.

Instead, you said, “Yeah. Long.”

But Spencer was the undercurrent of it all. The constant ringing tension in your ribs.

You weren’t blind. You’d seen the way his jaw clenched when you answered your phone and smiled at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. You noticed the way he walked away now instead of waiting for you to finish calls. You noticed the way he didn’t laugh anymore — not when you teased him, not when Morgan did. He was quiet. Sharp-edged.

And cold.

Cold in a way you never thought he could be — not with you.

Toby hummed, walking around the island in the kitchen to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Wanna talk about it? I'm no stranger to long days, you know."

You knew you could be honest with Toby. You always could. So you did.

You let out a long breath and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tightly over your chest like it would hold the frustration in. Toby stepped closer, waiting — patient and steady, like always.

“It’s Spencer,” you said finally, the name heavy on your tongue.

Toby raised his brows slightly, but didn’t interrupt.

“He’s been… off. Ever since we got together. It’s like he’s trying to distance himself. I mean, we’ve always been a team, Toby. He’s my partner, my best friend. But now? He won’t even look at me. Won’t talk unless it’s strictly case-related.”

Toby nodded slowly, processing. “You think it’s about me?”

“I don’t want it to be,” you admitted. “But yeah. I think it is.”

You expected a flicker of jealousy, maybe defensiveness. But Toby just tilted his head, giving you a knowing look.

“Sometimes guys don’t realize what they have until they think they’re losing it,” he said, gently. “And it sounds like, for Spencer, you’ve always been… his partner. Maybe in more ways than what you realize.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the kindness in his tone.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he added. “You don’t deserve to be iced out because someone else can’t deal with their feelings.”

You nodded, and for a moment, the silence was thick with unspoken things. Guilt. Confusion. Hurt.

Toby reached for your hand.

“You want me to talk to him?”

Your eyes widened slightly. “No. God, no. That’d make it worse.”

He chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.”

And you appreciated that — how he didn’t press, didn’t push. Just stood beside you, solid as ever.

But even as you sat across from him at dinner and tried to focus on the warmth of his hand over yours and the smell of garlic and basil, your mind wandered.

To Spencer.

To the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t watching. To how he always sat beside you on the plane, even when the seat was cramped. To how his fingers would brush yours when you passed him notes during briefings. How his voice would soften when he said your name.

You chewed slowly, heart too full and too confused.

Because it was good with Toby. Safe. Easy. Healthy.

But Spencer Reid was a different kind of ache. A different kind of want.

And the way he was pulling away was starting to feel like losing a part of yourself.

The next case was local. Joint operation. Which meant — of course — local cops. Which meant Toby.

You hadn’t seen Spencer’s jaw lock that hard since the last time he got shot.

It started subtly. Spencer barely acknowledged Toby’s greeting at the precinct, opting instead for a clipped nod and a murmured “Detective.” No handshake. No eye contact. No warmth.

Toby had noticed.

So had Morgan.

“You wanna tell me what’s got pretty boy wound so tight?” Morgan murmured as you prepped in the conference room.

You only shrugged, feeling the storm brewing before the first thunder cracked.

Things really started to spiral when the team and local PD were combing through suspect profiles — a list of men matching a violent pattern across multiple counties. Spencer sat at one end of the table, you next to him, and Toby leaned over your other side, reading over your shoulder. His hand lightly rested on the back of your chair.

“Your unsub’s MO escalated recently,” Toby said. “Blunt force trauma now, not strangulation. Means he’s getting sloppy, impulsive.”

Spencer scoffed — an uncharacteristic, biting sound.

“Or it means he’s adapting,” he cut in, not looking up. “You’re assuming he’s losing control when there’s nothing to suggest that yet. Impulsivity is a subjective label when you don’t understand the baseline pattern.”

The air in the room shifted.

Toby raised a brow. “Pretty sure I’m allowed to draw from experience here, Doctor.”

“I’m sure you are,” Spencer said coolly, flipping a page in the file. “Though we tend to prefer evidence-based analysis over gut feelings.”

You blinked between them. “Okay, let’s just—”

“Right. Because feelings aren’t useful in profiling?” Toby asked, standing straighter. “That’s rich coming from someone who clearly can’t separate his own from the job.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then Morgan muttered under his breath, “Damn.”

“Toby,” you warned quietly, heart lurching.

But Spencer didn’t back down. His tone dropped a note colder.

“I’m not the one who started dating a federal agent while assisting on a case.”

That hit.

You stood so fast your chair screeched back. “Enough. Both of you.”

Spencer finally looked at you, and it was the worst part — his eyes were hard, yes, but underneath? They looked hurt. Like he hated everything he’d just said but didn’t know how to stop himself.

You excused yourself quickly and walked out into the hallway, needing space to breathe. Toby followed first, hand brushing your arm.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag it out like that. He just — he gets under my skin.”

You turned to him. “He’s always under your skin, Toby. And you’re always in his. And I’m stuck in the middle of it.”

He frowned. “You’re not stuck.”

You hesitated. “Aren’t I?”

Toby stepped closer. “Are you telling me you’d rather be on his side?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. The answer came slower than you expected.

“No, Toby, but—”

The door opened behind you both. Spencer walked past without a word, his shoulder brushing yours like static.

He didn’t look back.

And suddenly, for the first time since meeting Toby Cavanaugh, your heart wasn’t where it used to be.

The rest of the case went slowly. You slowly got closer to leads, but the tension between Spencer and Toby made everything feel ten times heavier.

Every time they were in the same room, it was a minefield. Spencer was clinical, detached — he didn't so much as glance at you unless it was absolutely necessary. Toby, on the other hand, stayed close. Too close. Like he was trying to claim territory Spencer had already been silently living in.

You and Toby laid side by side in a hotel room the night before confronting the unsub. The bed was cold, different than normal. The tension had escalated from just between Spencer and Toby.

Now, it affected Toby and you.

You heard him sigh, shifting slightly. He had turned towards you, his blue eyes analyzing you. You couldn't bare to look at them.

"I know what you're thinking. And I'm not mad at you, Name." He said, a hand coming over to rest comfortingly on your knee.

You didn’t respond right away. You stared at the ceiling, the cheap fan clicking above you like a metronome, keeping time with the awkward silence stretching between you.

“I’m not mad,” Toby repeated, softer this time. “But I know you’re thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted.

You turned your head slowly to meet his eyes — those same gentle, ocean-colored eyes that had once made you feel calm and sure. But now, all they did was make you feel guilty.

“I’m trying not to,” you admitted. Your voice was quiet, honest and shaky. “But it’s like I don’t even know how to not think about him. He’s just... always there.”

Toby gave you a sad smile, thumb brushing gently over your knee. “That’s what makes it harder. He was there first.”

Your throat tightened. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t plan on falling for you either. But I did. And maybe I’m just now realizing that I’ve been fighting a losing battle since day one.”

You sat up then, wrapping your arms around your legs. “Toby…”

“I love you,” he said, steady and sure. “But I’m not going to ask you to choose between us. Because that's not fair.. And I think that your heart chose before your head did.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears, lip wobbling.

"I love you too. So much."

"I know you do. But you love him too."

"I don't know--"

Toby smiled sadly, shushing you.

"You do know, baby. You just aren't ready to admit it."

He kissed your forehead softly, like he was sealing a memory more than showing affection. “You’re going to be okay,” he said gently. “Even if it’s not with me. It's a choice you need to make. I'm here if you want me — and if its not me you want, that's okay too.”

You closed your eyes at his words, tears slipping down your cheeks. The finality in his voice wasn’t cruel — it was kind, too kind, and it made it hurt worse.

Toby didn’t leave. He just laid back down beside you, quiet, respectful of your silence. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, like he was trying to convince you that he was the right decision. He stayed — like someone waiting for the scenes that come on after the credits roll.

The next morning, you didn’t speak much. Toby offered you coffee with a soft “Here,” but nothing more. When you entered the precinct for the takedown briefing, the air between you and Spencer was as taut as a wire. He glanced at you — not coldly this time, but cautiously, like he didn’t trust himself to look too long.

When Garcia patched in the last lead, you split up into the new normal pairs: you with Toby, Spencer with Morgan.

The tension never left. Not during the briefing. Not during the gear-up. Not even when you were sliding into the passenger seat of the SUV beside Toby, your eyes catching Spencer’s just once across the lot.

And then the operation started.

The unsub had gone mobile — a panicked attempt to flee the pressure closing in. Garcia’s last location ping had led your team to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. Cold. Echoing. Smelling of rust and dust and adrenaline.

You and Toby cleared the left wing. Morgan and Spencer swept right. Everyone moved with precision — voices low, steps practiced, hearts pounding just beneath Kevlar and clipped radios.

The unsub came out of nowhere.

One moment you were rounding the corner with your weapon raised, the next you were on the ground, a white-hot pain ripping through your side as the knife wedged between your ribcage and your heart. You choked, panicked, your fingers immediately reaching for where you felt pain. You pulled them back, thick crimson covering them.

Toby was screaming your name. You couldn’t answer.

Your hand pressed instinctively to your side again, feeling the sticky warmth bloom beneath your fingers. You tried to stay upright, to aim, to breathe, but your body folded against the concrete floor.

Everything was muffled after that — shouts, more gunfire, boots pounding, someone yelling “SUSPECT DOWN!”

And then —

“Name!” Spencer’s voice, panicked. Raw.

He was kneeling beside you before you could process it, gloved hands replacing yours on your wound. Blood soaked through them anyway.

“Stay with me,” he said, voice cracking. “Come on, stay with me, look at me.”

Your vision blurred. You blinked slowly, heavy, dazed. “Spence…?”

“I’ve got you. Okay? Just — just don’t close your eyes. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” He kept pressure on your side, his hands trembling as he did it. “Why weren’t you behind cover — god, I should’ve—” He shook his head. “I should've been there.”

Toby dropped to your other side, face pale and stricken. “She’s losing too much—Spencer, we need an ambulance now.”

“I already called it!” Spencer snapped. Not at Toby — not really — just at the situation, at the horror of watching someone you love bleed out in front of you. “She’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, your eyes fluttered.

Spencer leaned closer, forehead nearly touching yours, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare give up. Not now. Stay awake.” He begged, breath hitching. “You can't leave me alone. Not when I haven't—” he cut himself off, tears welling up in his eyes.

Your blood was warm against his hands, soaking through the sleeves of his FBI jacket. Spencer barely noticed. His world had narrowed to you — your paling face, your shallow breaths, your barely-there grip on consciousness.

Toby hovered just as close, voice cracking. “Come on, baby. Just hold on, okay? The ambulance is close. You just gotta hold on a little longer.”

Your lips moved. No sound came at first — then, the faintest whisper: “I’m… I’m trying.”

Spencer broke. A sob escaped him as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “That’s it. Just keep fighting. For me. For us. Please.”

Red and blue lights strobed faintly from outside the warehouse windows. Sirens howled in the distance, drawing closer.

Toby reached out and gripped Spencer’s forearm tightly, grounding them both. “We’ve got her. We’ve got her.”

Spencer nodded shakily, eyes locked to yours, never once looking away. “I’m right here,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when the EMTs burst in moments later, rushing toward you, it took two agents to pull Spencer away. He didn’t stop talking to you the entire time — even as they lifted you onto the stretcher, even as your eyes finally slid shut from the blood loss.

In the waiting room, there was pacing, crying, panicked phone calls. Toby sat in a chair with his head in his hands. Spencer paced back and forth. Garcia and Morgan sat side by side, Garcia's manicured hand held tightly by Derek.

The hospital’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, far too bright for the weight of what hung in the air. Spencer’s footsteps echoed through the near-empty waiting room — back and forth, back and forth, like if he stopped moving, the fear would crush him.

Toby hadn’t moved in nearly fifteen minutes. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. His shoulders trembled every so often, silently, like the grief and helplessness were leaking out in waves too heavy to contain.

Garcia whispered something to Morgan, who just shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. This was a pain even he couldn’t fix.

Finally, Spencer stopped moving.

He stared at Toby, chest heaving with the force of his unshed emotion. “She didn’t have to be out there. She wasn’t supposed to be in that position.”

Toby looked up slowly. His face was blotchy, raw, but his voice was steady when he said, “Don’t you think I know that?”

“She was my partner,” Spencer snapped, not out of cruelty — just exhaustion and pain. “She was my partner before she was yours. I should’ve—” He cut himself off, fists clenching. “I should’ve been there.”

Toby stood, eyes flaring. “And what? You think I didn’t want to switch places with her the second I saw her go down? You think I haven’t been dying inside knowing I couldn’t stop it?”

Spencer stepped closer, voice sharp. “Then why the hell didn’t you keep her behind cover?”

Toby surged forward, their chests nearly brushing. “Because she’s not a goddamn pawn, Spencer! She made the call. And if you knew her like you think you do, you’d know she’d never let someone else go in alone.”

That hit too close. Spencer’s jaw flexed, his breathing uneven. “Don’t talk to me like I don’t know her.”

“Then maybe act like it,” Toby hissed. “This isn’t about who’s hurting more. It’s about her.”

Spencer’s voice broke. “Everything is about her.”

And just like that, the fight drained out of both of them. The fire turned to ash. Toby sank back into the chair, elbows on his knees again, but this time he looked up.

“I love her, man,” he said hoarsely. "She's the easiest woman in the world to love."

Spencer swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. She is.”

The two men sat in the quiet aftermath of their clash — the rawness between them not hatred, but shared devastation. The truth had stripped them both down to nothing but the ache they carried for the same person.

“She used to talk about you,” Spencer added after a moment, eyes distant. “Back when you first joined the team. I’d ask her how it was going, and she’d smile — that kind of smile that’s more in her eyes than her mouth — and say you were ‘solid.’ That’s what she called you. Solid.”

Toby let out a soft, broken laugh. “She said that to me once, too. I thought it meant she didn’t really like me. Turns out, it meant I mattered.”

Spencer nodded slowly. “She’s careful with her words. When she says something like that... it sticks.”

Toby let out a shaky breath, a few tears slipping from his bloodshot blue eyes.

"She loves me, yeah. I know she does. But she really, really loves you, Reid. And all I want is for her to be happy."

Spencer’s throat tightened at the words. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said that about him — or rather, about them. Toby’s words weren’t laced with jealousy, but a raw truth that broke Spencer’s heart more than anything.

Spencer laughed humorlessly, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I might be the smartest man in the world, but with her, all I do is screw up. It's like trying to solve a Riemann Hypothesis without knowing the fundamental theorem of algebra — I keep missing the point, no matter how hard I try."

Toby raised an eyebrow, clearly lost. "A... Riemann Hypothesis?"

Spencer shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "Never mind," he muttered. "It’s just a math thing. The point is, I screwed up. I hate seeing her with you, no offense."

Toby's eyes softened, but his posture remained guarded. "None taken," he said quietly, his voice rough with understanding. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed, looking down at his hands for a moment before meeting Spencer's gaze. "I know who she's going to choose. And if she's happy, I'll gladly walk away knowing that the woman I love is being taken care of. Even if it isn't me taking care of her."

Spencer stared at his feet, going silent for a few moments before speaking.

"That's the most unselfish thing I've ever heard. Somehow it just makes me hate you more, Cavanaugh."

Toby chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. The tension between them remained, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, a recognition that this wasn’t just about rivalry or competition. It was about something bigger than both of them.

"You really know how to throw a compliment, don’t you?" Toby teased, the bitterness in his voice softened by a hint of humor.

"And you know how to make a man feel appreciated. You showed me up at my job, which is what I'm known for, and then stole the girl I love."

Toby’s grin faded into something more genuine, a tinge of sadness behind his eyes. He looked at Spencer for a moment, his fingers tapping absently on his knee.

"Sorry."

Spencer rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"You're not. But it's alright."

The nurse stepped into the quiet room, her crisp white uniform a stark contrast to the tension that still hung in the air between Spencer and Toby. She looked at them both with a professional yet empathetic expression, taking in their somber faces.

"Gentlemen," she said gently, "you can see her now. She's stable, but still unconscious. We're monitoring her closely, but... it's a good sign. One at a time, please."

Toby stands, wiping his hands on his knees.

"Reid.. You can go ahead. When she wakes up, tell her I was here. And tell her I love her. Please. I gotta go."

Spencer noted the look in Toby's eyes. Glazed with tears, with a tint of 'goodbye.' Toby was letting go.

Spencer stood frozen for a moment, taking in the sincerity in Toby's words, the weight of them settling in his chest. He had expected bitterness, resentment — anything but the quiet acceptance that hung in the air now. Toby wasn’t fighting anymore.

The silence between them stretched, thick with the unspoken understanding that neither man was going to win this. The tension had been replaced by something far heavier, a grief that mirrored the one in Spencer’s heart.

Toby’s shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes avoiding Spencer’s gaze. But before Spencer could respond, Toby turned and made his way toward the door, not looking back.

Spencer watched him go, a flicker of guilt catching in his chest, but he pushed it down. Toby’s selflessness had made it all the more complicated. He didn't know what was right, what he could offer you that would make things better. What if he wasn’t enough?

Shaking his head, Spencer exhaled sharply, trying to push the thoughts aside.

Taking a step forward, he walked into the room where you lay, the sterile hospital smell overwhelming as he approached your bedside. The sound of the heart monitor was steady, the beeping a reminder of the fragility of life.

You were still unconscious, pale, and bruised, the faintest of scrapes lining your skin, but at least you were breathing.

Spencer sat beside you, his hand hovering above yours before he finally reached out, gently resting it on top of your cold fingers.

His lips wobbled. A tear fell.

"Still beautiful, somehow."

Spencer's gaze lingered on your face, the familiar features now shadowed by the bruises and cuts, the signs of the struggle you’d endured. The world seemed so fragile in moments like this, everything around him holding its breath as he did. His heart ached with the weight of what had happened, with the fear that he'd lost you before he could ever make things right.

His fingers tightened gently around yours, grounding him in the present. It felt surreal, sitting there next to you, waiting for a sign that you would wake up, that you would open your eyes and return to him.

"I’m sorry," Spencer whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking slightly as the tears continued to fall, betraying the stoic facade he tried so hard to maintain. "I don’t know how I let it get this far... but I’ll fix this. I swear, I’ll fix it."

He plopped down in the chair beside you, leaning over the railing of the bed and hiding his head in his arms. He tried to fight it, he really did. But he wept. Sniffles filled the room, silent cries. His shoulders shook, but he made no sound, as if the tears were the only release he could allow himself.

He almost didn't notice the gentle weight on his head, fingers threading through his tousled hair.

Spencer tensed at the touch, unsure if it was real or if his mind was playing tricks on him in the haze of exhaustion and grief. But then, a soft, familiar voice broke through the fog, like a beacon pulling him back to reality.

"Spence..." Your voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and fragile, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. The warmth of your fingers in his hair was unmistakable. It was you. You were awake.

His head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief, his breath caught in his throat. He looked down at your face, still marked by the violence you’d endured, but the flicker of recognition in your eyes made everything else fade into the background.

"You’re awake," Spencer stammered, his voice thick with emotion, barely able to grasp the reality of it. "I thought... Oh my god." His hand reached for yours again, holding it more firmly this time, like he never wanted to let go.

You blinked up at him, your gaze swimming in confusion, but there was something reassuring in your touch, something grounding.

"Of course I'm awake." you murmured weakly, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "But... you’re really going to have to stop crying, Reid. You’ll ruin that genius face of yours. Make it all snotty."

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, the lump in his chest threatening to choke him as he laughed softly, his smile breaking through the tension for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I’m... I’m just glad you're okay," he choked out, his voice trembling. "I don’t care about my face."

You squeezed his hand lightly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a gesture of comfort. It was almost like you were trying to reassure him, as if the roles had been reversed.

"I'm not going anywhere, Spence," you said softly, your voice steadying as you tried to sit up, but your strength failed you, and you collapsed back against the pillows.

Spencer was immediately at your side, his hand gently urging you to rest. "Take it easy. You’ve been through enough."

You nodded, eyes half-lidded, still recovering from the ordeal. The silence between you two felt different now, more comforting, like the storm had passed, at least for the moment.

"Not very nice to stick knives in people's ribs. Did we get him?" You asked weakly.

Spencer's expression darkened at the mention of the attack, but he quickly pushed it down, not wanting to bring more worry into the room. His thumb lightly stroked the back of your hand, offering comfort as you struggled to sit up.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a little rough. "He's been dealt with. You don't need to worry about him anymore." He paused for a moment, the weight of the situation hitting him again. "You’re safe now."

You let out a soft sigh, relief flooding through you at his words. Despite how weak you felt, you managed to offer him a small, tired smile.

"I missed you. You're done being mean to me?"

Spencer’s chest tightened at your words, his heart ached, and for a moment, it felt like the world around him paused. He had been so caught up in the fear of losing you that he hadn't fully realized how much he missed you, how much he had missed this — being close to you, sharing moments like this without the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

His thumb continued to trace the back of your hand as he leaned in a little closer, his voice gentle yet full of sincerity.

"Never again. Never."

You smiled again.

Spencer remembered what he'd agreed to tell you.

"Toby was here. Until you got out of surgery and the nurse let us see you. He told me to tell you.. he loves you."

Your expression softened at Spencer's words, the mention of Toby a bittersweet reminder of everything that had unfolded. For a moment, you didn’t say anything, just took in a slow, steady breath, trying to process everything.

"I... I never meant for any of this to happen," you murmured, looking down at your hand in Spencer's, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I never wanted to hurt him."

Spencer squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin in a silent gesture of comfort. "You didn’t," he said softly, his voice unwavering. "You never meant for any of it. But what matters now is that you’re here. And Toby... well, as much as I hate his existence, he's completely unselfish. He's okay with whatever you do, as long as you're happy."

"Seems kind of like a brown-noser to me, but what would I know?" He muttered to himself.

A soft, tired laugh escaped your lips, the sound cracking slightly but genuine nonetheless. It was the first real laugh you'd let out in what felt like forever, and it made Spencer’s chest swell with something warm and fragile.

You gave his hand a weak squeeze. "Just because he's not the jealous type doesn't make him a brown-noser," you scold with a wry smile. "He’s a good guy. Just... not my guy."

Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, something unreadable in his gaze. Hope. Fear. Relief. All tangled into one.

"I’m not good at this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I say the wrong things. I push people away. But I never stopped—" he stopped himself, cleared his throat. "I never stopped caring about you. Even when I was too proud or too angry to show it."

Your fingers found his again. "You're doing just fine, Spence."

He exhaled, slowly, like the weight of your forgiveness let him breathe again for the first time.

"You’re really not allowed to almost die again," he said, a small smile returning to his lips. "I don’t handle it well."

"Yeah?" you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "Then I guess I’ll stick around."

He played with your fingers for a moment, gathering the courage to say what he wanted to say. To do what he wanted to do. He was tired of being a coward. Tired of never getting what he wanted because he couldn't speak up unless it was something venomous coming out of his mouth.

Spencer's gaze drifted to your joined hands, watching as his thumb traced absent circles on your skin. His mind was racing, heart pounding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape. You were here. You were alive. And for once, the world had given him a second chance.

He swallowed hard, then leaned in, his voice quiet but firm, like he didn’t want to lose the nerve halfway through.

"I don’t want to pretend anymore," he said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to act like I don’t care, or like it didn’t kill me to see you with someone else. I messed things up — God, I know I did — but if there’s even the smallest chance… that you still feel something for me, I want to try. For real. No more walls. No more pride."

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy but focused on him. He looked wrecked — eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, jaw clenched in restraint — but honest. So achingly honest.

"I love you," he added, the words rushing out before he could second-guess them. "I’ve been in love with you for longer than I want to admit. And if you’ll let me… I want to earn you back."

Your eyes softened impossibly, pupils blown wide.

You didn’t speak right away—how could you, when your heart was pounding louder than the monitor beside you? His words echoed in your chest, tearing down the last defenses you’d held up between you.

You blinked slowly, tears beginning to gather at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer, overwhelming relief of finally hearing the thing you’d needed most.

"Spence…" you breathed, your voice catching, raw. "You never lost me. I just didn’t think you wanted me anymore."

His face crumpled, that fractured look of disbelief giving way to something closer to joy — quiet, tentative, but real. He leaned forward, forehead resting gently against yours, so careful not to hurt you.

"I love you so much. I always have. You've been so close yet so far. And now," you took a shaky breath. "Now I'm ready to admit that it's you."

Spencer closed his eyes, and you felt the faintest shiver pass through him — not from cold, but from the overwhelming emotion that trembled in his chest.

He didn’t speak at first. He couldn’t. The words lodged somewhere in his throat, too swollen by the enormity of what you’d just said. Instead, he let the silence hold the moment, let the press of your foreheads be the vow neither of you had been brave enough to make before.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he whispered. “To hear you say that. After everything.”

You cupped the side of his face with the little strength you had, your fingers brushing the tear that had fallen down his cheek.

“I do,” you said, soft but certain. “Because I mean it.”

Spencer kissed your hand. Once. Then again. Like he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m yours,” he said simply, earnestly. “If you’ll still have me.”

And even though you were bruised and broken, you smiled — wide, real, and with more love than words could carry.

“Always.”

462 notes · View notes

f1fantasys · 10 months ago

Note

uh this is so random idk if you would write this but i have an idea so you are Lando’s roommate. one day you came home early and you heard a girl moaning from his room and immediately feel jealous but you tried to brush it off. then as the voice is getting more intense eventually you lean beside his door and can’t help to start touching yourself. you didn’t realized that you moaned too loud that makes Lando opened the door. he is shocked ofc but then start teasing you until you pushed him away because you respect his girlfriend. and it turns out… he just watching videos so no girlfriend or anything. later he decided to help you and even makes you squirt then ended up fucking you against the wall

Hi anon, i love this! Hope you enjoy.

Caught

Warnings - heavy smut, porn, kissing, p in v sex, oral f! receiving, fingering, swearing, squirting.

You moved to Monaco a few weeks ago, being a Sky presenter, meaning you always had things to film and create with drivers and teams, so naturally, it made sense to live closer to everyones' base.

You had an amazing relationship with all the drivers, and were close to a few of them as well. Of course there had to be one, who'd caught your eyes on the first day of work 3 years ago.

Lando.

You wouldn't particularly say you were as close with him as you were with Charles and Carlos, but whenever you were together there was an undeniable sexual tension. Though you both would always brush it off and act like nothing was wrong.

Things were pretty normal between the pair of you until you'd arrived in Monaco, with your landlord telling you the apartment you were supposed to rent wasn't available anymore.

Long story short, Lando offered you a place to stay for as long as you needed, and you don't know how, or why, but you accepted.

So here you were two weeks later, coming home at an ungodly hour because your meeting at work ran over.

Lando's probably sleeping, you thought to yourself as it was already 12.35am when you checked the time, choosing not to make something to eat in fear of disturbing him at this time of the night.

As you walked quietly to your room, which was next to his, you heard something which froze your body still.

At first you thought your ears were deceiving you. It surely couldn't have been.

But as you willed your body to walk closer to Lando's room, you were done for.

It was moaning. Loud, sexy, goosebumps-raising moaning. There was a girl, and a guy, whom could have only been Lando.

To be honest, you had thought he'd bring random girls home much sooner than today. But still, the thought of him literally fucking a girl on the other side of the wall had your body quivering. In shock and need.

You knew you should retreat to your room, put your headphones on, and block out all of the noise. But once again, your body deceived you, wetness already pooling at your core.

You could hear them both panting through harsh breaths, moaning as if their life depended on it, and swearing as though they didn't care if the neighbors heard them, let alone you.

Somewhere at the back of your heart, it hurt, to think it was Lando with another girl, not you, but in the moment, all you could think about was how his naked body would slide against yours. You imagined his girth to be thick and long, just big enough to fit perfectly, having your walls clench around him as he moved in and out of you. You thought about how it would feel to have his lips on yours, roughly kissing you while slipping his tongue into your mouth, and about how he would pinch your nipples between his fingers before sucking on him, having you a moaning mess underneath him.

Without really realizing what you were doing, you found your hand slide into your joggers and slip past your panties, running your fingers through your folds as you collected you wet and sticky juices.

The noises coming from Lando's room were obscene to say the least. Man must know what he's doing, you thought, as you imagined it was his fingers that were dancing on your folds.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your own moans as you pushed two fingers through your core, shutting your eyes, mind trained on listening to your surroundings.

You could hear from the girls' whimpers that she was close, saying incoherent words through gritted teeth, and when she finally hit her high, Lando must have emptied himself in her by the sounds he was making, moaning into the oblivion.

Lando's moan alone had sent you spiraling, gushing cum all over your fingers as you let out your own soft whimpers and moans, not realizing that you were actually louder than you thought.

And just as your mind caught up with just how loud you were, Lando's room door suddenly flew open, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

He was stood there wearing nothing but his boxers, hair disheveled and cheek flushed.

You quickly removed your hand form your joggers, holding both your arms behind your back as if you were hiding something, as you looked at him not knowing how to get yourself out of this situation. You wanted the ground to swallow you up.

You didn't miss how Lando's eyes darkened when you did that, and with the way your body was still riding down from the high, you held in soft quivers, opening your mouth a few times to say something though nothing came out.

''I-I, um, I-'' you started but Lando cut you off.

''What are you doing?'' he asked, not sounding one but annoyed or confrontational, but rather teasingly.

You gulped, 'nothing'' you lied, knowing your face would give you away with how hot your cheeks felt.

He smirked, let out a small chuckle. ''Enjoyed that, didn't you?'' he teased again.

''I-, fuck, I didn't mean to eavesdrop'' you mumbled shyly.

He didn't say anything back, just nodded his head with a full on boyish grin.

''I'm gonna go, let you get back to your girl'' you softly said, turning to the direction of your room.

''My-, what? My what?'' Lando asked, clear confusion on his face.

You raised your brow. ''I'll let you get back to your girl'' you said, pointing in the direction of his room, quickly hiding your hand again because your fingers were still glistening with your cum.

Finally it clicked in him. Did you really think he had a girl in there? he thought to himself. And fuck, seeing your wet fingers had him growing hard.

He chuckled again, smirking, before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his room, shutting the door behind you and placing his hands on both sides of your face, staring into your soul.

You both stayed silent, searching each others face until soft moans filled your ears again. Your eyes grew with shock when you looked past Lando and saw his laptop on the bed, facing you, with two people fucking each other taking up the screen.

Suddenly it dawned on you. He was watching porn, not fucking anyone.

You took a deep breath again when you looked back at Lando. His gaze stern and determined. And then he did the unimaginable. He took you hand in his and brought your fingers up to his mouth, taking them in and sucking harshly on them, swallowing all your juices.

All you could do was watch with your mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him down there.

''It wasn't me babygirl. But it can be if you want it to'' he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his hands landed on your waist and started roaming your body. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and in no time he leaned down to crash his lips to yours.

It was a feverish kiss. Hard and deep but so natural as if you'd kissed a thousand times before. Your mind went back to a few minutes ago to when you were standing outside his closed door, imagining what his lips felt like, and now you could confirm it was a hundred times better, a hundred times sexier, as he slid his tongue into your mouth and memorized every inch of it.

Your hands ran through his hair multiple times before lowering down to roam his back and taunt core muscles, instantly feeling your self aroused again at how hard his muscles were to the touch. It was something you found extremely sexy.

As Lando's own hands continued to dance around your body, he let one slip through your joggers, landing instantly on your core which had you jumping in his hold.

''Gonna take care of you baby'' he said before leaving wet kisses along your neck as his calloused fingers twirled their way through your slick folds.

You moaned out as he began to nip and bite at your neck, no coherent words forming in your mind. All you knew was how good he felt.

''So wet for me, yeah?'' he asked.

''Uh huh'' you replied, shutting your eyes as he let a finger push through you entrance.

You held your breath as he pumped it in and out with ease because of how wet you were.

''Fucking hell, you're so tight'' he said through gritted teeth, using his other hand to get past your tshirt and massage your boobs.

''Been a while'' you said, though immediately regretted it because he did not need to know that.

Suddenly he pulled back and looked at you. ''No'' he states.

''Yes'' you say back.

''How long?''

Does it matter? you thought to yourself.

''I don't know, like 3 month'' you said, not knowing how he would respond.

''Fuck'' he said, before sending you a wink.

''Gonna destroy you'' he said, mumbling it more to himself.

He quickly pulled your tshirt off of you before ripping your bra off, licking his lips at the sight of your perky boobs, nipples already stiff from the cool air.

He took way too long staring at them, and only when you whined did he snap out of his trance and sink down on on his knees, pulling your joggers down at the same time.

You mentally thanked yourself for shaving this morning as you looked down to see Lando licking his lips, before leaning down and licking a strip up your cunt.

You instinctively tried to close you legs around his head through he held them open with his strong hands, and you could do nothing but let your own hands latch onto his precious hair and pull it at.

He was devouring your pussy. Licking, sucking, soothing, nipping, doing everything possible to make you feel every emotion.

''Fuck Lando'' you hissed as he quickly found your clit, biting at it harshly before pulling back and blowing some cool air on it.

He returned his fingers and slid two in, hitching your breath in the process as he let his mouth back on as well, showing you no mercy with a relentless pace.

All you could do was let out a series of moans and bated breaths as you held onto him for dear life, feeling the warmth build up in your stomach.

''Gonna cum Lan'' you said.

He pulled back for a second, ''let me taste you again'' he said, before returning to his activities.

In no time your body was shuddering above hi, your orgasm letting you reach the best high as you gushed your fluids all over his face and fingers.

Lando groaned to himself when he go the first taste of you. Warm and milky with a salty aftertaste that had him grow extremely hard with the mix of hearing and feeling you.

He finally pulled back for a few seconds, letting your body calm down.

He looked at you with soft eyes. ''So fucking delicious baby'' he murmured.

Before you could even respond he was spreading your legs apart again, as far as he could as he ran his tongue through your fold again. Then he used to fingers to pry your pussy open, leaning forward and thrusting his tongue in and out of your core.

Once again you pulled at his hair, body like jelly though he was strong enough to hold you in position as his tongue did wonders to you.

''Hmm, not gonna last long, fuck, Lando please'' you begged.

Suddenly his tongue was being replaced with his fingers again, three this time, which stretched you out, making you gasp for air.

You could feel your next orgasm building up, and just when Lando curled his fingers to hit your g-spot, your body was in a state of bliss. You didn't even know that your cunt was squirting out juices, drenching Lando's face as he smiled wickedly at the mess he's made of you.

''I-fuck Lando!'' you all but screamed, watching as he started licking at every place you gushed over.

You tried to get out of his hold so you could bolt to you room, so embarrassed that you made such a mess on him. ''Lando, let me -I''m so sorry, fuck'' you mumbled.

But he stopped you in your tracks.

''Don't. That was so fucking amazing, fuck I''m so hard'' he said, quickly standing up again and roughly pulling you into a heated kiss, while still holding your body up. You were sure you'd be on the floor by now if he wasn't.

As his face was pressed your yours you could feel the slickness and stickiness rubbing off on to you as he continued to roughly make out with you, sucking on your tongue, probably drawing blood with how intense it was.

When Lando' hands reached down and massaged your ass, giving you a few gentle slaps, you snaked your own hand down and slipped through his joggers, taking his achingly thick girth and pumping him a few times.

When you felt how big he was, you were internally screaming. How the hell is he gonna fit, you thought.

He must have sensed your hesitation because without realizing, your movements with your hands and mouth were faltering.

''Gonna be ok baby, we'll make it work'' he said, pulling back and giving you reassuring eyes.

You just nodded your head and pulled him flush against you again, working on removing his boxers completely.

Once that was done, Lando took himself in his hands and raan his angry dick through your folds multiple times before groaning and pulling back.

''Shit'' he said.

You gave him a confused look, suddenly feeling exposed because why else would he pull away if this was something he didn't want?

''Don't have a fucking condom'' he sighed.

You let out a breath and chuckled. ''Top right drawer of my dresser'' you said confidently.

Lando was quick to shoot out of his room and not a minute later he was walking back in, pumping himself as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth before sliding it on himself. It was tight, anyone would be able to see that with how bigger than average he was. But for now, it would do the job, hopefully.

You watched on in anticipation, really took you time to gawk him up and down and you couldn't help but feel the blood rushing down to your core. He was so fucking hot, and right now you wanted him to ruin you. Use you as he pleased, because god you were putty in his hands right now.

Once he was done putting the condom on, he looked at you and gave you a cheeky smile, as if he was proud of his efforts.

That lasted all but a few seconds because the smile was quickly replaced by a dark lust in his eyes.

As eager as you were to finally have him in ways you'd only dreamed about until now, there was still a part of you that was nervous as hell because, one, he was thick, very thick, and two, this would change everything, and you only hoped it would be for the better.

Lando cupped your face again and gave your forehead a quick peck, as if he could see the wheels turning in your mind.

''Baby'' he whispered, as he lined his dick up at your entrance.

You nodded, and he let himself slide in, all the way in with a single thrust.

You held your breath and shut your eyes, nails digging into his biceps as Lando left little pecks all over your shoulders.

The stretch was blood sore, but as he pulled out and thrust back in again, the pleasure started to take over the pain.

He was going slow, allowing your body to get used to the intrusion as he hiked one of your legs up to his hip and held it in place.

He continued at a slow pace for a few more thrusts before you told him it was okay to go faster.

Now, Lando was relentless, fucking into you continuously as all you did was bite you lower lip as hard as you good, whimpers and broken breaths leaving your mouth.

Lando himself was letting out moans, praising you through gritted teeth.

''Fuck y/n, so fucking tight but taking me so well. Shit. Never felt this good before. Fuck me you're incredible''

You won't lie. Hearing his praise you like that was turning you on even more, though it seemed impossible at this point. But just listening to his hoarse voice had your body trembling in his arms.

''Lando, gonna cum. Fuck'' you breathed out, moans getting louder by the second as he was burying himself deep inside of you.

''Do it'' he mumbled as he caught your left nipple between his teeth and bit down harshly at it.

''Fuck too much'' you squealed. You could feel him smile against you as he soothed his tongue over and blew on it to relieve it.

Lando snaked his hand down to your clit, he had barely touched it and you felt your orgasm over come you, your body shaking violently in his arms as you gushed warm sticky juice all over his cock, having him groaning at ''how fucking sexy'' you are.

He gave you no time to come down from you high, immediately pulling out and turning your body around so your back was to him.

You just about fumbled as you quickly reached your hand down and pulled the condom off, desperate to feel him. His eyes grew wide but all you did was send him a wink as you heard him mutter a few swear words to himself.

You grabbed his dick again and positioned it against you again, before Lando rammed himself into you, the new position having him go even deeper than he was before, making it feel a thousand times better without the condom.

''Fuck me, Lando, fuck'' you moaned, probably the most pornographic noises you'd ever made before.

''I am fucking you baby. And you're taking me so well. Never felt so fucking good before'' he said, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

The pace was raw, unfiltered, as if you were both starved of each other. Lando's hands were surely leaving purple marks on your hips how hard he was pressing down on you, and his cock was surely bruising your insides as he relentlessly thrust in and out of you until you were a moaning mess again, body shuddering in the wake of another orgasm ripping through you.

''Fuck, i'm gonna cum. Where?'' he impatiently asked.

''In me, fuck, please'' you begged.

Within seconds Lando emptied his milky load into you, ropes of it already leaking out and down your thigh as he slowly decreased his pace to ride you both through, both your bodies shaking and overstimulated, high of adrenaline.

Lando leaned forward onto you, squeezing you between his body and the door as your mind tried to catch up to what just happened.

His head was in your neck, and you could feel his curls sticky with sweat as his cool breath left goosebumps on your skin due to the chill of your own sweat.

Neither of you said anything for a while, just basking in each others bodies as you tried to catch your breath.

You could feel Lando softening inside of you as he started leaving wet kisses along your shoulders and back.

His hand found yours, and you both hissed as he slowly pulled out, turning your body back to face him.

He gave you a sheepish smile, cheeks flushed as you bit down on your bottom lip, not knowing what was gonna come next.

Lando tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned forward to kiss you gently.

''You're so fucking amazing y/n, and I've waited way too fucking long to do this''

''We...waited too long to that'' you said, emphasizing on the ''we''

Suddenly you saw Lando getting to his knees again, and as much as you couldn't wait fro more from him, you were fucking sore.

''Lan, too much'' you whispered, latching onto his hair.

''I know'' he said softly as he let his tongue run through your folds, collecting the mixture of cum before he got back up and pryed your mouth open.

You held your breath as he let the cum drip from his mouth down to yours before giving you a feverish, toe curling kiss, the both of you moaning at the taste of each other.

A few minutes later, and Lando, being the gentleman he is, cleaned you up and pulled you into his bed, your body curling at his side.

''So...goes without saying, but be my girlfriend? I mean, you're already living with me..and I've already made you squirt'' he smirked

You felt your cheeks flush, ''Ug Lando!'' you couldn't help but try to hide your face until he pulled your body to lay on top of his.

''And it was the hottest thing I've ever seen'' he said, smiling genuinely.

''Yes'' you said softly.

''Yeah?'' he asked, eyes growing wide and full of excitement.

''Yeah'' you said, leaning down to kiss him for the hundredth time today, feeling his hands on your ass giving you a few playful smacks.

Hope y’all enjoyed this! Please do leave comments and remember requests are always open xx

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 smut #lando norris #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut

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cherie-doll · 7 months ago

Note

I have this brainrot for a while now

Which cod man would be the most husband material, who waits for the shortest amount of time before getting married? And who would be the one who would be fine with not getting married at all? And where are the rest of them?

How many kids would they want if they want?

I don’t need sleep, i need answers!😭

sorry for the delay my wifi is so slow, we just got a new batch of snow down here and tbh it might be affecting my internet

✧ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᰍᩚ Price... he's PERFECT husband material. Cut from the finest cloth I'm SO normal about him. You've just observed his behavior closely and he doesn't do annoying things like leaving his clothes lying around on the floor or leaving unwashed dishes in the sink. He def want to get married, but doesn't wait too long nor asks you right away, he'd time it just right. As for kids? Maybe he could convince you to have one or two...

ᰍᩚ Ghost... he doesn't realize he can lowkey be a good husband. He thinks he's not willing to adapt to anyone, given how much stuff he's been through. A relationship isn't the worst thing he's had to go through, he's gone through worse, so why is he thinking about it so much? He doesn't want to enter a relationship with only half a heart, not mindlessly. But he knows his feelings towards you don't come from nothing. His feelings would have to be resolved before you even started dating, so that afterwards everything progresses pretty smoothly. And after marriage, kids? Maybe idk.

ᰍᩚ Soap... he probably had your entire life planned out before he confessed. He knew he loved you, was convinced he wanted to marry you and needed to have kids. So, he waited the least amount of time to marry you. There's lots of things he could improve on as a partner but the good thing is he's willing to make any and all of those changes for you. His respect will never run dry, he won't let desperation take ahold of him, always letting you know one way or another he still cares. It was up to you to decide how many kids you'd be okay with but if it were up to him... yk what better not go there.

ᰍᩚ Gaz... Perfect boyfriend AND husband material. He loves showing affection with the little things, a cup of coffee or tea and cuddling when you feel down or taking care of chores when you need a break. Simple things that he does on the daily that in the long run fortify your relationship. The amount of time he waits before asking you to marry him depends and it's all on how you want your relationship to progress. He's surefooted in his decisions so after the initial stages of the relationship when he's gotten to know you very well, your faults and what he loves about you, he just lets you know that if you want to take that step, he's more than ready to do so. He def wants kids, at least three.

ᰍᩚ Roach... oh my sweet boy ToT. He's such boyfriend material and in time will no doubt grow into a loving husband. He very deeply cares about your connection and how deep it runs between you both. The topic of marriage comes up at a very proper time in your relationship, it's when all he can think of is holding your hand every day, how comforting your presence is to him and how this couldn't ever revert into something casual. Marriage is a definite yes for him. Kids are something he wouldn't think of right away. Maybe a few years down the lane, and maybe one.

ᰍᩚ Alejandro... you made him wish impossible things. How you've made him feel, the sensations not only running smoothly over his skin but finding a way to penetrate deeply, to make him desire nothing else but a life with you. Marriage was the ideal way to continue living in that daydream. How he wishes the days were endless, so he can rejoice for eternity with you. If this was what made him wish to be better, then he was surely husband material. In time, he'd want to start a family with you, to create life, to have little ones to take care of. Three or four kids would occupy his days.

ᰍᩚ Rudy... is THE blueprint for all husbands out there to follow. He's very patient, his voice soothes you, could lull you to sleep. Always listens to you even if you rant, if you point out a flaw of his he works to be better. Never pushed you into doing anything, even when he could already hear the wedding bells ringing, he wanted you to make this decision on your own. In the back of his mind, he most likely already had baby names planned and asked if you wanted kids. He def did and wanted three. He thought it was the perfect number.

ᰍᩚ Phillip Graves... husband material at its FINEST. He's not only charming and a gentleman as a boyfriend but also as a husband. He just couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger so he did want marriage very soon. There is no way he'd NOT want children, he's just as much father material as he is husband material. I've said it before but he was made to father children and I will die on that hill. He loves going everywhere with his son, showing him how to run a company and then he gentles when his daughter is born, doing everything she wants.

ᰍᩚ Makarov... husband material at the core. Deep on the inside he can be genuine and want to care for someone. He likes having someone to depend on him, under his care, leaning on him for that strange affection that isn't found anywhere else. It would be hard to refuse him with the amount of gifts he sends to sweeten you up and coax you to accept his proposal that came too soon for your liking. But look at it this way, he'll always provide everything you'll ever need and want and in exchange you only have to agree to marry him, live with him and... kids. Yes, he wants kids. A numerous family preferably.

ᰍᩚ Keegan... is quite levelheaded when it comes to relationships so he's fine with staying your boyfriend and living with you or becoming your husband when you marry. He could improve on becoming peak husband material but you're lucky if he picks up his clothes from the floor and places it in the laundry basket instead. He thinks having no kids is better until you get a scare thinking you might be with child and he gets excited until you call false alarm. He felt disappointment and then realized he did want kids after all. Would be fine with just one but wouldn't completely be against having another one later on.

ᰍᩚ König... it's not him you have to worry about when it comes to marriage. He's got to watch out for himself because YOU'RE going to wife him up, otherwise he'd never get around to asking you to marry him. Not that he wouldn't want to but he's thinking when would be the perfect moment to ask and he's always thinking, "I'm going to ask them next date", and another date comes and goes by and then another and another... He'd learn to be so loving with kids you just gotta convince him he CAN be a good father. I don't know how many he could handle though.

ᰍᩚ Horangi... he's fun but he's prob best as a boyfriend. Not that he could never be a husband because he can, but he'd be completely fine with not marrying. If you're expecting him to bring up the question and get down on his knee for you... then you're probably setting yourself up for disappointment. It'd take him a while and you'd have to hint at wanting marriage, because otherwise he wouldn't mind just moving in together. I know I used to say he'd want marriage quickly but idk man my perception of him changed. He might get baby fever (rare) and he might ask for ONE kid them, but don't think he's the type for them much.

ᰍᩚ Nikto... if he does open up to wanting a relationship you've got to work with him on the long run. He might be closed off to certain things simply because he might not see a point in progressing in that field, but once he sees that you respect him and don't force anything, he'd def want to marry you. I'm not exactly sure how long he'd wait before proposing to you, honestly it all depends but once he grows attached to a person he wouldn't want to be apart from them so I'm guessing he'd tie the knot pretty soon. The topic of kids is something he's very hesitant of, he rarely gets baby fever, like ever. It'd have to be a lot of convincing on your part. But he might be okay with one or two at most.

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40kmps · 17 days ago

Text

CARNAL

werewolf husband x reader | 18+| 3k

your husband is a painter who makes a meager, but comfortable living for you both creating portraits for nobles. his love of painting stems from his adoration of the night sky and the moon. he disappears one night and returns three days later—changed, distant, aggressive, and ravenous. not long after, you discover the reason for his behaviors and face the consequences of curiosity.

warnings; dead dove, dubcon, explicit sexual content, yandere content, knotting, breeding kink, grotesque + horrific imagery, detail + prose heavy.

proofread by @hantaslittlearsonist . ty, my lovely friend for your time and skills🙏🏻.

this is a repost from my deleted blog.

to see more of my work, both old and new, please interact and reblog this post!!

He was the wretched thing you kept behind locked doors with the rising of each full moon.

Once, the pale moonlight had been a thing of beauty to you both. To you it was an exquisite, lustrous pearl which seemed so small pinched between your fingers, squeezed and blurred through narrowed eyes. He, on the other hand, admired it in a different manner, staring adoringly at its craggy features and the wan, white halo it emitted.

By trade, he was a painter and made a meager living for you both from it. His portraits were most popular as nobles found his style palatable, brushwork concealing all flaws that showed in their faded clothes, tarnished jewelry, ravaged flesh and inbred faces. He knew what they'd wanted in a painting and created these fabrications as they wished because it meant more than old bread and leathery meats for dinner.

For you, he endured such mundanity if it meant you could eat well and dress warmly and in an enviable way to the neighbors. He enjoyed your simple delight; how little it truly took to keep you happy, how easy your marriage had been up until that point. You loved him and you loved the things he provided for you.

When it came night-time, far into the blackest hours where the world seemed seized in so forceful a hush, you made no objections when he pulled you from bed to go outside with him to view the sky. There, he painted by the orange embers of lantern light and tried to capture the likeness of the night sky with its misty moonlight and glittering, starry veil.

Sometimes you held the lantern for him, sometimes you did nothing but sit by his side holding the paint palette and lean into his hip, leaching away warmth from his body. Most nights, you were a handsome fixture and most beloved companion, trying to squash the moon like a grape with your fingers while speaking every thought out loud.

But, one night he went out alone and did not return for three days. He had left with his easel and stretched canvas and precious paint board, yet had come back to stand in the doorway with neither.

“Darling,” you hesitated, starting out firm in case he was inebriated or altered aggressively in some way. You looked at him as though he were some strange person. “Where are your things? Your paints? Your canvas? My love, where have you been?”

“I—I don't have much of an answer to that. I'm sorry.” Then, he strode past you to the bedroom, shuttered the windows to muffle light and sound, declaring he needed rest. “Please, let me be. I'll look for my things another time.”

Later, he was ravenous at the dinner table and ate more than you thought it’d ever be possible for one man to do. You sacrificed your own portion in hopes he'd be sated, but he only turned irritable and mute, as if he were aware nothing good would come of his words to you. At the time, you'd feared that you had upset him in some way, that he perhaps no longer thought you lovely and fashionable or dependable as his partner and wanted to do away with your marriage.

That would mean you could only return home to rural hardship, or to the slums in the neighboring kingdom. The world would know your unwanted status, how much of a disappointment you'd been to satisfy your own husband, and you would never know another moment of quiet luxury again.

You couldn't accept such a fate, so you bathed him carefully that night. Purposeful with how you dragged the soapy sponge down along his back, fingernails a featherlight graze between the valleys of muscle and flesh protecting his spine. You kissed the back of his shoulders, lips a smouldering touch against his neck.

Then, you felt from stomach down to his hips, swirling your fingertips against the bony protrusions and in the fragrant water before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him to hardness. He still said nothing as he kissed your lips, tongue relentlessly pursuing your teeth to get inside your mouth, and pulled you into the tub with him fully clothed.

He fucked you deep and hard and bent over the edge of the tub that night, hips pistoning up against your ass, skin slapping raw, thrusting into your wet walls at an angle that had you writhing with a face warped in equal parts exquisite bliss and agony. It wasn't until one of his hands gripped you around the neck, levering you against him, that you noticed a wound on his forearm right below where purple and green veins pulsed under his skin, translucent.

They were tooth marks—two rows of them. Crooked and sharp, arranged in a way that reminded you of jagged spears wet by sea spray at the base of a cliff. They looked deep, like whatever had bit him held on, yet hadn’t had the intention to tear his arm off of the rest of him. The punctures were purple-red and abyssal as you studied them, vision jarred by his cock ramming you, his panting in the crook of your neck. The bruise surrounding it bloomed a concentration of colors resembling spilled ink.

How had you not noticed it before?

“I fear what may come on certain nights from now on. When I ask it, lock the bedroom and shutter the windows from the outside. Do not ask me questions for I have no answers to give you.” He did not offer you the reassurance you had wanted, but it was enough to help you confidently stride through the days, knowing that your marriage wasn't in crisis.

Afterwards, it became imperative for you to act as someone educated because you needed to understand what was happening to your husband those nights.

It started days before a full moon: he became impatient, easy to displease, indignant upon any perceived blunder you made. He did not gorge on wine, but whatever meats were preserved in storage and what you could afford now with his inconsistent employment. You tried hiding these poor portions in thick stews with vegetables that had been infused in simmering beef stock for hours, but he was never fully sated by it.

At the same time he started to demand distance from you, he ravaged you at strange hours in your shared bed, tearing at your clothes to suck on your nipples, to lap the glisten between your legs. New was his biting to leave marks and sup the blood mixed with his own saliva. More than once, he would come on your body in hot, thick ropes and squirt piss on you like an animal marking its territory.

When the night of the full moon arrived, he was transformed and horrifying. You had heard furniture crashing and shattering in the bedroom where he'd barricaded himself. Even his yowls throughout the evening had changed, no longer sounding like agony in the cries of the man you'd married, but something far more bestial. It came from within the chest, in the lungs behind the ribs, and was wholly not human.

You had made the mistake only once to check in on him during this point in his shift, as you hadn't known any better. Your voice was a panicked flutter, a whisper of fear that something else might have broken through the fortress of wooden boards nailed against the windows from either side of it.

“My love? Darling, are you alright?”

He was there. You thought he was there because of the silhouette clambering across the broken remains of your shared dresser and vanity. The difference was that this thing was enormous. A creature with a bristling back, hair or spines standing out like a porcupine threatening with its quills.

It stood and was forced to hunch from the low ceiling of your house. A canine-like countenance glowered at you, red eyes partially obscured by patchy fur. Raw skin shined in the barren spots in the lantern light you'd forced into the room. That hair didn't fully cover his abdomen nor his groin.

He was as much still human as he was this ugly beast. You'd thought to take another step into the room when he snarled and lunged towards the door. A shrill shriek pulled from your throat as you fully withdrew from the room, bolting the door shut with an iron key. He never made a ruckus against the door, and you left for the neighbor's immediately after, claiming that your husband had wanted space after an argument.

The next morning, your husband had somehow managed to escape the bedroom and sat in the kitchen clothed from the waist down, disoriented by the sunlight and his placement at the table. He didn't remember his transformation into the beast, but he did remember you.

Perhaps that's what gave you the courage to try to enter the bedroom the night of yet another shift. His yells of anger and pain had cooled after several hours, quieting to beastal groans and his heavy footfalls endlessly pacing the floorboards inside.

The door squealed, a call out to the darkness and creature within, and that creature responded with a growl—low, reverberating in darkness, a warning that you wouldn't be tolerated. You invaded the space carefully, meat and fish and other morsels for offering in a basket you'd woven yourself, that he had told you he thought was particularly artful at completion.

“Darling, I've brought you something. It's food. I've put fresh milk inside, too.” You caught sight of him near the boarded window, massive back rounded as he crouched low into a posture which looked as unnatural as when he tried to stand on his bent legs. “I know it— I know it won't ease your suffering, but you must still eat.”

He approached you, but it was unlike times before where he'd jump at the door to scare you away. This time he crawled towards you instead of intimidating you with his height— he wanted you to stay, and tried to appear small by dragging his long tail across the floor. The fur sounded like the coarse bristles on a broomstick.

“Oh, my love. My love. My love. What has happened to you?” You moved away from the coverage of the door into the dark space, using your body to close it behind you so that he couldn't get out. You couldn't be sure how he'd behave if he left the house. “I'm here. Oh, you're so sweet. Look at you.”

You'd placed the basket aside neatly, making your movements obvious so as not to inspire ire, and didn't react when his long snout pressed into your abdomen. Stubble and whiskers pulled back to reveal long, stalagmite teeth which chewed mindlessly at your clothes. His damp nose nudged under your layers, pressing flush to your skin, startling you with a nasally gasp.

It was the instance where his nose left your stomach and went lower, pushing between your legs to lick you through your pants that you tried to cower, sidle out of his reach. He must've retained some semblance of himself because his arms rose to flank you at the waist, claws digging to the grain of the door, his strong snout pinning you, tongue knowing your shape even through cloth.

The fabric between your legs was wet, sticking flush to you, giving him as much nearness he could achieve without stripping off the layers separating him from your taste. The luscious imprint of you was unfulfilling, not even a teasing drop of what he instinctively knew he could have.

Your pants were removed unkindly; ripped at the waist, torn through impeccable artistry and threads and delicate fabric he had once paid for. Neither complete fear nor anger kept you silent, motionless for him to do as he pleased by yanking the pants off of your legs, but swelling curiosity. You wondered how much of your husband still remained inside this beast when the full moon was high.

The same unkindness followed him shredding through your underwear with his strange teeth, gnawing the fabric to a thin, sopping string before he could finally have you. Inhale you. Taste you with the paddle flatness of his tongue and make you squirm when his teeth skimmed you.

“O-oh—” this wasn't like when he did it with his human tongue, as masterful as it was. He licked you with fervor you'd never felt, like he was reaching for something deep inside your viscera, blood and gore. Every subtle change of his immense nose and tongue was white heat behind your eyes, jostling pulses of electric, immodest moans, your hips driving forward on their own accord to help him find the treasure he sought within you.

Then, he stopped and hauled you to the floor with a single arm twice the thickness of that of his human counterpart. He knew no gentleness even now, dropping you onto your knees and palms against splintery floorboards which vented cool air up through the gaps, into your skin from the draft rising from underneath the house.

That cold reached deeper, seemed to lift off the ground to meet you as your husband—the beast—thrust your chest against the stiff boards and spread your legs apart with his mass. His claws sank into your hips without piercing your flesh, though their sharpness was undiminished to you regardless.

You knew agitation would not serve you here, neither would bursts of courage to escape. He would catch you with those talons, eat your insides with them and fuck you all the same.

He mounted you clumsily, then.

Enormous, coarse-haired hips grinding against your bare ass, prickling you, making you wince from where your face was nearly pressed into the wood below. You shivered at the first pass of his cock between your legs. Stiff and girthy, arched so well that you felt the moist tip drag across you, catching on spots he'd licked to flinching sensitivity, eagerly prodding at you.

The beast made a sound; a suffering groan with the tremble of his hips before he was thrusting inside of you. The sheer viciousness of his hips hammering against the globes of your ass and his heaviness forced you flat to the floor, where you reached out from the sides of your body for something to hold and grip for comfort. It was barren everywhere you touched.

Your walls were still tight around his cock even as the moments passed, growing no closer to accommodating his size than before, strokes animalistic and messy. While his fur muffled the friction of your skin, the airless dark of your bedroom was compacted with lewd squelching and moans you'd never known you were capable of making. Your noises were high-pitched and vile, paced with his hips, the curve of his cock stroking your velvety insides, and the wet suction releasing when he'd partially withdraw.

Above you, he panted with his long tongue lolling, dripping strings of saliva onto your back where they cooled upon contact and made you feel filthy. Your body ached from his weight pinning you to the inflexible floorboards, cold numbing your skin, hardening your nipples, grinding them down with each of his thrusts.

The enclosed space held an unusual smell, one apart from what you knew was sex. How sweat and salt and cum clung to the mustiness of old places. This was more pungent; earthier and heavier as it filled the room and leaked out of your hole, oozing down your thighs like nectar from a weeping peach.

You continued to let the beast—your husband—fuck you into the wood, the grain, to make you an impression in the floor as nothing else could be done. But you were sore now and sure to be swollen, as you were an uncomfortable fit for him again; virgin tightness which gripped every vein and ridge in his cock.

The grinning beast bared even more of his teeth, clicking them together as he released a shuddering sound, too distant to be human but not entirely monstrous. He rutted into you carnally, pushing your legs as far apart as they could go from where you were on your stomach, and went deeper inside of you still.

Something about the depth was so wrong—not meant to be, not meant to be experienced by a creature so simple as yourself. It was divine pleasure and pain, it was a threshold that shouldn't have been crossed, yet he had persevered and fucked you into screams.

His hips stuttered violently and he growled; he snarled; he whimpered like an actual beast mortally wounded. You gasped in awe at an enormity of sensations: his cum gushing inside of you, spurting out in thick ribbons to join the rest that had dried on your thighs, and his knot stretching your walls, locking his hips against your ass.

You fidgeted from the bulbous growth, clenching around it, whining wanly while he insistently humped you to burrow the knot as far as it could go. He was trying to breed you; plug his spend inside of you just as he would have had another creature of his sort. Because you were his spouse, perhaps he was only able to perceive you as his mate.

His movements soon slowed, calmed in the way of someone who'd been taken by blows of exhaustion and draped his large body across your back, prodding you with his spinose fur. There was some tenderness in how he kept his arms outside of you, bracing his weight onto them so as to not smother you. He did it to adjust his knot and half-hard cock inside you as well, unforgiving to the idea that you might have forgotten his fullness, that you were brimmed with his cum and felt bloated from it.

Nothing would come from this, only the shame of knowing you'd moaned and screamed for this beast, but not the human you'd married.

#werewolf x you #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x human #monster romance #monster story #reader insert #oc x reader #oc x you #oc x y/n #original character x reader #original writing #writing #monsterfucking nsft #monster fucker

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zaynesmissus · 5 months ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒

tags : ❄️ fluff. reader is on her period and has cramps. est. relationship. 694 words. a/n : i am yearning for zayne sb esp bc im on my period ☹️ just a short one bc i miss my hubby. hope u guys like this!

"You've been sitting on the sofa for a while now. Are you okay?" Zayne calls out as he walks towards you from the table where papers were scattered. He was reading them while responding to emails on his laptop. It's been like this since yesterday since he suddenly decided to work from home, said it was for a change of pace and to rest since he's had a lot of surgeries lately, but here he was, taking care of you on your period.

"Could you rub my stomach for me?" You winced as even little movements makes the cramps more painful. Finding a comfortable position was easier said than done.

He offers an assuring smile before slowly sitting down beside you. Lifting his hand, he places it on your lower abdomen and starts moving his hand in a circular motion. "Does this pressure feel okay?"

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean back to give him more access. "Thank you, doc." To which he quietly chuckles at the nickname.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to give your service a 5-star rating."

The comment makes him smile fondly as he nodded his head. "Much appreciated, Miss. However," his hand stops its movement as he gazes at you intently, moving closer as his other hand goes up to tuck stray strands of your hair before his face cupped your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin as he whispered, words sprinkled with the sweetest of honey and the warmth of the afternoon sun, "My services are reserved for only one person."

His words were followed by a kiss that felt like clouds hugging you. It wasn't like a rush of adrenaline, but more like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on a cold morning, makes you want to stay and never leave. His lips lingered, and to be honest, you wished it stayed longer, like snoozing your alarm for 5 more minutes; you both could never get enough.

But he knew. The time apart wasn't long though because he came back quicker than he left. And once you were both satisfied, you thought it was done. He had other plans.

He was determined to warm you up with his lips which moved to your chin, then your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose, and finally your forehead.

"I'm not complaining, but what's this for?"

"I know I was focused on work for quite a while. Consider it as my compensation." Smiling, he fixed your blanket and continued rubbing your abdomen.

This made you grin. "Any kind of compensation from you is always welcome. But, you didn't have to. You are working from home after all. Besides, you're already doing a lot for me." Looking down, you slightly pout.

He sighs with a small smile. "How many times must I remind you it's okay to depend on me? In fact, I encourage you to." Gently holding your chin, he makes you look up at him.

Seeing your eyes, he could see a mix of emotions, but what stood out was shame.

It's as if he was scared that a shift in the air could cause a spark and create an explosion, he whispered ever so gently as he held your gaze with so much gentleness and love that you almost cried from how safe it felt to be with him. "I want to do this. I'm happy to do this, so please let me take care of you. What kind of doctor would I be if I can't even take care of.. the most important person in my life?"

It's probably your hormones going haywire, but something deep down tells you that's not the case of why you shed a tear of two from his words, heart bursting with gratefulness, love, and affection for this man. Your man.

Laughing while you cry, you just nod frantically, but Zayne wasn't that convinced yet. "Or am I going to have to use my power and authority, and give you a 'Doctor's order'?"

Now shaking your head, you chuckle while sniffling. "No need, doctor. I tend to disobey those, and this order is something I very much want."

#love and deepspace #zayne #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #zayne lads #zayne li #lads #l&ds zayne #lnds zayne #lads fluff #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace fic

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theempressofthenile · 1 year ago

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Astro Notes : Short N' Sweet - Saturn's Theme

Saturn in the 1st - Emotional creatures, you just don't know it. Definitely isn't visible to the eye, they wear it well. They can handle themselves better than most. This is not only a compliment, but it also shows how they can be emotional stable even if they don't feel that way. Saturn here makes you grounded in the physical reality more. So you tend to get back on your feet quicker than most.

Saturn in the 2nd - Financial struggles at an earlier age has prompted them to force themselves into roles where getting to the bag is the higher goal. I mean, its a must. You gotta have it all, and they know how to get it. They're pretty practical here, and most can handle their advice when it comes to material needs and finances. They won't go crazy on the spending, but they'll at least make sure their needs are met.

Saturn in the 3rd - Prompt speakers. Intelligent leaders. Shapeshifters with their words. Charismatic thinkers that can charm you with their smile. Their needs are met when they have someone important to them that listens. When they're screaming inside, someone who just knows them well and can feel it without them saying anything is what they want. They are emotional readers, can sense danger ahead or when a problem is going to start.. Very majestic flow and auras. Problem solvers!

Saturn in the 4th - Soft spoken individuals who crave attention that isn't just when they're committing to labor. Not your mommy and daddy, so don't bring all your issues to them. Can be sweet and loving to people who are kind to them. They could turn this off quickly depending on who you are. Super swift, and can create a foundation like no other. After seeing what they were living with they know what is right for them and are committed to receiving it.

Saturn in the 5th - Teachers of the art. Self mastery at they're passions and hobbies comes at a price, but a great one at that. Can be an intellectual or an artistic. No matter what, its always a great time with them. Magical authors. Creative thinkers. Special characters they are. Life is art, & so they make it sweet.

Saturn in the 6th - Figures of authority. People who can manage a room. Natural leaders. People tend to make you the lead even if you don't like it. Can have a tendency to do more than what they need but this comes from a place of always over extending themselves to people. There is a time and place for all of it, this group has to allow themselves to be on the receiving end. Balance is key!

Saturn in the 7th - Captain save a ho's. Lol. Jokes. ;) But seriously, you see a damsel in the distress and you might try and change em. You can also be a great lover, that isn't up to debate. Very old school & traditional. Can be the life of the party. Needs somebody who keeps the momentum going. Can be alienated by authorative figures a lot, its because you're one of them, you just don't see it yet.

Saturn in the 8th - At a young age they knew they we're meant for something. Something that would shake the world. Secrets of the unknown tend to carry them to a long journey. A journey that leads them to their final destination. The path less spoken for, but the bravest tend to move mountains here. <3

Saturn in the 9th - Excellent learners. Yearn for something deeper. Could move into religion or stick to something that speaks to them and helps them grow in this lifetime. They are committed to whatever fits their beliefs, and they sit with them and mature into them gracefully.

Saturn in the 10th - The masters of what they came to achieve. They believed they could be more and so it was. A dream to be a prominent somebody, its a gift & a curse is it not? Spellbounding auras, and a respectable presence nonetheless.

Saturn in the 11th - Could only have 1 or 2 friends that mean the world to them. They're big on achieving goals not having a bunch of friends. Can be very standoffish but theres some history behind it. When they want to be, they can be very sweet and nurturing. Can bring acts of service to a group of people if its time to.

Saturn in the 12th - Creative thinkers. Beyond this realm. Have difficulties with aligning with sources that don't match their integrity. Can bring people to their knees with just their mind power. The truth is, they must choose wisely with what they ask for because saturn here blesses them with it. Be careful what you wish for ;) Its a commitment that changes things.

#astrology thoughts #thoughts #astrology theories #astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #spirituality #tropical astrology #astro knowledge #saturn #saturn in the houses

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ldknightshade · 1 year ago

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morality: a character creation guide

creating and understanding your oc’s personal moral code! no, i cannot tell you whether they’re gonna come out good or bad or grey; that part is up to you.

anyway, let’s rock.

i. politics

politics are a good way to indicate things your character values, especially when it comes to large-scale concepts such as government, community, and humanity as a whole.

say what you will about either image; i’d argue for the unintiated, the right image is a good introduction to some lesser discussed ideologies… some of which your oc may or may not fall under.

either way, taking a good look at your character’s values on the economic + social side of things is a good place to start, as politics are something that, well… we all have ‘em, you can’t avoid ‘em.

clearly, this will have to be adjusted for settings that utilize other schools of thought (such as fantasy + historical fiction and the divine right of kings), but again, economic/social scale plotting will be a good start for most.

ii. religion + philosophy

is your oc religious? do they believe in a form of higher power? do they follow some sort of philosophy?

are they devout? yes, this applies to non-religious theist and atheist characters as well; in the former’s case… is their belief in a higher power something that guides many of their actions or is their belief in a higher power something that only informs a few of their actions? for the atheists; do they militant anti-theists who believe atheism is the only way and that religion is harmful? or do they not care about religion, so long as it’s thrust upon them?

for the religious: what is your oc’s relationship with the higher power in question? are they very progressive by their religion’s standards or more orthodox? how well informed of their own religion are they?

does your oc follow a particular school of philosophical thought? how does that interact with their religious identification?

iii. values

by taking their political stance and their religious + philosophical stance, you have a fairly good grasp on the things your character values.

is there anything they value - due to backstory, or what they do, or what they love - that isn’t explained by political stance and religious and/or philosophical identification? some big players here will likely be your oc’s culture and past.

of everything you’ve determined they value, what do they value the most?

iv. “the line”

everyone draws it somewhere. we all have a line we won’t cross, no matter the lengths we go for what we believe is a noble cause. where does your character draw it? how far will they go for something they truly believe is a noble cause? as discussed in part iii of my tips for morally grey characters,

would they lie? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? what about commit acts of vandalism? arson? would they kill?

but even when we have a line, sometimes we make exceptions for a variety of reasons. additionally, there are limits to some of the lengths we’d go to.

find your character’s line, their limits and their exceptions.

v. objectivism/relativism

objectivism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “an ethical theory that moral good is objectively real or that moral precepts are objectively valid.”

relativism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “a view that ethical truths depend on the individuals and groups holding them.”

what take on morality, as a concept, does your character have? is morality objective? is morality subjective?

we could really delve deep into this one, but this post is long enough that i don’t think we need to get into philosophical rambling… so this is a good starting point.

either way, exploring morality as a concept and how your character views it will allow for better application of their personal moral code.

vi. application

so, now you know what they believe and have a deep understanding of your character’s moral code, all that’s left is to apply it and understand how it informs their actions while taking their personality into account.

and interesting thing to note is that we are all hypocrites; you don’t have to do this, but it might be fun to play around with the concept of their moral code and add a little bit of hypocrisy to their actions as a treat.

either way, how do your character’s various beliefs interact? how does it make them interact with the world? with others? with their friends, family, and community? with their government? with their employment? with their studies? with the earth and environment itself?

in conclusion:

there’s a lot of things that inform one’s moral compass and i will never be able to touch on them all; however, this should hopefully serve as at least a basic guide.

#ldknightshade.txt #writing #writing tips #creative writing #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing advice #writing help #how to write #writing tumblr #writeblr

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bunnis-monsters · 1 year ago

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saw your bull and cow hybrid fic and found out you were doing an event!! would you be willing to tell us more about this au, no specific request i just want to know more about this, also congratulations on 5k!!!

Cow/Bull Hybrid Lore

I’m planning on making an entire post about the cow/bull hybrids but I’ll give y’all some snippets for now.

Cow and bull hybrids were created using the newest technology, crossing humans with cows and bulls. This was done to create beings that could produce milk without needing to be impregnated.

Though there are female cows and bulls, the males are the ones used for milk production the most since they can produce “milk” all year long.

Make bull/cow hybrid semen acts as a milk alternative, and is lactose free! It’s very creamy and sweet, and is very popular with women specifically.

A female farmhand is required to tend to the males, since they dislike male human hormones and charge at any males getting too close to their territory. There are male cow/bull hybrids that will form mating bonds with each other, but they aren’t likely to mate with a human male.

Each male cow/bull hybrid can produce 1-4 gallons of cum milk a day, depending on their build and species. Bulls are more likely to produce on the higher end.

Female cow hybrids are highly sought after by both cow and bull hybrid males. A heifer is seen as a rare treat, and everyone is eager to be the first to put a calf in her belly.

They have a preference for fat, chubby women. The closer you look to a heifer, the more they’re attracted. Once they’ve chosen a mate you’re screwed. You’re their breeding cow now.

Once a cow/bull hybrid gets you pregnant, he becomes very clingy and extra territorial, guarding the area you’re nesting in with his life. The bulls are eager to impale anyone that gets near, while the cows will stomp on any poor soul that tries to bother you.

You’ll be milked as if you’re an actual cow, and your baby is expected to start walking within a few days. Though, babies between humans and hybrids are rarely as strong as their hybrid parents, and are closer to their human parents in terms of their growth.

I’ll post more about them later~

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

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autie-j · 5 months ago

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30 Days of Autism Acceptance 2025

The autism month prompts are back this year! Rules: There are 30 questions corresponding to each day in April. Answer each question in your own separate post. You can answer all or just as many of them as you want. Make sure you tag your responses #30daysofautismacceptance and you can put them in the various autism tags too (#actually autistic, #autistic, etc). Please help spread this around before the start of April! And with that, I hope everyone enjoys the questions and has fun with this year's autism month prompts.

April 1st: Do you have trouble recognizing emotions in either yourself or other people? Do you ever find it hard to tell how you're feeling or even to describe how you're feeling to other people? Have you ever had trouble properly expressing your feelings? Do you have trouble recognizing what other people are feeling? How does this make life difficult for you, if it does?

April 2nd: Dependence. How independent are you? Are you able to live alone? Have a caretaker? Live with a relative? Is there anything you need help with in your daily life? If you live alone, does being autistic make anything about it more difficult? Do you wish you lived with someone?

April 3rd: Talk about family. How are your relationships with your family members? Are they generally supportive of you as an autistic person? Are they accommodating to your needs? Does being autistic affect your familial relationships in any meaningful way?

April 4th: What are your current special interests if you have any? What are some positive ways having special interests have affected your life? What are some negative ways that they have affected your life? How long do they tend to last for you? You could even talk about past special interests if you want.

April 5th: What are some ways that the neurotypical people in your life can help you specifically with the challenges you face as an autistic person? Ways they can accommodate you? How can neurotypical people help the autistic community as a whole?

April 6th: Talk about miscommunication. As autistic people communicating is something that is harder for us than neurotypical people, in what ways is communicating generally hard for you? Talk about how being autistic has led to an instance of miscommunication in the past. Talk about social blunders that you've made due to autism. Perhaps a situation where you misinterpreted something or where you said the wrong/insensitive thing.

April 7th: Have you had people treat you differently after you told them you were autistic? In what ways? How did you feel about it and what did you do?

April 8th: Are you a creative person? What are the types of things you create? Do you think being autistic has any influence over the types of things you create or your creativity in general?

April 9th: Do you struggle with mental health? Does being autistic affect your struggle with mental health? Do you have depression or anxiety and is it influenced by being autistic?

April 10th: Do you struggle with keeping up with physical health? Does being autistic affect it?

April 11th: What are some things that might come easy to neurotypical people, but which you either can't do or need help to do?

April 12th: What are some social rules that you don't understand? Talk about it.

April 13th: Are you able to pick up when someone is flirting with you or alternatively when someone is flirting with someone else? Do you know how to flirt?

April 14th: What are some of the most difficult aspects of being autistic to you? What makes it difficult? Talk about it.

April 15th: Is romance/romantic relationships harder for you as an autistic person? In what ways? If you've had romantic relationships, are your partners generally accepting of your autism? Do they do anything to help accommodate you? If you haven't had any romantic relationships, would you like one? Does being autistic make it harder for you to have one?

April 16th: Is loneliness or a sense of isolation something you either currently or in the past struggled with? Is it related to being autistic? What types of things helped you deal with it?

April 17th: Talk about stimming. In what ways do you stim? Are they vocal stims or physical stims? Do you have any stim toys? Do you tend to hand flap? Have people in the past been upset or annoyed with you for the ways in which you stim? And if so, how did it make you feel and how did you deal with it?

April 18th: Is lying something that's generally hard for you to do? Why? If so, do you tend to avoid lying? Can you usually tell when other people are lying?

April 19th: Do you ever feel infantalized by the people in your life? In what ways?

April 20th: Do people ever expect you to be capable of more things than you realistically are? In what ways?

April 21st: Do you feel like you are easier/more prone to being taken advantage of because of being autistic? Do you have trouble telling when people are being deceitful or have bad intentions towards you? Is there anything you do to combat this? Do you have people that help you with this?

April 22nd: Is there anything in life you want to do that you either can't or is very difficult for you to do because of being autistic?

April 23rd: Is there anything in life that you feel being autistic makes easier? Give some examples

April 24th: Have you experienced bullying? In a school or work environment for example. Talk about it if you are comfortable with it.

April 25th: If you could give advice to a child/newly diagnosed person on living life as an autistic person, what advice would you give?

April 26th: Do you find it easier to communicate online than in person? For what reasons?

April 27th: Is making friends something that you find hard to do? When you make new friends at what point do you usually tell them you're autistic? In what ways does being autistic affect your relationships, if at all?

April 28th: How difficult is it for you to read other people's tone of voice/facial expressions? Talk about situations where difficulty reading tone of voice/facial expressions made things harder for you

April 29th: How tactile of a person are you? Are you sensory seeking or sensory avoidant? Do you enjoy getting hugs and other types of expressive contact or do you avoid them? If the latter have you had issues ever with people not respecting that you don't like it?

April 30th: Autistic pride. How do you feel about being autistic? What does it mean to you? Is it something you take pride in? Have your feelings about being autistic changed since you first found out that you were autistic? And is there a final message you would like to share for the end of autism acceptance month? What would you like people to take away from this month?

#30daysofautismacceptance #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #autism #autistic #asd #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #writing prompts #autism acceptance #autism acceptance month

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juleswritesstuff · 6 months ago

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'Cause I’m a taker, 'cause I’m a giver

Would our beloved marauders and skittles prefer to be on the giving or the receiving end during oral ?

warnings: smut

James would be a giver through and through, one hundred percent, no questions asked.

He’d be the type of man that gets fully offended when he hears other guys refuse to go down on their girlfriends. He wouldn’t understand it, wouldn’t even start to comprehend how that could even be possible.

He’d live to please, to make sure you are spoiled, worshiped like you were more holy than human. Especially in the bedroom. Your body is a temple, and he’d be devoted to it, every single inch of it.

He’d use just his tongue to bring you to tears the first couple of rounds, nothing else. Not even his fingers.

He would start slowly, teasing, leaving feather-light kisses on the soft skin of your inner thighs, giving you the sweetest of tortures and creating a path that’d lead to the very object of his desires.

He’d pick up his pace as soon as a drop of your essence makes contact with the tip of his tongue. From then on, he’d be gone. He’d lick and suck and lap at your core like his life depended on it.

He'd delve his tongue in to feel you whole, feel your softness, your tightness, the way your sensitive and velvety walls would contract around the delicious intrusion, how wet you'd be by just the attention of his skilled mouth.

He'd take his sweet time with it, too, alternating between relentless flicks of his tongue and languid laps that make your legs shake in both need and impatience. He’d add his fingers then, slowly, one by one, stretching you out and brushing that sweet spot until he brings you so close to the edge that your vision blurs, your mind blanks, and you come undone with a cry of his name on your lips.

He'd dirty talk you through the whole thing, too. And when I say dirty, I mean absolutely filthy.

It wouldn't matter if his mouth is already occupied with its mission to make you fall apart piece by piece; he'd let it run free and wild to add fuel to the fire already consuming every cell of your body.

Sirius would be both, in equal parts.

I feel like he wouldn't really have a preference. He'd love to please you as much as he'd love to be pleased.

It would depend on the mood, on the vibe, and on who decides to make the first move.

If it's you, he'd let you take the reins, look at you with the lewdest bedroom eyes ever (this man has the most sensual ‘fuck me’ gaze, I just know that) as you sink to your knees, and he’d fully let you do whatever you wish to him. Slow strokes, fast rhythm, swallowing him whole, sucking his head leisurely, using your hands, using your mouth; it wouldn’t matter. You set the pace, make the rules, and he’d gladly take everything you offer him. Not without any complaints, though, especially when you’d have a little too much fun. He’d whine and grumble and grab the chair handles or the sheets so tight his knuckles would lose all their blood flow, but he’d never tell you to stop.

Because the truth is he’d love to be teased a little but would absolutely never admit it. He wouldn't need to; you'd feel it right down your throat.

If it's him, you better buckle up because you'd be in for a ride.

He’d be a full-on menace, the biggest of teases.

He’d drag it out as much as he could without making you actually come, slowly but surely work you up with his tongue, his fingers, pumping them carefully, precisely, spreading your wetness all over your tender cunt just to dive in right after and eat you out like a madman until your eyes get watery, and it’s the fourth time he brings you so close to heaven, only to snatch it away from you when you’re just about to get through the gates of pleasure.

And he’d do all of that with the sultriest smirk on his face.

Remus would be both, but with a little twist.

Because I feel like no matter the scenario, he'd be the one to have the upper hand.

It would be the softest, gentlest kind of dominance, but he'd still be the one leading, whether it's his head between your thighs or the other way around.

His words would be as sweet as honey, his voice a velvety whisper sending shivers throughout your whole body, the coaxing tone he'd use betrayed by his labored breathing, his filthy words, and his hands shaking as he'd resist every instinct his brain would scream at him to succumb to.

But he wouldn't listen to it; he'd keep politely telling you to relax your throat for him, hollow your cheeks a bit more, stroke him faster, swallow around him.

He wouldn't straight-up order you around; that's not the kind of ‘control’ he would be into, in my opinion. He'd be firm, sure -or as firm as he'd manage to be with your mouth or hands on him- but his tone would be laced with a sensuality, a sultriness that would turn his words more into enticing suggestions.

And you'd listen to him so well, of course.

So much so that you would deserve a reward for it, wouldn't you ?

He'd gladly give it to you, gently nudging your legs open, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs with his big hands as he approaches your heat slowly, kissing and worshiping every inch of skin under his lips except for where you’d need him the most, where you’d be dripping for him.

Because he wouldn’t simply give you what you want; no, that would be too easy. He would make you beg for it, tease you until you’re nothing but a stuttering mess throwing insults at him because you're losing your mind over him and his cruel little games.

He’d honestly be endeared by it, thinking you’re so cute with that frown on your face and the flames of desire and impatience burning in your eyes so brightly.

He’d give in, in the end. Because you deserve it.

And because, let’s face it, he couldn’t go one second more without your taste on his tongue.

Regulus would be a giver for the most part.

Why ?

Because he would want to look at you and all your little blissed-out expressions as he is taking you apart piece by piece.

He is an observer; he has learned to study people ever since a very young age, reading every single change in someone’s voice, posture, walking pattern, micro-expressions, and mannerism.

But with you it would be different. He wouldn’t observe you like he does with other people, like he is reading an instructions manual to know what to expect from the person in front of him with just a quick, simple glance. He’d read you like a poem. Attentively, carefully, taking his time to understand the magnificent work of art that is you.

He wouldn’t do that because he has to. But because he wants to.

He'd want to catch every single shift in your features, every soft exhale leaving your lips, every moan you’d try to swallow down as he lays next to you, his skilled fingers pumping leisurely in and out of you, breaching through your sensitive core, massaging the tender skin of your walls in a rhythm so exquisite yet so excruciatingly slow that you’d have to start begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve the growing ache between your legs.

The heel of his palm would press on your clit with every prod, every stroke of his long and slender fingers inside of you; the friction so good, so sweet and addicting it would snatch the breath out of you, leaving you a blubbering mess as he takes in the way your features contort in pleasure.

Only then, when you would be a step away from reaching your high, your mind hazy and filled only with a perpetual chant of his name that would also roll off your lips, would he get his mouth on you.

And you’d already be soaked, drenched, and so hypersensitive that he would only need to get a taste of you, gather your essence on his tongue, and spread it on your folds, licking and lapping until he’d reach that little bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently.

You’d be gone in seconds, and he’d have the image of your blissful, fucked-out expression engraved in his brain forever.

Barty would be a receiver. One hundred percent.

And with that I don't mean he would never ever go down on you, because he would, and with immense pleasure too, might I add.

But the feeling of euphoria he'd get from seeing you on your knees, your mascara messy and ruined from the sheer veil of tears coating your eyes as your lips stretch around his cock, would send him into overdrive.

He’d look at you the whole time, lidded eyes darkened with hunger, looking at you through his lashes even when all he’d want to do is throw his head back and get lost in the feeling. He wouldn’t let himself do that, though; he would keep his eyes on you, drinking in the sight he’s being blessed with. His hands would be everywhere: in your hair, sometimes pulling gently, some other times moving them out of the way to fully see you and your sinful mouth working him up; on your face, brushing away the black ink staining your cheeks as they hollow to accommodate him better, farther.

But his favorite place would be right on the curve between your chin and your neck, where, if he’d put just the slightest bit of pressure, he’d feel your throat contracting and relaxing every time he drags his cock in and out of you. It’d make his head spin.

His whole body would be tense, too, the muscles of his thighs, of his torso, flexing beneath his heated skin as he’d try to stop himself from literally choking you with his erratic thrusts.

But his hips would gain a consciousness of their own, arching forward to meet your greedy mouth, seeking its warmth, its perfect embrace around him, slithering himself in deeper, faster, his head hitting the back of your throat as a string of breathless groans rolls off his tongue.

He’d like it a little messy, honestly. Just like him.

Hello to all of you beautiful people 💗

How are you ? I hope you're doing good and that you spent some amazing holidays ❤

For the first time in months, I finally managed to write something decent, or at least I hope so. So here it is.

It's not exactly what I had promised you, I know (part two of the last request is in the works, don't you worry but I am afraid you'll have to wait a little more), and, on top of that, is also later that I had anticipated, so I am once again really sorry.

I'm also sorry to inform you that I'm taking another writing break until mid February. My exam session will end around then, and I'll finally be able to write more and better 😭

Sorry again for my absence, and sorry for having to disappear again for a little while.

I hope you enjoyed this little thing I came up with, and thank you again for reading my work💗

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