#faiths inbox

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Hi! I saw that you were taking requests you can ignore this if you’d like but literally can’t stop thinking about a threesome between remmick and bo🙂‍↔️ maybe something that follows the plot of the movie🤍

Ours||Remmick x reader x bo chow

Summary —You didn’t mean to call both of them. But when the pain got too loud, when the blood wouldn’t wash off and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, you needed something real something grounding.

Word count —2605

Warnings M/F/M Threesome Double Penetration (DP) Oral Sex (f and m receiving) Fingering Face-fucking (softly edged with care) Praise Kink Possessiveness / Territorial Behavior Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics Cockwarming Eye Contact During Sex Overstimulation Dirty Talk Gentle Aftercare Bruises & Bitemarks Semi-Rough Sex Emotional Sex Soft Dom!Remmick Teasing Dom!Bo Reader is the Center of Gravity Slight Jealousy / Power Play Between Males Vulnerability During Sex

You’re still shaking when the door opens.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the overhead lights and the soft sound of your breath trying to even out. Blood crusts the edge of your temple, and your ribs ache with every inhale. You haven’t taken off your boots. You haven’t moved since you sat down.

Bo’s the first one to arrive. He doesn’t knock. Just steps inside, then stops cold when he sees you.

His cocky expression falters—just for a second. Long enough that you know it’s real. Long enough that it matters.

“You look like hell,” he says eventually, voice low, not teasing for once.

You don’t answer. Your fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh.

Bo walks over slowly, crouching in front of you. “What happened?”

You shake your head, and his jaw tightens.

Before you can speak—before either of you can find the words you’re too tired to say—the door opens again.

Remmick. Taller in the frame. Shadowed eyes sweeping over the scene like he’s trying to assess for threat, for damage. For you.

His gaze lingers on Bo for a beat. Then on you. He doesn’t speak either. Just shuts the door and crosses the room.

They don’t look at each other, not yet. It’s all you.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you murmur, and your voice sounds thinner than you expect.

“I always come when it’s you,” Remmick says quietly.

Bo shifts beside you on the couch, his hand brushing against your knee. “You called both of us?”

You nod.

Bo chuckles under his breath, something dark and incredulous. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“I didn’t plan it,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” Remmick replies, voice gruff but calm. “You needed us.”

The room pulses with quiet. Not tension—something deeper. Recognition. That this isn’t about competition. Not tonight.

Remmick kneels beside you, opposite Bo. His calloused fingers brush your cheek, tilting your face to his. “You okay being touched?”

You nod again. Slower.

His touch is gentle. Reverent.

Bo watches the way Remmick moves, then looks at you, head tilted. “You always let him go first?”

“I didn’t know there were rules,” you murmur.

Bo smirks—but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There aren’t. Not tonight.”

And then there’s heat. Rising from their skin, from yours. It creeps in quiet and slow like a fever, like gravity pulling three bodies closer in the dark.

When Bo leans in to kiss you, it’s sharp and hot and demanding. When Remmick follows, it’s slower, rougher around the edges—like he’s holding himself back, just barely.

You feel their hands on your thighs. Their mouths on your neck. Two men who are nothing alike and yet move around you like they were made to share you. Like tonight, they will.

And you’ll let them.

Because you need it.

Because you want it.

Because with them—both of them—you don’t have to survive alone.

Bo’s mouth is already on your throat, licking up the dried sweat and blood, mouthing over your pulse like it’s something he could drink from. His hands are fast, greedy—sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing bruised ribs with surprising care. “You’re still shaking,” he murmurs. “Let us fix that.”

Remmick’s fingers are in your hair, angling your head so he can kiss you properly. Deep and slow, like it hurts to be gentle. His palm rests heavy against the side of your throat—not choking, not yet, just holding. Grounding.

You whimper, the sound caught between Bo’s lips on your collarbone and Remmick’s tongue in your mouth.

“Take your clothes off,” Remmick says, voice husky and firm.

You move to obey, fumbling with your shirt, but Bo tuts, already pulling it over your head with practiced ease.

“Let us,” he says, almost like it’s a challenge. “You don’t lift a finger tonight.”

They strip you together, piece by piece—Bo working fast, smirking at every hiss and gasp he draws out of you, while Remmick moves slower, more methodical, like he’s cataloging every inch of your skin. Their hands brush over each other across your body, and still, they don’t fight. Not yet. Not when you’re the focus.

Bo gets your pants off first and sits back on his heels to admire you, biting his lip. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

Remmick is behind you now, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’re gonna take care of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and fraying. “You trust us?”

You nod, breath hitching. “Yes.”

Bo grins like he’s won something. “Then lie back.”

You do—and the world tilts.

Remmick’s hands are on your thighs, spreading them wide, his mouth trailing down your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Bo kneels between your legs next to him, one hand sliding between them, fingers brushing teasingly close to your core.

“You’re soaked already,” Bo says with a soft, surprised laugh, then drags his fingers through your folds, slow and deliberate. “And we haven’t even gotten started.”

You arch into the touch, hips twitching.

Remmick looks up at you from between your thighs. “Let him warm you up,” he murmurs, his voice dark. “Then I’m going to fuck you so deep you won’t remember what it’s like to be empty.”

Bo chuckles, breath hot against your thigh. “Always the poet.”

But then his mouth replaces his fingers and you stop thinking. His tongue moves like he’s trying to undo you—fast, wet, relentless—while Remmick keeps his hands on your hips, steadying you as you writhe and gasp.

They work in tandem—Bo licking and sucking, two fingers sliding inside you slick and easy, curling just right—while Remmick kisses your jaw, your throat, your mouth. You’re being devoured from both sides.

Your first orgasm hits fast, brutal. You cry out, hips jerking, and Bo groans against your cunt like he’s starving for it.

“Good girl,” Remmick murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “You want more?”

You’re already nodding, dazed.

Bo rises, wiping his mouth, eyes dark and hungry. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

“On your knees,” Remmick says, voice low and thick with need. He’s behind you again, pulling you up from the sheets like you weigh nothing, steadying you with one hand at the base of your spine. His other palm coasts up your ribs, firm and possessive.

Bo’s in front of you, already stripped down, cock heavy and flushed in his hand. “Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, staring down at you like you’re a goddamn gift.

You open your mouth and he slides in slow, letting you set the pace at first. One of his hands threads into your hair, not pushing—just holding. Grounding. His hips twitch when your tongue swirls around the head, and he lets out a quiet, reverent curse.

“Fuck… she’s good at that, huh?” Bo says breathlessly, eyes flicking up to Remmick with a crooked grin.

Remmick doesn’t answer. His hand presses firmer against your lower back, then slips between your thighs again. Two thick fingers push into you, slow and rough, and your moan vibrates around Bo’s cock.

Bo shudders. “Oh, she likes that.”

“Of course she does,” Remmick mutters. “She likes being full.”

There’s something dangerous in his voice now—possessive and territorial.

Bo catches it too. His smirk turns sharp. “Gotta wonder how many times you’ve imagined this,” he says, voice low, taunting. “Me. You. Her. Sharing.”

Remmick’s tone is ice. “I don’t share.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Bo lets out a soft moan when you take him deeper. “She’s doing just fine like this.”

Remmick doesn’t answer. He adds a third finger and curls them deep, and you choke around Bo, eyes watering from the overwhelming stretch and pleasure.

You whimper when Bo pulls out suddenly, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty thing?” he asks, but the question’s for control, not permission.

“She’s not yours,” Remmick growls from behind you.

Bo meets his eyes, deliberately stroking your jaw with possessive tenderness. “She’s not yours either, Rem.”

The moment hangs—tense, electric.

You should feel like a rope pulled between two snarling wolves.

But instead, you feel worshipped.

“You’re both mine,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ruined, looking up at Bo and back over your shoulder at Remmick. “Tonight.”

That shatters whatever boundary was left between them.

Bo kisses you hard, messy and breathless, and Remmick groans low in his chest as he drags his cock against your slick entrance, lining himself up.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls into your ear. “You take me first. Then we’ll see if you can handle both.”

You cry out when he thrusts into you—deep, stretching, devastating. Bo’s mouth is still on yours, swallowing the sound as your body bows, caught between too much and not enough.

Remmick fucks you slow and punishing, hips grinding deep like he’s branding himself into you. His hand slips up to your throat again, not choking—just holding. Possessive. Grounding. Bo strokes himself as he watches, breath ragged, eyes dark and greedy.

“Look at her,” Bo murmurs. “Already falling apart.”

Remmick snarls. “She’s not falling apart. She’s opening up.”

You tremble in their grip, a mess of slick skin and broken gasps, completely wrecked—and still hungry.

Bo kneels in front of you again. “Ready for both of us?”

Your eyes flutter open, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes.”

“On your knees,” Remmick says, voice low and thick with need. He’s behind you again, pulling you up from the sheets like you weigh nothing, steadying you with one hand at the base of your spine. His other palm coasts up your ribs, firm and possessive.

Bo’s in front of you, already stripped down, cock heavy and flushed in his hand. “Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, staring down at you like you’re a goddamn gift.

You open your mouth and he slides in slow, letting you set the pace at first. One of his hands threads into your hair, not pushing—just holding. Grounding. His hips twitch when your tongue swirls around the head, and he lets out a quiet, reverent curse.

“Fuck… she’s good at that, huh?” Bo says breathlessly, eyes flicking up to Remmick with a crooked grin.

Remmick doesn’t answer. His hand presses firmer against your lower back, then slips between your thighs again. Two thick fingers push into you, slow and rough, and your moan vibrates around Bo’s cock.

Bo shudders. “Oh, she likes that.”

“Of course she does,” Remmick mutters. “She likes being full.”

There’s something dangerous in his voice now—possessive and territorial.

Bo catches it too. His smirk turns sharp. “Gotta wonder how many times you’ve imagined this,” he says, voice low, taunting. “Me. You. Her. Sharing.”

Remmick’s tone is ice. “I don’t share.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Bo lets out a soft moan when you take him deeper. “She’s doing just fine like this.”

Remmick doesn’t answer. He adds a third finger and curls them deep, and you choke around Bo, eyes watering from the overwhelming stretch and pleasure.

You whimper when Bo pulls out suddenly, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty thing?” he asks, but the question’s for control, not permission.

“She’s not yours,” Remmick growls from behind you.

Bo meets his eyes, deliberately stroking your jaw with possessive tenderness. “She’s not yours either, Rem.”

The moment hangs—tense, electric.

You should feel like a rope pulled between two snarling wolves.

But instead, you feel worshipped.

“You’re both mine,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ruined, looking up at Bo and back over your shoulder at Remmick. “Tonight.”

That shatters whatever boundary was left between them.

Bo kisses you hard, messy and breathless, and Remmick groans low in his chest as he drags his cock against your slick entrance, lining himself up.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls into your ear. “You take me first. Then we’ll see if you can handle both.”

You cry out when he thrusts into you—deep, stretching, devastating. Bo’s mouth is still on yours, swallowing the sound as your body bows, caught between too much and not enough.

Remmick fucks you slow and punishing, hips grinding deep like he’s branding himself into you. His hand slips up to your throat again, not choking—just holding. Possessive. Grounding. Bo strokes himself as he watches, breath ragged, eyes dark and greedy.

“Look at her,” Bo murmurs. “Already falling apart.”

Remmick snarls. “She’s not falling apart. She’s opening up.”

You tremble in their grip, a mess of slick skin and broken gasps, completely wrecked—and still hungry.

Bo kneels in front of you again. “Ready for both of us?”

Your eyes flutter open, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes.”

Remmick shifts behind you, pulling out slowly, groaning low in his throat. “On your back.”

You move without question—body slick with sweat, limbs trembling. Bo helps guide you down, kissing your temple in an uncharacteristically soft gesture. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

Remmick settles behind you again, this time with your back to his chest. His thighs bracket yours. One hand grips your leg, the other holds your hand. Anchoring you.

“You ready?” he murmurs against your neck, cock slick and hard again, nudging between your folds.

You nod, breath stuttering. “Yes.”

He sinks back into you with a broken groan, deeper this time—his chest rising and falling fast against your back. You can feel how tightly he’s holding on to his control.

Then Bo kneels between your legs, lining himself up with your tight, still-stretched entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, serious for once. No smirk. No teasing. Just those dark eyes on yours, waiting.

You reach up and touch his cheek. “Don’t.”

He pushes in slowly, carefully—inch by inch, with Remmick murmuring into your skin the whole time: “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking us both. Just like that.”

The stretch is intense. Too much. Perfect. You gasp, body shuddering as you’re filled to the point of breaking.

Bo lets out a shaky groan. “Fuck, fuck—you feel unreal.”

They start to move—slow, synced, each one waiting for the other. You’re pinned between them, completely full, completely theirs.

Remmick’s teeth graze your shoulder. “You’re ours tonight.”

Bo kisses your ankle, then your knee, his hips rocking in time with Remmick’s. “You were made for this,” he says, voice strained. “Made for us.”

Your second orgasm crashes over you without warning—so sharp it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. You cry out, body clenching tight around them, and they groan in unison, both hips stuttering.

Remmick’s hand is on your chest now, right over your heart. Holding you like he can keep it from breaking.

Bo leans down, kisses you deep and slow, then murmurs, “Look at me. I want to see you fall apart again.”

And you do—because with them, like this, you don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to survive. You can just feel.

They follow close behind—Remmick first, snarling your name against your neck as he spills inside you, hips jerking. Bo seconds later, buried deep, lips parted and shaking with the force of it.

When it’s over, you’re boneless between them. Quiet. Ruined.

Bo presses a kiss to your forehead. Remmick wraps his arms tight around your waist, breathing hard.

For a long time, none of you speak.

Then Bo breaks the silence with a soft, stunned laugh. “Well… that’s gonna fuck with all of us, huh?”

You smile—just barely. “Yeah.”

Remmick doesn’t laugh. He just holds you tighter. “I’m not letting either of you walk away like this didn’t mean something.”

And that’s what truly unravels you.

[faithsmadhouse]

streamer!max who lets lando record you and him fucking.

Smile for the Cameras||Streamer!Max Verstappen x Reader (feat. Lando Norris)

Summary—max like showing you off and you like that attention.

Warnings: Voyeurism, filming, degradation kink (light), praise kink, oral (f receiving), rough sex, possession kink, implied masturbation (Lando), intense eye contact, verbal control, aftercare

Word count—1348

A/n finished this three days ago forgot to post it

The apartment’s still bathed in the soft glow of Max’s RGB stream setup when he closes the door behind him. The air hums with leftover energy—electric, sharp around the edges. One of Max’s arms loops around your waist possessively. The other hooks into Lando’s hoodie and tugs him forward like he’s reeling in a fish.

“I said you could watch,” Max mutters, voice low and hot against your ear, “but only if you film it right.”

Lando stumbles into the room, awkward and flushed, his usual cocky smirk nowhere in sight. His eyes flick from you to Max to the bed, like he’s not sure where to land. His mouth opens—maybe to ask a question, maybe to back out—but no sound comes.

Max doesn’t wait. He grabs the camera from his desk: sleek, expensive, something he only brings out for certain content. He hands it over to Lando like it weighs nothing, but the way Lando’s hands fumble says otherwise.

“This isn’t a stream,” Max adds, almost casual. “No chat. No subs. No filters.”

He steps behind you, large palm sliding up your stomach beneath your shirt, dragging it up until your ribs are bare and your breath hitches.

“This is for me. And for you,” he adds, tossing Lando a loaded glance. “So don’t fuck it up.”

Lando’s voice finally cracks out of him, thin and unsure. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

Max just laughs under his breath, mouth brushing your neck. “You think I’d let you through the door if I wasn’t?”

He grips your chin next, fingers firm but careful, and tilts your face toward his. His gaze is heavy. Not possessive yet—but close.

“You okay, baby?” he asks. The kind of question that sounds like a command. “Need you to say it. Loud enough for our guest.”

You nod first. But then you speak.

“I want it.”

Max smiles. Not soft. Crooked. Dangerous. His thumb brushes the side of your throat as he kisses your jaw, then turns to Lando.

“You hear that?”

Lando nods. Wordless.

Max’s smile sharpens. “Then start filming. Or get the fuck out.”

Lando jumps a little, the camera clicking on with a faint beep. He raises it like it shields him, holding it between his hands like it might bite him otherwise.

“Focus on her,” Max says as he guides you toward the bed, letting you sink onto the edge. “Keep it steady. I don’t want that shaky Twitch bullshit.”

“I—okay,” Lando mutters. He’s already red from the neck up. His gaze flicks over you, then snaps back to the camera’s tiny monitor like that somehow makes it less real.

Max starts peeling off his shirt, slow and unhurried, watching both of you with the same lazy intensity he gets when he’s ten rounds into a shooter and already winning.

“Jesus,” Lando mutters under his breath. “This is fucking insane.”

Max chuckles, tossing his shirt aside.

“You’re not backing out, are you?”

Lando doesn’t answer right away.

His eyes lift, meet yours for a beat. Something flickers in them—not just arousal, but a question. A plea for reassurance that he’s not crossing some unspoken line.

You give him the smallest nod.

And maybe that’s all he needs.

Max sees it, too. He watches the quiet exchange with a tilt of his head, then steps in between your legs and rests his hands on your thighs.

“See that?” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “She wants you to watch.”

He leans in, brushing his lips over your ear, voice darker now. “She gets off on it.”

You shiver under his hands.

“She’s mine. But she likes to be seen,” Max continues, like he’s explaining how you work. For the camera. For Lando. For himself. “And I like letting people know what they can’t fucking have.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. Then another to your mouth. And when he pulls back, his voice is soft—just for you.

“You’re still good?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Color?”

“Green.”

Max smiles again. “Good girl.”

Then he looks at Lando, and the softness vanishes.

“You better be filming.”

The camera clicks into sharper focus. The tension breaks into heat.

And the show begins.

Your back hits the mattress, and Max is on you in seconds, dragging his shirt over his head, eyes locked to yours like he’s daring you to look away. You don’t. Not when he spreads your legs. Not when he kneels between them and drags his tongue slow and firm through your folds, growling against you like he needs it more than oxygen.

“She’s already wet,” Max murmurs, voice rich and smug for the camera. “Are you watching this?”

You moan, high and open, hips bucking up—but he pins you down with an arm over your stomach, glancing back toward Lando.

“She’s so fucking needy. Always like this when someone’s watching.”

Your thighs shake when he sucks your clit between his lips, relentless and messy, groaning like he’s trying to swallow every sound you make. You grip the sheets, eyes fluttering shut.

“Eyes on him, baby,” Max warns, dragging two fingers into you with a wet snap. “Look at Lando while I make you cum. Let him see how pretty you break.”

It takes everything in you to lift your head, to meet Lando’s eyes behind the lens. He looks stunned, stiff as a statue, face burning—and fuck, it only makes it hotter.

You cum hard and fast, with Max’s name spilling from your lips and Lando’s breath hitching audibly. The camera dips, like his hands are shaking.

Max pulls back, mouth and chin slick with you, wiping it off with the back of his hand like it’s nothing. He gets to his feet, strips the rest of the way down, and fists his cock—already hard, red and leaking.

“She cums so easy for me,” Max tells him. “And I’m not even inside her yet.”

When he presses into you, it’s all at once—deep, possessive, overwhelming. You cry out, clinging to his shoulders, and Max groans right into your mouth, biting at your lip as he starts to move.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he breathes, snapping his hips. “Say it for the camera.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper.

He fucks you rough, steady, one hand gripping your jaw so tight your bones ache, the other sliding down to rub your clit again.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Max pants, voice hoarse and drunk on you. “Fucking tight. Takes me like she’s made for it.”

The bed creaks beneath you. Sweat sticks to your chest. You’re drowning in him—his weight, his words, the heat of his body—but the camera never leaves you. You feel Lando’s gaze like it’s physical, like it’s burning your skin where the lens touches.

Max grabs your face again, forces you to look up. “You think he’s touching himself?”

You whimper.

“He’s gonna cum to this for weeks. Knowing he watched me wreck you first.”

You spiral, eyes rolling back, and Max groans your name like a prayer.

“That’s it. Cum for me. Let him see.”

You break on a moan so loud it drowns everything else out. Max fucks you through it, unforgiving and breathless, before he finally shudders, curses, and buries himself deep inside you with a growl.

The room is silent, heavy with sex and sweat and heat.

Max leans over you, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then your mouth—gentle, grounding, his hand brushing damp hair from your face. “You good, baby?”

You nod, spent. Barely able to speak.

Lando is still standing there, camera hanging limp in one hand, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

Max glances over, smirks.

“You wanna see the footage?” he asks, lazy and smug. “Might have to make you film the next one too.”

Lando swallows hard.

And doesn’t say no.

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[infamous-if]

is misfit alley the type of band to make statements on their opinions or spread awareness of current world issues or are they the type to shy away and try to stay neutral

In the beginning, yes, G was a trooper and very starry-eyed and wanted to change the industry and use their platform for good but now not really. G is jaded and finds it all pointless and doesn't really try anymore beyond throwing money at a charity and calling it a day unfortunately

i dont want to say they dont care but yeah they dont care lsmjsjd theyre too focused on themselves to give a damn about helping other people (right now) it's unfortunate but it is what it is (g's motto)

[omagpies]

in re: the frankenau asks that came in in the last couple of hours. you guys Gotta stop treating artists like gen AI that is here to spit out art at your poorly worded prompts

i’m not putting anyone on blast with screenshots but there is a difference between actually engaging with a story and expressing curiosity, and going literally ‘okay now give me more X’. i’m just here to play. you can play with me, or you can commission me, but you can’t expect free art out of being rude. just saying :)

[yaekiss]

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆?

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Male! Sub! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms for reader, no mention of reader's anatomy, prostate milking (Sydney receiving), fingering and use of sex toy (Sydney receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: def tried making this smut fic a lot more lovely-dovey than my usual ones as per the donator's req! hopefully it doesn't come across as too cringy/cheesy >< !! and thank you to the donator for being so niceys and understanding <33 once again, "800-1500 words" qi says. harharhar (2.5k words orz...) ANYWAYS hope you like the fic and thank you so much for donating !!!!!!! ꩜ This was written as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the linked event post above ^^

Sydney supposes that there are stranger things than working in a sex toy shop (that's owned by your parent) with your partner. However, these things aren't really coming to mind when there's a patron who's definitely oversharing about their Friday night plans while he's trying to check out their items at the cash register. 

“I've read rave reviews about this model online from people who've bought it before. I can't wait to try it out and y'know, see how many it can wring outta me,” they continue to ramble on cheerily as Sydney tries to key in another product code manually for the umpteenth time today. (Curse you broken barcode scanner.)

“Maybe I'd even beat my personal best of-” The grating sound of the receipt printer working cuts the patron off. 

“Oh oops, my bad, feel free to forget everything I said!” The patron quips with a hearty laugh. “I really do overshare too much sometimes. Thanks for not cutting me off, huh. And for ringing me up.”

Whistling as they leave, the patron finally heads out of the shop, leaving a poor Sydney to stew in silence alone with everything he's heard for the past few minutes.

Unfortunately for him, Sydney does more than stew in silence for the rest of his shift. He finds himself staring off into space while daydreaming about certain activities more often than not, causing the diligent blond you know to make some rather uncharacteristic fumbles. Namely, bumping into your back whenever he follows behind you into the inventory room to restock merchandise. Or accidentally mistyping product codes repeatedly at the cash register.

Concerned about your lover's distracted state today, you pull him into the privacy of the inventory room when the both of you go for a quick break.

“You alright out there? You seem pretty out of it today Syd,” you start off, voice tinged with worry.

“Huh?” Sydney tilts his head before his brain catches up and he processes your question. 

“If you're tired, I could cover for you today while you rest up,” you offer.

You really are too sweet, he thinks. Worried that he might be tired when, in actual fact, he's been too busy thinking about you wringing out orgasm after orgasm from him until he's milked within an inch of his life. 

Heat rushes to his face when he realises that he should probably confess the truth to you in order to reassure you that nothing's wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, he starts rattling off the whole story a mile a minute, eyes trained anywhere except on you.

“...So that's why I've been so distracted and it's because all I can think about is you. Or your hands on me. Or your fingers in me! Whichever works! Ah I've said too much!” 

The silence that drags on after his near incoherent rambling is unbearable. When he finally hazards a glance back up at you to gauge your reaction, he certainly didn't expect you to look this interested.

“Let's ask if Sirris will let me stay over in your room tonight.” 

The remainder of the shift passes by in a blur with the prospect of what's about to happen later on. When the both of you clamber into the back seat of Sirris' car after closing up shop, you politely broach the topic of a sleepover with Sydney. And when they agree, you feel Sydney reach over and give your hand a light squeeze, a shy grin on his face.

“Why don't you shower first and get ready while I prepare?” Shooting him a reassuring look, he kisses you on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom. 

After getting everything ready and establishing a safeword, you instruct your lover to lie on the bed.

“Let me know if anything gets uncomfortable, yeah?” Reaching over to his bedside table, he hears you open a container of lube. Sydney waits with bated breath as you spread the thick substance around on your fingers, simultaneously warming it up. Once you've made sure that the lube isn't too cold, you also apply a generous amount to his entrance.

“Relax for me Syd.” He nods, inhaling before exhaling slowly. Your other clean hand goes to hold his as you massage the surrounding area for a bit. Eyes trained on his expression to monitor for any discomfort, you gingerly breach past his rim with a singular finger. Carefully, you slip more of your finger in, occasionally wiggling it and prodding around to loosen him up more. Each little movement causes Sydney to suck in a short breath, his gaze peering down at where you’ve entered him. Before long, you’re knuckle deep in him.

“Feels kind of strange,” he murmurs to you after you paused to let him adjust to the sensation, “but you can keep going.”

Your second finger enters without too much trouble and once more, you take it slow. After it's fully in, you start with some scissoring motions with both your fingers. This time, you get a bigger reaction out of him. You’re rewarded with the cutest breathy gasps and pants, and when you look back up at him, Sydney’s pupils are dilated whilst he sports a lovely light blush on the apples of his cheek. It’s a good look on him, one you’re keen to see unravel even more as the night progresses.

Belatedly, a thought occurs to him as it rises through the growing pleasing buzz in his brain, He dazedly realises that you’re probing around for something, the pads of your fingers dragging and tracing along his walls. It’s at that second, it hits him, in every sense of the phrase. Something akin to electricity shoots straight through him when your fingers find his prostate. Sydney gasps and jolts beneath you, eyes flying open at the foreign feeling, and that's when he notes how your eyes light up with a devious glint.

Wasting no time, you get to work, honing in on that spot. Immediately, you have your lover’s back arching off the bed as you rub and bully his prostate. Pitchy keening and moaning fills the room as you watch him begin to fall apart on your fingers. 

“Feeling good?”

“U-Uh huh…!” He nods dumbly, words suddenly starting to become too hard to string together.

The filthy squelching noises have him flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. When he squeezes down on your fingers, it's like everything feels too full, too good, too sinful. In the far back end of Sydney's brain, where he hasn't yet lost himself to the throes of pleasure, he realises that he's been grinding down on your fingers, chasing his own high mindlessly. For him to already be reduced to such a state this early on, he wonders how fast it'd take for you to completely ruin him tonight.

He feels the heat building up in him at the thought of placing himself wholly in your hands. Yours to wreck, yours to love. Only you could see this side of him. Sydney's pulse thunders in his ears, with every strategic movement of your fingers threatening to make him spill over at any moment now.

You know your lover well enough to spot the telltale signs that he's going to cum soon. The jagged, raspy groans, eyes rolling back before shutting tight, soft pants of please, please, please. Picking up the pace, you alternate between hitting his prostate dead on and rubbing circles into it. And when Sydney's whole body goes taut, his cock bobbing as white splatters onto his belly, a long, drawn-out moan ripped from his throat, you know you're done with your first round.

You’re gracious enough to let him recover for a bit, pulling your fingers out briefly to reapply another glob of lube onto them. During this downtime, Sydney manages to sluggishly peel open his eyes to peer up at you. Sweat causes his hair to stick to his forehead, but it doesn’t stop you from shifting over and leaning down to press a chaste kiss onto his flushed skin.

“You still with me?” Your clean hand goes to pet the crown of his head. He swears that if he could purr right now, he would.

“Yeah,” he says between languid lazy blinks, “I’m good. Thank you.”

With this confirmation, your two fingers return inside, drawing a breathy gasp from him at the sensation of being filled again. Additionally, you gradually try to fit one more finger in him to stretch him out even more, bringing the number up to three. Once you’ve made sure that he’s adjusted to the extra digit, you instantly resume the brutal pace you had earlier. Still sensitive from before, your dear blond blubbers and pleads for mercy, his head thrown back as he’s plunged back into pure ecstasy again without warning. 

“C'mon, you can give me another one Syd,” you coo out sweetly. The smile on your face is gentle. However, your ministrations are anything but. 

“Ungh! Ah, ah-!” You give him no respite from the growing pressure in him, working him just the way he likes. Always so attentive, eyes constantly watching all of him, learning what things makes him lose his mind. His thighs tense and he clenches tight around your fingers, losing himself to the euphoria clouding his mind.

He's shaking as another orgasm racks through him, eyes rolling into the back of his skull at the onslaught of pleasure. You're ruthless, he thinks, and that's exactly what he wanted.

Heavy panting fills the room as your dear Sydney tries to catch his breath but you don't give him a chance to. You pull your fingers out of him, eliciting a pitchy whine at the sudden loss, before it's quickly replaced by something else prodding at his rim.

Blearily, he looks down and sees that it's the toy that the patron had bought earlier, the exact brand and model they were rambling about. Turns out you swiped it from the inventory room while the both of you were closing up the shop. (“I'll just say we were testing out the shop's products. See if it was good enough to be stocked on the shelves,” you explain to Sydney the next morning.)

Slowly, you ease the toy into his hole after you applied a good amount of lube to it. It's just slightly thicker than the three fingers you had in him earlier, but the stretch doesn't hurt judging by how he's already subconsciously trying to fuck himself on it.

My, such an impatient lover you have here on your hands. But you suppose that this simply makes it easier to give him just what he wants. 

You continue pushing the toy in and angle it directly at the spot that he's trying to hit. His fingers grasp at the sheets underneath him as it ventures deeper within him. Sydney feels it all, the slow drag of the ribbed shaft against his walls, your thumb rubbing circles where you hold him at his waist.

When the tip of it bumps up against his prostate and starts vibrating? Sydney swears he sees heaven.

The effect that the toy has on him is immediate. As soon as you switched on the vibration function, all the breath was punched out of his chest. And the best thing was: It wasn't even on the highest setting yet.

“Ack! Too muh- hnn -much! No more!” Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he begs pitifully.

“You know the word to say to get me to stop Syd,” you say cupping his cheek gingerly. All he does is lean into your touch, nuzzling into your hand as if all he wants to do is to melt into you.  He cracks his eyes open, gazing at you with nothing but trust and adoration.

“Want me to keep going?” Your voice is impossibly tender and Sydney's heart pounds at the intimacy and affection of it all.

“Keep goin’, hah! Please!” He hears you laugh at his pleas and he doesn’t think he’s heard anything else more beautiful.

With his heightened sensitivity from all the previous rounds, it's not long before he's squirming, his mind melting into goo as the familiar heat within him is growing yet again. Instinctively, one of his hands shoots out and goes to find your unoccupied one, lacing your fingers together.

“Kiss me, p-please, please, ah! Needddd you!” Sydney's unintelligible babbling mixed with the whirring noises of the toy in him. Unshed tears glitter on his lower lashline, beautiful strawberry blond hair splayed out around him like some sort of divine angelic halo. How could you not want him, not need him?

Diving in for a kiss, he meets you halfway, his arms going to wrap around you tight as your lips crash together. He can’t believe he’s so lucky to be able to be yours. After holding back for so long, you’ve managed to coax out this side of him, introducing him to things he’s never even dared to want for. Perhaps, you truly were some sort of angel. One that, by chance, crash-landed into his life. One that’s loving enough to promise themselves to him, one that he can’t help but promise himself to.

“Hng! Love you! Looove y-you!” He all but slurs as he quickly approaches his peak. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, a string of unrestrained moans and muffled “Thank you! Love you!”s escape from your lover, punctuated by sharp hitches of airy gasps. It doesn’t take too long before his body is drawn taut as a bowstring, tongue lolling out from his mouth as he tips over the edge. As he rides out his high, Sydney grasps onto you like a lifeline, like he needs you to breathe. 

Turning the toy off, you let Sydney lay back down onto the bed before removing it from him and setting it aside. You give him a once over before smothering his face in kisses.

“You did really well, Syd,” a quick kiss pressed to his lips, “You with me? How’re you feeling?”

The hazy fog in his brain clears a bit and allows him to answer, “Mmm… Tired.” Lazily, he sits up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. You nudge a bottle of water into his hands, one which he very gratefully takes.

He downs half of the water, then bumps against your shoulder lightly, “You drink some too. Are you also feeling alright?” Sydney’s hand laces with yours.

“I’ll be better after a shower,” chuckling, you point at the terribly messy state of him, “and I think you could use one too.” Pulling him off the bed, you lead him to the bathroom for the both of you to wash up. (You definitely did not laugh when you saw how wobbly Sydney was on his legs after all that.)

Once dried off and the both of you are tucked into his bed, cuddling without leaving any space between you two, you see Sydney’s eyes threatening to close.

“Go to sleep, Syd, g’night.”

“Good night beloved,” a yawn, “Do you think we could beat our personal best we set today?”

“What?” Sydney’s question snaps you out of your drowsiness and you open your mouth to ask him how many rounds exactly he wants to try going for next time but it’s too late. He’s already snoring lightly against your shoulder.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[erinwantstowrite]

here's yet another reminder: if you ship any of the batfam together, and this INCLUDES PETER in LOF because he IS DICK'S SON. Which makes him FAMILY. you are not welcome to read LoF. I can't possibly block all of you but i can make sure you know that i think you're gross

[penaconys-radical-bellboy]

If your reqs are open: forceddeity?

When you're forced into being a deity in some way / transdeity by force, not by choice ^^!

FORCEDDEITY / FORCEDTRANSDEITY

--—★

A forcedID where somebody is forced to be a deity against their choice / their will , for whatever reason it may be !!

A forcedID where somebody is forced to be a transdeity against their choice / their will , for whatever reason it may be !!

--—★

Reopening my requests because I need stuff to do

Reblogs and archives are welcomed , encouraged and appreciated !!

Anybody can use my terms , even people on my DNI !! just be respectful <33

--—★

[hilacopter]

the amount of people who shut down any argument with "i ain't reading all that" or "shut up (insert problematic term here)" and think it makes them look intelligent and mature

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

girl i started following you for you mini fics? where they at???

bold as hell in my inbox this mornin.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x reader, established relationship, Fluff (maybe some NSFW)

Imagine Remmick and reader enjoying each other’s company while laying together. Soft kisses, nails lightly raking through hair, and soothing touches.

Perhaps teasingly reader lightly bites Remmick’s neck, since he always does this to reader they wanted some payback. Might or might not have known that it would rile him up.

(Would love to see some feral softness from Remmick if that makes sense lol)

Gender neutral pronouns please :)!

Have a great day/night!

P.s glad to see my request/asks are enjoyed! Love your work :D

Drunk on you||Remmick x GN!reader

Summary— reader and Remmick are obsessed with each other.

Word count-1180

Warnings-Explicit sexual content Mutual masturbation (gender neutral reader x male character) Bloodplay-adjacent themes (post-feeding cleanup, references to blood) Vampirism (turned!vampire reader) Established relationship Oral teasing and heavy kissing Soft domination tones (gentle aftercare, power dynamics rooted in emotional trust)Reader is described with fem anatomy Semi-public setting (clearing in the woods, but secluded)

A/n — this can be read as male,female and gender neutral.

A/n#2– oh yes anon I love it when you’re in my inbox!!!

The forest still thrummed faintly with the echoes of the hunt moonlight threading through the trees, the air rich with the scent of blood and pine. The adrenaline had faded, but a different kind of hunger lingered in its wake.

You leaned against a moss-covered boulder, cheeks flushed, laughter bubbling out of you in lazy bursts. The blood was still tacky at the corner of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You felt wild. Sated. In love.

Remmick watched you from a few paces away, one hand braced on his hip, the other dragging a cloth slowly over his jaw. There was something dangerous and stupidly tender in the way he looked at you like he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. Like the sight of you drunk on blood and moonlight knocked the wind out of him.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you teased, eyes half-lidded as you sauntered toward him, hips swaying lazily.

“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “Like you just remembered how much you love chaos.”

You laughed and slipped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. “No, not chaos. Just you.”

His breath caught as your lips brushed against his blood-slick and soft and your body pressed flush to his. “You made me. Isn’t that the same thing?”

He chuckled under his breath but didn’t let go, his hands settling on your waist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Drunk,” you corrected with a sleepy smile. “On you.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, tongue slipping against his with a faint metallic tang still lingering. He groaned into it, fingers tightening just enough to make you whimper.

Eventually, he pulled back. “Come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the old blanket spread near the fire he’d built. “You’re still a mess.”

You sat down without protest, your body humming, eyes glassy and soft. Remmick knelt in front of you with the cloth again, warm now with water from his flask.

His touch was almost reverent as he cleaned your blood from your jaw, your collarbone, the smear on your neck. You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

“You always do this,” you murmured. “Clean me up like I’m something precious.”

“Because you are,” he said simply, voice rough. “Because I remember what it was like right after I turned you. You were fire. You were fury. I didn’t know if I’d get you back.”

You cupped his face gently, thumb tracing over his lips. “But you did. I came back. I chose you.”

He kissed your palm, then your wrist, slow and deliberate.

The tension shifted between you then not urgent, not frenzied. Just heat and safety, blooming slow and low.

You pushed him gently back until he was sitting against the base of a tree, and you crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. The kiss that followed was softer, your fingers threading into his hair, hips rocking forward just enough to make you both gasp.

“Touch yourself,” you whispered against his mouth. “Wanna watch you.”

His eyes darkened. “Only if you do too.”

You nodded, lips parted as you reached between your legs, hiking your skirt just enough to slip your hand beneath. He did the same, dragging his belt loose with a soft groan, pants undone just far enough for his cock to spring free already hard, leaking at the tip.

You both moved slowly at first, hands buried beneath fabric, matching pace and rhythm. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the fire crackling nearby, the trees your only witnesses.

Watching each other, teasing touches, shared gasps there was something sacred in the act, something unspoken and deeply yours. His eyes never left yours as you rubbed lazy, wet circles over your clit, back arching, while his fist tightened around himself, hips stuttering.

You leaned your forehead to his, breath ragged. “Love you. So much it hurts.”

His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he rasped. “Always.”

You both came within seconds of each other soft cries swallowed in kisses, bodies trembling, breaths shallow and fast.

Afterward, you stayed curled up in his lap, limbs tangled, your cheek against his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy shapes over his chest.

“You gonna clean me up again?” you mumbled, half-asleep.

He huffed a laugh, already reaching for the cloth again. “Yeah, sweetheart. Always.”

[faithsmadhouse]

Into the Woods||Remmick x Fem!chubby!reader

MDNI+18

Summary—You’ve always been warned not to wander the woods at night, but temptation and curiosity pull you in deeper each time. You never realized you were being watched—or hunted. Remmick, the dark-eyed stranger with a Southern drawl and a wicked smile, has been stalking your midnight walks for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to make you his. And when he finally pounces, there’s no escaping the possessive grip of a predator who always gets what he wants.

Warnings—Dark Romance Dubcon / Noncon Elements Obsession / Possessive Behavior Stalker!Remmick Size Kink Rough Sex Outdoor Sex Against a Tree Overstimulation Marking (Biting, Bruising) Kidnapping Cabin in the Woods Power Play Dirty Talk Mild Bloodplay (Biting) Aftercare (Possessive and Twisted) Hurt/Comfort (Dark) Forced Proximity Slight Manipulation Innocence Corruption

A/N—THIS IS A DARK FIC READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

The moon hung heavy and full in the night sky, casting eerie silver light through the canopy of trees as you navigated the winding path. The leaves whispered under your boots, shadows stretching long and ominous. You pulled your coat tighter around you, breath fogging in the cool air.

You shouldn’t have been out this late. You knew that. Folks in town always spoke of the woods with hushed voices and wary glances, stories of shadows moving in the periphery, of eyes that gleamed in the dark. But you were stubborn—and perhaps a touch too bold for your own good.

The crack of a branch snapped you out of your thoughts, and you froze, heart stuttering in your chest. “Hello?” you called out, voice trembling just slightly. The woods answered with silence.

You swallowed hard, shaking off the chill that slipped down your spine, and kept walking. But the feeling of being watched only grew, prickling the back of your neck until you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder every few steps. Nothing. Always nothing.

Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling.

The path narrowed, leading you deeper, the moonlight flickering as the trees grew denser. You hurried your pace, each step crunching loudly, almost painfully loud. Your breath came quicker now, clouds of vapor puffing out as you moved faster, clutching your coat.

Something flickered in your peripheral vision—a shadow too quick to be caught. You whipped your head around, but there was only darkness.

A chuckle—soft, velvety—drifted from somewhere just beyond your sight. Your heart leaped into your throat. You spun around, eyes wide, searching the treeline. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Panic flared, and you abandoned caution altogether, breaking into a sprint. Your footsteps thundered against the forest floor, branches clawing at your coat and tangling in your hair. You didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t.

But you felt him.

The shadows grew thicker, deeper, and suddenly, the air felt colder, suffocating. Your breath came in ragged gasps, lungs burning as you ran. You weren’t sure where you were going—only that you had to get away.

It didn’t matter.

The force hit you from behind like a freight train, a blur of strength and shadows that sent you sprawling to the ground with a cry. Leaves scattered, dirt scraping against your palms as you fought to right yourself, but it was too late.

A hand—cold and strong—pressed between your shoulder blades, pinning you down effortlessly. Another curled around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a promise of control.

“Well, well,” came the voice, low and dripping with amusement. “Look what I’ve found wandering all alone.”

You shivered, squirming under his grip, but it only made him tighten his hold just a fraction. His chest pressed against your back, his breath fanning hot against your ear. “Do you know how long I’ve watched you?” he murmured, voice a rasp of want. “How long I’ve waited for this moment?”

“P-please…” you stammered, voice trembling. You didn’t even know what you were begging for—mercy, escape, something—but he only chuckled darkly.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he purred, nuzzling into the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Keep begging. I want to hear more.”

Your heart hammered against the forest floor, the damp earth cold and unforgiving beneath you. His weight pressed you down, unyielding, like he could pin you there for eternity if he wanted. You squirmed beneath him, fingers clawing at the dirt, but it only earned you a low, amused chuckle.

“There she goes,” he murmured, voice dripping with a Southern lilt, threaded with something darker, something old and Irish that curled around his words like smoke. “Like a lil’ rabbit, squirming ‘n thrashin’. Ain’t no use, darlin’. I’ve got you good ‘n proper now.”

“L-let me go,” you gasped, though the words came out pitifully soft. His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, his fingers pressed harder, almost affectionate as they trailed down the curve of your neck.

“Oh, now why would I do somethin’ foolish like that?” he drawled, the grin evident in his voice. “I been watchin’ you for weeks now… all soft curves ‘n pretty blushes. Walkin’ these woods without a care in the world.” He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you flinched at the sensation. “Should’ve known better, sweetheart.”

You shivered violently as his nose skimmed the side of your throat, inhaling deeply. He hummed, almost contentedly, like he’d found something he’d been craving. “Mmm… you smell like fear,” he cooed, his accent thickening with each word. “Sweet little thing, tremblin’ all pretty for me.”

The hand around your throat flexed, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. “You don’t even know who I am, do ya?”

You swallowed hard, the movement pressing your pulse against his palm. “N-no,” you whispered, hating how breathless you sounded.

“Name’s Remmick.” He practically purred it, his fingers trailing down the line of your spine with a slow, deliberate touch that made your skin prickle. “An’ I reckon you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve seen wanderin’ these woods in a long, long while.”

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled low, dark, the sound vibrating against your back. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Ain’t nobody told you ‘bout the monster lurkin’ out here?”

Monster. The word sank deep, chilling you to the bone. You tried to turn, to catch a glimpse of his face, but he pushed you down easily, pinning you flat. “Ah, ah,” he tsked, voice a dark melody. “Ain’t time for that yet. You’ll see me soon enough.”

His hands slipped lower, skimming the sides of your waist, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips. He made a pleased sound, almost like a growl, that had your cheeks flushing despite the situation. “Look at you… all lush ‘n ripe for the takin’. It’s like you were made for me.”

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head, but he only laughed, soft and indulgent.

“Oh, I think you are, sweetheart. Ain’t no one else out here… just you ‘n me.” His fingers tightened, pulling you back against him, and you felt the hard press of his body, unyielding and impossible to ignore. “Now… what should I do with my little rabbit, hmm?”

You whimpered, the sound slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Remmick hummed low, pleased. “There it is… knew you’d sound sweet beggin’. Might keep you beggin’ for a while yet.”

His lips ghosted over the side of your neck, sharp teeth just barely grazing your skin. “Maybe I oughta mark ya,” he mused, accent thickening to a lazy drawl. “Make sure you know just who you belong to now.”

His breath fanned hot and slow against your neck, the press of his body unyielding as he held you firm against the forest floor. The leaves beneath you were damp, the earth unforgiving, but Remmick didn’t seem to notice—or care. His fingers skimmed along your sides, mapping the soft curves with deliberate, unhurried attention.

“Look at you,” he cooed, his Southern drawl dripping with amusement, thickened by that lingering Irish lilt that curled around his words. “All flushed ‘n pretty… didn’t even have to try hard to catch ya.”

You squirmed under him, but it only made his grip tighten, a pleased rumble slipping from his chest. “Oh, darlin’… keep on wigglin’. Makes it all the more fun.”

His nose brushed the side of your throat, inhaling deeply, and you felt him shudder against you. “Sweet thing… you don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Remmick stilled, his grin spreading slow and sharp. “There it is,” he murmured, almost reverent. “Been dreamin’ of that sound. All them nights watchin’ you wander out here, actin’ like nothin’ dangerous could touch ya.”

“W-watchin’ me?” you stammered, breathless, and he chuckled low, the sound dripping with dark satisfaction.

“Every damn night,” he rasped, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Followin’ you through the trees… listenin’ to those soft little sighs when you think you’re alone.” His hands drifted lower, squeezing your hips with firm possession. “Know what I heard last week, sugar?”

You shook your head, breath coming in ragged bursts as his hands slid over the swell of your thighs, bunching your skirts in his fists. “Heard you whisperin’ to the trees,” he continued, voice a wicked purr. “Sayin’ you wished somethin’ would happen… somethin’ excitin’. Ain’t that right?”

Your cheeks burned, heart slamming against your ribs. “I… I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, but I did,” he drawled, that accent dripping like honey, thick and slow. “I meant every damn second of it.” His hands fisted in your skirts, dragging the fabric up over your thighs, exposing skin to the cool night air. You gasped, but Remmick only chuckled, low and pleased.

“Look at you… so soft ‘n sweet,” he whispered, almost to himself. His hands skimmed your bare skin, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs with greedy reverence. “Ain’t nobody touched you like this, have they?”

You tried to shake your head, but the words stuck in your throat, and Remmick hummed low, satisfied. “Didn’t think so. Ain’t nobody would’ve let you outta their sight if they had.” He leaned down, mouth brushing the back of your neck, and you shivered under the sensation. “Guess that makes you mine now, huh?”

His hands tightened, spreading your thighs with a deliberate slowness that had your breath stuttering. “Gonna take my time with you, darlin’,” he promised, voice thick with want. “Make you cry out my name ‘til the whole damn forest knows who you belong to.”

Your hands clenched against the dirt, eyes squeezing shut as his touch grew bolder, rough palms sliding up the inside of your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there. “Shh,” he crooned, his drawl a slow murmur. “Ain’t no need to be shy now… not when I’ve been waitin’ so long to have you.”

His fingers traced the edge of your underwear, nails scraping lightly, sending sparks up your spine. “Pretty lil’ thing… all soft ‘n mine for the takin’.” His teeth grazed your neck, sharper than they should’ve been, and you cried out softly.

“Mmm, that’s it… makin’ all them sweet sounds just for me.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down with agonizing slowness, cool air licking over exposed flesh. “Ain’t nobody gonna hear you out here, sweetheart,” he crooned. “So go on… let me hear it.”

The night wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, the cool air licking over your exposed skin as Remmick dragged your underwear down your thighs with agonizing slowness. His hands were rough and deliberate, fingertips grazing the softness of your flesh, mapping each dip and curve like he wanted to memorize it.

“There we go,” he cooed, his Southern drawl thickening with every word. “Knew you’d be pretty under all that. Soft ‘n sweet… like you were made just for me.”

You shivered beneath him, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his hands shot out, fingers digging into your thighs with enough force to make you gasp. “Now, now…” he murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted hot over your ear. “Ain’t no sense in hidin’ from me, darlin’. I wanna see all of you.”

Your cheeks burned, but his hands were unyielding, spreading your thighs apart with ease. The chill of the night bit at your skin, but the warmth of his body was scorching, a living furnace pressed tight against you. He hovered over you, gaze raking down the length of your body like he was savoring every inch.

“Look at you,” he whispered, almost reverent. “All spread out for me… all soft ‘n plush.” His hands roamed your hips, squeezing with greedy affection. “Ain’t nothin’ I love more than a woman with a little bit of softness,” he purred. “Somethin’ I can hold on to… somethin’ I can sink my teeth into.”

His teeth scraped the side of your neck, sharp and lingering, and you gasped, the sound high and breathless. He chuckled low, pleased. “There it is,” he drawled, hands sliding back up, rough palms caressing the swell of your hips. “Sweet lil’ sounds… you gonna keep makin’ those for me?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat when his fingers brushed over the slickness pooling between your thighs. Remmick went still, his breath catching. “Well, I’ll be damned…” he murmured, accent thick with satisfaction. “You’re soaked, darlin’. Were you hopin’ I’d catch you out here?”

“N-no,” you stammered, shaking your head, but he only chuckled, low and dark.

“Lyin’ ain’t gonna do you no good out here,” he crooned, circling his fingers with deliberate slowness, teasing you until your hips arched against him involuntarily. “Mmm, that’s it… go on. Show me how much you want it.”

His touch grew bolder, fingers slipping through your slick folds with practiced ease. “So wet for me… look at you, sugar. Drippin’ like you were just waitin’ for me to find you.”

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Remmick hummed in approval. “Gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart,” he promised, leaning down to nip at the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Right here… out in the open where anybody could see. Ain’t that somethin’?”

His fingers slipped inside, stretching you slowly, possessively, and you bit back a gasp. Remmick groaned low in his throat, like the feel of you was too much, too good. “Hell… you’re tight,” he rasped, voice thick with want. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else, darlin’. Make sure you remember just who made you feel this way.”

He pumped his fingers slow and deliberate, curling just right to have your back arching off the ground. “That’s it, pretty girl… let me hear you,” he crooned, his accent like velvet and whiskey, smooth and intoxicating. “Ain’t nobody else around… just you ‘n me. Let it out.”

You couldn’t help the moan that slipped free, and his grin widened, sharp and hungry. “Good girl… knew you’d sound pretty when you broke.”

His pace quickened, fingers curling deeper, thumb brushing over that aching bundle of nerves until your legs shook beneath him. He watched you the whole time, gaze fixed on every twitch, every gasp, like he was savoring the way you unraveled for him.

“You gonna come for me, darlin’?” he whispered, voice low and dripping with want. “Right here in the dirt… with my hands buried inside ya? C’mon now… show me.”

His fingers worked you open with a deliberate pace, dragging out every slick sound and whimper that spilled from your lips. Remmick’s grin only widened, sharp and predatory, as he watched you writhe beneath him, your body reacting to every curl of his fingers.

“There we go,” he crooned, accent thickening with every whisper. “Such a good girl for me… takin’ what I give you like you were made for it.” His thumb circled your clit with just enough pressure to have your back arching off the forest floor, a breathless cry slipping from your mouth.

His hand was unyielding, fingers stretching you open as his thumb continued its slow, torturous rhythm. “You like that?” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Bet you ain’t ever been touched like this before… all soft ‘n perfect, drippin’ down my hand.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, every nerve lit up with fire as his hand worked you closer and closer to the edge. His voice stayed low and soft, whispering dark promises against your skin. “Gonna make you come, darlin’… right here with your thighs spread wide for me.”

His fingers curled just right, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, and your hands flew to grasp at the leaves and dirt beneath you, nails digging into the earth. “That’s it,” he praised, his breath hot against your neck. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Let me feel you clenchin’ around my fingers?”

You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as the pressure built, white-hot and unrelenting. Remmick’s grin turned wicked, and he pressed his lips to the side of your throat, sharp teeth grazing the skin there. “Let go,” he whispered, voice dripping with command. “Come for me.”

The words snapped something inside you, the coil of tension unraveling with a rush of heat and pleasure that left you gasping. Your body clenched around his fingers, thighs trembling as he worked you through it, his touch never faltering. “That’s it,” he drawled, almost proud. “Knew you’d be pretty when you came.”

Your body sagged against the ground, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But Remmick wasn’t done. Not even close. He pulled his hand away, and you shivered as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. “Sweet as honey,” he praised, voice husky. “Reckon I might have to taste you proper next time.”

You barely had a chance to recover before his hands were on you again, dragging you up from the ground and into his lap. His strength was effortless, like you weighed nothing at all, and before you could blink, you were straddling him, your skirts bunched around your hips.

He leaned back against the trunk of a tree, hands gripping your thighs possessively. “Ain’t done with you yet, darlin’,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “Not by a long shot.” His hands skimmed up your sides, curling around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The hard press of him against your core made your breath hitch, and he grinned, sharp and dangerous.

“You feel that?” he purred, grinding up against you with slow, deliberate movements. “That’s what you did to me… runnin’ around all soft ‘n sweet like you were beggin’ me to catch you.”

His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight as he rolled his own, dragging you against him again and again, the friction sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “Think you’re ready to take me, sugar?” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “Think you can handle it?”

The forest was silent around you, shadows stretching long and unyielding as Remmick cradled you against him, his breath still coming in ragged bursts. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, grounding you even as your mind swirled with the aftermath of what just happened. You should have been terrified—should have run the second his grip loosened—but your body stayed pliant and soft against his, boneless in his arms.

Remmick’s hands smoothed over your back, large and warm, palms pressing possessively against your spine. “Did so good for me, darlin’,” he murmured, voice softening to a honeyed drawl. His lips brushed your temple, almost reverent. “Knew you were meant to be mine… knew it the moment I saw you.”

You swallowed hard, head spinning, but the words wouldn’t come. How could you respond? How could you even breathe when he was still pressed so close, body solid and unyielding, keeping you right where he wanted you?

But Remmick didn’t seem to mind your silence. If anything, it pleased him, the soft hum of satisfaction rumbling through his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine, almost affectionate. “Gonna take you somewhere safe now,” he whispered, voice low and conspiratorial, like you were sharing a secret. “Somewhere they can’t find you.”

You stiffened instinctively, but his hands only tightened, pressing you closer until the hard bark of the tree bit into your back. “Ah, ah… none of that now,” he chided gently, his Irish lilt curling around the words. “Ain’t no sense in runnin’. I’d only catch you again.”

His eyes met yours then, pale and burning with something you couldn’t name. Obsession, maybe. Possession. It sat heavy in his gaze, pinning you in place as his hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your lips. “You’re mine now, sugar,” he murmured, the promise thick and unyielding. “Gonna keep you all for myself.”

Before you could so much as blink, he scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing at all. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, but his grip was firm and steady, unyielding as he strode through the shadows of the forest.

“W-where are you taking me?” you managed, voice trembling.

His grin spread slow and wicked, eyes glimmering with dark satisfaction. “Home, darlin’,” he drawled. “Gonna take you back to my place… keep you tucked away where nobody else can touch you.”

Your heart stuttered, panic clawing at the edges of your mind. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can,” he interrupted smoothly, not even breaking stride. “And I will.” His gaze dropped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Ain’t nobody gonna take you from me, sugar. Not now, not ever.”

The trees thickened around you, shadows stretching long and twisted as he carried you deeper into the woods. His arms were unyielding, every step purposeful, like he’d walked this path a thousand times before. You tried to memorize the way, counting the turns and bends, but it all blurred together, the darkness swallowing each landmark whole.

And then you saw it. Hidden among the thick branches and creeping ivy was a cabin—dark and looming, half-consumed by nature. Its windows were covered, shadows shifting behind the glass, and the door stood slightly ajar, like it had been waiting.

“There we are,” Remmick crooned, voice thick with satisfaction. “Home sweet home.”

He nudged the door open with his boot, carrying you inside with practiced ease. The air was heavy, scented with cedar and smoke, and the low flicker of candlelight bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. It was almost… cozy. But there was something lurking just beneath the surface—something dark and possessive, clinging to the shadows like an unwelcome guest.

Remmick set you down gently, hands never leaving your waist as he guided you toward the center of the room. His gaze flickered over you, lingering on your swollen lips, the marks on your neck, the bruises his hands left on your hips. He grinned, pleased. “You look real good like that, darlin’,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “All marked up and mine.”

You shivered under his touch, the weight of his stare making it impossible to think clearly. “Remmick… I…”

“Hush now,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your temple. “Ain’t no need for talkin’. We got all the time in the world now.”

[camellcat]

for that other anon, if they haven’t read it yet i recommend body language by explosionshark on ao3

I hope you see this other anon, bc I've a been sent a message for you. makes me feel a bit like a carrier pigeon or some such. you lot trading little letters through my inbox. smut, no less. it's not even my thing but y'know it looks really good! I read a little bit of it I think you shall like it fuffy anon. fuffy girlies in general. if my opinions matters at all. for I am only the messenger, of course

[lemedstudent2021]

Are you in a Muslim country or are you just Muslim in a not predominantly Muslim country

muslim in a predominantly muslim country (jordan) :D!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I understand her saying she was in a bad place after Joe but I think her saying MH was manic phase was AFTER the fact that he ghosted her. Down Bad she states I was in love. I believe she truly was in love with him, not thinking she was. I am not a MH fan by no means but I truly believe she loved him. She couldn't even say the word over in her song. I know he ghosted her, but it was her CHOICE to be with him. No one forced her hand. She knew the type of person he was, but she chose him anyway. She could have said get lost. I respect her and whatever or whoever she chose to love.

Friend:

In her own words, she did not truly love him. She was infatuated with him and was experiencing a severe mental health crisis over many things and convinced herself she was in love with him because it was the only way she could bring herself to burn the bridge for good with with her LTR.

yes, you’re right that she said it was a manic phase after he ghosted her. I don’t see that as controversial or in opposition to what you’ve stated. Because the thing about manic phases is that you often don’t realize you’re in them until you crash (and/or hit the depressive part of the cycle). When you’re in the manic part, everything feels heightened and logical in your own head and it’s not until you come down from it that you realize what it was. So the crash happened by her own admission after he ghosted her and the apex of the phase crumbled. And once that happened* and the dust settled she saw it for what it was, both in herself and in what he’d done. (E.g. that she was manic and that he’d been playing her.) That isn’t projection, that is in her own words in the poem and in her music.

so yes, she chose to be with him. I’m not denying that. She’s not denying that. She doesn’t need some internet stranger to defend her actions and I’m certainly not. But nothing exists in a vacuum and I don’t know how many times we can rehash this.

She chose to be with him knowing who he was, yes. Personally, I think he’s vile, and i wouldn’t go near the guy with a ten foot pole. But it’s not my life. And again: in her own words, he told her that he’d changed and would change and love bombed her into believing he was a new person. Is that naive? Yes, obviously. But I also am of the belief, again through Taylor’s own words, that she was deeply, deeply unwell and suffering from a host of emotional, physical and mental health struggles and wasn’t acting with the clearest of minds. I cannot underscore enough that TTPD is a study in the effects of grief and how it can cloud your mind and inform your actions and I don’t know any other way to explain it that doesn't cross lines but iykyk. If TTPD is to be believed, even within it the cracks were starting to form in the facade before he left her.

If you feel she was truly in love with him, then go ahead, because at this point I am not going to convince you otherwise and that’s fine, you’re allowed to interpret events through your own lens and make your own judgment calls. Just like you aren’t going to convince me that it was a grand love affair because personally I think it was an unfortunate confluence of timing and opportunity that coalesced into a total shit sandwich and I interpret her words and actions through an entirely different lens. I am not trying to be snarky or mean, I’m just saying that this isn’t going to be a fruitful discussion because we’re coming at this from a different set of beliefs and experiences.

(and if you’re talking about the “over” in down bad: she can’t bring herself to say it because she’s a) performing the song and b) using that for effect in the storytelling. She doesn’t say it because it is meant to cut directly into the next line. It’s songwriting.)

this is not a conversation I am interested in hosting on this blog so I will not be responding to this further.

[bastardofharrenhal]

can you draw alicent hightower please please please

personally if i had a wife w big brown gorgeous eyes i would do whatever she wants too

rqs r open on this blog and art sideblog @snoozingfae✨