faramurr

[faramurr]

I need sex so soft and so healing. sweet, slow, all-devouring sex that leaves me so empty headed and so full hearted. completely consumed with each other type sex. fused tight together. clinging to one another. soft giggles, hitched breaths, mindless nibbling, starved kisses…

[faramurr]

anyone else wish they would get roped into a freaky friday body swap situation just for the hope that the other person will go "oh jesus fuck how do you live like this" and instantly validate your feelings of being Strange and Built Wrong.

[faramurr]

[faramurr]

Miromabby in a nutshell

[faramurr]

Generations of locking the fuck in.

[faramurr]

No es realmente de fnafhs pero m.e gusto ok.ay

[faramurr]

face card so hard and body so tea even the british want it

[faramurr]

soft, tender shoulder kisses while they fuck you into the mattress in prone bone 🫩

[faramurr]

hey sorry i said those weird and pathetic things. do you still think i’m mysterious and alluring

[faramurr]

Fanfic is a free hobby.

It's one of the last few things we can have as a society that's free. You can engage, for free. People give you things (art, stories, etc), for free.

Don't buy into the consummerism just because it's everywhere else.

You don't have to consume everything you interact with. You don't have to use things, just because they exist.

You're allowed (still, for now), to have things that are enjoyable for free.

Do you realise how insane the world is? We don't have many places where we can just be, for free anymore, but ao3 is. Did you notice we don't have ads in ao3? We don't have pop ups? Where ELSE do we not have that?

Where else can you just go and not have to wait for a commercial to be over or for ads to be on the sidelines?

I don't think the younger people understand, but the whole of internet used to be like this. YouTubers would do Youtube for free, just because. You couldn't monetise your internet presence before.

Ao3 is like a little preserved corner of the internet where the old internet used to be, and it's being attacked by people who do not understand that free things are allowed to exist without judgment.

Please don't ruin this for us.

Some of us need it.

[faramurr]

No notes, injecting this into my bloodstream <33

You’re not his pet anymore. He’s yours.

gender neutral + toxic reader x traumatized whitney

post underground brothel scenario, roughly 1.2k words! no NSFW + canon typical mentions of rape/violence

Whitney isn’t the same anymore. He hasn’t been since the day he’d been thrown into that van, sobbing and struggling against a man far bigger than both of you, to pay for what he had tried to do to you.

You don’t know what happened to him in the underground brothel, but you know it couldn’t have been good. That’s why you helped him, after all. Because he was suffering and you have a conscience, right? Because even bad people don’t deserve something like that, to be pawned off to even worse people for scraps of cash, right?

That must be right. You aren’t a bad person.

You brush a lock of hair away from his pale face and feel the way he flinches with his whole body, the tremor jolting your lap where his head is warily resting. His eyes are red around rims — they often are nowadays, like he can’t bring himself to sleep or stop crying — and his cheeks are a little sunken. They didn’t feed him much down there, you guess. He probably didn’t have an appetite to begin with.

You’ve tried to get him to try broth to put some weight back on his bones, since solid meat is out of the question, but he just coughed it up, sobbed, apologized for the mess. Then he tried to lick it off your lap.

Whenever he begs for your forgiveness like that, your heart twists up in your chest. The poor thing. He’s so scared, so pathetic, and the only thing in the world he can rely on is you. And he hated you so much before, enough to want you dead. Now you’re his savior and all he can do is kiss the ground you walk on, and pray you don’t leave him behind.

Your lips tremble up into a smile but you force it back down before he can see. There’s a sort of satisfaction in his fall from grace. Or there would be, if you were a bad person. You pet his hair as a silent apology.

Still, you can't waste the day away doing nothing but reminiscing. It’s almost noon on a Saturday. You’re sacrificing time and money just to take care of this pitiful creature you’ve taken responsibility for. You keep your voice soft and low, like he’s an animal you don’t want to scare away, and you speak to him. “Whitney,” you murmur and he jumps like he’s frightened anyways. “Is there anything you’d like to do today?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes dart up and run over your face like he’s gauging what your mood is, what the best response is going to be. They’re still a pretty shade of blue but they’re always glazed over nowadays.

He seems to realize you’re actually asking for a response and not just creating an opportunity to wedge something between his lips. Or making up an excuse to hit him. “I…” His shoulders tense before his head tilts on your lap, lifeless. “…There’s nothing. Sorry. Thanks.”

Sorry, thank you is his mantra recently. If he’s hungry, tired, needs to use the bathroom or speaks aloud, even, it tumbles from his mouth. Sorry for existing. Thank you for dealing with me. He’s so cute it’s almost painful.

“There’s really nothing?” You ask, cupping his cheek. His whole body freezes and you relish it, the stiffness of his neck and shoulders pressing into you and you have control, even if you would never abuse it. Not like he would’ve done to you before. “We can go on a walk. The cafe by the beach is open now, and it’s got a pretty view of the water. Or we can visit the docks. You used to like watching the ships come in, didn’t you?”

He shivers. It’s a little tremor, starting at his fingertips, and he can’t quite repress it. “N-No, thank you. I don’t… I-I want to stay here. With you.” His voice cracks and his cheeks color. It’s progress that he’s asserting his own will but he’s embarrassed. Even when he’s been so thoroughly broken he still finds the idea of begging you repugnant. That, too, is adorable.

You keep pushing him. “Really? It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to me.” You lean over him, and your hair brushes your cheeks. The shadow it casts feels like a curtain separating the two of you from the rest of the world. “We can do whatever you like.”

“There isn’t…” he croaks. He looks nervous now. Like he’s picking the wrong answer. He’s waiting for a punishment, or to be forced onto your mattress. You wonder what other sorts of things they did to him there. The tense winding of his body tells you he’s ready to escape, although it’s been beaten into him not to try.

You lean down even further. His heart is thumping so hard that his pulse is visible through his skin, the twitching on his neck fascinating to witness. Your fingers caress his skin — it’s clammy yet soft from where you’ve been taking care of him. “I know,” you say. You fake having a light bulb moment, as if this wasn’t your intention all along. Your eyes meet. “Why don’t we go visit your friends? I think they still miss you.”

You don’t just think that’s the case. You know it. The missing poster you've ripped from the wall at school and plastered above your own bed is evidence. They’ll never know he’s here with you. Yours.

That soft comment is enough to push him over, to make him jolt upright, almost knocking your foreheads together. He doesn’t outright grab your shoulders but he knocks you to the bed, leans over your body and cages you with his arms. His eyes are wide and desperate. Before his kidnapping, he always looked so flawlessly put together. Wild, but calculatedly so. Now his hair sticks up in every direction even though you brush it every morning and night. “No!” He pleads. If anyone were next door, they’d have heard it. “Don’t you fucking dare! I don’t want — nobody, nobody can see me like…”

Like this. All fucked up and broken. Whitney catches a glance of himself in the reflection of your eyes and all of the color drains from his already pale face.

Instantly, what he’s done catches up to him. He recoils so severely that he falls backwards off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud. You stay in place and merely listen as he begs for your forgiveness. Fuck, I’m sorry — no, I didn’t mean to — please, don’t do it, it was an accident — I won’t touch you again just don’t make me do it I don’t want to do it anymore, I’m sorry — !

You can't help it. Laying back where he’d tackled you over, you lock eyes with the bright eyed Whitney on the poster hanging on your wall. And a big smile breaks out across your face.

Because, maybe just a little bit, you’re a bad person.

[faramurr]

Unfinished writing I started months ago, but didn't get around to finishing because my partner at the time said it wasn't good 😭

I don't wanna let it rot in my notes app, might pick it back up..

It was embarrassing how easily he could be riled up in his old age.

Years ago, his self control was practically steel, strong and firm and unwavering.

But it hadn't taken much for his resolve to crumble when he finally glanced over the fence.

Now he stood, clothing soaked in the water as he wetted his cock for the first time in what felt like years. His large hands gripped the fat of his pretty neighbors thighs, spreading her open as every thrust sent the water up into the air around them.

Her bikini top was doing her absolutely zero favors as the fabric barely kept her in place, the quick movements nudging it lower and lower until the pink of her nipples were peeking from the top.

Not like he minded, he just hadn't expected to be seeing tits at 2pm on a Sunday.

Nails gripped into his shoulders, crescent moon shapes indented into the skin as she searched for purchase while he fucked into her. Her hair was half soaked as her head rolled back, ponytail on its last limbs as the hair tie wiggled out of its place and dipped into the pool water.

A choked curse escaped her as the lewd sound of skin against skin rang in her backyard, prompting a groan from him in response.

She'd tricked him into coming here, luring him with her whimpers and mewls of discontent as she'd tried (and failed) to fuck herself to orgasm fifteen minutes prior.

He'd only come outside to grab the mail, interest peaking as a desperate gasp reached his ears. Curious eyes peeking over the fence widened in shock at the sight of her fingers wrapped around the base of a rather large dildo, driving it into her core with reckless abandon.

He thought she looked rather slutty, pornstar-esque, splayed out on a towel on the grass with her legs shaking every time the tip hit it's limit inside her.

The sight sent warmth straight to his groin, the feeling unfamiliar much to his surprise.

He was older, no partner to speak of unless his ex-wife of ten years counted. Really, he hadn't thought about sex in ages.

Now he was standing at the edge of the fence, rock-hard, staring down the exposed cunt of his relatively new neighbor.

The feeling of eyes on him made him shiver.

To his absolute horror, they suddenly met eyes, her half lidded hazy gaze staring at him from across the yard as she lazily pumped the toy inside of her pussy.

He was ready to explain himself, face bright red and heart pounding from being caught as he thought of a million different ways to avoid being painted as a "peeping-tom" during neighborhood gossip.

But she didn't scream, fuss, or even stop as she eyed him down. A wide grin spread across her face, moaning just little louder as if putting on a show that was meant to draw him in from the beginning.

[faramurr]

tumblr is for putting your stuff somewhere that's not secret but also not for anyone particular to see so it's true neutral in a really nice way

[faramurr]

Reached level 100 affinity with Rafayel today! Time to celebrate with bridal boudoir shots of miss bodygua-- er, miss wife

[faramurr]

I hate when a tiny stupid thing pushes you over the edge and makes you freak the fuck out because it makes you look like a completely irrational tar pit of a human being. Like no I promise this is warranted just maybe not about that specifically I swear I'm well adjusted. Come closer stick your fingers in my cage

[faramurr]

nothign wrong with me that an orgasm a glass of orange juice another orgasm tweleve hours of sleep another orgasm a fuckload of pasta another orgasm a hot bath anothe roorgasm a bullet to the head another orgasm taking up smoking anpther orgasm a large alcolgic beveerage and aother orgams wont fix

[faramurr]

i'm sorry i don't know what came inside me. came into me. came over me. sorry.