#I only know that it's a fucking lot of work and takes a lot of time & effort

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[justauthoring]

a promise he'll keep.

requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room

a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!

tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence

pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav

blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.

armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.

long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.

your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.

it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.

you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.

but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.

painfully.

"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"

you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.

astarion's face falls.

taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.

his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.

your eyes flutter shut in response.

"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."

you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."

astarion hates the way your voice trembles.

"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."

and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."

"i'm okay," you try to deny.

astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."

your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.

the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.

"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."

your hand grabs his, squeezing.

"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."

he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.

"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"

and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.

astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.

"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."

you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.

and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.

[rafescurtainbangz]

Frat Rafe Headcanons +18 Minor DNI

Ask: @babygorewhore Baby I need more frat rafe headcannons please feed me mommy

Sorry this took me so long, babe. Thank you so much for your ask Also, if you haven't, please read @xxbimbobunnyxx frat carwash blurb you should because it’s so cute. Those carwash videos make me blush for reallll. And I swear I'll be dropping some pervfrat!rafe part 2 soonish

Also I dropped fic yesterday and didn't tag people 😭 here

unedited

Pet names, unprotected p in v, mentions of oral sex, public sex, choking, jealousy, ownership kink, perv Rafe, recording sex, possessive, mentions of fighting, degradation

Meeting Him…

Frat Rafe - Who first noticed you from across the lecture hall. Luckily for him, you were sitting next to a pledge who quickly switched seats the second Rafe gave him a hard look. He didn't say a whole lot at first, chuckling to himself as he watched a little blush creep across the apples of your cheeks when he spread his thighs slightly brushing his knee against yours.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't take his eyes off of you through the soapy glass at the Fraternity Car Wash. You shamelessly recorded the show, giggling and smiling as he and his brothers washed cars between slow grinds and finger-drawn hearts. A very wet Rafe Cameron somehow made it through the car window, his tall frame barely fitting inside the cab as he continued to work for your cash. He danced to the music blaring through the speakers, smiling cheekily as you tucked a few extra dollars in his short red trunks.

Frat Rafe - Who waved you down before you could pull out of the lot, jogging up to your freshly cleaned car, asking you to come out to the bar that night.

Frat Rafe - Who sent three back-to-back text messages before you could pull away, the third making your mouth fall open. You looked through the window, watching Rafe chuckle and smirk, pretty proud of himself at the reaction that he got from you and the smile you couldn't take off your lips.

Frat Rafe - Who you fucked after the first date. You couldn't stop thinking about him after the carwash, his tanned, toned skin glistening in the sun. It was unclear just how many times you watched that fucking video, but it was a lot. You couldn't wait to get your hands on him. Rafe Cameron lived up to every one of the rumors. The sex was amazing, the best you ever had, rough and slow, fast when you needed it. His long thick cock filled you deliciously. It seemed like he was always one step ahead of you; like he knew what you wanted before you even asked. His beautiful blue eyes were always on you, hazed with sex. His soft lips and tongue pleased you again and again ‘til you were a babbling mess.

Dating Frat!Rafe…

Frat Rafe - Who’s affectionate and gentle with you. Only you get to see that side of him, Rafe, reserving all his sweetness for you.

Frat Rafe - Who loves to wrap his strong arm around your neck in doggy, tugging you as close as possible, ‘til you're begging him to let you cum.

Frat Rafe - Who went absolutely crazy the first time you called him daddy. The petname quickly became his favorite.

Frat Rafe - Who loves to brag about you to his frat brothers, especially when he's drunk. The blonde, quick to remind them how much better you are than the girls they are hitting on to the point where it's downright rude. You’ll scold his tipsy ass, and he’ll sass you as he continues to dog his friend until you have no choice but to smash your lips against his and steal the words off his lips.

Frat Rafe - Who sent you this message just a few days after you started talking:

Little did you know how much it was on his mind. He hated that you weren't official. A much as Rafe wanted you to belong to him, he wanted to belong to you.

Frat Rafe - Who asked you out that night ‘cause he couldn't wait any longer.

Frat Rafe - Who loves sneaking away with you at parties. Sure, he loves showing you off, but his favorite thing to do is chill in his truck, listening to music while the two of you share a joint and talk.

Frat Rafe - Who would rather spend every night at your place than the frat house because he can actually relax. Some nights you go to sleep alone and wake up with Rafe’s strong body hugging you from behind after he let himself in with the key you had cut just for him. He couldn't sleep and needed you.

Frat Rafe - Who lives in weathered fraternity t-shirts and snapbacks if he's not rocking a crisp polo. At any function, Rafe’s hat usually ends up on your head, one way or another, left on from time to time when you suck him off or ride his cock.

Frat Rafe - Who doesn't trust any of his frat brothers around you but Top. If you’re coming over to hang out he's meeting you out at your car to walk you in. If you're at a party his hand is in yours, resting on your back, draped over your shoulder, or wrapped around your waist. He loves the contact just as much as he loves keeping you safe.

Frat Rafe - Who texts you cute/horny shit when he's drunk and you're away.

He often questions how he got so lucky or why are you dating me again? Rafe knows you love him, he just loves hearing it. His frat brothers also know when you're gone for the weekend because Rafe turns into an absolute dick, bitching about everything until you're back.

Frat Rafe - Who doesn't care if people can hear the two of you having sex in fact he loves it. Rafe coaches you through each orgasm, trying hard to get you screaming for him.

"C'mon, princess... Let these boys hear how good daddy’s givin’ it to you."

"Shh... Baby, I'd hate for all these guys to hear what a filthy fuckin’ slut you are f’me."

“Bet he didn't think I was fuckin’ you right. What do you think he thinkin’ now huh?”

He also loves watching you walk back into the party all flushed and wobbly knowing that he was the reason you were weak in the knees. Rafe loves to mark you with love bites, and hand prints, dark hickies on your cleavage that peek out of your low-cut dress, pairing beautifully with the sparkly little R pendant around your neck.

Frat Rafe - Who dedicates every Wednesday night for date night and will never let a frat meeting or function interfere.

Frat Rafe - Who’s a surprisingly good dancer. He’ll only dance at the bar if he's wasted, but when he does, your ass is pressed up against him with his strong hands clutching your hips. It doesn't take long until you’re dress is bunched up around your waist, panties pushed to the side, with Rafe’s pants in a puddle around his ankles as he fills you up in the dingy bar bathroom. On the other hand, if you’re at the frat house, it only takes a song or two until your bent over the bathroom sink or pressed up against the hallway wall.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't wait for Spring Break. Each drunken day was spent at the beach with his frat brothers and your friends - each night, a different bar. But Rafe made sure you still had some moments alone whether it be to take you shopping, share a beer, or watch the sunset.

Frat Rafe - Who got rid of his dirt bike and bought a motorcycle instead. Of course, making sure he bought a helmet for you so he could bring you to class or for a cruise around campus.

Frat Rafe - Who fell in love with you all over again when you made him a beer poster with yourself as the model. You had no idea how much he loved it until you showed up to the next frat party and saw it framed on the wall.

Frat Rafe - Who’s gotten in trouble with the law a few times for fighting. Rafe, no stranger to a fight on account of you when someone tries to start shit or gets handsy. He never ends up making it to jail, usually talking or paying his way out of it.

Frat Rafe - Who knows your class schedule like the back of his hand. Whenever he's at the library he’ll text you and ask if you need a study break which is code for stuffing you full of his cock in study room D.

Frat Rafe - Who jealously gets the better of him, and when he pisses you off, all it takes is a flirty smile and a wave at one of his frat brothers or a hockey player to set him off. The rest of the night consists of rough, possessive sex, and punishment which somehow turns into sweet, slow passionate sex where's he's mumbling I love you’s and I’m sorry’s between deep strokes and kisses.

Frat Rafe - Who loves it when you wear his clothes, especially his oversized frat t-shirts paired with your cute little panties.

Frat Rafe - Who sends you gym selfies because he knows how crazy they make you, especially post-workout shots.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't keep his hands or eyes off you at the frat formal. It was hard not to think about the future when you looked so pretty in your white sparkly dress.

Frat Rafe - Who’s fiercely loyal. You never need to worry about other girls around him, but the sight of it still makes you jealous. Rafe is quick to assure you you're all he wants and needs.

Frat Rafe - Who has a thing for your panties. The lacey and prettier the better; wrapped around the shift of his truck, looped over the hand of his bedroom door, the rung of his bedpost, anywhere and everywhere. He loves to wrap them around the base of his cock when you ride him or knot them around your wrists when he ties you to his headboard. But his eyes roll back in his skull when you stuff them in his mouth because he loves how you taste.

Frat!Rafe - Who loves recording the two of you having sex and frequently snaps pictures of you just ‘cause.

Frat!Rafe - Who won't just send you dick pics when you ask, but videos with the sounds on, usually moaning your name until he’s spilling onto his hand, using the pictures or videos the two of you took as porn.

Frat!Rafe - Who had to change his lock screen when you took him home for the holidays because it was a picture of you in his favorite lingerie.

Frat!Rafe - Who has pictures of you everywhere and he doesn't care who sees because don’t you wish you had a girl like mine.

Masterlist

Pictures and texts from Pinterest

Tags: @voyeurmunson @romaescapes @gri959 @redhead1180 @h34rtsformilli @joannamuns9n @waywardsoul113 @marahgubler @akashababy @dckweed @humanvampire13 @drewstarkeyslut @juniebugg @wearemadeofstardust0 @imbabycowboy @rafesgiirl @obxbabies @cutielando @rafedrewandjjs @rafesthroatbaby @999ares9996 @oxpogues4lifexo @dilfswife @Dilfswife @chiaraanatra @ietss @drewswifeeee @theoraekenslover @niyahnotnia

[fuckaperioddrama]

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

Warnings: Toxic!Draco | Bullying | Mentions of Rough Sex, BDSM, Choking, Worship/Praise Kink | Oral (F Receiving) | Mentions of Drugs and Alcohol | Let me know if I missed something.

Fem!Reader

Author's Note: I've got a love-hate relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Proofread, but might have mistakes.

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcanons

Blaise Zabini Headcanons

Tom Riddle Headcanons

Masterlist

Minors DNI | 18+

Draco Malfoy | Physique

5’11 | I don’t see him as being super tall.

Draco is more on the lanky side.

Working out? Physical labor? Absolutely not. | He plays quidditch for the attention. Genuinely hates sweating like ew. 

Resting bitch face. THE WORST resting bitch face. He looks like such a bitch, I can’t stress this enough. 

SO UNAPPROACHABLE 

But he is really pretty. | I know I say this for pretty much all of them, but that’s how you HAVE to describe Draco

Draco is pretty and no one can argue with me on this. 

Draco Malfoy | Personality

Dick

Genuinely awful to almost everyone

He’s a powerful person and he likes to let that be known. Always looks down on people who don’t share his status

He and Lorenzo have that same frustrating energy in very similar ways. 

Lorenzo is frustrating because he tries to pretend he’s not actually the worst.

Draco is frustrating because he just has so much audacity

“Hey, nice shirt.”

“Oh, thanks! I actu-”

“I’m kidding, that’s the ugliest fucking shirt I’ve seen in my entire life. Did you actually think I was serious? Where did you get that? The dump? Merlin, you look AWFUL! I can’t believe you left the house looking like th-”

| Regina George energy |

Was that necessary? No, but Draco doesn’t care. He hurt your feelings? OH WELL

He WILL laugh in the face of anyone who cries in front of him because why are you acting so pitiful?

Sure he just pointed out your deepest and most shameful insecurity, but geez pull yourself together.

He likes to remind everyone that no matter how hard they try they will never be him.

Because he’s Draco mother fucking Malfoy. | Duh.

FLAUNTS

Doesn’t know what humble means. If has it, he’s displaying it it.

Projects his insecurities onto others.

He treats others so poorly because that's how he treats himself. He is his own worst critic and he feels a lot of pressure from other influences in his life too.

Uptight. High Standards that everyone must meet.

Draco can still loosen upthough. He enjoys a good party.

Prefers to host so that he can control the guest list.

Whenever he doesn’t host he’ll complain the whole time because that guy would have never been let into one of his parties.

Draco smokes and drinks but it’s 50/50 on how messed up he gets

If he’s out with just Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo then he’s pretty sober because who knows what he’ll get into with those three.

If Tom or Blaise are there then he’ll go a little crazy because he knows those two won’t let anything too bad happen. | Mostly Blaise. Tom will only intervene if it’s for his benefit.

Draco Malfoy | Casanova

Draco is someone else I can see who targets other people's girlfriends

Whereas Theo does it only if their boyfriend pissed him off, Draco does it merely because he can.

Generally, Draco is very dominant in a toxic Alpha Male kinda way

He likes to go all out. Takes them on dates, wine and dine, fanciest restaurants, fanciest cars, just the whole nine.

He doesn't want them to talk much unless it’s to compliment him. He’s not so much doing the grand gestures to impress women. He’s mainly doing it to flex on other men.

He still cares in some way though because uhh

After the date, he takes them back to his room, and AHH

SO GOOD

He thrives off of pleasing his partner. If he can make a girl scream his name even ONCE he is walking around the next day like he is a GOD. | More so than usual.

Loves giving and he would never tell anyone to do this, but if you throw in some praise? One crumb of praise?? FERAL

He goes into overdrive. They thought he was good before, but if they praise him next thing they know their legs are shaking and they’re cramping so bad because they just can’t take anymore but it feels so fucking good so they will take it all with no complaints

Quite the reputation in bed.

Overstimulation, bondage, choking, anything to give him the control he wants.

But then he has someone extra special for the lack of control he needs. | I feel like this person is Pansy, but that’s a whole other story.

Draco wants to be a sub SO BAD, but he will only let those he trusts see that side of him.

One girl, MAYBE TWO! MAYBE

But even having one person who knows that side of him exists makes him so anxious so he will probably only stick to that one person.

Draco likes to talk about every single girl he fucks and he brags about his encounters regularly.

But he’s taking his secret Dom to the grave and he will gaslight the shit out of everyone if he is ever exposed. He REFUSES to let people know that side of him exists.

Draco Malfoy | Friend

Closest to Mattheo and Blaise | I KNOW PEOPLE DON’T PUT HIM IN MATTHEO TOGETHER HER! I EXPLAIN IT A LITTLE BIT IN MY MATTHEO HC BUT IT MAKES SENSE!

Draco is a good friend

He’s such a sweet guy once he gets comfortable around someone.

So supportive!! | Lucius and Narcissa loved to cheer for their baby boy so that’s how he treats his friends.

As long as it makes him look good!

If someone is playing a game with him and they’re on the opposite team then he is spending every second praying for their downfall

But if his friend is on the same team as him then he becomes so proud every time they do something right.

Look at his bestie out there showing everyone their skills and helping him win. | Go bestie!

Outside of his selfish nature, he doesn’t like to see his friends fail.

He gets really unhappy when he feels like he’s failed at something and so he projects those feelings onto others and in turn that makes him want to help his friends succeed.

He thinks if they don’t then they’ll feel the way about themselves that he feels about himself.

He will always make sure his friends have their notes, they’re in class, they’re eating, they’re studying, etc.

And if they’re doing any sort of presentation, performance, whatever he will be in the crowd like the proud parent he is.

Does not share.

If Blaise asks to use his Dior cologne he is absolutely saying no because he doesn’t want to waste any of it. | Only child behavior. No offense.

But he’ll go out the next day and buy Blaise his own.

“Here,” as he drops the box in front of him.

“Is this?”

“You said you wanted to try it,” he shrugs

“You didn’t have to buy me a bottle! You could have just let me use yours.”

“And why would I do that?”

Draco Malfoy | Boyfriend

He's so obvious when he's in love.

He genuinely treats you like you're some sort of a goddess.

Draco would not let you do anything.

He won’t do it for you, but he’ll find someone who will.

“Draco, why is Mattheo on a rampage in the library? I was walking by and heard Pince screaming at him.”

“I told him if he found that book you needed for your test I’d take him to the concert next weekend.”

“But you promised me I could go!”

“You are going.”

“Then why-“

“Shhhhhh”

You will always be his number one priority. Acts of Service

Draco will basically upgrade your life.

Does your water bottle leak sometimes? He’s already bought you a new one.

He presents you with gifts, but if it’s a replacement he usually switches them out and will tell you later.

You would need to communicate when something is sentimental because otherwise, he’s throwing it out for a new one

Door creaks? New door. The drawer won’t open properly? New dresser. Woke up with a sore back? New mattress.

He just bought the items, someone else replaced them.

Eventually, he’ll start doing some services himself too.

At first, it seems beneath him, but once he’s all in he doesn’t even have to think about it.

Puts his jacket on the ground because you want to sit and enjoy nature and he won’t let you get your outfit dirty

Will make sure to loosen up any skincare, food jars, or whatever he knows you regularly use so that you don’t have to waste time seeking him out to do it.

He knows when you’ll use them and gives himself time in his schedule to loosen them just before you need them.

Will not let you stress over anything.

The second you mention you have more than three things to do that day he’s already rejecting the idea.

“Oh, absolutely not. That’s way too much. I’ll have someone do that for you.”

He’s not letting you work. You’re too good to work.

A life of luxury, baby. Gift Giving

DRACO EXCELS IN THIS CATEGORY

You guys don’t even need to be dating for that long. On your third date, he shows up with a Birkin bag

His parents bought his love and that’s how he would treat his partner as well.

He would not let you pay for anything.

Same mentality as Theo where he just thinks it would make him look bad if you ever did pay for anything so it’s not happening. It doesn’t matter if you actually want to pay.

Why would Draco Malfoy let anyone pay for him? That’s so embarrassing.

Elevates your wardrobe. He wants to coordinate. Not so much matching outfits but if he’s wearing all black then you’re wearing all black.

Will be very controlling with this kind of stuff. He wants you to always fit his aesthetic. If he’s not wearing sweatpants then neither are you.

Why should you dress comfortably when he bought you 10 different dresses just in the last hour?

New shoes, makeup, nails, hair

Paying for your facial because his girl needs to relax.

And he’s in the chair next to you because all of those looks of disdain he gives out on the daily are giving him wrinkles. | Skincare King.

And to make sure his girl gets the best treatment

You deserve it all and he will show you that and tell you that every single day.

Little off-track Draco rant moment coming up.

I feel like when you first start dating Draco he will be a little judgmental and controlling. Like with what I mentioned about him wanting you to have a specific aesthetic

But when he falls in LOVE

He has this full-body reaction to every single thing you do.

You wake up in the morning your hair a mess, boob hanging out, crust all up in your eyes and he just looks at you and his stomach gets this queasy yet dull feeling and his mind is zeroed in on you. It’s like someone literally went into his brain and fully erased every single thought that wasn’t centered around you.

He feels the hairs raise around his body and he gets this rush of adrenaline from being both excited and so nervous because how the fuck is the most beautiful person in the world in his bed right now?

But the main thing he notices is his heart. This ache takes over his chest as he’s so overwhelmed with how much he loves you.

And to get it all out he HAS to tell you every single day. All day.

Words of Affirmation

Dating Draco means you have to be comfortable with compliments because he positively will not stop.

“The way this light is hitting you makes you look amazing.”

“I swear you’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

It doesn't matter if you're eating, studying, or talking to your friend or professor he will always find the right moment to lean forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he tells you how beautiful you are.

Once more, when Draco is in love with you, for lack of a better word, he becomes the utmost simp.

Did you pass your exams? Just barely pass them?

“You’re so impressive. You’re so smart, I can’t believe I’m dating you. I’m so lucky.”

Style your hair differently?

“You’re so creative. How do you come up with this stuff? That’s amazing, you look so good.”

Cook eggs? The most basic meal ever or even if you don’t cook and just order out

“You always know exactly what I need. I’m so thankful for you. You always take such good care of me. I appreciate you so much.”

He doesn’t care how cringey he sounds. His girl is a goddess and she deserves to be worshipped. Both with words and with Physical Touch

Draco loves to touch you, but he’s not fully comfortable with PDA.

He was raised in a household where those things weren’t proper to display in front of others.

All of his PDA is very subtle. Your hands rest next to each other as you’re sitting down and he has two fingers gently rested atop of yours.

Standing next to each other somewhere and he has his hand gripping the back of your arm. Kind of his way of showing everyone who you belong. And also reminding you that he’s there. Just so you don’t forget about your lovely boyfriend.

When you’re with friends and the air is more relaxed he’ll keep an arm around your shoulder and softly play with your earlobe.

It’s all very subtle. Then when you’re in private he becomes so annoying

He needs physical touch and he needs it NOW

After class every day he needs at least a 20-minute cuddle session. 20 minutes and no less. He will build his entire schedule around this and will bitch out anyone who ruins his time with you.

He prefers to be the little spoon and he likes to rest his head very nicely upon your boobs

Back rubs are mandatory. You need to rub his back as soon as he lays down.

Playing with his hair isn’t a necessity, but it’s preferred.

However, if you are playing with his hair then you need to commit. Don’t just run your fingers through it once and call it a day.

“Baby, please. I can’t deal with this today. I’ve already had so many things go wrong, if you take your hand away from my head again I will frankly have a nervous breakdown.”

“Draco, calm down. It’s not tha-“

“PLEASE!”

He takes the Quality Time he gets with you very seriously.

Draco can be busy, he’s not that partner who is around you 24/7 but when he is with you he is fully devoted.

Anything that might distract him is getting pushed to the side and he is 100% yours.

Do you want to watch the same movie for the 6th time in two weeks? Fully invested. He knows every line. Even if he hates it he will never act like he’s uninterested or bored.

If it’s important to you then it’s important to him.

You want to rant about how that one person pissed you off again? All ears.

Do you simply want someone to go with you to the store, for a walk, or just do the most random thing? Of course, he will come. If you need him to do something? Great, he’ll help. Do you just want company? He will gladly be a figure in the background you can talk to when you want to.

Draco will never let you believe for a second he isn’t absolutely in love with you. His love is filled with such enthusiasm and care that it’s easy to see how much he wants you in his life

And in his bed | ;)

Draco Malfoy | Committed Lover

Remember when I said Draco likes to worship you?

IT IS BECAUSE HE HAS A WORSHIP KINK

He doesn’t like to be rushed during sex. You are the most ethereal being he has ever seen and he needs to take his time with you.

He has every detail of your body memorized because he loves to look at, feel, and taste every morsel of you.

Sprawled out against his bed, frustrated and desperate because Draco has spent the last 45 minutes kissing almost your entire body, purposely leaving out the spot you need him at most.

He may take 45 minutes to an hour just focusing on the rest of your body, but he saves your breathtaking cunt for last because he has to dedicate at least three hours to that

Munch.

It’s concerning how often Draco eats you out. If you let him I’m sure he would do it at least four-five times a day. On his knees with his tongue swiftly moving over your sensitive bud while he looks up at you in awe because you just look so pretty when you cry for him.

Draco would have a hard time teasing you or withholding anything.

It’s like he goes into a trance.

Cock being sucked into your achy cunt, squeezing him so tight he feels like he can’t breathe

And then your lashes flutter and your mouth parts and he just stares at you mindlessly as he continues to drill himself into you.

You’re so pretty he can hardly focus.

Draco is adaptable. He’s a switch, but he prefers to be a sub.

It’s when his worship kink and praise kink come out the most. He wants to worship you but he would like it if you praised him in the process for being such a good boy.

On his knees staring up at you as he runs his tongue from the top of your ankle all the way to the end of your hip.

You’re sitting down as Draco rests his head against your lap-begging, pleading for you to bounce on his cock and use him like the good little toy he is.

And you do.

Draco does so much for you. He would lay the world at your feet. It’s only fair that he gets a little treat.

————

hehehehehe

[bunnys-kisses]

vegetable patch (3)

farmer!captain john price & (brief) hybrid!simon

cw: hybrid au, bunny!reader, farmer!price, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, man-handling, fingering, pwp/smut, full nelson (sex position), oral sex (f receiving), threesome, guard dog!simon, double penetration, older!price, mindbreak, (there's a lot happening),

part one (simon) | part two (simon & johnny)

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own!

john never thought it would get to this. when he bought the farm and raised his hybrid guard dogs, he never expected to have a bunny around. let along a pregnant one.

but almost six months into your pregnancy, he had grown affectionate of you. sure you were a bit to handle sometimes, but in a way pregnancy, a roof over your head and a fully belly (in both ways) has made you softer. less of a wild animal and more of a pet.

it was cute.

the one thing that didn't change was your insatiable lust. originally price thought that two strong hybrid dogs would take care of your little bunny cunt, but not even those could stop you. let alone the heaviness of your middle.

the boys were out patrolling the yard with you safe in the house. you were curled up on simon's doggy bed with your hands on your belly and your hands situated on your belly with your head propped up on a pillow.

it was cute, john found himself almost enamored by the sight of you as he relaxed on the couch with a beer in his hand. you were just so small, the little bit of chub at your hips only made you seem cuter.

he got up from the couch and left the beer on the table as he walked toward you. he crouched down and rubbed your cheek. you leaned into his touch and whimpered a little. he chuckled and said, "good girl."

your eyes opened a little and you looked up at price, "what time is it?" your little tail did a wiggle under the over-sized shirt that you wore. he chuckled and pulled you close to him.

he fully sat down on the floor and took you into his arms, delicately. his hand grazed your middle, "not even close to lunch, the boy's are still out. it's just you and i."

you dipped your nose into the crook of his neck and you whimpered, "i feel wet."

"yeah, havin' wet dreams about simon, mama?"

"no." you said, "about you." as your hand reaches for his shirt and you held onto it. you buried your face deeper into his neck as he held you on the hardwood floor.

price's eyes went wide for a moment but then slowly got up with you in his arms. it was like holding a sack of potatoes. the most prominent part of you was the puppy was slept soundly in your belly.

"then i guess we must go to bed then. i know you love simon's bed, but my knees and back won't let me fuck you on the floor." his voice was gruff.

you giggled, "be gentle, baby's sleeping."

"of course, bunny." he replied as he brought you upstairs to his bedroom. there was a spare room for guests and an extra room for the three hybrids of his home.

but right now he was taking you to his room where he could fuck that sweet bunny cunt. it hadn't been the first time he had ever done it, but every time it was something else. a wild little hybrid now tamed and under his gentle care, the way he tamed his boys.

the bed was large and soft, he placed you down and started to work on the jeans he wore followed by the flannel of his shirt. he was hairier than simon and johnny, who had tufts here and there to show their hybrid heritage. but price was hairy that was a man was.

you wondered if a human got a hybrid pregnant then what would the baby be. because from the size of price, you were certain to have a heavy newborn. you got off your shirt and sat there naked on the bed, exposed to your farmer.

his large hands touched your belly gently, thumb grazed the stretch marks, "keepin' the little pup nice and safe, huh? bein' a good mama for me?

you nodded, "only the best for you, sir."

he reached down and rubbed your chubby little cheek, "i can see why simon trapped ya." he chuckled, "cute thing like you shouldn't be wandering the woods. that little cottontail will get into too much trouble."

he got onto the bed and man-handled you into his lap, he wanted to feel you as deep as he could. he wanted to know the inside and outside of bunny cunt. but the position he got you into was more of a wrestling move to keep you pinned against him.

you put your knees up to your head and he had your arms pinned back against him. your squirmed a little, you sort of loved the idea of being trapped. john was propped up against the oak headboard with his little pet bunny in his lap with her cunt soon full of his cock.

it was a little hard to do with such a big belly in the way, you had to squish it a little as you were moved to fit his position. you faced the door that led out of the bedroom and with a few misplaced thrusts, you moaned when price sank his cock into you.

"ah, sir!" you whimpered.

he thrusted into you and kept you in the position. it tested you physical limits but john was a strong man and you were a flexible bunny. after all you had to get through his fence somehow. but now you were all nice a plump with child.

price groaned at the idea of you pregnant with his child next. such a sweet little bunny carrying the farmer's seed made his cock throb while buried inside of you. you sweet noises were music to his ears.

"you like that, mama." he groaned, "you like when i fuck you hard?" he kissed the shell of your ear, "simon got lucky to have a taste of you first, because if it were me. if i caught you in my vegetable patch, then you'd never get the taste of my cock out of your mouth."

you kicked your legs out a little bit as he sank into your further, as deep as it would go. you could feel his cock pressed against your womb. your ears twitched and you felt soaked.

"you'd like that wouldn't you. maybe a little bit more time before you go on birth control would do you some good. see if you can take this old man's seed in your pretty, fertile cunt." he grumbled, "bunnies are known for their many babies."

you felt something churn in your stomach as your pregnant belly bounced with every hard thrust. the sex was rough, heat filled the air as you two moved together.

"i like how you look, mama. all swollen with pup. i bet it was so easy for you, took simon's seed so nicely." he purred as he held you tightly, making it slightly uncomfortable.

but you felt on cloud nine, until the bedroom door opened. and on the otherside was none other than your lover, simon. you whimpered and kicked out your legs.

simon was covered in muck, blood across the shirt he wore. he watched you as you were cock drunk and raised an eyebrows, "price." he said, "what are you doin' with my girl."

"she needed a little tlc, simon." he replied, "you know what bunnies are like. they could be having thirteen kits and still beg for another." he looked over your shoulder and asked, "what the hell did you get into."

"had to scare of a coyote." simon replied, "he could smell bunny all the way from the fence. that's how i knew you were fuckin' her."

"then get that shirt off and help me out." john replied as his pace became harder. you saw stars and your mouth hung open for a moment in pure lust.

with his shirt off and dropped to the floor, followed by, his jeans. he was soon on the bed and licking at your sweet cunt as price fucked you. you were trapped between the two men and you felt a dizziness in your mind.

this was somehow more intense than the threesome you had with johnny and simon. simon only let those in his 'pack' have a taste of his pregnant mate, which meant coyotes like graves were off limits. if simon ever saw graves' paws on you.

simon kept your legs open with his strong hands, the tips of his claws left indents in your skin as he lapped at your cunt. his tongue did touch price's cock which made the older man feel hot all over.

you were the loudest out of the three of you, your voice was high pitched and you felt so full. you squirmed against both men but they kept you still as best as they could.

you came once, then twice, the three times from the pleasure from both men. it was sensory overload. your mind went blank by the third orgasm that the men pulled from you. which left simon painfully hard.

"got any room in there, price." simon said as he pulled away from your cunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his cock stood at full attention in his underwear.

"well, she'll need a good stretch if she's havin' your pup." price chuckled, he could feel himself getting closer. you on the other hand were mindlessly moaning without being able to form words.

your pussy was so wet that he slid in next to price with ease. the stretch made you whimper like an animal, but soon you were dropped back into the depths of pleasure as both men used you.

price let go of your arms but caged you with his around your middle. you felt sore, but your brain couldn't register much. your mouth hung open and drooled a little. your brain felt like it was broken in half.

"i know you can't smell it, price." simon said, "but bred bunny smells the best." his hands were on your belly and soon were price's. simon felt superior for having seeded you first.

sure his other packmates had their fun, but everything from the pup in your belly to the cotton on your tail was his. he watched your gasp for air as you tried to formulate thoughts.

his poor pregnant mate, such a beating to your pussy. but it was okay, he knew that you liked it. bunny's had a pension for a little pain.

both men, fucked you without much abandon. they ever managed to pull one last orgasm out of you which tore from your throat as you went limp against price's hairy chest. the feeling of two cocks inside of your cute little cunt was just too much.

and not wasting any seed, they flooded your poor pussy with human and hybrid seed alike. they stayed in you for a moment more before they pulled out at the same time. cum oozed out of you and simon petted your belly.

"johnny's gonna be jealous he didn't get to join." price remarked.

simon replied, "before he went out on patrol with me. he stuffed a sock in her mouth and fucked her in his bed on the floor. she's got all of our seed in her."

price held you in his arms as you twitched and moaned from the aftershocks of your activity. he watched simon kiss you before he rubbed your belly, "good mama. good little bunny, now you rest and keep growing that pup. simon and i will come back for you later."

you managed to give them a weak nod, your brain felt flat-lined but the lingering feelings of pleasure still shook you to your core <3

[dee-morris]

Some Random Thoughts on the Nature of Free Will

Thinking about that conversation from the book that got put into The Resurrectionists. Aziraphale is explaining how he and Crowley are good and wicked, respectively, but they have no choice while Elspeth does. Bc humans can't be truly good unless they have the choice to be wicked.

(This is where I usually end up arguing with someone on Twitter lol bc they think Aziraphale is being Mean to Crowley by calling him wicked. It's just a brand name darling, not a judgment call. He literally said in the same breath that he's not TRULY wicked bc he wasn't given a choice.)

So I'm sitting here thinking about free will and the choices the celestials are given, which are not many. And I wonder if one of the reasons they were drawn to the Arrangement was to give them each the choices that humans were born with. One can't be truly good without the opportunity to do wrong, so perhaps being able to work both sides of the equation helped them develop into truly moral beings and not just extensions of their offices. We see in Uz how they're able to work together and bounce off each other to save Job's family, even though the Arrangement didn't properly exist yet.

I've also seen lots of takes and metas that indicate that people view Heaven and Hell as a class system: Heaven is the upper-class privileged majority, while Hell is oppressed, kicked out, downtrodden. I think people forget that the primary difference between the two is aesthetic. Hell has all the same powers as Heaven, and they both intend to burn humanity to the ground in order to prove their gang is best.

No, if we're going to talk about who's got privilege, it's definitely humanity over heaven or hell. We have free will and imagination, which are more miraculous than anything. Sure they've got all these powers and can work miracles and so on, but where's that gotten them? We can actually change things. All they can do is try and influence us to change things, and their success rate isn't high. Two of the most powerful beings in the universe couldn't convince an eleven year old boy to blow things up. That's. Pathetic, actually.

Which brings me back around to the ineffables. Because they actually DO have free will, but I don't think they're used to realizing that they do, which might be why they act a little bone headed sometimes. The show implies and the book comes right out and says that they picked it up from being around humans. And like I said earlier, I think the Arrangement played a big part. They were actually able to choose to do good or evil, a luxury that normally only humans can enjoy.

And the best part of this, for me anyway, is knowing that everything that they are to each other is a conscious choice. Aziraphale didn't want to be a fighter, so he gave his sword away and made the conscious choice to be soft and silly and get into scrapes. And Crowley chooses to come to his rescue because he likes it, not because he is obligated. It's a way for him to choose to do good without getting in trouble. They are each other's outlet to explore humanity in a way that would be impossible if they were on their own.

Aziraphale speaks French badly and flutters his eyelashes and plans elaborate Balls because he loves doing human things and he wants to do them with Crowley. Crowley drives a sleek classic sex machine with bullet hole stickers on the windows and goes on capers and performs daring moves because he loves doing things the human way and he wants to do them with Aziraphale. The way they interact and work together because they WANT to, and not because it's their Great Bloody Destiny or whatever, is so fucking beautiful to me.

[copperbadge]

Immediate Writer's Block

Had a comment on another post where I thought I'd probably need more space than the notes in which to respond, so:

constant-state-of-self-discovery Oh I get the envy I feel it right now how the fuck do you manage to write without impassable writers block after 5-9 sentences because I haven't fucking figured it out lol

I do have some advice on this!

I think most writers get blocked from time to time, it's normal and my general strategy is just to wait it out, but if you're frequently blocked after only writing a very little bit, I think the problem is one of two things: either you don't know what you want to achieve with the scene you're writing, or you don't know what should happen next within the scene to achieve that goal. If you frame "I'm blocked" as "I don't have an answer I need" then often you move from just sitting there, sweating and staring at a blank page, to thinking productively about how you're going to get where you're going. It's the difference between not knowing an answer and not knowing an answer but knowing where to look for it.

An invaluable piece of advice for this, which I think I picked up from someone who got it off a National Novel Writing Month messageboard, is "When in doubt, ninjas attack." It's not meant to be literal, you don't need to have ninjas or fight scenes just because you don't know what to do, but it helps to get the creativity flowing again. If you don't know what should happen next, or you know but you're having trouble actually writing the scene, it can be very helpful to induce a moment of uncertainty or surprise -- to have a metaphorical ninja attack. One time I did this literally -- the POV character was just on the road somewhere and I didn't know how to get them from a pastoral country road to their actual destination in an interesting way, so I had them get attacked by highway bandits and have to fight them off, which also allowed me to demonstrate that the character had significant unarmed combat skills. But it can also just be like, two characters who are having a boring conversation can be interrupted by a third person, even just a stranger asking for directions, or there can be, IDK, an explosion, or something goes missing, or etc.

Sometimes it also helps to leave it alone but keep it in your mind and go do something else -- listen to a podcast, take a walk, read a book, not because those things are distracting but because all our inputs eventually feed into our brain and come out as reactions. If you're thinking about your book while you're wandering around a park, something you see in the park might have an impact on it. If you've got YOUR story in mind while reading someone else's, you might be more inclined to look at what they're saying and see what you think of it, how it might play into your work.

And honestly, sometimes you just gotta go past it. I'm working on the next Shivadh novel right now and it opens basically with Simon the chef getting into a spat with his love-interest-to-be over some cheese. He want the cheese, she won't sell him the cheese, so they get off to a very contentious start. But I suck at writing conflict especially when it's basically "A character I like is being pompous and another character I want people to find likable is being stubborn and somewhat unpleasant". I've been stalled on it for a while. But I know where the scene ends up, like I do know what the goal is, so I just...skipped it and went on to writing a scene I like better, where they meet a second time and actually discover each others' identity and that they're about to be forced into the grownup equivalent of a school project. Once I've gotten dug deeper into the story I'll come back and write it, and by then I'll have the benefit of knowing the love interest a bit better.

So yeah -- I think a lot of breaking a writer's block, especially when you don't need rest but are just stumped about what to do, is to twist and look at it from another angle. It's not that you don't know what to write, or don't want to write what you know you have to -- it's that you don't have the correct answer to a question, or you need to leave that part alone to ferment and come back to it later. At least, for me.

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m and f receiving)

wc: 4.9K

Chapter 2: Let the fun and games begin

The next day was a blur of anxiety as you didn’t know what to do about last night. Rose and Ward had left early this morning taking Wheezie to drop her off at her camp. That just left you, Sarah and Rafe all alone at Tannyhill. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem but considering Sarah is MIA it became one. Every room you enter fills you with anxiety and dread of seeing Rafe. How do you even look at him after what happened? After he caught you watching him fuck his fist. Alright you think as you start to throb just thinking about how his arms flexed everytime he stroked himself. This is getting out of hand, it was one thing for your thoughts to keep you up all night but it can't affect your daily routine.

What’s the worst that can happen right? So what if you stood there and watched him, he would have done the same in your position. Hell he probably would have taken it as an invitation if he walked in on you like that. But no matter how you tried to spin it in your head it all led to the same conclusion. You were utterly fucked. The past year was easy to blow him off, all you had to do was think about all the girls you saw crying over him. But now that you caught a glimpse of that side of him you can’t help wanting to get a closer look. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, you thought. It really wouldn’t, he’s really handsome and if his reputation is right then he’s also really good in bed.

Then you think about Wheezie and how hurt she would be if something went wrong and you had to leave. The thought of hurting her alone was good enough for the thoughts to finally stop. No matter how attractive Rafe is it isn't worth it, plus his personality would probably ruin it before it even starts. Yeah the two of you are completely different, he grew up rich and thinks the world is his to rule and you grew up in the cut. If it wasn’t for this job you would still be living at home barely making anything to feed yourself. He only tolerates you because he thinks you are hot and you work for his family. Yup that it, right?

The tv plays in the background reruns of Grey’s Anatomy playing as you try to relax. It’s close to five o’clock and no one is in the house. Sarah is probably off with John B and Rafe is well he’s mostly likely off somewhere getting high. Derek’s voice plays in your ear as you focus back onto the screen forcing yourself to think of anything but the older Cameron. Watching as the surgery scene plays out your phone pings. Mom: Hi baby. Just wanted to let you know dad and I are having a cookout tomorrow night. We would like it if you came, we know you’re a busy bee but we miss you. You let out a sigh looking at the message. It wasn’t that your relationship with your parents is bad, they just expected a lot from you. 

It was always about getting good grades so you could get a good job and help them out with bills. They wanted you to take care of them once you had a stable job. So when you decided to take up a job as a nanny they weren’t too pleased.  The displeasure faded away once they found out it was being a nanny for the Camerons. Even though the paycheck was nice, well more than nice, it still wasn’t enough to cover their expenses and your own. It’s been a constant argument between the three of you. You type out a quick response before she starts sending you more. You: Hey! I miss you both. I’ll try to make it, Ward and Rose asked me to watch the house while they are gone. Your phone wasn’t even out of your hand before it went off again with another message. Mom: I’m sure they won’t mind you being away for a few hours. But if you can’t make it we will just see you another time then. Her message seems so understanding but deep down you know she's upset. Fingers go to respond but a voice scares you. The phone drops from your hand as you whip your head to look at who came into the living room. “Still pretending to text that boyfriend of yours?” Rafe says, making his way over to the couch and plopping down near you. Scoffing at him you respond. “No, I'm texting my mother.” “oh so you admit the boyfriend was fake.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he grins at you, watching to see what your next move will be. “Yeah it was fun watching you get jealous but I decided to give it a rest for tonight.” The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, he’s looking at what you are wearing. You didn’t notice it at the time but it’s one of his old shirts that got mixed with your laundry a while ago. It looks like a dress on you blocking the view of your sleep shorts underneath. Which is a good thing because those shorts leave nothing to the imagination, barely covering you up from the world. Every now and then you wear it but only in your room, not allowing yourself to let him know you have it. 

“Nice shirt.” He comments scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “You should wear it more often Sunny. Really makes your eyes pop.” Mhm you mumble knowing that he’s not looking anywhere near your eyes. In fact he’s staring at the exposed flesh of your thighs. Skimming up along your legs pausing for a moment at your cunt. Rafe’s eyes on you are making you wiggle in your seat as you try to focus back on the show. It is quiet for a moment as the voices of the characters fill the room. The sky outside starts to darken as the sun finally sets, the room painted in the soft lights of the screen.

Rafe is staring at you, looking at how the light washes of blue dance across your features as you try your best to not stare at him. Movement catches your attention as you see him slide further along the cushions to sit right next to you. “Where’s Sarah?” He whispers by my ear, his right hand brushes against your left thigh. “Um… I don’t know. Maybe she’s with John B or the rest of them.” Clearing your throat, the voice leaving you sounding weak. “Hmm so it’s just us in the house?” The question was met with his hand resting fully on your thigh. Lightly squeezing you as it slowly goes a bit higher right where the shirt ends, fingers quickly skirting underneath before going back to its original position. 

“Rafe.” The rest of the statement was cut off by him. ”Don’t do that. Enough with this game of cat and mouse. I know you want this as badly as I do.” A moan slips from you as his hand goes back under the shirt to tease you through your shorts. Rafe’s middle finger grazing you up and down, noticing the way your eyes screw shut. Creases forming around them as he keeps playing with you. “We shouldn’t do this, I literally work for your family.” You try to reason with him turning to be face to face, whimpering as the heat of his hand leaves as he retracts it. 

“I know.” He whispers as the hand that was touching your caresses your check, knotting into your hair to drag you closer. The other hand worms it way back to your shorts, sliding them to the side to finally feel you. “Fuck no panties? See you’re practically soaking those little shorts of yours.” You moan as he circles your clit with a feather-like touch. “Are you always this wet or do you like me touching you like this?” He chuckles as you move further into his touch. “You’re not special Cameron. I’m always this wet.” The response stops all movement, the grip in her hair tightening for a short second causing your eyes to open. Meeting the blue eyes that haunted you all night, you let go.  “Don’t stop.” 

Your lips crash into his, soft pillowy lips melting together, teeth nipping at each other's lips as Rafe’s fingers continue their assault. “That’s a good girl, Sunny. Fucking perfect.” The words tickle your lips, head thrown back as he makes his way to your entrance. Rafe pushes his middle finger in, dragging it along your walls in a delicious and intoxicating way. Moans keep slipping from your lips and only intensifies as his lips skate across your skin, latching onto your neck. 

A second finger joins his middle one curling just enough to hit your g-spot, tingles spread across your body, legs spreading giving him better access. “Right there.” You moan, your hand landing on his thigh trying to ground yourself when all you can feel is pleasure. Wet squelching fills your eyes only adding to the sensation of his thick fingers fucking you open. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe picks up his speed before taking his fingers out of you and putting them in his mouth. He moans around his fingers, pushing you back to lay down on the couch.  “Come on, pretty girl, lay down for me. Want to have my dinner.” 

Your brain is so hazy from having his fingers inside you that you don’t fight back. Lifting your hips, his hands wrap around your hips to pull the pathetic excuse you call shorts down your legs. The flimsy material being thrown off to the side, shirt pushed up to your waist exposing you to him for the first time. “God your pussy’s perfect. Look at it clenching around nothing. Want me to fill you up.” His lips start to kiss up your thigh, biting into the soft flesh when you don’t respond. “Please.” You whine 

“Please what? Use your words, I know a smart girl like you can do it.” The praise goes straight to your head, hips lifting off the couch trying to chase after his touch. “Please, sir.” The whimper halts Rafe and he stares up at you. After a moment of him not doing anything you look down at him between your legs. If you had a camera in this moment you would take a picture, he was a sight to be seen. Rafe’s lips are puffy and red but his eyes are staring at you with this hunger that makes you go to close your legs but he stops you. Both hands spread your legs as he dives into your cunt.

“Fuck that wasn’t what I was looking for but I’ll be damned if you don’t call me that.” His voice vibrates against you sending chills down your body. “Say it again.” His middle and ring finger push into you once again, pumping in a cruel slow pace. “Please, sir. It feels so good.” Your walls flutter around the fingers inside you, his tongue kitty licking your clit. “Such a good little slut. Begging me to keep finger fucking you like some depraved whore.” His words cause you to squeeze his finger and throw your head back with a moan. 

“Yeah you like being degraded?” A chuckle leaves him “Should’ve known you would like it. Prancing around the house in those little skirts. Just asking for me to bend you over some surface to fuck you. Bet you want me to fuck that attitude right out of you. Huh would that finally shut up that little mouth of yours?” With his fingers curling into you deeper and his mouth suctioning against your clit no words come out. Your mouth hangs open and all you can do is place your hand behind his head, keeping him as close as possible to you. 

A choked moan is lodged in your throat, eyes peeking at him through your lashes. His eyes are closed as he keeps devouring you, his hips thrusting into the couch to relieve the growing pain in his pants. Rafe wanted nothing more than to rip his pants off and shove his dick into your tight pussy. If you were squeezing him so nicely now, he can only imagine how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. He wanted to watch as you crumble into a mess of pleasure, taking his dick like a cock drunk slut. The thought of that alone causes his hips to stutter, the feeling making him moan into your pussy.

At this rate you can feel your peak creeping up fast. “Oh god Rafe. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Hips thrusting up to match the brutal pace his fingers have set. If you thought his arms looked good jerking himself off, nothing compares to watching it flex as he fucks you. “I’m not stopping, baby. I’m never going to stop. But that’s not my name.” Rafe means it too. Just the little taste of you has ruined him, no one will be able to compare to the sweet taste of you. “Sir!” you squeal. He's drunk off the feeling and taste of you, every clench of your pussy making him grind harder into the cushion. “I can feel you squeezing me. You want to be my good girl right? Cum for me Sunny.”

With a graze of his teeth on your clit, you were sent to ecstasy. Hips thrashing all around as he kept sucking on your clit, fingers pushing deeper into you riding out your orgasim. Once you come down he removes his fingers, quickly cleaning them with his tongue before diving back into you. Licking you clean and holding you down by the waist as you try to escape him. When he’s finally done he lets you go, leaning back, chest heaving looking down at you.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. So fucked out catching your breath with a peaceful look on your face. Eyes still closed you don’t notice him leaning back down, encasing your body with his. His thumb lightly dances along your cheek, waiting for you to open your eyes to look at him. “Thank you.” You whisper suddenly shy as if he wasn’t just eating you out like you were his last meal. Rafe laughs, kissing you deeply before moving off of you. “Such good manners.” He walks over to your shorts, throwing them back at you, making his way out of the room. “I have to go deal with something. I’ll be back later okay.”

Silence wraps around you, the tv displaying Are you still watching? Getting up you pull your shorts back on looking around the couch for your phone and the remote. Finding your phone you also notice something on the couch. A huge wet spot from where you were laying, heat rushes to your checks knowing you just soiled an expensive couch.

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The rest of the night was uneventful, Sarah never came back home so you were left all alone. Usually you and Wheezie would spend the summer nights outside swimming in the pool or staying up late chatting about god knows what. Without her there really wasn’t anything to do besides lay around or go to a party. After much consideration the only one that seemed right was staying at home. You knew Rafe would most likely be at the party, the something he had to deal with being selling coke. After last night and tonight you don’t even know how to face him again.

So staying at home was the best option in your books. A few hours were spent reading whatever romance book was on your bookshelf and making dinner for yourself. By midnight you were fast asleep in your room. Sleeping so peacefully, the sounds of the bedroom door opening weren't noticed. It was the door closing that stirred you from your slumber, looking at the bedside clock you noticed it was past two in the morning. Soft footsteps echo in the dark room, the person fumbling their way around knocking down whatever they made contact with. “Fuck” they curse the sound barely reachign you.

Scared and not knowing what to do you lay there slowly reaching for the bat by your bed. Even though this is a good neighborhood and people would have to have the gate code to get in you can never be too safe. The bat is now next to you in the bed, the side behind you dipping with the weight of the person sitting on it. “Sunny.” They whisper. Are you fucking kiddin’t me? “Rafe?” His hand wraps around you to turn you around, the bat coming along with you. “Jesus. Is that a fucking bat?”

Rafe slips it out of your hand placing it under your bed before going back to you. “Do you always keep a bat on you?” “Depends. Do you always sneak into girls' beds at two in the morning?” The moon shining through the windows dimly lit the room, contouring his face. “Only the pretty ones.” He whispers in the space between you two, telling you a secret he normally wouldn’t say. “I’m sure you say that to all of them.” You tease trying to put distance between you both. It’s weird having him laying in your bed, sure the two of you were friendly, things only changing the previous day. But this is different, he’s in your room, he’s laying in your bed next to you.

“Nah none of them need the sweet words to sleep with me.” Cocky tone matching the grin growing on his face. “Oh of course. Forgot that the kook king was also a king in the bedroom.” Rolling your eyes and lying on your back, you stare at the ceiling. Of course he would only say nice things to get into your pants, you don’t know why you could even think differently. Rafe’s face invades your eye line as he rests all his weight onto one arm to get a better look at you. His eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated scanning your face hoping it can tell him what you are thinking. 

“Penny for your thoughts.” Your eyes shut trying to form words with all the things you want to say. That he made you feel something no one else has been able to do, how you want to keep chasing that feeling, but more importantly that it was a mistake. It doesn’t matter that it felt amazing, that whatever it was would only lead to heartbreak. You’ve seen this film before with all the girls he flaunted around the house. “This.” You clear your throat, averting your eyes to the window. “This can’t keep happening.” 

Rafe takes a hold of your chin turning you to look at him. “Do you want it to keep happening?” The loaded question fizzling in the air was replaced by a quick “No.” leaving your lips. “But it doesn’t matter what I want.” “It does matter.” Blue eyes burning into your own pleading for you not to take away these moments. Communicating with you that he needs this as much as you need him. “It can be our little secret. I promise I won’t tell.” You giggle, his head burying into the crook of your neck, kissing the junction where your shoulder and neck meets. 

You try to push him by his shoulder but he won’t budge, kissing up your neck until he meets your ear. “Stop letting life pass you by. You stay cooped up in this house with Wheeze all day, she’s not a kid you know. When was the last time you let yourself go?” His breath tickles your ear before biting it and continuing to kiss your skin. Rafe’s right, you don’t do anything fun anymore. Before you took this job you would go out constantly, always with friends running around the island. Wheezie shouldn’t even need a nanny, the only reason you have this job is because Ward was scared. Sarah running away and Rafe doing drugs all the time made him paranoid, he doesn’t want the same to happen to her.

“I don’t know, I would say what we did on the couch would count.” His kisses travel to your jaw, then check, and finally meet your lips. “Yeah I would say it counts. Fucking soaked the couch from how wet you were.” You tense for a moment, embarrassed that he noticed the mess you made. “Nah nah don’t get shy on me pretty girl. You’re just as dirty and depraved as I am.” Pretty girl, that's the second time he’s called you pretty since he sneaked into your room. “You’re high, you should go to sleep.”

“Not high, that shit is practically out of my system at this point.” Kissing your lips he weasels his way on top of you. Your legs widening allowing him to slot his hips between yours, his dick rubbing you in the right way. You are still wearing the shorts from earlier, his dick making the fabric  stick to your folds. “Just want to feel you.” Rafe’s words punctuated with his hips slowly thrusting against you, lips kissing any exposed skin he can get to. “I’m not letting you fuck me after you’ve been taking drugs all night.”

You can feel him smile against your skin, giving you a peck and moving his head to meet your gaze. “So what I’m hearing is you would let me fuck you any other time.” scoffing you roll your eyes flicking his forehead. “Yeah dumbass that’s what I’m saying. It's too bad. I guess we’ll have to find another way.” “Another way?” There’s that smirk again, a fluttering feeling starts in your stomach. Shaking the feeling away you pull him up by his face to kiss you, using all of your body weight to get him on his back. Throwing your leg over his hip you straddle him. 

Rafe is the first to break the kiss, watching you from below as you start to grind against him. “Tell me princess exactly what is this other way?” The hand that was resting on your neck makes its way down the valley of your breast, teasing you nipples through the shirt with a pinch before finding its home on your hip. Viewing him from this angle is breathtaking, the moon painting him in a light blue. “Let me suck your dick.” His hips thrust up into your after hearing how you want to suck him off. “Yeah? Want to put the little mouth of yours to good use.” You grind a little harder leaning down to kiss his neck.

There’s a slight taste of sweat on his skin, probably from partying too hard, it doesn’t stop you from sucking on his pulse point. Pecking up to his ear and placing kisses right behind it, gaining moans from him. Bingo. Sucking on his sweat spot he uses his grip on your hips to move you back and forth. “Yeah. I want to feel you in my mouth, want to taste you.” This causes him to groan bucking into you. “Fuck! Yeah, yeah you can have whatever you want baby.” The words are like a reward, smiling as you look down at him, your hair covering the two of you from the outside world.

“Good boy.” Two simple words, two words that had him wrapped around your finger. The grip on your hip tightens as you kiss down his body, pulling his shirt over his head so you can nip at his skin. Your hands reach between your bodies undoing the belt and pants button easing the pain the zipper was giving him. He’s so painfully hard he can’t even remember the last time he wanted someone this much. “You like being my good boy just as much as I like being your good girl. If you admit it I’ll suck you so good.” You whisper, eyes flickering up to look at him. 

If his ego wasn’t so big he would admit it, he would tell you just how fucking bad he wanted to be good for you. But that’s not who he is, admitting something like that would just show you how weak he truly is, he can’t do that. “Oh you begging for me to fill that mouth up of yours and fuck that tone out of you.” He taunts from above, grasping at anything to give him the upper hand. “You’ll definitely be filling up my mouth. It’s just going to be under my rules.” Pushes his shorts and boxers down his cock springs free bobbing in front of your face. Reaching up you grab him and give him a little squeeze, electing a groan out of the boy laid out on your bed.

You kiss his left thigh before licking him from the base up to the mushroom tip that was red, begging for attention. The taste of pre-cum invades your tongue as you wrap your lips around him, sucking just the tip. He’s heavy in your mouth and you only have the tip in but based off of the quick glance you got you knew he was big. Like huge, he’s also wide, stretching your lips as you take more of him in. If he’s stretching you out like this then you can only imagine what fucking him would do. As if Rafe was a mind reader he calms your nerves. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll make it fit. Just…just keep sucking like that.” 

Humming around him, you start to move your head up and down, making sure to hollow your cheeks and give him a nice long suck on the way up. Repeating the motion you get into a rhythm, right hand wrapped around what you can’t fit helping you along. “Fuck that feels good. Who knew that mouth was good for something else other than talking back.” The vibrations of your chuckle send pleasure through Rafe’s body. He doesn’t know whether to watch you or to shut his eyes and enjoy the moment. But looking at the way your eyes are closed, worshiping his dick has him throwing his head back. His eyes closing, moans escaping him as he wraps your hair in a ponytail in his hands. Guiding your pace he pulls your hair this causes you to moan around the sensation making you wet. 

“Touch yourself.” The command takes you by surprise, following it, your unoccupied hand makes its way into your shorts. You're wet, wet is an understatement, you were soaked. You would never admit this but you liked the feeling of him in your mouth, the feeling of him rutting into you. “You get off on this shit don’t you?” Your fingers rub faster on your clit, already so close to cumming just by sucking him off. “Knew you were a cock slut. Damn baby.” He huffs between breaths. 

All you can do is moan and keep sucking, picking up the pace of your bobbing, moving your arm to slip a finger inside yourself. Rafe lifts his head at your movements, entranced by just watching you. His beautiful little Sunny being perfect, your eyes flutter open and his breath hitches. He’s going to remember this moment forever, it’s going to play on repeat in his head every minute of every day. Whatever happens after this is worth it in his eyes, this right here made it worth it. “If you keep going I’m gonna cum.” He moans, head falling back onto your pillow. 

Disconnecting from him a string of saliva and pre-cum kept the two of you tethered. “That’s kinda the point, pretty boy.” You continue your previous movements, on the verge of cumming yourself. You can feel him throbbing ready to explode in your mouth so you squeeze his base tighter, letting him know it's okay and you want it. “Can you be a good boy and come for me sir?” Not even a second later he lets go, white ropes of cum filling your mouth as you cum right after him. Swallowing around him, you let him go, releasing him from your mouth, the hand in your pants laying motionless. 

Rafe lets go of your hair, grabbing your arms to pull you up his body. The motion was so fast that you had to catch yourself as your body tumbles on top of him. He reaches for your hand, still glistening from your sum to pop them into his mouth. Rafe’s tongue swirls around the digest, licking them clean and releasing them to kiss you. “Taste just as sweet like before.” He kisses you, turning your bodies so you are both laying on your sides.

He has a soft smile on his lips, hands rubbing up and down your arm as he regulates his breathing. “Did so good, sunny.” His eyes are barely open, fighting off the sleep threatening to overcome him. “Yeah?” You whisper resting your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort with his arms wrapped around you. Snoring mets your ears as sleep takes you along with it. For the second night in a row, you go to bed with the taste of him still lingering on your taste buds.

[soralymystaken]

I think a lot about Lloyd and Harumi, solely because they have one of the most unique yet complex relationship dynamics in all of Ninjago, and it’s something I don’t feel like we talk about enough.

So often I see online that their dynamic is overly simplified. I so often see people arguing between them being “true-love” or “friends to lovers to enemies,” but stating it’s just one of those is overlooking all of the complexities. Even stating it as a one-sided thing from Lloyd isn’t looking at the whole picture. Of course, there can be many interpretations of how they interact. Again, that’s the reason I adore this dynamic so much. This, however, is my personal interpretation:

Also, warning, spoilers plus some swearing.

At the beginning, we see Lloyd have the whole “love-at-first-sight” trope, and we learn that Harumi invited him into the castle. While, of course this immediately is seemed as a positive interaction, later events reveal otherwise. It continues like this: Lloyd falls deeper in love with Harumi whilst she continues manipulating him to keep him on strings. She eventually realizes his feelings, and wants plays on that, making the process work exponentially better. Finally, we learn Harumi’s motives and her reasoning, and, in the episode, Lloyd is devastated. However, I have some additions on this, but I’m gonna finish up my review of canon before getting to that. We do also know that Lloyd still has feelings, though. We primarily see thing from Lloyd still trying to save her from Garmadon’s grasp along with his sadness from her death.

The next time we see her and Lloyd’s dynamic (at least as far as I want to mention,) is Crystalized. When Lloyd is captured, he apologizes. He still clearly has feelings for Harumi, and, in a turn of events, it seems that Harumi does as well, as she convinces the Overlord to spare him and to try to get him on their side.

Okay, enough about prior knowledge, lets discuss headcanons. So, firstly, I’m 100% sure that Lloyd was tormented by Harumi’s origin story. We know how high of a standard he holds himself to, and we also know how morally-driven he is. Him learning about the real stories of the real people who he had really hurt couldn’t have been taken easily. I’ve actually written a whole fic that revolves on that fact, and how Lloyd’s lingering feelings would have amplified that feeling to oblivion. Also, for people who assume he would immediately drop his feelings when he learned Harumi’s true motives, literally just look at how he talks about Garmadon and you’ll see he can’t exactly move on that easily. Things like this take time, and, again, he has guilt because of this whole thing. Moving on from a relationship when you believe you were the reason the person tried to destroy the entire world and subsequently died isn’t the same as a high school breakup. That’s fucking devastating, and especially for someone who hasn’t had the best relationships up to that point.

However, this dynamic really starts to become cloudy when you look at Harumi. Now, look: I’m like 90% sure she only had feelings for Lloyd in S15 as fan-service, but, fan-service or not, it’s canon, and therefore I’m still gonna cover it.

So, first off, when and how did Harumi develop feelings? Personally, I think there could be three main reasons. For one, gaslighting. The whole time, she was gaslighting Lloyd into loving her. Sometimes, when you keep up a lie like that for so long and with that level of commitment, you can convince even yourself of these feelings. Do I think this is the case for Harumi? Well, it depends. If you truly do believe there is a spark between them, then no. However, if you really don’t like the fact that they were given a romantic storyline in S15, then this is a totally valid reasoning.

The second reason that comes to mind is Lloyd’s persistence. Now, just to cover all our basis, reminder that “being persistent” and “never giving up on a love that could be” are not cutesy tropes and relationship goals, and no means no. I see too much stuff online saying shit like “I never gave up on her and, even though she said no 20 times, she gave in in the end.” This is not something to romanticize. If someone rejects you, fucking respect that and move tf on. That being said, though, I think that could actually be the case in this dynamic, albeit in a much less creepy way than some fuckers online do it. Lloyd clearly, even after all of the shit Harumi pulled, still has lingering feelings: a mix of platonic and romantic. I truly believe Lloyd is someone who believes that anyone can change for the better, and applies this to Harumi. The fact that, even after all the pain Harumi caused, he still searched for her in the rubble could be the reason she developed feelings. In my opinion, this is the most likely option.

The final one is a bit colder, and is for y’all who believe Harumi is evil through-and-through. Lloyd is fucking overpowered. Harumi’s reasoning to the Overlord could be just that: the reason. I personally don’t love this one as much, but if this is something you resonate with, I would totally understand why.

All of these factors strung together make Lloyd and Harumi one of my favorite dynamics. There is so much more that I didn’t even discuss here. Is it romantic or platonic or just romantic for one of them? Did Harumi develop feelings even sooner yet denied them solely because of her hatred? Is Lloyd’s relationship with Harumi less to do with Harumi herself and more-so to do with trying to rebuild a relationship with his father through her to prove he can hold onto someone he loves? All of these are questions I’d love to dive into but simply do not have time.

Hopefully you enjoyed my little rant. I love overthinking stuff like this and also love chatting about over-the-top headcanons. If you have any thoughts on this (or other headcanons you want to share), please do!

[neoflect]

sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing.  i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter fourteen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.7k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, manipulation, mental abuse, Javi being a dick, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, mild description of injury, mentions of noncon, emotional distress, anxiety attacks, this is fucked, please just go in with caution

Chapter Summary: Is this the beginning of the end?

A/N: hey, y’all! Another chapter that hits pretty close to home for me, as I’m sure a lot of the upcoming ones will. A lot of emotions in this one! Please always remember that I am here for anyone who would like to talk ❤️

*****

You don’t get out of bed for the majority of the next day. 

When you first wake, you feel like you’re being crushed by an overwhelming weight of emotion. It pushes you down and strips you until you’re bare and gasping for air, making you writhe and whimper in pain. And then it just stops. And you don’t feel sad, or scared, or anything else. Just void and numb. Like your body isn’t yours and your mind is in a far away place that you don’t dare attempt to reach.

The curtains are down, leaving the bedroom a dark and quiet place. Perfect to lay in bed, unfeeling and alone. It gives you nothing to focus on, so you instead hone in on the stickiness of your wet cheeks and the throbbing of your sore eyes. The sensation of your crumbling heart, though, you push it far, far away and leave it to rest. 

It’s Monday, so you know Javi’s gone to work, but you have no idea what time it is. You don’t want to get up to look, and you don’t want to think about your husband. Fuck, your husband. Tears sting your eyes and start to overflow, but you’re not consciously doing it. It’s like your very soul is confused and is causing your body to react in every way you wish it wouldn’t. At the thought of him, the uncomfortable ache between your legs makes itself known. It fucking hurts and it makes you feel pathetic, though you don’t understand why. You just know that there's an underlying feeling of shame crawling uncomfortably beneath your skin.

You want to wash it away—all the shame and hurt and confusion you won’t allow to surface. You want to get in the shower and scrub your skin until it burns. You want to drown his scent, his touch, the memory of his hands, his body on top of yours. But you don’t, you can’t. You can’t move from the place you’re already drowning in. 

You lay in the dark and silently sob, not doing anything to wipe the tears as they run down into your hairline because you know that there will just be more. You cry until your eyes hurt and your breathing starts to smooth out again, until you’re lulled back asleep by the wracks of your body. It feels like a cruel trick from the darkness, but you let it take you willingly. Anything to escape this nightmarish reality. 

It’s probably only a couple of hours later when you wake up again to the silence. But this time, the first thing out of your mouth is a frustrated and strangled sob. Anger warms your entire body as you throw the blanket off without thinking. You’re not really sure where the aggression comes from or what it’s directed to, so you just blame it on yourself for being weak. For waking up and crying and giving up. You want to kick yourself and tell yourself to just suck it the fuck up. 

But you can’t, so you instead slam the bedroom door open and stomp into the kitchen. Another heave leaves your lips as you enter the threshold, this one closer to a scream as tears escape you and your stomach twists painfully at the reminder of last night. Your knees give out, leaving you to sink down onto the freshly tiled floor. You soak in your anger and your hatred, and it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. It fully consumes you, making you tremble with the force of it and your teeth grind as you try and fail to bite it down.

Your hands come up and thread through your hair, pulling tightly and close to the base, but more to ground you than to pull any strands out. You can’t fall into a panic attack here, you may not come out. Javi’s the only one who can save you from that, and he’s not here. You give yourself two minutes to collect yourself, though you’re still not all the way there as you force yourself up and push toward the medicine drawer. 

With rough movements, you pull it open, snatch up the melatonin, and shakily pour four tablets into your palm. You shove them into your mouth and swallow them dry, wanting them to kick in as soon as possible. You start to screw the lid back on, but it doesn’t thread right, and you make a sound of frustration again as you say ‘fuck it’ and just shove it back onto the counter, pills spilling all over the place. You go straight back to bed, pulling the blanket up and letting yourself cry back to sleep. 

The third time, you wake in a panic, your body shaking in an aggressive and unnatural way. Your eyes snap open and find that the light is turned on, and it’s only once you feel a harsh grip on both of your arms that you comprehend someone shaking you awake. Your first instinct is to push back on the bed, struggling to get away, but the hold gets tighter as the person yells something that you can’t understand yet in your current state.

“How many did you fucking take?” Javi demands, his face coming close to yours. Tears are already leaking from your eyes as you meet his gaze, your voice stuck in your throat. You wish they would go away. It seems like it’s impossible to be awake without them accompanying you. 

“W-What?” you manage to squeeze out. He’s stopped shaking you, but he looks angry. No, not just angry, you realize as your heart contracts painfully in your chest. He looks scared.

“The pills, how many did you fucking take?” 

Your head just shakes as you try to catch up. 

“How fucking many?” He does jolt you this time, bringing you even closer. He starts to drag you off of the bed, and his fingers dig in so hard that they hurt. You yelp and jump up, trying to ease the strain. It only hits you once your feet hit the ground, what he could possibly be talking about. 

“F-Four!” you spit. “I took four!” 

He stops talking but his jaw stays set as he looks you up and down like he’s both assessing your well-being and deciding something detrimental. Your lip trembles as he looks into your eyes, and you know that the only reason you’re standing right now is because of the support of his rough hands. But you still try to back away as he brings you closer and embraces you. But it doesn’t feel right. Whereas your body used to fit together with his, it’s now like something chipped away, leaving a jagged gap. It feels so fucking wrong. 

You let him hold you for a moment before you speak. And when you do, you’re not quite sure where it comes from. You think that the words were bouncing around in your head, but you didn’t want to actually say them, you didn’t try. But they come out—quiet and trembling—but they do. 

“Let me go.” It’s spoken almost incoherently into his chest, but he goes still all the same. He doesn’t attempt to loosen his grip. 

“Javi,” you say, more confident than you figured it would be. You think it might be the anger coming forward and holding you up, lifting your voice higher. “Let me go.” 

He loosens up slowly, but keeps you in his grasp as he steps back just enough to look into your wet eyes. “What did you just say to me?” 

Anger bubbles up even more, causing you to boil over. 

“I said let me the fuck go,” you seethe, matching his firey gaze. You pull one arm away from him and he snatches you back quicker than you can blink. You’re flipped onto your stomach and your front half is pinned to the bed in a flash. 

“Let me fucking go!” you yell and thrash, fear creeping up alongside your fury. Javi’s heavy body covers yours, his grunt spilling into your ear as he uses all his weight to keep you between him and the mattress, defenseless and unable to move. The more you squirm, the tighter he holds you, his grip crushing to the point where you cry out in pain. 

He doesn’t relent until you stop struggling, and instead lay there and pant like a feral dog being forced down for a shot. His chest heaves against your back from his efforts as his hot breath fans across the side of your face. You smell a faint tinge of alcohol, but you don’t think it’s much. He must have not been home for too long. Maybe just enough for one or two beers before he saw the pills or grew curious about your absence.

“There’s something you need to understand, sweetheart,” he says quietly and so calmly that it sends a shiver down your sweaty spine. He waits to make sure you don’t have anything to say before he continues. “I’m in charge here, and you need to get that inside your dumb little head.” 

Your stomach drops with dread, your eyelids fluttering as you resist the urge to close them. Whatever part of your heart that hadn’t cracked and bruised within the last few weeks, just fell apart. You’re overcome by a sudden surge of grief, the only thing racing through your mind just keeps repeating to you that your husband is gone, lost for good. You’re alone and you’ll never see him again. Your body trembles, and Javi must recognize it as submission. 

“Everything I do is for you, whether you like it or not,” he growls. “You need to start showing some fucking respect about it.” 

You both lay there for a while, and it’s like you’re seeing it from the outside. A scared woman being pulled apart from the inside by the shell of the man who once gave her everything. She doesn’t know where he went, nor what happened for him to leave, but she knows that she’ll, too, never be the same. 

When Javi gets back up, you stay exactly where he left you. You’re not crying anymore, but you think it’s because you’re finally out of tears. Come to think of it, you don’t remember the last time you drank something. Your body is probably incredibly dehydrated. 

“I’m going to make dinner,” Javi tells you from the doorway. “Get yourself together and be at the table in half an hour.” 

You nod shallowly into the mattress, not looking at him, not looking at anything as he walks away. You don’t wait long before you numbly drag yourself into the shower, locking the bathroom door for the first time since you’ve been living with Javi. You strip, avoiding the mirror, and then crawl into the shower and just sit in the hot stream for a moment. It’s almost a little too hot, but you don’t pay too much attention to it. 

All of your energy goes into clearing your mind. You don’t want to fucking think, you just want it to stop. You let the water wash it all away; the grief, the fear, the ache, the sadness, the pain, the lingering hope and happiness that doesn’t seem to get the hint that it’s no longer welcome here. 

The next thing you now, you’re back out of the shower, your hair and body scrubbed clean. You’re towelling your wet breasts off, trying not to think about anybody else's hands on them. You never want to be touched again, now that your body has been tainted and defiled. You feel broken and disgusting. 

You jump when the doorknob rattles, your heart racing as you clutch the towel close to you. There’s a quiet sigh and then a gentle knock from the other side. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

Your legs wobble as your vision blurs. He sounds so normal that it fucking kills you. He sounds like your husband, caring and concerned. You forget to answer, stuck all alone inside your head. 

“Sweetheart?” No response comes from your lips. “I’m coming in,” he tells you. And you don’t protest, because that hope that you’d tried so hard to scrub away has somehow lingered and clung to your battered heart. 

The door starts to unlock and slowly open, and you take a step back to make room. When it’s open all the way, you catch the eyes of your husband standing in the doorway. He watches you with sympathy and something you clock as regret. He opens his arms and gives you a barely-there smile. It doesn’t reach his sad eyes, but it conveys what he’s trying to say. I’m sorry, please forgive me.

You bolt forward, immediately sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you. You want to hate yourself for how quickly you give in, but you can’t. A different person, you tell yourself. You soak up the attention he’s giving you, relief flooding your very bones as you accept his embrace. His chin comes down to rest on your head as he holds you tightly and shushes you. 

“I know, baby,” he whispers. “I know.” 

He pets your hair and brings you into the bedroom, helping you sit down on the bed as you sniffle and attempt to dry your tears. He goes to the dresser and then comes back with one of his T-shirts and a pair of your underwear and pajama shorts. You calm down as you stand and let him dress you, savoring the calmness that’s filled the air. 

When you’re dressed, he leads you into the kitchen, where he has what smells like chicken noodle soup warming on the stovetop. You sit down at the table as he makes you a bowl and brings it over to you along with a glass of water, of which you quickly gulp down half of. Your mouth waters at the smell, your empty stomach grumbling. He hands you your spoon, places a kiss to the top of your head, and takes the seat across from you. 

You eat in silence, allowing yourself to sink back into your body. The soup warms you and you find it easier to relax. The meal is spent in a comfortable silence, and Javi waits for you to finish your bowl before he talks again. 

“I invited Steve and Connie for dinner next weekend.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’d thought he didn’t like them. 

“Do you think you could make dinner Sunday night? I can pick something up, but I think they’d both be lucky to try your cooking,” he winks at you, a smile playing at his lips. 

Your cheeks heat slightly and you avoid his gaze as you smile as well, pride swelling in your chest. “Yeah, I can do that,” you tell him. “What would you like?” 

“Whatever you feel like, sweetheart.” 

You nod and get up to get another small bowl of soup. When you turn back to the table, he motions for you to come toward him. 

“C’mere, baby,” he pleads, pushing his chair out so you have room to sit on his lap. Your heart jumps to your throat out of reflex, but you walk toward him anyway, trying to quell your anxiety as you lower yourself on to him. He waits for you to get comfortable, your legs dangling off of one side of his lap. He nuzzles his face into your cheek as his hand grips your waist, and your breath hitches. 

“I hope you forgive me for earlier, baby,” he whispers. “I know I was rough. I was just so scared.” 

You lean back slightly to look at him, at the vulnerability in his eyes. You don’t even think about what happened in the bedroom as you tell him, “It’s okay, Javi. I forgive you.” You give him a weak smile and cup one side of his jaw, stroking the light stubble there. 

“I meant it, though,” he says gently. “I’ll always do what’s best for you, and I’m sorry if you don’t like that sometimes.” 

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you nod. “It’s okay,” you assure him, though your voice is barely even a whisper. You hold as still as you can as Javi leans forward and presses a barely-there kiss to your lips. He doesn’t linger, and a part of you is extremely thankful for that. 

“Alright, baby,” he says, his lips tickling your jaw. “Go ahead and finish your soup.” 

You nod and pick up your spoon. 

******

Lmk if anyone would like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

Series taglist:   @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

[wosoluver]

Falling asleep in paradise.

TW: Smut, minors DNI

Lena x reader

"I have to go schatz, it's a work get together, and I need to earn some points with my boss."

"You wouldn't have to if you you weren't always late to work."

"Really? And whose fault is that?"

"Not mine! You're the one who is sexy in the mornings. And I don't like him. Always trying to hit on you."

"Well, he can keep trying, he's never going to land anything so."

He flirted with you quite a lot, despite knowing it was inappropriate and that you were in a relationship.

You only ignored him, he was delusional if he thought you would ever give him a chance.

You went to the bathroom after getting dressed, to do your make up and hair. Lena wouldn't leave your side. Standing in the doorway, watching you.

As you were adding the last touches, pouting your lips at the mirror as you retouched you lipstick, she couldn't stop herself.

"Why are you getting so dressed up?" pouting her lips, pulling you close.

You laughed at your girlfriend, her jealousy could get a bit much sometimes, but you didn't mind, actually you found it attractive.

"Baby, I always dress like this."

"Yes, but today I won't be there if you need me. I love you liebling." whispering lovingly this time.

"Love you too, more than anything."

Her hands on your hips as she kissed your neck, trying to convince you to get in bed with her.

"I'm serious. I'll be back before you know it."

You untangled yourself before she succeeded, walking towards the front door, getting your bag and keys, and her trailing behind you.

"Bye love, no need to wait up on me." teasing her. Knowing exactly what you were doing.

"And you. Come straight home. To me." she said in a firm tone that made you instantly wet.

But you didn't give in.

Giving her a kiss you walked out the door.

"Hello, girl you look so good tonight!" - said your friend and coworker as you walked to the table.

"She always looks good." and there he was, before you had even sat down.

"Hey guys. Have you ordered anything yet?"

You greeted them as you sat in between your favorite coworkers.

Some had, some hadn't and trying to rizz you up, your boss had offered to pay for the round. Which annoyed the ones who were already having their drinks.

The night carried on fine, except you couldn't get your mind off her. You had been talking for hours. But by now you only wanted to go home, you wanted Lena.

"So Y/N, do you still have a boyfriend?"

"A girlfriend and yes. Actually I should probably get going, home to her."

He let out an annoyed sight as you got up to say goodbye to everyone.

Getting in the car and taking a deep breath, it wouldn't be long now.

You were probably a little over the speed limit on the road. But you were impatient.

As you came in, you noticed she was still up, sitting on the couch, watching something on the tv.

"Thought you weren't coming home anymore." - once again, talking in that low tone.

You walked over to her, staring down at how good she looked. She aways did. Only wearing a sports bra and shorts. You couldn't tear your eyes away from her thighs. They were almost an obsession of yours.

Getting your shoes off, she had picked up on what was going on.

"Maybe I shouldn't have." - You matched her energy, as she pulled you down to her. Setting you down, on her right thigh. One leg in each side of it.

"So horny and I haven't even said much." - she traced your lips with her thumb.

"You didn't have to, after basically saying 'come straight home so I can fuck you'."

"I was only trying to convince you to stay. I'm not sure if the offer is still up." - she whispered in your ear, as she rocked you against her leg slowly. And a moan escaped your lips.

"Lena, please."

She undressed you little by little. Enjoying the feeling of your wetness on her thigh. Letting out delicious groans.

Putting her hands on your hips as she guided you, back and forth, you made a mess, throwing your head back.

By now you were grinding hard against her. One of her hands was in your hair, her lips going from you neck to your lips, kissing, biting down your lip as you moaned out her name.

"That’s it, love. Fuck-" she says while flexing her muscles under you.

As your pace starts faltering, she moves you to straddle now both of her legs, to give you more support, as she brought her hand down between your legs, rubbing your clit and adding in two fingers, reaching for your g-spot, so she could get you to finish.

"Schatz I-"

"I know, I'm here, you can let go." she whispered softly as she left a kiss on your temple.

Finally cumming on top of her, relaxing your body and nuzzling your head on her neck, as she carried you to bed.

She got up and went to the bathroom, only to come back with a damp towel.

But you pouted, hissing at the contact, you were sensitive and the towel being somewhat cold didn't help.

"I'll be quick liebling."

And not a minute later you were already sound asleep. She pulled the covers over you.

Got changed and laid down on the other side of the bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face. Falling asleep in paradise.

This was supposed to be put out earlier, but I accidentally deleted part of it and had to rewrite it. 🩷 Also first time writing smut?!

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Birthday Wish | Jung Wooyoung

-> Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account.

-> Synopsis: Wooyoung surprises reader on her birthday.

-> Warnings: Pure self-indulgent fluff I wrote for my birthday last year.

-> Word Count: 944

-> Requests: Open.

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©️ 2024 woojoongstreasure - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

“Happy Birthday, Jagiya!” Wooyoung screamed at the top of his lungs as he enters Y/N’s bedroom, interrupting the video call she is on with her friend who is currently overseas, working abroad for a year.   

Having not heard him come into her room until he screamed, she jumped and spun around quickly to face him and scold him. “What the fuck, Woo?”  

Instead of apologizing, he smiles wide, seeming proud of himself as he holds up the cake decorated with her favorite animal, which just so happens to be foxes, towards her and repeats what he had screamed a moment ago but this time more quietly. “Happy birthday!”   

“Thank you,” She sighs knowing she can’t be mad at the man who had stolen her heart the moment they met during their trainee days.   

He places the cake on her top of her dresser, before wrapping his arms around her and placing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. She scrunches up her face feeling the wetness against her cheek. Even though she should be used to his affection, after all the years of knowing him, her cheeks still burn red, heart racing.  

“Who is that?” they hear, reminding Y/N she’s still on a video call with her friend.  

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath before picking up her phone, still wrapped in Wooyoung’s arms. “Sorry, it was just Wooyoung, coming to surprise me.”  

“That’s Wooyoung?” she questions, causing Y/N’s cheeks to grow hotter as her blush deepens. Her friend on the phone is the one she always goes to when she wants to talk about him and her massive crush on him. She’s one of the two people who know about it. While Yeosang didn’t tease her about it, her only female best friend sure did.  

“Hello,” Wooyoung leans on her shoulder, greeting her friend before she could properly introduce them.   

“Hi,” her friend greets back. “It’s nice to finally meet you but I must go. Just remembered I have a few things to do. Make sure our Y/Nnie has a lot of fun today!”  

“I definitely will!” he assures her.   

“Good,” she smiles. “I’ll talk to you later, Y/Nnie,” she adds before ending the call.  

Once the call is over, Wooyoung snatches her phone out of her hand and slides it into his pocket before picking up the cake and walking out of her bedroom without saying anything.  

“What are you doing?” she asks, following him and sounding a little annoyed. “Give me my phone back.”  

“Ya!” He growls and slaps her hand away when she tries to take it from his pocket. “You can have it back later.”  

“But what if eomma calls me,” she pouts, glaring at him.   

“I’ll talk to her,” he replies as they reach the kitchen. He puts the cake on the kitchen counter and turns to face her. “We both know that she loves me more.”  

“Only because she doesn’t have an actual son,” she scoffs. She’s the eldest of three daughters. It’s her mother who always goes on about having no sons, unlike her sister who has four sons and no daughters. “And I’m pretty sure she loves Yeosang and Yunho more than you.”  

He looks at her like she just offended him by suggesting he isn’t her mother’s favorite. He’d been the second to meet her mother, after Yeosang who’s known Y/N since they were babies, their families being neighbors since before they were born.  

“If she wants an actual son, I’ll just marry you and make it official,” he says as he rummages through one of her kitchen drawers to find the matches she keeps for her candles.  

Y/N freezes, her cheeks burning red even more than before, her heart thumping against her chest and her mind racing with thoughts that she’s unable to speak aloud due to not being able to speak at all in this moment.  

When she doesn’t say anything, he looks at her, his face the most serious she’s ever seen it. “What do you say? Should we get married?”  

“I uh... I,” her brain was malfunctioning as she tried to pull together a sentence that would make sense.  

“I should probably take you on a date first,” he says more to himself as he lights the candle on the cake. He picks it back up and brings it over to her. She’s still standing there looking at him, stunned. “Make a wish,” he adds holding the cake up higher.  

“Are you being serious?” she asks, finally able to speak even though her heart and mind are still racing. “You can’t say stuff like that if you-”  

She’s cut off by Wooyoung crashing his lips to hers, stunning her even more. “I’m being serious. I’ve been in love with you since we met too,” he tells her, his beautiful deep brown eyes boring into hers, letting her know just how serious he’s being. “We won’t get married right away but I want you to know that if we start a relationship, I’m in it for life. That includes marriage, kids, and everything else that comes with it. Now make a wish.”  

“I don’t need to anymore,” she tells him tell him before blowing out the candle. She takes the cake from him, putting it back on the kitchen counter, before pulling him in for another kiss. “I now have everything I could wish for.”  

Before Wooyoung could respond, her phone lets her know she’s got a notification. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to her. She unlocks her phone and finds a text from Yeosang.  

‘Happy Birthday, Y/Nnie! Enjoy your day with Woo. Thank me later tonight.’ 

TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @treehouse-mouse - @kpopmenace143 - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1

@deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @everythingboutkpop - @trinxt

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[sciderman]

ARE WE AFFIRMING YOUR GENDER?! IS THAT WHAT WE’RE DOING?!

Sci, first of all, I’m so sorry your dad said that listing your pronouns is embarrassing. It’s 2024. What’s embarrassing is being a parent who cares more about what other people think of them than what their child thinks of them. People don’t have to understand you, they don’t even have to agree with you, but if someone says they love you, the least they can do is make the attempt to show you they respect your identity as an individual person. I know this is particularly difficult for parents sometimes but it’s not impossible. I sincerely hope that someday your dad realizes how spectacular you are and how lucky he is to have the opportunity of knowing and loving someone as truly kind, funny, and generous as you are.

Second of all, LET’S GIVE ANOTHER SHOUT OUT TO THOSE PRONOUNS. Oooo I like the way you wear he/him. It’s loud, it’s rebellious, it’s confident, it’s authentic! It’s everything those angry white boys with podcasts WISH they were! You are entering your “boys will be boys” era and it’s covered in bright colors, zany patterns, sequins, and ATTITUDE.

I am so fucking proud of you for taking this big scary step into being your true self and laying it bare before the world. Just last night I was thinking about how one of the reasons I was so miserable in my 20s was because when I was around 21/22 I went back into the closet to make myself “more palatable” for the people around me. Less confusing for them. Less work for them. And I’ll never actually know what experiences I lost when I lost myself. I’ll never know what I could have done, the opportunities and stories and memories I missed out on because I was only living as half a person. I’m back on track now though, and the good news for you is: now that you’ve taken this step you never have to ask that question again.

I’ve gotta say, Sci, announcing your true pronouns is definitely one of the sexiest things you could ever do. And Wade agrees. <3

hooougghh bless you @nobutforrealthough - you're so cool and sexy and ough...

i feel so very exhausted in the head lately about identity things. i think a lot of people thought i was some kind of gender icon when really i'm just piecing things together as best as i can. i feel a little exhausted that people thought so much of me and i'm not delivering on it. (but i've felt that way all the time, all my life, from pretty much everybody.)

i guess it's difficult to do all this alone, without anyone in your corner. i think writing wade and peter, they sort of felt like friends to help me through it, because i don't really have anyone else out there to help me through and speak to me on my level. so – i kind of had to invent voices to give me courage. and it helps. but i worry that it's a little sad, too. sorry. i'm feeling very frank and bare this morning.

it's a lonely old world when you still haven't figured out where you fit in it. and maybe you're not meant to fit. but you kind of do need to fit, for your sanity. for your survival. so you contort and compromise and squeeze yourself into weird shapes and bug your head. and it's all so, so exhausting for me. and i think my body's finally telling me it's time to retire. my body is so, so tired...

[thesassypadawan]

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it!  Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Jim from TDS gets so fuzzy brained and dumb when he’s pounding into Y/N, because he wanted her for so long and he finally has her. he feels he deserves to have what he wants, and also making sure everyone knows she belongs to him.

Y/N could be either Jim’s son’s gf/ex-gf, Jim’s daughter’s best friend, or Jim’s best friend 🫣

Btw you’re doing such a great job with your fics!!!

Warnings: Age gap (Jim is in his 40s, reader between 18-25), p in v, Jim’s a bad dad, unprotected sex, creampie, stalking social media, mentions of masturbating, taking inappropriate photos without consent, hickies

Thank you for the request I had a lot of fun with this! Hope you enjoy!❤️

Jim was reclined in his bed, his hand massaging his hardened member while he scrolled through social media photos of you. He was completely fucked ever since the day his son brought you home and may or may not have developed unhealthy coping mechanisms that his son had what he couldn’t.

Even in his dreams he could see your attractive silhouette, continuously replaying fake scenarios of you straddling him, on your knees batting those innocent lashes up at him begging for his cock.

You had him wrapped around your fucking finger without even knowing, you were completely and utterly hypnotizing.

“Fuck y/n..” He kept replaying a video on the beach, only thing covering you was a skimpy little bikini. Jim could just imagine what was underneath, reminiscing how even when he lay in the sun tanning chair, he couldn’t help but snag a few photos when you weren’t paying attention.

Position of you bent over picking up pebbles from the sand, when you came up for air from the water, specs of water droplets painting your chest, running down your cleavage.

He needed to have you, wanted to be entangled in the sheets with you, hearing you moan his name lustfully, screaming as he made you cum.

Your body was so young, hardly flawed, and had curves in all the right places. He hated to see you leave the house but loved to watch you walk away.

In the midst of coming to his high, the door slammed downstairs and he could hear yelling, what sounded to be you.

Curious, and for caution he pulled up his pants, huffing in irritation that he was interrupted from his intrusive, sexual imaginations.

“You are such an ass! Just because I enjoyed an evening with my friends doesn’t give you the right to go out with some random girls to some party and kiss them! You’re ridiculous, did you even think about me for a singular moment?!” This was the moment Jim had been waiting for, as awful as it may sound, he wanted you two to break up. He wanted the opportunity to arise for him to be there when you’re upset, knowing that there was a chance for you two to be together.

Jim wasn’t stupid, there were many times where you “accidentally” brushed past him inappropriately, there were plenty of stolen glances and obscene gestures whenever his son Caleb wasn’t around. You wanted him just as much, but due to your relationship with his son, you hadn’t gone any further. He’d constantly have to excuse himself to the restroom to deal with the repurcussions, seeking out a sweet release.

“You’re over reacting, besides I’ve been meaning to put an end to this dwindling flame. We were never going to work so figured, why not just end it the easy way.” Jim was in shock that Caleb would do such a thing to a girl, especially you. He had taught him better than that, granted he did cheat on his mother but that was besides the point.

Hearing footsteps run up the stairs followed by a door slam, Jim poked his head out hearing your sniffles from downstairs. What kind of man would he be to not check in and ensure you were okay?

“Y/N?” You were seated on the cushioned sofa, mascara flowing messly down your cheeks from weeping, but that voice…that masculine, caring, attractive voice had your glancing up from your emotional turmoil.

Jim was standing there in his pajama pants and black t-shirt, his reading glasses tucked in the hem of his shirt while his peppery hair was slightly disheveled.

“Oh I’m sorry, I was just going to head out. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no. Stay please. My son’s an idiot and I can assure you I didn’t raise him to be that way.” He took a seat next to you, trying to act concerned when in reality his eyes kept glancing at your thighs, the way your skirt hardly covered anything. Keep it together Jim, jesus.

The close proximity and the smell of Jim’s cologne was raising the tension, and an idea popped into your head. If Caleb thought he had the right to hurt you, you would hurt him ten times worse.

Jim’s crystal blue, alluring eyes were locked on your in a transfixed state of mind, heart pumping with adrenaline when he settled his hand on your thigh in a way to “comfort” you.

He was radiant, smart, and overwhelmingly attractive for a man in his forties. When he touched you, goosebumps formed on your skin, breath hitching in your throat. Was this a bad idea, most likely, but temptation and profound desire had a hold of you both.

“I um- I always thought you were a nice girl Y/N, and beautiful, kind, sexy- fuck what the fuck am I saying.” He wanted to hit himself for his stammering of words, rolling off his tongue without even thinking, but you simply laughed, blushing from his clear embarassment. When he tried to pull away his hand, you moved it back further up just nearly underneath your skit.

“Jim, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always thought you were quite sexy too, I mean fuck you’re a total dilf and I’ve always imagined what you looked like underneath those clothes. How fucked up is that? My own boyfriend- well ex’s dad.” You glanced down at the floor, eyes skimming the carpet trying to find a way to justify your feelings, that they weren’t morally wrong.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he slid his finger down the length of your warm neck, gaining your attention.

There was a momentous silence as you stared into one another eyes, an immense sense of crave and desire coursing through your veins.

Closing the distance, you smashed your lips against Jim’s, hands settled on his cheeks needing him desperately. At that moment the air in the room seemed to disappear, the oxygen slowly didsapating from Jim’s lungs. He was in disbelief that this was actually happening, he was kissing his son’s ex girlfriend who he’d been masturbating to all summer long.

Your lips were soft, smoothe, and you were surprisingly good at kissing for how young you were. Unable to resist, his tongue lapped inbetween your lips as he pulled you onto his lap, his hardened cock rutting against your dripping mound desperately needing you, forgetting Caleb was just upstairs.

He held you like a woman, his hands grasping at the chubby skin of your ass cheeks underneath your skirt, roaming and massaging the delicate skin roughly.

“Fuck Y/N… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment…” Your lips roamed down to the crook of his neck, sucking and rotating your tongue, surely leaving a mark causing him to release a disgruntled groan.

Your hands fumbled with his belt, craving to be filled with his cock while your pussy throbbed in your panties, slick merely dripping from your cunt.

Shedding yourself of your shirt, Jim’s eyes widened from the sight of your well rounded, perfect tits, they were everything he had imagined them to be and more.

His hands grasped the jiggly skin, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head in satisfaction. Hold it together Jim, what would she think if you busted just from the sight of her fucking tits, pathetic man.  

His brain seemed to turn to a puddle, any prior thoughts lost from your hypnotizing body. He had to have you right then and there.

“Well, are you going to fuck me or not, because I really…” You trailed off you sentence, running a singular finger down his lip, eyes focused on him with a lustful gaze as you grinded against his lap, needing more.

“Really, need you inside me, my pretty pussy aches for you Jim.” Within second he flipped you onto your back, shedding himself of his clothes and tearing down your skirt and panties down in a animalistic frenzy.

He had never seen such a perfect cunt in his life, so in tact, so beautiful, and dripping for him, god how his dick was felt like it was going to burst any minute. His size took you by surprise, Jim wasn’t small by any means, his cock a good eight maybe nine inches, this was going to be fun.

Your hand grazed the back of his neck, pulling him down just so your lips brushed against his ear.

“Hope your cock is better than your son’s, wouldn’t want to be dissapointed.” He took that as a challenge, one that he knew very well he was going to win.

“My son, doesn’t seem to know how to pleasure his woman and I’m going to make sure he and everyone else knows who fucked you right.” Your eyebrow quirked up in interest.

“Well go on then, fuck me like no other man could.” Jim had never been this nervous in his life to fuck a woman, but you- you he didn’t want to leave unsatisfied. 

He didn’t even need to glance down before pushing the head of his thick shaft deep inside of you, claiming you as his.

You gasped from the sudden intrusion, nail’s scraping against the muscles on Jim’s back. He smirked satisfyingly, leaning down to kiss you once more, shoving his tongue roughly into your mouth, desperately needing to explore every inch of you, craving more and more.

He pumped quickly into you, patience being non existent, the feel of your hot, indisputably tight walls clenching to his length. Your boobs bounced with each powerful thrust. His lips trailed down to the warmth of your neck, tenderly sucking lavender marks into your smoothe skin, needing people to know who you belonged to now.

“Oh Jim, more, more, please…” Oh the velvet, captivating sound of your strained moan had his horny brain whirling, eyes merely fluttering closed from the sweet descent of your exasperated tone.

Your pussy was throbbing from pleasure, being filled to the brim like no other man had fucked you before.

Your fingers intertwined in his hair, scrunching at his gray, partially wavy hair, pressing him against your body as he fucked you relentlessly. His free hand cusped at the cushiony skin of your boob, rolling the jelly like skin.

He needed to see you in another position, he need to see himself filling your cunt.

Standing up causing you to whine from the empty feeling, he picked you up with his strong arms effortlessly as if you weighed nothing before bending you over the sofa.

“Oh!” Jim slapped your ass and pulled your head back aggresively by the strands of your hair, plumetting his cock into your heated, tight walls simultaneously.

“Fuck! Fuck Jim! Ah!” He didn’t hold back, striking deep within your aching core over and over, his balls slapping against your skin with each powerful thrust. He had never seen an ass bounce back against him so poetically and perfectly, he was nearly salivating on the mouth looking down at you bent over on display for him and only him. Watching your pussy swallow his dick with each desperate rut, god you were stunning.

Hearing you man his name and take his cock so well was sending him over the edge, his dick pulsating in you before he even had the chance to think. 

As you pounded your ass back against him, your bottom lip was becoming increasingly swollen from how much your teeth had been biting at it from the immense pleasure.

“Jesus, you’re fucking amazing, fucking beautiful, taking my cock so fucking well. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You Jim. All yours, completely yours. I-I’m going to-Ah-“ He slapped your ass cheek fiercely once more, focusing on the way you moaned his name, the way your back arched as you came undone.

Your knuckes turning white from the grip they had on the cushioned surface, toes curling from your orgasm. The euphoric, alluring sensation taking over every part of your body.

That didn’t stop Jim from going to pound town. Slamming your hips down against him, rutting desperately and bottoming out deep within your dripping, aching cunt. He wad close.

“Gonna fucking cum- want me to fill you up love. Hm? Having my cum spilling out of you like a faucet for days.” You nodded desperately moaning for him to cum at the sound of his gruff voice

“Jim, Jim, please. I need your cum, need you to paint my fucking insides white, right now. Now.” At that moment you could feel his thick cock pulsate within your core, his cum shooting straight up into your cervix.

“Fuck, fuck y/n… I’m fucking cumming.” The sweat beaded at your forhead, his own dripping down from his hair onto your back.

He had never felt a high so unfathomably pleasurable, he finally felt like he had accomplished what he always wanted- needed to. You were finally his. 

Pulling out he stretched your cunt, pulling the sensitive, reddened skin apart with his large digits, seeing the art he had created with his milky white cum flowing freely out of your alluring pussy that was still twitching from your orgasm.

Caleb turned and twisted in his bed, the constant strange sounds keeping him up. Deciding to investigate, he grabbed the bat from his room before making his way downstairs only to be blindsided with his own dad intertwined with his now ex-girlfriend whom was covered with hickies on her neck

“What the fuck is this?! How did this-How could-“

“That’s how you treat a woman son. Maybe take notes because let me tell you, she’s a keeper this one.” You smirked on the couch, nuzzling your nose against his chest being fully happy with your decision to sleep with your ex’s father. He was already proving to be more of a man than Caleb ever was.

“Ready for bed love?” Jim held his hand out for you, wrapping his robe around your shoulders while Caleb stood there fuming at the actions of his own father and you, disbelief that you’d go this far, making him question if you ever really gave a shit about him or just dated him for his dad.