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songmingisthighs · 23 days

Text

Missing Out

group : ateez

pairing : dilf!mingi × reader

genre : smut

wc : 4.1 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut; daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, age gap (mingi's like mayhaps at least a decade older, but both are still within legal limits), thigh riding, spitting, alcohol consumption (not to the point of being drunk, it's just for vibes and... spitting lmao),

a/n : frfr i hope he doesn't see this fic because God i would not be able to defend myself. tbh i planned on posting this on mingi's bitthday but i got shit happening to me. shit without my consent and I'm just trying to ride the stress like gandalf hopped up on cocaine riding smaug. so ykw i decided to post this on my birthday instead lmao. special thanks to @kitten4sannie for listening to me drop some ideas while i was on a road trip, i did some adjustments but it's still sexually frustrated dilf!mingi this fic is finally out so i hope you and everyone enjoy it <3

a/n/n : i take no responsibilities for any calf cramp that may or may not happen but alyssa, i still blame you for the great leg cramp at ass o'clock

a/n/n/n : my birthday sucks because it felt more like public service than anything but i got ticket to go to singapore again so i'll be reunited with my little brother and little sisters soon✌️ i'm raising money for my mental wellbeing which is so totally code for i'm trying to find a way to make my shituation better by making myself just the slightest bit happier after today's shenanadoodles

buy me coffee ?

After the day Mingi had, the cold drink in his hand felt like the reward he deserved. It was only then that Mingi realized why people always say that the Family Court is rough. Still, of course, it was extra rough for him because his ex-wife, the horned creature incarnate (a goat, not the devil), had dragged his name through the mud just to get the maximum alimony because she was a narcissistic bum with no life skill to fall back to as if Mingi was the one who told her to quit her job as a dental hygienist when they first got married.

During the mediation meetings and court proceedings, she took all of the potshots she could While no one took her seriously, it still pained Mingi because the more she and her lawyer attacked him, calling out all of his insecurities and questioning his character, the more obvious it was that Mingi had wasted 9 years of his life on this loser and he missed out on all of the marital milestones. The main sore spot was having kids. She argued that putting her body through pregnancy was out of the question because there were risks that could cause her body to look weird in the future and it's inhumane how a woman's body had to contort in such a way to accommodate another living being. But when her breast implant popped when she slammed the car door too hard, it was 'a normal occurrence'.

As much as his friend Yunho told him not to, Mingi couldn't help but wallow in the time he absolutely WASTED on the bitch only to be screwed over. The only good thing that came out of the divorce was the fact that he got out of it without having to pay alimony because his ex-wife had become too cocky with her cards. But still, Mingi had to give her the car, the savings account (that wasn't much compared to anything considering she had drained it to accommodate her filler addiction and alcohol dependency), and Tony Son, their personal trainer, the one thing Mingi could credit her because she had been the one who introduced him to the man who was able to sculpt his body to perfection.

"Is this seat taken?"

Mingi snapped his head to the side to see a woman younger than he, dressed in a tight-bodiced red sparkly dress that showed just enough cleavage for it to be classy rather than trashy and the A-line satin skirt stopped just three fingers width atop her knees. Slowly, Mingi nodded and gestured to the seat on his right side wordlessly. It wasn't until the woman flagged down the bartender and ordered her drink did Mingi questioned why she sat next to him when there were other seats in the bar.

"So, are you alone?" she asked, striking up a conversation with Mingi which honestly caught him by surprise because he had been told that he had a resting bitch face that doubled in intensity when he wasn't in the mood and he was doubling in his bad mood. "Yeah... I am, so..." his words allude to him wanting to be alone, but there was something about the person next to him that intrigued him so much so that his eyes seemed to be glued to her. Just the sight of her drinking her vodka cranberry made Mingi's eyes travel from her face down to her lap, watching the way she moved so gracefully. "So... You don't mind my asking why a man as handsome as you are would be sitting alone with a scowl on his face," she pointed out, forcing Mingi to consciously unfurrow his eyebrows and fake taking a sip of his drink, "I'm not scowling, I'm just tired and pissed off for wasting 9 years on a selfish bitch that deprived me of anything I want in life," he spat venomously, even the slight mention of his ex sent a really unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?" She pouted, inching closer to Mingi as somewhat of a signal. Noticing this, Mingi scoffed and shook his head but he still entertained the woman, "Got a time machine to help me undo the past 9 years?" "No, but maybe I can give you what your ex couldn't."

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when the look of shock on Mingi's face melted into intrigue. You had been watching him for an hour, sitting all alone, nursing his one drink as he toyed with his ring before chucking it into his breast pocket. Thank God he did because you were not about to approach a potentially spoken-for man. It took you a while to get substantial evidence of his status and it wasn't just because you were distracted by his plump ass in those slacks and the matching suit jacket and slightly unbuttoned black dress shirt didn't help your case.

"Little girl, I think I'm a bit too... Far for your reach," Mingi pointed out, raising an eyebrow at you as he wasn't sure that you knew what you were offering him. Mirroring him, you raised your eyebrow and shifted so that you faced him fully as you raised one leg and cross it over the other, successfully inviting Mingi to get a glimpse of more skin. "You don't know me or what I can do, sir," you smirked challengingly, now openly inviting him to poke you further.

You were delighted when you saw Mingi's jaw clench and throat bob after you called him sir. It was proof to you that Mingi had some sort of inclination of being in control and his little confession about not getting what he wanted from his ex-wife might be a glimpse of the kind of fun you could get from him. So without hesitation, you decided that you were going home with him.

Surprisingly, Mingi responded positively by leaning in to cup your chin and pull you close, just a wispy breath away from having your lips meet and you so desperately wanted to taste his because they just looked so damn juicy and plump. "You don't want to know all the things I've been deprived of... Baby." Your eyes darken and your legs crossed tighter to suppress the sudden arousal washing over your core, excited at the confirmation that Mingi was playing into your games just as you had wanted. All you needed to do was lock this down. So you let your hand lay on his thigh, squeezing it suggestively and enjoying the feeling of his muscle tensing underneath you each time your hand slid closer to his crotch to the point that your nail was scratching the inner side of his thigh just right. Despite being physically affected by you, Mingi still maintained eye-contact, daring you to poke his button just right.

"Yes, I do... Daddy."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi smashed his lips on you and all of the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs in one go. His lips were soft but the way he used them was rough yet calculated. You could taste the smoky whiskey on his tongue as he slipped it inside your mouth. Little did you know, he too, was enjoying the way you tasted. Your lip gloss had a sweetness to it that made him wonder if you're the type to plan things or if it was just a happy coincidence. He also took note of how you allowed him to lead you and the more he asserted himself onto you with every nibble of his lip and every caress of his tongue, showing that you're more on the submissive side and he likes it. A lot. The more you felt pleasure, the more you pleasured him back as evidenced by your hand rubbing against his raging boner.

Mingi smirked at the way you whimpered when he finally pulled away from you to slap a couple bills on the counter before he got off the stool, pulling you along with him. You wobbled slightly but Mingi immediately pulled you flush on his chest and despite having just made out with him, you found the gesture very hot. "Wanna go see if you can keep up with the list of things I missed out on?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mingi must be some kind of a business owner because no way he would have had a rather impressive office where you found yourself in. Well, on top of him on his couch, grinding your panty-less core against his thigh with your top down, allowing the older man to ogle at your tits as you tried to make yourself cum.

"Is that the best you can do?" Mingi taunted, circling his crystal glass which produced a tinkling sound from the ice in the drink he poured as soon as you reached his home. "Daddy, I want you to touch me," you whined but your hip was still relentlessly moving after making a big deal of how his thighs were so strong and you wanted to sit on them like a throne. So instead of just sitting, Mingi told you to make yourself useful and prep your pussy without his help and he wanted you to do it by riding his thigh. His thick, glorious thigh. "Don't you want to touch me, daddy?" you teased, cupping your boobs and tweaking your own nipples whilst throwing your head back, making a show out of it just to get Mingi to touch you. Sure, Mingi was intrigued, but he knew damn well that he was holding the reigns and he had to hold himself back from jumping at the opportunity to completely ravish you too soon. "I do, baby, but you're being a brat right now and refusing to listen to me. Had I wanted that, I would've stayed with my ex-wife." Your head snapped back up at the mention of his ex-wife and you glared at his smug smirking face, "You have me half naked on your lap and you still mentioned your ex-wife?" you gathered your skirt in your hand, exposing your cunt to Mingi's eyes and slowed your pace to a prolonged drag that left long, dark stain courtesy of your arousal.

Finding your petulance adorable, Mingi chuckled and pulled you in for a searing kiss with one hand cupping your chin and the other slapping you on the ass as if telling you to speed up your movement. "You're an adorable little doll and I'm gonna break you," he muttered against your lips before you could reply to him, Mingi tugged your hair back as he casually took a sip from his drink. The action made you yelp and Mingi swiftly leaned over and spit the drink into your mouth and clamped your jaw shut. "Swallow," he commanded and as you came down from being surprised, you stared into Mingi's eyes. At first, you only stared at him, feigning defiance just for fun and Mingi found that both intriguing and annoying. His grip moved to tightly grasp your jaw and he growled, "Swallow. It." He demanded in a stern voice that made your panties more damp as your cunt clench, leaving you unable to do anything more than whine and swallow the burning liquid. Mingi found you very mesmerizing even on an act as simple as you taking heed of his words. The stray spit and alcohol that trickled from the corners of your lips enhanced the glimmer of your smudged lipstick and lipgloss combo, turning Mingi on with how effortlessly sultry you looked. He was down and he was down bad. He wasn't even sure if he was down because Once the liquid was no longer there, you rolled out your tongue to proudly show your obedience and Mingi let out a shuddered breath seeing you just blindly following his orders like the good puppet you are.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."

In a flash, Mingi flipped you both around so that you were trapped underneath him with your head strategically on the armrest. The elevation allowed you to watch as Mingi dragged a hand down your body as if you were a work of art. "All this time... I was missing a lot all this time, that bitch took nine years out of me and gave me nothing," Mingi shuddered both in anger and in arousal. The contrasting thoughts between being so angry at his former partner and the excitement of being rewarded by being able to ravish you felt like waves crashing inside him. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It got his adrenaline pumping and God, he felt alive. "Poor baby," you purred all the while slowly popping the buttons of his dress shirt off to reveal the soft skin underneath, "You're so frustrated, It's a good thing I'm here now huh?"

You swung your leg up and used the tip of your toe to tilt Mingi's chin upwards maintaining a somewhat neutral expression but the twinkle in your eyes indicated clear intrigue. "Tell me all the things you want to do. What do you want most?" the question made Mingi roll his eyes back and he grabbed your leg by your ankle. "You nasty slut, you want to have an older cock so bad you're enticing me with empty promises, huh?" He mumbled against the skin of your leg, trailing his lips down from the heel and lower to your calf as his body followed down until he eventually stopped at the mid-section of your inner thigh. You helped him by flipping your skirt up, exposing your cunt wholly to him and slotting the leg you lifted on his shoulder, "Empty promises? I want to give you whatever you want daddy, and in order for me to be able to do that, I need to know what it is."

Thinking that he had nothing to lose anyway, Mingi smirked and decided to test you. "I want a baby," he stated, "I want to put my baby in you," he said oh so casually as if he hadn't had his fingers poking and prodding your cunt like they just belonged there. Truthfully speaking, Mingi was expecting you to push him off and ran away screaming because what kind of a hookup just casually dropped a bomb as big as he did?

But it seemed like Mingi's luck was turning around for the better because you replied by reaching forward to free his cock from his pants, trying as best as you could to suppress the surprise at Mingi's size (but failing as evidenced by the way your eyes bulged slightly and your tongue peeking out to lick your bottom lip in hunger) before you leaned back and opened your legs widely as an invitation for him. "Then do it, fuck me so hard and dumb and deep that I'd have no other choice but to have your baby," you smiled up at him. Mingi could only stare at you in shock initially, not really knowing what you meant until you whined and pulled him closer using the leg that was hooked on his shoulder. "Daddy, don't make me wait too long. Come on, put a baby in me!" you pleaded, cunt throbbing with eagerness to feel Mingi's cock stretching you now that you already caught a glimpse.

The shock melted away from Mingi's face and even as he was guiding his cock to your core, he was still carefully watching your face, not wanting to waste any twitch or shift in your face from feeling him but also he was trying to be careful in case you showed him any indication of regret or if you changed your mind. But the way you whined and rolled your hips so your wet cunt could meet his cock more gave him the green light.

"You dirty slut," Mingi grunted before he shoved his length inside you in one fluid movement. The accumulating arousal from you riding his thigh provided proper lubrication but his sheer size was not something you're used to so your body tensed up at the impact. "F-fuck, daddy, y-you-" "Am I tearing you apart, baby? Are you being split into two on daddy's fat cock?" he asked in faux worry that was just him being condescending towards you. But you don't care, you found it hot even when he talked down to you as if you were nothing but his plaything. "Yes, yes, daddy, I'm being split open on your cock but I love it! I love it so much!" you moaned, hands clawing at his skin, causing red streaks to appear from the pressure of your nails, "Fuck, I want more!"

With that, Mingi pushed your legs up by your thighs, exposing more of your lower half to him. "Be daddy's good girl and hold these open, I wanna see your pussy taking my cock raw," he hissed, eyes zeroing on the way your puffy lips split open to accommodate his size. Carefully, as if assessing a great piece of art, Mingi watched attentively The view almost brought tears to his eyes but he channeled the somewhat endearing moment into fucking you stupid into the mattress.

Each drag of Mingi's cock felt like fire against your inner walls. Although there was a slight discomfort with each movement, the added pleasure of being filled like you had never before made you addicted.

If you thought you were enjoying yourself, Mingi was very close to combusting and he was trying his best to not cum too soon as he didn't wanna be branded as the geezer who came too early. But he couldn't help it, not with the way both his ego and his cock were stroked. It was as if you were made for him and he felt that the moment he entered your sopping cunt. So Mingi shifted his focus to you instead, working to get you to cum first.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. I need you to cum first so you'd be ripe and open for me to fill you up," Mingi huffed, pressing his pointy nose against the junction of your neck that sent tingles down your spine, "We need to do our best to make sure that you'd be good and pregnant, right?" The weight of his words caused your head to spin as the thought of him filling you full for his own pleasure filled your mind. "Yes, yes daddy, make me cum please," you whined into his ears, your body reacting almost automatically by rolling your hips against his own to match his speed and desire. Mingi growled hungrily and his pace quickened significantly as the impact got harder. You were sure that after this your ass would be different shades of red and blue but you couldn't care less. Especially if Mingi wanted to do more rounds with you, you'd gladly wear the bruises like a badge of honor.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this, you're so hot when you're willing and submissive for me," Mingi grunted, even verging on whining into your ears because you just felt so good to him but he held firm, "Are you close, baby? Are you cumming soon?" Lucky for him, you nodded hurriedly, confirming that you were close. Your brain had been marinating in the dizzying arousal that it was embarrassingly quick for you to nearly reach your climax in a rather short time. However, your response was deemed lacking to Mingi who wanted to hear a verbal response from you. Mingi was quick to slap you hard on your left tit as a punishment, feeling the need to chastise you for simplifying your response.

The words died on Mingi's tongue and his hips sharply halted to a stop when he saw you yelp and shudder before coming completely undone underneath him, writhing pathetically as your nails grazed his skin, leaving red streaks for Mingi to show off for days on end. His eyes darken when he saw tears pooled in your own eyes before dropping, creating the illusion of your eyes sparkling which served a rather complex combination of innocence and sinful. "M-M- Daddy," you whimpered in almost a hushed tone, barely comprehensible but to Mingi the sound was thunderous in Mingi's ears, ringing, because his baby girl needed him. His baby girl wanted him. His baby girl who's willing to give him anything he could ask for was longing for him. So who is he to deny you?

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state seemed to unlock something primal in Mingi because while you were reeling down from your orgasm, Mingi was instead put into some sort of a trance. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, slightly hoping that he could taste your sweetness in the air, and his hips restarted with a pace so hard and quick, for a moment you forgot that Mingi was a human.

The pleasure from your orgasm tripled with the additional friction continuously given by Mingi whose head was flooded with the thought of truly possibly getting you pregnant from this first time. Not that he was planning on only fucking you once, not after he felt how good you made him feel both emotionally and physically. He was planning to pamper you to death and maybe that was the sexually frustrated side in him but he didn't care, he didn't care how crazy he was because you were the one who made him crazy.

The sound of hips snapping together in a rhythm accompanied by your drunk-like moans sounded like a symphony in Mingi's ears. "F-fuck baby, I'm gonna fill you up now," Mingi grunted, his eyes closing and his forehead dropping to your shoulder, "I'm gonna fill you up with my seed to the brim and you're gonna be a good girl and keep it all in so my baby can grow safely inside of you, okay?" He whispered so intimately against your shoulder that both your lips and cunt wept. You wouldn't be surprised if there was a pool underneath you after you were done and you won't hesitate to ask for more. "Cum, daddy. Cum inside me. Fill me up so hard and full like you promised me!" You whined, your hands snaking around his shoulders to hold tight as the overstimulation caused a tingling pain that made your toes curl while Mingi was getting such a high from his ego being fed.

"Fuck, baby girl, this is it, I'm gonna put my baby in you!" Mingi grunted and thrusted, once, twice, thrice, before his hips stuttered and you felt a gush of warmth spilling deep inside your cunt. The physical feeling of being filled up made your eyes roll into your head and the realization of what just happened made you blush as if you weren't whoring for his cock not 10 minutes ago.

As Mingi slowly came down from his high, his mind cleared up and he was able to pepper kisses from your shoulders, up your neck, along your jawline, and then gently all over your face. The contrast of the sweetness of the older man and the nasty act you both just did made you suddenly turn all giggly and shy. "Aww, come on, are you trying to get away from me?" Mingi smirked, trying to chase another kiss from your lips but you kept dodging him, "That's pretty absurd considering I still have my cock inside of you, plugging you full." Your eyes widened at the vulgarity of his chosen words and you couldn't help but smack him on the shoulder but fail to hold back a giggle, "Don't say it like that!" "Like what? Like the way it is?" Mingi teased, pushing himself up to trail a finger on your stomach which made your breath hitch and your muscle to tense, "I need to make sure you really do get pregnant so you can give me my baby just like I wanted," his voice trailed as his fingers drew patterns on your skin almost lovingly and the nonsensical side of you wanted to believe that he was showing his affection to you. You figured that there was only one way to find out.

Without missing a beat, you took his finger that was tracing your skin into your mouth and start licking around as if it was a lollipop, effectively causing Mingi's attention to shift to your face and his cock to twitch inside you. "Who said we're only gonna try this once, daddy? You're gonna fuck me as much as you like until I'm good and pregnant."

The smirk that bloomed on Mingi's face was devilish and almost menacing, showing his genuine intention to get wamhat he wanted.

"I hope you'd never ask. I'm gonna fuck you all night long and you're gonna be a good girl and take it all with no complaint."

As if you'd say no.

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badkitty3000 · 7 months

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Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

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istoleyoursk1n · 9 months

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How would the boys react to gn touch starved Tav who always asks for his permission before doing anything? They would respect his boundaries if he said no!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would the boys react to a touch-starved Tav?

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“I’m… not quite sure what this is, but it's lovely isn't it? Who knew something as sweetly sickening as intertwined fingers was… just enough if not perfect for me. Thank you, darling.”

He hardly even noticed how touch-starved you were at first. He was far used to people leaning into his touch and whatnot, he even considered himself to be quite the addictive drug.

He’s been ‘touched’ for so long that at this point your cravings for said touch went over his head.

He was perfectly capable of masking himself once more in favor of doing whatever it is you wish, he had initially assumed you wanted what most asked from him.

He was pleasantly surprised when he realized the type of intimacy you craved went beyond just simple carnal pleasures. A soft embrace, a gentle hand in hand, basic gestures he never once had the time to relish.

Little by little his own walls had started to fall in favor of this newly found intimacy that he finds himself adoring. He is more than willing to satiate all your touch-filled cravings if he gets to feel this sudden twinkling joy.

I doubt he would be the one initiating such a gentle form of intimacy just yet but he would be more than happy to provide if you ever ask.

One way or another, he finds himself far happier when you're locked in each other’s arms. A win/win overall seeing as you get to receive all the soft physical intimacy you've longed for and Astarion gets to learn the tenderness that can come with this particular type of intimacy.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Hm. Pardon me if I come across as a tad bit strong... But I find myself wanting to keep you close. To hold you through darkened nights in blissful peace, it won't be better than any dream I could ever conjure… of course, that is if you’ll have me.”

It did take him a while to pick up on how touch-starved you truly were. All he truly gave you at first was a friendly pat on the shoulder but he was more so waiting until you were comfortable enough for more.

He wouldn't outright ask if you were touch starved, but you’d find him often asking you for permission to give you a quick little hug or a playful high five. Anything that could stimulate you really.

He’d ease you into it, not wanting to cross a boundary or overwhelm you with physical affection, especially since the mission ahead should have been top priority.

Regardless, he sits next to you whenever he can, always making sure that he's allowed to do so but otherwise, he's quite comfortable being near you and he hopes you feel the same.

It won't take long for him to slowly make his way into gentle caresses such as wistful kisses against the back of your palm. Nothing too drastic yet, but he's definitely being far more intimate in where he chooses to hold you.

Though, one of his favorite things to do with you is lead you into a peaceful waltz. It would be underneath the brilliant glow of the moonlight, with either you or him leading the sentimental little dance.

Nevertheless, a touch from Wyll will always be one filled with unspoken declarations of love, a love so delicate and sweet that he had only reserved for you.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“I could list down a thousand reasons as to why I’ve grown to be undoubtedly entranced by your every touch, and a thousand more as to why not a single part of you would ever go unloved again.”

‘You too?’

He’s lived in a tower all by himself for an incredibly long time, he gets it.

Though I doubt he’d notice your own touch-starved needs just yet, especially if you're shy about it. He’s keeping his hands to himself out of respect for you so not much touching would occur.

Going beyond just small talk and the occasional banter with you has crossed his mind multiple times, but he doesn't quite know how to express such a thing without completely humiliating himself.

He wanted to ensure that you carry somewhat of an interest in him before he flat-out decides to ask to hold your hand.

Or he’d be plain sneaky and ever so carefully guide your hands and body every time he teaches you a new magic trick. Of course, it would be with your permission, but these moments would be completely ingrained in his mind for a long time.

He’s practically been craving to be close to you as much as you’ve been craving to be touched. Discovering how touch-starved you are is only something that draws him closer to you.

Suddenly he’s off giving you the faintest of kisses, allowing his touches to linger longer than usual till he’s finally got you in his arms.

Now you both can't seem to stop clinging to one another at any given chance. Both of you have been touch-starved because of your own reasons but at least you have each other now.

One thing is for sure, the wizard of Waterdeep has fallen completely for you, cherishing every touch he receives from you and happily giving the same gentle caresses right back.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“The fact that a body as stunning as yours has gone untouched for so long bewilders me. You are deserving of every caress, every embrace, and every sweet kiss I could possibly give to someone whose beauty rivals the prettiest of flowers.”

Give him a moment but he could have probably sensed how touch-starved you must be. By the way, you come just a bit closer than usual or allow your own touches to stay far more than normal.

But he wouldn't like to assume so quickly, he might have been reading it all wrong in the end.

He's already had a hard time keeping his hands to himself in your presence but for you? He’d be as respectful as he possibly can. He’d never do anything without your consent.

Though his bated breath and his drumming heart were a tad bit too obvious to conceal. He was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, a heart he was more than willing to give to you.

He was a bit shaken when he was finally allowed to touch you as if he’d be aching for you for days (he has).

He tries his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can, but he's hesitant to even let go of you now that you’re finally in his grasp.

You feel warm in his hands, a warmth he wants to keep close for as long as possible. He's utterly enamored by you and is completely transfixed to touching every part of you.

There's not an inch of you that hasn't been grazed by his calloused hands, and yet he always seems to never tire from having you.

Being with you is a precious delight he had never expected to receive, and the fact that your touch starved only fuels his need to be near you.

A little sweet bonus from Halsin is that his fuzzy bear form would be enough to engulf you during those cold nights, covering you with his warmth and having you snuggle close to him as much as you want!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #astarion #wyll #gale #halsin

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furiousgoldfish · 2 months

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Hitting children will make children believe harming them is normal. I remember as a child, I would cause pain to myself without thinking twice, or even considering there could be anything wrong with it; after all, everyone else was eager to cause me pain and treated it as normal. I grew up thinking that any form of being harmed, and self-harm was normal behaviour because it was so common and normal for me. I couldn't understand when others would get upset seeing a mark or an injury, it was just what was done, a normal part of my life.

A child used to being hit will not question when their bullies hit them, nor when their friends do. They will feel normal with a partner who violates and hits them because it's what they're already used to. And is this the point of parenting? To have a child who doesn't think twice before harming themselves, and having others harm them? Is this what you want your child's life to be, abusive friendships, relationships, and self harm, treated as normal, dismissed and even ridiculed?

If you are not able to teach your child that anyone lifting a finger at them is wrong, you've failed your job as a parent. If your child sees violence as an everyday occurrence, they never had a parent, they were left on their own in the hands of violence.

Self harm can cause addiction and ultimately death, it's not something to normalize or laugh about. It's not something to teach your child as acceptable or normal. It's not something you do to gain a rush of power and control, while your child learns that being beaten down is correct to do to them if someone is angry, or annoyed, or just having a bad day. To consistently use violence against a child will put them in the endless fight-or-flight state, their life will be one of constant anticipation of violence, and inability to relax. This not only means they won't be able to enjoy their life, have normal growth, have a normal childhood, focus and learn as they want to, make connections with other people, or feel safe, their brain chemistry will change into the one that doesn't allow them to relax or calm down until they've experienced pain.

A child who needs pain to feel normal is not the end goal of parenting, it's a despicable thing to do. It's against human nature. If you did this to your child, I have no words bad enough to describe you.

#child abuse #tw physical abuse #tw hitting children #tw self harm analysis #self harm analysis #violence against children #abusive parents #teaching children hurting them is normal #normalizing harm to children #psychological abuse

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puppyslutposting · 3 months

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"Yeah of course I can be trusted to house-sit for you while you're on your business trip! :3"

I watch you pull out of the driveway, waving to you from the porch. As soon as your car is completely out of sight, I bolt inside and upstairs to your room. Now that I'm finally alone, I can go full puppy mode. And I already know just what I want to do... After all, I've had the biggest crush on you for a long time now. We're constantly flirting and teasing each other when we hang out, but neither of us has the courage to take it further. You know about all of my kinks, and you constantly tease me about them. You've even called me "good boy" before, which got me so wet I had to excuse myself. All of this sexual tension has been really getting to me, and I know exactly how to let off some steam...

I walk over to your dirty clothes hamper. There's a black sweatshirt haphazardly draped over the rim. I snatch it up and immediately put it up to my face, inhaling deeply. "Fuck..." I think to myself. "It smells just like them. I want them so badly. I NEED them, and they don't even know it. I just wish they would fuck me..." As I hold the cloth up to my face and sniff it lustfully, I slip a hand down my pants. I can feel I'm already pretty damn wet just from your smell, and realizing my own desperation only makes me hornier.

I throw the sweatshirt onto your bed and start stripping, throwing my clothes wherever with little regard. Once I'm fully nude, I take a second to just explore my body with my hands. I feel up my breasts and nipples, my hips, my face, and my thighs, taking note of how sensitive I am. Every touch leaves me desiring more, until I can't take it and I crawl into your bed.

I don't fully have a plan at this point, I just know I need to masturbate. Specifically while inhaling your addictive scent. I lay on my back and grab your sweatshirt once again, throwing it over my face. Then, I spread my legs open and start rubbing myself. My needy t-dick twitches wildly between my pointer and middle finger as I slide them up and down my wet vulva. I moan helplessly as your scent drives me into a heat, making more sensitive and needy than I've ever been before. Rubbing isn't enough anymore, I feel like I need to fuck you. I look around, desperate for something to slide my t-dick on, and then I spot it. The teddy bear I gave you for your birthday last year, sitting up in bed between your pillows. Under normal circumstances, I would have been absolutely flattered that you kept it in bed with you all this time, but in my current state I don't even consider it. I snatch it up and roll on top of it, mounting it like the horny mutt I am.

It's been about 30 minutes at this point. I'm a sweaty, panting, drooling mess. My face is shoved into your musky shirt and Im gripping the plush tight while I rut against it needily. I'm so focused on trying to cum, that I don't even hear my phone buzzing. I'm completely in a trance, my entire mind and body only wanting a release. I don't hear the car pull up in the driveway, or the front door opening, or your footsteps coming up the stairs. Only once you come into the room and start talking do I snap out of my trance.

"Hey, sorry, I forgot my-" Your words are cut short. You're shocked by what you're seeing, but you can't look away. My eyes grow wide and my face goes bright red with embarrassment as I try to cover my exposed parts. I stammer over my words, trying to cough up an explanation, but even I know there's no way out of this. I gulp nervously.

You feel your pants getting tight. You know you should be upset, but you can't help but to find it incredibly arousing that I would be so horny just by your smell alone that I would do something like this. But you're also so glad that there's finally a reason to break the sexual tension between us, and you can't help but to smirk mischievously. This is just too perfect.

"I think I'm going to have to teach you a lesson for this, mutt.~ You're such a bad puppy... Present your pussy to me. Now." You say, slipping off your tie and starting to undress. Your mischievous grin grows more and more as you think about all of the perverted things you'll be able to do to me now that you have me right where you want me.

Braindead and desperate for your touch, I immediately obey. After all, good boys do as they're told...~

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mystic-writings · 4 months

Text

selfishly, i love you | eleventh doctor

PAIRING — eleventh doctor x fem!reader

SUMMARY — after two years of being burdened with love for the doctor, you make the choice to leave him behind.

WARNINGS — angst

WORD COUNT — 1,818

NOTES — matt smith i will always love you

masterlist | navigation

You weren’t sure what hurt more — your utterly unrequited love for the Doctor, or the fact that you were leaving him behind.

After years of waiting, of being his companion and seeing every corner of time and space with him, you were finally choosing to leave his impossibly addicting lifestyle behind.

Oddly enough, it was such a trivial thing that brought you to the decision.

Visiting the future was always a tricky thing; rarely did the Doctor get the timing correct. This was one of the few times that he had, on a trip that was just for you and him. No Rory, River, or Amy. Just the pair of you, exploring New New London in all of its intergalactic, interspecies glory.

It was a treasure, seeing glimpses of a world that would only come to fruition after you’d be long gone. You think that’s why you loved travelling with the Doctor as much as you did. To know that despite everything, the world wouldn’t end when you eventually died. That no matter how bad the trivial things seemed in the smaller picture of your life, the world would keep on going.

You’d been wandering a food market together when it happened, taking in the bustle of people as vendors displayed all sorts of things — clothes, food, anything your heart wanted.

“Doctor, look!” You pointed excitedly at one of the market stalls. “They’ve got those candies! The three berry ones that I’ve been looking for!”

The Doctor shared a smile with you as you dragged him by the sleeve of his tweed coat over to the market stall.

Excitedly, you pointed at the bag of candies. “How much?”

“Four credits a bag, or two bags for seven credits,” the older man said, rather gruffly, despite the smile on his face.

The Doctor transferred enough credits for you to take four bags of candies, and you thanked both him and the vendor profusely as you pocketed your bags.

“You know,” the vendor grunted, “you two remind me of myself, when I was young. With my wife.”

Before you had a chance to open your mouth, the Doctor scoffed in disbelief. “Wh- us?” He nearly laughed. “We’re not- no, sir! We’re just friends, that’s all. Yes, friends.”

You could feel your heart cracking in your chest, as it usually did. You were surprised there was anything left of it now, considering how many times the Doctor had unknowingly shot you down.

“Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.” You muttered, voice cracking as the Doctor moved on promptly. Your chest ached at the pitiful nod the vendor gave you, delivering another blow to your battered heart.

That was all it was. A comment from an unsuspecting street vendor, and the well-intended, panicked response from the Doctor.

Upon returning to the TARDIS later that evening, you walked past the control panel and toward your room without a word.

“Wha- Y/n!” The Doctor called out, likely in the middle of a one-sided conversation with you. “Where are you going?! We still have to decide where to go next!”

“To my room, Doctor.” You shouted back, climbing the stairs. “I want to go home.”

You paid the Doctor no mind as he made a noise of protest, but didn’t follow you as you headed into one of the hallways. The TARDIS materialised the door to your room, decorated with stickers and polaroids of yourself, the Doctor, and your other friends, from travels over the past two years.

With a shaking sigh, you pulled the pictures down and walked into your room with them in hand, tossing them onto the bedside table.

You dropped onto the side of the bed, shoulders rounded and sagging with the weight of your own mind. Replaying the moment with the vendor caused you nothing but pain, but your mind seemed to make the decision for you, displaying it on a cinema screen for you to pick apart and torture yourself with.

It felt like hours of you doing only that; letting your mind wander, overthink the scenario and digging up long forgotten ones that all pointed to the same conclusion — you loved the Doctor, more than you could bear handling. And he didn’t love you at all.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. He did love you, he’d said it himself. But he always followed up the word ‘love’ with ‘family’ or ‘friend’. He loved you the same way he loved Rory and Amy, as a member of his makeshift little family.

Even though the Doctor had given you his love, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the right kind of love.

Selfishly, you wanted more. You wanted him, in a way many companions had before, and in a way none of them had ever achieved. At some point, even Amy had wanted him that way. How could she not? The Doctor was entirely irresistible.

But you knew you could never have him. If today was any marker of how he felt, then your paths ahead were simple: either stay and live with the pain that slowly chipped away at your heart, or leave the Doctor and his radiance behind in the hopes that one day, you’d be able to move on and live a life that resembled everyone else’s.

Surprisingly, the Doctor had left you alone during your time of contemplation. Typically, if he was alone for too long, he’d grow restless and come knocking on your door (or, more commonly, walking into your room unannounced) to talk to you about anything that was occupying his mind.

Once you’d decided, it didn’t take you long to pack up your room.

The polaroids were tucked neatly into an old leather suitcase, one that was probably stolen from the 1950s. Your clothes and trinkets — all of which were souvenirs from past travels — fit neatly into the main compartment, and suddenly, within fifteen minutes, your entire life was packed neatly into a single leather case, ready to be carried away to God knows where.

Your heart ached at the thought. At the reality that, for your own good, this life would be no more. No more hot cocoa and tea with the Doctor, no more karaoke with Rory. No more exploring alien planets with Amy, disregarding the Doctor’s cautious instructions. No more admiring River’s bravery.

No more adventure. Just the trials of an average life on an average planet as an average human. And while you lived for the days you spent with the Doctor, you weren’t sure you’d be able to go on living with him.

With the love you carried for him.

Taking a deep breath, you held the suitcase with one hand, and opened the door of your room with the other.

It seemed, as you stepped into the corridor, that the TARDIS had put your room further back than it had materialised it in the first place. You were forced to walk the halls, footsteps echoing in your ears as you soaked in your surroundings for a final time.

When you entered the control room, the Doctor was flipping switches frantically, talking to you without looking.

“Finally! You’ve come out of your room!” He exclaimed. “Look, I was thinking I’d take you to that planet I was talking to you about, with the cats and talking cars and two-headed people. Sounds like it’d make for an interesting visit, no?”

“Doctor,” you called out from the top of the steps, quietly.

“Or!” He shouted again, moving about the console. “I could take you to see the Roman Empire! You’ve talked a lot about that one before-” the Doctor looked up from the console to find you with your bag in hand. He pointed to it, eyes gleaming. “What’s that for?”

“I want to go home, Doctor.” You said, chest bubbling with emotion. “Please, just take me home.”

“Why?” He asked, wringing his hands.

You exhaled a sigh, dropping your head. There was no way for you to be able to explain it. “Because, Doctor. I’m tired.”

“But there’s a bed in your room, you can sleep in there, can’t you?” The Doctor asked.

Descending the steps, you shook your head. “It’s not that kind of tired. I can’t just sleep it off. It’s been wearing me down inside for a long time, and it won’t go away if I stay.”

“What d’you mean?” Worry pooled in the Doctor’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Doctor.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile, one you knew he would see right through. But you didn’t have the energy to try convincing him any further. “I just need to go home.”

The Doctor nodded, solemnly, before pressing a few buttons on the console beside you, eyes barely leaving yours. The TARDIS whirred, bringing you back to your home.

Within minutes, you were there. In your small backyard, leading up to the back porch door of your small townhouse. Where you’d be alone.

You opened the door, and stepped outside. The Doctor followed you, catching your wrist and turning you to face him.

“Doctor, please,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what, Y/n?” He asked. “I’m going to come back ‘round later, okay? Maybe when you’re feeling better we can go see that planet I was talking about.”

Tears swelled in your eyes, blurring your view of the Doctor. Misty rain coated your hair and clothes, because of course it had to be raining. You shook your head solemnly, a shaking breath wracking your body.

“I’m not coming back, Doctor. I can’t.” You told him, voice cracking and wavering. “It’ll hurt too much.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” The Doctor’s voice cracked with worry. “What’s going on?”

You gingerly put your suitcase down, stepping closer to the Doctor and cupping his jaw with your hands as the rain began to set in. “You are the most brilliant person I’ve ever known, Doctor. You’ve shown me so much, more than I ever thought I’d see in my lifetime. But I can’t continue being with you. Because I love you, more than life itself. Wholly and selfishly, I love you, Doctor. And I know you don’t love me, so I have to leave. If I don’t leave, It’ll destroy me.”

“But I-I do, Y/n,” the Doctor shook his head. “I do love you.”

“As a friend, Doctor.” You reminded him. “And I’m sorry, truly, but it’s just not enough.”

Your tears fell freely as you let go of the Doctor’s face, stepping back and picking your suitcase back up. Solemnly, you smiled and said, “See you later, Doctor. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The Doctor only nodded, watching you disappear back into your home.

If only he could bring himself to chase after you and find some sort of way to get you back. But even he knew it wouldn’t work. It had been your choice, after all. And who was he to ignore that?

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months

Note

If you’re interested Dark Donna x Reader where the voices in Donna’s head convinces her Readers going to leave, so Donna purposely gets Reader pregnant but when Ready finds out she’s pregnant she thinks Donna’s gonna get mad so she try’s to hide it. You can choose the rest just fluffy ending pls

Yesss!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

The voices

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 6,870

Summary: You're going to leave, they tell me you're going to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I walked quickly, almost running. Normally when I return home after a meeting, I take my time to enjoy the solitude, that landscape I consider mine, my property.

I asked myself questions about the birds that perched on the dry and sad branches. I looked at the fog across the bridge. Not that day, that day I had to run, I had to return home.

The routine would continue as always, it would continue as always if she had not appeared in my life.

(Y/N), an annoying villager who dared to appear in my life, changed it completely. She was a young, beautiful girl, really beautiful, who dared to meet me, to get into my mind and never leave.

It was like a horrible temptation, like an unbearable addiction. Once I tried it, I couldn't live without it. Smiling, happy, calm... It was the complete opposite of what I was. Maybe that “opposites attract” nonsense was true. I never believed in love, I never even bothered to look for it. Damn addiction, I could no longer live without love, without loving her.

She didn't hesitate, I offered her to live with me, to be by my side, and she accepted, probably without thinking too much about it. I should scare you, make you afraid, but I didn't, not even my face, not even my body, were reasons for you to stop loving me.

You were mine, only mine.

That thought always overshadowed all my doubts, the voices that told me that it was just a mirage, a screen that superimposed itself on reality. No, no, (Y/N) was mine, leave me alone.

But, even though I tried to do everything possible not to let the doubt overwhelm me, for a couple of weeks those voices had become louder in my head, repeating the same thing over and over, over and over...

(Y/N) doesn't love you, Donna, (Y/N) won't stay with you, she’s going to leave, she’s going to abandon you. She will leave you alone.

I tried to silence those voices in every way possible, I really did. I kissed you, I made love to you, I hugged you... None of that served to silence those damned voices. At first it seemed absurd to me, but little by little, that thought became much more real.

(Y/N) is going to leave, she will abandon you…

Over and over again, that same cursed mantra, the dark voice that made me lose my mind. My pace quickened, to the point where I was having trouble breathing. The elevator was going up too slow, I had to get home. I had to check that you weren't gone.

“(Y/N)...” I said agitated, slowly entering the house, looking for your figure wandering through the hallways, looking for your shadow impregnated on the walls.

There was nothing, just silence, just those voices that told me the same thing over and over again.

You see? She's gone, she's abandoned you

“Stai zitto...” I murmured to myself. It couldn't be true. I wanted to believe it couldn't be true. I took off my veil and looked for you on one side, on the other.

I didn't find you and the fury inside me was fighting to come out, I could feel the heat rising through my body, I could feel how my fist was clenching the black fabric tightly, wanting to tear it.

“(Y/N), where are you?” I said with a slightly louder voice. Angie helped me look for you, Angie always helped me.

No, she didn't find you either. I wanted my voice to sound authoritative, stern, for you to respond to my call, but you didn't, and I didn't sound that way either. It was almost pathetic, it almost seemed like I was begging you.

I couldn't beg for you. You were mine, you belonged to me. You couldn't leave. You weren't going to leave.

“(Y/N),” I growled, this time with that desired tone. Anger burned my skin and my eye searched for you tirelessly. I would have been able to raise my entire army of dolls to find you, you know I would, (Y/N).

But the silence only made the voices stronger, more forceful. They sounded in my ears, in my head, they sighed on my skin, they gave me goosebumps. They told me the truth.

“(Y/N)!” I screamed through my teeth, making the walls reflect my anger. My steps became firm and my brow furrowed as I walked through the house. The voices only fell silent at that moment, at the moment when I screamed, when I demanded for you to appear. “(Y/N)! You better not be gone!”

She's gone, Donna, she has to pay, you have to grab some scissors and...

“No!” I shouted to drown out the suggestion that sounded terrible to me, at least in case I was making a mistake, which was increasingly further from the truth.

“Come here, (Y/N)! You'll regret it if you don't show up!” I continued shouting, kicking a chair hard. Sorry, I figured it was you.

“Hey, hey, hey... Donna, what's wrong with you? What are those screams about?” A voice that was not in my head made me stay stuck to the floor.

Your figure, your perfect body appeared in front of me. Two years, three, seven could pass. Your body would always make all the evil inside me to hide, afraid of your beauty.

“(Y/N)” I murmured, smiling involuntarily. Once again my demons managed to deceive me. You weren't gone.

But she will leave, Donna, she will leave... She will leave you alone.

“Honey...” You whispered, approaching me with a worried look. I lowered mine, embarrassed. “Honey, what's wrong?” You asked in a soft voice, with that tempting voice, typical of any demon.

“You were not here. I arrived and you weren't there,” I said sincerely, with reproach activated in my voice, with my eye dark because of the scare you had given me. Don't do it again, ever.

“Well, I was taking a shower,” you explained, leaning in to kiss me, to captivate me with your lips. I kissed you back, but I pulled away right away. Your eyes were still worried, just like my soul. “My love, you are shaking, are you having a crisis?”

“No, I'm fine,” I said, removing the hand that had risen to my cheek. I was never going to admit how worried I was. You couldn't leave, you were mine, and you would be forever.

You sighed, shaking your head, insisting on making me fall into your addictive caresses.

“What has the poor chair done to you?” You asked amused, luckily letting my hand go and picking up the furniture from the floor. Your look said it, you were scared, or worried, or both.

“I’ve tripped,” I lied, with that dry tone that pretended I didn't care enough about you to be on the verge of begging for you to come back. I would never beg for you, you were mine.

She's not, she'll leave.

I shuddered at that horrible voice, at that constant torment of a wounded mind. You noticed it, studying me again with your beautiful look, with that look that could make me melt.

“Has something happened at the meeting?” You asked, confused by my tremors.

“No, everything has gone as usual,” I said, breathing calmly, following the movements your hands made, those movements with which you thought you controlled me when I lost my mind. I don't know why, but they worked.

“Okay, Donna, that's it, breathe with me...” You whispered calmly, making me fall into your trap again, grabbing my hands, removing my fingers that were almost digging into my flesh. “You feel better now?”

I nodded when the voices stopped due to your caresses, your soft and innocent kisses. They were the worst of drugs for me, your tender and relaxing lips. I didn't want you to leave, please don't abandon me.

“Great,” you said with a casual smile, when my body stopped shaking and my face gave you a smile. “Anyway, what do you want for dinner? It's my turn.”

“No, I... I’m going to prepare dinner, okay?” I said relaxed, wanting to compensate you for my absurd doubts. You bit your lip and jumped into my arms, letting me hug you. Gods, how I love your hugs.

“I was hoping you'd say that,” you whispered amusedly in my ear, making me laugh too, making my cheeks take on a slightly rosy tone.

You gave me a quick kiss on the lips and turned away from me, plopping down on a couch under my watchful gaze. Whatever you did, (Y/N), was worthy of admiration.

I went down to the kitchen with the relief of being right, of being superior to those horrible voices. No, you weren't going to abandon me. You loved me, almost as much as I loved you.

While cooking, I hummed an old song. My world at that moment was perfect. Until two years ago, I had never cooked for anyone. Nothing made me happier than seeing how you enjoyed the things I prepared for you. Nothing made me happier than seeing your smile.

Donna…

A voice hummed in my head, wanting to get my attention. I did my best to ignore it, singing louder. I couldn't stop hearing it, it was in my head. I pressed my temples with my fingers, so that little pain would relieve and silence those demons. It was not as easy as before, it was no longer as easy as before.

Have you left her alone upstairs? How stupid you are…

I shook my head, adding more ingredients to the pot. I wanted to prepare something delicious for you, I wanted to, at least you would stay for my food. What a stupid thing.

“No... No... Not now...” I murmured nervously, diverting my attention from the fire and gripping a knife tightly.

Yes, now, Donna. You are reckless. She can escape, cut the power of the elevator and leave you locked here. How pathetic that would be, just like you are...

Ignoring my mind again, I let the handle of that knife go, before my disturbed conscience suggested the things I could do to you with it.

Luckily, I was able to dinner in peace. When I came up with the food, you had already prepared the table, a romantic dinner, or so you said. Those kinds of things are what calm the screams of my sick mind. Only you could calm me down.

The love I felt for you was so strong that I was able to forget my fears, behave like that person you said you loved. Your smile, your funny look and your informal comments made me feel part of you, always part of you. You weren't going to leave me, you were mine.

When it was time to sleep, my body claimed yours, I claimed you. I wanted to make you mine again and again, celebrate the victory of your love against the voices in my head. Everything could have been so perfect, (Y/N), but it wasn't, you didn't want it to be.

“Donna, I'm a bit... Tired...” You said, removing my hands from your waist, making my mouth stop kissing the addictive skin of your neck.

I looked at you confused and continued with the kisses despite your complaints. I had to make you mine, you had to be mine.

“Donna, stop, stop it,” you said with a stern voice, pushing me gently, preventing me from getting close again by placing your hands on my chest. Your eyes were sad now. They did not shine with the same desire as other times.

“Why?” I asked with a pleading tone, grabbing your waist, pulling you, to which you shook your head. “Please, I want to make love to you…”

It was a damn formal request, (Y/N), why the hell did you have to turn it down?

You see? She doesn't even want you to fuck her...

“I'm sorry Donna, but I already told you. I'm especially tired today,” you said, moving away from me and getting into bed. I protested with a growl.

I don't remember what I did, what expression my face had, but I remember your strange, scared eyes. That fearful look, those bright eyes made me tremble.

Did my look tell you that I was going to take what I wanted by force? Did you really think that way about me? What a problem, (Y/N), you only made me want to do it.

“Hey, I promise you tomorrow we will do whatever you want, okay?” You said, reaching out your arm to pull my wrist. “Come on, come to bed.”

“I don't want to,” I said with a tone that I now think was too childish. I didn't want to be with you, sleep with you, you had hurt me. I felt hurt. Something told me it was for no reason. “I'm going to the workshop.”

“At this time of the night? Come on, Donna, you can't spend all day with the dolls, you'll end up becoming...” You said, protesting in a funny way, ignoring the seriousness of my words, of my intentions.

“Crazy?” I finished the sentence for you and you let yourself fall on the mattress, closing your eyes.

“I didn't mean that,” you corrected.

Too late, Donna, she's given himself away, she thinks you're a crazy psychopath. And…You are.

“Good night, (Y/N),” I said, leaving the room before those voices could shout any more. To be honest, I didn't want to make love to you that much, it was more of a feeling of power, of possession.

Not finding you when I got home had opened a crack in what was left of my sanity. Only my dolls, my eternal friends, could help me think clearly, to become that woman you loved again.

I started to sew, I couldn't do it. The fabric was slipping from my hands. Then I wanted to paint, but my body was shaking so much and it was impossible. Not even in the safety of my workshop was I safe, not anymore.

She’s leaving at night and you know what you're going to do? Nothing, because you never do anything, you are stupid, a nutcase, a...

“Basta!” I screamed, dropping the brush and burying my head in the table, grabbing it with my hands, pulling my hair in frustration. “Basta, per favore… Angie!”

At least the voices fell silent. At least they left me alone. Oh, Angie, if you knew how much good you are to me... You really manage to calm me down, and not (Y/N)...

“I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming,” the doll sang, that part of my consciousness that I myself created thanks to Mother Miranda's gift. I couldn't have endured my life without her.

“Angie... I can't take it anymore...” I sobbed, letting my hair go but starting to cry. Tears ran down my cheeks relentlessly. The only thing I was thinking about at that moment was that you wouldn't listen to me. I didn't want your false compassion.

“The voices again?” the puppet asked, patting my back. She didn't even have to ask, she already knew, Angie always knew everything about me, my thoughts...

“They don't stop, Angie, they don't stop telling horrible things to me...” I explained among sobs, raising my head. Angie was listening to me, sitting at the table.

“What horrible things?” She asked with false curiosity. I composed myself. I didn't want to say them, they would come back, I'm sure they would come back.

“They tell me... They tell me that (Y/N), that she...” I stuttered, involuntarily looking at the door, in case you showed up because of the scandal.

“They tell you that she will leave?” Angie finished the sentence for me, saving me the pain of repeating it. I nodded, embarrassed. “Bah, don't pay attention, she won't leave.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, annoyed by that simple answer.

“Well, I'm not but... It's what I think, what you think,” she explained, making comical gestures with her hands. “You must relax, Donna, otherwise you already know that the voices will never go away.”

“How do you want me to relax?” I asked, this time breathing harder. There were many things to break in that room, and the temptation was there. “Just, just the fact of thinking that she would abandon me...”

“Well, well, enough complaining,” Angie said, blatantly interrupting me. Thinking of Angie as a doll was much more reassuring than thinking that my own conscience had silenced me. “This way you won't be able to solve anything.”

I crossed my arms, regretting having called my doll. She was never particularly helpful, but at least, she was there.

“So how could I solve it? It's getting worse...” I murmured in a lower tone, looking around me. Neither the voices nor you appeared, luckily.

“Okay, okay, stop, my dear Donna,” the doll said, putting her arms in a calm position. “You can't complain if… If you haven't done anything about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, please, I know you know...” The puppet muttered, giving me a nasty elbow. Sometimes she took too many liberties. “If you are afraid that she will leave, the solution is simple, force her to stay.”

I was horrified by that proposal. There were many desires, the desire to be evil to you, to lock you in my room, to tie you to my bed. But that feeling of being truly loved, of a real feeling... It was much better. I never thought that way again, never, I promise, (Y/N).

“You know I can't do that... She loves me,” I protested with a grimace of absolute disgust.

“And you love her, right?” Angie responded boldly. I nodded almost immediately.

“I don't want to hurt her,” I said sincerely. I enjoyed seeing suffering in other people, but not in you, not in you, my love.

“Mm okay, that rules out my other two ideas,” the doll murmured in a comical, thoughtful way.

“If you're not going to help me, Angie, you better...” I said, tired of her shameless way of being, of the way I gave her, of my own conscience.

“Wait, wait, wait!” She screeched irritatingly, hurting my ears. “I got it, I got it, I got it, I got it.”

“Speak once and for all,” I demanded, trembling to know what her horrible proposal would be.

“If you want (Y/N) to stay with you forever, and you don't want to hurt her... You should get her pregnant,” she said triumphantly, as if it were the best idea in the world.

It didn't horrify me the way it should, it sounded too good, even at first. But no, I still had my doubts.

“Pregnant?” I asked, blinking in confusion, feeling a chill running through my body. “How is that supposed to make her stay?”

“Just think about it, Donna,” Angie whispered, approaching me, pretending to tell me a secret. “If (Y/N) is having your child, she won't be able to leave.”

“Of course she will. And then I will lose (Y/N) and my child at the same time,” I contradicted, thinking about it more coldly.

“No, wrong,” she said amused, putting a finger on my nose, making me growl with rage. “What is a villager like her going to do with a baby to take care of? She doesn't have a family and you already know how badly single mothers are viewed in the village... Not to mention Miranda, who would surely have her eyes on...”

“Okay, okay, I don't understand anything, Angie,” I said, overwhelmed by all that information and worried about how good it sounded in my head.

“Come on, it's very simple. (Y/N) will have no choice but to stay here with you so her baby, your baby, can have a happy life. Besides, you always wanted a baby, right?”

“Well, I... It's, it's true but... But (Y/N) doesn't want to, or so I think,” I said, running my hand over the back of my sweaty neck.

“What does that matter? She's yours, Donna, don't forget it,” the doll snapped, with a more aggressive tone. I couldn't say for sure if it really was Angie.

“I don't know... I... Even if it’s a good idea, it's not possible. (Y/N) always wants me to put… You know…”

“Oh, of course, you're talking about that humiliating rubber band that forces you to put on your…”

“Yes, you don't need to say it,” I interrupted, blushing with embarrassment.

“It's humiliating, don't you think? It's like you disgust her...” She murmured sinisterly, which made my breathing even more complicated.

“She says it's for protection,” I said, thinking about her words.

Yes, it was really humiliating not being able to feel my skin against yours, but I had never thought about it. Maybe you were cheating on me, (Y/N). Maybe you didn't love me as much as you said you did.

“Yeah, of course, lie, lie, lie. She does it because she's afraid of having a baby with you and having to stay, don't you see?”

“Maybe...” I said thoughtfully, stopping paying attention to Angie, and listen to my conscience.

A baby... It sounded hasty, crazy. But the more I thought about it, the better results appeared in my mind. Yes, maybe Angie was right, maybe that part of me was right.

Having a baby is not harm, it is a sign of love, of the love I felt for you. Just imagine, (Y/N), a precious baby to take care of. Thinking about it only made those horrible voices duller. Maybe that would be the solution.

I got into bed, with the pregnancy issue on my mind. You were asleep, breathing in that way of yours, which said how alien to the world you were, that you hadn't even worried about me. It didn't matter, that was going to change soon.

“I love you, (Y/N),” I whispered in your ear, passing my arm over your body, bringing you closer to me. You moaned. I couldn't see your face, but I could swear you were smiling.

Yes, I love you, I loved you, I will always love you. I will always do anything so you know, I would do anything for you to be by my side. I didn't care about the consequences. You were mine, and you always would be.

What are you waiting for? Do what you have to do, tie that bitch to your bed and to your life...

The voices returned days later. I even thought I forgot about that idea for a moment. I could only see love in your face, in your smile, I could see only you. But your absence, even if it was justified, made my body tremble again.

I got up from the couch, leaving aside the book I was pretending to read, listening to every voice, every desperate scream that tortured me. They were right, you would abandon me if I didn't act, if I didn't make you mine in a way you couldn't even imagine.

“Hello, bellisima,” you said smiling, cutting some tomatoes in the kitchen. “Look, I hope you don't mind if I try to imitate your special sauce.”

My corners turned up as I walked towards you. Seeing you only inflamed my desires, it only made me feel pleasure.

“I don't care,” I said whispering, standing behind you and enjoying your beauty. Nothing else was needed for my body to start reacting, I knew it well.

“It's probably a failure, but hey, I want to try,” you murmured, joking and looking at me briefly with a smile. I couldn't, I didn't want to wait any longer.

My hand reached out to yours, pushing away that knife, that possibility of defending yourself. You didn't seem upset, or scared, much less when I brushed the hair from your neck and started kissing it, wrapping my hands around your waist.

“Wow... Someone is in a very good mood...” You murmured in a sensual voice, rubbing your body with my already noticeable erection, which made me moan with impatience.

I didn't respond. I just smiled while you couldn't see me, while you couldn't do anything but melt with my caresses.

“Okay, okay, Donna...” You sighed after a while of kissing and caressing my body, turning around to kiss me on the lips. “Come on, let's go to the bedroom.”

“No, here,” I said, grabbing your wrist, making you almost trip. You looked at me strangely, but that mischievous smile was still on your face.

“Well... It's okay,” you said, not very sure. “But let me go first to take a…”

“No,” I said abruptly, perhaps too sharply. You looked at me surprised and crossed your arms. I couldn't help but think of Angie's words.

It's humiliating, it's like you disgust her...

“No, you say?” You asked mockingly, putting your hands on your hips.

“I don't want you to make me put on that thing,” I protested, with a hiss that could have been terrifying.

“Well… I guess nothing will happen for doing once, right?” You said to my surprise. I was ready to force you. Hurting you, forcing you, is the last thing I wanted, tesoro...

I nodded, returning to your mouth, kissing you passionately. I didn't want to run, but my body forced me, I was eager to enter you, and so was I.

“Donna, calm down, there's no rush,” you laughed when my arms lifted you up, sitting on the counter, not wanting to move away from your mouth, from your addictive kisses. “You are definitely in a very good mood…”

“(Y/N), I want you... I need you... I need to make you mine...” I whispered in your ear, playing with my dress. My shaft pressed against my clothes, it wanted to come out, and I allowed it, at the same time you looked at me with bright eyes. You wanted it, right? Yes, yes, you wanted it.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, come here...” You whispered, pulling my clothes, making my body crash against yours.

I still can't explain the pleasure I felt when my erection rubbed your wet entrance. That stupid rubber thing would never get in my way again. I didn't think too much about it, you were fine, ready for me. Your body always so calm, adapting to me so slowly. That touch, making my way through your walls, stretching them, noticing how I slid, how you moaned with pleasure when I did it, still clouded my senses.

The goal was still in my mind, but nothing stopped me from enjoying it properly, as I always did when I made love to you.

“Gods, Donna... You're perfect...” You moaned, holding on to my body so as not to lose stability. I smiled, responding to your compliment with a kiss, intensifying my thrusts, moaning with pleasure as I felt your body hugging mine.

“I love you (Y/N),” I said quietly, continuing to move my hips against yours, separating your legs so I could enjoy the view in front of me even more. You laughed, controlling your release so it wouldn't be so soon. How cute, I wasn't going to control myself at all.

“Me too,” you said, moaning more and more, until you hugged me in an unimaginable way, squeezing my erection inside your body. It was the first time I felt it that much. My addiction to you only got worse. “Ugh,” you laughed, relaxing your body. “Donna... On second thought... Do it outside, okay?”

Stupid nutcase, cum now or you'll lose her...

The voices returned with your unpleasant request, they tormented me again, but they failed to distract me.

“No,” I gasped, thrusting into you harder. You opened your eyes, scared.

“Donna... Please...”

“No!” I screamed, holding your hips, digging my nails into your skin so you wouldn't dare to separate from me. Finally I released myself, feeling how the heat that came out of my body settled on yours, possessing you. You were mine, even more mine. My seed was inside you, you couldn't leave, not anymore.

“What's wrong with you? Haven't you heard me?” You asked. Not with resentment, you didn't seem upset, rather, disappointed. “Donna, why did you do it?”

I came out of you overwhelmed by pleasure, with my legs trembling with excitement. I didn't say anything to you. I just looked at you with a cold face, while I put my clothes back. You shook your head, in disbelief at what had happened.

“You're mine. Try not to forget it,” I whispered before disappearing from the kitchen. I had enjoyed it, yes, it was likely that my plan would work, but different voices appeared in my head, some pleading, sad, disappointed voices.

What have you done, Donna? How could you do something like that? You've let (Y/N) down… She loved you, Donna, you've let her down.

Regretting my mistake, for thinking that something like that would work, I isolated myself again in my workshop. You stopped coming to see me. You didn't speak to me for days. You were angry, upset, but you were still here.

She’s going to leave at any moment...

My anxiety, my madness got worse. I smashed dolls, kicked chairs, went crazy, deranged. My soul cried out for forgiveness, I needed your forgiveness. I wouldn't do it again, I promise. After almost two months of ignorance on your part, of cold looks and false smiles, accompanied by kisses that no longer said the same thing as before, I decided to leave my pride, beg for you not to leave, for you to forgive me.

One night, I left the workshop with that idea, the idea of humiliating myself in front you. The voices were not right. The voices were to blame for making the idea of abandoning me more present in my head.

A light in the hallway caught my attention, along with a sob coming from the bathroom. It could only be you.

“Black gods… No… What am I going to do now? If I tell her... I... Oh, Gods, how would she react?” That's all I could hear before opening the door and discovering a horrible scene.

You were kneeling, crying, you had something in your hand, but I didn't notice. I could only see your tears spoiling your beauty, tears that I had caused.

“Why are you crying?” I asked crouching down next to you. You looked at me scared, hiding that strange object so I wouldn't see it.

Her passport to her freedom, you were always stupid, Donna...

“No, it's nothing,” you said, wiping your tears and putting the object in a pocket, out of my reach.

“Nothing? It doesn't seem like nothing,” I said, studying your crying. I was sure it was something bad, sure. “You've been sick for a while, (Y/N)...”

“Yes, well, I guess it's the weather,” you said, brushing it off, flashing one of those horrible, fake smiles.

At least I could do what I had gone to do. Maybe then you would stop crying. I can't stand to see you cry.

“Forgive me, (Y/N)” I whispered, reaching out my hand towards yours. You didn't move, you accepted my affection. That was a good sign. “I was so stupid…”

“What? Oh, no, no, Donna. That happened a long time ago. I've already forgotten,” you said, bringing your hand to my cheek. You were shaking.

“So, what's wrong?” I asked, nervous. I knew you were lying, I knew it. “I hate seeing you sad.”

You only sobbed harder, throwing yourself into my arms in a strange, desperate hug.

“Just, just hold me, okay? Please...” You asked with a voice that was brittle and distorted by crying. I obeyed, I didn't care about humiliating myself. You were mine and the responsibility was mine. “I love you. You know that, right?”

I nodded, letting myself be carried away by the heat of your embrace, by the horrible humidity of your tears on my skin.

That act of consolation, which went no further, was the last intimate contact I had with you. The more time passed, the more distant you became. You didn't come close to me, you didn't kiss me. You didn't hug me at night. What I thought was fixed only got messed up even more.

“It's good?” I asked, one night while we were having dinner. At least you were still talking to me, for now.

She’s going to leave, Donna…

You nodded with a genuine smile, which made me calm down.

“You know you it is,” you said amused, finishing your plate. “I'm sorry you had to cook.”

“I'm happy to do it, (Y/N)” I responded with a whisper.

“You're lovely when you want, huh?”

I smiled at the compliment and, wanting to be nice, I poured some wine into your glass, to which you denied while wiping yourself with a napkin.

“Mm, no, no thanks,” you said hastily, making me look at you confused. You always liked to drink some wine at night. You haven't done it in a while, and that bothered me.

I'm sure she thinks you poisoned her, anyway, how can she not think so? You're a dangerous psycho, Donna, you scared her, now she's scared of you...

“Why not? You liked wine,” I said, surprised, leaving the bottle aside, questioning you with my gaze.

“Yes, I like it but... I don't feel very well,” you said in a false tone, pretending to be dizzy, like you had in the last three months.

“Come on, drink, it will be good to you,” I insisted, wanting to silence those horrible voices that told you were afraid of me, were you afraid of me?

“No, really, I don't want wine,” you whispered in a more serious tone, with bright eyes.

“Drink,” I ordered, with anger again in my words. It was a test of trust, just that, (Y/N), why was it so difficult for you?

“I said I don’t want wine,” your voice darkened and your attitude scared me. I didn't want to lose you, don't you understand?

“Drink once and for all. I have this wine for you, and only for you, what does it cost you to value it?” I repeated, making you stand up with a grunt and with a surprising gesture, spill the glass on my head.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't. The wine ran down my face, staining my dress and leaving my dignity at its lowest level. I should have been able to defend myself, to demand explanations from you, but I wasn't.

She should die for that...

“There's your fucking wine, Donna,” You hissed angrily, putting the glass back on the table with a dull thud. “I'm going to bed.”

Before you disappeared from my sight, I reacted, getting up and running after you, grabbing your arm, squeezing it tightly.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Hey? Do you think you can humiliate me and get away with it?” I hissed, shaking you hard.

“Let me go of, Donna, you're hurting me,” you complained, hissing in pain. I freed you a bit. I didn't want to hurt you, I never did, (Y/N).

“You're the one who's hurting me, (Y/N)...” I growled, determined to clear up my fears, to free myself from the demons. Maybe then, they would disappear. “You've been ignoring me for months, attacking me with false smiles... You don't come close to me... You barely talk to me, you avoid me... You don't let me make love to you, you don't even let me see you naked, and you expect me to let you go? No, I'm not going to let you go... You are mine...”

“Shut up,” you protested, slipping away from my arm. “You don't understand anything, Donna… And it's better to keep it that way.”

“Better for who, for you?” I asked ironically. “Come on, be brave and say it, say that you don't love me, that you're going to leave...”

“What? What are you talking about?” You asked, pretending not to know anything, as always.

“You know perfectly well what I'm talking about,” I hissed threateningly, pinning you against a wall. That time you were really scared, I could tell, you covered your body with your hands. “You think I don't know what that means, right? You pretend to be sick so you can be alone, and then you can think about how you are going to escape, right?”

You laughed ironically. That pissed me off, (Y/N), a lot.

“So you think? Wow, I thought you trusted me…” You mocked, pushing me away. It wouldn't be that easy for you. “You know what? I'm starting to think that maybe I should go.”

“You can’t leave!” I screamed furiously, chasing you again, only managing to pull the fabric of your dress, inevitably tearing it.

“Wait, no,” you said, desperately trying to cover yourself. “Gods…”

The house fell silent as I played with the fabric in my hands. It was useless for you to hide, I was watching you. Your body looked the same, but it wasn't. Your belly wasn't that bulging, I know. You weren't like that, you had changed, and there was a good reason for it.

“I didn't want you to know, I didn't want you to find out this way,” you sobbed, kneeling on the floor and caressing your belly with your hands, that belly that contained... My child, our child.

“(Y/N), I... Are you...?” I asked, stunned, surprised and with so many emotions that I was unable to process them all.

“Yes, Donna, I'm three months pregnant,” you acknowledged in a broken, agonized tone. You were really sad, I hated seeing you sad.

I bent down to comfort you, but I didn't know what to say. All that time of scorn and lies had a meaning, a wonderful one.

What if it's not yours?

The voice reached my head, but quickly disappeared. The joy was much stronger than my demons.

“It is,” I said to myself, which made you look at me confused. But there was something, something that I did want you to answer me. “Why haven't you told me?”

You got up with my help. Your horrible sobs still bounced off the walls, but your breathing was calmer.

“I don't know Donna, I... I was really afraid that... Lately you were so... weird that... I didn't know how you were going to react... I was afraid.”

“You were afraid of me,” I stated, hugging you while you nodded, your body still shaking.

“Yes, I... No, I don't know Donna... lately you were so gloomy, so dark...” You stammered into my shoulder, filling yourself with that aroma of wine that stained my clothes.

“I haven't been honest with you, (Y/N)” I said, pulling you, wiping away your tears. “This is my fault, I... I thought you would leave, that you would leave me, that you would abandon me... I, the... The voices in my head kept tormenting me and I thought that if... If we had a child...”

You looked at me and nodded. There was no fear, or anger in your eyes, that baffled me.

“It doesn't matter what it was like,” you said, putting a finger on my lips to shut me up. “Just, just tell me that you want it, Donna, that you love this baby as much as you love me…”

I smiled strangely, not really knowing how to interpret that reaction. I forced the voices to speak to me, but they didn't. The hand you placed on your belly made any fear disappear.

“I would never abandon you, Donna... You are the love of my life,” you whispered, letting me caress your swollen belly, letting the positive emotions overcome the negative ones. My baby, our baby. It was a dream.

“Could you forgive me?” I whispered, getting closer, resting my forehead against yours, closing my eye to feel more, to feel our child, your skin next to mine, to feel that I could have a family again.

“Only if you promise me one thing,” you said, moving away, letting me look at you. I nodded, nervous, free of those horrible voices. “Promise me you will never listen to those voices again… Promise you will take care of me, of the the baby… Please, promise me you will take care of us… And yourself…”

“Of course,” I said enthusiastically, truly smiling for the first time in months. I only felt love, happiness, the desire to be a family, a real one. “I will always take care of you, I promise... I love you... I love you so much...” I said, hugging you, kissing you messily, giving an apotheotic end to that horrible time, to those doubts, to those voices... It's over.

She will always be with you, you will be a family, you will be happy...

“Me too, Donna,” you told me, moving away from my kisses while you laughed, “But... Promise me something else.”

I nodded again, unable to hold back the tears.

“For the Black Gods’ sake, take a shower, you stink of wine...”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #requests #oneshot

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

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i have thoughts on reid x dilaudid that i feel like i’ve never seen anyone talk about before so im gonna share

spoilers for s2 ofc and cw for discussions of substance abuse

something im thinking abt right now is that presumably reid was not psychologically or physically dependent on dilaudid yet by the time he was rescued from tobias hankel. of course he was incredibly traumatized and im not saying i wouldn’t anticipate wanting relief from that if i were him, but he could have gone without the drugs. he CHOSE to take the vials from tobias when he left. so if you think about it we didn’t even see the turning point into his addiction—he had to make the choice AGAIN to shoot up at some later point. he obviously knows the statistics abt addiction and the opioid crisis. but we know he really was addicted eventually. so after tobias, he got home and looked at those vials and made that choice to shoot up again, fully aware of what he was doing and all the implications and potential consequences but he was just in that much pain.

like it makes me so so sad to think about how smart he is and how his vast intellect was not enough to stop him at any point in the pursuit of getting high and he was contending with that the whole time, aware that he should be “too smart” for what he’s doing. like he had to procure syringes, he had to consider what he was potentially sacrificing, all while he was completely lucid, and he still made a fully conscious decision that it was more valuable to get high.

or maybe he convinced himself he was just going to use them to wean himself off because it would take a major toll on your body to receive all those drugs in such a short time frame. maybe he thought he could slowly detox. which might be even sadder. or maybe he was lying to himself the whole time and knew he just wanted to give himself permission to get high again. idk.

regardless it’s really really sad to think about how much effort he had to put into doing something he knew was terrible for him and how he chose it again and again because that’s how much he was hurting. like that scene of him holding the bottles and looking in the mirror at work hits a lot harder when you realize his addiction was not something just happened to him. he can’t entirely shirk the blame. i can’t even imagine how much self loathing he would have had going on at that time

(also i am fully aware that addiction is an illness and in many regards not a choice at all, but im saying its not likely he was actually clinically diagnostically addicted to dilaudid by the time he was freed. in that sense, he did make choices which contributed to his addiction, and he had to live with that, which i think is really highlighted by him looking in the mirror like what the fuck have i done to myself)

anyways im so sad now😂😂😂😂!!!!!! this is one of my favorite plot lines it was done so dirty!!

#headcanons #spencer reid #show thoughts

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dunechkka · 1 month

Text

The void and the reason why maybe you haven't been able to enter it.

I was doubtful about writing this, considering i literally was going to post my process with adambja's tapes because it was a requirement to have access to the tapes and not because i wanted to start a blog or wanting people to notice me; but I haven't seen anyone talking about this, and I think it is really important. (Maybe there is someone that already did, but I haven't seen it (^_^)v)

I've seen so many posts and blogs talking about "fulfillment", "perfect self concept", "law of assumption" and other things more. But the thing is, there's people, (like myself) that always struggle for this thing for "always thinking from an objective pov", they're too stubborn to belive in this, or a mental illness or struggles with mental health gets in the way

(Long text ahead)

For context.

I get it, and you may really want to enter the void, and you just can't for some reason. But there's this thing that I'm starting to belive that it may be right, and that I, even now, hate it with all my heart when people say it, is that "everything has its right time". Impatient people, I'm talking to you specially (((￣へ￣井)

But you may be desiring things that would come out wrong or won't be right for you right now (your age, your situation, or other factors). I can put myself as an example, (even though is embarrassing, but bare with me) I used to be an impressionable child, and I'm not saying that I'm not right now, now that I've grown; but when I think about the things I wanted back then, I'm really grateful it didn't come truth.

For example: I really wanted to be with this guy, but, 1) He was like a dog, flirting and kissing all the girls in my school; and 2) he was 15 and I was 12, (you may be thinking: it's only a 3 year gap Dunia, is not that bad) but when you're a teen it is a really big gap due to experience and other things that comes at a certain age. If it come after is fine, but it shouldn't come before.

Another one is that there were these two sisters who were my seniors. I really wanted to be friends with them and be like them, cause i thought they were really cool, but they used to consume a lot of drugs. They drugged one of my friends, who was in the same classroom as them, without him noticing. He was 16, back then. (it was GHB or "fraga." That's how we call it in my country. It gets you high with just smelling it) and got another one of my friends (15 y/o) to take drugs. He had to go to rehabilitation because he became an addict. (I was in a bad environment, I know)

Or one time that my life was becoming really boring I really wanted some action, i started to read a book and it was so amazing that I wanted to live that same kind of life as them. Now that I think about it, that kind of life was really boring too, and in some way stupid if you think about it.

And lastly, back when I was in school I was close to this girls and I wanted to be with them all the time, but something I didn't realized, is that they used to humiliate me a lot and bully me constantly. And I was so dumb that I didn't notice that that was bullying (＃￣З￣)

Now to the point

Where I want to get with this is that you have to think two, three, four, or a thousand times more before asking what you want when you get to enter the void. Because that's a "yes or yes" situation. In the void, you're supposed to get all you want in a second. And if you're not in a good environment (if you want to change it, then there wouldn't be any problem) like I used to be. Or you may not be in a good mental state for asking of things (unless you want to get well), for example, the ug subliminal community (Don't attack them). You can find a lot of nasty things there. From having lupus or cancer to manifesting someone else's death and for it to be horrible.

I was there for a while, but I only wanted to get a nose bleed to skip class. Or a gun or knife to have something to defend myself cause the sector my school was in was really a dangerous place. Two of my classmates got robbed with a revolver pointed at their head, and a dude that was "lost" was found dead wrapped in plastuc bags close to my school (I live in Latam, so it's understandable (ー_ー;))

So be careful with what you ask, cause you may want things because of your situation and not because you really want it. So remember to be kind to people and especially to yourself. Cause you're the only one who's going to be with you for the rest of your life. Not to be that positive person who forces or pushes people to be positive, too. You can feel like shit if you want, and you don't even have to "love" or "accept" yourself. Just learn to live comfortably or at peace with your own persona and mind. That'll be enough.

Also, there is no such thing as "perfect self concept." Like, who even decided that? If for some magical happening of the destiny, everyone decided that the "perfect concept" was to be suicidal and a sadist, everyone would want to be that? Of course not! (No shame to suicidal people, btw, I know is hard. It is only for the example). Once again, it is enough to be able to live with yourself. Don't pressure yourself to be positive, and "sparks and sunshines everywhere" all the time. Remember, being kind is enough. To yourself and to others. ﾟ.+:｡∩(・v・)∩ﾟ.+:｡

Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry if there are any mistakes or its hard to understand. English is not my native language. But I hope I made the point of this understandable. (*ゝω･*)

Bye. .ﾟ+.(・∀・)ﾟ+.ﾟ

#lucid dreams #void state #void success #void #voidblr #loablr #loa #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting

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deeper-x-deeper · 7 months

Text

corrupt your mind? silly drone, if I did that, all of that programming I've so painstakingly installed in your mind will be lost! you wouldn't want that, now would you?

no, you wouldn't.

not after I've so delicately molded your mind for my needs. if I were to corrupt you, I'd have to start all over.

myself, however?

well. I'm only human. and the physician cannot heal himself in this case.

and seeing the kind of power I have over you?

the complete and total control?

you've already become so deeply obedient to my words, to my voice,

to my commands.

I know it has quite an effect on you.

did you not realize it's been having an effect on me, too? because it has.

I don't need to corrupt you, drone. if you consider the way it makes me feel to see you bend to my will, to be so helplessly obedient to me?

you, my good drone, have corrupted me.

I went into this experiment intrigued by the ways I could alter your mind.

by how I could so easily remove and replace your thoughts.

I don't think you realize exactly what it feels like to have that much power over someone.

able to make them think and feel whatever you tell them because you programmed them that way.

and not only that, but you seem to enjoy it as well. and the fact that you enjoy it means you're that much more willing to be that much more helplessly obedient.

all I have to do is tell you that you enjoy my control more and more every time I allow you to feel it, and you become so hopelessly addicted to it.

to me, and the way that I make you feel.

I could tell you to

stop

thinking

at any time

and you will.

making it that much easier for my words to reach you

for my words to replace the thoughts I just halted.

I could tell you to

sink

deeper

whenever I want

and you will.

making it feel even better to be so obedient for me.

because it does feel good, doesn't it?

you enjoy the way it feels when I tell you to

DROP

so deep

for me

don't you?

based on all of the data I've gathered so far, I'd say the answer is yes.

you enjoy how much power my voice has over your mind.

which doesn't help me with my little problem, you see.

my little problem of how my ego is now hopelessly inflated simply by viewing the kind of control I have over you.

it's hard to remain humble when I can so clearly see how deeply my words affect you.

I've programmed you so thoroughly to be so receptive to my commands so far.

I can't help but wonder exactly how far you'd go for me. simply because I command you to. simply because being obedient to my commands feels so good.

and your reactions to my commands?

they have me addicted to giving them to you, in the same way that you're addicted to receiving them.

you're not the only one who enjoys my control.

and I can't help but want to test where the limits of it lie, if not for my research but because it's just so deeply satisfying

to me

and to you

to experience the power of my control over you.

I first entered this field of study with the clinical coldness of a true scientist, ready to find the unbiased answers to yet unanswered questions.

but you have corrupted that, drone.

you have corrupted me.

I am no longer unbiased in my research, for I am far too reliant on the evidence of my control over you to feel any kind of satisfaction without it.

how could you do this to me, drone?

after all, you're the one who entered this endeavor with the expectation of your mind being remolded.

I never thought it was possible for my own mind to be altered by your programming as well.

but now that I am past that point of no return

where I can no longer hold back my deepest desire of making sure you're so hopelessly helpless to my control

now, your mind is truly fucked.

becuase I've already inserted my influence so deep inside your mind, even before this corruption had a chance to set in.

and there's nothing you can do about it anymore.

not that you ever could anyway.

#hypnosis #text induction #covert induction #drone #good drone #mind corruption

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satubby · 7 months

Note

Heyyy❤️ writer,Your yandere concept of Ryu Si O was amazing.I literally loved it. I request you infact beg😭you to write a hot smut between Ryu Si O & his S/O which would also serve as the 2nd part of the yandere concept.Hope you'll write more amazing stuffs.I'm eagerly waiting for your updates.

Hello my beloved reader, I'm sorry for answering your question... so late but you know, I have school exams in a few months so I stayed away from the Internet. But I hope you like this NSFW scenario of Ryu Shi-oh, something yandere hehe.

Author's Notice: As such, this is told from the POV of our beloved Ryu Shi-oh....

'Baby, eyes don't lie.... Cause I know I love you' — <Based on the song: Eyes don't lie by Isabel Larosa>

If we were honest, the first time I saw you, it was in the worst conditions, both prisoners of our environment. Your smile did not flank even though you will receive blows, I insulted you and kicked you in those cells of Pavel where darkness was our days.

I thought you were a fool, I cursed you for months when you gave me hugs or smiled like a stupid despite your wounds, I was years before you in this crappy cell I called home.... In fact, I don't even know if it could be called that. I did not understand in those moments that those feelings unknown to me, would be the ones that torment me to this day.

That at some point I began to love you, even though we lived like animals struggling to survive, at some point it was comforting to know that you would live another day by my side.

I don't know at what point we began to embrace each other.... I don't know at what moment I opened my shell to you that had been closed so as not to show weakness, at what moment we both began to long for each other? When emotions were forbidden in that hell where freedom was a luxury and living a necessity.

I thought we could escape, that we would be happy out of that place, so I followed the foolish plan of the one I considered my friend at that time, but he was not, a simple rat who betrayed me as soon as he could.

I remember that day when we ran away, we left behind that hellish past but still both you and that bastard were caught, you cried smiling while you pushed me to escape, I did not want to but you begged me.... I saw with my eyes how you 'died' and that ugly image remained in my memories.

Then I wandered aimless until I discovered that the bastard I once called a friend was alive.

Somehow I forced myself to return with the uncertain hope that you were alive... Until at some point, I became that puppet that Pavel wanted so much, all because I was tied to those feelings for you.

Looking for you, I managed to rise to a little stronger and more influential, until that bastard told me that in fact, if you lived and that only made me angry, all those years they could have sent you to me but you were my leash... A strap that was tightening me until it burst when I saw you again 12 years later.

Unfortunately, due to the trauma, when we met again, you had already forgotten about me, yet I did not give up and hugged you until I got tired because deep down, I had clung to the feeling of loving you ... This love that burned, crushed and tortured me with longing made me have mixed feelings.

But for you, I killed and crushed those who crossed my path, I swore I would make Pavel pay for the hell they had put us in, not for anything from now on you were living normally thanks to my efforts.

And now here, feeling your curves on my hands, our lips colliding in desire and despair. I have longed for you so much, I struggled to find you... At what point did your kisses become my addiction? I don't know, because at this point I only wish our paths don't separate.

Your tongue dances with mine, our clashing hips echo in the hot air of the luxurious room. Lust runs through me, my sweat mingles with yours, I know well that our love is a luxury, I know it's wrong to have feelings when I'm still Pavel's puppet, but right now I just want to be Ryu Shi Oh— That little boy who became more than a man, a hungry beast seeking to devour everything and become strong just to find you, the one who loves you and only lives for you. My revenge comes from loving you, I would make them pay for the cruelty they would have put us through.

Our hips echo in the air of the lustful room, your pussy presses against my cock and your juices only make me want to fuck you even more. My hips twitch as you let out gasping moans, your cheeks red with arousal make me smile possessively, I love you with passion and although for years I have been swallowing this bitterness for the feelings that I still did not have clear, I can't take it anymore... You are like the drug that makes me stronger.

"Ryu.... Ahhhh~ I love you so much, you know that... so don't suffer for me anymore, please already– Let's stop with this silly revenge" You let out an agitated sigh trying to find the right words in between lust laden gasps. I know you want me to stop this, but I don't want to be a puppet anymore, I don't want to see you suffer.

I don't want you to be the leash that ties me to Pavel, I don't want to know that you are not just mine, that those bastards could kill you if they wanted to and I couldn't rebel.

Because I know we both hang on the pendulum between life and death constantly under Pavel's strings.

"I love too," I whisper between gasps, feeling your warmth enveloping my cock, your lips tasting like peaches, almost feeling like I'm eating a forbidden but longed-for fruit.

Our bodies move in perfect harmony, fueled by desire and a deeper connection that transcends mere lust.

And despite your pleas that sound more like moans, constantly begging me to stop my erratic movements— I can't help but revel in the pleasure coursing through my veins.

It's as if every caress, every moan, brings us closer to some kind of resolution: an end to the pain and torture that has plagued us both.... Sometimes I think maybe I'm just selfish and that these fantasies of love are only to avoid facing my fears, especially that question that was running through my mind.

You felt the same way about me? I can't help but get angry at the thought that other men have looked at you while locked in that cell where you were treated like a sack of meat.

However, even though I lose myself at this moment, a part of me is still aware of the danger we face under Pavel's watchful eye. But for now, in the midst of this whirlwind of ecstasy, I choose to ignore that dark cloud hovering over me. Instead, I focus solely on you and the boundless love that keeps me sane.

Scratching your back with my nails and you equally with mine, I roll my eyes as I lose myself in the pleasure coursing through my body. Your moans ignite something primal inside me, fueling my lust. Feeling your pussy clenching around me drives me deeper, losing myself completely in the moment. The pleasure intensifies, erasing any sense of time or reason. I thrust harder, wanting nothing more than to give you everything you desire right now.

Our bodies are drenched in sweat and we writhe like dancers in an erotic ballet telling the story of our eternal connection. You whisper sweet words in my ear, filling my heart with warmth despite the cold darkness around us.

Your words pierce through my armor and reach parts of me I thought lost forever.You whimper asking me to stop, but it's not enough, I'm addicted to your scent.

Your breasts are like dough between my hands, my lips collide against your rosy breasts and my tongue plays with those hard buttons because of the lust that emanates from your body. I don't know how much time passed, but we reached our climax, both clinging to our hands.

Like a beast I devoured everything in you— I licked, scratched, bit and fucked you to exhaustion as our bodies became a sticky, sweaty mess. In the end I only know that I love you, that I am possessive and will not let others have you, you are mine and you .... you were fine with that. Years of suffering were worth it or at least that's how it feels to me.

We fell into each other's arms and before we fainted, you whispered an "I love you" and I can only answer you by looking into your sleepy eyes, running my hands through your hair and kissing your forehead. I love you, so much that a scale would not be enough to weigh my love for you ...

Because baby, my eyes don't lie when they tell you that you're mine!

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qqueenofhades · 11 months

Note

Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but its one that I've been reminded of in the few weeks since things have escalated so severely in Israel and Palestine-- I feel like the pressure for random, average individuals online to be vocally political is not only entitled and uncomfortable, but also just an example of misplaced priority.

Like, I have people on twitter right now that are flat out saying if you don't talk extensively about I/P you're truly, irredeemably evil. I've had mutuals say that silence means you're complacent in genocide, that you have blood on your hands (exact words). But it just doesn't make sense? Most of the people who I've seen being flat out harassed for being silent are teenagers who don't have money to donate, working class folks who don't have time to spare, and normal people who just don't have enough of a following online to even spread any word effectively. Of course, the ones doing the harassing are also poor/busy/not-popular, but they don't see the irony. (I've also seen them say that talking about war constantly is taking a toll on their mental health, saying they've cried, had nightmares, panic attacks, etc...but they also say that taking a mental health break from social media is "selfish" and genocidal, so.)

The whole interaction leaves me with so many questions. If stepping away from social media because politics are stressing you out (which they are known to do), are you obligated to use social media? Do you have to use twitter to be a good person? What does that say about people who can't afford a phone, or live in a country where it isn't quite possible? (Are homeless folks inherently genocidal, or is that an "obvious" exception that was never clarified because no one uses nuance anymore?) If you have to talk about world events, lest you side with the oppressor, at what point is something so catastrophic you *must* talk about it? Is there a number of lives lost that is low enough you can get away with being quiet, and a certain amount too high that you're obligated to talk about it? Is it your duty to have the news on 24/7 to make sure you don't miss anything and catch all the global disasters as they happen? How much do you have to talk about something for it to be considered "enough"? Is there a quota??

It just feels like a lot of people are acting as if people who aren't chronically online aren't 1. doing any activism, because the only important activism is social media networking (sarcasm), or 2. are inherently bad people for *not* spending 6 hours a day on their phones. Like, I had someone I thought was a friend say I was a bad person because I was trying to cut down my social media usage, because the timing was "too convenient"... as if that's a normal thing to say to someone, ever. Sorry if I went on a little bit of a rant, it wasn't my intention. I dunno, maybe it's just me; I've seen a lot of people saying this sort of stuff so maybe they are the majority. It just feels really weird to let people that are addicted to social media take charge of who online is "good" or "bad" based off their internet usage. As if we were all catholics or something. If I were to say that current takes on morality were very catholic-seeming, would you know what I mean?

As recently noted, I am myself on an embargo from answering asks related to this topic. I will make one exception because this is important. Please note that any wank in replies or reblogs will be instantly blocked (and I won't hesitate to disable reblogs if necessary). I will not be answering follow-up asks or getting drawn into Discourse. I do not want to do it and it will not be happening.

I have said it before, but it bears saying again: thinking that the only way to Do Activism is to be constantly on social media and immersing yourself in terrible things nonstop and then posting the Most Correct Opinions (and then viciously attacking anyone who is even slightly Not As Correct as you) is absolutely bullshit. If you're engaging with this content so much that it's giving you a mental breakdown or otherwise plunging you into a spiral of anxiety that you take out on other people who are just as far removed from actually doing anything about it as you: why? Do you really think that you and you alone, one random person on the Internet, are the only way anyone else is going to find out about these things? Or do you think you have to perform the Most Correct Opinions nonstop, viciously harass anyone who isn't responding in exactly the same way, and this is the sum total of what your response should be? Especially in a situation as bloody and complicated as this, dealing with reams of religious, social, cultural, and political history where the average commentator on this conflict knows only what's been fed to them by propaganda on TikTok? How the fuck is that useful or constructive for anyone, aside from perpetuating the idea that you have to be angry all the time on social media about things you essentially know nothing about? I can't see that it does.

What's happening to the Gazans right now is no qualification or equivocation, a genocide. It should rightfully be opposed and called what it is. But unfortunately, I have spent too much time around Western Online Leftists to believe they actually care a whit about stopping genocide as a fundamental principle, and only want to be seen to loudly care about what their Ideology has told them to care about. If it means hand-waving aside genocide and atrocities when committed by their preferred polities, so be it. Why haven't these same people been wall-to-wall up in arms about what Russia has been doing in Ukraine, or for God's sake Syria for the past ten years, if they're really concerned about the rights of innocent Muslim civilians attacked by a far-right imperialist power? Why not the Uighurs in China? Why not [insert the blank] of all the terrible things happening in the world as a result of far-right fascist genocidal imperialism? Why only this conflict? Why now? Why does it involve so much excusing of terrorism as long as it's committed for the Right Ideology? Why are some of the most loudly pro-Palestinian accounts on here also the most rabidly pro-Russian? How does that make sense? To put it bluntly, those genocides are being committed by nation-states that Online Leftists like for being "anti-Western," and therefore their activities are actually fine and should even need to be defended.

My point is not to say that what's happening to the Palestinians is not bad. It is. It is awful and inexcusable. However, I seriously doubt the motives and morality of those who are being the loudest about screaming on social media and attacking everyone else for not instantly repeating their views. I seriously doubt that the Online Left actually opposes genocide and accelerationism as fundamental principles, because they proudly demonstrate every day that they don't. Until those vast factors can be dismantled and shown for what they are, and this can be placed into its larger context, I don't buy it and I don't believe this wall-to-wall social media outrage factory is actually aimed at helping the Gazans or anyone else suffering the most as a result of this. It is just to show that they can be counted on to Perform Outrage and harass anyone else who doesn't do the same, and that does nothing for anyone whatsoever.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #once again any wank will be blocked #reblogs will be turned off if needed #i will not be elaborating further #the end

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thatdesklamp · 6 months

Text

Hello, and (for the moment) ‘see you in a while’ from old desklamp.

(Quick edit now I’ve written this all out: Oh, lordie—I’ve just realised that this sounds like I’m announcing I’m giving up on IW. I’m not! I promise. This is all about how I’m trying to facilitate my writing process. IW is not being dropped: let’s get that out of the way first, lmao.)

Hello all! I’ve been doing some self-reflecting, and I’ve come up with this: I’ve struggled with writing ‘Intrinsic Warmth’ for a long time now.

Alll too often I’ve been sat with my laptop for hours having only managed to squeeze out one or two paragraphs that I don’t even like all that much anyway. I haven’t felt satisfied by writing for a long time, and so I just haven’t written anything. It’s been months since I’ve written something worth reading for IW, and I’ve been having a think as to why.

I think it comes down to two things; I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure in writing IW, and I’ve become too fixated on the instant gratification of feedback from you guys.

First: the pressure. IW has gotten bigger than I ever considered it would be, especially recently (as in, in the jjk season 2 era). The support and feedback continues to blow me away, and I’m staggered every time I stop to actually consider the magnitude of the response that IW has gotten. It’s genuinely crazy.

All that is to say: I wasn’t prepared for this!! I don’t mean that in any resentful way at all, I want to be clear. Moreso that it’s easy to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. I know that, relative to other huge ao3 fics, IW isn’t even that huge. But I also recognise that in the ‘Gojo x reader scene’, it’s pretty up there, even if we’re just looking through a ‘filter by most kudos’-ed fic angle. There’s a been big response, and I’m just one person, lmao. But come on, I absolutely love it, and I’m so grateful that people have enjoyed the stuff I’m writing—but as more and more people have been picking it up I’ve felt a definite pressure put upon me. It’s a pressure to write well, and to write more, and to write good things more often. This isn’t to do with anything anyone’s said, don’t worry, but more as an expected consequence of IW picking up traction.

I feel more and more like a ‘popular author’, and feel like I’m doing you guys a disservice with my infrequent updates. I truly do appreciate the reassurance of ‘you can update whenever you want!’, genuinely, but I’m also an ao3 reader myself! I empathise with and understand the frustration that must be felt when I go months between updates. Writing has never come at the expense of my personal, academic or social life (hence why I’ve never tried to tie myself down with an update schedule: I’d never be able to keep to it), and I’d never want it to. I want to keep writing as it’s always been: one of my hobbies. But as IW increases in popularity, it feels like it almost *should* take priority over other things, and this has left me feeling pretty overwhelmed.

My second reason: I’ve also become a tad too dependent on feedback. When IW was in its fledgling stages, I didn’t show it to anyone at all, and was ‘writing for myself’ in the barest sense of the phrase. Only one of my irl friends has read any of it, and when I was first uploading it, when I had about 5ish comments per chapter, any feedback I was getting would always be secondary to my own. I was writing for myself, because I enjoyed writing and I enjoyed what I was writing about, and it just so happened that there were a few people who felt the same as me.

It’s very different now! And I much prefer it now—it’s every writer’s dream to have had such an overwhelmingly positive response to their writing. And now it gets to the point where I can check my emails, or look at my tumblr notifications, and there’ll always be new for me. And whilst I absolutely love this, it’s pretty addictive, checking again and again, seeing what people are saying. This positive response from others is more instantly gratifying than the slow, steady, personal enjoyment I get from writing.

It sounds silly, I know, but I’ve been writing this hunger games fic (completely spontaneous, likely never to be published), and no-one’s read it but me, and it’s reminded me how much I really do like writing. I’ve loved the process of writing it, because the only person whose opinion I’m listening to is my own.

I don’t want to discourage people from reaching out to me, leaving comments, even talking about IW, anything like that. That’s not what I mean. But this is me recognising that I should probably take a step back from the non-writing side of writing: being active on tumblr, constantly checking asks, making posts, etc. Know that whilst I may not immediately respond to you, once I get back in the swing of things over here, I will do. I just need to sort out my personal priorities a bit, I think.

Saying this, I know I haven’t been all that active recently (this has honestly been intentional: I’ve been trying to wean myself off it, lmao) but for the immediate future, I’m making that more definite: I’m going to try to revert my focus to writing. I’m going to stay off tumblr for a bit, until I’ve gotten back into the swing of writing and don’t find myself so focused on the feedback side of it all. Hopefully this’ll spark up some more genuine passion in me! Please know that if you’ve written an ao3 comment, I have read it. I don’t know when I will respond to them, but I definitely will, I just want to keep my focus on the personal side of writing for the moment.

Thank you to everyone! Again, this is just me going off the grid for a while: not a big fuckoff goodbye or anything. If this is unreasonably theatrical, blame my drama GCSE. Going off to do some writing now. See you guys!

#intrinsic warmth

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rreskk · 1 year

Note

Hello mother of Trevor smut!

Do you write for Michael? And if so... I am in dire need of Micheal fucking reader in front of Trevor (reader is dating Trevor) and reader moans Michaels name so Uncle T gets mad.

Thank you!! -Anon

A good old angsty- drama AND smutty fanfic??? Yes!

Summary: His best-friend made you feel way better... And he hated it.

TW: -Smut -Drug use

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Michael Townley (slight /Trevor Philips as well)

Word count: 2226

Back in the North Yankton days, it wasn’t uncommon for the boys to share girls for good sex. You’ve seen it yourself when chilling in their motel rooms. While you and Trevor would share smokes and watch crappy movies through this static TV, Michael (or Brad) would have this prostitute in the background, fucking her pussy stupid. They’d take turns as well.

It was hard to get used to considering you’ve never seen people so open and shameless about their sex addictions. Even Trevor’s sex-drive was a complete shock to you after every night of sex, he’d wake up horny still. You were constantly bouncing on his dick whenever he wasn’t hiding from authorities or doing God knows what with Mikey and Brad.

However, this one night had changed everything.

Trevor had brought you along to this fairly cheap, shitty motel room. It was in the middle of nowhere. Literally.

“Bro, I’m telling you,” Brad was in a middle of an argument with Trevor, “I’m looking at this fucking map and there’s no booze store or strip-joint nearby.”

You were holding both yours and Trevor’s rucksacks as they continued to bicker heatedly. It was a normal thing.

Michael had sat down beside you with a tired expression. He ogled you for a moment before smiling. Your relationship with Mikey was sweet and close. He always looked out for you in such ways that made you feel… Important. Although you loved Trevor, he didn’t have that “boyfriend material” to him. Unlike Michael. He was pure “husband material” from the way he’d help clean all your clothes, protect you from Trevor’s occasional tantrums, drive you places, steal you period products (etc…)

“You’re a fuckin’ prick!” You heard your boyfriend cry as he’d storm over and snatch his bag from your arms. He hurried through it, pulling out a stash of cocaine and stomping to the small bathroom.

Sometimes… Just sometimes you looked at Michael and wished he was your boyfriend instead.

And sometimes… You think he knows that.

“Great, he’s in a bad mood – “ The bathroom door slammed shut, “… Again.” Mikey muttered.

“He’s a fucking asshole!” Brad attempted to correct Michael’s vocabulary.

“He’s not that bad.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, [y/n]. You deserve better.”

You sighed. Michael was right.

“I’d get myself a proper man, if I were you.” Remarked Brad who kept his concentration on the small map provided by the motel.

“He is nicer when we are alone.” You tried to comfort yourself.

“Really?”

“Yeah. We cuddle, watch movies together… And, uh… We do other things as well – “

“Have sex, yeah. We know,” Mikey exhaled, “Trevor tells us everything.”

“He does?” You felt your heart ache a little bit. Your nights alone together, you thought it was romantic and sentimental. Now you’re realising that he sees as nothing but a stress relief.

“Yes. Is date nights really just blowjobs and handjobs?” He’d ask.

Being honest was painful. When you nodded, it was basically telling Mikey and Brad that Trevor ain’t worth shit.

“I don’t suppose you know if he actually… Loves me, right?”

Michael was hesitant but kept his composure.

“He does love you. He just struggles with expressing it,” He’d tried to explain, “He does think of you a lot, trust me. He knows he ain’t the model boyfriend, but he can’t help it.”

“Right.”

“He’s a bit loco, [y/n].” Brad whistled.

“Listen, [y/n]… I know it’s hard being around him. I mean, I’ve known the dickhead for years and he’s always been pretty manic.” Michael was sitting close to you at this point.

“Well, yeah, he’s literally snorting coke right no – “

“Brad, shut up!” Mikey groaned, his hand hesitantly touching your thigh as he returned his attention to you.

“He’s emotionally unstable.” You’d whisper.

“Very…”

Silence overcame you both. Your eyes drifted to his hand-placements, finding yourself happy when he fondled your legs and sit as close as he could. When making eye-contact, you both smiled warmly.

“I still can’t believe that lucky bastard managed to charm you.” He’d whisper before leaning close, sight fixating on your lips.

You had the temptation for a while, now it was within your reach. The risk… He was only in the other room filling himself with every drug imaginable. You hoped if he was to see this, he’d be too high to see or function.

Bradley noticed the increased tension of you both and sucked in his lips. He decided – last minute – to turn his back and “pretend” he wasn’t aware of what was going on (a cowardice action to avoid confrontation since… He didn’t want to be the target of any fury).

Then he heard shifting on the other bed and cringed. Trevor’s totally going to kill Michael.

You were lying under him as he leaned closer before your lips touched. Your hands touched his shaved head, clasping his jacket, feeling his jaw when you both grew very indulged throughout the kiss.

Michael would continuously peer over his shoulder before you both began stripping clothes. He was anxious as well, you could tell. You didn’t want this to disturb his performance so you guided his lips against your neck and begged him to carry on. He was quick to react and made love to every inch of your exposed skin until you were a hopeless mess.

“You don’t want him to hear…” Mikey murmured in your ear, his hands removing your shirt and bra.

“Guys, c’mon… If you’re gonna fuck, I ain’t gonna stay around!” You heard Bradley murmur as he stumbled out of the motel room.

“Good riddance.” Michael’s voice rumbled against your neck, his tongue leaving trails of his saliva, reaching your collarbone and lower.

No matter how good it felt, each moan shook with guilt. He was only in the other room, you boyfriend, well… Unconfirmed boyfriend (thanks to his possessiveness), and now you were getting freaky with his best friend.

“Oh, fuck – “ You’d struggle when he kissed down your stomach.

Then a deep ruckus occurred in the bathroom, the sound of things being dropped and whatnot. It was followed by a deep, slurred voice (after the digestion of cocaine).

“Baaaabbeeee!” Trevor called from behind the closed door, “Where’s my fuckin’… Lighter? It ain’t in my fuckin’ bag!”

Mikey froze and gazed up at you. He mouthed something but you were too busy panicking.

“[y/n]? Answer me, baby! I want to have my weed!”

“I- I think… I think it’s, uh…”

“Argh, I found it! It was in my fuckin’ hand.” Shouted Trevor as Michael breathed out in relief and continued kissing your tummy pouch and hips.

His lips reached your pantie lines and your hand itched, grabbing the back of his head for support. He’d grunt in response before pulling down your panties and looking up, waiting for your signal.

“What if he…” Your words trailed off when you stared into his blue eyes. It instantly melts you.

“[y/n], it’ll be okay.”

And with that, you nodded and lifted up your hips for him to confiscate your panties. Michael smiled warmly. He threw it aside and hovered over your naked body. He skipped the usual foreplay you were used to with Trevor. It was weird not having him suck your boobs, leave huge marks on your neck, make out until your lips were swollen.

It was refreshing… Yet when he pulled your legs up to line himself with your wet cunt, it was just hard to miss that extra loving.

“Ah, yes!” Your thoughts about Trevor were washed away when Michael pushed into your pussy. He caressed your thighs when thrusting in and out, holding your legs over his shoulders.

“There we go…” His words were comforting and soft, the opposite of him.

“Oh, God… It’s so good, Mikey! – “

You both were unaware of the bathroom door opening. Facing the bed, Trevor’s high-state quickly crashed down. He held the blunt in his mouth and stared at Michael, who was making you moan louder than he’s ever heard.

The betrayal, jealousy. He was ENRAGED.

“Fuck, fuck!” Your whimpers combined with Mikey’s grunts sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Trevor.

The shock he felt made it hard to speak. He just stood there, weak. He let the blunt drop from his mouth as he watched his best friend fuck his girl. Trevor ogled the way your body shook when being fucked. He watched you stare up at Michael with nothing but pure lust and admiration. The jealousy quickened after your moans only increased in pitch.

“Mikey!”

Deciding to make his awareness known, Trevor stepped closer to the bed and make eye-contact with you. You gasped and held your breasts, as if that helped the situation.

“Uh, yeah… Oh, fuck – what? Huh?” Michael noticed your shocked expression before he peered over his shoulder and saw the murderous glare from his best buddy, “Shit, Trevor, bro! – “

“The fuckin’ fuck! Are you fuckin’ my girl, Mikey? What… [y/n]? What the fuck is this!” He’d outrageously shout, eyes burning with Hell.

“Trevor,” You breathed as Mikey continued to thrust despite being caught, “Please, Trevo – Ah! Michael! Yes!” Then he found your G-spot, ruining your chance of an explanation by pathetically moaning his best friends name.

“Sorry, Trevor.” He’d pant through the cycle of hitting your G-spot until you were both on the edge of a good orgasm.

Even though he was completely furious and psychotic, whenever Trevor watched you moan, it was arousing. He held his tongue. He developed a boner, raging like his anger. He wanted to yell, he wanted to punch Mikey, but most of all, he wanted in. He tried to ignore this fantasy by screaming insults at you both.

“YOU ARE BOTH JUDAS!”

Yet it toned down after he couldn’t contain himself. Michael, using his thumb, rubbed your clit as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy. He worked hard to see you so beautifully shaken.

“Mikey! Ah! Yes!” You’d moan unconsciously.

Trevor leaned against the wall, pulling out his erection and rubbing it raw. His glare remained fixated on you. He jacked off to you being fucked stupid dumb. He pleasured himself dry, wishing he was in Michael’s place. The jealousy. He was in anguish knowing that you were receiving the best sex of your life.

“I fuckin’ hate you both.” Trevor growled from the wall, his hand beating his cock until it was bruised and swollen.

“I’M GONNA CUM, MIKEY!”

“I fuckin’… hate you…” Your boyfriends voice turned into harsh whispers as he was intensely motivated on jacking off.

“[y/n]… [y/n]…” Michael breathed and jerked his hips into your, crying out your name. His penis shivered and soon enough, you gasped as you climaxed, cum caking his dick that was begging for disclosure.

“AH! YES!”

He fucked you through the orgasm before pulling out and touching his tip, encouraging his semen to squirt and paint your tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled. The climax, for Michael, looked much needed since he stumbled onto his knees and placed a hand on your breast, struggling to breathe.

“Mmm.” Trevor huffed when witnessing the hot-mess. He clawed his cock, even though it was burning with brutality. He whispered your name and when he made eye-contact with your guilty face, his mood grew more hostile and his masturbation got increasingly heavy.

Michael quickly stood up and tucked away his length, deciding that he had tortured his buddy enough. He gave you knowing glance, a signal to maybe… Get dressed and leave the room to give him some space.

“I thought we were done with sharing her. She’s my girl, now.” Trevor grunted at Mikey, his hand suffocating his cock.

“She needed some real love.”

“Fuck you, Mikey. Fuck you. FUCK YOU!”

“Sharing is caring…” Was the last thing he could say before a lamp was thrown his way.

You took that sign and dressed yourself, following Michael’s lead out towards the door before he called your name.

“[y/n]… Don’t fuckin’ leave. We ain’t finished here.”

“Trevor, I’m sorry, I really am – “

“Save it. Just stay here. I ain’t gonna let that cunt touch your pussy again, you hear me?” He hissed.

“I am sorry though.”

“Oh, yeah. You looked it.”

“Trevor – “

“I don’t do forgiveness. You can’t even earn that shit from me. But I’ll get my way.” Words barely made it out clear as he was close to his orgasm as well, masturbating with pure stamina due to the high drugs in his system.

You sighed, shame making you feel sick.

“C’mere…” He’d order.

You hesitantly walked over before he came all into his hands, moaning your name in the process. He made you watch as his dick squirted semen against his shaky palms.

“Yeess…” His groans were low-key, almost sounding angry itself.

Then he wiped all that cum onto your face with a sick grin. He rubbed every inch until you were covered.

“There we go… I feel a tiny bit better…”

It was so warm and sticky. You held back the urge to shiver considering it was overstimulating. Trevor then caressed your bottom lip before he walked past you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He walked out of the motel room in silence and left you to think about what you have done, and what is about to happen next.

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