#but as long as I can follow the story and work a bit harder to translate the words into pictures of horror in my brain it's a win

[monstermonstre]

I've fallen behind on dracula daily right before the 50 pages update and I can't read on my phone for too long before getting distracted or falling asleep so I've been trying to find alternative ways to catch up fast without having to read half a book on a screen that wasn't made for it

I tried getting the novel on my ereader to see if I could hop between sections so I could still read chronologically but turns out stoker Really didn't intend for it to be read that way because the book is divided in a way that would make it very difficult to do

so the solution I found was copypasting the text from the substack archives into a free online text to speech program...

and even tho the voice is close to the passive aggressive tiktok default voice and it reads the abreviation for "doctor" as "drive", "mina" as "my na", and gets which "lives" is being used wrong most of the time, it's working🙏

[hornyjail23]

Here is the second story to the poll I had

Dom tentacle monster x reader

You went down to the beach to relax. As you walked along, you found a small cave in the rocks. You decided to go explore. You could tell from the tide pools that the tide would rise enough to come into the cave but not so much as you wouldn't be able to get out at high tide.

As you looked through the tide pools you felt a small grasp on your ankle. You were expecting a small inquisitive octopus but instead you only saw a long tentacle reaching out of a small hole.

You watched as it slowly wrapped itself around your leg as another tentacle immerged from the hole. You knew what was happening. You read stories in the news of tentacle monsters but they were always far off. You didn't expect to find one so close to home. You could feel yourself get aroused as the tip of the first tentacle reached the hem of your swimsuit and the other started up your other ankle.

You take a few steps further deeper into the cave, away from the wave pools with the hard rocks to the softer sands as the tentacle monster following you. You sit down in the sand as it fully comes out of its hole. It watches you closely as it begins tugging down your bottoms to your knees.

You're not sure if it could smell your arousal or just seeing it free of clothing but the monster sped up it's advances on you. Both of your legs were now wrapped with the tentacles and others were now feeling it's way up your body to pinch around your nipples, occasionally sucking on it with a sucker and pulling up, making a popping sound.

It is now rubbing on your bits. You were biting your lip to stop from moaning out loud as it proceeded to lube you up with it's juices. Two small tentacles begins slowly stretching your ass as 1 keep rubbing on your front.

It finally found your sensitive spot. You couldn't help but loudly moan out and snap your legs shut on the tentacles. It quickly regain control and forces your legs back open as another tentacle is now muffling your moans as it pushes it way into your mouth. You try to stop it from rubbing that spot but as soon as you touch the tentacle monster, more tentacles wrap around your wrists and pin them to your side.

As if you weren't even pushing and struggling back, it folds your legs up and wraps the tentacles around your wrists and legs together. 'If this was a person, they would have you in a mating press,' you thought. As if it heard your thoughts, the tentacles working on you enter you and keep rubbing your sweet spot. You instantly cummed against it. But the monster wasn't done with you.

It adjusted itself until it's mouth was over your front and began licking up the mess you made from your orgasm. The whole time, it continued to pump in and out of your holes as if you never came. Once you were cleaned up with it's tongue, it made you a mess again by cumming all over, in and on you.

You felt it relax a bit. You were now allow to get up but it still hung on to you, it's tentacles still in you. You went to walk over towards the exit before tide got to high, it found a large rock to bend you over and began fucking you some more. Your eyes rolled up from the fresh feeling. You were already so full from it's last orgasm that you could feel it oozing out as it thrusted in.

You could feel the tentacles were getting rougher with you. It pulled harder on your nipples. You can feel that it was now leaving function marks all over your body. The tentacle that is fucking your mouth wrapped around your throat as it began to fuck itself deeper down your throat, you could feel it tighten as the bulge of tip worked it's way down your throat. The tentacles that were holding your legs open were joining the others to stretch you further and fill you up more.

This time you came again with the monster. When is pulled is self out of you, you felt hollow. You rolled over onto your back. You watched it retreat back to the hole it first came from. But now high tide was in. You could swim out. Well normally you could but now your legs were noodles. There is no way you could swim out now.

You looked at your body and it was covered in dots and spots of all different sizes from the suckers. You decided that your only option was to take a nap and wait either for the tide to roll back out or until your legs had strength.

When you awoke, you could see the tide did recede. But you couldn't move. There was the tentacle monster again lubing you up. But it appears it has told it's buddies as there was 2 more now working there way to you. You can't believe it yourself but you already felt excited with what was to come.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

My heart hurts so bad for Aziraphale because I can honestly just relate to him so, so, so much.

(not putting this one under a cut so warning season 2 ahead, I'll tag it at the bottom too)

Aziraphale says, "Nothing lasts forever," but I don't believe for a second he doesn't wish that it did.

He WANTS things to go back to how they used to be. He WANTS the seraphic Crowley squealing with joy as he cranks up the universal machine and sets the stars aflame. He WANTS there to be no sides, he WANTS to believe in the idea of the host united, he WANTS to go back before Crowley got himself in trouble by asking questions. He wants, I think, to be in that moment of creation and adoration forever.

Change seems to frighten him. There's an aspect of uncertainty. There's an element of chaos, the loss of control. I understand this deeply. And what the Metatron offered him was just that: certainty, control, the ability to dictate his own narrative.

I used to be in a toxic job. On top of it, I had intense anxiety and other undiagnosed neurodivergencies that made it even harder to fit in and understand the untold rules I was supposed to follow to get along. When I first got there, it wasn't so bad -- perhaps I was, like Aziraphale, also a bit idealistic. Then there were some changes that brought instability, significant more anxiety, and a lot of nights spent agonizing over my lack of control over it all.

My friends and significant other tried to convince me to leave, but I didn't want to. I didn't know what else was out there. I didn't know if it would be worse. I didn't know what kind of stability it would have.

Then my manager left, so that spot opened up. I had worked there for a long time, and honestly, I never saw myself going into management. I didn't think I could. I wasn't sure I even wanted to. All of that extra stress, on me? Not to mention, getting FURTHER into the job that was taking a massive toll on me? But then...

Then I would have control. Then I could run things the way *I* had always thought they should run. I wouldn't need to worry about who would replace my manager and whether my life would be a living hell -- I would make it what I wanted it to be. Upper management was really pushing for it, so I applied.

To make a long story short: I don't think it went very well. I didn't have the support I needed. I didn't have the emotional skills I needed. I think I did my best, but I'm not fond of those times. At the time, I was SURE that I wanted to move up even more, I was SURE this would make it all better. I thought this was what I REALLY wanted.

But that's not what I needed. What I needed was to get out, and eventually I did. Even as ready as I was to leave, it was absolutely agonizing. I could barely stand to handle the unknown. I was going to work together with my spouse, actually, and I was so excited for that, but I still... I still was upset and worried sick over the dramatic change that would befall my life, after I had made the decision to leave.

That's where I can relate to Aziraphale. I wonder what would've happened if, before I had actually left for good, the head honchos had come up to me and said, "We want to keep you -- how about we offer you (an even higher position)?" -- would I have said no, or would I have wanted to make a difference?

Funny, I said exactly that, too. That's almost why I didn't change jobs in the first place. I said, "But I feel like I'm really making a difference with what I'm doing now." But what pushed me over the edge was realizing that none of that mattered to them, it was all about THEIR control of ME, not the other way around.

I'm so intensely curious to see what happens with Aziraphale next, but I'm sure he will learn what Crowley understands: nothing lasts forever, and sometimes it's good that it doesn't -- even if sometimes we wish it did.

[josiesullysblog]

Not so Small Now?

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~Fluff, breast play?, touching

~Proofread?-yes

~Summary-You are older then Neteyam by a year, Neteyam is a love sick fool and you tell him the only way you mate is if he grows taller then you.

You were 365 and one whole days older than Neteyam. So, your whole life you felt like you had an advantage. In your tiny four-year-old mind you could tell him what to do because you are the oldest. And he blindly listened, “Neteyam go fetch me some beads for my hair!” He’d send you a toothy smile, “okay!” “Neteyam can you find me the biggest fish, please!” “okay, Nova!”

Now, Neteyam was in love with you the minute he met you. Always followed behind you, you were the only person he let walk all over him. You found it fun having the boy wrapped around your fingers, but you never asked too much of the boy.

When you were nine and he was eight, he brought you a handful of flowers, “my Nova!” You had been playing with some older kids when he came running. The older kids started snickering as they noticed his eyes were glued on you, “are these flowers for me?” You smiled and took them in your hand, “can you be my mate?”

Hope was laced in his eyes as the kids behind laughed harder, “she can't mate with you!” You shot them a glare, “I can do whatever I want,” you walked off with the flowers in hand and Neteyam on your trail. “So, does this mean we can mate?” you shook your head, “thanks for the flowers, but we can't mate! We are far too young!” Neteyam frowned, “when we get older will you mate with me?”

You pretended to think a bit, “I’ll mate with you when you become taller than me!” He smiled big, “I've found a mate! I’m going to tell Lo’ak!” he ran off quickly while you sighed, in your little mind he was never gonna become taller than you because you were older.

Neteyam ran all the way home with the biggest smile, “I’ve found a mate!” Neytiri turned quickly looking at the boy crazy, “son, you are far too young to think of such things,” Neteyam shook his head, “I and Nova are promised in the stars! I just have to become taller than her!” Neytiri snickered a bit laughing at the boy. “Well, I can't wait for that day,” Neteyam nodded before finding Lo’ak and telling him the same thing.

Long story short, you were wrong. Very wrong. You had completely forgotten about the bet. You had picked up many new hobbies, one being drawing, so your mind was moving too quickly to even stop and look at the boy. To notice the now twenty-year-old is no longer a child, but a man. Neteyam didn’t forget, he was waiting till after his ceremony to trap you. Not in a weird way, just when you two can be alone. So he can finally confess how he truly feels. How for the last year, since your ceremony, that no man attempt to court you. Your beauty to him was something he only should cherish.

As the months came by quickly, Neteyam’s ceremony was coming quickly. You didn't think much of it, but for some reason, a pain hit your heart when you thought of Neteyam with another. But that's crazy because he was just the boy who followed you around. Right?

You sat in complete silence as you drew the scenery around you. Besides the movement of the wind and the slight rustle of the trees, you were in such a peaceful state you didn't notice Neteyam lurking. You got up leaving your work on the floor to go get some water by the river. You hummed a song as the boy matched your pace, unbeknownst to you.

You bent down carefully feeling the water, you sighed with contentment, “feels good?” Neteyam said coming out from the bushes. You quickly turned as you heard the familiar voice, “teyem I told you to stop scaring me!” the boy simply smirked as he joined you, “well, that wouldn't be much fun.”

Your eyes stuck on the boy as he took his place next to you. Was this the same boy you grew up with? Because the boy in front of you made a slight blush cover your face, and your heartbeat go up a little. “What are you doing this deep in the forest anyway? Don’t you need to be preparing for your ceremony?” you gave the boy a playful smile. “I wanted to see you,” you stood up causing the boy to. He gently grabbed your arm pushing you onto a tree. It was then that you noticed how much the boy had grown. How he was much stronger than you, how held be able to do anything to you.

He chuckled as a noticeable blush covered your face, “not so small now, huh?” you looked away from the boy who was quick to grab your chin. “Aw, the baby can’t keep eye contact?” you crumbled under his gaze, “shut up, Neteyam,” his gaze only intensified, “I've been quiet about how I've felt for the last year, baby.” his hands trailed down your body as he spoke, causing small gasps to fall out. “For the last year, ever since your ceremony, I’ve prayed to Ewya that you may never find another. Or I don’t know what I'd do,” his words caused a feeling in between your legs. His hands stopped on top of your breast, softly touching the nipples, he squeezed the nipple hard, a loud moan coming out as a result. “Dear Ewya, even now I'm so tempted to bend you over and fuck you.”

He dragged your hand over his hard cock, “feel this? This is what you do to me, pretty girl,” your eyes were locked with the boy’s as he continued his assault on your breasts, you gently placed a hand on his face bringing it closer to you. “If you don’t stop now, we’ll get in trouble,” your words of reason were true, but you wanted him to continue going.

“Listen to me, the minute we are finished with that ceremony, I'm going to fuck you.” he let go of you, helping you off the tree. The whole walk home, your mind was going crazy. You could not wait till after that ceremony.

***

Lazy ending ik:( I’ll definitely try and update this, but thankfully I was able to write! I have an important test coming up so I won't be able to write till this weekend but hope you enjoy it!!

[muddyorbsblr]

onyx pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Thor's return to the Compound reveals that your new pet kitten wasn't quite what you thought he was

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language (it's like 2 cuss words but i'm still not sorry, Rogers); the lightest sprinkle of angst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: himbo Thor hours

You couldn't believe what you were hearing from Thor. Implying that the sweet tiny kitten on your shoulder was actually the god that wouldn't even spare you a single glance sideways. The one that barely even registered that you existed.

"Thor no. It can't be. This little bub is small and baking biscuits on my cheek. He purrs. He's cat-shaped. Onyx is a cat. He's my cat. And right now you're scaring him being all up in his face like this. I say this with so much love…Thunder? Back the fuck off." Your kitten shivered even harder as he snuggled into your neck, keeping his little face buried in your hair.

"Lady Y/N, I know my brother's eyes anywhere. Especially after he disguised himself as a snake when we were merely eight years old and--"

"Changed back and stabbed you. Bleh it's me. I know the story, Thunder," you finished for him, suddenly exceedingly aware of the weight of maybe-Onyx-maybe-Loki on your shoulder despite the tiny feline frame. "But I'm telling you there's just no way that my cat is--"

You looked into Onyx's eyes and immediately your shoulders dropped, realizing that it wasn't a coincidence that his eyes were a familiar shade of blue. Thor was right; he knew his brother's eyes anywhere. The kitten embraced your face, pressing his nose to your cheek repeatedly.

"Onyx, look at me." He stilled against your cheek, his wide pleading eyes looking into yours with something that looked akin to resignation. "You were hissing at FRIDAY and Shaun about getting chipped because you understood everything we were saying. Am I right?" He didn't move, the pupils in his eyes growing wider and the corners of his eyes starting to fill with tears. "Because you're Loki?"

He took a deep breath, this little chest puffing up with air and suddenly looking significantly less cat-like than he did a minute ago. Onyx -- actually, Loki -- pressed his face to your cheek again, the action now making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Then finally he nodded,  and the air left your lungs.

You walked over to  your apartment, Thor's heavy footsteps following just behind you, and placed Onyx/Loki on your desk in front of a notepad and a pen. "Talk." He looked up at you again with those wide pleading eyes. "Please," you added, unsure of what to feel now that the last few hours you spent with your newfound pet was being colored with the context of who he actually was.

Too many thoughts, too many questions, floated around your head, nearly overwhelming you, as your last round of pain meds began to wear off and the discomfort you were feeling gradually became a throbbing pulsating sensation throughout your left side.

Most of them revolving around why he acted the way that he did in this tiny form with you, and how long this could have gone on if Thor hadn't revealed his identity within ten seconds of seeing him. The blond god pulled out a chair for you to read along as Loki's green magic surrounded the pen and words began to form on the paper.

I made a misstep while practicing my magic and cast a spell that turned me into this diminutive feline form. I had exited my quarters earlier today to find assistance in retrieving the spell I require to reverse its effects.

"Hold on." The pen stopped mid-stroke, the cat looking at you with your hand held up. "If you can make things move with your mind, why couldn't you just get the spell book--"

"Grimoire," Thor corrected you. "He gets a bit testy when you use the other word."

"Right then, why couldn't you just move the grimoire down and reverse the spell on your own?" The pen lifted again, you and his brother crowding around the paper to read his answer.

When I scale down my form to something so vulnerable, my magic is not as potent. In theory the grimoire is only just at the limit of my powers' reach in this form and I run the risk of crushing myself with the tome.

"Loki, are you telling me you need help reaching the top shelf?" Thor chortled at the question, sounding like he was struggling to keep his chuckles at bay. "Can it, Thunder, it's not that funny." The cat nodded at you, starting to stand on his back legs again. "Okay, so why not ask your brother? He's way taller than me."

"Oh that I can answer for him, Lady Y/N," he quipped, raising his own hand up in the air. "My brother doesn't trust me around his possessions. Something about how I have a tendency to break his things."

"You know what, that tracks," you muttered, standing and presenting the kitten your hand. "Come on then, let's get you back to normal." He hopped onto your hand and you were about to put him on your shoulder before you stopped, keeping him perched on your hands instead. He meowed at you, starting to climb up your arm before you picked him up again, keeping him in your hands.

"Think my brother wants to be on your shoulder, Lady Y/N. Seemed quite comfortable there," Thor spoke up, letting out a soft chuckle when the kitten started nodding enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "Perhaps you should--"

"I let him stay there earlier because he was my cat," you shot back. "Now he's your brother, it's not the same thing." He whimpered, his little cat body shaking in your hands, taking every ounce of strength you could spare not to give in and just place him back there. He kneaded at your palms the entire way to his apartment, Thor carrying around your stepping stool.

You all got to Loki's study, setting him down on the desk as he guided you to the grimoire he needed, shaking his head at each tome on the shelf that you'd pointed at so far.

"My word, Brother, your attention to detail in these sketches is remarkable, you even got--" Loki hissed at his brother, who was currently standing by a stack of journals, a small sketchbook in his hand. "Alright alright I desist. I shall take my leave. You shall be the one to divulge this information once you are yourself again."

The blond Asgardian's heavy footsteps sounded throughout the apartment until he left, then a few moments afterward you faintly heard his booming voice as he rejoined the rest of the team. You pointed at another grimoire that finally had him nodding his little head, stepping aside on the desk to make room for you to set it down.

"Okay then," you spoke up once you stepped back down to the ground, suddenly feeling more awkward as you stood alone with him in his apartment. "I'll uhh…I'll leave you to it."

You made it to the door of his study before you heard his tiny meow again, seeing him standing on his back legs at the edge of his desk, grabby hands outstretched towards you.

"I'll see you when you're…you again. Later, Loki." The sound of his little meows tugged at your heartstrings, nearly making you turn around and…honestly you didn't even know why he'd want you there with him but you'd stay if only to wipe the sad look from his face. You couldn't deny the adorable little cat much anyways in the hours he was yours.

Then again, you probably couldn't deny him anything in his Asgardian form, either.

An hour after you walked out of Loki's apartment you were hobbling your way back to yours, having eaten enough to take your next round of medications and toting a compound that Banner whipped up in his lab that could maybe help your injuries heal a touch faster. You had half a mind to just cut the sweatshirt off of you once you got inside to avoid the lingering discomfort, but ultimately decided against it.

That wasn't a good enough reason to let a perfectly good forest green sweatshirt go to waste.

You were about to start using the compound on your ribs first when a voice stopped you. "Darling…"

That voice. You recognized that voice anywhere. Giving you butterflies whenever you heard it in mission briefings. Haunting your vivid fantasies regardless of the time or appropriateness. The voice that had you incapable of forming words on any other day.

"Good to see you back," you said, trying to keep your composure around the god.

You reached for your sweatshirt again to cover yourself from his piercing stormy gaze, but before you could, he stood before you, his hand gently grasping your arm while the other rested on your waist. "I received a message from my brother while I was in my feline form, asking if I could check on your injuries. Aid in your healing somehow, if I feel inclined. His words, not mine." Your breath hitched when his thumbs stroked at your skin more tenderly than any of your former lovers had ever touched you. "I would have done it regardless."

Your pulse was thumping in your ears from his proximity, from the way he held your gaze. From the way he held you like he was fighting every urge to pull you to him. Like he would let you step out of it if that was what you wanted.

But all you wanted at the moment was to ask him, "Why didn't you tell me who you were the second you saw me in the pantry?"

The journal Thor was holding earlier materialized on your desk, diverting your attention to the open page. Probably the page that he was commending earlier that made the raven-haired god hiss at him in cat form. The image on the page had the air leave your lungs.

It was a sketch of you.

"My refusal to look at you before was not from disdain, little mortal," he spoke, taking a step closer to you, his hand traveling up your arm and framing your face. You could feel his breath on  your skin. "It was because every time I would look upon your features, I had to fight back every compulsion to do this."

He tucked his finger under your chin, turning you to face him before pressing a tender kiss to your lips that had you weakening in his hold, your stomach violently fluttering as his lips moved against yours. You whimpered against his lips, making him pull you into his arms, weaving his fingers into your hair.

"I've longed for you, precious mortal," he whispered once he pulled away, pressing kisses along the side of your face while you caught your breath. "To know the taste of your lips on mine. The feel of your supple body pressed against me." He kissed you again, lifting you off your feet and carrying you deeper into your apartment. Into your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed, briefly licking into your mouth before pulling away, making light wash over the room with a wave of his hand. "May I heal you, darling?"

Words failed you at the sight of him hovering over you, eyes wide and pleading as he looked on at the bruises and cuts that colored the left side of your torso. You wordlessly nodded your head to grant him the permission he needed to go forward, giving you a soft smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to your bruises.

"Much better," he breathed out, nipping at your skin before moving his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, lips traveling down to your thigh and kissing you over the fabric. "Once I have seen to your injuries, you should know that I have every intention to make you mine." He kissed you just below your belly button, humming against your skin as you squirmed underneath him, deft hands working the tight fabric down your legs. "If you wish to be, that is."

"I do," you gasped out, ceasing to give a flying fuck how desperate and wanton you sounded at the moment. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."

He smiled against your skin, kissing away at the injuries you sustained on your left leg before making his way back up your body. "You've no idea how delighted I am to hear those words from you, my darling." You felt what remained of your clothing melting away along with his, your moan when skin met skin muffled by him slanting his mouth over yours.

You woke up the next morning to the feel of Loki's nose brushing against yours, pressing kisses along your face until you let out a soft giggle from his attentions. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Your response had him running his fingers along your sides, turning you into a squirming giggling mess as you tried to wrestle your way out of his hold. "Good morning, Onyx."

A/N: I heavily debated w/ myself if I was gonna put smut in this but ultimately decided not to because it's a fluff story and I wanted it to stay a full fluff story 🥴 Just know that he did, in fact, give her plenty a mango ride 😏😏

This is probs the last story I'll post for 2023, so I'm gonna wish you all a Happy New Year and here's to the whorish insanity we'll all get up to in 2024. I have a whole lot planned out, starting with more horny bitches cuts and…a certain celebration I've been putting off because I'm drowning in a sea of WIPs 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[sinofwriting]

Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc (Part Two)

Words: 1,927 Summary: What do the 2024, 2025, and 2026 season look like with Enzo Ferrari’s granddaughter having taken over the Ferrari F1 team? Read part one here Note(s)/Warning(s): This is a very different fic to what I normally write. The story is mainly told with news headlines and only has 3 blurbs in it. But if you want me to expand on anything in the news headlines or want to see a part three told also with news headlines for the 2027, 2028, and 2029 season let me know! And thank you to @eleetalks for the Italian translation! Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be.

Taglist | Masterlist | Patreon

2024

January 2025

“I feel like I’m in trouble.” Daniel jokes, as he follows her through the hallways. “I think you just like being trouble.” He grins at her, winking. “Gotta keep you on your toes, huh.” She shakes her head, but grins. “Was the drive okay?” “Better than most. I’ve got a room at the hotel for the next few days as I house hunt.” “No flat?” He scoffs, “for three years? And with the amount of development we’re doing? Fuck that. I’ll go crazy.” She hums, sending a smile to Anita as they pass by her who tuts when seeing Daniel.

“What was that about?” “Anita likes her peace. It’s why she’s worked for us for so long.” “I can be peaceful!” He protests and then immediately makes a face. “Okay, I can try.” She snorts, shaking her head as they reach the dining room.

“Daniel!” Her grandfather greets, a wide smile on his face as he pats Charles hand before the younger moves to her side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Signor Ferrari!” Daniel cheers, moving to the older man’s side and bending to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re looking amazing. It’s the enchante merch, isn’t it?” He jokes, having sent some to both Ferrari’s right before the 2024 season ended. Enzo huffs out a laugh and she watches Daniel’s face as her grandfather sticks out his leg, sliding his slipper off and Daniel’s jaw drops as he sees the enchante sock on his foot. “Healing properties.” “Holy fuck.” Daniel breathes and they all can’t help but laugh. “I told you, nonno that you’d break him.” Enzo grins at Charles, putting his slipper back on. “I’ve got to keep you kids on your toes.” She rolls her eyes, squeezing Charles upper arm, before moving to properly greet her grandfather. Pressing a kiss to his weathered skin and holding his hand in hers for a few seconds.

“Now tell me as we eat how the car is.” He demands as soon as everyone is sitting and food has been served.

—

“He really overdid it.” Charles murmurs as they both work to get Daniel on the bed. She sighs. “He was talking about house hunting here before we joined. The split hit him a bit harder than I thought.” He frowns, eyes sad as he looks at the man that for a good few years was pretty much his second godfather. “Has he said why?” “Racing. This year was supposed to be his last, but 2024.” She shakes her head, a sad but fond smile on her face. “It really hit him how much he wasn’t ready to leave yet and F1 wasn’t ready for him to leave either. She didn’t want him to go this long, didn’t want to deal with the weird long distance and traveling.” She shrugs. “It sucks, but is fair.” “Is it rude to be grateful that we won’t have to deal with that?” He asks, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her body against his as they look at Daniel, who's starting to really drift off. “No, il mio destino. Only natural.” My destiny He hums, pressing a kiss to her neck before sighing and unwinding their bodies. “Let me take off his jeans so he’ll be more comfortable.” “I’ll get him a glass of water and make sure to put another pillow under his head, when you lay like that your neck always aches in the morning.” The last part is a murmur and he flushes at her remembering that. Such a small, simple thing.

When Daniel wakes up the next morning he groans at the dry throat he has and the gross feeling of not changing before falling asleep for the night. Turning to the left, his eyes close for a quick second as he murmurs a prayer of thanks before reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand and draining it.

It takes a few minutes for the water to settle in him and for him to realize that he doesn’t have jeans on. He blinks, but shrugs. It wouldn’t be the first time he stripped while asleep, but those were one of his tighter pairs of jeans.

“Daniel.” She greets when he stumbles out of the bathroom and finds himself in a small kitchen. “Morning Stella, Charles.” He rubs at his eyes, clearing the last of sleep away as he sits in the small breakfast nook.

Charles and her share an amused look when the smell of coffee makes Daniel perk up, his face instantly brightening.

“That smells amazing.” She passes a cup to him and Charles presses the small basket slash tray of sugar, creamer, and things closer to the Australian. “Thank you.” He murmurs to both of them before doctoring his cup, murmuring another thank you when a small bowl of fruit is placed in front of him, Charles doing the same.

“I had your luggage delivered to the house.” She states when Daniel is fully awake and halfway through his fruit bowl. His brows press together, hand stilling. “What?” Charles brings his cup to his mouth to hide his smile. “Your luggage, it was brought to the house. Nonno is the only person that lives here full time, Anita, Matteo, and Luca live here when we are not and sometimes when we are. And Charles and I have this whole wing to ourselves, this kitchen, a small living space, a few smaller rooms that were converted into offices, and four bedrooms. We’d like to have you live here as well. Or in the guest house.” Daniel blinks at her. He had forgotten how much she steamrolled and bulldozed through things, it made his lips twitch up into a smile before he turned his attention to Charles. “And you're alright with this?” “You’re family.” Charles states and Daniel can feel tears spring to his eyes at the easy way he says it. “We may have lost sight of that for a few years and only regained it recently, but you are family, Daniel.” He swallows thickly, “fuck.” He breathes, a few tears running down his face before he nods. “Alright, kids. I’ll move in.” And then in a move that shocks Charles, Daniel places a hand on the back of his neck and draws him close before he kisses his forehead and the gesture makes Charles well up. “Jules will kill me for letting you drown for so long.” Charles shakes his head and neither man notices that she has left the room, leaving them to a grief that they share. “No. He’ll be proud we became family again.”

May 2025

She smiles as she watches Ferrari get another 1-2 podium, the third of the season already and it was Charles winning his home race once again.

“You are glowing.” “Maman.” She says, turning slightly to look at Pascale. “I promise that we aren’t hiding anything. We just got married. It’s a newlywed glow.” Her mother in law huffs. “And when will I get my grandchildren?” She shakes her head. “You and my grandfather both. Eventually, I promise. Not right now though. Neither of us are ready for that.”

November 2025

“Daniel, do another lap.” “What?” The word comes out a bit loud and harsh but he listens to Stella, ignoring the checkered flag and starting another lap. “What’s going on, Stella?” It’s quiet for another moment but as he approaches the straight, she speaks. “Daniel, congratulations. You are the 2025 world champion!” “What?” He slows as he takes the turn, her words not registering even though it had been all anyone had been talking about since the weekend started. “You won, Daniel! You’re a world champion!” “Holy fuck.” He curses and as he gets on the straight he realizes why she had him continue and he stops the car in the middle of it, grandstands perfectly able to see it as he quickly unbuckles his harness and gets out to stand on the car, raising a fist in the air as he screams.

2026

@cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @crystals-faith @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous @skepvids

[septembercfawkes]

7 (More) Things I Wish I'd Known as a Beginning Writer

Last time I shared seven things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. Unsurprisingly, that wasn't an exhaustive list, and I've been thinking about it some more. So, I present to you, seven more things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. . . .

1. The Central Relationship Needs an Arc and an Actual Plot

Many of us have been told we need a relationship plotline in our stories, but few of us have received any guidance on how to actually do that (unless, of course, you are writing romance).

And in my first novel attempt, back in the day, the central relationship was not romantic. I had an idea for what the relationship was like, but partway through the story, it wasn't working. And it was becoming super annoying.

What I didn't realize was that it was annoying because it was mostly static. Nothing was changing. The characters weren't growing closer together or further apart. Instead of the relationship plotline having "peaks" and "valleys," it was mostly just a straight line.

Of course, I knew it was going to change at the end.

But what I didn't understand was that it still needed a plot through the middle. 🤦‍♀️ Which means it still needed the basics of plot: goal, antagonist, conflict, consequences.

Not just interesting interactions and conversations. Not just banter and pastimes.

In my last post, I mentioned the three basic types of goals: obtain, avoid, maintain.

Well, in relationship plots, this translates into these three basic goals: grow closer to the person (obtain), push further away from the person (avoid), maintain the relationship as is (maintain).

The antagonistic force is whatever gets in the way of that. If your protagonist wants to draw closer to this person, then an antagonistic force should be pushing him away. If he wants to be apart from this person, then the antagonistic force should be pushing him closer. If he wants to maintain the relationship as is, then the antagonistic force is what disrupts that. This creates conflicts and should lead to consequences. 

If you have a relationship plotline, it needs an actual plot.

2. Choose a Tentative Theme Early, to Better Shape and Evaluate Your Story

If you've been following me for a while, you probably know I consider these three things to be the triarchy (formerly known as "trinity") of storytelling: character, plot, and theme. 

Each of these elements comes out of and influences the others.

This also means you can use each of these to help shape and evaluate the quality of the others.

It's much easier to write a solid story when you understand all three.

If you have only one or two pieces, it's harder to discern which ideas are just okay and which ideas are great. It's harder to discern what does or does not belong in your story.

The best ideas for your story are going to come from and touch each of those three things.

Most beginners are familiar with concepts of characters and plot.

Few know anything about theme.

And fewer still have the desire to learn anything about theme. It's often seen as unimportant or something that "just happens." Okay, sure, it could just happen. Maybe. 

But writing your story will (in the long run) be much easier if you at least understand some basics about theme.

I have so much to say on theme, it could probably fill up a book (and maybe someday it will), but for now, if you want more information on it . . . I'd recommend starting with this article: The Secret Ingredients for Writing Theme. It breaks down the key elements of theme, which can give you a good foundation.

Even if your theme ends up changing a bit, starting with an idea in mind will help keep your story on track.

3. Your Story Needs a Counterargument

Remember when I was talking about theme, and implied I wasn't going to go into it that much more? Well . . . I guess I'm going to go into it a little more.

The thematic statement is the argument the story is making about life.

But it's not really an argument if no one is disagreeing.

This means your story needs a counterargument (I call this the "anti-theme").

This counterargument will often manifest within the protagonist (as a "flaw" or misbelief or something the character needs to cast off or overcome) and/or within the main antagonistic force. 

It can technically show up in other places and in other ways, but let's keep this basic.

So if your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to be merciful, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to enforce justice (Les Mis).

If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to ask for, give, and receive help, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to avoid, withhold, and refuse help and do everything yourself (A Man Called Otto).

If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to rely on faith, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to rely on technology (Star Wars IV: A New Hope).

The two arguments are locked in a "battle" of sorts, similar to how the protagonist and antagonist are, because they are in opposition to one another (see #5 in previous article).

The arguments need to be "shown" more than "told." And the counterargument should be given fair weight, because doing so will actually make the whole theme (and plot and characters) stronger.

Here are some examples to think about:

4. Writing More isn't Enough to Take Your Work to a Professional Level

We are often told that if we want to be great writers, we need to write more. And this is true. To an extent. 

I've worked with writers who had been writing for decades, but were still at a beginner level.

I have known writers who bent over backward to meet word count goals, only to end up with a pile of slush they couldn't see their way out of.

I myself have spent enormous amounts of time and words trying to write something brilliant.

But for the vast majority of people, putting in the time and word count isn't enough.

What is the point of clocking in more and more hours and typing more and more words if you don't know how professional-level stories actually work?

Don't get me wrong--you absolutely need to put in time and words, and they absolutely will help you improve! And yes, quantity can improve quality.

But also remember this: You don't know what you don't know.

And if you are practicing imperfectly, that doesn't guarantee that one day it's going to be perfect.

If I have lousy technique every time I go bowling (and frankly, I do), that doesn't guarantee I'm going to get any better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong or how to improve or what good technique looks like--no matter how much time I put in.

This is sadly usually true for writing.

I'm not saying that no one gets to the professional level by only clocking in writing hours, but just that . . . I don't think most of us do. And I think some of us could spend decades clocking in the hours, and really, just be spinning our hamster wheels because we don't know what we don't know--we don't know why professional stories are professional level, so we don't know how to improve.

Hands-on practice is vital.

But so is education.

Sometimes it's actually more beneficial to learn about the craft from someone than to complete your Xth writing sprint to meet your word count goal.

If I could speak to my past self, I would tell beginner me to spend more time studying the craft. In the long run, it would have actually helped me get better easier and much faster than clocking in another hour of writing (that would have ended up in the garbage bin anyway). I've put in a lot of hours that didn't get me very far because I didn't fully understand where I was trying to get, or how.

There is always more you can learn. And especially in the writing world, there is always another perspective to learn what you think you already know. Many writers talk about the same subjects, but come at them from different angles, and learning even those different angles can help you refine your understanding of that subject.

I'm not going to say that tomorrow you have to sign up to take a bunch of courses (though you can if you want), but make time to learn about the craft regularly. You may want to ask yourself: Is it better for me right now to write for an hour or to learn for an hour?

5. Conflict for the Sake of Conflict is Actually Filler--You Need Consequences!

There is an adage in the writing community, which is that story = conflict.

And once again, it's true. To an extent.

But adding a bunch of conflict isn't enough to make a story good.

If the conflict doesn't change anything--if it doesn't have at least the power to change any outcomes, then what is the point? It's just stuff happening.

Who cares if a bomb is going to go off, if no one or nothing significant is in danger of being blown up?

Conflicts need consequences to be meaningful.

It's really the consequences that hook and draw readers into the story. Or at least, the potential consequences. It's potential consequences that make up the stakes in the story.

And they draw the audience in because the audience wants to see if what could happen actually does happen. 

Once the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes), they care about the conflict, because how the conflict is resolved will affect what happens next. The conflict now has significance because it changes the direction of the story, it changes the future.

Consequences also improve the story by strengthening a sense of cause and effect.

As I touched on in my previous post (see #4), random bad things happening is actually less effective (and makes characters less sympathetic). And random good things happening is also less effective (and makes characters less admirable). Instead, it's better if the bad and good things that happen come as a consequence to how a conflict was resolved.

This often happens even at a scene level. Just as nearly every scene should have a goal and antagonist, nearly every scene should have conflict. How that conflict is resolved in that scene should also carry consequences and affect what's going to be happening in the near future of the story (generally speaking).

Consequences also allow the audience to experience tension, which, as counterintuitive as it sounds, can be more effective than outright conflict. Tension is the potential for problems to happen. Conflict is actual problems happening. Tension makes the audience feel suspense. But suspense often only exists because the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes) in play.

If there are no known consequences, then the conflict often doesn't really matter to the audience, because they can't see how it will change anything significantly.

6. Starting in Medias Res is Actually Harder, not Easier

A lot of beginning writers struggle with beginnings--which makes sense, because they can be very difficult to write.

And so a lot of beginning writers are told to open their stories in medias res, which translates to "in the midst of things." This basically means you open the story up with some form of rising action (conflict)--usually it's that scene's rising action (see #2 in my previous post).

In other words, you are essentially cutting off the scene's setup.

While this can be effective, and while I may be unpopular in my opinion, I don't feel that it makes things easier. In fact, more often than not, I think it's actually harder to start in medias res.

This relates to what we just talked about above in #5.

When we start a scene in medias res, we are starting with conflict, but if the audience doesn't know why the conflict matters, then it won't hold them for very long.

When you cut off the setup of a scene, you now have to find a way to convey who is there, where is "there," what is there, when, and why we care (the why is the stakes).

--all without slowing the pacing.

This is why I think it's often (though not always) more difficult.

Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying you can't start in medias res, or that you shouldn't start in medias res.

I'm just saying it's tricky.

Instead, I would personally recommend starting just before the scene's conflict. Start early enough to give the audience context to understand what is about to go down: where and when the scene takes place, who is there, what the goal is, and what the potential consequences are. Make the setup long enough to convey the important stuff, but short enough to stay interesting.

Then get to the scene's conflict, the rising action.

You can read more than you probably want to know about in medias res here.

7. Yes, You Really Need to Do That If You Want to Write at a Professional Level

This last thing is pretty nonspecific, as it's not about one particular piece of writing advice. When I started taking writing seriously and going to conferences and listening to podcasts and what have you, I often felt skeptical of what I heard. Now, sometimes that skepticism served me well (and has led to many of my blog posts), but other times that skepticism held me back. What's the difference?

Being skeptical of "writing rules" has, in the long (long) run, served me well, because it has actually led me to better understand the rules, why they are rules, how they work, and how and when to break them.

But sometimes it wasn't that I was skeptical of the rule itself. It was that I was skeptical that I needed to do X at all. I was skeptical that professionals actually did X.

For example, I would hear about Swain's scene structureand think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all this and put all this thought into their scenes. 

Or I would run into a breakdown of character arcs and think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all these things to write a great character arc.

And in the community, I have brushed up against this same mentality from others. Viewpoint is a popular subject. "Do I really need to be in one character's viewpoint at a time?" or "Is it really that big of a deal that I described the viewpoint character's face?"

And I'm like . . . on the one hand, no, and on the other hand, well yes--if you want to write at a professional level and be competing professionally.

Not that no professional ever varies from that, but just that those are exceptions that prove the point.

And it's not even that every professional is consciously doing X thing. They may be doing it subconsciously. But X thing usually still needs to be there, for the story to sound professional.

So yes, you really do need to do X thing if you want to be writing at a professional level.

If you don't care about writing at a professional level, then obviously you don't have to. It's totally valid to write for a hobby or just for fun.

Now I will echo what I said last time. If I had waited until I understood all these things to start writing, I would have been waiting forever. And some things I would have never properly understood without the actual writing process. Yes, we need to be educated on how stories work, but it's also important to sit down and write.

[the-doomed-witch]

Hey can you write a natasha romanoff or wanda maximoff with fem reader with taylor swift's gorgeous? I think that song is perfect for them and it's my fav. Taylor song. Thanks in advance

YOU’RE GORGEOUS

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re the journalist, and she’s a celebrity. You’re drunk, and she’s gorgeous. You know how it goes. // based on Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS + MEN DNI. a really thick tension, almost competing w e/o, jealousy?, everyone’s like reaaally getting drunk, publicly making out, nothing but pining, situationship but it actually works out 💀

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon! i hope you enjoy this 🫶 if you noticed the “hey stephen” no you didn’t 😭 also sorry this became kind of long but overall i loved writing this

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Her flashing green eyes meet your glare as soon as she enters the room, hands tied with her stupid boyfriend. He’s not even just some guy, he’s a fucking microwave.

It was yet another Avengers party, and you were there as a member of the press, again. It was the third one this month, and you were tired of coming up with questions to interview them with. You showed up, asked them updates about their upcoming plans in hopes of a new cover story, ignored Wanda in every way that you could, got drunk, and left. It was a routine for you. But at least you got to drink expensive wine.

Your body tenses up at her sharp death stare, as if she was ready to burn you down. Wherever she went, you moved to the opposite direction, joining a circle of people or excusing them to click a picture of them. Of course, Stephen Strange was a fellow who’d love to get a picture taken, so you follow him.

Wanda sways her hips while walking up to you, her black dress gliding with the movement of her hips. “Hey Stephen, could you excuse us for a minute? Thanks.” Having no opportunity to answer, he nods with a formal smile and leaves you in Wanda’s privacy, all alone.

Placing her glass of whiskey aside, she hugs you. Albeit lightly, but you lose your breath for the second. “Y/N, what a delight to meet you. I feel like we need a lot of catching up to do.” she speaks with a smirk on her face, adorned by curls of her red hair falling down gracefully

You politely agree and grab yourself a drink; it was what you had to do in your professional capacity. Journalists cannot be rude to anyone.

She takes you to a quieter corner of the deafening party, that God knows how even exists. It was dark, but you had a couch to yourselves, just enough space to fit the two of you at a safe distance.

She speaks something, but you don’t hear it, you’re too busy staring at her cleavage. Wanda understands the direction of your pupils right away, and stretches her back, rotating her neck to release the tension.

“I’ve been really tired today. But since we are old friends, I think I should know a little bit about your life these days. How’s everything going on? Have you got a girlfriend?”

Old friends? That’s how you define a homoerotic ass situationship? Really, Wanda? You decide to join her game, and take off your coat, folding it and resting it on your lap.

“Mm, I’d love to say yes, but I’m afraid not. It’s kinda on and off you know.” You adjust your tie, it was harder to breathe with Wanda so close to you. “How are things with Vision?” you counter question her. It isn’t a competition, but you fear giving in against her.

She takes a deep breath, and replies, “I hope none of this goes out into the press.”

“You can trust me, Wans.” You add the nickname as a sign of confidentiality and a personal effect.

“Things haven’t been good with him. I don’t even know what he’s doing out there right now. I’m not even sure where he even is, if he has left the party to go to a club or something. Not that I care anymore…”

“I’m sorry for that, I wish he wasn’t a moron.”

She laughs and slightly hits your arm, “Hey! I’m still his plus one for the night.”

“I guess you should try to find him around here somewhere, then.” you give her the evil smirk. She reflects the same expression and says, “It hurts to know you don’t have a girlfriend yet. You deserve one, for the stunning woman you are.”

It suddenly turns into a game of who can hold back longer and who can roast better. You excuse yourself from the coversation after a little while, and proceed to ask people some questions.

With the glances you steal, you observe that Wanda doesn’t smile for the rest of the evening, not even the perilous grin of hers. The time passes for hours till you are inebriated again, spending your time with the even more drunk host of the evening; Tony Stark.

You stand in a group with him, Valkyrie and Thor around you, all high from unhealthy amounts of drinking. You still hold yet another glass of wine in your hands, sipping between quips and laughter.

“She called me her ‘old friend’… The fuck does that even mean? A friend who’s older than you?” The group laughs with every sentence you narrate to them.

“Girl, we’ve had our fair share of situationships… none of them have ever called me an ‘old friend’… it’s just the weirdest thing to say…”

Thor holds his guffaws back and asks you, “But Y/N, who is this lady that you’re talking of?”

“Well you wouldn’t believe.”

Tony joins in the conversation, “Oh come on Y/N, tell us!”

You notice Wanda entering the little crowd of four of you. She’s just as drunk, but seems to be in little control of herself, unlike you.

You throw your arm around her shoulders, and watch her change the subject of discussion. Maybe she heard what you said, maybe it was involuntary, but she is here to the rescue of you and herself.

In between drinks and limericks by Thor, Wanda’s hand extends to your waist, your arm still around her shoulders.

You both turn towards each other to laugh, but the smiles falter away with the vicinity of your bodies. You freeze for a moment, watching her eyes give you a soft look for the first time in months. Suddenly, she’s the only one in the enormous room, filled with thousands of people. She’s the only one emanating light, in the crowdful of darkness.

Her eyebrows stretch up, with her uncertain expression. For a response, you move your hand to her nape, scratching it softly as you tug her closer to you. She wraps your tie around her wrist, in an attempt to pull you more quickly than your pace.

Her lips feel warm, and delicate. With repeated scratches at the back of her neck, she sighs and pulls your tie even closer, consequently her tongue meeting yours. Your stomach tingles with butterflies till she gives you space to take a breath.

It’s infuriating to feel this way. Out of all the alcohol that made you drunk, only the feeling of her lips brushing against yours managed to intoxicate you.

The lustre of her black dress remains lingering in your eyes when you push Wanda against the bar counter, careful not to hurt her exposed and freckled back. “You’re so fucking gorgeous Wanda,” you speak before capturing her into another kiss, “I hate it so much. God, I hate it so much.”

“Hate me enough to take me home tonight?”

“Oh I could be alone all I want. Unless you wanna come along?”

[black-aurora-nora]

That's What You Get (Yandere!Hawks x Pregnant!Reader)

SERIOUS WARNING: This is an extremely disturbing read with themes and topics that include: suicidal tendencies, cursing, verbal abuse, blood, self-harm, infantilism, forced pregnancy, purposeful miscarriage, descriptions of gore, physical abuse and mentions of rape.

Please read with caution as you have been warned of the heavy subjects present in this story.

You wondered to yourself what you did to deserve all of this.

What god had decided to push all their anger unto your poor, unfortunate soul with such mercilessness?

What events led you to meeting a red-winged devil pretending to be an angel?

A hot hand grabbed at your hand without warning, yanking it away from your mouth. A trail of bloodied saliva followed and you only then noticed the familiar taste of blood on your tongue.

"Can you fucking stop?" Dabi hissed, turquoise eyes glaring deep into your hazed ones. "Do you want Hawks to lose his shit again?"

Yes, is what you wanted to say. You wanted Hawks to watch as you bit into your fingers with little thought. You wanted him to see how numb you were from all his abuse. You wanted him to know that he did this.

He was the reason you were broken now.

You didn't answer his question or even bother to truly look at him, only bringing your other hand to your mouth and biting down.

Your nail cracked against your teeth and felt slight satisfaction when Dabi cursed again and had to grab both your hands to keep you from doing any further damage to yourself.

"God dammnit, Y/N!" He growled, grabbing the attention of nearby league members scattered about the hideout. "Can someone please take this stupid bitch? I am not babysitting that hero's fuck doll today!"

Entering the room with a long sigh, Mr. Compress switched places with the purple-skinned villain, a first aid kit in tow.

When Dabi exited from the room, a dry chuckle left you but disappeared just as quickly as it came.

That's how most feelings worked for you now. They'd come and go. You were never allowed to truly feel anything for longer than 10 seconds.

Compress eyed you disappointingly, "It's not funny, Y/N." He scolded as he began to wrap your fingers, "Hawks told you to take better care of yourself. The more you put yourself at risk, the harder this pregnancy will be in the long run.

You stilled at that, nausea rising to your throat at the painful memories of Hawks holding you down against the cold, tiled floor and his warm, smooth cum filling your bruised cunt to the brim despite your cries.

That was followed by many more nights painted the same way.

A month later, you found out you were pregnant after Hawks had tested your toilet water.

The bastard was happier than ever but that happiness went right out the window when he caught you attempting to throw yourself down a set of stairs later that day. You'd even looked him in the eyes as you'd started to fall.

It was too bad that he'd caught you. That fall definitely would've done the trick.

After numerous other attempts, the hero finally decided that while he was gone, someone had to be with you at all times for both you and the baby's parasite's protection.

"Done-" Compress finished wrapping the bandages around you fingers, "-Have you eaten lunch yet?"

No, you hadn't. You hadn't moved from your curled position on the couch since Hawks left way earlier that morning.

To please Compress, you ate a few bites of what he made you and sipped some of the soup Hawks had packed for you.

Soon, you were back in your corner of the couch, filling in the permanent dent that you’d made from sitting there for so long.

You shivered as you hugged yourself.

Despite wearing a sweater and leggings with thick socks, you always felt so cold. Even if you were sweating, you were still cold.

You wondered why that was.

And now that you were left alone with your thoughts, you began to wonder other things.

Was your family regretting giving you to Hawks?

How long had it been since you'd seen them?

Did they even care?

What would they think if you escaped now and showed up pregnant?

Would they even believe you if you told them what Hawks did?

They’d probably think you were a slut.

A good for nothing whore that would do anything to get money.

Your head felt like it was about to explode.

Everything felt so meaningless now.

Why did this happen to you? Why couldn't you get control of your life again?

You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling the small hump that would soon be bigger and heavier in just a few months.

And then you'd have to push it out while it tore your pussy apart. Then you'd have to heal for who knows how long, taking care of a screaming, shitting lump while Hawks goes out and lives however he pleases.

As he always has.

...

Were you really supposed to just sit here and accept that?

That's what Hawks wanted you to do.

But how the hell could you?

"Baby, I'm back!" Hawks beamed as he walked up to you, stealing a kiss to your cheek. His smiled faded slightly, however, when he saw your bandaged fingers, "Aw, (Y/N), were you biting your fingers again?"

You didn't answer. You never really did anymore, much to his annoyance.

He sighed deeply and turned to Compress, asking him about how you'd done throughout the day. His expression only soured further at the villain's words and he glanced down at you with unimpressed eyes.

"Alright, thank you guys again for watching her-" He picked you up bridal style, "We'll be back next week as discussed."

The flight home was eerily quiet. You could tell that Hawks was upset with you. But he couldn't be nearly as upset as you were. But you knew he never thought about how you felt.

Everything was always about him.

When you both got home to his condominium, he sat you on the couch, unwrapping and examining your damaged fingers.

His lips were downturned and his brows were furrowed. His golden eyes weren't as bright as they'd been previously.

He wasn't happy with you at all.

Good.

His face made you giddy for some reason and you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from twitching upwards. It was so great that you could almost laugh with genuine joy.

Hawks' snapped his eyes up to you with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Shit, you must've laughed without realizing it.

No, wait.

You were crying.

"Oh, (Y/N), it's alright.” He cooed, “I know you'll do better for me and the baby next time, right?" That was a threat and you felt your mood plunge at the mention of the baby parasite resting in you. "Right?"

"Yeah..." You mumbled robotically. You could give less shits about the baby.

Hawks wasn't happy with how you'd responded but shrugged it off with a mumble of 'pregnancy hormones' and started to make dinner.

Ever since he’d found out you were pregnant, he made you take it easy. No unnecessary movement, as he liked to phrase it.

“So…” Keigo started, washing some rice in a bowl, “you’ve got your first appointment coming up next week. How’d’ya feel?”

You touched your growing stomach underneath your loose t-shirt. Was it really time for that?

No, no this couldn’t be.

If Hawks made you wait too long, you won’t be able to get rid of it and then you’ll really be stuck.

Nausea came back full force and you retched aloud, stomach curling. You turned away from the table and threw up the little bit of lunch you’d had earlier.

Keigo was by your side in a flash, rubbing your back when you continued to retch and gag.

“The morning sickness is becoming more frequent now, huh?” He asked, “Here, rinse your mouth with some water.” His feathers brought over a small cup of water and a bowl for you to spit into.

After rinsing your mouth out, you glanced up at Keigo, something you hadn’t done in a long time and saw how he visibly brightened when you did so.

“Please, Kei… I don’t-I don’t want this.” You told him honestly, your voice heavy with misery.

He instantly frowned at that, lips turning downwards and eyes going sharp, “What did I tell you about talking like that, (Y/N)? What the hell is wrong with you?!” He snapped, feathers shaking.

You stared at him as if he weren’t there and shrugged, “I guess you won’t know until the baby’s dead.”

“You don’t mean that.” He seemed to be telling himself that because deep down… deep down he knew that you meant it. “(Y/N), you don’t mean that.”

You felt the corners of your mouth lift again, “I’m not going to my first appointment because there will be no baby. Hell, there weren’t even be a (Y/N) to take to the appointment.” Now you were really smiling, no more tears to give.

Hawks feathers shook more, a hopeless look graced his features as he brought a hand to his mouth, “(Y/N), I-“ He looked away from your wide smile and void eyes, he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore, “What is happening to you? A baby is supposed to make you happy! Why isn’t this working?”

He walked away without another word, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A burning smell caught your attention and you stepped over your vomit puddle to turn off the chicken he was cooking on the stove.

You took the pan off the still hot burner and placed it on the back one.

If only a burn could kill you.

A glint in your peripheral vision caught your eye and you snapped your head towards the sink. Your eyes widened.

There, like the forbidden fruit, sat a large kitchen knife. You realized Keigo must’ve left it when he was arguing with you.

Now was your chance.

You gripped the knife in both your hands.

You hadn’t seen a knife in so long. Keigo had locked them up when you started ‘acting up’.

You lifted it above your head.

Deep breath in.

Hold it.

You swiftly brought the knife down into your stomach. It slid right in like butter and you surprisingly didn’t feel anything.

With a shaky breath, you looked down and stumbled awkwardly as you struggled to pull the knife back out.

Blood started to soak your t-shirt and stain it dark red. A metallic smell clung to the air and you raised the knife above your head again.

This was easier than you’d thought.

You brought the knife down at an angle and groaned, the pressure of your stab felt like a punch.

One more stab should do the trick.

“(Y/N), I got off the phone with your pediatrician,” Keigo started from the bedroom you both shared, “Turns out, you’re just going through a pregnancy depr- (Y/N)!” He screamed seeing the blood on the ground.

Feathers shot towards you and you smiled wildly as you were pinned to the ground.

Keigo turned you on your side and you let go of the knife, letting it stay in your stomach.

There was no need to do anything else. You’d gotten rid of it for good.

He sobbed loudly in your face, his eyes screaming with despair. He didn’t even recognize you anymore, just like how you hadn’t recognized him for a long time now.

His screams of why were only met with one answer.

“Because, that’s what you get.”

[noetnoet]

Lifechanger - DEMO

Lifechanger is a 18+ real-life romantic drama where you'll play as a teacher who just started a job at a special school.

Content warnings: explicit language, (possible) mention of child abuse, mental health and (possible) unhealthy relationship.

The content warnings may change!

A few days ago you got a job offer at a pretty famous school, the Smith's Academy. You get a good salary, you live only 20 minutes away from the school, and you get a big starting bonus. Sounds perfect, right? Well, it is not as good as it seems at first.

This school is for troublemakers. The bad ones. Most of the kids are misunderstood, some are born evil and others just have the worst parents who put them in this school for no good reason. They all have one thing in common, they make the school feel like hell on earth. Not only the children will make your life harder, but also some of the adults are quite the challenges. This story focuses on relationships and mental health.

This job will change your life forever, whether it's for the better or the worse will depend on your choices. Welcome to Lifechanger.

Character Customisation. Choose your appearance and gender, and choose one of the 3 backstories. Will you deal with your past or let it consume you?

Play as a teacher. Choose between 3 students you can meet. Change their life for the better or the worse.

Romance. Romance your charming boss, an elegant co-worker, or a sweet mother of one of your students.

Complex Relationships: Everyone has secrets perhaps; someday they will come to light. Can you truly get to know your lover and friends?

See how your actions change the actions of those around you, good or bad. One thing is sure: Your choices matter a lot.

Danny Smith [M]: Your charming boss. At first he looks stoic and cold at first , not kind at least, but in reality he has a hard of gold. He enjoys working with kids and the school is everything to him. Maybe too much for him. He is very social but it looks like he never lets anyone get close. Can you truly capture his heart and get to know him?

Alice Smith [F]: Just like her uncle quiet charming, a bit too confident sometimes but it makes her quite attractive. She is the school psychologist and has helped a lot of children already. But not like Danny she seems to seperate work and life more. She cares for her students that is clear but there is something...sly about her. Can you figure out who she truly is?

Dolores Richards [F]: She is a secret fully. Yes she is kind and looks sweet but there is something about her. She married her husband while she was in college, it all seemed perfect but lately things have changed. Can you help her figure out what she wants?

Lisa: One of your students who is going through something that changes her life forever. Can you help her or will you only drive her further into her depression. [1/3 kid stories you can follow.]

Oliver: The son of Dolores and a student of yours . Although he is dressed well and he gets anything he wants from his parents, the things he needs most are neglected. Can you help Oliver find a way to feel fully loved again?

Jaden: A boy born in a poor family and although not on purpose neglected by his parents. He spends his days in school and at work trying to earn enough for his family. Can you find a way to help him and his family?

Other

Lifechanger is currently a WIP. The demo is at 14K. I am planning on updating every 2-4 weeks with a new chapter, the story will be between 30-40k words long. This is my first story so i’ll be keeping it fully free and i hope to learn a lot from it. Don’t be afraid to give me tips or help with my grammar.

Thank you for reading this!

Demo

Feedback

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Long Overdue

Words: 3k+ Type: Some angst, but fluff Summary: The days after the argument. Warnings: Rafe is the softest boyfriend in the world. Y/N has some problems with overthinking and anxiety here. Mentions of alcohol. Mentions of narcissist friends. A filler chapter for you to take a breath in the middle of the angst.

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

You wish you could say that everything went by smoothly after that conversation. But you would be lying if you said so.

When you got out of that car, your hands were visibly shaking. It was out of your control. It was a mix of all your emotions just building up inside you and wanting to come out all at once. It was the frustration, the anger, the disappointment, and the sadness. You hated every single second of that conversation. How helpless you felt at times. The way your supposed friends looked at you as you spoke. It was as if you had gone insane.

Thankfully, when inside the house, Wheezie had run upstairs for a quick shower before your tutoring class, or else she would’ve seen you cry your eyes out in front of her brother. You felt weak for doing so, but you still did it. You cried the entire time you told Rafe everything about what had happened. You noticed how he had no idea what to say or what to do for you, other than give you comfort. And you let him do it, as that felt like what you needed too.

When Wheezie had come back downstairs with her things - since she wanted to study outside this time - you had already wiped your tears clean and didn’t feel like you would cry at every sentence that left your lips. To your luck, your eyes didn’t appear too puffy when she laid her eyes on you, which spared you from many questions.

By the time you were helping her study, Rafe still kept a close eye on you. He would never disappear from your view for too long, always either sitting on his phone on the porch or coming out to the table near the pool, where the two of you were. He made you and Wheezie laugh from time to time.

It lifted your mood ever so slightly, but deep down you still were filled with worry and hurt. How far could this go? Could the girls go further than this? Maybe by telling other people, or simply talking to their other friends about this. Was there a possibility this could get to your parents before you even had the chance of finishing high school as you had planned?

All these questions, they made worry bubble in your blood at the most random of times during that afternoon. By the end of it, Ward and Rose eventually came home. Rafe was by the island of the kitchen when Rose stepped out of the kitchen to get you your monthly paycheck, and Sarah Cameron stood in that kitchen for a single second, and the first thing she said to you was: “Are you okay? You look… down.”

If that did anything to you was to force yourself to put on a better act. You were just about to go home as Ward had asked for Rafe to drive you. You didn’t want your parents to see you and ask the same things. It would be harder to lie to them than to Sarah.

You two sat in the car in silence for a bit, and you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you. Silence only gave you the excuse to want to cry more, even when you still felt ridiculous for it. You tried to hold it back, but whenever a tear would slip, Rafe was there. He calmed you down and held your hand or sometimes said something that would make your heart hurt less.

At home, you forced yourself to make conversation with your parents - knowing that if you didn’t, they would’ve followed you to your room to find a reason behind your silence. All of it was forced and unnatural small talk, but your parents didn’t seem to notice. Your mom was too focused on making a new recipe for dinner, and your dad was too focused on his reading to look up from the book in his hands.

The rest of the day wasn’t any easier. Rafe asked if you wanted to come over, but you know that it wouldn’t make anything easy. It would simply make your feelings go temporarily numb. You didn’t need that. You needed to just face it for what it is: a stupid confrontation that you saw coming from a mile away because it had to happen eventually. It just came sooner than you expected.

Sleep didn’t come easy either. By the time you finally fell asleep, there weren’t many hours of rest before having to get up for class. You hid whatever hints of your exhaustion with make-up, as well as put on a happier expression just so you could make your way through the house and to school without any questions coming from your parents.

Breakfast was uneventful, just like dinner the day before. And your dad drove you to school just as you had planned beforehand.

In class, if you were used to the girls' looks before, this day had been another level of staring. And given the fact that you share every class with each of them, your sadness and worry quickly turned into anger by lunch hour. They didn’t try to speak to you or even ambush you all at once again. They just sat there at their little tables watching you as if you were some experiment about to go wrong.

Kristy wasn’t in school. She missed every single one of her classes. And all that made you think was how thankful you were for the lack of her staring too.

By the time you were done with classes for the day and inside Rafe’s car, you were still in your depressing bubble but more annoyed than anything else. And that is when a call from Patty came in. There was going to be a party tonight.

You're not ashamed to admit you didn’t even think twice before answering her. You wanted to go to that party. And you did.

Not that you remember much from it now that you lay on Rafe’s bed, silently contemplating your life choices, but you like to think that you had fun.

You remember how you got to the party with Rafe, and quickly found Patty, who made sure to give you as many drinks as you wished to have.

Rafe stepped away to find Topper and Kelce only after he made sure that Patty was going to actually stay by your side the whole night and entertain you enough.

You drank cup after cup of different concoctions made by Patty herself. Some were actually good, others… she just told you to drink it all in one gulp.

You were able to disconnect from reality while sitting in that kitchen with her, drinking and listening to her talk you through the process of making another drink. You two talked for a long time, or at least for enough time until the both of you weren’t exactly speaking in obvious and comprehensible sentences but in slurred words filled with giggles.

And you remember that you went off to find Rafe at some point. You remember that he was very much sober at that time. You remember flashes of sitting on that couch with him and his friends. Patty would eventually join you on the couch and start a conversation that would make a lot more sense than any of the guys' around the table. You also remember that it was way funnier at the time than now.

Also, at one point into the night, you decided that playing, or better, patting Rafe’s buzzed head was the best idea you could ever have. Your drunk mind must have been blown to realize how weird it felt to touch his short hair and feel it prickle your palm. Rafe didn’t seem to mind it too much - even though he must have told you to stop at one point because you remember being dramatically hurt by something he said to you.

Maybe you had exaggerated by deciding to numb your thoughts with alcohol when you know that hanging out with these people would simply do the job. You didn’t need to get that drunk. But you still felt like it was the best time to do it, as well as with the best people.

Hanging out with people like Patty and Topper is nice. They were never your type of crowd, but even when drunk or high, last night, they did listen to you when you talked about what happened. It happened when some of you decided to step outside for some air, while others, like Rafe, decided to stay back. You told them everything, and they listened. And they also offered to help, in any way possible.

That memory alone made your heart squeeze in your chest. Maybe, yes, this is how real friends are supposed to be if they are able to. But it still felt good when they told you that if you ever needed to run away from life’s problems for a bit, they would be there for you, along with Rafe.

And to think that conversations like these resulted only from you choosing to date someone with a bad reputation. 

Since the beginning, you had a feeling that you would need to talk to someone about it - you and Rafe. Simply to let them know before they find out from someone else, and everything turns shitty. And, now, all you can do is acknowledge that you missed your opportunity and everything is indeed shitty. 

Your friends found out before you could even warm the waters with some information or subtle hints first. Maybe you could've told them about all the times Rafe hadn’t been like the awful cookie-cutter shape they all seem to find him fitting in at all times. You could’ve told them about how he is not bad and how he is indeed good. But you missed the opportunity to do so. You let them find out by themselves, and now they think you are in bed with a psychopath only for the thrill of it. Not with your boyfriend, who has never done a bad thing to you and is always putting you first.

Yet, even in the ocean of guilt, you can’t help but feel the anger that has begun to rise by itself. Yes, you had missed your opportunity, but your friends had also failed. They failed to speak to you in a civilized way. Failed to be there for you as they believed you were in a manipulating and abusive relationship. Failed to understand you. And failed at being your friends at the end of the day. They didn’t seem to care about your feelings that day, and they didn’t seem to care about anything but their fury toward you this week. They failed, even if you did so too.

And, as much as you hate it, there is still fear inside you. It has been pushed deep into you, hiding in a corner of your brain, stored away with other worries on top of it so it isn’t noticed by you any time soon. And that fear has a shape and name. Your parents. Because if your friends had their suspicions and found the truth, where does that put your parents?

They are a pair that believes in every word from the neighbors, as well as any word on the streets. If someone were to whisper about Rafe murdering a crocodile in the middle of the street, they would believe it - even when there aren’t any crocodiles near any roads in the OBX. They would believe it, every word of it. Maybe make theories of their own too. Imagine Rafe as this cartoonish supervillain, now wearing the skin of his victims as new shoes. It is ridiculous but absolutely believable to them.

How would they react? What would they do to you? You are of age, but still a student and living under their roof. What would they even think of you?

“Scoot over, you’re taking up the whole damn bed,” Rafe says while standing beside his bed.

You snap out of your horrible thoughts - with your mind still trying to envelop your heart with its dark and painful realities - and throw the pillow closest to you at him, hitting him in the chest. He doesn’t respond. He throws the pillow away and makes you move with a hand on your shoulder and another on your leg, pushing you further into the bed.

The coldness of the sheets under you make your body react in an uncomfortable wave of shivers, and you turn to face Rafe, who is lying on his back beside you now. On the bedside beside him, you can see that it is still early in the morning, meaning you still have a few hours before being dropped off at your house and then at school. And also, everyone in Rafe’s home is still very much asleep.

“Looking at the time won’t make it go by faster,” Rafe says, making you look at him.

“I want it to go slower, not faster.”

Rafe meets your gaze, and he holds it for a bit. A slight bit of a headache hits you right in the temple, and you try not to react by snuggling closer to the pillow under your head. Seems like you were never truly someone blessed with no headaches while hungover, just lucky on that one time.

“What’s wrong?”

“Headache.” You groan into the pillow, closing your eyes to escape his gaze for only a bit.

It takes a few seconds before he talks again.

“What else?” His tone is soft and worrisome. When hearing his question, you don’t move; not even an inch. You just lay there for a bit, listening to your own heartbeat with your ear buried in the pillow. You let some heartbeats go by in your silence, but Rafe waits for you. Never pushes you. He just waits.

“I’m… worried, I think.” You whisper so softly, you almost don’t hear yourself.

“About your friends?”

“That too,” You open your eyes as you talk, “But more about my parents.”

“Why?”

“They’re strict. Very strict,” You explain, even though you know that Rafe already knows that, or else he hadn’t been climbing your window and whispering in your room for months. “They always reacted badly to dating. And they never liked you or your family.”

“Many don’t,” he says with a small curve on his lips.

“It’s different,” you try to explain in as few words as you can, “They’re worse than Kristy or any of the girls would be.”

Rafe simply looks at you, silent. You look at him and let out a breath. 

“I don’t know what they’re going to do when they find out...” You tell him, sincerely. “I just want it all to be after graduation.”

He still doesn’t say anything, so, he simply lets you talk.

“I think that’s what I’m so scared of… The fact that I don’t know what to expect from their reaction.” You sigh, “And that is why I wanted it to be later. So I can- I don’t know, run away before they get to do anything.”

“What’s the worst thing they can do?”

“I’m not sure…” You whisper, your eyes meeting his again. “Kick me out, probably. Never speak to me again,” You try to say it with a positive tone, one that doesn’t seem to consider those options to be true, when, in reality, nothing ever felt more possible than this.

Rafe makes a face that doesn’t seem like he’s convinced.

“I can’t be that bad.” And that earns him a smack.

Rafe’s laughter fills the room, and a small involuntary smile appears on your lips.

“Be serious,” You tell him, turning around to lay on your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows. You groan with the slight headache pounding on your head, and Rafe’s hand soon lays over your head, trying to soothe the pain away.

“I’m sorry,” He says.

“I’ll think about it,” You say while meeting his eyes. Some sort of humor comes out with your words, and Rafe notices it. He grins and simply looks at you for a moment.

You two stay quiet for a little longer before you start letting more words out, explaining your worries to Rafe while he simply listens. He just lays there and nods, giving you his utmost attention.

And, as expected, you two talk for so long that time does the opposite of what you want it to. It just speeds past you two, and everyone in the house begins to get up and get ready for the day. 

While listening to the doors opening and closing around the house, as well as some screaming about breakfast from one floor to the other, you two lay in Rafe’s bed in silence. Rafe’s hand is on your pillow, fallen from your hair, and now under your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb while you lay there, hugging your pillow with your eyes closed.

Rafe stares at you for a bit. There would be no way of you catching him doing it, with your eyes closed and body ready to go back to sleep. You are laying on his bed, lacking clothes, and with only a soft white duvet over your legs all the way up to your waist. Your back is uncovered, and your hair is a mess, but the scenery is perfect. Rafe’s heart tightens at the memory of the tears you’ve spilled in the last few days. He can’t help but feel guilty over it, even when you remind him that he has nothing to feel guilty about. 

You’ve told him time and time again. Whatever has happened has nothing to do with him. It has to do with control. Control that some of these people want to have over you or have had for so long - even when that control was disguised as love and worry of you ever getting hurt. Truthfully, it would’ve been indeed love if they wished to speak to you calmly and got to know Rafe. But your friends never dared to.

And Rafe knows how much you wish your parents to be different. Even when you teared up while saying it just now, Rafe listened as your tone was thick with hope - the hope of your parents to be on your side when all of it comes out. And still, all he can do is be there for you until all this ends, whenever that will be.

Rafe leans over and pulls you closer to him, which you let him with no hesitation. Your head lays over his shoulder, and your arms go around him. Rafe hugs your body close to him and kisses the top of your head, cherishing the small breath you let out as he does it.

“I love you,” you whisper to him, your breath warm against his skin.

Rafe leans his head in closer to yours and kisses your hair. There is no surprise for either of you to say it. No fear of the love not being reciprocated. No fear of rejection because all of it is obvious, even in the midst of all this mess. Those words were long overdue.

“I love you too,” He whispers, making you lean in closer to his warmth.

- - - - - -

*Giggles in 'shit is about to hit the fan but I am making y'all suffer in anticipation'*

[captainfern]

Bestie- I know requests are closed and ily and I apologize I'm really just writing this so the idea is in the air and now wasted. But I was wondering if you could do a fic of Price + 141 where reader accidentally used a pheromone perfume.

It WORKS tho, like WORK WORKS. The guys (or just Price ofc) just kinda run on instinct and are super like..RAR SEX ya know??

Also HII IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE REQUESTED!!! My birthday was the 15th, I'm now 20😐 but I also got a car so😋

Anywho glad to be back reading your stuff after I went away for a bit. LOVED the Marigold stories that came out!!!! Love that series sm. Thank you!!

-🌻🐾

aghh this is so late i’m sorry !! but happy late birthday and i hope you had a lovely day <3

here’s a birthday present for you x sorry it’s not a full fic, but i hope you enjoy anyway :)

18+, gn!reader, 141

price

he smells it on you and does a double take like what ?? what is that smell ??

you’re all like “what smell ?? 🙈”

starts rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat, trying to collect as much of the smell as possible on him — he’s gripping your hips and pressing you as close to him as he possibly can while he does it

pinching and grabbing at your hips each time you try and put some space between the two of you. he continues to rub his beard against you, it tickling your soft skin

he’s grunting and not really listening to you as you try and speak to him. the only time he responds is when you say that he can fuck you and he goes off !!

ruts into you hard, nosing up and down your neck, kissing along your pulse. he’s got a heavy grip on your hips, no doubt leaving indents, as he thrusts in and out of you

his sounds are deep, like grunts and groans, and he doesn’t talk much, so focused on that yearning feeling clawing inside him each time he inhaled the sweet smell of you

gaz

you physically show him the perfume and show you putting it on, and he’s all like “that will never work it’s fake 🙄”

spoiler alert: it worked

throughout the day, he’s following you around like a lost puppy, trying to put his hands on you any chance he can, even just holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your lower back — you feel so warm against him and you smell so good he can’t help it

if you applied some on your inner wrists, he’ll place gentle kisses there and along your arm, leaving your skin sparkling with tiny patches of saliva

he whines any time you pull your arm away, especially if you’re carrying on with your day at home as usual after putting the perfume on. he’ll whine and try to get your attention without actually trying to get your attention

when you finally give in, he’s eating you out like no tomorrow — you’ve sprayed a bit on your inner thighs, so he’s pressing his cheeks to them as he shoves his tongue inside your hole

is a whiner and whimperer !! so so desperate for more, tasting you on his tongue and smelling your heady scent

soap

he buys the perfume for you 100%

real cocky about it too. he knows it’ll work and he can’t wait to test it out

tries licking it at first, dragging his tongue across your neck or wrists, and you have to fend him off before the cheeky cunt licks it all off of you lmao

if you’ve sprayed some on your pillows/clothes, you’ll come home to find him burying his face in it, probably grinding his hardened cock into the mattress, moaning your name under his breath

he’s obsessed with you, but you can’t blame him, you’re fucking stunning !! he’s so happy just to start humping up against your arse, pressing his cock against you, moaning loudly

fucks you doggy, pounds you straight into the damn mattress with deep, heavy thrusts that have you mewling, his full balls slapping against you

moans loudly, and definitely kisses wet and sloppy along your spine, leaving a trail of spit as he fucks you harder into the bed

ghost

you watch his pupils physically dilate right in front of you as he catches the smell

he straight up starts salivating too

intrigued by the way whatever you’re wearing is effecting his body — drapes his body over yours carefully, whole body weight against you, your back against his front as he casually inhales in deep breaths

very attentive and loving — rubbing the fat of your thighs and arse gently, hands splaying across your tummy, interlocking his fingers with yours, massaging your shoulders and back

keeps his face buried in your neck the whole time basically. if he had been wearing his black paint, it’d be smudged all across your skin

mmm he fucks you nice and slow, and no matter the pigment of your skin he is sucking kisses and dark bruises all over your neck and chest !! his thrusts are almost too slow, but he’s grinding his pelvis against yours and making you tremble beneath him

praises you the whole time, telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are, how perfect your body is, how proud he is for you taking all of his cock <3

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Eight

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter seven! If you want to see chapter nine, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

 “You heard it here, if you want to find the love of your life, just throw yourself into traffic!  If you’re just tuning in at home, I’m Lucky Flickerman and we’re wrapping up here with Coriolanus Snow, our very own candidate for President and his lovely fiancée!  Before we go, is there anything you lovebirds want to say to the people watching at home?”

The lights were too hot, your dress felt plastered to your skin, but you gave Panem a big toothy smile and looked right into the camera.

  “I just want to thank everyone for their kindness and hard work throughout the campaign so far.” You said, grasping Coryo’s hand, the light catching your engagement ring.

 “A brighter future is just beyond the horizon and as long as we come together, we can build a better Panem.” Coryo said, giving your hand a squeeze.

   “And we’re clear! I can’t wait for your wedding, I’ll be the one with the mic, have you gotten my dietary restriction brochure?”

The wedding was less than two days away and the election month after and it was all just so much. 

How could you be getting married without ma or pa there?

How could you be getting married when your entire courtship was based on one lie after another?

By putting one foot in front of the other because you were not going to turn back.

Too many thoughts dancing around in your head caused you to miss a step on the way off the stage but with a steady hand, Coryo helped you down the remaining step.

   “It’s a bit warm here, let’s go outside.” You said with a tired smile, leaning heavily on your fiance as you two made your way out of the studio and back to the waiting car.

    “After the wedding we’ll have  time to slow things down before the election, I promise.” Coriolanus said, kissing your hand.  You put your head on his shoulder, leaning into his touch, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep but you were whisked away into a final fitting of your wedding dress with Tigris, Coriolanus off to a meeting with Strabo.

  “ It’s magnificent, Tigris, truly. Thank you for doing this, I’m sure you have more important work to be doing.” You said softly to the blonde who was currently under the gown’s massive skirt, embroidering tiny little roses along the hem. With a happy sigh, she stood up, looking in the mirror at you.

“ I’m happy to help! Are you nervous for tomorrow? They’re calling it the wedding of the century, Fabricia said it’s going to be played throughout Panem.” Tigris said, taking a few pins out of the dress and slowly circling you to make sure everything fit like it should.

“I’m nervous but I’m excited for it to be over. I just wish my mother and father were here.” You said honestly, looking down at the ground. Tigris put her arm around your shoulder and the gentle gesture made you cry harder than you thought you would, shoulders shaking as Tigris placed a pale pink handkerchief into your hand.

“I’ve always wanted a sister, for so long it’s just been Coryo and Grandma’am but now that you’re here I finally get my wish. There was a time when I looked at Coriolanus and all I saw was his father looking back, but from the moment he brought you home, I’ve only ever seen a man in love.  You deserve to be happy.”

Tigris Snow must be the best person the Capitol ever produced.

After copious amounts of tea and a few more tears, you bid Tigris goodbye, heading back to your own home, head and heart still heavy.

You had no idea it would have gone like this, hell you thought you wouldn’t last a week in The Capitol but look at you now, the almost wife of a presidential candidate.

You made it.

But at what cost?

  “A deal is a deal, little thief. Your precious ma and pa are responding well to the antidote to my poison, I suspect they’ll be breathing fully on their own in a few weeks. Would you like me to wheel them to your reception?” Dr. Gaul said, sipping tea at your counter.

You ignored her, settling into a chair of your own, waiting for the car to pick you up to have dinner with Coriolanus. This gilded cage would be gone after tomorrow and to some extent so would Dr. Gaul’s influence too and that made you want to sprint down the aisle more than anything else.

“Will they be safe now that I’ve given you what you want?” 

Dr. Gaul clapped her hands and nodded, stepping down from her stool and heading for the door.

“ You should know by now that no one is truly safe in this world but once they are healthy enough, they can do as they wish, my games with you are coming to an end and I’ll surely miss these little chats.  You’re not what I expected, little thief, I told you to steal a boy’s heart and you stole all of Panem. What a marvel you’ve turned out to be.”

A marvel.

You felt like anything but.

 You were surprised when Coriolanus asked you to dinner, having thought he would want to spend the night before his wedding going over a new campaign speech in his solitude or doing whatever Capitol bachelors did, but he just wanted to sip wine and hold your hand under candlelight.

It was a quiet affair but it calmed your mind enough to realize that Coryo had brought you the one thing you had craved for quite some time.

Silence.

 “Let’s go for a walk, darling.”

The streets of The Capitol were empty this time of night and  you couldn’t help but smile when you realized where Coryo was leading you. The street where you first met looked no different at night but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder in it.

“This is very romantic but it might be a little late to change the wedding venue. Is getting married in the middle of the street a Capitol wedding tradition I’m unfamiliar with?” You asked playfully, looking up at the stars.

Just one more month.

If Coryo could win the election, there would be nothing Ravinstill could do, Gaul couldn’t change her mind and keep your parents as lab rats.

You would be safe.

    “And what are weddings like in District 6?”

You did not move.

This moment had been a long time coming, perhaps too long for someone with his intellect, but here you were. Your turn in his direction was excruciatingly short, head unbowed and eyes clear. You would not beg or weep for forgiveness.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus Snow got on his knees before you.

  “I know every secret you have kept from me, every lie you have said to my face yet if you asked to burn down The Capitol, I'd fetch a match. What you need to understand is that I will never not want you and only you, by my side.”

He knew.

You met his gaze and stepped forward, placing a hand on his cheek.

   “I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for stealing from the capitol or pretending to get hit by a car so that Dr. Gaul wouldn’t murder my parents. Most of all, I’m not sorry for meeting you, Coriolanus, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

   “Do you love me? No lies, just a question. Do you love me?”

  “It was easy to lie to you but it was even easier to love you. I have been moving for so long that I’m afraid of what happens if I stop. I love you but what happens now?”

Coriolanus stood up, put his forehead to yours and wrapped his arms around you tight.

   “ Don’t move then, all you have to do is stand still. Stand still beside me and I swear to you, no one will harm you again.” He whispered in your ear.

You didn’t have to wait a month.

In the arms of Coriolanus Snow, you were safe.

Morning came quickly and between Tigris and attendants, you looked less like yourself and more like a bride in your extravagant gown, curls on top of your head. From behind the curtain you could see the venue start to fill up with the Capitol’s finest.

    “You look so beautiful, oh I can’t believe Grandma’am isn’t here to see this!” Tigris said, fluffing out the back of your gown and you reached over and squeezed her hand. She had been downright giddy when you asked her to walk you down the aisle and you were relieved when she accepted as your only other choice was Dr. Gaul.

  “Ma Plinth has your something borrowed, I just have run back to The Corso and then we can get started. The first truly good day in such a long time.” Tigris said softly and pulled you in for a quick embrace before running off.

 An attendant brought you a glass of chilled posca and you sipped while you waited, the nerves starting to make you sweat just a little.

The sound of footsteps filled you with relief and you turned from the vanity with a smile.

       “Tigris? Are we ready to start?”

The question went unanswered as the person who entered your area was not Tigris but President Ravinstill.

      “Well, don't you look stunning, young lady. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were Capitol born and bred but we both know that’s not exactly true.” He said with a dark chuckle.

    “Mr. President, the wedding is about to start. I’m sure we can have someone show you to your seat.” You said in a chilled tone but he paid you no mind.

   “You were supposed to tame him, dear. You were supposed to curb his political ambition till I got a hold of him so I could mold him in my image. Instead, you had him embarrass me in front of the press with this adorable campaign of his that you both intended to see it through to the bitter end. That just won’t do.  Tonight, district whore,  you will kill Coriolanus Snow.” 

No.

No more.

 “No.”

 “I don’t think I heard you, young lady.”

You stood to your feet and stood directly in front of the president, calm and collected.

  “ I said no, Mr. President. The Capitol no longer gets to make a monster out of me after today so enjoy the wedding and we will see you on election night.” You said simply.

He could kill your parents.

He could destroy District 6.

You both knew that but only you knew that you had simply had enough and there were worse games to play.

   “Oh my dear, if only your answer was different.”

The sound of racing footsteps echoed as Coriolanus came racing into the room, concern and confusion on his face.

   “The guards said you wanted to talk to me, what’s wrong, what’s going on?” He asked, taking your hand but froze when he saw President Ravinstill.

  “Right on time, my boy!  I called you in here because I wanted you to see what happens when you attempt to humiliate me, to disgrace Panem. I want you to see that even on your happiest day, you cannot stop snow from falling.” President Ravinstill said.

You were sweating heavily now.

When did it get so hot?

  “Coryo? Coriolanus, something’s wrong.”

Coriolanus turned back to you, his features shifting to a picture of horror at the sight of blood gently trickling down your nose. He caught you before you could hit the floor, gasping for breath, your blood coating his fingers.

  “ Coryo, what’s happening?” You asked weakly, looking all around but Coriolanus gently placed your head on his lap.

 “You’re okay, you’re okay, just look at me, look at me darling.” He said softly, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

 This couldn’t be happening.

 You risked it all, for what?

  “Do you love me?” Coriolanus asked, pressing flat bloody fingers against your pulse, the erratic beat beneath his fingers made him want to sob but he had to stay in control. It would all be over soon.

  “I do.” You choked out, tears starting to fall down your cheeks. Everything around you was starting to blur but Coriolanus gently rocked you in his arms. 

  “Then eyes on me, Mrs. Snow.” Coriolanus said with watery eyes. Through the sleeve of your wedding dress something you could feel something prick your arm but you were too far gone to truly realize what was happening.

  “Tell my ma, tell her I’m sorry.” You whispered, eyes slowly closing despite Coriolanus’s cries.

  “Don’t worry dear boy, I’ll make the announcement that you’ll be dropping out of the race. Someone should not have drank the posca.” President Ravinstill said, a throaty chuckle that ended with a hacking cough, one that the guard closest to him mimicked.

Enjoy the show. 

Outside the bridal area, he could hear others coughing too but with his wife still on his lap, he turned his attention to the president. A wave of calm engulfed him and despite himself, Coriolanus Snow began to laugh.

“And you should not have drank the champagne, Mr. President.”

Coriolanus enjoyed watching Ravinstill crumble to the floor besides his bodyguards, flecks of foam and spittle falling from the former president's now violet lips. 

Wedding guests screamed and the sounds of falling bodies echoed throughout the venue but Coriolanus ignored them in favor of breathing for you.

After all, these things happen in war.

That’s chapter 8! Thank you so much for reading, I’m so sorry for the delay! I just wanted to try this ending instead, I really, really hope you don’t hate it. As always, if you want to see the finale, please comment and reblog! Love you all!!!

[mochegato]

Mistakes Were Made

Jon pursed his lips as he studied the list in front of him, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he stared at it.  There was a pattern there.  He knew there was.  Something linking the names on the list.  Something he hadn’t managed to figure out even after endless hours staring at the company names, running down investors, calling ex-employees, scouring the internet for scandals.  It was getting damned frustrating.

Jay hadn’t had any more luck with the list than he’d had, and Jay had been working on the story a lot longer than Jon had been.  Weeks.  Weeks of focused investigation had yielded a lot of results, but nothing conclusive.  Nothing they could splash across the front page of the Daily Planet.  Nothing that would lead to the convictions that he knew were forthcoming.  If they could figure out the pattern.

It was there… somewhere.

He was shocked out of his focus by his phone and answered before the first ring had completed.  “This is Jon,” he intoned mindlessly, still staring at the list.

The responding snort finally brought his attention away from the list for the first time in so long, his vision was starting to cross.  “I guess I called the right number then,” she chuckled.

“Hey, Starlight,” he sighed and instantly returned his attention to the list.  It wasn’t investors.  It wasn’t ex-employees.  It had to be…

“Hey, Mon rêve,” she cooed.  “Where are you?  It’s getting pretty late.”

“Hm?  Is it?  I hadn’t noticed,” he answered absently.  “I’m still here with Jay.”

“Wait.  Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side to stare at the list.  Maybe that would give him a new perspective.  He was pretty sure if he stared any harder than he had before, his laser vision would activate.  “Jay has been following a lead for a few days and asked this morning if I could help.  We are doing some research to hopefully get a direction.”

“So…” she started, her tone was careful, measured.  If Jon had been a bit more aware of anything outside of the list, it would have set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge, especially contrasted with the adoring tone microseconds before.  “…you're staying there.  You're not going to join me?  You're going to stay there... with Jay.”

“Yeah, sorry, can't join you tonight.”  He paused to look over their desks full of documents, binders of reports, and endless Post It notes marking random thoughts in their glaring color.  It should be overwhelming, but it just excited him.  This story wasn’t just important, it could make a major difference, to Metropolis and him.  “I think this could really be something,” he gushed almost breathlessly.  She was silent for a few beats too long; long enough Jon noticed she hadn't responded yet.  “Mari?”

It was another few beats of loaded silence before she responded.  “Yeah, I thought it could really be something too.”

He frowned at the phone.  “Hey, you okay?  You sound a bit off.”

The silence was more concerning than any response she could give.  If it took that long to respond, there clearly was something wrong.  He almost waved Jay off when he jutted his laptop in front of his eyes, but the insistent look in Jay’s eyes made him reconsider.  “I just thought we could spend time together today celebrating,” she finally answered.

“Oh? Celebrating what?” he asked distractedly, flicking his fingers through the document Jay had just found; property listings.

She let out a mirthless huff of a laugh.  “Nothing.  It doesn't matter.”

“No, I'm sure it does,” he insisted instantly, though it was clear in his voice his attention was still elsewhere.  “I'll see you tonight and we can talk.”

“I wanted to dig up property records for the rest of the organizations,” Jay piped up.  “If we can get a listing tonight, we can look into their ownership history tomorrow.  Maybe make some inquiries.”

“Oh!  That’s a good plan.  Yeah.”  He looked at the list again and let out a breath at the length.  “This is going to take a while.”  It wasn’t until he had reached for his laptop that he remembered he was still holding a phone and supposed to be talking to Marinette.  “Sorry!  Tomorrow,” he promised quickly.  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Right,” Marinette scoffed.

He paused and turned away from Jay to give himself a bit of privacy.  “Are you upset I'm hanging out with Jay?  Mari, you know we just work together.  There's nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” she repeated.

This time, Jon took note of her tone.  It wasn’t one he associated with her.  He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever heard her speak that way before.  It was hollow, defeated, and so very wrong.  “Don’t be like that, Starlight.  You're being ridiculous.”  He shook his head, exasperated at her reaction.  They needed to talk about this, clearly, but he didn’t have time tonight.  “Look, I have to go.  We'll talk about this later, okay?  Love you.”

She hung up without responding, leaving him staring at the phone in confusion.  He let out a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.  She was upset.  Clearly.  But this was time sensitive.  They needed to get this research done tonight so they could jump on City Hall tomorrow.

Would he have loved to spend the night with her?  Of course he would!  He would spend every night… and day with her if he could.  But this was the life of a reporter, not to mention a hero.  He needed to be able to spend a night in the office with a coworker from time to time.  When he was working on a story, it might even be days.  Hell, his mom had slept on her office couch every night for a week before.

And, he huffed mentally, Marinette didn’t really have standing to complain.  She regularly got caught up in design dazes and would end up in her studio for the entire night.  More than once, he had to track her down to her studio and drag her home.  She had no right to be mad at him for doing the same thing she did constantly.

It was particularly strange because he had worked late into the night on stories, or been away unexpectedly for a mission, and she had been extremely understanding.  But this time…

“Hey, I think I found something!” Jay called, drawing Jon out of his spiral.

Jon was at Jay’s side looking over his shoulder in a microsecond.  This was it!  This was the link they’d been looking for all day.  He could feel it.

They got lost in digging up all the information they could, so focused, he’d completely lost track of time.  Gun to his head, not that it would do anything, but it’s the sentiment that counts, he couldn’t tell you how much time had passed since he’d spoken to Marinette when his phone rang again, but it was at least long enough for them to have gathered the bulk of the property listings for the names on the list.  And at some point Jay had drifted off to the break room to get them yet another cup of godawful black coffee.

They hadn’t done a deep dive yet, looking for the hidden assets, but there was a lot of night left… maybe.  He really needed to check a clock.

He checked the ID and furrowed his brow in confusion for just a second before answering.  If he knew her, and he did, she would just keep calling until he answered.  “Hey, Kara.  I’m a bit busy right now.  Can I call you back another time?”

“Yeah, I know how busy you apparently are, dumbass,” she growled into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He jerked back in surprise.  “What?  What did I do now?”  It took a few moments for his mind to register the situation and recall his previous conversation.  “Oh, did Mari call you?”  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Is she that upset I'm working with Jay.  This is insane.  She's best friends with Adrien and regularly hangs out with Luka and Vic and I can't even work with Jay?  I can't believe...”

“What day is it?” she cut in, saccharine sweet in a way she had never actually embodied.

The tone caught him off guard.  It was, quite frankly, a bit creepy coming from her.  “What?”

“What day is it?” she repeated, the sweetness bleeding from her tone.

It was a trap, he knew it was, he just for the life of him couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to trap him into or why she was laying it.  Working late one day didn’t warrant the effort at entrapment.  Nothing made sense.  “Thursday,” he answered slowly.  It felt like it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the correct answer.

“The date, you dimwitted pudding socket!” she hissed.  All pretenses of sweetness were completely gone.  Her hostility was fully out.

“Dimwitted… what the heck, Kara?”

“What. Is. The. Date,” she repeated, carefully enunciating each word, punctuating the final syllable like they were weapons.

He could hear her teeth gritting through the phone without even having to use his super hearing.  But more than that, he could hear the disappointment, which again, didn’t make sense.  It was one night.  “It's May...” he trailed off as the realization hit and Marinette and Kara’s reactions finally made sense.  “Oh...”

“Yeah,” she concurred bitterly, “oh.”

“Oh, fuck.”  If anything, Marinette’s reaction was subdued.  She should have yelled.  She should have screamed.  She should have raked him over the coals for forgetting their anniversary.

“Yep,” she agreed popping the p.

“Oh no,” he lamented, running his hand through his hair and tugging painfully on it.  “No, no, no.  No, fuck.  Is she still at the restaurant?”  The question was essentially perfunctory, he was moving before she responded.  But her response stopped him in his tracks, yet again driving home the level of fuckupary.

“Is she still at the restaurant you had a reservation for hours ago and you left her sitting alone waiting for you?” she scoffed.

“No!  What time is it?”  He whipped his head around looking for the damned clock that he should have checked when he talked with Marinette.  His heart dropped at the sight.  It was in fact hours after he was supposed to meet her.  Hours!  And he hadn’t talked to her.  Hours for her to stew and spiral and start thinking the worst of the situation.  “Fuck!  Where is she?”

There was a pause before she spoke, and Jon could picture her narrowing her eyes, leaning back, and cocking her hip as she prepared to answer.  “She is somewhere she doesn't want you to find her.”

“Fuck!  No, Kara,” he pleaded.  “No, I need to talk to her.  I need to fix this.  I need to...”

“That's a lot of I's for someone who is just fucked up so royally,” she chided harshly.  “It isn't about what you need right now, is it?”

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair again.  He needed to do something he couldn’t… he couldn’t lose Marinette.  The very idea of not being able to go home to her gutted him.  But the idea of Marinette thinking that he blew her off, that he didn’t love her with his entire soul, felt like a kryptonite knife to the heart.  “Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he agonized.  “How do I fix this if she won't talk to me, Kara.  What do I do?”

“I would suggest massive groveling,” she offered, her false sweetness back though not quite to the level it had been before.  “Flowers and fabric aren’t going to fix this.”

“I need to apologize to her face,” he announced as much to himself as her.  He stood up straight as determination flowed through him.  He was going to find her and talk to her, beg her, plead for her to understand.  He was an idiot, but he was a devoted, utterly lovesick idiot.  “Where is she?”

“No.”  Flat but solid.  She used no emotion, just raw steel.

“Kara, where is my girlfriend?” he growled.

“Gone.  And you need to consider what you're going to do to make sure it isn't permanent,” she snarled before hanging up.

“Kara?  Kara!” Frustration inundated his voice.  “How do I make sure it isn’t permanent if I can’t talk to her?” he screamed into the void.  “I know you can hear me!”

He immediately called Marinette, which in retrospect, he acknowledged, he should have done as soon as he realized he’d missed the date.  He clenched his hand into a bouncing fist as he waited for her to answer, pacing a tight circle, and he almost started apologizing when he heard her voice.  It took a few seconds to realize it was the start of her voicemail, not her.

But he wasn’t going to be deterred so easily.  She was angry, frustrated.  She didn’t like to answer the phone when she was frustrated with someone.  He knew that.  He should have anticipated it.  Instead, he sent off a few anxious texts, not able to wait more than a few seconds before sending the next text.  When she didn’t answer those after a full minute, he couldn’t force himself to wait any longer and tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail.  Meaning she was either instantly rejecting the call or she’d blocked him.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, fighting the urge to throw his phone.  If he allowed his anger to overtake him now, he would lose his only means of communication if she did decide to respond… and he’d probably tear a hole through the wall and possibly the next… and all the walls in the next building.

Jay came careening around the corner, the coffee mugs in his hands sloshing over the rims and spilling onto his shirt unnoticed.  “What?  Did something happen?  What’s wrong?” he questioned frantically.

“I… fuck!” Jon yelled again.  He kicked an exposed steel support beam that at this point luckily was merely decorative, because it crumpled instantly.

“Woah, hey, you have to take a breath,” Jay urged.  He set the coffee down and approached Jon cautiously.  “You’re going to destroy the building.  What is going on?”

“I…” he moved toward something else to hit but Jay stepped in front of it with a concerned but firm look and Jon deflated entirely.  He collapsed onto the floor, head in hands.  “It’s our anniversary.  I… I missed our anniversary.  We had a night planned.  I… she waited at the restaurant for me.”

Jay crouched down next to him in an instant.  “What?” he gasped.  “It’s your… What are you doing here!”

“I forgot,” he moaned.  “I got caught up and…”

“Jon…” he cut in his voice firm again.  “Why are you still here?  Go fix it!”

Jon shook his head despondently.  “She doesn’t want to see me.  She has made that abundantly clear.”

Jay scoffed.  “She’s mad.  Justifiably.  You forgot a really important date for your relationship to hang out with an ex.  Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.  But, what?  You’re just going to slink away, tail between your legs?  You’re not going to fight?  Beg?  Fly up to the moon and bring it back for her?”

Jon glanced up at him, his eyes welling as he did.  “If she wanted.  I’d give her anything she wanted.  And what she wants is space.”

“Is it?” Jay demanded.  He wasn’t giving any space for self-pitying.  It was time to act, not wallow.  “I don’t know man, if you aren’t even willing to fight for her, I don’t know if you deserve her.  She’s hurting right now.  You’re going to let her do it alone?”

“No!  Never,” Jon exclaimed, affronted by the very suggestion that he would ever, ever leave Marinette to suffer alone.

“So…” Jay prompted.  He grinned as a determined look came over Jon.  “I’ll continue on my own.  We can pick this up on Monday… or Tuesday.  The evidence isn’t going anywhere.  You go get your woman and fix your future.”

Finding her wasn’t as difficult as Kara made it out to be.  After he excluded their place and Kara’s place, she was in the next place he looked, which would have been the first, but Kara’s comment had thrown his instincts off.  So, either she wasn’t as adamant that she didn’t want him to find her as Kara had indicated or Marinette just was too upset to think logically and was thinking emotionally instead.

Jon took a deep breath to fortify himself before knocking on the door.  The night was going to be rough, and it was completely his fault.  He had done this to them.  He’d stood her up and forgotten their anniversary.  She’d even prompted him to remember they were supposed to be celebrating and he blew her off.  God, she must think he didn’t care about her at all.

He was so lost in his self-deprecation; he missed the sounds of someone approaching the door until it had already been opened, an imposing, hostile figure glowering at him.  “What do you want?” Adrien snarled.

Jon flinched at the venomous tone from the normally friendly, gregarious man.  He steeled himself and met Adrien’s eyes.  “To talk to my girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s worthy of your attention now, is she?” he sneered.

“Of course she is.  She always is.”  Jon took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  He wanted to argue with Adrien, to point out all the times she’d been the center of his attention, all the times he’d put her needs and interests above his own because he knew she did the same.  But it wasn’t the right time for that argument.  He needed to speak with Marinette, to make her feel his devotion, not waste time arguing with her best friend.  And if it meant letting Adrien take out his protective wrath on him uncontested, that’s what he would do.  “Look, I screwed up, I know that.  Please let me fix this,” he begged.

Adrien stared him down for a few long moments, not breaking his intense eye contact, clearly enjoying the way it made Jon squirm.  But finally he grumbled something that might have been a word, or just a sound to make known his extreme discontent, and let him in grudgingly.  Just as Jon was about to pass him, he held his arm up to stop him.  “You get this one chance.  You screw this up, I won’t need kryptonite to end you, but you’ll wish I had.”

Jon met his eyes again, letting an understanding pass between them and nodded.  “Noted.”

He thought he couldn’t feel any guiltier or worse about himself, but the moment he saw Marinette, he knew he was wrong.  He could feel so, so much worse.  She was slumped on the couch, empty tumbler in her hand, staring absently at nothing.  Her eyes were red and puffy and even from his distance and without using enhanced vision, he could see the still wet tear tracks, her ruined mascara highlighting their trail.

Desperate not to make her feel worse, he approached her cautiously, slowly.  While in the past, he’d enjoyed ambushing her by appearing in front of her in the blink of her eye, surprising her and possibly shocking her into a violent reaction was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment.  He could tell the moment she noticed him.  She didn’t acknowledge him outright, but he could hear the way her breathing changed and the way her body tensed just before she sat up and refilled her glass.

The liquid slopped out of the bottle, splashing as much on the coffee table as in the glass and Jon rushed forward to steady her hand.  It was instinct.  He saw her in need of assistance, and he acted.  It wasn’t until she flinched away that he realized his assistance may not be welcome in that moment and perhaps he was the very reason she was in need of assistance.  His heart squeezed painfully at the realization, tearing the breath from his lungs.

“Hey Starlight, what are you doing?” he asked gently.  He sat next to her, close but still giving her space, and angled his body so he could face her.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not quite willing to grace him with her gaze, and took a long drink before answering.  “You forgot about our anniversary,” she answered her voice forlorn.

 “I know,” he admitted guiltily.  “I…”

“I wanted to too,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him at all.

He could have sworn he didn’t have any more air left in his lungs, but her tone and the agonized look in her eyes, made his chest feel like it was in a vise forcing all air out in a rush.  “No, baby…” he begged miserably.

“I’m not your baby anymore,” she shrugged, still not meeting his gaze, her eyes returning to the blank spot in the distance.

“Baby, Starlight,” he pleaded.  He moved a step closer to give him better access to wipe away her tears and caress her face.  The need to touch her was visceral.  He needed to feel her and make her feel his love, look at him.  But at the last second Kara’s words rung in his head.  It wasn’t about him.  He redirected before making contact and instead laid his hands on either side of her knees.  “You will always be mine.”

Sloppily, she shook her head.  “I’m not.  You don’t love me anymore.”

It was said with such certainty that he could feel it in his soul.  “Starlight, I love you more than anything…”

“I’m not important to you.  You can’t love someone you don’t think is important.  You don’t put in effort.  You don’t care.”  Any emotion that had crept into her eyes when he first approached her, drained completely, giving the impression of a haunted house, empty and seemingly abandoned, but with hidden secrets fiercely protected.  “You forgot,” she finished desolately.

It was over.  He could see it.  She was done for the night.  Nothing he or anyone else said would make it through to her.  Nothing but time and rest and a whole lot of sobering would make a difference.  He would just have to hope she got that overnight and then pray to whatever deities that might listen, that in the morning, she would let him apologize.  “Marinette,” he started earnestly, tenderly, “you are by far the most important person in the world to me.  Let’s get you to bed and we can talk in the morning, okay?”

She shrugged, or at least gave a rough, loose approximation of a shrug.  “I don’t believe you,” she mumbled, almost incoherently.  “I want to.”  She glanced over at him with watery eyes.  “I want to, so much.  But I don’t.”

What was left of his heart shattered into neutron sized pieces.  He couldn’t believe how badly he had messed it up.  He didn’t know what he was going to have to do to fix it, but whatever it took he would do.  Whatever she needed… tomorrow.  He reached up and gently cupped her face, his thumbs softly wiped away her tears.  His heart mended slightly when she nuzzled into his hands.  “I will do everything I can to change that, I swear that to you.  But let’s get you to bed and sleep.”

“Okay,” she slurred, but made no sign of moving other than to lift her now empty glass to her lips then frown at it, after a few beats.

He sighed and looked over to Adrien.  He would fly her home but at this point, he was worried there was no way she’d make it without feeling absolutely terrible and likely throwing up… a few times.  “Can she stay here tonight?”

Adrien scoffed and headed over to her.  “You don’t even have to ask.”

Before Adrien could make it over to them, Jon had already picked her up as gently as possible so as not to shake her and cause her head to spin or nausea.  “But I do have to ask if I can stay,” he pointed out tentatively.  “I can take the couch,” he added quickly.  “I just… really want to be here when she wakes up.”

Adrien sighed and softly stroked Marinette’s hair as Jon carried her past.  His eyes never left Marinette as he responded, “You don’t have to either.  You two come as a package.”

Jon breathed out a sigh of relief.  “God, I really hope we still are.”  He gave Adrien a nod at his shoulder pat and carried her back to the guest room they’d stayed in together many times before.  It felt strange knowing this time he wouldn’t be welcome.  They’d always stayed together, squeezed together pleasantly in the entirely too small bed.

Her even and rhythmic breathing seemed to reverberate through the unwelcome room as he laid her down and tucked the comforter around her as tenderly as he could so as not to wake her up.  He hadn’t made it a full step away before he heard her voice.  “Stay?”  She turned her mournful eyes to him.  “Give me one last night?”

She had turned away from him as soon as he started removing his shoes, getting ready for him to slip into his familiar position, which he did with ease.  He stroked her hair as she slept, more for himself than her, relishing what might be the last time he was allowed to be so close.  “Starlight, I want to give you my every night.”

It took quite a while for him to finally fall asleep, constantly afraid she would disappear on him if he did.  When he finally fell asleep, it was fitful.  He constantly jolted awake to make sure she was still there, and chastised himself each time because with the way he was wrapped around her, their legs intertwined and his hand splayed against her abdomen holding her tight against him, every time he jolted, she whined and shifted.

It was no surprise then that when she awoke quite a few hours later, he was already awake to catch her getting restless until her eyes started to flutter and finally open to take in the room, quickly scrunching in confusion.  “Morning, Starlight,” he murmured, his voice scratchy from disuse and the little bit of sleep he’d managed.

“Morning, Mon rêve,” she responded instinctively, but he could see the moment memories of the night before flooded back.  Her soft expression became wary and she edged away from him.  “What are you doing here?”

He stared intently into her eyes and took a bit of pride in the way she didn’t shy away from him reaching out to wind his hand into her hair and brush her cheek with his thumb.  She wasn’t angry or hurt enough to refuse to let him feel her, that was something, definitely better than he thought he would be.  “There’s nowhere else I wanted to be.”

“Jon…” she started, her voice tired and her eyes gleaming with hurt.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he cut in.  He’d wanted to ease into it.  He’d wanted to feel out how she was feeling then go from there.  He’d wanted to be tactful.  But as soon as he saw the pain in her eyes, he couldn’t hold back.  “I’m so, so very sorry that I forgot, but more than that, I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re anything less than the center of my entire universe.”

She looked away as she sat up, tearing herself away from the comforting feel of his hand.  “I understand being a reporter you’re going to have to work late.  Probably a lot.  But… It was our anniversary,” she lamented, another set of tears trailing down her cheeks.

Jon jumped out of bed to kneel in front of her again.  He ducked his head to try to catch her gaze, but she deftly avoided it.  It hurt, but he needed to get through to her, so he took her hands in his, squeezing them gently.  “I know, Starlight.  I know.”

She finally lifted her eyes, but it was worse.  The pain in them had increased into something desperate.  “It was our anniversary, and you were too busy for me.  For us.  You didn’t even remember.”

He shook his head vehemently.  “I forgot the date, yes.  But I didn’t forget the anniversary.  I swear I didn’t.  I’ve had your present wrapped at home for weeks.”

She shook her head as well, but while his had shaken like he could make her misperception evaporate, hers shook like her heart had lost the strength to do anything else.  “You’ve been working so much lately… for weeks.  And it’s been building up for months.  Months of not making it to our plans and working late.  It’s like you’re looking for a reason to stay away,” she murmured in a voice so fragile it seemed like a simple word could break her.

“I want to marry you,” he blurted out.

“What!” she exclaimed, shock evident on her face, but quickly faded to exasperation.  “Jon, it isn’t that bad.  You don’t need to propose to get over the fight.”

“What? No!  That’s not…”  He took a deep breath and let it out with a loud groan.  He ran his hand down his face roughly, letting it rest over his mouth for a few moments as he let the words settle into the right order in his head.  “I’ve been working harder the past few months to earn money and force my break.  I want to be able to support us when we get married, when we decide to start a family.  I wanted to buy you a nice ring.  It won’t be as amazing as you deserve, because I don’t think I’ll ever make enough to buy you what you deserve, but still a really nice ring.”

“Jon,” she murmured and with that one word, his heart started rebuilding.  Her tone had completely shifted from broken to compassionate, her eyes shifted from pain to adoration.  “My friend proposed to his girlfriend with a tiny shell on a string, because that’s what he could afford, and it was possibly the single most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen.”  She cupped his face and stroked his cheek gently, her thumb making a quiet rasping noise against his stubble.  “I don’t need a fancy ring.  I just need you.”

Jon grinned as he laid his hands over hers.  “Does that mean I should take the ring back?  I can still find a shell somewhere and keep the money,” he teased.

“Don’t you dare,” she gasped and smacked him in the chest.

He chuckled at the swipe before pulling her into a long, tight hug, one he wasn’t sure he was going to get again just a few minutes ago, making it all the sweeter.  “Are we okay?” he asked softly, still holding her tight, but too afraid to make eye contact just yet.  A fear Marinette clearly did not share as she pulled back to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so.  I think we just need to make sure we communicate better.  You shouldn’t have made such a big change in priorities without talking to me and I should have let you know how it made me feel.”  She ran her fingers through his hair and along his face, her eyes trailing behind her fingers.  “I love you.  I want to spend my life with you.  I shouldn’t have just let things fester.”

“I shouldn’t have pulled away,” he agreed.  “I wanted to surprise you, but not the way I clearly did.  I’ll do better.”

“So will I,” she promised.

“Our first big fight.”  He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially.  “Does that mean our first make up sex?”

Marinette groaned and pushed him away, watching as he fell to the floor dramatically.  She watched him for a few seconds before finally answering.  “Not here, no.”  She chuckled as he shot up in front of her before she could comprehend he’d even moved, hope blazing in his eyes.  “Take me home, Flyboy,” she cooed.

His grin turned excited as he picked her up in a bridal carry.  “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed and had them home before she’d finished laughing

[miyu-d]

Hi! New follower here!

Can you do something about being Ace's childhood friend and ended dating or confessing their feelings as teens or adult?

Hi! Thank you for following me. This is my first time writing for a request. I am so happy that you requested a fic from me. I apologize if this isn't exactly what you imagined. Hope you will enjoy it.💕

Love Blossoms

( Ace x Reader )

Warnings: Editing up ASL brothers' back story

(1.5k words)

Love is something magical. You didn't know when you fell for this man. As long as you remember, he is the only man in your heart.

You first met him when you were wandering around in the forest where Ace's and his brothers' treehouse was. You were in the village nearby, and you loved to sneak into the forest when you were a kid. One day, you saw three kids taking down a huge tiger. You got scared at first, but you decided to approach them for the better or worse.

Sabo and Luffy quickly became your friends, but you still remember the cold shoulder Ace gave you on that first day. He didn't want anyone else besides his brothers. You were just an intruder to him.

As time goes by, you make it your daily routine to sneak out of your home and go play with them. You weren't as athletic as them, so Ace always said rude things to you. Luffy was in his own world, and Sabo was the only one who helped you.

But when something dangerous happened, all three brothers protected you as your own personal bodyguards. Even though Ace had been rude to you, he never let anything happen to you. Even though he didn't admit it, he cared about you secretly.

With time, you became a part of them. That's when an uneasy feeling started to grow on you. Even though many people give you compliments or good comments on things, none of those touched your heart as Ace's awkward and simple "...Thanks, I guess."

Little by little, Ace started to become a polite boy with Makino's teaching. That only made things harder for you. When he said polite things and treated you with manners, your heart started to beat like crazy. You had to hide those feelings and act normal in front of him, which was so hard to do.

When Ace turned 17, he left the island to become a pirate. You vividly remember the way he happily waved his hand at you and everyone when he left in his boat. You were happy for him. He wanted to become a pirate since he was little, so you were really happy for him. But... the feeling that he was no longer with you... hurt so much that words had no power to describe it. It was... so lonely...

But after some days passed, you decided to get back on your feet. He followed his dreams. So you also wanted to follow yours. You knew that you would meet him someday. So, until then, you wanted to work on yourself.

But he was always in your heart. There was no space for anyone else.

Every day you read newspapers, hoping to catch something about Ace. You were so proud and happy to see how he became a well-famous pirate.

After some years passed, you had to go to another island for your work stuff. When you were passing by a restaurant, you heard a commotion.

"Is he dead?"

"Yeah, I heard he was eating when that happened."

"Oh god..."

People were talking about something, and you were curious. So you peaked inside the restaurant, and your eyes widen when you see the man with the tattoo on his back who is now sleeping on his plate.

"A-Ace," you whispered to yourself in surprise. You quickly ran to him.

"Ace... Ace wake up."

You grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

Suddenly, he sat up straight. Everyone got silent.

"Oh, sorry... I slept," Ace said without care in the world.

Everyone in the restaurant was shocked.

"Geez... You haven't changed a bit." You couldn't help but chuckle.

Ace didn't recognize you first. He suddenly grabbed your dress and wiped out the food on his face. A scream came out of your mouth. You blushed head to toe, and you grabbed your dress back from him.

"hmm?..." Ace looked straight at your face, thinking hard. "Do I... know you?"

You collect yourself and let out a sigh.

"Try to guess," you said with a smirk, and you sat on a stool beside him.

He looked at your face intensely, making many weird, confused, and thinking faces. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"Y/n...?" He said it with a surprised tone. He is surprised and confused.

You got butterflies in your stomach when you heard him call you by your name. A bright smile appeared on your face, and you were so happy that he didn't forget about you. You nod repeatedly.

"It has been a long time... Isn't it?" you asked with a smile.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled.

"Run as fast as you can," Ace whispered to you, and he ran out of the restaurant, pulling you along with him. After getting out of the door, Ace shouted, "Thank you for the food" and chuckled. The owner followed to catch you two cursing loudly for not paying. But you and Ace managed to ditch him. Ace slowed down the pace and stopped running. Then he turned around and looked at you. You were panting hard. Trying to catch your breath.

Ace chuckled and teased you, "Still, can't run. Huh?"

You got annoyed, but you didn't have the energy to talk back. You panted, hanging on Ace's hand.

He suddenly pulled you toward him and hugged you.

"Oh my god, y/n... I missed you so much."

You hugged him back. Feeling the warmth from him.

"You have no idea how much I missed you, Ace."

The hug tightened, and slowly both of you broke the hug.

After that, Ace took you to see so many places in the town. And went to more restaurants. Talked a lot. About the past, about Luffy and Whitebeard. He even showed you his devil fruit powers.

In the evening twilight, both of you came to the beach. You knew this was your only chance to tell him about your feelings. You collected all your courage.

"Ace..."

He was looking at the sea. He turned around to see your face when you called him.

"Hmm?"

For a few seconds, your eyes locked with his. Your heart was pounding so fast.

"What is it, y/n?" He was curious.

You looked away from his eyes. Hiding that you are flustered.

"Um... I- I have something... to tell you," you muttered.

"Hm? What is that?" He walked closer to you. That made your heart pound faster.

"I- I..."

You were so scared. You didn't know what would happen after confessing your love to him. Will he accept it? Will he get disgusted? Will he get angry? Will everything between you two get awkward? Will you... lose him?

Ace didn't rush you. He waited patiently. And yeah. Ace wasn't dumb. He got the idea of what this would turn out to be. He was also confused and lost in his own thoughts.

"H- have you ever seen me... as a... woman?" You slowly asked. But you still didn't have the courage to look at his face.

There was an awkward silence between you two.

"Y/N, do... Do you have... feelings for me?"

Your whole body heated up. You feel the heat in your ears.

"Um..."

The pressure made your eyes tear up a little.

You nodded slowly. "...yes, I... do." Your breaths were heavy.

"I... um... for a long time... I loved you, Ace. As long as I can remember, I... loved you." You took a breath.

"Everything. Everything about you. Not only your good things, trust me... I love every flow in you too... When I am with you... God... how do I explain this...? When I am with you... I feel... so safe, so happy, so excited... When I am with you... I just want to keep talking to you... And I just want to spend time with you... I am so in love with everything you do. Ace... I- I can't imagine my life without you. Everyday. Every single day, I think about you. You have no idea how much I care about you and how much I... love you." Your voice got weak when you said the last part. Tears fell from your cheeks while you confessed everything to him.

Ace listened to every single word you said in silence.

"Y/n..." he finally woke his voice. But his voice was so painful.

"I... don't... deserve this... You can find som-"

You hugged him tightly without letting him finish. Ace was surprised and stopped talking.

"Don't ever say that... You deserve so many things. You deserve soooo many things, Ace."

Ace calmed down after hearing your words. He slowly hugged you back. His eyes got teary too. It's like at any moment he is going to cry like a baby.

He sniffed and said, "I love you too, y/n... I love you so much."

Both you and Ace giggled through happy tears while hugging each other.

Mastelist

[candiid-caniine]

Hey! Long time no see, i know i said id send you a fantasy i thought you'd like but now ive forgotten almost all of it, oop!

Life happened, and uh, i saw that you mentioned your libido being a bit low, which definitely is my case too (im recovering from depression, now that im okay id love to get my FULL libido back, or at least a good percentage of it) do you have any tips on that?

Also any recs of blogs writing in the same vibe as you? (same-ish kinks would be nice but im specifically looking for queer inclusive stuff!) it makes me 10x hornier than the regular video/photo porn!

Hope you're well, you pathetic little thing!

💫

hi friend!! ugh i feel you. sorry i haven't got any advice on regaining ur libido...we just let mine wax and wane as it will, though denial has been a big help in keeping it steady!

i've heard good things abt ginseng and some other herbs. obvs use at your own risk, mind that some herbal treatments can cross-interact with certain medications, remember that pre-packaged supplement pills are often unregulated and may contain toxins, and be aware that some herbal remedies work better on pw certain anatomy than others, and finally that many herbal remedies considered to increase libido are largely untested on trans folx!

finally, sorry it's taken so long to answer this ask...i'm autistic and have been cataloguing lol. i present to you a list of other blog recs under the cut, organized by general vibe! i've tried to primarily include blogs that do their own posts rather than those who primarily reblog :)

note that my headings may provide some context as to what to expect, but you read at your own risk and each blog will typically have its own trigger warnings addressed in the header/pinned. additionally, i've not tagged some of the ppl below because they prefer that "Men DNI" blogs not interact, and idk if "no cis men" qualifies ahah!

all blogs below are queer- and/or trans-inclusive, if not exclusive! there is no detrans/misgendering, at least I don't think - i don't tend to follow those blogs.

hard kinks (blood, knives, etc; includes primarily-cnc blogs):

@puppy-mommy , who also does general t4t kink content, but does state untagged hard kinks!

@visciousest is someone whose blog i scroll when i'm in a Certain Mood ahah,, i won't elaborate

@hell-hound-bites: just. fuck. would drool on his knife blade.

@snuff-fag: its username should give you fair warning as to how wild its content tends to get, so please browse responsibly.

@condor-bait is taking a break right now, and all my love is with him as he takes care of himself. he made me feel so valid and so fuckable as a young trans person learning to love myself in a new way, and i've always been too shy to tell him how much his content meant to me one-on-one (yes, despite its often-extreme themes!), and he deserves as much time as he needs to heal!

@unwillingfvckpuppy for mostly cnc and medical kinks! if you like his style, but not so much their harder content, he also has a more-tame main blog--i just mainly follow/scroll this one!

@vampvictim: top-tier cnc/intox stuff, plus some great knife/bloodplay :)

@cryptidtid is wonderful and holy shit i follow a lot of hard kink blogs lol. incredible

@cnc-pet: i have been following her for a long ass fucking time lol. they post a lot of really good cnc and stories, but you'll also find a lot of aftercare tips and advice on her blog! i really admire blogs who try to balance horny content with best practices

@dollobotomy

general kinky content:

@excessively-queer . just plain old good shit :) there's a good amt of edging and degradation.

@clouded-king was honestly one of my earlier introductions to the queer/t4t kink community on here and how fucking euphoric it can be :) he posts some hard kinks, but generally it's a balance of a lot of different kinks so read his pinned at your leisure!

@ / cottontailx : just good kinky nsft posts :)

@ / digitalpenetration: often specifically t4t which i love!!

@femmelovefemme can step on me :)

@bigothteddies: could not build this section w/o mentioning him :) they had a big influence on my fantasies for a long time!

@hazelj-xoxo: bigtime want her to cuck me. have followed her across multiple blog deletions lol

@transpidered is forever an icon!

@subspaceemo

@writefinch for great stories and text posts

edging and denial, specifically:

@6irlpet is 1 of my go-to hands-down-pants scroll sessions :)

@droolkink is my inspiration!

@flustersluts does exactly what the name implies lol. a good helping of other kink content too :)

@puppycvnt is a 10/10!

@barkwoofbarkwoofbark: we r denial friends imo!!

@strawbrrysub

@blyssful-abyss

@urhighnessbitch is a big fav <3

non-detrans genderplay:

@butchviolence does amazing butch supremacy stuff and i,,, fucking hell. even just seeing their username puts me in a Particular state of mind ahah. they also post hard kinks so be aware as you proceed!

@mtfdomme: i literally just reblogged from her today lol. tbh i want to be their little stupid pupthing. it's not all transfem supremacy undertones/overtones, but that's what i mainly follow her for, plus just general t4t goodness! also, their general personality? and the way she shuts down people who disrespect their boundaries? huge inspiration for me!

@cuntboydestroyer: take me to the animal shelter and neuter me. good lord.

@the-kind-of-dame is the main inspiration for my recent genderplay post lol

@terfbreaking-tgirl (be warned of dykebreaking if that's an issue for you)

@barbarian-lesbian is my other inspiration for the recent genderplay post

@superiorineveryway

weird asf (/complimentary; my favorite type of shit. robots, ND-focused posts, etc):

@specksizedgoddess has introduced me to things i didn't know, like...existed, and that's saying a lot as one of my special interests is kink! never knew how down bad i was to be a tiny buggirl, nor how much i wanted to be someone's stupid little robot... BIG tw tho: there is snuff and gore content here, so proceed with caution if you don't wanna see that!

@sapphling fucked me up real good with some bird!sub bondage posts awhile back lol

@nobelisha: found them through their ghost cnc post so that's why they're in this category ahah! they don't have a pinned so proceed w awareness :)

@devout-cleric: hierophilia/religion kink, and i'm something of an acolyte of hers :) if you've read this far down you may as well know i'm her Little Lamb anon lol

piss/omo:

@latenightomo

@pissheartmybeloved - their URL makes me crack up every time, plus good content!

@hold-it-a-little-longer - good scenarios/imagines!

@ohmyrashi - (i think) my original intro to omo!

monsterfucking/terato:

@septimus-moonlight was my first real introduction to trans-positive terato and i've never settled for half-fun cis-oriented terato ever since :) mind tags!

@eggedbellies as well!

@bredpun doesn't appear to be active lately but still good for a scroll!

@steamandcream

@of-mutts-and-men