#listen. my brain just needs to do some writing

[paradiseprincesss]

hii i absolutely love your double fantasy fic and i was wondering maybe you could make a pt 2 where the reader tries to come up with plans to escape, you can choose the ending!! if its not possible, i understand, thank you!!!

double fantasy (pt ii) - jackson rippner x assassin!reader

hello my love, yes absolutely i can write a part ii for you. i am so so so glad you enjoyed the first part! <3 love you always

please read part 1 first because none of this will make sense if you don't!

summary: after planning your escape from jackson, you put your plan into motion - but just like the first time around, things don't pan out the way you thought they would.

warnings: 18+ minors dni!! murder, death, kissing, fluff, mentions of crime/criminal behavior, mention of drugs, mentions of sex

life with jackson wasn't so bad...

actually, that was a lie. it was dreadful.

for the last three weeks, you were being held hostage in jacksons home with him. sure, it was okay in the sense that he would actually give you some freedom. like for example, he would always go grab your favourite food when you were hungry, or he would buy you pretty clothes - he pretty much bought you everything you asked for, and he would fuck you so good; you couldn't even deny that. all he asked in return was that you occasionally cooked him dinner after work and let him stuff his cock down your throat from time to time.

the downside to all this you ask? well, it was with him. that was the downside - jackson rippner himself. he was so loving towards you that it was almost suffocating, and you knew he was probably doing it because he knew how much you despised it.

the whole stockholm syndrome thing was taking a little longer to kick in than jackson originally anticipated - but just like you, he was willing to play the long game.

and that's what he did with you. you were waiting it out as well; seeing how long it would take him to slip up and give you a chance at escaping, and he was waiting to see how long it would take you to fall head over heels for your captor.

he rolled off of you, immediately coming to hold you in his tight grip after he had just fucked your brains out. okay - fine. the sex was good. actually, no - it was more than just good; it was mind-blowing. you let him hold you (not that you had a choice), and he kissed your forehead gently.

"you'll love it here, honey. i know you'll come around, but i'm okay with waiting. just look at what being patient got me the first time around." he says softly, making you scoff.

"stop lying to yourself." you tell him, and he coos at you. "oh, honey, no need to get so upset. it's okay - you can admit it. i mean, with the way you're always screaming my name when i fuck you-"

"that's enough." you sharply say, and he just laughs softly at you. "okay, okay. whatever you say, sweetheart."

the way he loves on you makes you furious - he acted as if the two of you were really a couple and that had your blood boiling. you were set on finding a way out of here.

as luck would have it, later on in the week, jackson needed to go on another mission of some sort. he mentioned that he was supposed to track down this girl, get on some redeye flight with her, and threaten her and her father or something. to be honest, you weren't really listening - that and you didn't really care.

"are you going to miss me when i'm gone?" he asks sweetly, and you pull yourself away from him. "ew," is all you manage to say, and he scoffs at you. "please, you'll come to love me." he growls at you, making you scrunch your nose to really get the point that you were disgusted across.

so you started planning in your head silently. you knew that he was going to be gone for roughly 72 hours, giving you a small window of time to escape.

he had the doors barracaded with multiple locks, which all required both a code into the keypad and a physical keys to unlock. the windows were also locked shut - but at least he didn't put bars or anything on them. oh right, there was also one more problem.

he had surveillance cameras set up all over the entire home.

so yeah - you had your work cut out for you. this plan had to be executed perfectly, meticulously and flawlessly. even if he was hours away or on a plane, he could easily have one of his men check up on you. better yet; if he found you escaping, he could have one of his men kill you.

but he wouldn't do that...right? because he loved you so?

"goodbye, honey. i'll see you when i get back. and trust me, when i do - you won't be walking straight for the next week after i'm done with you." he coos at you lovingly whilst telling you that he was going to fuck you so ruthlessly when he was back that you'd lose the ability to walk.

charming.

you grimace at him in annoyance, "i hope you die on that mission." you snarl with a sharp tone, and he looks at you with his eyes narrowed for a moment - like he was about to break the loving facade before collecting himself once more.

"don't make me regret keeping you alive, sweetheart."

and with that, he gave you a rough kiss and left for his mission - locking the dozens of the locks on the door behind him.

now that you were alone with your thoughts, you got to brainstorming. over the next few hours, you finalized your plan.

you knew that trying to bust down the locks or windows was pointless - he would see it on the cameras and get someone to stop you, and even if you did manage to get through the dozens of locks he had on the doors, somenone would be there waiting outside to stop you.

so you decided the best way to get those doors to freedom to open wasn't through yourself at all, but through someone else.

they say revenge is sweet - and you were craving it real bad. why not take vengeance on both people who screwed you over instead of just one?

it started with you throwing some dishes on the floor, breaking the porcelain plates with force. then, the glasses and cups, making an absolute mess of the place.

you knew he would notice - it didn't take him long to. within minutes of you breaking every dish in that damned kitchen, the sound of the locks being unlocked from the front door filled your ears.

"throwing tantrums now?" a voice asked, and you recognized it immediately.

no, not jackson's voice - this was the other person you were looking to take revenge on.

roman.

you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him; trapped in this sick psychopaths house.

"jackson asked me to check up on you since he said you were making quite the ruckus." he smoothly says, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

you didn't respond, opting for silence as he stared at you. you wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face. "i'm sorry for fucking you over, i really am. but that's life for ya, sweetheart."

at this point, he was standing maybe a foot away from you. his ego was clearly clouding his judgement - since the door behind him was wide open and unlocked - too distracted with taunting you to remember to do the one thing he should've done.

"i'm sorry, too." you say nonchalantly, and he cocks his head to the side. you take this opportunity to lunge at him with precision and speed - going right for the kill.

this egotistical idiot must've forgotten who you were; let's not forget you did work in the same...business as both him and jackson.

you had a shard of sharp glass hidden in your hands - doing it so stealthily that he didn't even see it coming. you watched roman as he collapsed to the floor after you went after his jugular, watching him bleed out.

"i'm sorry for that." you sneer.

quickly, you lean down to check for a pulse - gone.

smirking to yourself, you stand back up and toss the glass shard on the floor that was now starting to pool with blood.

"that's life for ya, sweetheart." you mock him, getting in the last word - as you always did.

now, jackson was watching all of this happen on his phone through the cameras he installed, and the sheer panic that was running through his body almost sent him into hysteria. he was sitting 35,000 feet in the air right now - he couldn't exactly get to you easily.

glancing up at the cameras in the home, you blow him a little kiss and wave.

a few months had gone by since your great escape; you were keeping a low profile now - considering that people were under the impression you were actually dead.

where were you? well, it's simple - you were chilling on a beach, living life in a tropical paradise.

ever since you escaped, you left the state and fled to mexico since you had a friend down there who ran a cartel. turns out being part of a drug cartel paid better than being an assassin ever did.

currently, you were in your favourite bikini, tanning on the beach in your beach chair with your friend beside you in a her beach chair, and a matching bikini.

this time you knew it was safe, this girl had been your ride or die since the two of you were in middle school as kids together. she'd saved your ass plenty of times, and you always returned the favour.

"i've missed you." she laughed as you sipped on your pina-colada, feeling the warm rays of sunshine kiss your skin.

"awe," you say, pouting at her, "i've missed you too."

the two of you talked and giggled about shared memories of your friendship. after a while, you were craving another cocktail. "i'm going to go back inside to make a margarita or something, want anything?" you ask her, and she smiles at you. "girl, obviously. bring me one, too."

nodding, you make your way from the beach to your villa styled mansion, letting the cool air conditioning breeze past you as you walk into the marbled kitchen. as you were grabbing the tequila and lime juice, you heard footsteps behind you.

"how strong do you want your marg?" you call out behind you, but it wasn't your friend who replied.

"you know, i prefer whiskey myself."

whipping your head around, your met with someone other than your best friend.

"jackson," you say calmly, looking at him with a soft smile, "you scared me, jesus."

he laughs softly, coming to wrap his arms around you from behind, placing a soft kiss behind your ear and a few down your neck. "m'sorry, honey. i love this bikini on you, by the way." he murmurs, trailing his hands up to gently squeeze your breasts through the tiny bikini top.

"i'm glad you're home. you know i get antsy when you're gone." you say softly, leaning into his touch.

"oh, trust me i know how you get when i'm gone. can't forget what happened last time i left you alone for more than three days." he teases.

turns out when you "waved" to him on camera after killing one of his associates, it wasn't a wave goodbye - no, in fact, it was just your way of saying "hi, come home please. i miss you."

turns out your stockhold syndrome was kicking into full gear as you plotted your escape - so in a sense, yeah, jackson was right. you did come around to loving him, i guess.

but after that, he knew keeping you captive was not the smartest choice - he didn't want to turn into roman 2.0 and end up dead on his kitchen floor. the two of you talked when he got back from his mission - which he coincidentally failed at, and you were still waiting at home for him, like he'd hoped.

you were screwed because everyone thought you were dead - and now, he was also screwed, because everyone wanted him dead. the two of you had a long conversation about it, and figured since you technically spent the last year and a half being a "couple," you might as well just give into it, right? why not.

so, that's when you had reached out to your longtime friend who was involved in the drug cartel business, since both you and jackson couldn't exactly go back to your old "jobs."

thankfully, your best friend was more than happy to have you join her and her cartel, along with jackson who went back to his roots - assassinating people; but now he was doing it for the cartel.

the two of you fled to mexico, and got yourselves a quiet, but huge, villa styled mansion on the coast of mexico so that you could both enjoy the quaint oceanic paradise and tropical weather.

and that's how life was now for the both of you - still living a life of crime, but this time around you got your happy ending. it was cute; jackson would bring you flowers every day, and true to his word, he always bought you whatever you wanted.

maybe life wasn't so bad with him - certainly not this one, anyways.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Amortentia

"Mr. Potter!" a reporter shouted as Draco and Harry stepped out of the restaurant. "Mr. Potter!" And not just any reporter, Draco noticed. Finn Leonard from the Prophet; handsome and tall, absolutely fucking viscous. "Mr. Potter, a word?"

He felt Harry tense beside him, his entire body thrumming with irritation. "If I say no, will you leave us alone?" he snapped.

Leonard grinned, sharp and shark-like, "Rumor has it that Malfoy's got you under an imperius."

Harry rolled his eyes and tugged Draco along, "Come on," he said.

"Love potion?" he called, still trotting along behind them, "Care to comment on Amortentia? That's what one of our close personal sources-"

Harry had his wand drawn and had spun to face Leonard in an instant, pinning the other man to the brick wall. "Say one more fucking word," he hissed, voice deadly quiet.

"Harry," Draco said, tugging his arm, "It's not worth it."

"Why not?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eye before turning his burning gaze on the other man who'd visibly paled and was swallowing apprehensively where Harry's wand was shoved against his adam's apple. "Why shouldn't I?" he continued. "I'm Harry Potter," he added lowly. "I can do whatever I want; The Prophet has commented on that for years now. Who's going to prosecute me?" He looked Leonard up and down, "You?" He huffed a scorn-filled laugh, "you print utter horse shit and everyone knows it. Who would believe you over me?"

"If that were true, you wouldn't be threatening me at wand-point," the wizard pointed out, in spite of the way that his knees were knocking.

"Give it a try," Harry laughed, "print it in the paper tomorrow. See what happens. See how fast you're fired." He took a step back and held his hands splayed open in front of him. “Print a word of that rubbish about love potions and I’m coming for you with a lawsuit. That’s slander,” he added before spinning around and grabbing Draco’s arm.

They’d apparated away before Draco could say another word. The moment they landed, Harry’s hands were on him, tipping Draco’s chin up, “are you alright?” he asked gently, so terribly gently.

He nodded, blinking away from his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly.

“For what, baby?” he asked, drawing him into his arms and kissing his forehead, his nose, his chin.

Draco shrugged, “that you always get harassed because of me. That we can’t ever just go out for a nice dinner. That-”

“Hey,” Harry said, carding his fingers through the short strands of hair on the back of Draco’s head. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of them; they’re ignorant arseholes. My affection for you doesn’t change because of them.”

“You deserve-”

“To be happy,” Harry finished. “And you make me so happy. So I don’t give a shit about what he or anyone else has to say. You’re mine and I’m yours. And that’s all there is.”

He leaned his forehead against Harry’s, “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

Harry laughed and kissed him again, “the feelings mutual, my love,” he assured. “The feeling is mutual.”

————————

Written for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt ‘amortentia’

[thehuntyhunties]

stardew valley adjacent AU where Killua just up and absconds to scraggly-ass farm in a tiny little town in a quiet little valley fairly far from any city and very, VERY far from his family. He brings Alluka with him because arguably she needs new start even more than he does. Together they claw their way through figuring out how to clear out the land, grow a few crops, make new things from various resources. Alluka practically moves into the town library for a full week and a half reading every book she thinks will help. Eventually they buy some chickens, then a few goats. Killua attempts to train the goats to head-butt people on command, but only one of them gets it, and the rest are frustratingly relaxed. A few weeks into the farm life they find a kitten in an overgrown tangle and they name it Marshmallow but Alluka insists on referring to it as Killua’s son/child/baby every chance she gets and Killua pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it.

They slowly get to know their neighbors, although initially Killua just keeps handing extra rocks to people (they have SO MANY rocks piling up in their storage) which pisses off nearly everyone in town except for the son of the lady who runs the saloon. Killua tries to break into the sewer. Alluka drags him up into the caves north of town because now she’s the town librarian’s favorite patron and she’s determined to find all sorts of cool things to fill the museum. They get the kitchen fixed up properly and get better at fishing. Killua keeps giving rocks to the town doctor just to piss him off and purposefully starts a feud with the manager at the local JojaMart, because their family has a stake in JojaMart and neither of them wants to see any connection to their family now that they finally have something that’s theirs. The guy who runs the farm supply store lets them know about a small cave on their farm that’s been growing weird mushrooms. Alluka finds a shadow person in the basement and they bond immediately, and she seems very young and they don’t want her out on her own, so now they have a roommate. Killua gets overly-invested in the various contests and competitions that take place throughout the year and obsesses over the melon plants and blueberry bushes while Alluka coaxes jam and pickle recipes out of the local grandmas.

They run into the saloon owner’s son at 1:30am while they’re leaving the caves because he’s going INTO the caves to collect slimes in a bucket (he’s been studying them in his free time because as an animal they make absolutely NO sense). Later he introduces Killua and Alluka to the junimos, who absolutely adore him because he’s spent his whole life in the forest getting to know them. And he also tells them “oh yeah and watch out for the big bear in the far west part of the forest, I think maybe it’s magic” and Killua says “wait what bear” and he says “oh don’t worry, even if you could get through the massive tree in the path i’m pretty sure the bear is friendly, anyways have a good night guys!” and Killua says “Gon wait come back WHAT BEAR” and Alluka makes a mental note to ask the blacksmith how much it will cost to get a stronger ax so she can bust apart the tree and meet the magic bear. 

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take

[kuiinncedes]

akjsndglidfligauhglsighoiurdfhg

[muirmarie]

hey quick question why do I keep ending up with plot. where is all this plot coming from. I do not Want this plot. I specifically requested a no plot story next. someone please come take this plot away from me.

[swordsonnet]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[star-mum]

so I'm back on my weeb bullshit and by that I mean I'm studying japanese again and things !!! are !!! happening !! i can see progress !!!

[miallurk]

Damn. One thing going wrong and I'm going full mental breakdown huh.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[dice-wizard]

Okay writers listen up

I'm gonna tell you about how I wrangled my shitbird brain into being a terrifying word-churning engine and have written over 170K words in under a year.

I wanna be clear that before unlocking this Secret Technique I was a victim of my unmedicated ADHD, able to start but never finish, able to ideate but not commit and I truly and firmly believed that I'd never write a novel and such a thing was simply outside of my reach.

Now I write (and read!!) every day. Every. Single. Day. Like some kind of scriptorial One Punch Man.

Step the First

Remove friction between yourself and writing.

I personally figured out how to comfortably write on my phone which meant I didn't have to struggle with the insurmountable task of opening my laptop.

I don't care if this means you write in a Discord server you set up for yourself, but fucking do it. Literally whatever makes you write!

(if you do write somewhere that isn't a word processor PLEASE back your work up regularly!)

Step the Second

Make that shit a habit. Write every day.

For me, I allow myself the grace that ANY progress on writing counts. One sentence? Legal. Five thousand furious hyperfixated words? Also legal.

Every day, make progress. Any progress.

I deleted Twitter from my phone and did my best to replace doomscrolling with writing. If I caught myself idly scrolling I'd close whatever I was looking at and open my draft and write one (1) sentence until I made THAT a habit, too.

Step Two-point-Five

DO NOT REWRITE. If you are creating a first draft, don't back up or restart. Continous forward motion. Second drafts and editors exist. Firsts are for ripping the fucking thing out of your brain.

If you're working on revisions after an editor or beta readers or whoever has given you feedback, then you can rewrite that's OK (and it counts as your writing for the day!)

Step the Third

Now that you've found a comfortable way to write and are doing it every day, don't stop. Keep doing it. Remember, just one sentence is all you need. You can always do more, but if one lousy sentence is all you can manage then you're still successfully writing.

Remember: this is what worked for me. Try things until you find what works for you.

You can do it. I believe in you.

[janitorhutcherson]

Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows.��

"Use your words," he demanded. 

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

[kaijuposting]

"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.

Stuff that basically amounts to...

"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."

"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."

"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."

"You should have just known better/should know this already!"

This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.

I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.

Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:

"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"

"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."

"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."

And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.

Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.