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#and i've been wanting to get this off my chest for a while
sturnmaee · 3 days
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ᡣ𐭩 Make It Up
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tags: bf!matt x fem!reader
warnings: smut, fem receiving, p in v, oral, use of baby, i lowkey forgot how to fucking tag .
summary: you and matt get in a fight so he decides to make it up to you ;)
word count: 1,250 (ish) words .
more under the cut
quick little a/n: i hope this is okay! i have been trying to write for so long — literal MONTHS — i’ve just been so unmotivated and busy!! i love you all so much. i was high asf while proofreading this omg.. i hope it’s not all bad .
The silence was deafening. Matt and I had just gotten into another pointless disagreement that left us both feeling shitty. All couples have their ups and downs sure, but Matt and I were arguing almost everyday now.
I don't blame him, he's been so caught up with his brothers and filming endlessly while I've been pent up in our small home.
The cold air hugs me tight as we sit on opposite sides of the couch, minding our business, neither of us daring to say a word. With the atmosphere being so quiet the sounds of a buzzing fridge fills my ear. Matt stares quietly at his phone trying to act preoccupied as I sit hugging myself and watching my own. I can see him in the corner of my eye wanting to say something, his mouth slightly moving.
"I," he says croakily before clearing his throat, "I'm sorry baby." he says his tone coated in guilt and regret.
I ignore him at first, before staring back at him with glossy doe eyes, a small, sad smile spreads across my face before I scoot closer to him on the couch. He stretches his right arm out inviting me into his chest.
As I lay my head on his warm chest he places a soft, loving kiss on my forehead, fixing my stray hairs with his gentle fingers, his other free hand making it's way shyly to my hip. I stare up at him as he watches down on me, my hand resting on his chest as my leg presses up against his lap.
"Let's not fight anymore," I whisper softly, "please."
"I promise, pretty girl." He replies in a reassuring, soothing voice, while stroking my hip before sneaking his hand under my shirt.
A trail of goosebumps follows the patterns of his fingertips on my skin, my hand cupping his stubble covered jaw as he takes my lips in passionately.
Matt pulls away with puffy lips before taking me in with his deep blue eyes, clouded with lust.
"Mmh, let me make it up to you." he says with an intoxicating voice before sinking back down on the couch to nip at the freckle on my neck.
He pulls away once again as I nod my head in response, the corners of his plump lips turning upwards. He holds my waist tight while fixing my position as he hops off the couch, kneeling down between my legs on the cold, wooden floor.
His fingertips toy with the material of my gray, baggy sweats, almost asking for permission,
“Is this okay baby?” he asks in the softest tone, his fingers hooked underneath my waist band.
I nod in response. The small gesture excites Matt and he tugs at my pants, pulling them down with my underwear, tossing them carelessly into a sad pile in the corner of the living room. My soft thighs now exposed as Matt takes in my legs with his lustful eyes.
He plants his warm hands on my thighs and he moves closer to my pulsing core. His tongue licks a long stripe up my slick while he holds eye contact, his fluffy hair sitting perfectly out of place. I gasp at his touch and my hand trails down to his hair, lightly tugging at it in response.
“Fuck Matt.” I moan softly while tipping my head back in pleasure.
He works his mouth at my sensitive clit, sucking, nipping, and licking so perfectly as he hums against me sending waves of sensation through my veins. One of his hands leaves my thigh, making its way closer to my wet pussy, he drags his slender fingers through my heat before pushing two fingers in softly.
His fingers curl perfectly inside of me, reaching places I never could on my own. I tighten my grip on his long hair as moans and mumbles spill from my lips, Matt continues to penetrate my walls and my swollen clit.
My legs shake, constricting around his head and he laughs against my pussy.
“Already close?” He says with fake sympathy while staring up at me with puffy, wet lips.
“Mmh s-so close.” I barely manage to reply with a full sentence, my back arching at the stimulation.
Matt moves away from my throbbing pussy, bringing his face closer to mine, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he presses the tent in his rough jeans against my burning clit. He hovers his lips over mine, breathing lightly.
"You taste so fuckin' good, baby." He groans against my lips before sinking into them, a light tang hitting my lips as his tongue explores my mouth.
"Matt.." I say softly, my tone drenched in lust and neediness.
My hands grips his belt, fiddling with it as i struggle to undo it. Matt laughs softly before standing up, swiftly undoing his belt and ripping it quickly out of the loops on his jeans, he tosses it to the pile of my clothes before kicking his jeans and boxers off.
"This what you want, hmm sweet girl?" He teases in a deep voice, his tip leaky and red, begging for touch. His hands make their way to the hem of my tee before ripping it over my head.
His eyes take in my bare chest, a smirk growing on his face.
"Such a bad girl, wearing nothing underneath just for me?" He says while positioning his tip at my entrance, his hand leading it through the puddle in core.
He pushes his length in, stretching me out immediately, letting a low moan out as he holds my hips supporting me, pulling me down onto his throbbing cock.
I let out a string of curses while moaning softly, my hands gripping the couch cushion for support. Matt picks up his pace, his thighs hitting mine as he penetrates my core. He lets out a quiet whimper, he icy blue eyes locked onto mine.
His hands grip my skin, tight enough to leave marks as he pushes deep inside of me. Matt lowers his head to meet mine his breath warm against my ear,
“I want you to cum for me baby,” he grunts, “leave a mess all over me.”
His words are ecstasy in my ear, he leaves a harsh kiss at my neck, my nails digging into his back as I feel myself getting closer.
“Oh God Matt.” I moan loudly.
Matt’s thrusts become sloppier, and I feel my orgasm creeping closer. My walls clamp down on his twitching cock the same way my fingers cling onto his bicep. Our moans and the sound of skin slapping bounces around the quiet room that now smells of sex.
I grip Matt tightly as my orgasm collapses over me, he thrusts harshly before spilling his warm cum into my walls.
“F-fuck.” He stutters though his gritted teeth before collapsing on top of me, my body jerking at the pleasure washing over me.
Matt kisses my lips softly while slowly pulling out and lying on the couch next to me, pulling the stray blanket over our sweaty bodies. He drags his fingers through the mixture of cum and saliva leaking from and pushes it into me, making me shake.
“No more fighting,” Matt says quietly, holding me tight, “I love you too much for that stupid shit.”
I giggle softly at his words while burying myself in his exposed chest, pressing a small kiss on his pale skin. I nod lightly, wrapping my leg around him and he squeezes me tightly.
this is actually the worst i’ve ever written 💀 i’m just tryna get back into write so bare wit me
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sissylittlefeather · 2 days
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Hii!! I don't know if people are sending you photo prompts or you're finding them yourself but I've got one here🫠
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🤭🤭🤭
Hi @jhoneybees! Yes, you did it right! Also, I really hope you wanted smut for this one because it got dirty QUICK. This picture is just so hot. I couldn't help it! Anyway, I hope you love it!
Welcome Home, Baby
Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie
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You're unpacking some of your clothes in the bedroom at Graceland when Elvis brings in the last of your boxes and plops them on the bed.
"Honey, these say 'bathroom', right?"
"You can't read it?" You walk over to him where he's standing next to the boxes.
"It's not my fault I can't read your toddler scrawl."
"Hey! I was in a hurry. Like your handwriting is perfect!" You nudge him with your elbow and he throws his arm around your shoulders.
"Yeah, but you're a girl." He turns and kisses your temple. "My girl. In my house now."
"I still can't believe my mother let me move in here with you. If you were anyone else, she'd die before letting me live with you before marriage. You're lucky she loves you so much." You turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist. He's sticky with sweat from moving all day, his sweatshirt marked with wet splotches, hair uncharacteristically messy.
"What can I say? I'm a lovable guy."
"That you are." You turn your face up and he lowers his lips to yours, pressing them against you softly.
"I just couldn't live without you here another second. Now we can finally be together in our own space. Just you and me." He leans in again and kisses you a little more deeply, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You can tell he's eager to christen the place as yours. It's not the first time you've been here, by far, but it's different now that you've moved in. There's a hint of future plans that has you both giddy with excitement. He kisses down your neck to your collarbone and rolls his hips into yours. You moan softly and run your hands down the front of his chest to the top of his pants.
"Mmm, baby, I need a shower first."
"You know I don't care. I like you salty." You whisper, nibbling on his earlobe. He chuckles and leans away, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and off. Now he's half naked and you want to wait for him to shower even less than you did before. The soft patch of hair on his chest drives you insane and you reach out to touch him. He grabs your hand with a devilish look on his face.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"To the shower." A smile spreads across your face and his eyes light up. "C'mon."
His fingers go to the buttons on your dress and he has you naked in less than two minutes, dropping his pants and pulling you toward the bathroom. He starts the shower and lets his mouth and hands explore your body while he waits for it to warm up. His dick was mostly hard already, but now it's standing at full attention, pressing into your lower stomach. You climb into the shower together with you behind him as he rinses himself. You press your body into his back and reach around to take his cock in one hand. As you begin to stroke him, sliding his foreskin back and forth, he leans his head back and groans. Your other hand massages his balls and his hips buck forward into your hold. After a few seconds, he turns in your arms and takes your face in his hands, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. He runs his fingers down your front, grasping your hip with one hand and your breast with the other. As his thumb grazes your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. He leans down and pulls it into his mouth, flicking his tongue against you gently. Pushing you back to the wall, he gets down on his knees and presses his lips to your center. He thrusts his tongue into you a few times and then starts making bold circles on your clit.
"Oh, god, Elvis." You moan, wrapping your fingers in his hair. He slides a finger into you and pumps it in and out as he moves his tongue quickly on you. Your walls flutter around him and he knows you're getting close. He sucks your clit gently and then flicks it with the tip of his tongue. You dance on the edge of your release, your heart pounding as he dives in fully, licking your clit like his life depends on it.
"Come on, baby, cum for me." He says, his voice deep and husky with lust. You moan loudly as your climax slams into you, bursting out from your center to the edges of your fingertips. You shudder and pulse around his finger and feel him smile into you as his tongue makes its final sweeps over your clit.
He stands up, a smug look on his face. There's nothing he loves more than ruining you with his mouth and then watching as you try to compose yourself after. But this time, you don't even try. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him and take his cock in your mouth as deep as it'll go.
"Oh, fuck, baby." He stumbles backwards and slams his hand against the wall to regain his balance. This is the first time you've reciprocated with your mouth. Honestly, you have no idea what you're doing, but you figure you'll just lick and suck and move on him as long as you can, mimicking what you do with your hand. "Goddamnit..."
His teeth are clenched and his eyes roll back as you open your throat and press your nose into the patch of hair at the base of him. You gag a little, but his reaction is worth the discomfort. Pulling back, you pump him with your hand and lick a circle around his exposed tip.
"Baby, if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum in your mouth. My God." He still has himself braced on the wall, trembling slightly. You're trying to decide if you're okay with that when he pulls away from you quickly, standing you up and turning you to face the wall. He bends his knees and pushes into you from behind, pounding you relentlessly and holding your hips with his long fingers. You cry out with each thrust of his hips as he fills you over and over again passionately. He grunts and slams into you, balls slapping against your ass. You love when he gets like this, almost feral with need for you. Knowing that you've driven him this wild makes you throb with desire and his aggressive thrusting is exactly what you need. Your breasts bounce as he pounds into you and you feel his body tense as he groans.
"Fuck, yes, baby!" He cries out as he fills you one last time, shooting his release deep inside you. His legs shake as he slides out of you, stumbling backwards again to lean against the shower wall. You turn to face him and lean against the wall behind you too. You're both panting and sweating and the water is still running in between you. He starts to chuckle and you giggle a little and before you know it, you're both laughing, the sound echoing through the bathroom. He turns the faucet to make it run from the tap and begins to fill the bathtub. You both slide down the wall until you're sitting in the tub. He reaches out and gestures for you to come over to him. You do and then lean your back against his chest as the water rises around you. He turns the tap off and nuzzles your ear with his nose, whispering.
"I figured we needed to relax and recover."
"Ha! You were right!" He laughs his big booming laugh again and wraps you in his arms. You lay together in the tub, both of you still shaking from the feverish heat of your lovemaking. After a few minutes of silence, you start to relax. He kisses your cheek and sighs.
"Welcome home, baby."
******
The End
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vivwritesfics · 6 hours
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Slow Down, You're Gonna Crash
Chapter Two
Summary: Being a Verstappen means realising that you'll never be as good as her brother. She knew it. That was why she ran away to California. Of course, she's gonna fall for the older, naval aviator. And, of course, it pisses her family off.
Bradley Bradshaw x F1!Driver Reader
Warnings: Allusions to smut
1.6K
Series Masterlist
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She'd woken up in a good mood. For the first time since her contract had ended, she woke up in a good mood.
Maybe it was because she'd been fucked so good the night before. Maybe it was because this six foot something Adonis still had his strong arms wrapped around her, breath against the back of her neck as he squeezed her.
The night must have been the best sex of her life. It was something she knew she'd never forget. No matter who else she ended up sleeping with after this, she'd always be picturing Bradley, picturing the way he squeezed his eyes shut as he came, strong arms only temporarily releasing their hold on her.
When she woke up, she tried to crawl out of his hold. But Bradley, this older stranger who doubled as some kind of sex God, tightened his hold on her. Holy fuck, she'd never had a one night stand that didn't want her to sneak out as soon as she woke up. Some didn't even want her spending the night.
(That's what you get when you fool around with boys instead of men).
His moustached lips pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. "Good morning," he said in a gorgeously raspy voice. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.
"Your bed is definitely better than the motel I've been staying in," she whispered as she played with his hands as he kept them wrapped around her middle.
Bradley let out a hum, no doubt wearing a grin. "I'll make a better breakfast than the motel, too," he promised and released her from his hold.
"Breakfast?" She couldn't stop the way her voice squeaked at that. She'd never been asked for breakfast after spending the night before. It was just another reminder that Bradley was a man, a man who knew how to treat a lady right.
He released her, and she hated the way she missed his strong arms around her. He stood up, grabbed his underwear from the floor, and pulled them up his strong legs. Holy shit, there was no way this man was human. He was just too perfect.
She sat up and stretched, letting the blanket fall away from her body. Bradley watched. He didn't want to be creepy, or stare, but he couldn't help it. He'd seen her body last night, watched the way she moved as she rode his cock, bouncing beautifully. But, even after all of that, he still couldn't get enough.
And it wasn't like this was anything other than a one night stand. He'd never see her again, right? So, there really was no harm in him staring. And, by the way she caught his eye, Bradley could only assume that she didn't mind.
She looked to her left, at the nightstand. "You put my phone on charge?" She asked as she picked it up. Her phone hadn't had full battery in weeks and, now that it did, it was only a matter of time before it started ringing again.
Bradley gave her clothes, a shirt and a pair of shorts, and went to go and make breakfast while she got changed. Once she was dressed (in the naval academy shirt that smelled so much like him she could have drowned in it), she grabbed her phone.
Too many missed calls to count. Almost all of them were from her brother, but a couple were from her father. She had some from her friends, from her manager and trainer, too. But at least ninety percent of them were from her older brother.
As she held the phone in her hands. It began ringing. His face popped up on the screen. Since she'd fled to the USA, she'd been ignoring her brothers calls. But now, after the good mood Bradley had put her in, she was much more inclined to pick up.
"Holy shit," he said when she put the phone up to her ear. Except, he didn't say it in English. He said it in Dutch, but this writer does not speak Dutch. "I've been calling for weeks! Where the fuck are you?"
"Calm down," she replied quickly, her head falling into her hand. That good mood of hers was quickly disappearing, instead being replaced by a headache. "It doesn't matter where I am. I just wanted you to know I'm not dead."
Max let out a scoff. "I know you're in the States."
A scowl immediately crossed her face. "Fucking Daniel," she muttered. Daniel, the man that had taken her job and let her hide out at his place in Los Angeles. The man who's car she had technically stolen and taken on a road trip across the states. The man who had ratted her out to her brother and, no doubt, her father.
"He's worried about you," Max replied. "Everybody on the grid is. They say you haven't spoken to any of them since the contract announcement."
She laid back on the bed, the scent of Bradley surrounding her. It was so incredibly comfortable and served to calm her down just a little bit. "So what if I haven't? I haven't spoken to you, or dad, or any of our siblings," she said, unwilling to list of the names of the football team of kids their father was trying to create.
"Have you at least spoken to your mother?" Max asked, his voice surprisingly patient. It was a side of Max the rest of the world didn't get to see. In this moment he wasn't Max the F1 driver, he was Max the big brother.
The laugh that left her lips was bitter. "No, Max. I haven't." She practically spat the words out. "Can I go now? This guy is making me breakfast."
"What guy?"
"It's not any of your business, Max."
He let out another scoff. "Fine, whatever. Have fun, be safe. Don't get any diseases."
"You're an asshole."
The call was ended after that. She might have put it down on Max, he might have put it down on her. It was hard to tell. Her head hit the pillow and she took a moment to look up at the ceiling. She'd woken up from a night of incredible rest and she was already exhausted. Conversations with Max always took it out of her.
Leaving her phone on the bed, she got up and walked out of the bedroom. She headed down the stairs, following the smell of sizzling sausages until she reached the kitchen.
It was a sight like no other, seeing Bradley shirtless at the stove as he buttered toast and cooked sausages and eggs. It was the first thing thing she'd eaten this whole trip that her trainer wouldn't kill her over (even if it still was incredibly unhealthy).
"Have you got any other plans while you're here?" He asked as he placed food in front of her.
She shrugged her shoulders as she began eating. "I don't really do plans," she mumbled between bites of toast. "I just... go where the wind takes me."
Bradley sat opposite her. Even sitting down, he dwarfed her. "Is there any chance of you sticking around in San Diego?" He asked as he sipped his coffee.
A laugh bubbled up from her throat. "You know, most hook ups don't want somebody to stick around after they've fucked," she said and finished her breakfast (Bradley couldn't help but notice she still had half a plate left when she pushed it away, but he didn't comment on it).
He wiped the coffee away from his moustache. "Hooking up is a young man's game," he mumbled. "Well, if you decide to stay for a while, you know where to find me."
She looked up at him through her lashes and blinked slowly, in a sultry manner. Bradley couldn't take his eyes off of her, his shorts becoming significantly tighter. "And, if I can't find you?"
Bradley grabbed his phone from the counter top. She couldn't help but watch as he put in his passcode (One, two, three, four. If that didn't show his age, she wasn't sure what did). He passed it to her, letting her put in her number. As soon as she passed the phone back, Bradley sent her a text. "There," he said. "Now you can reach me any time."
She couldn't hide her grin. But then she looked at the rather large clock above his sink. "I should probably get out of your hair," she said, standing up.
"I'll drive you," he said and stood up.
As soo as they were dressed, Bradley helped her into the Bronco (something she could very easily get used to), and drove her to The Hard Deck, at her request.
"You know," he had said while he drove her. "If you stick around, I could show you some pretty cool places."
She couldn't help but smile. "I might just take you up on that."
He pulled upside the McLaren parked outside of The Hard Deck. "Thank you, Rooster," she said and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
He watched as she got out of the Bronco and climbed into the McLaren parked next to him. It was almost comical, the way he pulled his aviators down to reveal his wide eyes.
Who the hell was this girl?
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Pussy Magnet
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Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •
Summary: Jake was always good with animals.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: I'm so sorry I had to make this stupid joke, I'm-
Warnings: Terrible jokes, Jake stealing Steven and Marc's clothes, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 567
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You can’t help but smile as you glance over at Jake. You’re in the middle of speaking with your friend, whose home you’re currently in. She had invited you to a small barbeque, which had turned into an impromptu dinner party when the heavens had opened. 
There were only seven of you in total, so it wasn’t too overcrowded. 
While everyone else were seated on, or around the large armchair and settee in the living room, Jake was the exception. 
He was laying on his side, his hand outstretched under the bookcase, slowly coaxing your friend’s new kitten out of hiding. 
There was the largest, softest smile plastered over his face as the cat slowly inches forward and sniffed his fingers. 
He had been carefully befriending the kitten over the last forty minutes, taking it as a personal mission the second your friend mentioned she had a new kitten that was painfully shy around new people. 
She was a small thing, the runt of the litter, black and white with wide green eyes. Your friend and her partner had affectionately named her ‘Newspaper’.  
Slowly Newspaper crept closer to him, a few careful steps forward until she was completely out from under the bookshelf’s protection. She paused, watching Jake carefully before shuffling closer again. 
Your friend asks you a question and you turn back to her and the conversation around you. 
It’s about twenty minutes later that Jake comes and sits down next to you, grinning intently. 
You turn to him, raising an eyebrow playfully and his grin widens. 
He’s holding his shirt, a borrowed one from Steven, at an odd angle. Basically cradling it. Even if there wasn’t a bulge over his left chest it would be easy to work out why.
“What you got there?” You ask innocently. 
“Nothing.” He beams at you and leans closer, moving his shirt slightly to the side to show you Newspaper nestled against him and purring. 
You grin. 
“You think Marc’ll tell me off for getting cat hair on his t-shirt?” 
“Nah.” You shake your head. “He might tell you off for borrowing his clothes again, but not for the cat hair.”
Jake snorts. “Steven doesn’t mind when I do it.” 
You grin wider. 
“It’s Marc’s fault anyway for buying comfy clothes.” 
That makes you laugh. 
Newspaper moves a little in her sleep, tucking in closer to Jake. 
You pause for a moment, watching the kitten. A terrible joke pops into your head as if it was placed there by some unseen force. Part of you wonders if Khonshu is whispering in your ear, but then again Jake would have heard him too. 
“Jake…” You say as naturally as you can. 
“Hmm?” He glances up, clocking the silly expression on your face before you even get a chance to talk. 
You speak anyway. “You’re really good with animals…”
“Yeah.” He pins you with his deadpan gaze, ready for whatever corny joke you’re going to say next. 
“Some could say you’re a … pussy magnet.”
He snorts, breaking his nonchalant facade as quickly as he formed it and nudges you playfully in the arm with his shoulder. 
You expect an eye roll when he looks back at you, something along the lines of ‘that’s awful.’ But instead he smiles, silky smooth. “I have been told that in my time.” He waggled his eyebrows at you until you laughed and woke up the kitten. 
____________________________________________
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viesanterieures · 2 days
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𝑨 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 | 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟏
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Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader
next chapter
summary: Robert and the reader have nothing in common. He's the son of a multi millionaire and future heir to a massive energy company, she doesn't really stand out in the big city Paris. But then Robert catches her trying to steal from him. No longer able to stand the pressure from his father and his company, Robert offers her a deal.
warnings: swearing, bad father-son relationship
word count: 2.5k+
note: you don’t have to watch inception to understand this story
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Today was such a success, wasn't it, Clarke?"
The older man at the wheel sighed and tried to look away from the passenger. Clarke knew he was being sarcastic.
"I'm sorry for you, Sir," he replied. "But days like this happen. Even as the future CEO of Fischer Morrow."
The younger, dark-haired man in the back just rolled his eyes in frustration. "Don't call me that. I've spent my whole life in his shadow. He mocked me for every little thing, always saying I wasn't a worthy heir. And now that the old man is on his deathbed, he's suddenly changed his mind."
Clarke slammed on the brakes in shock. He was so distracted by the conversation that he almost missed the red light directly in front of him.
"But Mr Fischer... He is your father," he answered, his hands still shaking a little.
Fischer didn't seem to care that his driver had almost had an accident. Lost in thought, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the cold car window. The heavy rain pelted down loudly, leaving thick streaks. "He was never really a father to me," he finally said quietly.
Clarke remained silent, avoiding Fischer's gaze in the rear-view mirror. The light turned green again and he stepped on the accelerator so hard that Fischer's face almost hit the front seat.
"Hey, pay attention, okay? I've had enough shit happen to me today, I don't want to end up in hospital tonight."
"I’m sorry, Sir," the driver muttered, a bit intimidated.
Fischer snorted angrily and tugged at his shirt. It was a beautiful white piece from an exclusive luxury fashion brand of which he was particularly proud. Only now it was covered in a large brown coffee stain. Fischer was seething with rage at the thought of what had happened.
He had an important meeting in Paris today to present The Fischer Morrow, his father's leading energy company, to potential clients.
Fischer had prepared for everything, practiced the presentation several times, rehearsed every word to perfection and checked his appearance in the mirror at least five times. He had got up early in the morning to make sure he had enough time to get ready, so that every hair was in place, the tie neatly tied and the shirt without the slightest crease. An immaculate appearance was essential to him. He was vain in every way.
But everything changed when the secretary balanced a tray of coffee in the meeting room. Fischer had only noticed her out of the corner of his eye, turned around to the audience and ended up bumping into her.
Luckily the coffee was no longer boiling hot, otherwise he would have spent the rest of the day in hospital with serious burns. But it was enough to knock Fischer off his game.
Angry and embarrassed at the same time, he could hardly concentrate on the content of his presentation. So much so that by the end he could barely form a complete sentence.
In other words: The Fischer Morrow had no new clients.
Had Robert Fisher's father Maurice not been terminally ill, he would certainly have given him hell and accused him of being an unworthy heir.
As always. As he had done for many years, ever since Robert was a little boy. Maurice had never thought of him as a son. He only ever spoke of him as the heir to his business.
God, how Robert hated the job. But he couldn't give it up while his father was still alive. Maurice Fischer seemed to want to give his company to a man he couldn't stand, but to whom he was related by blood, rather than to a complete stranger.
Robert didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the back seat, lost in thought, when Clarke finally parked the car safely outside the hotel where he was staying for a few days.
The man hurried out of the car to open the door for his passenger, staring at Robert's dirty shirt. Fischer fumbled in his pocket for the key to the hotel room.
"Good night, see you tomorrow," he murmured, waving a quick goodbye to his driver. Finally, he turned around on the heel of his shiny black shoes to enter the luxury hotel.
A wave of tiredness suddenly hit him, and all he wanted to do was take a shower and fall into a warm, soft bed.
When he finally opened the door, the light in the suite was on. Roberts heart began to beat faster and he frowned in confusion. He was pretty sure he had turned it off earlier. Had the room service forgotten to turn it off after they had left the room?
But when he suddenly noticed movement from the rear room, followed by strange scratching and tapping noises, he froze.
What the hell was that?
Quietly, still clutching the key, he entered the room and was almost scared to death when he saw the person in his hotel suite. They were fiddling with his wall safe, apparently trying to break it open.
***
She turned around as she heard someone open the door to the hotel room. Damn it! Why would he be back from his meeting so early?
The woman held her breath. She knew her plan was completely insane and dangerous, and that she would certainly end up in prison. But at this moment, she really didn't know any other way to help herself. Her mountain of debt seemed to grow every month. Her low salary as a hotel employee and the fact that even the smallest apartments in Paris cost a fortune didn't help. After months of stress and sleepless nights, she couldn't take it any more.
She finally saw her chance when she found out that the son of a multi-millionaire was staying at the hotel.
"I asked you, what the hell are you doing here?" The deep, threatening voice instantly made her shiver. Then she began to examine the man carefully.
He was dark-haired, slim and wearing a classic black suit. The only thing that disturbed this elegant image was a large brown stain on his shirt.
Her eyes wandered up and she caught a glimpse of his face. The man's features were sharp, he had a prominent jaw, but the most striking thing was his bright blue eyes that were staring at her angrily.
Silence fell over the room like a big blanket. Only her fast breathing and the ticking of a clock could be heard.
"Room service..." she finally managed to say in a hoarse voice. "Mr Fischer I ..."
Robert noticed her strong French accent.
"I'm sorry." She tried to avoid the man's angry gaze but he kept on staring at her with his icy blue eyes as she pressed her back even harder against the wall.
"Are you kidding me? You broke into my room and tried to steal my money. Room service my ass. I'm calling the police."
"Wait!" she interrupted him in panic, "I didn't steal anything, I..."
She knew that it was over for her. But she alone was responsible for this mess by allowing her emotions succeed against her mind. And now she had to face the consequences.
The woman put her trembling hands on her face and tried to hold back the tears. Suddenly another shock went through her body as a phone started to ring loudly.
Fischer pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered in an energetic voice: "Uncle Peter, now is not the time to call!" Then suddenly there was silence. Much too quiet for her taste.
Glancing through her fingers, she saw the man in front of her hold his forehead and then rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Peter...How does Dad know what happened today, he's in hospital in Sydney...Who told him that?"
His voice, which had just been deafeningly loud, had now dropped to a low whisper. He finally said goodbye to the caller. Again the room was completely silent. Fischer just stood there with his hands in his pockets, his head slightly bowed.
For a moment she considered taking the opportunity to make her escape but then she dismissed the idea. Her legs were paralysed by fear, he also was half a head taller and probably faster than her and would catch her immediately. Fischer slowly raised his eyes and stared at the young woman in front of him.
Desperation was written all over her face.
***
He couldn't call the police now. That would draw even more attention to him, and for weeks the press had been writing one false article after another about him.
If the press found out, they would twist everything around trying to destroy his image, as they often did.
So he would not only be the spoiled and lazy millionaire's son who took money from his dying father, but also the man who lured beautiful young women into his hotel room and locked them up in there.
Robert sighed and sat down in one of the red velvet armchairs.
"Alright, go ahead. Report me. Call the police. I was just trying to get money to buy food and pay my rent. You probably don't know anything about money problems."
He lifted his head as he heard her voice. Robert didn't know why, but somehow he felt compassion.
But he didn't answer, because he was too busy thinking about his own problems. "I can't take it anymore, I have to get away from here. Away from my father. Away from Fischer Morrow. Somewhere where I won't get any more attention..."
The young woman finally sat down beside him and smoothed her blouse for a moment. "It's really not nice to be almost invisible and not be noticed by anyone." She shrugged briefly.
"I'd trade my life for yours in a heartbeat, I'm not kidding," Robert said.
Why had he just said that?
The woman just laughed. "Believe me monsieur, you really don't want to do that."
In a very strange way, he felt sorry for her. He couldn't really explain it, after all she had almost robbed his hotel room. But somehow he felt attracted to her.
And at that moment, the last rational thought after this nerve-wracking day left his head. He suggested something to her that he would never have done in his right mind.
How about... you get me out of the hotel unnoticed and take me somewhere where I can stay for a few days. In return, no one will know about your robbery of my hotel room. Deal?"
One of her eyebrows moved up as he said those words. "You want me to take you to my flat?" She stared at him in disbelief.
Robert put on his charming smile that usually worked on every lady. "Come on, a lot of women would kill for what I just offered you. Some ladies scream when they see me walking down the street like I was a movie star or something. They've even told me I'm the most beautiful man they've ever seen.
She studied him quickly. He was undeniably handsome, but also incredibly arrogant.
"And how do I know you're not dangerous?" She gave Robert a disparaging look.
"Yes, maybe I‘m a serial killer, who knows", Robert joked.
"You must know that I am very suspicious. But I can't lose my job or go to jail." He could see her struggling to make the right decision.
"All right," she said finally, after half an eternity. "I'll help you. On the condition that no one ever finds out that I tried to steal from you."
Fischer smiled again. "You can take my word for it, Madmoiselle..." He held out his hand, noticing her cautious gaze. "Come on, you can tell me your name now."
"Call me YN."
"Okay, YN. Now let's get out of here."
Finally she took his hand. Her fingers felt cold.
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The game continues (Truth or dare part 2) - Joe Toye x F!Reader
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Summary: Part two of "Truth or dare". Toye and Reader go to his room to finish what they started earlier that night.
Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), slight male dom, oral teasing (male receiving), female pronouns/body parts.
A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.
A/N pt 2: Full discloser, this story took on a mind of its own and ended up filthier than I planned. But I regret nothing. As always, please like, comment, reblog :) :) :) They keep me going.
As promised, @imaginethatneathuhpartdos here's part two! I hope you like it!!
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True to his word, Joe was waiting for me when I walked out of the medic station thoroughly exhausted. Without speaking, he tossed the cigarette he was holding away, grabbed my hand and started leading us towards the housing areas. When we reached the building housing the NCO's, Joe did a quick look around then ushered me inside quickly before a patrol officer saw me. Up a flight of stairs and past two doors later we were inside Joe's room.
The second the door clicks shut, Joe locks it and spins us around so I am effectively pinned between it and him. He teasingly brushes his lips against mine before trailing kisses across my cheek to my ear.
"I've been distracted all fucking night, thanks to you. A Kraut tank could have drove right past me and I wouldn't have noticed or cared." His breathe is hot against my ear, followed by a soft kiss. I turn my head and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"Did you touch yourself?" I, too, was distracted all night thinking about him but I wasn't about to admit it.
Joe pulls back enough to meet me eyes, a smirk on his face, "A good soldier follows orders, ma'am." He presses his hips against mine and I can feel how hard he still is. I grab his jacket and keep him anchored against me.
"Well done, soldier. I guess I should reward you." I move us around so he's now leaning against the door. "Let's continue our game, but it's going to be all truths. So, how do you want your reward: hand or mouth?" When he doesn't immediately respond, I run my hand down his chest, stomach and stop right on top of his bulge giving it a hard squeeze. "Hands or mouth, Sergeant?"
Joe's eyes are nearly black with arousal as he breathes out, "Mouth."
In a flash, I'm on my knees unbuckling his belt and pulling his layers down until his penis is free. The tip is flushed red with precum leaking out. I glance up, meeting his gaze as I lean forward and lick his tip clean.
"Fucking tease." Joe grits out behind clenched teeth, his breathing hard and uneven already. I shoot him a smirk and while I would have loved to have drawn this out, he wasn't the only one horny beyond belief. Opening my mouth wide, I lean forward again and take as much of him as I can without gagging. "Goddamn!" Joe groans above me and I feel his hand tangle in my hair, holding tight.
He lets me set the pace, starting in slow bobs with my tongue swirling around his tip and the vein running up his underside. I can tell he's getting antsy when his hips buck lightly up and his grip in my hair gets tighter. At a small tug on my strands, I moan around his penis and he lets out a hiss. Picking up my pace, I use one hand to stroke what isn't in my mouth, squeezing his base and slip the other between my thighs to alleviate some of my own throbbing.
Joe's thrusts start to become harder and he's cursing with every breathe he lets out. Soon he's tugging my head back and off of him, ignoring my attempts to keep going.
"I promise I'll cum in your mouth next time baby. Right now, I need to cum in your pussy." He doesn't wait for a response, just pulls me flush against him and plunges his tongue inside my mouth. These kisses are possessive and leave no room doubt that Joe Toye is in control now.
I'm positive a button or two gets ripped from our clothes in our haste to be naked, but neither of us give a damn at this point. Joe pushes me down onto the bed, hands gripping my thighs as he kneels between them, drinking me in. Slowly he leans over me, hovering just a hairs breathe away from touching me and flips the game on me.
"Back or knees?" My brain is practically mush at this point and I can't fully comprehend what he's asking. He gives a slap to my thigh, bringing my thoughts out of a haze for a moment while he repeats his question. "You staying like this or or getting on your knee's for me again?"
"Knee's." Joe's kissing me hard as the word flies from my mouth, dominating me yet again. He bites my lip hard as he pulls away and slaps my thigh again, signaling me to flip around. No sooner am I on my hands and knee's before him, then I feel his fingers stroking me, spreading my wetness around.
"Next game, I'm tying you to this bed and counting how many times I can make you cum with my tongue and fingers." His voice is dark and full of a promise I know he will keep. My only response is to moan and push my hips back towards him. One of his hands grabs hold of my hip so hard I know it'll bruise, and love that, and the other trails up my spine and grabs a fistful of hair again.
Without warning, he lines himself up and bottoms out inside me. We curse at the same time, reveling in the feeling of finally being connected after so much build up, and between one breathe and the next he starts fucking me.
The pace is brutal and primal and perfect. First he uses his hand in my hair to shove my upper half more onto the bed, angling my hips to hit me deeper and grinding every time he bottoms out. All thoughts have left my mind and the only thing I can focus on is the feeling of him and trying to breathe. Behind me, Joe is bouncing between compliments and cursing.
"Fuck. You're so goddamn tight. Jesus Christ, baby. You were made for me."
The next time he bottom's out, he pulls me up so my back is flush with his front and then goes back to his previous pace. The hand that was on my hip, moves around and up my stomach, so he can massage my breasts and tweak my nipples. Joe uses his leverage in my hair to turn my head at the right angle to give me a bruising kiss.
"Touch your clit, baby. I need you to cum." He bites my lip before giving me another hard kiss. My hand flies down to my bud and starts rubbing furiously to help me fall over the edge. Joe's thrusts start to become sloppy and I know he's just as close as I am. "I'm close, doll. Hurry up. Cum!" He drops his head and bites my shoulder hard enough I wouldn't be surprised if it drew blood.
The combination of pain and pleasure tips me over and if he wasn't hold me up with his arm I would have collapsed into the bed. My orgasm triggers his and he cums with a loud shout. Joe manages a few more ruts before shifting us so we fall onto the bed on our sides, his arms tangled around me keeping us pressed together.
Is it minutes or hours that go by, neither of us know or care. We eventually part, Joe uses his undershirt to clean up between my legs, passing me a clean t-shirt to sleep in. After he's finished cleaning up the best he can, he tosses on a pair of underwear and pulls a blanket over the both of us, dragging me to lay across his chest. As the afterglow sets in and mixes with our previous exhausting, we manage quiet 'goodnights' and fall into a deep sleep.
Bonus scene: The next day
"You're a dumb ass, you know that?" I say, working on finishing up a few stitches on Guarnere's forehead. He had tried to jump between some ruble on patrol and needless to say he didn't make it.
"But I'm still handsome right?" He shoots me an overly confident smirk. I just roll my eyes and laugh.
"Not my type, but I'll confirm with the other nurses that like to stare at you."
"Speaking of you type, there was some pretty loud noises going on in the house last night. And Toye has a big ass mark on his neck. Know anything about it?" He starts to laugh as I feel my cheeks burn, and I not so accidently pull on the last stitch harder than needed to make him wince.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Before he can make a smart ass remark back, Tab comes walking into the medic station flowers in hand. Guarnere and I share a slightly confused look, as the former man stops in front of us.
"Gee, thanks Tab. But daisy's ain't really my favorite." Guarnere jokes.
Tab just ignores him and looks at me, "Do you know where Emily is? I heard she was working a shift today?"
"Yeah, she's in the supply closet. End of the hall." I wave vaguely and watch him nearly jog out of sight.
"What the hell was that?" I ask out loud, not really expecting an answer.
"Must have been what Toye wanted to talk to him about at breakfast. Something about owing Emily a 'thank you'." Guarnere gave me a curious look as I started smiling. Instead of elaborating, I snip off the end of his stitch and nod at my handing work, taking a step back.
"There, good as new. Try to not screw up my hard work." Guarnere hops off the bed.
"Thanks, sweetheart. Now if you don't mind, could you point out the nurses that stare at me?"
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maerhiya · 2 months
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in regards to the constant dismissal of his aroace identity, i hate it when alastor 'fans' say and use the excuse: "he's fictional, he won't get offended."
like, you're right, but it can and will offend us.
when you see yourself being represented on screen, of course you'd feel enthusiastic about it — representation allows individuals to see themselves reflected in the media they consume, validating their identities and experiences. but when so many people take that representation and decide to disregard and discard it, it is so fucking frustrating. we finally have another character to be part of the tiny amount of representation we have, but then people don't even care about how much it means to us? like yeah, alastor won't get offended because he's not real, but it frustrates and annoys us. do you realize that it's also technically invalidating the aroace community? that you're invalidating our feelings? imagine feeling like you're finally being seen because your orientation is finally being represented in media, and people just decide to blatantly ignore, discard, and invalidate it.
media has such a powerful influence on real life, representation being a prevalent factor of it. there are numerous posts that dictate how people went to watch a movie/show or read a book just because a character depicts their identity in it — obviously, being represented is an incredibly uplifting and validating experience.
which is why seeing an aroace character in a popular show is so meaningful to us because we live in a world where romance and sex are literally everywhere and prioritized above all else. (and it's pretty obvious that alastor's on the repulsed end of the spectrum, but even if he wasn't, at least make an effort to acknowledge his sexuality instead of continuing to portray him as allo; aroace folks can be in relationships but it's not going to be the same thing with allos' experiences.)
any and every representation matters, but why does that seem to stop at people under the aroace spectrum? like y'all can't even let us appreciate the scraps of representation we have. we barely have any, so are we really that dramatic for being upset at how people easily disregard and dismiss our identities that are being depicted on screen just like that? is it truly wrong of us to want to defend and maintain the little representation we have?
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jessamine-rose · 6 months
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/obey me! vent/
#jessamine rambles#before i start. pls keep in mind that this is fully subjective and could just be a 'me' problem. i just want to get this off my chest#ngl i've been contemplating on whether i want to stop playing obey me. both the og game and nightbringer#idk i've been playing the game since its first month and while it's given me a lot of joy + memories + chances to befriend other ppl. i'm#pretty burned out. not to mention TIRED of my consistent disappointment with the game#the main story.....where do i start?? i actually enjoyed s1-s3 despite my qualms with the fillers and pacing but s4 disappointed me. i was#rlly looking forward to simeon's storyline and the new characters but ultimately. the devs tried to squeeze too many things into one season#not to mention that there is a notable difference in how the characters are written. i.e. beel's hunger and asmo's beauty#being watered down to running gags instead of the complexities explored in the old dg stories and chara songs#gameplay-wise. i was there when the devs raised the rewards price of the event urs and removed the demon ssrs completely#but nightbringer was the last straw for me. the amount of time it takes to grind for two games. knowing that the og app has essentially bee#abandoned by the devs?? not to mention that while the plot is interesting. i haven't touched the main story ever since the coma arc#i will give credit to the devs for improving the event stories by choosing to focus on 1-2 demons. but it has always felt like a quantity >#quality situation. esp if i were to compare it to my other fandoms#it also doesn't help that i'm currently at a point of my life where i'm questioning if i could use my time on obm for better things#seeing how the game is giving me less reasons to believe it is worth my time#idk this may also be a short-term phase since i DID get back into twst after a long hiatus and i recently got into whb#which btw has felt like a breath of fresh air despite my frustrations with the bugs and current gacha#but yeahhhh........as much as i love the obm characters and fanfics. i'm just tired#at this point i feel like the only reason why i still play the game is due to the nostalgia and so i don't waste the years of grinding#aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh#this is what i get for being the type of player who only plays a few games so they can rlly dedicate their time and passion to it#that's all
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tvrningout-a · 8 months
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so!! a little housekeeping is in order!!
i'm gonna be here kinda off and on bc i'm going to work on school stuff! and bc my inspiration's been decent, i might reblog a lil spicy meme over on @tvrningon and something fluffy here, though ofc you're free to send in any meme i've reblogged in the past <3 i also have an inbox call that i'll probably work on sometime later today!
and just to kinda share where my head's at, my muse for kny hasn't been very high lately, so i'm thinking of changing my muse list in a way that reflects that. i just!! haven't figured out how exactly. i might categorize the lists by fandom and then by primary, secondary, and tertiary/request. i just want to show that my focus is on chiyo/modern muses, fantasy, and even s.piderverse stuff atm but without shoving all my other muses off the list or into the request category. i can definitely still write everybody!! the muse just isn't there like it used to be.
this doesn't affect many people here, but i may also edit chiyo's bio to make her fandomless again; i just don't interact with hq!! muses very often anymore, and her story isn't one that necessarily needs to be connected to hq!! to work.
i apologize if any of this disappoints anybody btw! i know this blog used to be very kny-centered, and a lot of people followed me for that originally. but i need to do what's going to make being here fun for me, which means changing things. if you need to soft/hardblock me, there's no hard feelings, and i wish you the best <3
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autistic-shaiapouf · 2 months
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Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by
#bc like. i'm getting by just fine. i don't have anything to be reasonably worried about#but also when i was a kid my father would break down my mother's paycheck and basically explain how broke we were#and that May Have Affected Me Somewhat#as well as just. the way you consistently see the advice to just save! don't get takeout! necessities! and i'm not intent on living like#a monk nor am i intent on being on that grindset for financial gain#it's like i don't intrinsically care but i have so many messages given to me about how i need to care a lot and it puts me in a weird spot#i am simultaneously standing still and moving at mach speeds#i mean right now i just need a safety net while in between jobs; after that i need to save up to move out of state bc the uh#political situation and upcoming presidential election don't seem very sustainable for someone like me anymore#they weren't to begin with but i don't wanna stick around to see how bad it's gonna get#but it's like. okay and then what? save for what? going back to school i guess? idk#i feel like i keep asking myself what i'm trying to accomplish and keep trying to force myself to have answers#here and now when i have to be okay with taking things one step at a time instead of having everything here and now#it's simultaneously fine and terrible and i am holding two conflicting yet equal truths#i feel i may have a clearer head once i leave my current job. i'm trying to look but nothing feels appealing given how#burnt out i already feel. i dread going back into my workplace and i fear it's showing to the patients and i don't want that#i want a month off to rediscover who i am as a person outside of getting yelled at in retail and then pick something back up#could be feasible. genuinely could be. i need to sort out the health insurance aspect but. that's lowkey the plan?#to construct a financial safety net and then slam on the breaks for a while; see if i can strike up a deal with the staff about me#coming in for specific tasks bc we already know i'm quick and efficient with the inventory so i do have a little leverage#you know what. this is getting some of it off my chest and i'm starting to feel confident again lmao#i won't be doing weekends starting either next week or the week after so that's a start! i just think i want everything done right now#bc i'm afraid i won't have the chance again but i will. i definitely will#i just need to let myself get to that point; it's just the immense drain from the register work and the Everything that comes with retail#also having to accept that it's okay to leave this; there's not something wrong with me like. ''not being able to handle it'' or w/e#no mindfulness or detachment could've saved me; it was shit and i'm hitting the bricks and that's all there is to it#i've been thinking a lot about it all lately bc it's what's most prominent in my life rn of course#idk. pondering. introspecting. as i am wont to do#anyways if you've read all this you're a real mvp and i am kissing you on the hand#shai speaks
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askdacast · 9 months
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a bit of a personal ramble here...actually no I’m about to be really cringe as I kind of rant about the anxieties and issues I’ve been going through lately in a super roundabout way
but in the long ago days (by which I mean like 10 years ago) and when I was an even louder Persona fan, I made a Shadow version of my main OC/blatant self-insert Alyss Baraen and it was therapeutic to some extent
(more under the cut)
Shadow Alyss even had a cringe name and design - Gerhild, the Witch of Destiny (very long story), and was kind of a representation of my suppressed anger issues and general teenage angst at being different. One could say, a manifestation of the Id.
You can actually find that name in the really old posts of this blog but...please don’t “orz
All that was kinda based off the issues that a teenaged me knew of herself, but I feel rather ashamed to say, those issues haven’t 100% gone away, they still ebb and flow and take different forms, and I gotta smash them all the same
What I am saying is that I’ve been gnawing on the idea of re-doing the “Shadow Alyss” idea with the updated knowledge of myself now and the more recent anxieties I’ve had to deal with. And the hilarity is that the motif is completely the opposite of what I did as a teenager while somehow still being thematically the same.
Given the witch/Carmen San Diego design motifs the regular Alyss already has from the red and hat, I couldn’t help but also notice how much like a Spanish Inquisitor (insert Monty Python joke here) she looks like, and the moment I thought of that given Alyss being a very religious character, everything just completely fell into place
(Fun fact: Years ago when I was into imagining what kind of Personas my characters would have, Alyss’ was supposed to be Agustina de Aragon, Spanish folk heroine who is drawn with a big hecking cannon. It all comes full circle.)
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(Inquisitor from DFO, danbooru link warning)
The Inquisitor would be all of Alyss’ self-depreciation and anxieties that she isn’t good enough at...well, anything. Mostly not being a good enough person or Christian. It’s not like she resents her faith, but she absolutely does feel like she’s been put under a microscope her whole life and she needs to scrutinize her every action as to whether it is moral or not. Chalk it up to her emotional nature and sensitivities that take her every action as reflecting on her moral character. A mistake or a failure to do “the right thing” isn’t just one bad act - it’s a stain on her very identity as someone who professes to follow God. Or a good daughter. Or a good friend. A good person.
Of course, this is a self-inflicted wound in many ways. She hates being criticized, and the expectation to always be ‘good’ or following the standards of what makes a moral religious person causes a lot of guilt in her when she does wrong, or anxiety that she might do wrong. A lot of what I imagined about The Inquisitor isn’t just the religious motif, but the motif of fear and punishment. The Judge and Executioner who instills the fear of God in sinners. A horribly apt symbol, imo, of what anxiety feels like, of that looming darkness that constantly beats down on you. The voice that says “this is ABSOLUTELY a terrible idea” even before you take a step.
Heck for extra factor on the monster of fear part, throw in the white eyes on a completely shadowed face a la Scarecrow from the later Batman TAS episodes
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(this is the least disturbing picture I could find of him)
All these fear motifs are, of course, painfully ironic when you consider that not only this image is Alyss’ exaggerated idea of her faith, it’s also 100% contradictory of what her faith truly stands for. What she herself has constantly told others. That God isn’t an angry God who judges sinners, but a gentle one who forgives, and justifies not by adherence to laws, but faith in a greater power. In fact, the power that forgives and lets people not be punished for what they deserve.
And though this is a totally cheesy idea...I would like to imagine if you face the Inquisitor in a dungeon, in like a medieval-style execution grounds, you would see those crumbling old walls with broken carvings that have the words “Condemnation in Christ” on them, and then noticing the walls were broken, you’d eventually find the missing half of the wall which must be attached before the initial wall, with the words, “There is No”
Look, I’ve already spilled my guts out with this “I have a friend”-type post, I can afford to be cringe about something that means a lot to me
Especially since...it’s very obviously been weighing on my mind a lot lately
No matter whether Alyss Baraen thinks herself a “witch” or feels tormented by an “Inquisitor” the root cause is still the same - she fears that she isn’t worthy or that God possibly is angry at her for whatever sin or failure to be human/good she’s committed. And despite her own beliefs, or the love and support of others, being a clear evidence to the contrary, she finds it hard to trust that that love is real.
Many times, it’s terrifying to trust people you love, or to have any hope at all. Because what if you’re disappointed? Worse, what if you’re just plain wrong? You could say to yourself how much good you’ve done or how much people clearly love and care for you, and have it still mean absolutely nothing. Because the evidence for your imperfection, the world’s imperfection, and the hurts you bear feel so much more real than the idea that you might deserve happiness.
And the more you think that way, the more you inevitably project that idea onto a higher power, like God. Because how could it be true that He offers you all things for nothing? Less than nothing - you’re a “terrible person” who deserves to be punished, and yet He isn’t. In fact, He’s saying all’s good, you just need to do better and keep loving and trusting Him, and He’ll do the rest.
Without any obvious proof, except the life you’ve already lived, and the words He’s said.
A tall order to believe in, isn’t it?
Trust is never easy, and in fact, often seems far less logical than just continuing to remain on guard, always.
To believe in there being good and kindness in your future often seems too good to be true. And soon we start to believe it can never be true.
So I’ve spent a long time rejecting any kind of grace or kindness because I’ve convinced myself there’s no way it’s true. The truth, to me, had to be a harsh revelation of my inherent sinfulness and failure to follow God. Those were obvious ‘proofs’ in my life, after all. It could be nothing else. If I received a kind word, I must have been selfishly trying to avert my eyes from the truth, to what I wanted to hear.
But, you know.
That wasn’t the truth at all.
In my heart of hearts, I KNEW it wasn’t.
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Well, no one ever said Faith was easy.
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tramontane-fire · 1 year
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shitty triggering food/body/ed talk
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sideeve · 4 months
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⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”
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﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru
﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban
﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well
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GOJO SATORU (3 days)
“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.
"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.
it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.
“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.
RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)
no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.
“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.
one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.
how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.
he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.
KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)
his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.
due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.
"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.
he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.
"seems like i have some things to make up for."
CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)
"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.
"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.
"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.
"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.
TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)
"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.
you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.
"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.
he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.
GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)
you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.
he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.
"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.
"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.
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sapsolais · 2 months
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halcyonmachines · 7 months
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dude it's so crazy how pervasive the "fat liberation" movement has become in progressive spaces. i'm so glad i got to overcome it and deconstruct the rhetoric i was presented with for yearssssssssssssssssss. because it was literally fueling and normalizing my disordered eating in a way i can only imagine would be eerily similar to proana shit if my issues landed on the opposite side of that spectrum
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wolfiesmoon · 4 months
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When you wear their clothes
genshin men x gn!reader
characters featured: xiao, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli and itto
i've been dreaming about genshin a lot lately idk this game has possesed me or smth so i feel like i'm required to write this? Also DAMN im rusty with genshin characters so i apologise profusely for any ooc-ness
(also wrio's is kinda suggestive!!)
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XIAO is confused. Why on earth are you wearing his clothes? He isn't opposed to it specifically, but doesn't understand the appeal or the reason why you do it. "My clothes don't fit you properly. What's the point?" he asks, completely straight faced. You smile. "It reminds me of you when you're not with me!" He just scoffs and says he doesn't get your strange habits before moving on with his day. Somehow though, the image of you in his clothes won't leave his mind for the rest of the day. "Dammit..." he mumbles under his breath, barely audible when nobody's around. Don't bring up his pink cheeks in the evening when he comes back to see you, he will not elaborate.
Similarly, NEUVILLETTE is also confused. This must be another human thing that he isn't familiar with. What does wearing their lover's clothes mean to humans? "Oh, I just missed you... your clothes remind me of you, you know?" You explained when he questioned you on the matter. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want more items related to myself for when I am absent?" He asks. While you do want to know what items he would bring you, you turn him down. "I like your shirts the most, because they smell like you and feel like your hugs." He doesn't know why exactly, but he has the urge to kiss you all of a sudden.
WRIOTHESLEY feels distracted when he sees you in his clothes from time to time. He gets busy a lot, so the moments he gets to spend with you feel extra special. But, what is he to do when you look so positively yummy in his shirt? "Hey, mind taking my shirt off? It's... sort of distracting." he admits, taking a sip of his tea. "But, wouldn't it be even more distracting if I took it off now?" you asked, feigning an innocent look. He almost spit out his tea. "I did not mean it like that...! Surely you're just teasing me." You just smiled mischeviously in response, taking a sip out of your own cup. "That's what I thought. I know that look."
ZHONGLI thinks you look odd in his clothes. Odd, but not bad by any means. You actually look quite endearing. "I'll make sure to commit this to memory." he says calmly, sitting down next to you on the bed. "You say that every time you're with me." you poke his shoulder gently, smiling up at him. "That's because everything about you is worth remembering, I suppose." Still, he thinks this specific memory is one he will treasure for a long, long time. "Oh my..." you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at his words, hugging his arm. Actually, he changed his mind, you're positively adorable in his clothes.
You're basically asking to get attacked with a flurry of kisses if you wear ITTO'S clothes in front of him. That's like, a show of affection! That you're totally his and no one else's! And that also means it's a cause for celebration! "Agh, Itto- Stop!" you try and fail to push his face away. "Hehehe..." he gives you a bright smile and places a big ol' kiss on your lips. "You should wear my clothes more often!!!" he felt proud of himself, puffing out his chest. "Ummm, whatever you say..." you're kind of worried that if you do that, your face will never escape his lips.
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