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#but is about them. and their lives and interiorities

hobbitsetal · 1 year

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The reason you're getting this ask, is you're one of the Christians that's made me feel like you listen and actually consider other perspectives

I saw a thing that amounted to "If you're feeling down just remember that there's a great God who loves you", and the people who always say stuff like this... I just wish for one day they'd consider if there wasn't, what would you do then?

When I say consider there's no God for just one day, I don't mean in the sense of faith. I don't mean stop believing for a day. I just mean... for just one day consider what it means if there's no one above, there's no great plan, when the suffering cry out in anguish there's no one coming to save or redeem them

For just one day we're alone on this earth, and every hungry mouth, every suicide, every sick and broken person here has no great reward waiting for them. They're just hurting and it means nothing

For just one day I want them to ask themselves what they'll do if there's no help coming. Do they abandon their fellows to their fate? Or do they step in and help? Do they offer hollow words to those in agony? Or do they offer a hand?

Just once I'd like not a crisis of faith, but a simple accounting of what the world looks like if they were wrong and there's no God to back up their platitudes

Because forgive the presumption of an agnostic, but perhaps God's hope would be to offer acts of service and not just words

If you look out at the world and say that without God it's empty and barren, what will you do? Leave it desolate while basking in God's light to make it right for you? Or do you work the world till there's truly a bounty there for all, for the followers and the lost alike?

Anyway... I hope you're having a good day. I hope your family is having a good day. I hope everyone's happy and healthy

I just get a little tired of it all sometimes and wanted to share it with someone. Me, I haven't seen God yet. I look out and I see a lot of pain, and I'm just one very small person without much influence or skills. Still, I try to fix up things around me so I have more to give, try to lend a hand the rare times I can, at the very least lend an ear since I'm able to do that a bit more often

I'm not much good at much of anything, but I'd still like to help how I can, when I can

Honestly? What an excellent question. And what a fantastic challenge.

Whether there is or isn't a God, how do we live? Christians would say how we live is influenced by our belief in whether God exists or not, but what do we do to prove that? How do we relate to others? How do our decisions and actions demonstrate that we truly do believe in a Higher Power to Whom we are accountable for our actions?

And, to repeat your questions, how would we act differently if we knew for a fact there is no God?

#James 2:14-19 is one of my favorite passages #applicable to this conversation but I didn't want to derail the thought experiment #if there is no God how does that change how we live #I think for me personally I would still help people and want to understand them #but removing the hope of eternity and of a physical resurrection?#that would take away some hope #and yet at the same time #this life is all I know and tangible results are all I know #and I love tangible results #give money to a friend: bam! they can pay rent or get surgery or what have you #have people over for dinner: voila they enjoy a meal and company #talk someone through their brain worms: they have tools to make their life a little easier #the practical is hugely important to me #so in that sense #if I believed for one day there were no God #I don't think it would change too much about how I live #it would just change my interior hopes

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mcmansionhell · 3 months

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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven

Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.

The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.

It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.

And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.

Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.

A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.

Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.

At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.

And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

#architecture #design #mcmansion #mcmansions #ugly houses #interior design #bad architecture

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gandalfsbignaturals · 9 months

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i wish ppl on this website, and within leftist circles in general, were a little less gung ho about making jokes or statements like "billionaires arent people" "nazis arent people" "police arent people"

there is no level of evil where a human stops being a human. if you decide to kill them for their crimes, then you are killing a human. and sometimes that is justified! oil execs and war profiteers have destroyed countless lives in service of their own sick greed, and given the chance to enact that same violence on them, id probably pop their heads like a pimple.

but it is important that we do not shy away from the reality of that choice. it is a human life that is being ended. a person with interiority, feelings, family.

if we stop considering any group as people, even a group defined by their own evil actions, then we are drawing a line to divide society into persons and non-persons, and stating that those non-persons do not deserve to live.

i hope i dont need to explain why that is a dangerous position to take.

these people and all of their evil, their greed, their hatred, are just as much a part of humanity as art, culture, language, food. they are a part of us that has grown malignant and cancerous, and like a cancer, they must be excised for the sake of the whole--but they are still a part of us, made of the same stuff as us, down to their cores.

evil humans are still humans.

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theivorybilledwoodpecker · 1 year

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For people who live in the U.S., November can bring to mind a lot of things, and one of them is Thanksgiving. This can be a complicated holiday because while most people just see it as an excuse to get together with friends and family and pig out, we all know that the story of the "First Thanksgiving" is bullshit.

This November, and for as long as it takes, I'm asking you to keep Native American and Alaska Native rights in mind and to fight for them. ICWA, the Indian Child Welfare Act, is at risk.

This act was created to stop cultural genocide. Until the late 1900s, Native American and Alaska Native children were routinely kidnapped and placed in residential schools and white families, where they faced abuse, forced assimilation, and sometimes murder. ICWA was passed in 1978 to stop this by allowing tribes to control the foster and adoption placement of Native American and Alaska Native children.

However, today, the SCOTUS started hearing arguments in a case that could overturn ICWA. This would not only endanger children and allow cultural genocide, but it would endanger tribal sovereignty since it would deny sovereign tribes the rights over the placement of their own children.

This November, this Thanksgiving, and until ICWA has been upheld, I ask you to stand up for the rights of Native Americans and Alaska Natives.

Spread the word about what is happening. Don't let this get swept under the rug. Post about it. Tell your friends and family.

Sign petitions.

Write to representatives.

Reach out to local tribes to see what you can do to help.

Protest.

And if you can afford to do so, donate to Native American and Alaska Native organizations.

#ICWA #indigenous rights #native americans #alaska natives #indian child welfare act #Thanksgiving #Signal boost #Boost the signal

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pucksandpower · 23 days

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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soup-mother · 5 months

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in the same vein as that last post about cottagecore and American colonialism, there's this incredibly pervasive attitude in Australia that "everyone (settlers) live on the coast and noone (important) lives in the interior", so you get genius ideas like "let's divert a river and flood central Australia for farmland!" and "lets sell of huge swathes of land to mining companies" like people haven't been living there about longer than anywhere else on earth. it ties into the colonial view of deserts and lack of care for ecosystems but it's genuinely such a mainstream idea that noone lives there and it's just going to waste, terra nullius still alive and well unfortunately.

diversity win this gay coloniser wants to "move into the bush" with their fifteen cats they let run wild and will go straight to the governor general if someone shoots them for being invasive. this sure doesn't look like the frontier wars! it's cottagecore!

#my post #Australia #auspol #colonialism #go move into a bushfire zone and don't manage it properly dumbass

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dollwrites · 6 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

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tarotwithavi · 6 months

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Venus in houses

Venus signifies love, beauty, relationships, art, aesthetics, and harmony in astrology. It also represents how we express affection and what we're attracted to.

These post are general and won't resonate 100% because we have to consider other aspects too.

For entertainment purposes only!

Venus in the 1st house

People with Venus in the 1st house tend to be naturally charming and attractive. They have a friendly, approachable vibe that draws others in. People often find them physically appealing, even if they're not aware of it. These individuals have a certain grace and poise about them. They carry themselves with elegance and may have a good sense of fashion and style. They know how to make a positive first impression. Venus represents beauty, and when it's in the 1st house, these folks have a deep appreciation for all things beautiful. They may have a keen interest in art, fashion, or design. Socializing comes naturally to them. They enjoy being around people and are often the life of the party. They make friends easily and can adapt to different social situations with ease. Relationships play a significant role in their lives. They are often focused on creating harmonious and loving connections with others. They may fall in love quickly and enjoy the romantic aspects of life. In conversations, they tend to be diplomatic and tactful. They have a way of saying things that doesn't ruffle feathers, which makes them excellent mediators in conflicts. People with Venus in the 1st house are generally well-liked and popular. They have a magnetic quality that draws others to them, and they can often get what they want through their charm and charisma. Many of them have artistic talents, whether it's in music, visual arts, or any other creative endeavor. They may find joy and fulfillment in expressing themselves artistically. On the downside, they may have a tendency to indulge themselves a bit too much. This could manifest in overeating, overspending, or other forms of self-gratification. They often have strong preferences when it comes to aesthetics. They know what they like and don't like, whether it's in their home decor, clothing, or personal grooming. They value harmony and balance in their lives. Disruptions or conflicts can be particularly distressing for them, and they may go to great lengths to restore peace. Their personal values are very important to them. They are likely to stand up for what they believe in, and they seek partners and friends who share similar values.

Venus in the 2nd house

Having Venus here often means you appreciate the finer things in life. You might have a knack for making money and enjoy spending it on beautiful stuff – whether it's a fancy car, a stylish wardrobe, or a cozy home. You're likely drawn to luxurious and high-quality items. Quality over quantity is your mantra. You'd rather have one exquisite piece than a bunch of cheap stuff. Venus in the 2nd house can bring a touch of charm and grace to your financial dealings. People might find it hard to say no to you when you're asking for a loan or negotiating a deal. Your values play a significant role in your relationships. You're attracted to partners who share your values, especially when it comes to money and possessions. Harmony in these areas is important to you. You tend to be generous with your loved ones, showering them with gifts and treats. It's your way of showing affection. You usually have a good sense of how to manage your money. Financial stability is essential for your peace of mind, and you work to achieve it. Venus also rules beauty and art, so you might have a keen eye for design and aesthetics. You could excel in professions related to art, fashion, or interior decorating.You find pleasure in the sensory experiences of life – good food, beautiful surroundings, and physical comfort. This can also extend to your romantic life, where physical intimacy is essential. if Venus isn't well-aspected here, it could lead to overindulgence in spending or a tendency to be materialistic. Be mindful of not equating your self-worth with your possessions.

Venus in the 3rd house

Venus in the 3rd house blesses you with a silver tongue. You have a natural charm in the way you speak and interact with others. Your words are like sweet melodies, making it easy for you to connect with people on a personal level. You're a great conversationalist and can easily win people over with your pleasant demeanor. Venus is the planet of beauty and creativity, and in the 3rd house, it infuses your communication with a touch of artistry. You may have a talent for writing, public speaking, or storytelling. Your creative ideas flow effortlessly into your conversations, making them engaging and memorable. You're socially adept and thrive on building relationships with those in your immediate environment. This placement often indicates a strong bond with siblings, making you a friendly and supportive sibling or enjoying close relationships with your brothers and sisters. You may also have a knack for forming close friendships with your neighbors or people you encounter in your day-to-day life. Venus in the 3rd house can make you a lifelong learner. You have a curiosity about the world and a love for acquiring knowledge, especially in subjects related to art, culture, and aesthetics. This placement can encourage you to pursue studies or hobbies that involve beauty, such as literature, music, or the visual arts. While you're charming, your interactions with others may sometimes be perceived as flirtatious, even if that's not your intention. You enjoy the playful side of communication and may engage in witty banter or playful teasing. This can make you quite popular and fun to be around. In relationships, you express your affection through words and gestures. Love letters, sweet text messages, and small romantic surprises come naturally to you. You appreciate the beauty of love and use your communication skills to strengthen your romantic connections. Your relationship with siblings tends to be harmonious and supportive. You're there for them when they need you, and you bring a sense of ease and understanding to your family dynamics. The 3rd house also relates to short journeys. With Venus here, you may have a fondness for weekend getaways, road trips, or other short adventures, often with loved ones.

Venus in the 4th house

You find a deep sense of emotional security and comfort within the confines of your home and family. There's a strong need for a harmonious and loving domestic environment. You have a strong attachment to your home and might enjoy decorating and making it aesthetically pleasing. Your home is often a place of comfort, love, and artistic expression. Family plays a significant role in your life. You may have a close and loving relationship with your family members, particularly your mother or maternal figures. You attach sentimental value to family heirlooms, traditions, and memories. Your family's history and heritage are important to you. Your approach to love and relationships is nurturing and caring. You may express love through taking care of your loved ones, especially within the home environment. You seek a harmonious and peaceful home life, and you might go to great lengths to maintain a loving atmosphere. You enjoy entertaining at home and often find happiness in hosting gatherings. Venus in the 4th house can grant a good sense of style and design for home decoration. You may enjoy collecting art, antiques, or items of beauty for your living space. Your early childhood experiences, especially in your family, can strongly influence your attitudes and behaviors in love and relationships as an adult. There can be a strong interest in real estate, and you might invest in properties or find a career related to homes and interior design. Striving for balance and emotional security is crucial for your happiness. You seek relationships that provide a sense of comfort and emotional well-being.

Venus in the 5th house

With Venus in the 5th house, you have a magnetic charm that makes you naturally attractive and romantic. You seek love and pleasure in creative and playful ways. You enjoy the excitement of romance, and your relationships tend to be passionate and full of affection. This placement enhances your artistic and creative abilities. You may have a talent for music, art, or any form of self-expression. You find joy and fulfillment in creative pursuits and often use them as a means of showcasing your love and affection. Your inner child is very much alive, and you enjoy fun and playfulness. You may have a special connection with children and might excel in roles involving teaching or working with young people. Your love life often resembles a romantic fairy tale. You have a love for entertainment, whether it's through the arts, sports, or other leisure activities. You enjoy the finer things in life and are willing to invest in experiences that bring pleasure and luxury. Your charm and charisma are accentuated, making you a natural flirt. You tend to be social and love attention, often becoming the center of attraction in social settings. This can be a positive trait in your love life and personal relationships. You may be more willing to take risks in matters of the heart. This can lead to exciting and passionate relationships, but it may also involve some ups and downs. Love and creativity often go hand in hand for you, and you're not afraid to pursue your passions. If you become a parent, your love for children will shine through. You're likely to be a warm, affectionate, and creative parent who encourages your children to explore their own creative talents. Venus in the 5th house can bring out your dramatic side. You enjoy being in the spotlight and expressing yourself with flair, whether on stage or in everyday life. You may have a wide range of hobbies and interests that allow you to express your creativity and love. Your interests can become a big part of your identity and how you attract and connect with others.

Venus in the 6th house

You have a natural flair for bringing beauty and creativity into your job. You tend to enjoy work that involves art, aesthetics, or social interactions. You are likely to be diplomatic and pleasant in your interactions with colleagues and clients, making you a valuable team member. Venus in the 6th house often bestows good physical health. You are inclined to take care of your body and may be drawn to activities like yoga or other forms of exercise that are not only beneficial but enjoyable too.You are charming and diplomatic in your interactions with co-workers. This can create a harmonious work environment, but be cautious of overindulgence in office gossip or drama This placement can signify a love for helping others. You may be drawn to careers in healthcare, social work, or any field that involves assisting and nurturing people. You have a strong need for beauty and aesthetics in your daily life. You might decorate your workspace, have a well-organized and visually pleasing schedule, and appreciate the finer things in your daily routines. Your creative talents can be expressed through your work. You may find ways to infuse artistry into even the most mundane tasks, making your daily routines more enjoyable and fulfilling.Be cautious about romantic involvements in the workplace, as Venus in the 6th house can lead to romantic attractions with colleagues. It's essential to maintain professionalism in such situations. You may struggle to find a balance between work and personal life, as you can become so absorbed in your job or daily tasks that you forget to take breaks for self-care and enjoyment.

Venus in the 7th house

Venus in the 7th house indicates a deep need for harmonious relationships. You are drawn to partners who are attractive, charming, and cultured. You seek equilibrium and balance in your partnerships and may avoid conflict whenever possible. You have a natural ability to attract people and form meaningful connections. You may be seen as diplomatic, charming, and well-liked in social situations. Your charisma can be a significant asset in your personal and professional life.This placement often signifies a strong desire for committed and long-lasting partnerships. You are likely to value the institution of marriage and may dream of a fairy-tale romance. Venus in the 7th house can enhance your artistic and creative talents, as the 7th house represents partnerships, and Venus is the planet of aesthetics. You might find artistic expression through collaboration or partnerships. You have a refined sense of beauty and may be drawn to artistic or visually appealing partners. You appreciate art, fashion, and all things aesthetically pleasing. In your relationships, you tend to be diplomatic and value compromise. You may go to great lengths to maintain peace and harmony, sometimes at the cost of expressing your true feelings. This placement can influence not only your personal relationships but also your business partnerships. You're likely to have a good sense of business and can form lucrative partnerships, particularly in ventures related to beauty, art, or design. While Venus in the 7th house brings a lot of positive attributes, there can be challenges too. You may struggle with being overly dependent on your partner for emotional well-being, and at times, you might fear being alone. People with Venus in the 7th house often attract love into their lives. However, the challenge lies in maintaining that love over the long term, as you may idealize your partners. Your ability to negotiate and find common ground with others is a significant strength. You're skilled at resolving conflicts peacefully.

Venus in the 8th house

You possess an intense and deep emotional nature. Your feelings are not superficial; they run profound and can often be veiled, even to yourself. In your romantic relationships, you seek deep, passionate, and transformative connections. You're drawn to intense, soulful bonds with your partners. Your desires and pleasures are deeply rooted in the physical realm. Sensuality plays a significant role in your life, and you may have strong sexual appetites. The 8th house is also associated with shared resources and joint finances. You may have financial dealings with others, such as business partnerships or shared assets with a spouse. Venus in the 8th house can give you a magnetic and alluring presence. People may be naturally drawn to you because of your intense charm and charisma. You are inclined towards personal transformation and growth. You're not afraid to confront the darker aspects of life and explore the mysteries of the human psyche. You take your relationships seriously and are willing to invest a lot of emotional energy into them. Loyalty is crucial to you, and you may have a tendency to hold onto relationships longer than most. Financially, you may experience highs and lows. Joint financial matters can be a source of both gain and loss. It's essential to be cautious in financial partnerships. The 8th house is associated with the occult, mysteries, and hidden knowledge. You might have a natural inclination towards astrology, tarot, or other mystical subjects. Venus in the 8th house can also lead to a desire for control in relationships and financial matters. You may find it challenging to trust others completely. Your love life is often transformative. Relationships have the power to change you, and you may go through periods of intense emotional growth and change through love. On the downside, you might struggle with jealousy and possessiveness in relationships. It's important to work on trust and open communication. Venus adds an element of grace and elegance to your personality. You have a refined taste and may enjoy indulging in luxurious and beautiful things.

Venus in the 9th house

You possess a deep love for exploring new horizons, whether through travel, higher education, or spiritual pursuits. The desire to expand your worldview through these means is a significant part of your life.Venus brings harmony to your beliefs and values. You seek a sense of unity and may find beauty in various cultural, philosophical, or religious traditions. This placement often indicates a person with a more liberal and open-minded approach to different belief systems. You're attracted to intellectual and philosophical subjects. Learning is not just a duty but a pleasure for you. You may excel in fields related to higher education, publishing, or teaching. Venus in the 9th house encourages an appreciation for art, culture, and aesthetics from around the world. You might have a love for foreign languages, literature, or art. In relationships, you may be drawn to partners from diverse cultural or educational backgrounds. Romantic relationships often have a touch of adventure and exploration. Travel can be a source of pleasure and learning for you. You may have the opportunity to travel for pleasure and education. These experiences can be pivotal in your personal growth. Your ability to express your beliefs is marked by diplomacy and charm. You can discuss sensitive topics without causing offense and might even be a mediator in philosophical or religious debates. You seek deeper, spiritual truths and might explore various belief systems to find your own path. This placement often indicates a person on a lifelong journey of self-discovery. Your sense of aesthetics is influenced by your exposure to different cultures. You appreciate the beauty in diversity and may incorporate elements of various cultures into your personal style or home decor. At times, your strong desire for expansion and exploration can make you restless or commitment-averse in relationships. You may need to find a balance between your love for freedom and the stability of a long-term partnership.

Venus in the 10th house

You are likely to be quite focused on your career and public image. Venus in the 10th house suggests that you have a strong desire for success and recognition in your chosen field. You're drawn to professions that involve art, beauty, fashion, design, or anything that allows you to express your creative and aesthetic talents. You possess a natural charm and diplomacy that makes you adept at dealing with people in authority. This can be a valuable asset in your professional life, as you have the ability to network, negotiate, and create positive relationships with influential individuals. You have a refined sense of aesthetics, which can be applied to your career choices. Whether you are an artist, a fashion designer, or even in a corporate setting, you appreciate beauty and elegance. This can help you stand out in your profession. Your public image is important to you, and you are often seen as someone with a strong sense of style and grace. People may view you as a tastemaker or a person who embodies the ideal of beauty and harmony. Venus in the 10th house can also indicate an interest in social standing and a desire to be associated with those in higher social strata. You may feel comfortable in elite social circles and aspire to climb the social ladder. You tend to approach authority figures with diplomacy and grace. This can help you navigate your way through the corporate world or other hierarchical structures with finesse. There can be a connection between your career and your relationships. You may meet significant others through your professional endeavors or choose a partner who is supportive of your career goals. Careers in public relations, marketing, or any field that involves presenting an appealing public image may be particularly suitable for you. Your ability to make things look good is a valuable skill. You are likely to gain popularity and recognition in your career, which is influenced by your charm and your ability to win people over. However, be mindful of balancing your personal and professional life. With Venus in the 10th house, there can be a tendency to prioritize your career at the expense of your personal relationships, so it's important to find equilibrium.

Venus in the 11th house

Venus in the 11th house is like a social magnet. People with this placement often have a natural charm and are well-liked by their friends and acquaintances. They're the ones who make social gatherings more enjoyable. This placement fosters strong and meaningful friendships. Venus encourages harmonious connections, and in the 11th house, it means you're likely to have a wide circle of friends who genuinely care about you. The 11th house is associated with social causes and humanitarian efforts. With Venus here, you might be drawn to charity work or other activities that promote social well-being. Venus in the 11th house makes you great at networking. You easily connect with people who can help you professionally and personally, which can be a significant asset in your career. You're a team player by nature. Collaboration and group activities bring you joy, and you're likely to excel in team-based projects. You might find yourself involved in social or community events, and people often look up to you as a popular figure. Your charisma and appeal can lead to a high level of popularity. In matters of love, you're an idealist. You seek a partner who not only shares your goals and dreams but also someone who is your best friend. Your love life is often intertwined with your social circles. This placement can also bring creative friends into your life. You're drawn to artistic, musical, or creative individuals who inspire you. On the flip side, there can be a tendency to keep some emotional distance from friends. You might appear more aloof than you actually are, which could be misunderstood by some. The 11th house represents your hopes and dreams. With Venus here, you're likely to have artistic and aesthetic aspirations. You may want to make the world a more beautiful place. Venus is linked to money, and in the 11th house, it can bring financial opportunities through your network and friends. Your social connections might play a role in your financial success.

Venus in the 12th house

This placement often indicates secret or clandestine love affairs. You might find yourself drawn to relationships that aren't out in the open, maybe due to societal or personal reasons. You've got a vivid imagination and a strong creative streak. This could manifest in artistic talents or a penchant for daydreaming. You tend to keep your emotions hidden, even from yourself. It can take a while for you to truly understand what you want and need in love and relationships. The 12th house is about self-sacrifice, and with Venus here, you might find yourself giving a lot in your relationships, sometimes to the detriment of your own needs. You have a deep well of compassion and empathy for others. You might be drawn to help those who are less fortunate or in need. Venus in the 12th can inspire artistic pursuits in seclusion. You might excel in creative fields where you can work behind the scenes. This placement can also indicate a strong connection between love and spirituality. You might seek a partner who shares your spiritual beliefs or find love in places of worship. On the flip side, relationships can be a source of inner turmoil. You might attract partners who are emotionally complex or who bring hidden issues to the surface. Your idea of romance can be dreamy and idealistic. You might have high expectations in love and may need to learn to balance these with reality. The 12th house is often associated with past life issues and karma. You might feel a strong karmic connection with some of your partners. Privacy is essential to you when it comes to love. You might not be one to flaunt your relationships on social media or in public. Your desires in love can be somewhat unconscious, and you may not always understand why you're attracted to certain people or situations.

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hellenhighwater · 5 months

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What's your decision making process like for thrifting pieces? I've started looking at thrifting more earnestly, and at antiques in particular to add a bit more character to my otherwise midcentury-influenced space, but I always struggle with envisioning if a piece will "go" with everything else. But you seem like you've got the mixing and matching of pieces down pat, do I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I've gotten a bunch of asks in this vein so I'm going to go a little broader than this ask to cover the general topic.

On a purely practical level, you need to know what you have. I keep what I call a house journal, which is a notebook where I've drawn out room layouts, with measurements for available space, lists of what I'm looking for, dimensions for things like doorways (do not buy anything larger than your doorways) and even fabric and paint swatches. I also keep a digital photo album of house pictures, so if I'm trying to see if something will go, I don't have to rely entirely on memory.

So, important note: my background is not in interior design--it's in set design, studio art, and graphic design, so for me, I fall back on narrative. When you're designing interior spaces for theater or film, the room is not primarily functional: it is, first and foremost, an extension of the character that inhabits it. The room exists to tell you about the person in it.

And often, that's the tack I take in my house--not using my home as a framing device for myself, but for imagined characters. For example, my living room is The Adventurer, or the Archaeologist. The character for that room is someone from decent money in the late Victorian period, the sort of person who spent their live traveling for no particular reason, and brought home all manner of oddities. The room is rich in color and texture; the furniture is mostly late 1800s, and it's both formal and lived in. Choosing things for this room, I ask if that character would own that object. I also used unifying wood tones, and a similar depth of color, to tie things in. Pick a color palette and stick to it.

My drawing room is the Alchemist. There are lots of celestial elements, but it's a workroom, so most of the furniture is very practical and simply designed. It's beaten and worn in, showing marks of use. There is lots of storage, and curious little things in jars, and plants and bones and the tools of my trade. The Alchemist uses this space to make impossible things.

The question then is not "does this match" but "would the character that embodies this space choose this? Why? What does it say about them?"

And what all of that tells you about me, is, well....I don't know, really?

#hellen highwater's house of horrors #this is just what I do

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greyhoundone · 5 months

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Some things I found interesting from Rachel Talalay's live commentary of Heaven Sent at Chicago TARDIS:

- The story was originally set in a haunted house with weeping angels.

- Sometimes a single line would be shot across a mix of three locations: two actual castles and a set.

- The script was clear that the castle should have no interior lighting except for the fireplace where The Doctor dries their clothes. Rachel got some pushback from the crew on a shaft of light coming at an angle from outside, asking where the light came from. Her response was, "It doesn't have to come from anywhere. It comes from 'It looks good.'"

- Rachel worked to give more of a horror vibe to certain scenes. She did things like add a spooky wind, have Peter play the tone more for horror, and even consult with Murray Gold to keep the tone consistent. She also pushed for a “creepy garden” as opposed to the formal garden Moffat had scripted.

- Jenna wasn’t available for most of the shots where Clara is writing on the TARDIS chalkboards. They originally used a double, but the double was too obviously not Jenna. It was actually the person who did the colour grading who found other usable shots of Jenna from behind and put them in the final episode.

- Everyone was very worried about Peter hurting his hand punching the wall, especially since he had hurt his hand punching the TARDIS console in "Death in Heaven." They were going to have Peter just fake the punch and get a stunt person for close-ups, but Peter insisted on doing the punches himself because of the importance of the moment for his character. Rachel agreed on the condition that, "If you hurt yourself, you're the one who tells your wife." (He did not hurt himself again.)

- When the Doctor burns themselves and their hand dissolves away to nothing, the hand was sculpted out of Lush bath bombs. Rachel had the idea and suggested it as a cost-effective solution. So they just sculpted Peter's hand out of bath bombs and poured some water on it.

- When the Doctor breaks through the wall and the Veil collapses, the collapse was achieved by filling the Veil costume with helium balloons and then popping them.

#Doctor Who #Heaven Sent #Rachel Talalay #Chicago TARDIS #Peter Capaldi #Steven Moffat #New Who #Twelve #Twelfth Doctor #The Doctor #The Veil #Doctor Who behind the scenes #Dr. Who #Doctor Who cast #Doctor Who conventions #Jenna Coleman #Clara Oswald

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rinhaler · 5 months

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Yooo, your plug!sukuna x reader fic has got me so feral imgggg

And it got me thinking

imagine Yuuji and Sukuna double teaming you???

this is not canon buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut... it is hot so hope u like this hehe

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest (itadori bro's sharing u), double penetration (one hole), degradation, praise, cheating mention, bruising, hair pulling, oral fixation, daddy kink mention, spanking, squirting, creampie.

words: 1.1k

“B-Baby I- fuck. How could y-ou? Fuck him of all- all people?” Yuuji wonders, fingers gripping into your sides deeply. You’re bound to bruise. With the way he’s fucking you and squeezing into your supple flesh, you can practically feel the broken blood vessels forming purple blooms with every thrust into your squelching cunt.

It isn’t deliberate.

He just wants you to remember who you belong to.

“’m sorry!” you cry, tears pelting down onto the mattress below as he batters your interior again and again. “I didn’t mean t’ fuck him.. I didn’t—!”

“Aht aht. None of that,” Sukuna speaks, his fingers lacing through your hair and yanking enough to elicit a pained yelp from you. Your eyes shimmer as you they reflect the stare of red irises that have become so easy to manipulate you. “Wasn’t like that when you were crying for me to ruin you, was it? In fact…” he pulls out his phone and quickly finds the home made sex tape he’d made without asking.

“D-Don’t…” you sob, though you don’t have it in you to really fight him. He pushes his thumb by the seam of your lips in a bid to shut you up. And in your cock drunk, dazed state, you begin to suck like a baby with a pacifier. You clench around Yuuji as the video begins to play and you hear how loud you’re moaning for your boyfriend’s elder brother. The sex was phenomenal and you’ll never forget it for as long as you live. “Remember this? Hm?” he questions as he swipes to a certain point of the video.

“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.”

You scream, a trail of drool connecting his thumb to your tongue as you can’t help yourself when Yuuji spanks your ass. He’s seen it before, of course, but it doesn’t make it any easier. God you sound desperate, and in that moment, you were.

“Think it’s okay to f-fuck my brother? Huh? You were meant to say no.” he reminds you. He pulls your back into his chest and holds each of your wrists in his hands and keeps them near the small of your back. And he uses them, for leverage, as he fucks his length into your weeping slit. “Beggin’ for him to bruise your cervix like that? Had no idea what a little slut you were. You want him to fuck you again, don’t you?”

“N-No!” you lie. You’d love Sukuna to ravage you again. To make a complete mess of your insides and churn your brain into mush. You don’t want to think about anything but getting destroyed by him and Yuuji.

You feel so spoilt.

Sukuna doesn’t say a word as he gets closer to you. His length runs through your folds and nudges your clit as Yuuji keeps you pinned in place. Your face twinkles as the light reflects off of your tear stricken cheeks.

Yuuji slows down as Sukuna helps you angle your hips.

Though you aren’t sure how it’s only just dawning on you now what is happening.

Sukuna’s heavy mushroom tip begins to split your cunt further open. Each yelp and cry silenced by Yuuji as he smothers your mouth and whispers into your ear.

“Shhhh, baby, you can take him. You’ve done it before, yeah? Good girl, sh sh sh…” he consoles you. His hands grope your tits and his lips smother your neck and shoulder in soft kisses as he tries to distract you from the stinging stretch being inflicted upon you. “That’s it… good fucking girl… you can take us both, yeah? You wan’ us to fuck you stupid, yeah?”

You hum, unsure if you’re agreeing or not. Nothing is really making sense when all you can focus on is the fact you’re somehow accommodating two Itadori cocks at once.

“Look at you… elastic little cunt.” Sukuna snarls, laughing as he drinks in the sight of you being double stuffed like a porn star. He grabs his phone, taking a quick picture so that Yuuji can see the view he’s seeing.

“Woah… you’re so good, baby. Takin’ us so well.” he praises, kissing the skin behind your ear before slowly rolling his hips again.

“Don’t fucking praise her yet, haven’t even moved.” Sukuna starts, his hips begin to move too. Their thrusts are off beat and your heart begins to pound. You aren’t getting a break to get used to the feeling. The tempo of their mismatched thrusts has your vision whiting out. Your head lolls backwards onto Yuuji’s shoulder as they continue to ruin you, and you swear you can’t breathe.

You aren’t sure if you’re even there.

“M-Maybe we should slow down,” Yuuji tells Sukuna, his hips already slowing before he finishes his sentence.

“Fuck that.” Sukuna grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. Drool spills from your lips and your eyes can’t focus. But he knows you’re listening and he knows you’re looking. You’re in there somewhere, enjoying this. “We already know you’re a whore so don’t act shy now.”

“’m g’na c-um.” you manage to squeak out even in your dazed state. “H-aah!” you struggle, but your pussy does all the talking for you. The sound of liquid spilling out of you is deafening. The suctioning and squelching sounds that follow are just as boisterous as they continue to pound into you. And just as you think your high is drawing to a close, their sloppy thrusts pick up the pace.

Another stream of liquid gushes from your cunt as they abuse your sweet spot in independently. Your head falls forward onto Sukuna’s chest, now. And he uncharacteristically cradles the crown of your head as you rest there.

Yuuji lets go of the singular wrist he’s still holding so he can focus on fucking into you. And he does, loudly. His moans are raucous as he empties his balls into your greedy hole.

Sukuna soon follows, hissing through his teeth as he spills his seed soon after his brother. None of you want to move, least of all you. You’re still clenching around them both while you rest against Sukuna’s chest. Yuuji begins to kiss at your shoulder, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are. And you shudder when his kisses trail down the column of your spine.

The elder brother is silent as he pants, stroking your hair repeatedly as he contemplates what just happened. But he hurriedly moves his hand away when he sees Yuuji look up at him.

“Knew she could take us,” he smirks. “Your girlfriend’s a perfect little whore.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw:incest #tw degradation #tw praise #tw cheating #tw hair pulling

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