a / n : as always, minor and ageless blogs dni — I always write with black and brown feminines in mind, but I purposefully try not to describe reader too much. Mention of reader in a dress, but it's only mentioned in dialogue once at the end. This is short anyway.
You approach him. Says he's handsome, and that he looks like a charming guy. He is a charming guy. One who wants to sink his fingers into the fat of your hips.
He didn't realize he was so approachable even now, when all he'd come to do was wait. Maybe you were just confident. He doesn't mind that at all. You ask him to dance with you and he, a dog on a leash, follows you to the floor. He's nervous for the first time in a long time. Incredibly nervous because he isn't leading—this is one of the very first times he wasn't leading. And he's.. sweating. The club, it's hot, but that's not why he's sweating.
He's sweating because your plush body is pressed up against him in a way he can't quite process. Hasn't felt a body this plush in his lifetime. Not like he hadn't had his experiences, he's just never had you. You melt into his body perfectly and he feels all of you all at once. Warm and soft and romance personified and fuck, his palms are sweating. He grabs your hips and prays you don't notice.
You do, to his horror. And you fucking giggle, gazing up at him with the air of an amused god—the hot club gets cold when you laugh. Not scarily cold but refreshingly cold. Like a spring breeze slamming into him full force, coiling around him, seducing him—
"Are—" you can't even get it out in full, you're holding onto his forearms, your giggles slip into cackles. "Are you trying to dry your hands on my dress?"
Robert can't get it up. He's tried and he just...it won't work. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you, love sex with you and making you feel good. He doesn't mind using toys and teasing you for squirming. He doesn't mind how wet you get while he stays soft and dry in his boxers. Doesn't mind how you plea and beg on silicone instead of him.
But sometimes, after you've cum and you're so creamy that you're leaking out in milky white drips, he imagines it's his. All of his. Breeding you deep inside. Dripping out of your sore hole as you pant and whimper. Fingers pushing it back in swirling it around. Rubbing it between his fingers and lapping it up with his tongue.
In those moments he really wishes he could pop a boner.
Every single one of the 599 refugees the US admitted last month was a white South African, according to data the State Department’s Bureau of Population released Friday.
In fact, so was every other refugee admitted this year. Since October 1, 2025, the US has accepted 6,668 refugees. Of those, 6,665 were white South Africans. Three—admitted last November—were from Afghanistan. No other refugees were admitted.
And this is only half the story. They are also revoking the legal status of existing immigrants granted protected status due to fleeing dangerous conditions in their home countries… and let’s look at which countries they are:
Since Inauguration Day, more than 1.5 million immigrants have either lost or will lose their temporary legal status, including their work au
Let's be honest, Waterboy is a virgin. How would his first time go? Nothing extreme, just soft exploration of each other. He would be so flustered, having to show how he likes to be touched, attention all over him for the first time ever. Bonus if reader is an assertive soft domme that praises him a lot and comforts his insecurities 💖
mdni + ageless dni
contains : smut, first time, licking stuff, hyperspermia if you squint, sub! herman, hand stuff, fucked up formatting because tumblr hates black people, no use of "Y/N", reader isn't described, no p in v for accessibility, porn no plot, soft dom! reader, praise
𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬
Your tongue on his damp skin was like a flame even he couldn't douse. It was all so much at once—especially for someone with so little experience. It was exciting, though. Being with you.
A little too exciting, maybe. Tremors wracked his entire body so fiercely that one could believe he'd been electrocuted. Must be nerves, he thinks. Anxiety so strong—too strong for his body to handle, that it manifested itself physically, demanding to be heard.
He feels your lips against his cheek after a while, and then there's this emptiness, almost. A lack of warmth on his chest where your mouth had been. It's as if you'd slowed down and pulled away from him.
And he hates that feeling of absence. He wants you to come back, to put your lips back on his skin and devour him so sweetly like you'd been doing before. He kind of likes how it feels to be so anxious that he shakes, so excited that his nerves turn to live wire in his body and make everything hypersensitive.
"Herm."
He can only let out a soft hum in response, chest still heaving from the heady make out—the taste of your mouth still flooding his senses.
"You're shaking, baby."
His brows pinch as he noticeably tries to still his shaking hands, but the attempt is in vain. The anxiety persists, as do his tremors, despite his efforts.
"O-—oh I'm s—sorry, I don't—know—why? I can't... won't stop–"
A gentle kiss to his knuckles has him shutting his mouth and letting out a shaky sigh as his eyes finally find you. You're nearly bare, and so soft and warm and god—the way you look at him, it's feels like...whatever it's like to know peace. Like a sense of calm that was much to difficult to achieve in his day to day.
"You know we don't have to do anything," You say. And of course you'd say that.
"I—well—-"
"We can stop and just cuddle if you want to."
No, no, no, no, nonononono. Never stop. Your lips on his body forever and ever and ever—
"I... know. I just—don't.. wa-want to... to stop, but..."
His adams apple bobs as he swallows down the terror that was clawing its way up his throat. How embarrassing it was to have to communicate in such a vulnerable state of mind and body.
"I'm... gonna be.. I'm not... A-and I don't want to be a dis—to disappoint—you."
You watch his face flush and fall, those big, grey baby doll eyes doing their best to keep you out of their line of vision. But gentle hands guide his face back to center and you kiss him slow and sweet and so, so deep that it has his head reeling.
"You could never."
The words are mumbled against his lips in a way that sends shivers up his spine. He quite liked how your lips felt on his, how your skin was warm beneath his palms, the weight of you atop him reassuring. This didn't need to be as serious as his brain was telling him to make it—this could just be you, and him, spending time together in a safe environment where he didn't need to feel judged.
Herman lets out a shuddering breath he didn't know he was holding as he relished in the feeling of your fingertips gliding over his length. There was nothing to be so anxious about. You were good to him, he was good to you. You both were safe and you loved each other—
"O—oh go-–d-"
He whimpers when you finally do palm him without the obstruction of underwear. Full on keens and grips your wrist with both, now only slightly shaky, hands. You think, maybe, that he changed his mind and would like for you to stop. You expect him to pull away and nearly make the mistake of retreating on your own.
But then you feel him, weakly grinding up into your palm, huffing and whimpering as his hips jerked in a manner that was clearly involuntary.
He's. . . so wet. That was a given, obviously, of course he'd be wet. But he was slick and sticky with precum and the steady flow was not showing any signs of stopping. You couldn't lie to yourself, it was devastating. The lost look on his face as he slow blinked and whined and fucked up into your fist without any grace or rhythm. How one of his hands strayed, slipping quietly into your underwear in an attempt to please you. Felt like he didn't know what to do but his body was telling him, screaming at him to make you feel good too.
With his brows pinched, he found your eyes again, still rutting up into your grip. He looked pathetic. And it was glorious.
It's nearly impossible to drag your gaze from the pearly white globs running down his shaft. Something disgusting inside of you was screaming at you to lick it up and shove your tongue down his throat so he could taste himself.
You don't, but you put a pin in that idea to ask him about later. Whenever you do manage to tear your eyes away though, you're rewarded with the glorious sight that is Herman pouting and huffing and whining from the pleasure.
"Like that?" You'd ask, and he'd nod, letting out a sinful sound when you'd stopped in your tracks, only holding him there.
"You have to use your words, sweetheart,"
And he nearly cries, sucking in a breath, nodding desperately as he spilled over your fingers and onto the sheets,
"Y—es, like . . like that. I want–-I like it like that."
Your lip catches between your teeth as you pump him through it, hips rolling into his hand to meet his own ministrations,
"Such a good boy."
tag for the goat : @patheticwhitemenlover
a / n pt. 2 : sorry I took so god damn long, I didn't want to write this for a while. Not that I didn't like the idea, I just didn't know what to write so I just didn't. But now I have! Hope you're still active whoever you are ^^!!!
Never getting answers to mobile formatting questions will forever piss me off. What the fuck happened. Do I have too much text? Is that why it's ugly now? Where are the answers? Why can't I google how to fix this????? Are we keeping secrets?????????
the desire to pretend white women are simply always victims and groomed into fascist movements instead of being willing participants is by design, u have been taught ur entire life that white women are dainty angels that have to be lead and protected and no harm they do is fault of their own, thats why u think literal nazi women are just confused harmless babies, it’s designed that way on purpose
Bitch I almost had a panic attack, I saved a request from 2025 that I've been working on to drafts and it VANISHED because I have like 69 drafts in that mf—IT WAS HIDING UNDER A GAZ ONESHOT I almost threw up
Staring at my mutuals posts about other fandoms I'm not involved like "I don't know what any of those words are, but imma still run you a like & a reblog cuz u my dawg"
Imagining that he acquires some feelings he doesn't quite understand about Reader, and starts imagining things about them, and has moments where he zones out. Spends minutes at a time just daydreaming of laying his head on top of them, between them, holding them, kissing them, sucking bruises into them, gently sinking his teeth into them—his gaze practically burning a hole through Reader's shirt.
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romaincrisis
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