#and he hasn't even met her yet

[moe-broey]

I think they're really cute as a platonic possibly even found family pairing, but. A Reminder

[july-19th-club]

tonight we watched episodes 5 and 6: she has changed her tune on silver, instead repeatedly saying "he is such a character" from various angles whenever he is on screen. loves how fake he behaves and the fact that there's nothing behind it but the ability to be really good at being fake. INCREDIBLY busted up over billy but also said 'you wouldn't talk about how much you love these episodes if he had actually died' . prescient of her. for the first time i noticed a part of the bryson/guthrie betrayal that i never had before, which makes mr scott's presence in the hold make more sense. ella very stymied and upset over scott's tangled web of loyalties, and all i could tell her was that he has more interests on the islands than eleanor and that all would become clear in time. watching this time i thought about his cold-blooded arithmetic in refusing so many times to help emi and the other captives, weighing the lessened chance of his family's discovery against his potentially lifelong enslavement. and then helping her anyway because she reminds him, probably, too much of his daughter.

[wayfinderships]

Decided to rewatch more I.nuyasha tonight and THERE'S THE BASTARD (Affectionate)

[sonicprim3d]

Anonymous asked: Surge doesn't like you, it seems

" It's the strangest one-sided beef I've ever been in. Cuz like. I don't even really know who she is. "

[eluvianarts]

A little Doctor Who / Dragon Age crossover again. 💙💙 

[sophieswundergarten]

I would like to commend Rhonda for joining Mr. Benedict in the first place. Now, this is not to judge any of the characters, but, imagine, that you are a young orphan who has just been through several levels of an extremely weird test, only to find out they were designed by Some Guy and his adopted daughter who is a bit older than you but extremely blunt and intense (And possibly a random guy who looks like he could maybe be trustworthy or maybe mug you in a dark alley but overwhelmingly looks incredibly sad that is just s t a n d i n g t h e r e, depending on the time frame), and then all the "adults" in this situation (Or, at least, older and hopefully more knowledgable than you) tell you that the world is going to be taken over by some ambiguous entity who is using the radio to brainwash people.

Think about this.

I know that the kids had to do it, too, but when Rhonda joined, the Benedicts weren't an actual team yet. They were still in the beginning stages, with less experience and less information than by the time Reynie and the others show up. Can you imagine if they had Number Two run the cheating trick during the first tests? And if this was before Milligan arrived, then either she or Mr. Benedict would be running everything on their own, so, a lot less smoothly, and I bet less of the children respected her when she was closer to their ages. Mr. Benedict likely wouldn't have been able to kick all the kids out of the test, once they started crying and things. Why do you think it was Number Two and Milligan's job?

Like, the Mr. Benedict and co. that Rhonda had to make the decision to trust were a lot less trustworthy-seeming than the one we meet. So, good job to her for seeing them for who they were, instead of being freaked out by their strangeness.

[fazcinatingblog]

Why is there a random guy doing that shaka hand gesture, only in Hawaii amirite

[goldennika]

i get triggered whenever i see my friend's boyfriend bc he reminds me so much of this guy who once tried to ask me out and made me feel uncomfortable bc he still kept trying to talk to me even after i said i wasn't interested

[seonghwasblr]

I have like 350 pages left of this book, and I feel like it will definitely ruin me emotionally

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[frecklystars]

I love to imagine all of my Ryan F/Os sitting in a little room in my head and chilling out and hanging out with each other. Even the ones I haven't "met" yet (movies I haven't seen but will eventually)

You know that meme from the office "I love inside jokes. Would love to be a part of one someday"? Well it's Holland March and Jacob Palmer being impatient for me to finally enter their universe. "We love our girlfriend Keri. Would love to actually meet her someday"

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[the-velvet-worm]

the love triangle in TLT is so funny because it's not even a true love triangle. it's like a shape that hasn't even been invented yet. first you've got Ianthe, who thinks Harrow is totally into her but isn't. and Harrow is into Gideon but also this really sexy corpse. the sexy corpse was maybe probably in a relationship with Gideon's dad who's also the leader of the solar system. he hooks up with his officers sometimes and has hooked up with his best friends over the last 10,000 years because they were bored. Ianthe also has this weirdly borderline incestuous relationship with Coronabeth but Coronabeth is in love with Judith who had a crush on her now-dead cavalier. the only ones who've got a semi-normal relationship are Camilla and Palamedes and even then they had a weird poly thing with Dulcinea even though they never met her in person. and they have another weird poly thing with Pyrrha but by that point they're sharing a body. then they decide to do a mutual suicide/soul binding ritual and become a whole new person in Camilla's body. also they're second cousins. oh Pyrrha also had a weird poly thing with her necro and Gideon's biomom/the leader of the rebellion who's fighting against Gideon's biodad. I don't even have time to unpack all that and that doesn't even cover half of the shit happening here. there's also the whole Cytherea thing

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[thefallofruins]

── “Inconvenience” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Request — I love love love love love your fav concubine/queen stories with sukuna 😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️ can I request a story where for the concubine rides sukuna's tummy tongue until he's completely satisfied , like edge play/multiple orgasm or pregnant sex where the queen is really needy and horny for her husband after he has spent so much time outside.

A/N — hi nonnie, tysm for requesting <3 hope you don't mind, but I went with preggo sex cuz I'm not comfy writing fics with his belly mouth involved yet, so I'm really sorry. Hope you enjoy this though.

Warnings — pregnant sex, praise, creampie, nipple play, true form! Sukuna Minors DNI

"S'kuna, missed you so much..." you mumble softly, face buried in his chest. He was met by such an adorable sight the moment he returned— his adorable, pretty lil wifey with a small yet visible baby bump rushing to greet him and capturing him in a hug. He chuckles, patting your head softly.

"That so? just how much did you miss me, my Queen?" he places a finger beneath your chin, gently nudging you to look up at him. One of his other hands are placed on your hip, his thumb tracing your slightly swollen belly.

"Too much, Sukuna..." you reply with a frown. Your hormones were driving you mad. Carrying the child of the king of curses wasn't easy, your needs increased phenomenally. You needed Sukuna more than ever, you needed him to be by your side, saying soft and comforting things to you, reminding you of how good you are, how proud he is of you for carrying his little heir.

He chuckles again, a hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Well, I'll have to apologise to my Queen for causing her such inconvenience, no?"

"You better," you pout, tiptoeing in an attempt to get a kiss. He smiles and pulls you close, bending a bit to give you a well-deserved kiss. You whimper softly as he bites your lower lip, his tongue swirling around yours, driving you crazy. You needed him so, so, so bad.

He parts, allowing you your oxygen, a thumb tracing your lower, swollen lips slightly. Goodness, you had gotten so beautiful with his heir growing in you. A hand traces the line of your back, causing shivers to run down your spine, "My beautiful queen..."

A short gasp escapes you as his fingers finds your loosely tied obi— untying it in a single moment. Your kimono loosely falls at your sides, and Sukuna gently places you back on your bed where you lay resting before his return. He presses a few kisses on the soft skin of your neck, relishing your scent— one he had to unwillingly part from for a few days.

"Magnificent..." he mutters, trailing kisses before stopping at the swell of your breasts, which had swollen significantly thanks to the pregnancy. He chuckles darkly, cupping your sore tit with one hand, making you whine softly before his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking deviously on the sore skin.

"N–Ngh...S'kuna..." you let out a soft moan, fingers tugging on his pink hair slightly as you feel the wetness grow between your thighs. You rub your legs together to soothe the growing ache. Sukuna, noticing soon, parts from your nipple with a smile, a string of saliva dissolving as he does.

"Feeling needy, are we?" he speaks, his finger reaching below to trace your dripping folds from over the cloth. "Ah...so needy, my queen." he chuckles, feeling the wetness grow and watching you squirm, eyes pleading him to continue.

"Speak, my Queen..." he smirks, teasing you by torturously tracing his finger up and down, finding your sensitive clit. You're a mess and he hasn't even begun yet.

"S-Sukuna–ah, please!" the plea escapes your lips, "N-Need you," you say in a raspy voice. The hormones had gotten you so needy and sensitive for him. He chuckles, the no-good panties ripped off from you in an instant, revealing your glistening cunt.

"How cute." he smirks, beginning to undress himself, the kimono falling off his body, the silk material falling of his body. You eye your husband with your needy eyes— making quite a cute sight for his. He reveals his cock– veiny, throbbing, pre-cum dripping down from his tip. Such a sight could make you drool on spot...

"Ready, my Queen?" he asks, a smile on his lips as he rubs the tip against your puffy lips. You give him a weak nod, as he prods his cock into your entrance, making you gasp at the sensation of his girth slowly filling up your tight entrance. "S-Sukuna!"

He enters your heat fully, making you feel every inch of him, and added your grown sensitivity from your hormones— every push, every pull, every caress on your skin, it drove you crazy. "O-Oh, Sukuna-Ah!" you moan, wrapping your hands weakly around his neck.

He begins to rock his thick length in and out of your tight cunt, which welcomed it warmly, squeezing around it everytime. He groans, feeling the slick coat his cock, feeling the warmth of your sweet cunt tightening around him, leaning down to kiss you and leave your lips swollen, feeling your round tits bounce up and down with each thrust against his chest.

"Cum for me, my precious..." he grunts, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him a bit more, knowing you're nearing your sweet release. "Mnhh...S'kuna!!" you moan out loudly, a clear liquid gushing over his cock as your walls clamp around him, your head buried in the crook of his neck, making him grin merrily.

A few more thrusts, and he finds himself close to release too, he grunts audibly before emptying his seed into you. A soft whine escapes your lips as you feel the warm sticky liquid fill you up, feeling more sensitive than ever. He pulls out, looking at his cum gush out of your cunt slowly, proud of the mess he created.

His eyes shift back at your tired form, and he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, gently brushing the strands of your hair from my face before he grins at you, "Hope that was enough to make up for the inconvenience caused."

You, through heavy breaths, manage to give him a soft and sweet smile, "Will do..."

He smiles at your response, laying himself beside you, kissing your forehead softly. His fingers gently traces the swell of your belly. "You did well, my love..." he says softly, allowing you to rest as you cuddle up to him.

A hand rests on your head and the other on your belly, he's enthralled by the fact that there's a tiny version of him on the way. And you're the one who's giving him this blessing. His precious queen.

"I'm so proud of you," he mutters softly, kissing the top of your head. That's the last thing you hear before slipping into sleep's sweet embrace.

[eyesxxyou]

sweet revenge

・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 1.3k

synopsis. after catching your boyfriend cheating, you and his father, Logan, go on a road trip to confront him, though, you don't make it far

warnings. p-in-v, tummy bulging, cheating (but as payback), DILF Logan, car sex, van sex, sex with boyfriend's father, cunilingus, kinda rushed :((

If someone told you you’d be trapped in a car with your neglectful boyfriend’s father for an entire weekend as you drive to meet him in Mexico a week ago, you would have stared at them blankly then told them that didn't sound so out of the ordinary for a life like yours.

It wasn't your idea, it was Logan's, your boyfriend's father. He insisted that you two would have to drive across the US together to confront your disgusting, cheating, asshole boyfriend who flew to Mexico to spend time with his mistress. He was almost as disgusted as you were, apologizing to you with explanations of how “he hadn't raised his boy like this”. How funny life is.

Logan, you always thought, was a good man. He had always been kind to you since you’ve known him, sometimes to the point where you thought he was flirting with you. Not that you minded, he was quite handsome, even for being in his 50s. With his salt and pepper beard and slight wrinkles that made him look mature and wise. You never minded his slight touches on your arm or your lower back but you never pursued the idea beyond a lingering thought.

“I’m slightly surprised you’re not crying.” Logan said about an hour into your ride together. You had been entirely silent, letting the radio play while you gazed longingly out of the window, your feet up on the dashboard. You rolled your head to the side to look at him. “I’m more angry than sad.” Or were you? You searched within the cavity of your chest for emotion and found nothing. You were so apathetic to the whole thing. Maybe it simply hasn't hit you yet, that your boyfriend of 3 years has been cheating on you for 2 of them with some girl he decided to vacation with in Mexico.

Logan stroked his fingers through his beard. “He’s a fucking idiot. His mother was a cheater too, I say he got it from her.” Your boyfriend was raised primarily by his mother after they had gotten divorced he had told you. He wasn't actually all that close with Logan. You had sussed out that it was because he didn't give special treatment between him and his sister, Laura. They were treated the same in every way by Logan while his mother always seemed to favor him.

“Thank you, Mr. Howlett for offering to bring me down here…really. It’s too kind of you.” You couldn't have possibly scrounge up enough money to haphazardly buy a plane ticket down to Cancun last minute. You would have had to wait for him to come back from his “business trip” to confront him. Logan thought it a better idea to do it as soon as possible.

He shrugged, a single hand on the wheel as his eyes flicked lightly from the road to you. “It’s nothing. He doesn't deserve a pretty girl like you.” Logan shook his head lightly. “Back in my day, I would have been all over a girl like you. Hell, I’d be all over you now if I’d met you at the right time.”

There's something deadly serious in his voice that suggests he was far from joking. All your delusional thoughts that maybe, just maybe, he was flirting with you turned out to not be delusions at all. He’s been dropping hints and you’d been turning a blind eye to them so willingly.

You’ve never been with a man his age. Something about it seemed so taboo. He was old enough to be your father. Yet the distinct feel of forbiddenness, both because of his age and because he was your boyfriend's father, excited you.

“Who says you can't be all over me now?” You’re being more bold than you’d have liked. You crossed your ankles on the dash. It would be the perfect revenge. When he goes low, you go lower—you go to Hell.

You let your hand wander to his thigh, your eyes lingering on him as he keeps glancing between you and the road. Logan chuckled lowly at you, your forward attempts at coming onto him were rather cute. “Oh baby, you don't know what you’re tryna get yourself into.” He’s trying to warn you but you like the edge to his tone.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up in your seat to lean over and whisper into his ear. “Let me find out.” Maybe older men do it better, maybe they value things a little more. You were in the mood to find out.

You could see his jaw tighten as he slowed the car off the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires. His fingers curled around the wheel, taut, knuckles white. “Why don't you get in the back?”

If someone told you you’d be in the back of a van, on you way to confront your cheating, sleazebag boyfriend, fucking his dad. That…that you’d bat an eye at.

It was a fast-paced endeavor. Logan had you in a mating press, pushed up against the back seats. Your pants and underwear at your knees, his pants just below his ass. He’s pounding you out in the back of a van, with thrust so hard and deep that it makes your eyes go cross. You beg, “please, please, puh-please!” like that will save you from the brutalization of your poor cunt.

Logan grunts above you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he spreads them wide and keeps you still. “You wanted this, princess. Don’t back out now.” His strokes leave you winded, clawing at the cracked leather seat of his van, squealing like you have no damn sense in the world. “I can’t,” you gasp.

“Yes you can, doll. You can take it.” Fuck– he was using his father voice. Stern, authoritative, the kind of voice you can’t say no to. You could have come right then and there from his voice alone, cooing at your pretty pussy like a cat. He pressed his hips sharply into yours and watched your back arch away from the seats and your eyes prick with tears. “Logan!”

“You act like you’ve never been fucked before. Does my son not do a good job?”

You shook your head feverishly. “Never– ” you swallowed, “–like this.” Never made you cum for that matter. If you knew fucking your boyfriend's father would have been like this, you would have done this a whole lot sooner.

You could feel him in your stomach. You pressed your hand to your belly and felt the bulge of his cock under your skin. You whimpered at the feeling, tracing where his cock head poked through. You could feel him pressing against your tender womb.

You let Logan cum in you. It was easy to with a face like his. You let him sink himself deep inside, a guttural groan rattling out from his throat, satisfied as he emptied his balls inside you. You could help but giggle as he came in you. The thought of possibly having his baby didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Logan was a good man, well, as good as one can be while fucking his son’s girlfriend.

Logan didn't want to leave you unsatisfied though you were more than used to it. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up, back arching as he dipped down and kissed your cum-soaked pussy. His tongue found your clit with ease, licking tenderly at the bud between your legs, eyes peering over your pelvis, looking down at you.

Your legs trembled over his shoulder, toes pointing with each rough lick against your puffy pussy. “‘s too much, too much.” His lips were latched to your lips, suckling.

Cumming on his tongue was an easy job. He made it so simple yet so powerful. You quivered under every lick, your body rolling with the waves of your orgasm. It was sweet, savory, like tender peaches on a warm, summer evening.

Who knew revenge could taste so sweet?