#and saw they made another post that said something to the effect of

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[melminli]

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

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There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about three years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back.“ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

next.

[hiddenlife-manager]

you should totally write a one shot about ollie bearman x reader celebrating the jeddah gp (smut)

Oliver Bearman x Fem Reader

cw... blowjob, jerking him off, whimpering ollie, slight sub ollie, slight dom reader, best friends, plot, etc...

notepad... WELL I finally finished this there are a lot of errors but oh well. I have been stuck on this for a while so thank god it is done. Amen to me hehe.

You two were sitting on the floor of his room; it was an abnormally big room. He was used to small hotel rooms, yet here you two were eating at a coffee table on the floor since you refused to sit on a chair. His hands rested on his neck as he felt nothing but pure soreness from the race. He acted like it didn’t bother him during his post-interviews; it was clear he was worn down from the race.

“If you are sore, you should lay down on the bed.” You were calmly speaking to him, eating Dajaj Mashwi with manakeesh, as it was what he ordered. It seemed to be his favorite meal here; you were unsure if you were supposed to eat it with manakeesh. "Besides, having to face an average of 4.5 g per turn is difficult on the neck. Saudi Arabia is considered a hard circuit to race in Formula 1. You should rest.”

“I should eat… ugh.” His deep voice stated that he was trying to eat, but it was clear that he struggled to move his body. He was extremely sore; you saw this and crawled to him on all fours. The sight of you crawling toward him made his face suddenly go red. You were breathtaking to him, but he knew it was wrong to think so.

"Here, let me help.” You offered, you brought food to his mouth, and he was left in shock that you were trying to feed him. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I'm your best friend; this is the least I can do. Consider it a gesture of congratulations.” He couldn’t help but hold a rosiness to his cheek, as you wanted to feed him. He opened his mouth and looked at you. He noticed your breast slightly peeking out of your top, and he gulped with food in his mouth. He suddenly choked and coughed, and you were shocked. “How do you choke so easily?” You handed him a bottle of water while he coughed.

“I d-don’t” He stuttered out and sipped the water. He looked at you and went back to the food. Why was he holding such feelings for you right now? You two should be celebrating his debut, and yet here he was nervous, unable to look you in the eye. “My neck is just sore.”

“Hmm, okay. Are you sure it is just your neck that has you all worked up?” He tried to crawl away from you casually so you wouldn’t notice his awkwardness. As he used his hands to scoot away from you, he realized how much it hurt. 

“Did you hear a knock at the door?” He attempted to distract you from seeing his boner in his pants. You turned your head, and as you did, his hands flew, grabbing onto a pillow and placing it on his lap. You shook your head, sure that you didn’t hear a knock. “I guess my head is playing games with me.” He laughed awkwardly, his hands at the collar of his shirt, pulling it a bit as the pillow continued to sit on his lap. 

"Oh, really, are you okay? Let me check your temperature.” You got closer and leaned toward him with your hand, and his face got redder. “You are red as a tomato.” You state that right as you were about to land your hand on his forehead, he shifted. You fell on top of him. The moment you did, you felt something poking at your ass. 

“Mhm…” You froze, and that was the moment your face got super hot. 

“I am so sorry.” You said you tried to crawl off his lap and managed to pull another moan out of him. You were hot; the sound was so sudden, and you were unaware that you had that effect on him. 

“No, it's my fault.” He tried to hide his red face, and you were hot to the touch. Staring at your best friend, you realized he had some sort of attraction to you. He shifted uncomfortably, and you wanted to help, maybe out of your own disgusting fantasy or maybe to show him it wasn’t wrong.

“I can help.” He suddenly fell back as he was scooting away. He started to stutter. You crawled to him and placed your hands on his jeans. You always told him to wear better pants. “Is it okay if I can?” He was silent for a bit while you froze, waiting for his response, and in a few seconds, he nodded sheepishly, unable to look you in the eye. 

You unzipped his pants, your hands working quick wonders; it was no secret you knew what to do. At the same time, you two were grown adults with significant others. You gulped as you moved his cock to the side of his boxers through the hole. He was hard, and it was very evident. Ollie was trying so hard to hold back small whimpers of pleasure as your cold hands touched his bare cock. 

“Can I?” He nodded quickly, and you began to go up and down his cock, using his pre-cum to slightly get his cock a bit moist. After you went up and down from the base, you gently spit on his cock and smiled up at him. Your mouth got close, and you licked the tip as you heard him moan and slightly shifted away from the pleasure. He was embarrassed but wanted you to continue. 

“You can put it in your mouth.” He whimpered out, and all you did was smile so much as you opened your mouth and let him inside your mouth only a little at a time as you went up and down, inching his cock slowly down your throat. The view left Ollie winded; he thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist, and you were his best friend. 

Slowly but surely, you began to suck at his cock, your tongue swirling around it as you saw and heard him whimpering. Attempting not to put his hands on you. He was unsure what to do with his hands, as he almost had to put them anywhere but you. Sucking him while bobbing your head up and down, you used your free hand and grabbed it, holding it as you continued to pleasure him. He was clearly nervous, and you knew he needed comfort. The feeling in your mouth was becoming too much. 

He began to thrust up into your mouth; doing so, he ended up thrusting into the back of your throat, causing you to gag, and he began to get nervous, but you shook your head and continued to swirl your tongue and go up and down. As you removed yourself from his cock, a pop could be heard, and you let go of his hand, staring up at him. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and pumped him. 

“You can cum on my face, Ollie; I don't mind.” You said it softly, with a smile brighter than the sun staring right at him. He was weak and could barely utter a word, but he wanted so badly to cough. His cock thrust into your hands as they felt so perfect. All he did was hum with a whimpering undertone. You continued to go up and down with your hands, quickening the pace as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. 

“Ah, close, too close." He moaned out, and right when he let the last moan out, a long whimper could be heard, and white strings up and down hit your face and tongue. You didn’t stop pumping his cock; his body tensed while he was cumming. You were smiling and licking at the tip of his cock. 

“Congratulations in Saudi Arabia; a gift to you from me, Ollie.”

[meazalykov]

yapper

barca femeni x reader

part one - part two here

summary: you always had something to say

warnings: angst, online hate

you've always been the one to fill the quiet. 

if the locker room was silent, you’d throw out a joke. sometimes so bad it would have everyone laughing just because of how ridiculous it was. your teammates loved you for it—or at least you thought they did. 

you didn’t want anyone to sit in nervous energy before a big game. you wanted everyone to feel at ease, to smile, to believe they could take on anything since this was literally barcelona– of course the best club in the world could handle anything. 

“why are you so loud?” mapi teased one day after you cracked a pun about her tattoos during a media day. 

you grinned at her. 

“because someone has to keep this team awake. what would you do without me? shit, i don’t know how you survived without me for long.”

“probably enjoy the peace and quiet,” she shot back, but the grin on her face told you otherwise. 

you knew mapi got all the credit for being the talker of the group, but you easily topped her in that department. kika often joked that you had a built-in microphone, always on and ready to broadcast. 

yet, despite all the jokes, you never felt like it was too much. not until recently. 

training sessions at barça were something you relished, even on your worst days. being surrounded by alexia, kika, and esmee—your closest friends on the team—always made it feel less like work. 

alexia was like a big sister, always ready to listen. kika was your partner-in-crime, teasing you relentlessly, but never crossing the line. esmee? she was your rock, her quiet presence balanced your constant energy, grounding you in ways you didn’t think anyone could. 

after a long training session one evening, you found yourself alone on the practice pitch. penalties were your weak spot, and you wanted to fix that. you lined up the ball, took a deep breath, and sent it toward the net. it hit the post.

“what are you doing here so late?” alexia’s voice startled you.

you jumped, clutching your chest dramatically. 

“you scared me! i could’ve died.”

she smirked, arms crossed as she walked closer. 

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“what are you doing here?” you tried to deflect.

“i asked first.”

rolling your eyes, you motioned to the ball. 

“penalties. i suck at them.”

alexia raised a brow. 

“you’re not even one of the main takers.”

“exactly! that’s why i suck! i need to be better in case i ever have to take one, you know what if you frido or ewa are not available?” you rambled, launching into an explanation of all the ways penalties terrified you. 

alexia didn’t interrupt, just watched you with that calm, almost maternal expression she always had. 

“you’re overthinking it,” she finally said, cutting through your spiral. 

“just keep practicing. you’ll be fine.”

her reassurance helped more than you wanted to admit. alexia had that effect on people, like she could carry all your worries on her shoulders and not even flinch. 

a few days later, you stopped by esmee’s apartment, where she was curled up on the couch with her girlfriend, dani. the sight of them together tugged at something in your chest, a reminder of what you used to have with emily. 

“finally over her,” you announced as you plopped down beside them, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on esmee’s lap. 

“who?” danielle asked, clearly out of the loop. 

“emily,” esmee filled in. “her ex.”

“oh, good for you,” danielle said with a smile through her dutch accent. 

“it’s about time, right?”

you laughed, nodding. 

“yeah, it only took me almost a year.”

however, later that week, you saw something that made your chest tighten all over again. scrolling through instagram, you stumbled upon a photo of emily with another girl, their smiles wide and carefree in north london. 

it shouldn’t have mattered. you were over the woman three years your senior. however, it stung in a way you didn’t expect. 

then came the champions league quarterfinal against bayern munich. the mistake was small—a misplaced pass, a missed mark—but pernille made you pay for it with a screamer that tied the game. 

1-1. 

after the game, you did your best to shake it off, smiling for the cameras, joking with alexia and frido. you thought you’d done well hiding your disappointment. 

the internet didn’t let it slide. 

“y/n talks too much. maybe she should focus on her game instead.”

“doesn’t she get tired of hearing her own voice?”

“the team probably wishes she’d shut up for once.”

the comments were harsh, cruel, and loud in your mind. you tried to brush them off, but the words stuck, clinging to you like thorns. 

the next day at training, you were different. quieter. focused. when kika asked if you were okay, you only nodded, too afraid that anything you said might annoy someone. 

“you sure?” she pressed.

you nodded again, forcing a small smile. 

“weird,” she muttered under her breath, walking away. 

alexia and aitana exchanged glances, both noticing the shift. esmee tried to pull you into a conversation during a water break, but you only offered short replies, your usual energy gone. 

that night in the locker room, after everyone else had left, you stayed behind, the weight of it all finally crashing down on you. in the showers, the tears came hard and fast, your shoulders shaking as you tried to keep quiet. 

though the locker room echoed, and when you emerged, changed and ready to leave, alexia, kika, esmee, and ellie were waiting for you. 

“we heard you crying,” kika said softly, her eyes full of concern. 

“what’s going on?”

you hesitated, swallowing hard. 

“nothing.”

“don’t lie,” alexia said, her voice gentle but firm. 

“i don’t…” you trailed off, taking a deep breath. 

“i don’t want to annoy you guys.”

they all looked at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“annoy us?” esmee asked, incredulous. 

“i talk too much. i saw what people were saying online, and… maybe they’re right.”

“y/n,” alexia started, stepping closer. 

“we love you. all of us. you make this team better, not worse.”

“you think we don’t look forward to hearing your ridiculous jokes every day?” kika added, her tone light but sincere. 

“you’re the reason we laugh half the time.”

“is that mistake against bayern bothering you?” ellie chimed in. “it happens to everyone. it doesn’t define you.”

their words broke through the wall you’d built, and before you knew it, they were pulling you into a group hug. 

“promise us you won’t let those comments get to you again,” alexia said, her hand on your shoulder. 

you nodded, sniffling. 

“i promise.”

“good,” kika said, grinning. 

“now, what were you going to say about the athletic club match?”

and just like that, you found yourself rambling again. they listened, laughing and teasing you like always, reminding you that this was where you belonged. 

part two here

[prettycoolgirl]

young rich & in love

pairing: dbf!logan howlett x f!reader. summary: sunday night football with your dad and logan, who knows what’s gonna happen... a/n: hey, my comeback has arrived!! i haven't posted fanfic on here in sooooooo long but hopefully, this makes up for it, i've had this idea in my head for weeks and finally decided to write it (saveeee me old man logan). please lemme know if i made any errors i hateee proofreading 😭 tyyy <33 also feel free to send me concepts!  warnings: 18+, smut ofc, age gap (reader is in her 20s). implied panty stealing. oral (m receiving). small daddy kink? definitely more warnings… word count: 2.7k 

It was your Father's and Logan's daily Sunday routine of watching football games together yet today was different. You walked past the living room and saw Logan sitting on the couch, with a beer in his hand, eyes focused on the screen as he watched the game. Your dad was in the kitchen getting snacks and a couple of more Coors, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Logan caught you just in time and smiled, his eyes lingering on you. "Hey, why don’t you come and watch the game with us," he said.

 “As much as I would love to hear you and my dad constantly screaming at the TV, I can’t I gotta get ready for my date tonight with Jacob, sorry” you smiled slightly. Quickly Logan's smile faded at the mention of your date. He tried to hide it, but you could still see a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

 "Oh no need to be sorry bubs, and How’s he treating you?" he questioned. 

"He’s been treating me well I guess." you said stating the last part quietly, deep down you knew you weren’t telling the truth, the truth is that he’s been flaking on dates between you too because he “doesn’t feel well”, yet your friends send you photos that same night of his Instagram stories where he’s out partying with friends.

 Logan’s eyebrow raised upon hearing your response. “What do you mean ��Well I Guess’” He asked. “You don’t sound so sure about that baby” He drank a bit of his beer looking into your eyes. 

 That nickname he used so often with you, always seemed to have an effect on you. For context, You always had a crush on Logan, you thought it would have gone away with it just being a ‘stupid teenage crush’ but no it wasn't. The crush on that man had gotten stronger the older you’ve gotten. You hoped he had some sort of crush on you at all. Some days you would notice all the side glances he would make when you exited the house all dressed up or even when you would kiss Jacob goodbye when he dropped you off at home. 

 “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it Logan.” you tried to reassure him. 

You knew Logan was hard to try to convince him of something. He knew you were keeping something from him, and he was going to get it out of you. 

“I know you too well, Something’s bothering you, You know you can talk to me. I won’t tell your old man.” He put his beer down on the coffee table and turned closer towards you.

“Tell me the truth bubs. Is he not treating you right? You shouldn't be dealing with that baby” he said using that nickname you loved, putting his hand on your thigh rubbing it&keeping eye contact while smirking.

Your heart races at seeing him rubbing his thumb over your thighs. His goddamn smirk too.

“He’s ju-” 

You were interrupted mid-sentence by your dad walking into the room.

Logan moved his hand back to himself, grabbing his beer and clearing his throat. Your dad entered the room, with his snacks laid out on a big plate and another six-pack of beer. "Oh, you gonna watch the game with us? I thought Jacob was taking you out." your dad asked settling down the plate and beers in front of the two men’s seats.  

"Uh no sadly not, I'm still going out with Jacob tonight," you said, a hint of irritation in your voice. "So if you guys don't mind me, I need to go get ready. This hair and makeup is not gonna get done by itself." You shot a glance at Logan, his expression unreadable, before quickly exiting the room. 

As you left the room, you swear you felt Logan's eyes on your back piercing right through you as you walked upstairs toward your bedroom. In your bedroom You fixed up your hair a bit and walked back and forth through your closet trying to pick what you were gonna wear but thoughts of Logan’s hand rubbing your thigh just kept invading your mind. The thought of him just alone made you wet. God the affect that man had on you. No matter how much you try to ignore it, more thoughts of him rushed back in and so did questions. Was he jealous? Why did he look disappointed when you mentioned your boyfriend, Jacob? 

You could not let the thought of your dad’s best friend cross your mind anymore, you had to finish getting ready, either way, Jacob told you yesterday to be ready by 4 and time was approaching. You previously made the plan to get fucked tonight, Jacob had to appreciate what he had. You slipped into your mini skirt that matched perfectly with your shirt—sitting at your vanity, applying your everyday makeup. As you moved on to applying a final coat of lipgloss, you heard your phone buzz. You picked it up and felt your stomach drop as you read the message from “jacob <3” 

 "Gotta raincheck tonight I’m not feeling well again, sorry bb" 

He did it once again for the 4th time, yet this time he promised he wouldn’t cancel still yet he did. Anger filled you, you had spent so much time getting ready, just for him to cancel like always. You’re ready for nothing, no plans, no nothing. You were pissed. You began to type up some utter bullshit “oh okay feel better soon love you<33.” 

He quickly replied by liking the message with a thumbs up. 

 Not even a “Love you too” What the fuck, Fuck him, Fuck this Logan was right you shouldn’t be dealing with this. Enough was enough. You were done with his bullshit. Your plan of at least fucking Jacob one more time was not going to happen at all and you needed to get laid lord knows how long it's been. You decided were gonna get some drinks from downstairs and try to forget about Jacob.

As you walked out of your room and down the stairs, scouraging through your dad’s liquor drawer. You heard the voices of your dad and Logan floating through the air, watching the football game. You suddenly had an idea. If Jacob couldn't appreciate you, maybe it was time to play a game with someone else who might appreciate your presence more.

Discarding the drawer you began to walk into the living room walking past your dad and Logan. You could tell Logan was trying hard not to stare at you with that skirt. “oh, is Jacob here?” your dad said.

“No, we’re not going out anymore. He’s not feeling well so I figured I’d just watch the game with you guys” You smiled knowing damn right it was a lie, sitting directly on the couch near Logan. 

Your dad looked over at you with a mix of surprise and a bit of concern on his face. “Really? Everything alright with Jacob?” He asked. Logan seemed to tense up even more as you sat down right next to him, your legs almost touching his. 

“Yeah, he said he’s just gonna stay in and rest up,” you replied as your dad simply nodded in acknowledgment.

 Meanwhile, Your dad's eyes were glued to the screen, not noticing the tension in the room. As the game continued, you tried to act natural, pretending to be interested in the players' moves while secretly glancing at Logan. He stole a few glances your way, his eyes roaming over your short skirt, before quickly looking away. You could feel his gaze burning into you, and you couldn’t help but secretly enjoy the attention. 

As the first half of the game finished and halftime began, your dad got up and announced, "Well, it's halftime. I'm gonna go use the restroom real quick. I'll be right back." He gave you two a quick smile before heading out of the room.

As soon as your dad left the room, the tension in the air thickened. You were suddenly alone with Logan on the couch, the only sound was the faint commentary from the TV.

From what you could tell you saw Logan fiddling with the remote of the television before he said, "This damn remote won't work. I can't hear anything!" 

"Give me it, lemme try," you offered, pointing to the volume control on the TV box.

Slowly, you bent down to turn up the volume trying to put your skirt down a bit, taking your sweet time. "How's that?" you asked, looking directly at Logan for a response.

He swallowed hard as he caught sight of your ass falling out of your mini skirt. His eyes try to balance between the TV and your exposed skin. "Yeah, uh... yeah, that's better," he mumbled, trying to maintain his composure. Once you sat back on the couch, you casually glanced at him and saw him adjusting his jeans and squirming where he was sitting. You couldn't help but smirk as you looked quickly towards the TV, knowing full well the effect you were having on Logan. Your plan working all accordingly.

Your dad came back from the bathroom and, seeing how uneasy and squirmy Logan was looking, asked him, "Logan, you okay buddy?

"Yeah, I'm good," Logan muttered. 

The game resumed, with the atmosphere was heavy. Both of you were distracted; the game was on, but neither of you watched. Your dad was completely oblivious to the tension you both were building.

Logan kept replaying the image of you bent over, eyes staring right at him. His mind soon began to wander to thoughts about only you. He knew the game wouldn’t be over for a while.

Once 20 minutes had passed, Logan had enough and decided to excuse himself to use the restroom.

”I’ll be back gotta use the restroom,” he said while getting up.

“Are you sure? Man, you're gonna miss the game.” your dad asked Logan.

“yeah, it’s fine.” he quickly replied walking by.

You stayed downstairs with your dad to watch the game. Already getting tired of just watching the game, you decided to go to your room and work on some assignments, using it as an excuse. You bid your dad goodnight and told him you might not come down again that night.

"Alright, kiddo," your dad replied. "Goodnight, and don't stay up too late. Oh, and can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Dad. What is it?" you asked.

"Can you knock on the bathroom door and call out to Logan? He's going to miss out on the rest of the game if he doesn't come out soon," your dad replied concerned.

"Yeah, no problem," you smiled assuring your dad.

You made your way up to the bathroom, your footsteps a bit quicker than usual. You knocked gently on the door, but there was no response. 

"Weird," you muttered under your breath. Feeling a mix of curiosity and growing worry, you turned away from the bathroom and headed toward your room instead.

As you entered, your eyes widened in shock and surprise. There, standing before you, was Logan, going through your underwear drawer.

"You perv," you exclaimed, jokingly lightly smacking his shoulder.

He visibly jumped, caught in the act. His face reddened as he frantically tried to come up with an explanition.

"Shit, look, it's not-" he began, his words stumbling over each other in his act to explain.

You cut him off, "Oh, it's exactly what it looks like, Lo.”

He was too stunned to speak.

You crossed your arms, in annoyance, and said, "So you're the reason my panties have been going missing?"

Logan's eyes widened, his guilt evident. He tried to protest, "No, no, look, you don't understand-"

But you interrupted him again, "But I do. I've seen the way you've looked at me, and those sneaky touches on my thighs... I've seen it all, Logan."

Logan's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly closed the drawer. He looked at you, the evidence of his actions clear.

"I... I can explain," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

You raised an eyebrow, giving Logan a skeptical look. "Explain then," you said, leaning against the wall, and crossing your arms.

Frustration and lust appeared on Logan's face as he replied, "You know what, no. You teased me all damn night. I deserve this at least. You were trying to get me killed out there.”

“What teasing are you even talking about?” you acted oblivious.

“You realize what you were doing out there is so wrong. Don't try to act all innocent now.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you’re talking about Logan," You started smirking.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Logan growled, his voice low. "You were bending over out there, practically flashing your ass at me. You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? Getting me all hard in front of your old man huh?”

“I was just trying to fix the volume for you.” Still trying to keep the innocent act up.

“Bullshit baby,” he said eying your mini skirt. 

Logan's eyes darkened with desire as he walked closer to you, backing you against the wall. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly the effect you have on me." His voice was low and husky.

"Walking around in these tiny outfits, bending over every chance you get."

As you locked eyes with Logan, your steady gaze holding his, you repeated your question, "And what are you gonna do about it?" You slowly knelt before him, your face now inches away from the button of his jeans. 

Logan's gazed down at you, hand going to caress your chin. He took a step closer to you. "You know what I wanna do, outta teach you a lesson," he said, his voice hoarse with lust.

Within seconds you pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers along with them letting his dick spring freely out. 

"Suck on it." 

Obeying what he said you started coating his cock with your spit. Logan groaned softly as your lips wrapped around his thick shaft, your tongue swirling expertly. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head as you bobbed up and down. "Fuck, just like that baby," he breathed, trying to keep his voice low.

“Ah, fuck.” Hearing him moan made you love pleasing Logan with his cock in your mouth. That alone made you soaking wet. 

He grunted as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, your lips stretched wide around his girth gagging a bit, eyes watering. "Shh, careful now," he whispered urgently, glancing at the door. "We can't make too much noise with your dad right downstairs."

Logan's eyes widened in shock and arousal as you carefully moved your mouth off his throbbing erection, your voice breathy as you said "It's too much, Daddy." He shuddered at the forbidden words, his cock twitching with need even as his mind reeled.

His hands shook as he watched you wipe a strand of your spit off your hand, the sight sending a jolt of desire through him. He quickly glanced at the door again before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"Fuck, baby, you can't say that out loud. Not ever."

Gripping on your chin tightened as you wrapped your lips around his hot, hard flesh once more. His voice grew strained as he hissed, "Faster, baby… just like that... Oh God, harder...harder... I'm not gonna last... not with you sucking me off like that..."

Logan's words tumbled out in a desperate, breathless rush as you worked his throbbing cock with your mouth. "This is so wrong... but fuck baby, your mouth feels so good... I can't think straight... shit, I'm not gonna last... oh fuck, I'm gonna..."

His voice rose to a hoarse scream as his orgasm crashed over him, his hips bucking wildly as he fucked your mouth without warning. "Fuckk!" he groaned, his cock pulsing violently as he erupted into your mouth, painting your throat with thick ropes of cum.

He panted, trying to catch his breath as he came down from his high.

"Your dad's gonna kill me," he said shakily, his body still trembling from release. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants before pulling you up into his arms.

[peakyrain]

"proving" shifting through scientific evidence (& philosophic theory)

this post is heavily inspired by @voldyateme on tiktok. i saw her video and decided to do research on my own, and write a detailed post about this topic to make myself understand better. i also would like to mention that some of the claims irene made in her tiktok were wrong (and biased) i also wanted to clear some things up for myself.

fyi: long post ahead. this took me three days to understand and write. i might still be a bit unclear on my understanding of some aspects, but to avoid having to write a whole novel on the subject, i simplified my findings and shortened them by a lot.

-

john clauser is a physicist who won the nobel peace prize in 2022 for his work on quantum entanglement. his theory confirms that quantum particles can be entangled across vast distances, and that their behaviors are instantly connected, even if they're light years apart.

a very simplified example:

i: you create two entangled particles

ii: you send particle A to tokyo, and particle B to paris

iii: a person in tokyo measures particle A and sees it spinning up, then instantly, meaning instantly, faster than light, the person in paris will know particle B is spinning down

this is simply based on particle A or B's observation, w/o there having to be sent any message or signal between them. they behave as if they're one system - not two separate ones.

the moment you measure one particle, you're instantly aware of the other particle's state.

⭒ relating quantum entanglement to shifting:

okay so now we know that entangled particles act as of they're one system, even through long distances. so, if everything was once connected to the big bang, then on some level, everything may still be entangled. meaning you, your consciousness and other "versions" of yourself in other realities.

this could therefore suggest that we are already connected to all possible versions of ourselves. they exist within a quantum field of potential, and our awareness can shift between these versions by tuning into the version we desire - essentially by choosing a different frequency.

say you're listening to the radio. you know that you’re able to listen to any radio broadcast because there are thousands playing at the same exact time, but you choose which one to listen to, knowing you have the choice to change it to another.

it's the same exact with shifting. you know that there are endless versions of you in existence right this moment - you only have to choose to become aware of your desired self.

-

john wheeler, another physicist, proposed that reality is directly linked to our consciousness and what we observe. it's been demonstrated that particles don't move until they're actually observed. so if we're not observing something, it doesn't have a definite state at all. this is called the "observer effect"

the effect has challenged and in some ways helped disprove einstein's theory of realism. einstein believed that that the physical world exists independently of whether we observe it or not.

example: according to einstein, if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to observe it, the tree still falls. this is shown to be false on a quantum level. that said, we can't w/ certainty say that the tree does (or doesn’t) exist if no one is perceiving it (confusing, trust me, i know)

wheeler also proved that particles will change their makeup based on our choices and observation. simplified, this means that reality doesn't fully decide its state until it's observed. it can have different outcomes, and our choices affect the past behavior of particles.

⭒ relating the observer effect to shifting:

we know that quantum particles don't take on a definite form or "reality" until they're observed. this implies that our observation plays a direct role in shaping reality - not just by watching, but also deciding. this implies that reality isn't fixed, but fluid, shaped by our decisions, thoughts and observations and means we can "choose" our reality.

quantum physics shows that reality isn't fixed until observed, observation and consciousness do play a key role and that multiple outcomes are possible. so our consciousness focus can be said to be the mechanism that "shifts" us into a desired timeline or reality.

-

way before quantum physics existed, george berkley, a philosopher in the 1700s argued the idea "to be is to be perceived", which is eerily similar to what scientists are exploring today.

he believed that physical objects don't exist independently of our own perception. so if no one is for example perceiving a tree, then it doesn't exist.

berkeley said that there is no such thing as matter existing on its own w/o a mind to perceive it. BUT! there's a twist. you see, berkley also argued the existence of God being necessary to explain how the world works within his theory of perception and idealism.

okay so, to simplify because it can be really confusing:

i: physical things only exist if they're being perceived.

ii: when humans aren't perceiving things, God is.

iii: the reason why the world keeps existing even when we're not looking is because God is always "watching".

this raises the question: if we're not perceiving something, and the only reason it exists because God is, then how do we know it actually exists when we're not perceiving it?

berkeley responded:

"we know it exists because we can come back and perceive it again, and it behaves consistently"

if you look at a tree, walk away, come back. it's still there. berkeley argued that you assume the tree existed the whole time because when you go back, the tree would still be there, at the exact same spot.

this consistency would therefore be explained by God's continuous perception of it. so even though you didn't perceive it the whole time, the fact that reality is orderly and consistent is reliable "proof" that something (God) kept it there.

critics have argued back that assuming God is perceiving all the time isn't proof that He actually is, so how would we know that?

the answer is: w/o God, things would just pop in and out of existence every time we blink and that doesn't happen. so God is used to explain why the world is consistent and stable even when we're not watching.

you can't personally perceive something that you're not perceiving, but you trust that it's still there when you go back there, because of God.

berkeley's theory is still relevant today because the things he imagined in the 1700s do line up w/ scientific discoveries today and i resonate w/ his theory, so i just had to include it even though God’s existence isn’t proven. it’s fascinating, really.

⭒ relating george’s idealism to reality shifting:

if, like berkeley said, things only exist when they're being perceived, and if reality stays consistent because someone is always perceiving it, then that means perception isn't just passive, it's creative and shapes what exists.

this ties back to shifting beacuse it suggests that your desired reality doesn't need to "appear" in front of you for it to be real - it only needs to be perceived. if you consciously focus on your dr, perceiving it in your mind as real, then by berkeley's logic, it is real, maybe not in the physical sense just yet, but within the field of awareness that gives rise to reality in the first place.

so basically: if reality is perception based, and you're perceiving your dr, then you're giving form to something that exists because you're actively perceiving it, and you are capable of being in that place.

[rationaliity]

dr ratio vs. the genius society | an analysis

this'll also be a comparison between ruan mei and dr. ratio so warning for that one too, just in case.

i saw this post by @chronical-lover

and firstly, i just want to say thank you, especially about mentioning how aeons don't care about humans because youre so right. i wanna expand a little bit on the comparison between his character and the genius' that we've met this far.

ratio ultimately failed to be recognized not because he wasn't smart enough, but because he was too human. he's human first, scientist second. he'll always be human first, he doesn't have it in him to act without emotions no matter how much he wants logic to dictate his every move. his entire character is that he believes every one has a human right to be alive, to learn and to grow. he's there to guide them, not necessarily in the nicest way, but still.

i think contrasting him with ruan mei in the story quest was a perfect idea. when you meet ruan mei, she's kind. she makes the trailblazer feel comfortable, even for just a little bit. she offers companionship, tea, and a conversation. but she does not care about the trailblazer or her creations, something painfully obvious in her actions. when the trailblazer was facing up against ruan mei's failed attempt to make a replica of the emanator of propagation, ruan mei was no where to be found. but you know who was, just in case he had to step in ? veritas ratio. even though both knew that the replica wasn't likely to hurt the trailblazer, ratio was there.

" since you're here, i won't intercede. but should you fail, i will be forced to prevent some avoidable misfortunes "

( i hate this man so much )

but he was there. he witnessed the fight, and once the threat was over, it was time to get going ( his words, not mine ). he was there to witness you fight, and should he had needed to, he would've stepped in to prevent us from any actual danger. however, when we approach ruan mei after the fight, and we look reasonably upset from her, we don't get an actual apology. she says she regrets her actions, but her words aren't actually about putting us in danger. she was upset that her experiment fell short, that she had made another predictable outcome.

" you look.. upset, correct ? i regret my actions. there's no defending what i've done. time and again, my experiments have fallen short, and they've always yielded predictable results. i made a clone but it.. doesn't hold a candle to the emanator. "

she did say that she would be there if the danger proved to be too great, but she was not. veritas, however, was. both of them said that they would step in if needed, but only one of them was actually in a position to do so. only one of them took preventative measures to make sure that you were safe from harm. and that is not the genius ruan mei, no matter what her words say.

ruan mei has a flowery way of speaking. not to say that she necessarily minces her words, she's upfront about a lot of things. but she lures the trailblazer into a false sense of security. she's introspective, and questions her own actions a lot. but she's never apologetic about the way that her actions put other people in danger, just that they don't yield the results she wants.

ratio, however, is curt. we meet him originally as a brooding, mysterious figure. he's mean, he doesn't use a lot of words to get his point across. he says what he means, and he's a fan of effective communication. he doesn't have to worry about himself, he knows who he is and how is actions affect himself and the people around him, and that leads to people assuming that he's egotistical ( which he might be , a little bit. as a treat ) but the reality is that ratio cares more about the people around him that he'll ever let on.

and that's where he fails. that's the fundamental difference between him and those within the genius society. ruan mei, herta, screwllum, and the other geniuses do not care about anything other than results. and yet ratio is kind. he's inherently kind, his actions are all for other people. he's saved a dozen worlds with his inventions. he's a scholar within the intelligentsia guild, and a doctor saving his patient's lives every single day. he wants to guide people from the shadows towards the right answer, he wants to make them use their brains and think.

he does not act without considering other people. he can't be a genius first, and a human second. and that's where he fails to gain nous' recognition. it's not that he's not not intelligent enough to be a genius, it's that even in his pursuit of knowledge, he has not forgone his humanity.

and perhaps, in nous' eyes, that's the difference between the mediocre and the genius. to erase every part of you, your emotions, your empathy, your humanity, in the pursuit of knowledge is what separates a genius from the masses. not having those barriers allows you to really dig deep into subjects that would otherwise be considered taboo or dangerous, because you don't care about how the outcome affects people as long as you can study it. as long as you can get answers out of what you're studying, it doesn't really matter what the test subjects are feeling.

ratio is too human, too caring, to ever be considered a genius in nous' eyes.

[alotofpockets]

No one ever holds me | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "No one ever holds me."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

The first match in the SheBelieves Cup didn’t exactly go as planned. A 4-0 loss against Japan was not how you wanted to start the competition. All day, you had been beating yourself up about the loss, replaying moments in your head and wondering what you could have done differently. 

To get some distraction from those thoughts you had opened your social media. Not a good idea you had figured out twenty minutes later.

What had started as just scrolling through your feed, ended in a deepdive on the comments placed on your and the team’s posts about the match. Originally thinking it would be nice to see some loving and supportive comments from the fans. While at first you were seeing a bunch of those supportive messages, you had scrolled a little far.

A few negative comments about the team’s performance you could just read and a shake off, but then you stumbled upon comments about your performance. Your defending wasn’t good enough. You weren’t fast enough. You made mistakes. You let your team down.

Normally you don't let negative comments get to you, because they are just people hiding behind their screens, but after the tough loss, their words cut deep.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the comments. Going over and over them in your head, back to replaying the match, analysing everything you did wrong, and where you could have done better. It took a long time, but eventually exhaustion won, and you fell into a restless sleep.

When morning came, you woke up still exhausted. You had twisted and turned all night long. Your mind clouded with the game, still you got up, went to training, and forced a smile onto your face.

Your teammates didn’t need to know how much you were struggling. To them, you were always the happy, bubbly, and cheerful one. Better to fake a smile than let them see anything less.

It seemed you were hiding your struggles well. None of your teammates were questioning you either verbally or with their eyes, so you kept moving. The ache in your chest followed you all through training, but you tried to push it down.

Without you noticing, Kyra’s eyes had been on you all training. Something wasn’t right, she could tell that even from the other side of the pitch. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes, you seemed distracted during drills, and while you were smiling, she didn’t see you joke around like you usually did.

She tried reaching out while you were standing next to each other waiting for the next drill a couple of times, but each time you were conveniently just adjusting your shirt, shorts, or your hair, effectively dodging Kyra’s hand.

Kyra was sure then that something was wrong. The two of you had only been dating for a couple of months, but she had noticed you pushed people away when you weren’t feeling good. 

She stayed quiet during training, but when the team was heading back to the locker room, and she noticed you halting your step to walk behind everyone else, she slowed down her pace to walk with you. 

“Hey,” She said softly as she reached out again. This time you turned your body quickly, acting as if you were checking something behind you. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You replied too quickly. “Just tired.” You finished with a forced grin. Kyra frowned, it couldn’t just be that. “You sure?”

You nodded with another smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Kyra was trying to get in, but it was just making you put up your walls higher. A pattern you had perfected over the years. No need to burden others with your struggles. No need to let the people you love see any version of you other than the happy one they know and love. It was easier this way. Fake a smile, push through, and be the person everyone expects you to be.

Usually the walls and facades worked, but Kyra saw right through them.

After lunch with the team, you slipped away unnoticed. You needed to be away from them for a bit, needed some space. 

You walked outside and sat down on the steps that led to the dining room. With your hands clenched into fists, and your chest tight, you stared off into the distance. You wanted to cry, but your tears weren’t coming.

With your head full of thoughts, you hadn’t heard Kyra approach until she sat down besides you. She didn’t say anything, but she let her knee brush lightly against yours. 

“I just needed a minute.” You say after you’ve gathered yourself a bit. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?” 

You did, you had to do it alone. You’ve always had to do it alone. Her being here didn’t change that. You had to take care of yourself, that’s how it had always been. “I’m fine.” You tell her.

“You don’t have to be fine either.” Kyra said while placing her hand on your knee.

Your eyes are fixed to her hand on your leg, not used to someone reaching out. Probably why you’ve been avoiding her trying the other times today. Then you let your eyes move up to meet hers and before you could stop them, the tears came.

Silent at first, but as soon as they started flowing, all your emotions came crashing down. On instinct you turned away from Kyra, curling into yourself and hiding your emotions from her. But Kyra wasn’t having it.

She reached for you, wrapping her arms around your shaking body, and pulling you close before she could protest. You stiffened in her hold at first, not used to someone holding you when you’re sad, because you always pull away. 

Kyra didn’t let go though and wasn’t planning on letting go until you did. But to her surprise you didn’t pull away. She held you through it all, your quiet sobs and your body trembling against hers. Then you let your body take over, and leaned into her.

Once your tears slowed, you whispered, "No one ever holds me." into her chest. Kyra let one of her arms go and moved it over your back in a comforting pattern. “If you don’t push me away, I will always hold you.”

-----

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[lunarnightt]

Not a spring chicken :: Hayden Christensen x Fem! reader

Summery :: Hayden, your much older boyfriend, feels like he fails you when he doesn't get you to come during sex and your playful teasing doesn't make it any better so no Hayden has to prove he's still a spring chicken.

CW :: Smut! Minors dni! multiple orgasms, age gap relationship, mentions of self-pleasure, oral(fem! receiving), PinV, unprotected sex, soft dom! Hayden, slight porn with a plot, Hayden being the best boyfriend ever ofc.

Authors note :: If you're reading this, then that means this has left my drafts. I hope you all enjoy. Also, since this one is actually leaving my drafts, consider this my first smut ever to be posted here!

Word Count :: 5,003

Hayden had been quiet all day.

Not cold. Not distant. Just… quieter than usual — that introspective kind of quiet that came when he was in his head too much, and not enough in the moment. You knew why. You’d been teasing him for days now — playful jabs about that one time he came too soon, didn’t finish you off, and hadn’t stopped apologizing since.

You hadn’t meant to get under his skin. Well… okay, maybe just a little.

It was the height of summer — air thick, heavy, clinging. You were curled up on the couch in too-small shorts and an oversized tee, legs stretched out near the fan. Hayden sat beside you, shirt clinging to his sweat-damp chest, mindlessly scrolling on his phone — though the tension in his jaw said his mind was anywhere but relaxed.

He hated feeling like he’d disappointed you. Hated it more than he let on. Hayden had always been the type to put your pleasure first — always careful, always slow and intentional, always watching you with those stormy eyes, making sure he read every breath, every sound, every shift in your body.

And that one time? It stuck with him more than it did you. You joked, sure — but he carried it like it meant something bigger.

“Such a shame,” you murmured, smirking without turning your head. “Still haven’t proven me wrong.”

You felt his gaze before you saw it. That slow, heavy kind of look — the kind that made your skin heat more than the sun ever could.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just let the silence stretch for a beat too long before finally speaking, voice low, husky, and a little frayed at the edges. “…Are you trying to challenge me?”

You turned, kneeling on the couch beside him, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you leaned closer. “Maybe. What’s the matter? Scared you’re not a spring chicken anymore?”

That was it.

His hand came up to your chin — not rough, but firm, deliberate — and pulled you into a kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. It was messy, deep, and so full of quiet desperation it made your whole body ache. A sound slipped from his throat, low and raw, and you swore you felt it everywhere.

He wasn’t holding back this time.

His hand found yours, guiding it between his legs, letting you feel exactly what you did to him — how wrong your teasing was, how much you still had a hold on him.

“Feel that?” he murmured against your throat, lips brushing soft skin as he kissed his way down. “This is what you do to me.”

Another kiss. A soft bite to your delicate skin that had you squeezing your legs together.

“You think I don’t want you all the damn time?” he breathed, his voice rasping low like he hated admitting it out loud — like it made him vulnerable somehow. “You drive me crazy, sweetheart.”

And you did. You were the most beautiful thing to him and your body just drove him even more crazy plus with your bratty attitude thrown on top of it.

You moaned softly and cupped your hand around his bulge, softly rubbing it which made him whimper.

And you did.

You drove him insane — always had. But it wasn’t just the curve of your body, the way your skin felt under his fingertips, or the softness of your mouth against his. It was the attitude. That fire. The way you looked at him like you knew exactly what kind of effect you had on him… and still pushed every button you could find.

Hayden’s breath hitched as your hand moved slowly over him, cupping him through the fabric of his jeans with a soft, deliberate touch that sent a full-body shiver down his spine.

A low whimper escaped him — quiet, desperate, and completely unguarded.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second, and when they opened again, there was something different in them — a softness, but darker around the edges. Desire layered beneath admiration, and something else too… something like need.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, his voice nearly broken from how much he felt it, “what you do to me.”

You smiled — slow and wicked — but he leaned in before you could answer, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek like he needed to memorize the way you felt. “And you know it. You know exactly how to ruin me, don’t you?”

You didn’t deny it. Not when his voice shook like that. Not when your teasing had gotten him so far gone he looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or completely fall apart in your hands.

His fingers slid under your shirt — slow, reverent — as if asking for permission he already had. He kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, but no less intense. It was a kiss that said I need you. I still want to prove myself. I still want you to feel everything.

And he would. Not just to prove a point — but because nothing else mattered to him the way you did.

You gasped softly when your back hit the cushions, your body already tingling with the heat of his mouth against your skin.

Hayden pulled your shirt over your head with an almost impatient gentleness, tossing it aside without ever taking his eyes off you. And then he was on you — kissing down your neck, tracing the hollow of your collarbone with his tongue, leaving slow, aching heat in his wake.

By the time he reached your chest, you were already arching toward him, needing more — but he stayed steady, deliberate, lips soft against the curve of your breast before wrapping around your nipple.

A soft cry slipped from you.

God, he was so focused. Like you were the only thing in the world that existed in that moment. No distractions. No hesitations. Just Hayden — completely wrapped up in the way your breath caught and the way your hips shifted under him.

When he finally pulled away, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, your hands twitched at your sides, desperate to touch him, to pull him closer — something.

But he was taking his time.

Teasing you.

Punishing you — sweetly, slowly — for the days of merciless teasing you’d given him.

"Hayden..." you whined, voice trembling as he paused at the waistband of your shorts, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin just above your hips. "Please don't tease me..."

And he laughed — not mean, not mocking — but low and breathy, like the sound vibrated right from his chest.

"But you've been teasing me for the past four days, sweetheart," he said, gaze lifting to meet yours. His voice was deep, rough at the edges, but his eyes… they were soft. So full of want it made your stomach flutter.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he leaned in again, brushing his lips along the inside of your thigh, making your breath stutter.

“I think you can wait a little longer, mhm?”

God, that smug softness in his tone was torture.

The kind of tone that said he wasn’t just going to make you pay — he was going to make you feel every second of it. And when he finally slid your shorts down, it was slow. Intimate. Like unwrapping something sacred.

Because that’s how he saw you. Sacred. Always had

Hayden’s lips trailed higher, slow and deliberate, his breath ghosting over your inner thigh as he let your leg fall naturally over his shoulder. His stubble grazed against your skin, and the sensation made you shiver — anticipation buzzing low in your stomach.

He kissed the sensitive spot just beside where you needed him most, tongue flicking out to taste your skin, and you couldn’t help the way your back arched, hips shifting restlessly beneath him.

You heard him chuckle — quiet, low, and maddeningly soft.

“I haven’t even barely touched you,” he murmured, voice rough and dripping with heat, “and you’re already soaking wet.”

Your face flushed, breath catching in your throat as his fingers brushed the edge of your panties. His eyes never left your face — not for a second — as he slid the thin fabric to the side and leaned in.

Then finally — finally — his tongue dragged a slow, teasing stripe up your core, and it felt like your whole body lit up.

A moan slipped past your lips, involuntary, and he smiled against you.

But it wasn’t cocky. It was reverent. Like he was proud of what he could do to you — proud that you trusted him with this, with all of you.

He didn’t rush.

Every kiss, every flick of his tongue, was patient and deliberate like he wanted to savor you, make up for every second you’d teased him — and then some. His hands held your hips steady, fingers digging in just enough to ground you as he worked you open, slow and focused, like worship.

Like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

When Hayden ate you out, it was like you were seeing god. every single time your eyes would roll to the back of your head, legs would be shaking so violently before finally you reached that peak. then he would keep going, making you beg for him to stop but also for him not to.

Hayden swore when he was younger, he didn't care about that sort of stuff and never took the time to actually focus on it but now that he's older, god he became amazingly well at it which made you believe he was lying.

You were a moaning mess, your hands fisting the couch cushions underneath you as he went from soft licks and then to fucking you with his tongue. You whimpered, your head falling back before you felt him press a finger inside you.

If you weren't already moaning loud before then you were sure you were now because not only was he fingering you but he was licking and sucking on your clit.

When Hayden ate you out, it was like you were seeing god — every single time.

Your eyes would roll back, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head, and your voice would break into desperate moans that filled the room. He always watched you through it all — dark eyes locked on your face like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And when you finally hit that high, shaking and breathless, begging him through gasped pleas and twitching hips—he didn’t stop.

That was the part that broke you.

He’d keep going, tongue relentless, lips dragging over your swollen clit as if he hadn’t just pulled the soul from your body. You’d cry out — beg him to stop, beg him not to — and he’d laugh softly against you, low and wrecked, like he lived for the contradiction in your voice.

When Hayden was younger, he never paid much attention to this. Sex had been simpler — less about the details, more about release. But now?

Now, he was older. And with age came patience. Intent.

Now, he needed to see you like this — undone and shaking because of him. He swore he wasn’t this good before, but the way you clutched the couch cushions, the way your body writhed beneath him, had you thinking he was lying.

Because god, he was good.

Your whimpers spilled out uncontrollably as he flicked his tongue from slow, reverent licks to deep, focused thrusts — fucking you with his mouth like he had something to prove. And maybe he did.

Your head fell back, lips parted in a broken moan — and then you felt him press a finger into you. Smooth. Precise. Curling just right.

And if you thought you were loud before...

Now, you were screaming for him.

Because not only was he fingering you — steady, deep, just enough stretch to make your toes curl — but his mouth was back on your clit, sucking gently, tongue teasing as if he wanted to drive you straight into insanity.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmured between licks, voice dark and reverent, his breath hot against you. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That’s what did it.

That final flick of his tongue, the way his fingers curled just right, the sound of his voice telling you he had you — it all snapped together in your chest and then crashed down in a tidal wave of pleasure.

You moaned his name, loud and desperate, as the orgasm tore through you, your back arching, legs shaking uncontrollably around his shoulders while he didn’t stop.

He held you there. Rode it out with you. Pushed you through every aftershock until your body finally gave out, collapsing into the cushions with a gasp.

Sweat clung to your skin, your thighs twitching from the overstimulation, and your chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. You were limp, dazed, totally at his mercy — and he knew it.

Hayden hovered over you, his eyes dark and full of something wild, something hungry — but still, his touch was soft.

When he reached for your panties, your hips barely lifted.

So he didn’t ask again.

Instead, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric — and with one firm tug — ripped them in half, tossing the ruined lace to the floor like it didn’t matter at all.

Because right now? All he cared about was you.

Hayden stripped quickly, breath uneven as he pulled off his shirt and boxers — until he was fully bare above you. His cock sprang free, flushed deep red at the tip and already leaking, hard as stone and throbbing with need.

But it was the sight of you — flushed, panting, still glowing from your release — that made him groan low in his throat.

“God, sweetheart…” he whispered, his voice thick, almost hoarse, as he reached out and cradled your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin with the same tenderness he always held for you, even when his body was practically vibrating with need.

He leaned in and kissed you — quick, but full of heat — before pulling back just enough to breathe, “You’re so beautiful like this…" His eyes flicked down your body, drinking you in. Every inch. Every tremble. Every soft, open breath.

“All tuckered out,” he murmured, “but I really wanna show you how much of a spring chicken I still am.”

Then he smiled — that rare, sly smile that only came out when he was about to completely ruin you.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” His voice dropped an octave — and it wasn’t a request.

You slowly parted your legs for him, your body still trembling, your breath shallow — but the way he looked at you, like you were the most delicate, beautiful thing he’d ever seen, made you feel safe.

Hayden moved over you, gently guiding one of your legs up and hooking it over his hip. His hands were big and warm as they steadied your thigh, grounding you. Then he dipped down, brushing his lips against your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth — soft, reverent kisses meant to calm, to remind you he was here with you.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but laced with care.

You nodded, breath catching in your throat.

Because Hayden wasn’t just big — he was the biggest you’d ever had. Thick, long, with that perfect curve that always stole your breath before it gave it back in moans. The stretch was something you never fully got used to — that sweet sting that came with every time he pushed inside you, slow and deep, made you feel split open in the best way.

He lined himself up at your entrance, eyes flicking to yours one last time as if asking silently, you sure?

And then — slowly, carefully — he pressed forward.

You gasped, your mouth parting as inch by inch, he pushed into your tight heat, his cock stretching you open with an ache that made your toes curl. He was being so gentle, his hand gripping your thigh as he whispered soft things under his breath — things you couldn’t even catch through the haze, but you felt them in the way he kissed your shoulder, your neck, your lips again.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he sank deeper. “Fuck… you feel so good. So damn tight.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock pressing deep, perfectly, before he stilled — letting you adjust, just like he always did.

He remembered the first time. How your eyes had welled with tears, how he thought he hurt you. But you’d clung to him, told him to keep going, and the second he did…

You were wrecked for him.

Just like now.

Your walls squeezed him like a vice, so wet, so warm it made his head spin. He buried his face in your neck, groaning low as he finally settled fully inside you, his hips flush against yours.

“God, baby…” he murmured, his voice barely a breath. “You take me so good. Always do.”

And even though your body was still buzzing from before, you could already feel the build starting again.

Hayden started to move — slow at first, pulling out just enough to feel the drag, then pushing back in with that same deep pressure that made your breath catch in your throat.

You moaned softly, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, nails raking up his back in long, deliberate strokes. The tension in his muscles twitched under your touch, and when your nails dug in just a little deeper—

He hissed.

Not in pain. In pleasure.

He loved when you left marks. Loved when your body responded to him so instinctively, when you couldn't help but grab, scratch, hold on like your body was trying to claim his.

“Yeah… yes, baby,” he groaned, voice raspy as his pace began to build.

Each thrust was a little faster now, deeper, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the room along with your moans. Hayden shifted, one hand reaching back to grip the arm of the couch for leverage, his biceps flexing as he used it to drive into you harder — smoother.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he muttered, panting as he buried himself deep, again and again, his voice thick and strained with need.

Your name spilled from his lips like a prayer between low, broken moans.

He loved watching your face — the way your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parted, every breath you took syncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. Your body clung to him like it never wanted to let go, your heat pulsing around him every time he drove in.

“God, you feel unreal,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to yours as his rhythm faltered for just a second, overwhelmed by how tight, how perfect you were.

“Look at me, baby.” His voice was firm but soft, commanding but tender.

“Let me see those pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

You moaned loudly, his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra as he drove harder and faster, his movements becoming a blur of urgency and desire.

The couch creaked beneath you, shifting with the force of his thrusts. It felt like everything around you was moving — the room, the air, the very essence of the world outside faded into nothing. All that mattered was him and how deep he was burying himself inside you.

But even the thought of how much you’d hate cleaning this up later flickered out as quickly as it came. Because every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, and the way Hayden was using his body, guiding yours, was mesmerizing.

He pressed your leg further down against the couch, forcing you to spread open for him even more, every inch of you exposed and vulnerable. The sensation was electric, your skin tingling with every push and pull.

“Fuck—Hayden, please,” you whimpered, voice trembling and breathless. But you had no idea what you were begging for; all you knew was the fire he was igniting inside you, how good it felt, how desperately you craved more.

His name fell from your lips again, softer this time, a plea wrapped in a moan, and it sent a shiver down his spine. You could hear the way he was breathing — harsh and uneven, like he was barely holding onto control as he thrusted deeper.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and thick, pressing kisses against your ear and down your neck, whispering sweet nothings that made your heart race. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking perfect.”

His words washed over you, and with each thrust, it felt like he was pouring his love into you — every inch, every movement, every whisper.

The pleasure coiled tightly in your core, building and building, pushing you toward the edge. You could feel the heat rising, the pressure mounting, as he lost himself in you, and you lost yourself in him.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathed against your skin, the warmth of his breath igniting the fire within you. “Let it go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, filled with that beautiful mix of love and desire. He was everything you needed, and in that moment, you knew there was no one else you wanted.

You whimpered, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as you held on to him, feeling your legs shake beneath you. That familiar coil of pleasure built up deep inside, growing tighter and tighter, and you could feel it threatening to burst free.

“I’m close…” you managed to whisper, voice breathy and trembling, and the sound made him chuckle lowly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he moaned, the rhythm of his thrusts deepening as he sought out that spongy spot inside you — the one he knew would push you over the edge. Each powerful thrust hit just right, making your whole body quiver in response.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his breath ragged, filled with a desperate kind of need that mirrored your own.

His words were the last spark you needed. The heat pooled in your core ignited, that familiar wave crashing over you as your body tightened around him, muscles clenching as you fell apart.

“Oh god, Hayden!” you cried out, the pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. You could feel every inch of him as he filled you, stretching you perfectly, and with every thrust, he sent you spiraling deeper into ecstasy.

Hayden groaned, the sound deep and primal as he felt you clench around him, the way your body responded to his movements. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he encouraged, his own pleasure climbing as he lost himself in you, every thrust matched with the rhythm of your release.

You were a beautiful mess beneath him, eyes half-closed, face flushed, and he couldn’t look away. He watched you come undone, heart racing with a mix of love and lust that left him breathless.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered, burying himself deeper as he rode out your orgasm, driving you both to that point of bliss you’d been longing for.

You felt him twitching inside you, the rhythm of his thrusts growing sloppier, more frantic as he neared his own release. You could sense the tension radiating off him, the way his breath hitched against your neck, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, grounding both of you in this beautiful moment.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair, stroking gently as his head buried deeper between your neck and shoulder, savoring every second.

“Please… please come in me,” you begged, and those words were like a switch flipping. They ignited something primal within him — something that made his eyes darken with lust and his body surge with urgency.

“God,” he groaned, and just like that, he picked up his thrusts, driving into you harder, deeper, fueled by the thought of filling you, of seeing you swollen with his child one day. The very idea sent a wave of heat through him, pushing him closer to the edge.

The connection between you two intensified as he pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room, mixed with your moans and gasps. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you could feel the heat pooling in your core again, rising to meet his urgency.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he panted, his voice thick with desperation and need. “I’m right there… don’t stop, don’t hold back!”

And with every word, every thrust, the tension built higher and higher, spiraling out of control until you were both teetering on the brink.

“Come for me, Hayden,” you urged, your voice a breathy whisper as you locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “I want to feel you.”

That was all it took.

With a primal growl, he surged forward, his body shuddering as he finally let go. “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, thrusting hard as he filled you completely, warmth spreading through you as you both surrendered to that blissful peak together.

You felt it wash over you, a wave of pleasure that mixed with his, leaving you both breathless, wrapped in each other as the world faded away.

The two of you lay there on the couch for a few minutes, breathless, bodies tangled in each other’s warmth, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your hearts beating in sync, trying to catch their breath.

Hayden didn’t move right away, letting the silence settle between you both. His forehead rested gently against yours, and he could feel your chest rising and falling beneath him, every breath a reminder of how close you were, how completely you had connected.

Finally, he pulled his head away from your shoulder, his eyes searching yours for that fleeting moment of vulnerability. Then, as if drawn by some magnetic force, he captured your lips in a deep but gentle kiss, soft and full of love. His lips were tender against yours, tasting of the shared moments, the heat of the passion that had just taken place, but now it was all about the love between you.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of you, his hand still trailing over your sides as he did. It was slow, deliberate, like he didn’t want to let go of you just yet.

“I love you so much…” he whispered against your lips, his voice quiet and sincere, a perfect contrast to the intensity of earlier. His hands traced up and down your sides, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, as if reminding himself that you were right there with him.

You looked up at him, eyes meeting his with that same intense love, your heart pounding, your own feelings a mirror of his. Every word, every action between you two, spoke volumes about how much you truly meant to one another. It wasn’t just about the heat of the moment — it was about something deeper, something that connected you both in a way nothing else ever could.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, your voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

And in that moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms, letting the silence speak the words that neither of you needed to say.

After a few more minutes of lying together in comfortable silence, you heard Hayden start softly laughing, the sound light and carefree, which made you lift an eyebrow in confusion.

“What?” you asked softly, the smile on your lips unable to hide your curiosity.

Hayden pushed himself up, locking eyes with you, and cupped your cheeks in his large hands. He gazed at you with that familiar gentle smile, his expression warm and sincere. Then, without warning, he placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away just enough to speak.

“I’m not a spring chicken now, huh?” he asked with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling as if he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

You rolled your eyes playfully, a smirk forming on your lips. “Screw you, asshole,” you shot back, and his grin only widened, making him shake his head in mock disbelief.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Hayden chuckled, his voice thick with affection. But before you could retort, he suddenly scooped you up in his arms with surprising strength, causing you to squeal loudly in surprise.

“Hayden!” you laughed, your hands instinctively clutching him as he began walking through the house, your body still a little wobbly from earlier.

He smirked, his pace slow and confident. “I think one more round will do the trick, what do you say?” His tone was playful but with a certain promise, making your heart race in anticipation.

Before you could respond, Hayden effortlessly tossed you onto the bed with a gentle yet deliberate motion, causing you to land with a soft bounce. You blinked up at him, a mixture of surprise and amusement written across your face as you tried to catch your breath.

Let’s just say, Hayden definitely proved he was still a spring chicken.

Author's note :: I know I already did one of these but I am seriously proud of my work on this one! I hope you guys liked it and sorry if it's bad!

[dragonmonstermilk]

Roseshroom trap

Hi guys! So, I don't know why, but tumblr deleted my post?! Btw this smut has a resonator!Reader (wuthering wawes inspired) but can be read simply as adventurer!Reader. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Tw: monster fucking, (mention of) tentacles have aphrodisiacs effect, (if you squint) public sex, lots of cum, squirting, gn!reader, gangbang (tentacles), blowjob, (kinda) belly bulge from cum.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The sun was setting; the day went already by by just helping people and taking some chests here and there. You decided to give yourself a break, wanting to see the amazing sunrise. As you sat down in silence, while the orangey ray of the sun made the sky all pinkish, you saw a few meters from you, something glistening, something that seemed like a cave.

Without thinking too much you got up again, the sun guiding you towards your destination. To be safe, you pulled your sword out, making sure that near the entrance there weren't enemies. After checking the situation and seeing that nothing was there, you made your way inside the cave. Luckily, there were a few torches light it up, as well as some sun's rays, as if they were really guiding you towards some mysterious path. Indeed, you found something.

Being always cautious, you approached what seemed to be a puzzle. You were intrigued and as you got closer yoy noticed some sort of cube to move.

'Well, let me try this" you said more to yourself, even because the cave was empty apart from you, or that's what you thought. As you inspect the puzzle to make up the trajectory of the cube, you find the right solution: from top left, to top center, to middle center to middle right, to down right to bottom right, and, yes, that's it! To bottom center! Keeping in mind these directions you solved successfully the puzzle.

"Wasn't that hard!" You spoke to yourself, proud to have solved another puzzle. In reality, this was a very easy one, maybe because you already have experience in this kind of puzzle.

After a few minutes you heard a sound, like something unlocking from deep inside the puzzle. What did you expect wasn't that, not at all. Keeping a safe distance, what stood before you was not a chest but a monster! A mushroom kinda like monster with his head resembling a rose!

Mhh...why didn't I think about it?! Ok, let's keep calm. Maybe there's something after I defeat it. You took a few breaths, gripping steadily your sword. Now you were facing the roseshroom, but the closer you got the more it didn't move an inch.

After making a quick check, you relaxed yourself, thinking that it was innocent and that this challenge didn't really have a reward. As you put your defenses down, two yellow tentacles creeped beneath you, grasping your ankles. The tentacles lifted you, now you are hovering above the head of the roseshroom. You squealed in surprise as your sword fell down, a metallic sound echoing in the cavern.

"Put me down!" screaming, kicking your feet and hands you tried to free yourself but it was impossible, the grip of the two tentacles way too strong for you. Still struggling to find a way to break free, another two tentacles approached your body, one entering your shorts, moving against your hole and teasing it, the other one circling your chest.

Your face flushed red. Your body immobilized both from the tentacles on your hands and legs and because you were embarrassed feeling the wetness in your sensitive spot. "W-WAIT!" you screamed panicked, but the tentacles didn't heard you, or better, they did but your mouth now was forced open by another tentacle. You moaned around it as the one teasing your hole entered inside you. Your body tensed, feeling full from the large girth of the tentacle. As it moved slowly inside you, touching your deepest sensitive spot, the one on your chest circled your sensitive nipples. The one in your mouth matched the peace of the tentacle inside you. Giving it a messy blowjob as saliva was all over the tentacle and running down your mouth.

"P-please.." you muttered with teary eyes, not knowing what was for your pleading. The pleasure spread all throughout your body, sending intense shockwaves. You couldn't believe that tentacles were fucking you! Your body was so warm, you were feeling too hot, as if you had fever. Your nipples were so sensitive that the contrast of the slimy and cool tentacle made you cum, not that stopped the one inside you as the deep in your throat.

"Mhm, ahh, please, I'm gonna cum again if you continue!" you tried talking, but again, your voice sounded more like a whisper for all the deep trust of the tentacle in your mouth. As you moved yourself for more friction, another tentacle entered your wet hole. Your mind was fuzzy, thinking only about cumming and having more pleasure. The two tentacles inside you were even bigger than what you felt before, both of them moving at the same deep and harsh pace as your hole was squeezing them, knowing that you were about to cum.

Moans, gasps and sticky sounds echoed in the cave, not feeling embarassed of your own moans. It was all too good to think about embarassement. The tentacles kept fucking you non stop. What time it was? It were passed only a few minutes or hours? You couldn't say, maybe it was midnight or maybe not. The only thing you were sure about was the more the tentacles fucked your holes the more you wanted.

"Ahhh! Mhhnggg!! I-i'm cumming!" Your body tensed again, releasing your sweet juice, at the same time the tentacles inside you filled you up with their seed, making his way deep deep inside you. As your hole was getting pumped up with cum a belly bump formed. The tentacle in your mouth came too. You swallowed all, and as it removed from your mouth, some cum spurted all over your face and chest, creating more mess than before.

You were breathless, brain completely empty as the roseshroom expanded his head, as if it wanted to make a bit more of room for your body. As soon as you were laid on top of his head your body collapsed. You closed your eyes, recovering from all what happened. The tentacles runned all over your body, as a way to comfort you.

This sure was better than a chest.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[kaciebello]

Dangerous mail

Masterlist Badger express ★ Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Mattheo needs to use the Badger post to send threats. There is only one person who can help him.  Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.2k Song: Babydoll - Dominic Fike

 Mattheo vowed to himself never to use the delivery service. That's why his steps were fast and his looks were sharp. When the vow is only in his mind, it is as easy to break as a twig. Trying to find the Hufflepuff Girl turns out to be a rather difficult task. The note was bent, almost burning a hole in his back pocket.

He has already scared a bunch of first-years trying to find the girl, he has searched from the dungeons to the towers and she was nowhere to be found. If he was to guess, the girl was just a few steps faster than him. So when he arrived at the greenhouse where herbology classes are held, he swore angles were upon him when a beam of light shined at the girl.

She was, for some reason, sitting on the top of the highest cabinet. The one where you need to climb to get on top. Now, Matteo has learned not to question the Hufflepuff way of sitting in the most uncomfortable places in the most uncomfortable positions. He once saw her hang upside down from the broom, intentionally. 

He made his way to her, the girl seemed to be dozed and sunbathing in the beam. Her hair was let down but he could still make out the yellow bow in it. He knocked on the cabinets to get the girl's attention. She looked down at him with no other reaction.

“Oi,” He said looking up. She didn't answer him, just waved at him as she swayed her legs back and forth. Mattheo had to step aside otherwise he would have been kicked straight in the face.

“Can you come down?” He asks grabbing her leg, effectively stopping it from swinging. She tried to move it, but his grip was strong.

“And why would I do that?” She argued back, looking down at him she made sure to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Because I wanna talk to you.” He hissed back in truth slytherin fashion. She just looked at him and signaled for him to talk. He just sighed and accepted his fate and the fact that she was not gonna come down from her throne. He assumed that the minute she would have got down, another wild Hufflepuff would have taken her place in seconds.

“I need to use the Badger post.”He says avoiding her eyes. Looking around, making sure nobody hears them.  She raised her eyebrows at him. Not once has one of the boys asked to use her services. Yes, they have received notes and love letters, but not once have they sent something back. Truly playing to the heartbreaker personas. She had a shocked expression on her face for a second before it turned into a wild smile.

“Oh? And who owns the honors to receive a love note from you?”

“It's a treat.”

“Oh,” she pauses. “That makes sense.” She extended her arms to him. For a moment he thought she was asking him to help her down, but he quickly realized that she wanted the note. He reached into his back pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to the girl. She took it from him and immediately opened it.

“Hey!” He yelped and tried to take it away from her, however, she moved it out of his reach.  He murmured something about privacy, she just waved at him again.

“Please, that applies to love notes, not this. I wanna know who you want to kill. Again.” She said and finished reading. Impressed she gave Mattheo a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. will you deliver it?” He asks her with urgency. Some people walking by give him weird glances, so he gives them the death glare. She just lifted the note against the sun.

“Ya know I was talking to my friend the other day.” She says now looking at him. He gave her a weird look, not understanding where she was going with this.

“And one of them said my dad is hot. Is your dad hot Mattheo?”

“He's the dark lord.”

“Ahh, is that a no then?”He just shook his head, choosing not to answer the girl. For both of their sakes. 

“Will you please deliver it?” He asks her again. She extended her hand to him and made a motion that could only mean one thing. Mattheo reaches again into his back pocket. Pulling out 5 galleons and dropping them in her palm. The girl thum glazes over them and then places them in her skirt pocket. The note soon followed.

“Please doing business with you.” She says pulling her legs up and starting to sunbathe again. Mattheo huffed in disbelief. 

“I kinda need you to do it now.” He says, nervously stepping from side to side. She signed and looked at him again. She let her feet down and scooched to the edge of the cabinet. Mattheo was watching her. It took him a few seconds to understand she was training to get down.  Looking around trying to calculate how and where to jump. Her eyes landed on him.

“Catch me.” She says. He just signed and extended his hands to catch her. He placed his hands around her waist before she jumped. He helped her down slowly, setting her gently on the floor. She was a little bit too close. He could feel her breath on his face. He was so close he could count the eyelashes on her eyes. Her eyes were sparkling in a way he had never seen before. His eyes shift to her lips for a second before going back to her eyes. One of his arms left her waist, moving to her face and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in a bit.

“It's extra.” He stopped in his tracks. Pulling away to look at her straight in the face.

“What?”

“Express delivery, it's 2 galleons extra.” She says looking at him with a very serious face. He chuckles and takes a few stapes away from her. Nodding his head he, he reaches for his back poked and pulls out the 2 galleons.  Placing them in her hand. She doesn't move a muscle, looking at him wide-eyed. 

“You are impossible, you know that sunshine?” He asked her. Her nose scrunched before she shrugged her shoulders at him.

“I will get this delivered by tonight.” She says, now back to her happy persona. She waved at him and left. He watched her as she skipped down the hall. Her robe followed her every movement. He was so close and yet so far. Maybe next time she won't slip away from him. And maybe he won't be so against using the delivery service.

Tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff

[venus-haze]

Under My Skin (Black Noir x Reader)

Summary: Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also the song I’ve Got You Under My Skin. I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten a chance to write for Black Noir! Pre-season 1 where you’re in The Seven. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The piece of paper on the table in front of you was mocking you. Black Noir had already won three out of the four tic-tac-toe matches you were silently engaged in during The Seven’s daily briefing, and with the way things were going, he was poised to win a fifth. With a huff, you drew a hopeless circle and silently slid it back to Noir.

“Nightowl,” Homelander said.

You looked up, bringing your attention to him. 

“Great work on the team-up with Noir the other night.”

Noir slid the paper back to you, his tic-tac-toe win marked with a clean line, but he’d also drawn a smiley face.

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Homelander continued on, and you only half paid attention, your focus increasingly on the man sitting beside you. Even before you joined The Seven, you admired Noir for his stealth and prowess, something you aspired to. Upon your first team-up, it was clear your powers, most effective at night, complimented his incredibly well. Plus, he seemed to like you from the start, which put you in Homelander’s good graces most of the time. 

Absentmindedly, you drew a little heart on the paper, feeling your face heat up when you saw Noir’s head turned toward you. He didn’t acknowledge the drawing, instead beginning a new game of tic-tac-toe. Embarrassment flooded your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You hoped he didn’t think you were being weird.

“Last thing…” Homelander said, reading off the agenda. “Oh yeah, investor gala this weekend.”

“Great, another ass-kissing convention,” Maeve mumbled.

“Can we make sure shrimp cocktail isn’t served this time?” The Deep asked. “I just feel like—“

Homelander’s jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, do I look like a caterer, Deep? Am I carrying around a silver platter–”

After a few more moments of bickering, Homelander ended the meeting, not without everyone still grumbling under their breath about the gala. No one particularly liked schmoozing over rich assholes, but they made your lucrative paychecks possible, so it was a necessary evil. 

You and Noir hadn’t finished the last round of your game, but when he left, he took the paper with him. 

You sighed. You knew you had it bad for him, but it was tough to gauge his feelings for you when his face was constantly covered by his mask. Even when you blatantly flirted, he seemed unaffected by your advances toward him. Of course you’d fall for this mystery of a man, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Your endeavor was starting to feel hopeless.

“So, when are you gonna make a move on Noir?” Homelander asked, walking out of the meeting room with you. “And don’t give me that ‘we just work together’ bullshit. The tension’s so thick I could laser through it.”

“You can laser through anything.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. “Look, there’s only so long I can take the two of you making heart-eyes at each other. I mean, get a room.”

“He makes heart-eyes at me?” you asked softly.

“Yes, so do something about it already.”

“Maybe at the gala. Everyone’s there to see you, anyway.”

“That’s true. No one would really notice if you and Noir weren’t there,” he said, before giving you a slightly painful pat on the shoulder. “Well, except me if you’re loud enough.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, Homelander.”

You never took his comments like that to heart. You knew you weren’t one of the more interesting members of The Seven, especially compared to the likes of Homelander and Maeve. It was a blessing in disguise, as you ended up stuck doing far less schmoozing than they did. Homelander could hide his disdain for whoever Vought wanted him to entertain for the evening, but on more than one occasion, you’d been on the receiving end of his rant about “pandering to the mud people.”

Noir always showed up to these events, despite not interacting with anyone unless it was to get food. Once in a while, you’d watch as someone tried to start a conversation with him, only to be ignored before awkwardly making an excuse to leave. At least he’d give you the time of day, silently letting you people watch with him, acknowledging your observations about the various guests with a nod, or on rare occasions, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly when you’d said something funny. You always felt especially accomplished then.

The night of the gala was only nerve-wracking because you were finally going to be forward with Noir and see where that got you, rather than your tentative approach in the past. 

When you arrived on the floor where the investor gala was being held, you went through all of the necessary introductions as quickly as you could. Across the room, Black Noir was playing the piano, as he tended to do during crowded events. You’d asked him before where he learned to play, and he wrote simply on a cocktail napkin ‘My grandma.’ As much as he trusted you, there were still parts of himself that were guarded, carefully revealing pieces of his past to you, though you could never fully put the whole picture together. In all the years you were a member of The Seven, you weren’t sure you ever would. 

His past didn’t matter to you. You were fond of the man he was, even if he didn’t reveal his whole self to you. Still, you wished you knew more. He didn’t seem to have any family, at least that he was in contact with. Then again, most of your teammates had complicated relationships with your families, yourself included. That one talent of his, however, showed that at one point there was someone he was close to, that he had a life outside of being a member of The Seven. You hoped the two of you could have that together.

Finally able to slip away from the people whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember, you made your way over to Noir. He looked up from the piano, tilting his head a bit in acknowledgement of you.

“This party’s so boring.” You made a point to lean against the piano, letting the spandex of your suit highlight your body. “I mean, I can think of much better things you and me could be doing with our time.”

You weren’t sure if he was nodding along with your sentiment or the music. Ever so frustratingly difficult to read. Taking his response in stride, you sat down next to him on the piano bench. He didn’t stop playing, but he didn’t move away from you either. 

“Will you show me how to play?” you asked.

He paused, the soft music stopping momentarily. With a nod, he shifted closer to you, placing his gloved hands over yours. You let him guide you, though your gaze was on him rather than the keys. 

“You’re great with your hands, Noir,” you said. “I mean, playing piano, fighting criminals, I’m sure there’s more you can do, if you ever wanna show me sometime.”

No reaction. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Homelander was just messing with you. Maybe—

He rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. It was something, finally some indication that he returned your affection. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked softly. “I only came for you, anyway.”

He took your hand in his, the music from the piano ceasing abruptly again. He brought his pointer finger to his mouth, and you giggled despite his silent instruction to be quiet. 

Glancing around, you noticed everyone else was preoccupied, mainly with competing for Homelander’s attention, as usual. The perfect opportunity for the two of you to slip away from the party with ease. Stealth was his speciality after all. 

You let him lead you away from the gala and to an empty balcony on another floor of the tower. The city seemed to sparkle especially bright that night. Feeling bold, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his.

“I wish we could be like this more often,” you whispered. “You’re the only person I like spending so much time with. I think of you, and I—it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know.”

After a few minutes of silence, Noir moved away from you, reaching for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, the same one the two of you had been playing tic-tac-toe on just a few days earlier. He handed it to you, and you scanned the page before landing on the heart you’d drawn, finding he’d drawn another one around it.

“This is so high school,” you laughed, nevertheless taking his covered face in your hands and kissing him. “So, what do we do now, loverboy?”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh contentedly.

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

☣︎ Adverse Reaction ☣︎- X Virus x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: dubcon

Originally published on AO3, which you can read here if you’d prefer :)

Tags: aphrodisiacs, kidnapping, choking, slapping, degradation, praise, orgasm control & denial, fingering, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie

Summary: You were kidnapped by a mysterious man in a gas mask and now found yourself disoriented and restrained in a sterile lab. Your captor aims to use you as a test subject for a deadly drug, but it may not have the effects he intended.

Words: 6.2k

As always

☣︎ ☣︎ ☣︎all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy☣︎ ☣︎ ☣︎

Okay so I think this may be my fav fic I’ve written like ever???? I had so much fun writing this and I’m really shocked there aren’t more X Virus fics. I made him such a sarcastic little fuck here and I just adore him so much <3

Also like I KNOW I said I would be slower with fics when I posted my last one since I finished posting the ones I’ve had on AO3 for a while but I’ve been working on this one for a couple of months and I really did just finish it

They say humans have an innate ability to know when they’re being watched, something we honed through evolutionary changes in order to protect ourselves.

So when you were walking down the street unable to shake the feeling you were being watched, something told you you needed to get back to your apartment quickly. Something kept creeping into your vision, causing you to whip your neck around, only to find there was nothing there.

“I’m going fucking crazy…” you muttered to yourself, picking up the pace.

You started to feel a few raindrops hit you, because the world just hates you.

Just great.

Only a few seconds passed before it became a torrential downpour. You started to pretty much run to your apartment. You made it to the back door, where you always entered.

You were so frantic, both from the lingering fear and the way you were getting absolutely soaked right now, that you immediately dropped your keys.

Another hand grabbed them before you could. You whipped around barely catching a glance at who picked them up. He was tall with messy brown hair, a black hoodie pulled up over it. He was wearing blue goggles, but they were pushed up onto his head to reveal his eyes. The most notable thing about him was that most of his face was obscured by a gas mask. Your stomach filled with dread at the sight of him.

He pressed you up against the wall, holding a cloth over your mouth. His teal eyes narrowed at you as he held a finger over his mouth, signaling you to be quiet. It was the last thing you saw before everything went dark.

—

You woke up feeling like someone had smashed a brick into your head. You were sitting in a chair, head lolled to the side. When you tried to raise your head, you only felt dizzier. Your eyes seemed to swing across the room, never focusing on anything. The room smelled sterile and was surprisingly well lit, the bright lights only serving to further disorient you.

You tried to move, only to realize you were completely restrained. Your head fell downward, eyes finally focusing on the restraints that held you. They looked medical grade.

Everything about this situation was making you feel worse and worse. You weren’t kidnapped by some random sick fuck. This guy had professional equipment and from what you could make out, a seemingly legitimate place to do it. It being whatever sick shit he planned on doing to you.

You started to pull on the restraints, moving as much as you could, which wasn’t much given how tightly you were bound.

“Don’t struggle. You’ll only waste your energy.” A cold voice made you snap your head up and to the side.

There was a figure standing over by the table, looking preoccupied with something else. Your eyes were still blurry so you couldn’t quite make out what he was doing.

He started to approach you, setting what seemed to be a clipboard down next to you on the table. You whimpered, trying to get out of the restraints even more.

You heard him let out a tired sigh. “Don’t freak out yet. I’m just making sure you’re intact after your little nap.” He then shined a light in your eye, observing your eyes’ reactions before writing it down on his clipboard.

Your eyes finally focused and you were able to see the man in front of you, recognizing him as the guy who had kidnapped you. Those teal eyes were unmistakable. He no longer had a gas mask on, and you could see his whole face clearly now. He was… much more attractive than you would have expected.

“Cause… of the chloroform?” You almost didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, still disoriented.

He immediately burst out into a sick laughter, “Chloroform?! That’s what you think that was?” You didn’t understand what was so funny about that.

“What are you stupid? Watched too many movies?” He asked you rhetorically. When you gave no answer he continued, “Chloroform doesn’t actually make people pass out.”

You were shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor. One second he was cold and flat and now he was acting absolutely insane.

He recollected himself, his voice much calmer. “No, what I gave you was much better than chloroform. It was something I created myself.” He sounded pretty proud of that.

You were unsure of how to react to that. You trembled as you watched his movements. He read over whatever was on his clipboard, clicking his pen a few times before his eyes settled back on you.

“That was the final thing I needed to check before the test. Your blood already came back normal.” His tone had gone back to being flat.

“Blood…?” You looked down at your arms, and sure enough there was a gauze pad and band-aid on your right arm. He had taken it while you were sleeping.

You felt sick. What other things had he done to your body while you were asleep? What the fuck was he even going to do to you?

“Wait… test?” You asked, knowing you really didn’t want to know the answer.

“A new drug I just made myself. You’ll be the first person I try it on.”

“Drug? I don’t have any health issues… I don’t need that.” You said, sounding more desperate as you went on.

“I know you don’t. That’s why you’ll be the perfect test subject. No other conditions to muck up my results. Your death will be purely from this drug.”

Death. He really just said that. You felt like you were going through all the stages of grief at once. You needed to escape. He couldn’t do this to you. You had people that would be looking for you. But you were restrained so tightly and already weakened from whatever he’d already done. It was no use.

Despair washed over your body, pitting in your stomach. You started to tremble violently as the sobs began to wrack through you, tears prickling your eyes before falling into your lap.

He crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Stop crying.” He said in a cold tone, wiping your tears. The action was mechanical and lacked the warmth it would normally entail. “It makes it harder to see the results.”

You watched in horror as he got up, turning to the table beside him before picking up a syringe full of unknown liquid. He pushed a few beads of the liquid out, flicking the syringe to get out any air bubbles before turning back to you. There was a complete lack of emotion on his face.

“Please…!” You cried, squirming as much as you could given how tightly he had you bound. “You don’t have to do this! I won’t tell anyone about this or your experiments if you let me go!”

“Stop squirming!” He raised his voice, anger showing through. “Don’t you know that’ll only make this hurt more?” He asked as if you were stupid.

He cleaned your arm with an alcohol pad, waiting a few seconds for it to dry.

Why even bother cleaning it if he’s gonna kill me anyways?

Your stomach dropped when you realized your death might not be quick. He had only said it would kill you, not that it’d do it instantly. He seemed like the type of sick fuck that would get a kick out of watching you suffer, taking notes on his stupid little clipboard while you die slowly.

You winced slightly as the needle pierced your skin. In seconds he had injected the liquid into your body. Whatever it was, it was too late to do anything about it.

He made some notes on his clipboard, his eyes shifting between you and the paper. He was observing your every move.

I’m just some damn Guinea pig to him…!

Then he started to undo your restraints. You looked at him with bewilderment. He glanced at your face as he shifted to undo the other side. “Try to escape if you must but you should know that in less than a minute you’ll be too weak to do anything.”

Hatred of this man started to boil through you. You hated the fact that he was using you as a goddamn lab rat. You hated his matter of fact tone. You hated his stupid little clipboard. You may be too weak in a minute to escape but you already decided that the second the restraints were fully off, you were going to make a huge mess of this sterile fucking lab. You’d knock over all the vials on the table, all his equipment, anything you could get your hands on was going to end up on his precious white floor.

The final restraint was off and he backed away from you, clearly waiting to see what you’d do so he could document it.

Before you could even attempt to get up, you started feeling the effects of the drug. Your body started to heat up, your heart beating rapidly. Maybe it’d beat so fast you’d go into cardiac arrest and get to die quickly.

You tried to get on your feet, but your legs felt like jelly.

“I told you you’d be too weak to-” He said as you ignored him, trying to push your feet. “And yet you try anyways.” He said, another tired sigh coming from him.

You started to pant, using your arms to push yourself up. He looked surprised you were even able to do that, and then you immediately fell onto the floor.

You were kinda happy about it, honestly. The floor was cold against your skin, which was burning up. You had started to feel a little dizzy too, so nothing like a little horizontal time to fix that.

Then you started to feel the heat radiating from between your legs. It was quickly becoming a more prevalent issue. Your clit was starting to throb, cunt aching, desperate for any type of stimulation.

Now is so not the time.

Just what the fuck had he injected into you?! You thought it was supposed to kill you.

To be fair, it was. Your captor was also standing over you, wondering why you hadn’t died yet. Maybe you were special and it would just take a little longer?

Regardless, he now felt the need to act. He never wanted to interfere with his experiments, but if you were going to grovel on the floor like that then he wouldn’t even get to see your face when you died. That’s like… the best part.

So he figured he might as well get you up and on the table, makes it easier to do the autopsy later anyways.

“Hey, get up.” He lightly tapped you with his shoe.

You didn’t respond to him. While playing dead surely wasn’t your best strategy, you couldn’t get up even if you wanted to.

He groaned and grabbed your arm, trying to pull it over his shoulder to get you up. You were so limp that once he got you all the way up, you swung forward, crashing into his chest.

“Jesus…” he groaned, clearly annoyed by having to hold you up. He was struggling to get the right grip on you. Clearly he didn’t often deal with live people.

Finally, he settled on one arm around your thighs and the other around your waist, awkwardly dragging you to the table. Your face was buried in his neck, your whole body leaning into him.

This type of hold wasn’t doing you any favors given your current issue.

You felt so hazy. Your thoughts were racing and yet none of them seemed to make any sense. The thoughts that were ringing out the loudest though, were the ones about your captor holding you right now. His skin was so warm and he smelled so good and he was so close and… you just had the urge to bite him. It was a light bite, one that more resembled an act of seduction rather than self defense. He let out a slight groan, but this time instead of one of annoyance it was a sound that was congruent with your action.

He slammed you down on the table by your shoulders, his face inches from yours. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You looked up at him, panting and flushed. He was pissed. Not much to do about it though, and also not much to fear anyways, you’d be dead either way.

He looked over your face, no doubt trying to analyze the meaning of your action. The confusion was evident. You didn’t blame him though, your actions were completely illogical. Even you couldn’t explain why you had just done that.

But the more he stared at you, the more you ached. You tried to subtly rub your legs together, any amount of friction would help sate you, you hoped. His eyes immediately caught the action, then flickered right back to your face.

It was funny really, watching a guy as intelligent as him slowly put the pieces together. It was like you could see the little hamster inside his brain start running faster on its wheel.

He grabbed your chin, pulling your face down to meet his eyes more. He was still scanning over you, like he was trying to solidify his conclusion.

Lightly, he used his thumb to press on your lower lip. He was testing the waters. Your mouth immediately fell open for him, and you ran your tongue over his thumb, sucking it into your mouth.

Immediately, his face went fully red. That didn’t seem to be the reaction he had expected. “What is wrong with you?!”

You too wondered that. This guy had kidnapped you, drugged you, and now all you could think of was how badly you were aching to have his cock stretch you.

“This wasn’t- did I make a mistake…?” He questioned himself. Well at the very least, you were glad this wasn’t intentional.

But at this point whether or not it was intentional didn’t really matter anymore. You pressed your thighs together even more, trying anything to sate the dull ache you felt between your legs.

The motion caught his attention again, and his eyes stayed fixated there for a moment, before slowly making their way up your body, to the dip of your waist, passing over the curve of your breasts, until his eyes stopped again, right at your mouth where you were still sucking on his thumb. You felt like he needed a little push, so you grabbed his arm with both of your hands, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and pulling two of his fingers in. You looked him in the eye as you ran your tongue under them and sucked.

It was just then when he got the most vile smirk on his face. The most emotion you’d seen him show thus far, aside from that little outburst when you had dared to call his precious work chloroform.

He leaned in closer to your face. “You want me to touch you?” His voice was so smug you wanted to rip out his vocal cords. It was his fault you were even like this, even if it was apparently an accident.

Your hatred showed on your face and he was just eating it up. “You do don’t you?” You kept your mouth around his fingers, not wanting to give him what he wanted. Yes, you would entice him but you drew the line at verbally begging him to fuck you.

“Not going to talk, huh?” He pulled his hand away from your mouth, moving it to grab a strand of your hair. “Let’s try a little experiment then.” He said, letting your hair slip out of his fingers.

He let his fingers lightly run over the skin of your neck, causing your whole body to jolt and shiver. Your panting got louder. You grabbed his hand, holding it in yours.

“Hmm. How interesting.” He sounded way too smug.

“Fix whatever you did to me.” You squeezed his hand tighter.

“Nothing intentional, since that’s what you’re implying.” His teal eyes met yours, and you could see the lust growing in him. “You just seem to be having an interesting reaction to the drug.”

He suddenly grabbed your face, tilting your chin up to look at you again. “But you’re being quite demanding aren’t you? What makes you think you deserve to be touched?”

You were so desperate at this point, writhing around on his table. “Please…” your voice sounded whiny and pathetic. “Please just help me.”

“Aww, that’s better.” He squeezed your face a little harder before letting go, turning to the table next to him and grabbing a pair of scissors.

“Wait…!” You practically screamed, bracing for the blades coming your way.

“Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?” He said as he cut through the fabric of your shirt. “Spare me the dramatics.”

Once your shirt was fully cut open in the front, he pulled the remainder of the fabric off of you, leaving you in just a bra.

He cupped his hands over your breasts. “Aww, this is cute. I’ll let you keep this for now.” He picked up the scissors again and cut through your bottoms, leaving your panties intact.

He trailed his hand down your body, his cold fingers making you shiver once again. He suddenly hooked his fingers into your panties and yanked them down. They were already so soaked there was a line of your arousal still connected to them. “No resistance? Wow, I guess you really are that desperate.”

If only he would shut the fuck up this would be perfect. He was being so annoying, but you had to keep your mouth shut, can’t give him a reason to be even more of a dick.

He pushed your legs apart, your arousal clinging to your thighs, a sticky mess all stemming from your aching cunt. He was completely entranced by it. “Fuck…” He cursed under his breath before letting his eyes drift back to yours. Your hips bucked up, shamelessly wanting him to just touch you already.

“Ohhhhh, you need it bad, don’t you, darling?” The use of a pet name was only scornful coming from his lips. He was taunting you, trying to make this more humiliating than it already was. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that his own control was waning. Maybe… just a little bit more enticement from your end and you could get him to snap and give you what you really wanted.

But you sure as hell still weren’t going to beg him… more than you already had. You slowly ran your hand down your body, along your curves and toward your cunt. Just as you got past your stomach, he grabbed your hand, slamming your wrist down onto the table above you.

“You’re that desperate you’ll touch yourself right in front of me?” He asked rhetorically, not even giving you a chance to answer. “That’s the most pathetic display I think I’ve seen in a while. I kind of want to take pity on you.”

His free hand snaked down to your cunt, just barely brushing over your clit. Your hips immediately bucked up and you let out a strangled whine. Just that tiny touch sent electricity all throughout your body.

He was entranced by your reaction to his touch. “Tell me, are you always this sensitive, or are you really that affected by the drug?”

Your brain was already going hazy, so you didn’t hesitate to answer him. “I’m not… usually like this.”

He brushed his fingers over your clit again, this time with just a bit more pressure, but still not nearly enough to sate you. You let out another needy whine.

“Amazing. It’s like you’re in heat.” He was becoming increasingly satisfied with the drug’s effects on you.

“I just know my fingers are gonna slide in your sopping wet cunt easily.” He pushed two long slender fingers into your cunt, as deeply as he could.

You arched off the table, hips bucking to try to feel him even deeper. “Fuck….!” You moaned out. You could feel every inch of his fingers against the inside of your cunt. Even without moving it was driving you crazy, the drug was making it feel so fucking good.

He let out a low groan, loving the way you were squeezing around his fingers already. “You fucking love this don’t you? Huh?”

“C’mon, tell me how much you love it.” His eyes suddenly went dark. “Tell me you fucking love it or I’m not moving my fingers.”

You could barely register what he was saying, your head already going fuzzy just from having his fingers inside. “I… love it…” you managed to breathe out.

“Oh, that wasn’t very convincing.” He started moving his fingers at an unbearably slow pace. “You’ll have to beg with a little more conviction than that if you want it.”

He was barely moving his fingers at all, and yet it felt so fucking good you had to bite your lip as hard as you could to keep from moaning loud enough for the entire country to hear.

Each stroke of his fingers was making you tighten more and more. Your arousal dripping out of you and onto the table, making obscene gushing noises each time he pushed his fingers back in.

“Faster…” you whimpered, feeling miserably pathetic. “I need it…”

He grabbed your face, tilting it upwards. “Still so demanding. You think you deserve this? You think you deserve me fucking you with my fingers?”

He stopped his fingers entirely, and yet just the feel of them inside you was causing your stomach to tighten, electricity shooting through your body, all to one place.

The pressure built and built, not even giving you time to say anything before you were already convulsing around his fingers, your cunt buzzing with pleasure. It was harder than you had ever come before. It felt like you were coming in slow motion, squeezing him hard and long each time your cunt convulsed.

He groaned when he felt you squeezing around his fingers. He couldn’t even come up with a way to taunt you. All of his attention was redirected to how tight his pants felt and the way his cock throbbed harder and harder each time your muscles tightened.

He was completely enraptured by you. Consumed with the need to touch you, to make you writhe and moan and bend to his will. He was already aching to fuck you but he knew he couldn’t give into his desires too soon. It would be a waste. He needed to know more about the drug’s effects. He needed to test it. He was way too into this, his only way to justify it was to call it an experiment.

“I didn’t even move my fingers and you came?” He was laughing, in awe of how easy that was. He was impressed with himself for making a drug that was able to affect you this much. Even if it was by accident.

You were still reeling, because, well he still hadn’t removed his fingers from you.

He got an evil smile on his face, downright diabolical. Your eyes widened a bit in fear. Whatever he was thinking it couldn’t be good.

“Surely, you understand. I made this drug by accident but…” he took a long pause, purposefully keeping you in suspense, drinking in the fear in your eyes. “It would be a waste to not test all the effects of the drug. I’ll need to collect as much data as possible.”

Without removing his fingers from you, he brought his thumb up to press on your clit. Your body jolted, back arched and trying to cling at anything under you, only for your hands to scramble at the cold table below you.

“So reactive.” He purred, starting to rub your clit in tight circles while he slowly pushed his fingers in and out. “Such a good whore.”

Your cunt twitched when you heard his words, already wanting to come again, craving it more than anything else.

“Oh, you liked that did you?” He leaned down, getting closer to your face again. “You like being called a whore.”

All you could do was shake your head, biting your lip hard enough to make it bleed to avoid moaning for him.

“No?” His voice was mocking. “You don’t like it? You don’t like being called a whore?” He started pounding your pussy with his fingers. “You don’t like it when I talk to you like the dirty fucking slut you are?”

Your stomach was tightening again. You could try to deny it verbally all you wanted, but each time he called you a whore you got closer and closer to the edge until you broke again. It felt so good, too good even. You felt like you were losing your mind.

He could feel you coming again, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to see just how far he could push you. What would your reaction be? Would you break and beg him to fuck you? Would you have tears running down your pretty face as you spread your legs wide for him?

“I can tell you’re coming again. You still wanna act like you don’t like being called a whore?”

You weakly gripped his arm that was pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. “Please…. I can’t stop-”

“I don’t care that you can’t stop coming. Be honest. You like being called a whore.”

You shook your head again, a strangled moan escaping you when he pressed on your clit even harder. “Yeah, you like it. Nod your head and admit you like being called a whore. Nod your pretty little head.”

You began to nod your head weakly.

“That’s it. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He shoved your bra up with his free hand, wasting no time latching onto your nipple and sucking hard. All the while, he was still moving his fingers.

Somehow it felt even better, and you wanted him to never stop. The feeling was addictive. Your body felt so different than usual. You were insatiable.

“Fuck…! Sso good…” your words started slurring, your brain feeling fuzzy. You were like a fountain, each thrust of his fingers causing more of your arousal to spill out of you.

He let go of your chest to wrap his hand around your neck. “You’re hopeless, you know that? Just a pathetic, helpless little girl who can’t help but get wetter and wetter. Cause I’m fucking you with my fingers, isn’t that right?”

You started to choke and gasp for air, but it only made your cunt tingle.

“I could fucking kill you right now. Do you get that? Do you even have a brain up there in that pretty little head?” His sharp eyes bore into your glazed ones, trying to fight from rolling them back.

“Don’t…. sstop.” You moaned out in a choked voice.

He laughed in amazement at your state. “Is this all you care about?” He said, pushing against your g-spot extra hard. “You don’t even care if I kill you.”

He was being so cruel, so awful, and yet it only felt better and better. A huge orgasm finally hit you and you felt a gushing heat release from you.

Watching you come so hard from being choked and threatened made his cock throb, a screaming reminder of how painfully hard he was. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He quickly unbuckled his belt, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. You eyed him while he pulled out his cock, dripping onto the table in anticipation.

You found yourself craving the cock of the guy who kidnapped you. More than you’ve ever craved anything before. Consequences be damned. You needed this.

He needed it too. You could see it on his face, just how worked up you were making him. It made you want him even more.

He ran his hot hard cock up your slit, coating himself in your wetness. He bit his lip, trying to stifle his groan. He ran it over your clit a few times just to tease you before pushing into your entrance.

He took a deep breath, pushing in slowly. Your cunt was sucking him in and it felt so good, but he didn’t want you to realize how much you were affecting him.

Meanwhile, the stretch of him was putting you into a state of euphoria. You could feel his thick cock throbbing inside of you.

He pulled back slowly, letting you feel every inch leave and the emptiness that followed. It only lasted for a split second before he rammed back into you, setting a brutal pace.

You spread your legs wider, addicted to the feeling. You’d already came so many times and yet you weren’t satisfied. You needed it again.

Your body was starting to tense, quickly gaining the feeling again.

“Are you about to come already?” He asked aggressively, while you were completely fucked out, only able to focus on the feeling of his cock. “Hey.” He growled out, his voice sounding low and gritty. “Don’t you dare come again, you’ve came enough.”

You whimpered, knowing that he was fully serious. “What?” You whined. “But- I can’t- I just-” There were tears brimming in your eyes. “Please?” Your voice became whinier as you frantically tried to get permission.

“Look at me.” He demanded. “I control when you come. Understand? You only come when I allow you to.”

You tried. You really did. But his cock was hitting just the right spot, over and over. “Please. Please just let me-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as your orgasm washed over you.

He felt you tightening around him, reveling in the feeling as he stopped moving. However, he was angry. Pissed even. You weren’t able to follow even the simplest of instructions.

He pulled out, yanking you up and pushing you to your knees on the floor. He grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him as he towered over you. “You think you just get to come whenever you want? You think just because you’re a little pretty I’ll go easy on you?”

He spoke again before you could even try to explain yourself. “You’re no better than a fucking animal.”

He pressed down on your lower lip. “Open.” His authoritative tone left no room for disobedience. You obliged, taking his cock in your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded.

You could taste yourself on his cock as you started bobbing your head. It was humiliating and yet… you were only getting wetter, dripping onto the floor. He was right, you were acting like an animal.

“Does sucking my cock make you that wet?” He laced his fingers into your hair, forcing you down on his cock. “Fuck… you look so good.”

You gagged on his cock, tears brimming in your eyes but you still made eye contact with him. “You’re acting like a perfect little slut right now.”

“Do you wanna come?” He taunted. “Why don’t you use your own fingers? Slide your little fingers into your cunt while you choke on my cock.”

You hesitated, not sure if he was really going to let you. Your fingers lightly brushed over your clit, causing you to moan on his cock. You needed to come.

“Yeah, fuck yourself with your fingers.” He encouraged. “Make yourself come while you suck me off. You have my permission.”

You filled yourself with your fingers, moaning when you hit your g-spot. Your fingers weren’t as long and thick as his, but it would have to do.

He groaned when you moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him shiver.

He was fucking your throat at this point, his tight grip in your hair almost as painful as his cock hitting the back of your throat, but you could barely feel it. The pain was insignificant compared to the way your cunt was tingling. Both your drool and your arousal were dripping onto the floor.

“Look at how messy you are.” He laughed. “You look like such a whore right now.”

You kept pumping your fingers into your pussy hard, desperate to come again.

“C’mon you can do better than that. Show me how much you want it. Grind your little pussy on your hand and come.” You obeyed, bucking your hips forward to reach deeper inside yourself.

With his permission, you released around your fingers. He pulled out of your mouth, getting too close to coming himself.

“You thought you could make me come in your mouth?” He pulled you back up onto the table. “If I’m coming anywhere, it’ll be inside your cute little cunt.” He pushed inside of you with no warning.

“That’s what you want isn’t it? You want me to come inside your pathetic pussy? You want me to make a mess out of you?” He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Nod your head. You answer when I ask you a question.”

You nodded your head, your cunt becoming numb with pleasure. Your head felt like TV static as he pounded you again.

“You want me to use you huh? This is what you want. You want me to fucking break you.” He kept rambling on. “Look at your dumb fucking face. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

You had but a moment of sentience. Enough to try to say anything to put him in his place. “Well what- fuck….! ….about you? You’re not even on a drug.” You panted heavily in between your words. “You’re fucking me because you want to.”

He slapped you across the face. “Shut your whore mouth.” The look in his eyes alone was enough to make you wish you were dead.

Your bones chilled like ice and you remembered why you should fear this man.

He gripped your throat, his eyes piercing into your very soul. “You think I like this as much as you do? You think I need this as much as you do?”

You were stunned to silence, only able to make sounds of pleasure.

“You think you can manipulate me like this? You think this will make me want to let you go?” His cock was slamming into you hard. “I will never. Fucking. Let. You. Go.” Each word was punctuated with his cock pounding into you.

“You’ve given me a new obsession I hope you know.” He was sounding more and more insane as he went on. “I’m going to keep you and test more of these on you over and over until you fucking break.”

“Ahh, fuck, you wrap around me so good.” He growled. “You’re gonna make me fucking come inside you.”

You were so high off his cock that really anything he was saying to you was just noise to you. Nothing else really mattered if you could get him to keep fucking you.

“Kiss me…”

“You want a kiss? That’s all you want?” He leaned down, joining his lips with yours as he fucked you at a slow steady pace. His tongue intertwined with yours sloppily.

He pulled away after a few moments, panting heavily. His thrusts were getting erratic and you knew he was close to coming.

“God… your fucking cunt is perfect.” He buried his face in your neck, his voice cracking as he pulled your body closer to his, your chests pressing against each other.

“Come for me again. Be my good girl. Please.” He almost whimpered, your cunt already milking his cock, begging for his cum.

He bit down on your neck as he came inside, making a mess of your cunt.

It was only then, that with him panting on top of you, holding you close, that you finally felt satisfied.

—

You were sitting in the lab, curled up contently in the corner. It’s where you spent most of your time these days. There were other places to go but why would you want to be anywhere where Cody wasn’t?

Plus, he didn’t really mind it. You were his precious lab assistant after all.

You tried to keep up with what he was working on, but most of the time his thoughts were a little too all over the place to follow. So you were happy with just being in each other’s presence, occasionally glancing up to watch him work on his projects.

He suddenly stood up, catching your attention. He turned towards you with a telling smile on his face.

“I’ve got something for you.”

“Is that why you’ve been up for days?” You asked. He had the tendency to get a little too invested in this work, skipping regular meals and sleeping.

He dodged the question, pulling out his latest creation. “This time, it’s a pill. Since you always complain about the needle.”

You stuck your tongue out, eagerly waiting for him to give it to you. He smiled at you, placing it on his tongue and connecting his lips with yours.

You swallowed the pill, already eager about its effects.

He towered over where you were sitting, lifting your chin up. “Let’s get started.”

Like okay MEOW like I made him so sassyyyy what. Like when I was going back and editing this I was like omg Cody stopppppppp~ He's very different from any of the other characters, like I feel like he's not quite as impulsive as Jeff or Toby so he wouldn't like immediately try to fuck you. Like this man would have every intent to kill you. That's why it was so fun to write him slowly devolving and losing control like I had the time of my life with this one.

Feel free to leave me feedback/constructive criticism in the comments! I always love seeing people's thoughts!

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality

[cottonlemonade]

Dracula And His Damsel

word count: 1135 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kyotani x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni, suggestive

request: watching Nightmare Before Christmas with pumpkin-spice, dressed as a tomato with Kyotani || fluffy-spicy, Halloween costume shopping with boyfriend Kyotani

Only through the power of undying love was Kyotani able to cross the threshold of the costume parlor. After weeks of hints decreasing in subtlety by the day, had he agreed to a couple’s costume for this year’s Halloween party under the condition that it would be nothing too out there or embarrassing. Even though, in all honesty, you could have asked him to wear a dress and he would have, just to see you smile.

“How about this one?”, you asked, holding up a picture of the Barbie movie on your phone, “You’re halfway there already. You’re hot, blond and your name is Kentaro.”

You giggled at your own joke and it turned into a full laugh when you saw his unimpressed expression.

“Let’s make this quick, alright?”

“Ah ah ah, good things take time, babe. Now, what are you in the mood for? Something dangerous? Creepy? Funny? Sexy?” With each new word, you pulled a different costume from the rack.

Your boyfriend raised a brow at the last piece. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“The Phantom of the Opera. A classic…”, you sighed dreamily, “And pretty simple. I just need a fancy ball gown for my part. Wanna try it on?”

“I’m good.”, he replied, disinterested, “Let’s get that one and leave.”

You hit him with the big doe eyes - a trick that had yet to fail its effect.

“But I wanna see how it looks beforehand. Please~?”

Today was no different.

“Fine…” Snatching the cloak and mask from you, he let you usher him to the spacious changing rooms - no wonder they were so big, considering some costumes were made to be worn by two people.

Five minutes later you brushed the curtain to the side to inspect. Kyotani flinched, needlessly trying to cover himself even though he was fully dressed.

“Ya can’t just come in here, ya know?”

“Says who?”, you replied and began brushing along the cloak and fixing his collar, “You look so handsome… even more so than usual.”

It was no use pretending that he didn’t love your praise. Years of pathetically crushing on you, followed now by months of clumsily being a boyfriend for the very first time had taught him that when it came to you, anything was his weakness. And your warm hands running over his chest, combined with sweet talk ensured he would stay in this dressing room until closing time if you told him to.

Reaching out of the curtain for a moment, you produced another hanger with a - to him - absolutely identical costume you found.

“If the phantom isn’t it, how about we go with another classic? Draculaaaa~”

“And who would you be?”

“Well…”, you said, tapping your finger thoughtfully on your chin, “I could either be some woman you seduce ooor maybe a vampire huntress?”

He hated how that idea made him blush and he was even more embarrassed when you noticed.

“Oh? You like the idea? Well, say no more! Imma grab a dress.” And with that, you wooshed out of the changing room.

A little while later, while he was tying the black and red cape, you slipped back through his curtain.

“Could you please help me with the corset, baby?”

“The c-…”

You would 100% be the death of him. It was only a matter of time.

Part of the reason he fell for you in the first place was that you were the exact opposite of him, bright and friendly, definitely something people would call approachable. And where he was considered lean and lanky, you were soft and rounded. This had led to many many afternoons of him bringing you home after a date and not being able to stop when you kissed him Goodnight because the feeling of your warm chub between his cold fingers was more addictive than anything he’d ever experienced.

“Babe?”, you asked when he could only stare.

“Hm?”

“The corset?”

“Right.”

You smiled and turned your back to him expectantly.

He examined the laces.

“Uhm… what… what do I do?”

“It’s kinda like putting on shoes, just tighten it a little. Not too much though, I like to breathe.”

The knowledge that he could hurt you in this situation if he did something wrong, made him hesitate but with a bit more encouragement (praise) he finished the job in no time.

“What do you think?”

You tilted your head a little, meeting his eyes in the large mirror.

“Pretty.”, he said, clearing his throat. His eyes had dropped down and landed on your breasts, plump and on display with the corset.

Obviously, you caught him looking. “Yeah?”, you teased, “Let’s take a picture. I wanna try something.”

You turned to the side, leaning your back against the wall, and pulled out your phone.

He stood there, waiting for instructions.

“Come here and pretend to bite my neck.”

And there was that stupid blush again. He stepped closer and opened his mouth as wide as he could, hovering over that sensitive bit of skin that usually made you so… noisy when you were alone. The camera clicked and he straightened, waiting for your verdict.

“Hm.”, you said, “It doesn’t look quite right.” You turned the screen so he could see. He looked very very stiff but that was his default in any pictures to be fair. He only had two modes. Stiff or glaring - already a huge upgrade from his high school days.

“Maybe this time try putting your hand here - yes, like that, the other there - perfect - and when you lean in, maybe just kiss my neck but with a bit more teeth.”

A truly terrible idea as he came to realize soon enough. The smell of your perfume and feeling of your warmth had him entranced and he could only vaguely hear you taking one picture after another.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

Only a small eternity later did he hear you gasp his name.

He moved in even closer, pressing his body against you, and automatically slotted his leg between yours.

His sharp incisors raked over your skin, making you shudder in his arms.

You brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders, steadying yourself as he continued to kiss, touch, and grind.

A large calloused hand came up to your breasts but with the corset, it was impossible to grab. He focused on his thigh pushing up to your core, groaning with frustration at that piece of impenetrable fabric keeping him from feeling heaven.

“Excuse me? Sir? Miss? What are you doing?”, the voice of the store clerk rang through the curtain and burst the hot bubble you were in.

“We’re almost out.”, you replied, decidedly croaky sounding.

Suddenly glad for the robes hiding his otherwise very prominent problem, Kyotani panted quietly, “We should get these ones.”

art: @_geolatte on Twitter

a/n: request for @rosetakemi

Thank you very much for your request! Ngl I thought I would struggle a whole lot more writing for him but it was actually really fun! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

That concludes the Halloween event. Thank you so so much to everyone who participated, liked, commented, and reblogged. While the event was going on I surpassed 1000 followers and I can’t wrap my head around that. That’s so many of you!!! The next event will be a much simpler one that I had planned since… like May, but always kept pushing back because I thought of other things xD

[luigilore]

hii it’s vershautece im saying this here so hopefully as many of u as possible can see this!! so i should’ve said at least something before i left lol but when i took a week hiatus last month i came back earlier than i wanted to bc of temptation, and i didn’t want that to happen this time because i’m genuinely done, and that’s why i just clicked deactivate without looking back lol.

instantly i realized how bad that might look bc it could look like i’d been doxxed or that i was in a bad place mentally bc of what was happening, and that’s why like 30 min later i came back on using a diff account to see what ppl were saying, and then i spoke to 3 blogs on here privately. but i’ll explain now why i left and why im not coming back.

it was absolutely nothing to do with the twitter stuff, like not in the slightest. i didn’t even look at what they were saying except from the first thing that was posted - all i knew was what u guys were telling me in my inbox. what actually made me leave was i just suddenly realized i was arguing with people soooo much, like every 2 days because i always wanna say whatever i want and get my points across😭. but i realized while i find these debates and arguments amusing (+ i genuinely do lol, what ppl say online has absolutely no effect on me bc u don’t know me irl) it also was just becoming exhausting regarding how it would be taking time out of my day, and more specifically not even just arguments but also my inbox in general! i get at least 50 asks a day and i welcome them and even encourage more lol but it was making me procrastinate so much and then also i’d a lot of the time feel bad if i didnt reply to some. so, when all that shit was happening the other day it just made me realize that blog wasn’t serving me. it was fun, but it’s like an addiction being on here lol. im glad you guys miss me and i miss you all too :)) but there r so many great blogs on here and another thing is i do feel like without my constant debates w ppl you guys are gonna feel a lot calmer on here😭

RE the racism stuff, there is absolutely nothing i can do to prove i didn’t send that ask to taelophone - all i can do is tell you that i didn’t, and i’m not even gonna say anything else, there’s no point.

mandy and palmersluvr have spoken on behalf of me and said everything i wanna say perfectly <3 i felt sick to my stomach when i saw ppl believing that was me, and now i realize there’s nothing more to say, because it wasn’t me, and if u don’t believe that then im not interested in trying to convince you otherwise! all i cared about was my fave blogs on here knowing the truth

!!^^

[bluemoonscape]

Hear me out: Sua and Luka parallels.

In Ruler of My Heart, they're most directly compared and contrasted in this frame including both the real world and Mizi's perception. Here, they both look angelic, something other than human, greater than human due to their purity. They're framed by the moon, something only to be seen when shined on by another.

Both are treated in a manner that strikes the viewer as distinctly different from the other kids. They're all treated as less than human in different ways, but Sua and Luka are the ones specifically treated as dolls. Dolls to be played with, dolls to be moved limb by limb and joint by joint as its superior wishes. They're made to look perfect. They're made to look clean, so clean they look inhuman.

They're perfect narrative foils. Nigeh owns several pet humans who all have the same black hair, white bonnets and fluffy shirts. All girls, all a carbon copy of one another. Perhaps they're sisters, even? And if they're all sisters, there's no possible way they could have been born naturally.

This connects to the widely accepted theory of Luka being made in a lab, artificially rather than organically. They were quite possibly both born unnaturally and were raised to be just as unnatural. Both of them seem rather blank in Anakt Garden. Luka is very solemn and unanimated; the most alive he ever looks in Anakt Garden is at the scene of Hyunwoo's death after Luka presumably killed him. He may exist, but he is not alive. In a metaphorical sense, Luka's life is taken from him every day. His heart is literally under Heperu's constant control, to be stopped and started at will. He is a blank slate for Heperu to use for his own glory. The main change we see in him from his years in Anakt Garden to his time in Alien Stage is how he presents himself. In Anakt Garden, he's fairly meek and stoic. In Alien Stage, he's projecting the idol image the world wants to see from him, the one Heperu has conditioned him to display with nothing short of perfection. He is no more alive in Alien Stage than Anakt Garden simply because he's putting on an act. If anything, this lack of authenticity further deadens him.

Sua, though? Despite Sua's upbringing, she is alive when she and Mizi My Clematis together. She's quite possibly more alive than she's ever been. Just like Luka, she's been dressed in white, made to look like a doll, a blank slate, and yet she is anything but, and she proves it by quietly sacrificing herself for Mizi and (as another post put it) an insurance on Mizi's love. Sua could've ended up exactly like Luka. She could have been made to be the villain, the face of Alien Stage, the lifeless marionette. She could have been Luka, but she isn't. Why?

This scene. This scene is why.

I always took the pink tendrils reaching through the glass between them as a metaphor for Mizi's life and love pouring into Sua, putting life into her. Mizi is so vibrant, so alive, and she loves Sua, of all people. Lifeless, blank Sua, or so she thought. But Mizi saw the life in her. She saw her and she saw someone worth loving. Worth worshiping.

Sua was made alive the moment she saw Mizi. This is the moment her life began.

But then, why couldn't Hyuna's effect on Luka breathe life into him, too? Why couldn't Luka's arc diverge due to this love like Sua?

The thing is, Hyuna did make him feel alive. Just like Mizi, she was so full of life that it was impossible for him not to feel even a hint of something in her presence. Maybe she made him feel real, just for once in his life. Just for once.

But he warped Hyuna's love into something it wasn't.

He warped her love into something Hyuna had no intention of giving to anyone: Her life. Just once had to last, so he tried his hardest to hold onto her with a tight fist. When Hyunwoo threatened to come between Hyuna and Luka and take her life away from Luka, Luka, in some way, shape, or form, dealt with the threat. As I said, the most alive he ever looked in Anakt Garden was in the aftermath of Hyunwoo's death, and I believe this is because he thought he'd secured Hyuna's life for himself. Now my life is yours, and your life is mine.

It could've happened to Sua too, under different circumstances. Mizisua could've been just as twisted and toxic as Hyuluka. She could've fallen into the same mindset as Luka: Your life is mine.

She didn't. Instead, she had the awareness that Mizi wanted to give Sua her life, and she said no. With her death, she put Mizi's life back in her hands where it belonged and made her, as much as Mizi fought against it, live for herself. The difference in the way Sua sings Ruler of My Heart in her cover really highlights this. Opposite to Luka's cool, condescending control over the lyrics and the subject of the song, every word Sua sings is from her heart. Mizi is the ruler of her heart, and she does want to give everything to her out of pure, unconditional love.

Sua's love saved her. It elevated her not to something inhuman and unnatural (untouched by feeling) but to humanity.

Luka's love took whatever humanity he had left of him.

Sua is the moon under the sun's glow, and Luka is left in the dark.