#do let me know if you think any of these are wrong

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"I don't understand. Why isn't he getting up?"

"Wh- you killed him!"

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"You cast Finger of Death!"

"I cast Lightning Bolt too; they name spells after fake shit all the time."

"Lightning is real too!!"

"Oh come on. Next you'll be telling me color is a thing."

"...have you ever actually been outside this cavern?"

"What's a cavern?"

"It's where we are right now!"

"Odd name for it, but yes, of course I have. Been this way, that way, through there is a lovely group of giant spiders..."

"We, ah. Might have killed those on our way here."

"Don't be silly, death isn't real."

"...right. Where do you think we came from?"

"Eh, somewhere. Weird shit shows up all the time."

"I-"

"Oh! Your friend there startled me and it totally slipped my mind; would you care for some tea? I don't drink it myself, but I keep some on hand for guests."

"...okay, listen. These are the Caverns of Chaos. Everything in here is self-replenishing. The prevailing theory was that they existed to protect a central chamber. We've spent weeks down here slogging through unimaginable horrors to make it there and you're going to, what, play dumb?"

"Okay now you're just being rude. I am not dumb! There might not be much to do around here, but I do my best to keep my mind sharp. I'd like to see you figure out as much as I have about the ever-shifting layout of the world!"

"We did! That's how we got here! Have you never tried scrying the outside?"

"Scrying spells are some sort of prank, best I can tell; they never seem to do anything except give me a headache."

"Cast one up."

"I don't really want to give myself a-"

"Just do it! At least 2000 meters."

"Alright, but I don't see...what..."

"..."

"...colors?"

"Yeah, the whole dungeon is monochrome for some reason, we think-"

"Lightning?"

"Well, if there's a storm, I suppose-"

"Death?"

"...death?"

"There's...more like your friend."

"What do you mean-"

"Why aren't they moving?"

"I don't-"

"I'm moving. I can move. See? They look like me. Why aren't they moving?"

"They're- there are skeletons? We just came from-"

"Am I going to stop moving?"

"No, you-"

"Why isn't your friend moving?"

"..."

"...he's...'dead'. Isn't he. I 'killed' him."

"...listen, just calm down, we can-"

"Oh, yes, of course! I could never figure out what these spells for making 'un-dead' were for, but they must be for fixing this! I'll just-"

"NO!"

"But he's-"

"We're handling it!"

"No you're not! Whatever you're doing, it's not working."

"How can you-"

"You're trying to draw power from something that's not there. I've done it a few times, don't feel bad, it's a common mistake."

"I'm drawing power from my goddess! There's no way she's..."

"What is a goddess? Is it that little symbol you're carrying around? It doesn't seem to have any power in it."

"...it...why can't I feel her?"

"Just let me do it, I can-"

"We're not letting you turn Steve into some kind of undead abomination!"

"Wh- but he wasn't dead before!"

"He was alive, you stupid thing!"

"Right, not dead. Un-dead. I'll just make him un-dead again and then we can..."

"Why has she forsaken me?"

"We can..."

"Why won't she answer??"

"Color...lightning...death..."

audible weeping

"They're like me...why aren't they moving?"

"It's probably just the Caves messing with the divine connection, we should-"

"Should I not be moving?"

extended wailing

"Is un-dead not like 'alive'?"

"Listen, I know we didn't have this problem before, but-"

"Is there something wrong with being un-dead?"

"OF COURSE THERE IS, YOU STUPID UNDEAD THING! STEVE IS DEAD, THE GODDESS WON'T LISTEN TO ME, AND YOU'RE JUST...just..."

"...just what?"

"..."

"What am I?"

"..."

"WHAT AM I???"

the cavern shakes

"Listen, just calm down, we'll-"

"Why is he dead? Why are they all dead?"

"All wh-"

"The ones you made me scry on!"

"Oh my god, we forgot about-"

"Why aren't they moving??"

"We don't know! What else did you see?"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"What else??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the lich collapses into a fetal position, rocking back and forth

"Listen, this is important, you need to-"

someone attempts to shake the lich. A sudden pulse of darkness slams them into the opposite wall.

"Colors, lightning, death..."

"Just calm down, we can-"

"GODDESS? WHERE ARE YOU??"

"Colors, lightning, death..."

the party leader buries her face in her hands. The healer weeps and wails. The lich, seemingly catatonic, continues mumbling to himself. This goes on for a while.

"..."

"Right. Okay. That's enough of this. We're taking Steve's body and leaving. We wouldn't have a chance against a lich in this state anyway. Keep trying to revive him as we go, we'll-"

"...lich?"

"Yes, yes, you don't know anything about anything, it's very funny, har har, we're done here. Go back to giving yourself headaches or whatever it is you do all day."

"I'm coming with you."

"...what?"

"You know what I am. You know about places that aren't 'caverns'. You know about colors, lightning, and death. I need to come with you."

"No offence, buddy, but you don't exactly seem like adventuring material."

"Please! Don't you need to find out why all those people are...'dead'? I can speak with dead, I guess, if it's a real thing."

"..."

"We are not taking this THING that killed Steve with us!"

"...we probably are going to need help with whatever is going on up there."

"He might be lying!"

the party leader gestures at the utterly guileless lich. The healer turns away.

"...fine."

"Thank you."

"Just...keep him away from me."

The party improvises a stretcher as the lich gathers up his meager possessions. A thick silence reigns as the group shuffles out the only exit, the lich awkwardly following at a distance.

"Wait, I forgot my maps-"

"We'll be fine. Just stay back there, okay? You've caused enough trouble for one day."

Nodding hesitantly, the lich steps over the threshold, leaving his cavern for the last time.

It turns out that the lich the adventurers had been hired to slay had never actually killed anyone before until the impulsive paladin of the group swung first. Now, as the healer tries to revive them, the rest have to calm the ancient undead mage down from what is undeniably a panic attack.

[lostatsea-blog]

Bringing Home the Gold (Part 4)

Alexia Putellas x England Reader

Will Y/N and Alexia find their happy ending?

For a brief moment time stood still. The two of you were frozen, unable to take your eyes off each other. Alexia looked tired and was dressed in her Spain tracksuit with a cap; your heart ached at how utterly beautiful she looked even when dressed so casually. Realising that you had frozen at the top of the stairs just staring at her, you took a step forward and Alexia saw that as her cue to stand. As you took in her appearance, you were drawn to how nervous she looked. She was finding it difficult to keep eye contact, her gaze drifting down to the carpet at her feet. Your heart clenched causing your stomach to roll while your mind filled with a million different reasons why she looked so nervous – none of the reasons your mind conjured were good.  

“Why are you here?” the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them and you frowned at how harsh you sounded. You opened your mouth again, fully intending to correct the tone you had just used, but your mouth was now in control and taking absolutely no direction from you “Your supposed to be in Ibiza enjoying your holiday with Jenni” You knew it was a low blow when you saw the hurt flash across Alexia’s face. It was only there for a second before she regained her composure.  

“No one has been able to contact you for four days and this is what you say?” Alexia challenged “You told me not now and not here and then you just disappear. Did you expect me to just not care?” her voice demanded no longer trying to hide the hurt and frustration she was feeling.

“In all honesty, I didn’t think you would care! It would mean you no longer had to pretend and you could give all of your time to Jenni” You replied. You watched the words hit the Spanish captain and could see her body recoil at the implication behind them. You knew you were being unfair, Alexia had never given you any reason to believe that she would cheat but you were hurt, you were humiliated and you wanted her to feel even a fraction of what you had been feeling.  

A door slamming on the floor above reminded you that you were stood outside your flat, which was not the best place for this conversation.

“Let’s do this inside” You sigh moving past her and opening the door. You walked in and took your coat off assuming that Aleixa was following you – it took a moment to realise that she hadn’t. She remained in a state of uncertainty at the threshold “You can come in Aleixa” you sighed

“I didn’t want to assume” she whispered and you knew, in that moment, Alexia was unsure of her place; something very new to the Spanish midfielder. She did not know how to behave in this space that was only yours or how to interact with this version of you. She followed you in and you led her into the kitchen. You observed her, without being obvious, as she took in your little flat. There were different collectables on the walls and signs of your achievements over the years. You saw the briefest of smiles as her eyes landed on your framed photo from the Euros. You busied yourself making coffee for the two of you, delaying this conversation as long as possible. When you finished making the drinks, you placed hers in front of her. She smiled softly; you had made her favourite drink just the way she liked it. It gave her a renewed sense of hope, like you were thawing a little and were open to what needed to be said.

“You didn’t go to Ibiza” you stated but she understood the question

“Did you think I would go when I had no idea where you were or what was going on” she asked

“And yet, for someone who didn’t know where I was, you seem to have had no trouble finding me” You snarked and again you wanted to kick yourself and tell yourself to shut up! What the fuck was wrong with you? She had come looking for you and somehow tracked you down and you wire sniping like a petulant child

“Y/N” she sighed heavily “Please stop! I used every contact I knew to try and find out where you might be” Your heart swelled at her admission as you understood the effort she made to find you. This had never been a test. You had not done this to see if she would try and find you (you had genuinely felt so overwhelmed you didn’t know how to function) but the fact that she had made you feel like you mattered to her. The other side of your brain wouldn’t allow you the luxury of letting down your guard, reminding you that she could have tracked your down to end your relationship in person. Alexia would not end things in a message or over the phone.

“Alexia, I don’t know what you want me to say” You respond your brashness suddenly deflating

“I hate when you say my name like that” She muttered with a quiet huff

“it is your name” You retort

“Not usually with you” and she was right. It was very rare that you used her full name, preferring to use terms of endearment or just a shortened Lex.

You genuinely wanted to scream. There was no one in the world who could get you as agitated and wound up as Alexia Putellas. The painful irony being that she was also the only person who could calm you down and alleviate the pain you had been feeling the last four days. Your snark came from fear. If you could give her a reason to end the relationship, then it wouldn’t have been about Jenni; It wouldn’t have been that you were second best or just not good enough. You were about to open your mouth to ask her to just get on with it, so you could begin the process of getting over her when she muttered “I’m sorry”

You blinked rapidly trying to process those two small words. Two words that could mean anything. I’m sorry I can’t do this, I’m sorry it’s not worth it, I’m sorry you’re not who I want. She must have seen the confusion and apprehension on your face because she continued “I’m sorry for hurting you the way that I did! My actions, I did not realise at the time what they implied or how it would look to you”

“Look,” you began “I know you and Jenni have history..”

“Don’t excuse what I did” She interrupts “You do that often, allow me to behave selfishly and excuse my actions”

“Lex,” You begin and watch how she swallows at the use of her pet name “I just want you to be happy – what ever that looks like” you step forward and take hold of her hand. You had always found it hard to stay mad at Alexia and when you thought about it, it was probably why you had turned off your phone. What you felt for the blond ran so deep that all it would have taken was a conversation and you needed to be mad at her for a little while.

“My happy is you” she leaned forward and brushed her nose with yours sending shivers down your spine. From the very first night you kissed her, she had the ability to take your breath away with barely a touch. Feeling bolder, she caught your lips in a soft kiss “You are more important than any history or any team. Jenni is my past but you are my forever” her hand reached up and swiped at tears you did not even realise were falling “I would never betray you Y/N, I swear. With everything that has been happening inside the team, In my mind I was showing support and solidarity; Alba helped me realise the implications behind the actions.”

Unable to maintain the distance any longer you surged forward cashing your lips together in a desperate kiss that longed to forget the hurt of the past few days. As you broke apart, you pulled her into your arms, something you had wanted to do since the end of the final. Her arms slipped further around your middle and you felt her grip on the back of your shirt tighten as she held you in a desperate grip afraid that you would pull away.  

“I am so proud of you” you whispered the words you had longer to say before the medal ceremony; the words she had said to you as you spotted the shirt “You are a World Cup Winner and I am so immensely proud of you Lex – Your brought home gold!”

You knew that there was much more to talk about. You knew you would have to tell her about your fears and insecurities but that could wait. The situation with the Spanish National Team was complicated and while you desperately wished you could protect Alexia from all the shit, it was not your fight; it was hers. Your job was to stand by her side while she showed the world just how incredible she truly was; while she made history and while she took strides to improve the game for the girls who would come after her.  

@wosof1

[destinedfordiapers]

No One Mourns The Wicked

This story is set in the Your Change of Plans universe. So read that first. Or don’t. Either way.

I’ll be honest. When Claire’s parents first told me they were sending her to the Little’s Program™️, I tried my best to stop them.

In my defense, Claire was beautiful and who wants to date a girl in diapers?

I mean, sure, she was stuck-up, shallow, and superficial. And yeah, she thought she was the Queen Bee wearing designer clothes and ruthlessly controlling our friend group.

She was a mean girl. Think Regina George. That kind of girl.

But now that I see her, stripped from her fancy, expensive clothes and attitude wearing that adorable diaper—I can’t help but agree it’s for the best.

“Awww, Clairebear! Don’t be shy!!! It’s just me!”

As you can see, Claire hid her face in her stuffies, too embarrassed to respond.

“Claire, honey,” her mom says, “Ryan came all this way to see you. We don’t ignore our guests, do we?”

A few weeks ago, Claire would’ve bit her mom’s head off for talking to her like that.

But now look at her.

Her mom turns to me, smiling. “She might need a few minutes to warm up to you. She’s still adjusting to her new life.”

Claire digs her face further into her stuffies, whimpering.

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s a big transition for her. I mean, she did go from Prada to Pampers! Gucci to Gerber! Cartier to cribs! But she’s just so cute in that diaper!”

“Well she does have the best diapers on the market! Only the best for Claire,” her mom says, “Plus she’s been much better behaved since she got back. Sure, she still throws tantrums—all Littles do!—but now they’re about not wanting her poopy diaper changed instead of throwing a fit because we got her the wrong Hermes bag!”

“Now that is something I gotta see! Clairebear throwing a tantrum in a poopy diaper?! How cute is that?”

More whimpers from Claire.

“Well, you’re in luck! She’s past due for her afternoon boom boom. She usually goes during her nap but not today. Should be any minute!”

She pats Claire’s diaper playfully.

“It’s just so crazy,” I say astonished, “Claire poops her diapers now.”

“Yep, the Littles Center recommended the full package to fix her attitude after meeting Claire. Complete unpotty-training, inability to orgasm, and strict reliance on the Littles Center’s special baby formula. She can’t eat any adult food without getting an icky tummy!”

“Well, judging by the fact I haven’t heard Claire talk back at all, I’d say it’s working!”

“Like a charm! She did have a meltdown after we gave her fancy clothes to her cousins, but Littles don’t need fancy clothes, do they Claire?”

“M-maawmmmyyyyy,” Claire lisp’s adorably.

“Sorry, honey, but you need onesies and diapers! And I almost forgot, Claire also got the Babble Package™️, so she sounds just like a toddler! How cute is that?”

“I na a tawdwa!!” Claire shrieks.

It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Of course you’re not,” I coo, “You’re our Clairebear!”

Claire’s mom smiles, “Well, why don’t I leave you two alone so you can catch up. Let me know if she makes a poopy!”

Claire moans again.

For the first time since her regression, I’m alone with Claire.

It’s strange, seeing her there in her diaper, completely docile. Nothing like the bossy, sexy woman she used to be.

I sit on the bed next to her, rubbing her shoulder. “Hey, Clairebear.”

She lifts her head from her stuffies. “H-hi Wyan.” Hearing herself she hides her head again.

Doing my best not to laugh, I push forward. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. Not with me. You know I love you. Even if things are different.”

Hearing the “I love you,” Claire immediately turns around. “P-pwomith?”

“Yes, Claire, I promise.”

For the first time since I got there, Claire smiled and sat up against her pillows.

“Is this your stuffy?”

“Mhm! It’s Wy-Wy Dog!” she says excitedly, showing me her stuffed dog.

“Awww, did you name him after me?”

“Yeah!” she says, blushing a bit.

“Well I think he’s the cutest little stuffy in the whole world!”

Her smile fades slightly. “Don wan stuffies, wan you!”

I sigh. I knew it would come to this eventually. I wasn’t lying, I did love her. But I can’t date a Little. I need a woman, not a pamper packer.

“Clairebear, I love you, I really do. But you’re…you’re a Little now. It’s not appropriate for you to be in an adult relationship anymore.”

“Buh, buh!” she starts, stomping her hands and feet, “Na fawr!!! I you guwlfwien!!!”

As I look into her eyes, I no longer see the sophisticated, sexy woman she used to be. Whatever she used to be, whatever fun we used to have, a distant memory.

“Sorry, little one. I need a woman—an adult—and you’re not that anymore. You’re not even potty trained, it’s just not meant to be. Maybe you’ll find a nice guy at daycare!”

I knew I went too far right away. The tantrum started right away.

“NOOOOO!” she shouted, kicking her feet more than ever! Na a baby! Na na na!”

The kicking of her feet caused an immediate reaction. Her screaming suddenly stopped as her eyes grew wide.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I ask before a grunt answers my question.

A loud, bubbly toot trumpets out of her diaper, leaving no ambiguity of what’s happening. Her eyes furrow in concentration at the task at hand.

Her diaper expands rapidly as she grunts. Her eyes still unfocused as she works to fill her diaper.

All I can do is watch as the woman I once revered poops her diaper in front of me, no different from an actual toddler.

Well, I guess she basically is a toddler now.

After a few bubbly toots, her grunting stops. Though the smell immediately attacks my nose, barely mitigated by the baby powder in her diaper.

“Did someone just make a poopoo?” I ask in a babyish voice. I couldn’t help myself. It was instinctual.

It’s just how you talk to pamper packers.

“No poopies!” she shrieks, legs kicking again. Her diaper swaying dangerously.

“Are you sure about that, little one?”

“I didn’! You did!” she squeals, trying to kick me.

“Excuse me, Claire? This is not how a Little should behave! You do not fib about your diaper and you definitely do not try to kick adults!”

“Don care! Na baby!!”

“If you keep acting like this you’re gonna learn what happens to misbehaving Littles. I’ll give you one more chance before you end up on my lap.”

I almost felt bad. The last thing I did was want to cause Claire to throw a tantrum. But here we are.

“You na my mawmy! You dum baby too!” she retorted, still trying to kick me.

“No, but I am,” her mom says walking in, “I could hear your tantrum all the way down the hall! Were you trying to kick Ryan?”

Claire’s eyes grew wide. “I-I-I b-but!!”

“We do not kick our babysitters, do you understand me?” her mom said in that deeply maternal voice you hear when you’re in trouble.

In a flash, Claire’s mom is sitting on the bed, pulling her kicking and screaming Little on her lap.

Claire’s diaper is already browning, bulging under the weight of its contents.

She turns to me and says over Claire’s whining, “I’m sorry, Ryan. I did warn you about her poopy diaper tantrums! I’ll take care of this one, are you still on to babysit her Friday night?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Great, you go on, I’ll see you then. I have to teach this little one some manners.”

As I walk out, I hear SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I may have lost my girlfriend, but I can’t argue this isn’t for the best.

[pasukiyo]

BOUND TO ME

demon!tom riddle x female!reader word count: 3,851 warnings: smut, mirror sex, dub-con, edging, orgasm denial, p in v sex synopsis: there is an entity, a monster, a demon living within her mirror. the mirror, which had found its way into her bedroom above her father's butcher shop peculiarly, is the only place he can be seen, only place he can be felt...

 His whispers slither through her bedroom in the shadows and to her ears, coiling like a python around her throat. 

 She was foolish to think she could ever resist him.

 The evidence of her attempts lie in fragments of broken glass on the floor and when he laughs, she imagines he has the tongue of a serpent, gooseflesh creeping down her arms when he hisses. 

 “Foolish girl,” he whispers in the dark and she shivers because she knows he is here, knows he is close, and knows he is seething. “You thought you could wash your hands of me.”

 She hugs the sheets closer to her chin, squeezes her eyes shut, willing slumber to take her into its arms, thinking maybe it will save her from him. Still, she is cold because he is there and he’s right: she is a fool. She’s foolish for thinking she could will him away in the first place. Foolish for thinking smashing the mirror, his portal into her world was enough to keep him away. 

 “You severely underestimate me, and your stupidity will be your demise. You think there is anywhere in the world you can be where I won’t find you? I am always with you. You are bound to me,” she recalls him once saying into the night, many moons ago. “Besides, let’s face it: this tether between us turns you on. You lie to yourself every time you think you do not want me, and your body proves you wrong every time.”

 Her teeth chatter inside her mouth and she has to sink them into the inside of her cheeks to quell the noise. All is quiet in her bedroom but she knows he must be there, looming, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He is a basilisk— and she knows how perfectly she will break for him, should he so much as breathe on her. 

 She is vulnerable now, in her nightgown, doing her very best to not weep while she clutches the bedsheets to her chin, praying sleep will take her away. She is entirely too weak, too feeble to be trusted, should he come closer, should she feel his breath rolling like smoke down her flesh, should he touch her. Even now, her body aches to betray her. 

 Remember how well he pleases you, a low, oily voice sounds from somewhere within. A dent forms between her brows and her breath shakes, lips trembling. You long to be touched, even now. Look at you, already dripping from the mere thought of being taken. 

 She squeezes her thighs closer together, trying to rid herself of the ache at her center as if to prove her own body wrong. 

 She does not want this. She does not want him. 

 And yet…

 “And yet, here you lay, wishing for some silly mercy, thinking it will keep me away.”

 She nearly leaps from her skin at the voice, her eyes snapping open as she pushes herself upright. She pants, glancing wide-eyed around her bedroom, searching for him, for any trace there could be. The only thing that moves is her heaving chest and the curtains over her window, blowing wistfully in the wind. 

 She trembles, following the moonlight to where it shines on the floor, on the shattered remains of her mirror. She presses her lips together and inhales, trying to reassure herself that she is safe, that he cannot get to her now, his only gateway being broken. He cannot harm her now. He cannot break her with his touch, for not even a fingernail will scratch her, not even his breath will grace her skin. 

 Her eyes flutter closed and she takes another deep breath and when her eyes open again, there is nothing in her darkened bedroom save for the moonlight. 

 She is safe. She has nothing to fear. She is alone but she is safe. She is safe. She has nothing to fear. 

 It is eerily silent, save now for her soft murmurings of assurances beneath her breath as she settles back down into her mattress, slowly pulling the sheets back to her chest. She tries to tame her uneasy heart, staring into the moonlit wooden ceiling above and when she believes she is ready, she closes her eyes, praying again that sleep will come. 

 Please. Let sleep come. 

 She thinks for a moment she must really, truly be at peace when she hears nothing irregular, nothing to warrant terror. She puckers her lips and blows one more spout of air out before she allows herself to relax further into the bed. Certainly sleep should come a little easier now. 

 Snickering.

 Her eyelids snap back open when she hears his snickering, curling like vines around her ears, its thorns piercing through her skin. Her heart pounds against her chest and she pushes herself upright again, searching her bedroom for him. Still, everything is as it was before, everything down from the dark ceiling to the dresser to the curtains billowing in the wind to the shards of—

 Her lips press themselves together and tremble, her eyes widening and limbs shaking as she peers down to the shards of glass scattered along the floor. She sees him there, broken fragments of his face but he is there and he is laughing at her, mocking her for her sheer stupidity. 

 “You are even more of a fool than I initially took you for,” he snickers and she whimpers, shaking, unable to move. “I told you your stupidity would be your end.”

 She watches in a mixture of horror and anticipation as the fractured pieces of glass on the floor move, little pieces coming together in the wooden frame of the mirror, now sat upright. The last thing she sees is his stare, his wickedly dangerous stare fragmented by cracks in the glass before she closes her eyes, unable to face what will come next. 

 She hears scraping against the floor and then nothing— everything goes still again, as if she’s alone, as if he is not there. 

 She would not fall for her own stupidity again. He is there. She knows it. She’s uncertain whether he’s close or far but he is just there, existing in the same space she is. 

 She presses her lips tighter together, her eyes remaining closed, her heart stuttering in her chest. All she hears now is her own breath and her uneasy heart but still, she does not open her eyes. 

 And then a hiss, just like a python’s, coils around her neck, around her throat, circling all the way back to her ears, “your fate rests with me. You belong to me, you are bound to me. Do not resist your desire— it calls to me while you weep, proclaiming you do not want me.”

 A fingertip against her throat is what makes her eyes snap open. She yelps when his hand locks around her throat, her own instinctively reaching for him. He leans in close behind her and there, at the base of her bed sits the mirror and there is where he is, looming behind her like a shadow, dark face split with a wicked grin.

 “You feel it now already, don’t you?” He hisses into her ear before his lips graze her neck and her lips fall apart, gasping for the air he’s stolen from her lungs. 

 She is at his mercy, quite literally in the palms of his hands, her fate his to break and mend as he pleases. It’s terrifying— and yet, a part of her finds it equally electrifying, teetering on the edge between peril and pleasure. She curses herself, condemns herself for how easily she is swayed, how easily she is broken. 

 Perhaps this is solely the reason why the mirror found her, why it chose her, why he chose her. She is weak. She is ungrounded. She’s a masochist in every sense of the word, despite how desperately she’s tried to deny it. She’s in love with the way he makes her feel, in love with the way he talks to her, touches her, takes her. It’s painful, it’s humiliating, it is blasphemy, is what it is, her desire for her demon. 

 Tom is her shame, he is everything about herself she wished to forget and wished to unbecome. He must have sensed this, all those moons ago when his mirror found its place into her tiny bedroom above her father’s butcher shop. He sensed this ruthlessness, this ferality, this desire she’s kept stowed away that’s been bursting at the seams, eager to be unleashed and he did just that, giving her an outlet to indulge in all her darkest of fantasies. 

 Really, what he is doing should be seen as a mercy, a gift. 

 Nobody could ever please her the way Tom does, after all. 

 “You desire me already, don’t you?” He purrs with a voice as slick as oil, dripping with derision. She watches the mirror, shivering as his hand drops from her throat and she gasps for air as he traces a path from her collarbone to her chest with the tip of his forefinger, skirting the neckline of her nightgown. She feels it and it is there, existing in her mirror yet, he is not quite there in her world. Her wide-eye gaze fixes on the mirror, her only way of knowing who and what it is making her feel this way.

 “Here. You feel it here,” he whispers, that fingertip of his tracing a circle around the peaked nipple over the top of her gown, right over her stuttering heart. It beats for him and he knows it, can feel it beneath his finger. She watches through the mirror as a corner of Tom’s lips curve in a smirk, his hungry stare finding hers through the glass. 

 “And you feel it…” he trails off, the fingernail of that forefinger suddenly no longer human, but a talon, like the sharp claw of a crow and he uses it to tear a line from the center of her neckline, all the way down to her skirt. She yelps, looking down at her bodice as her gown rips at the hand of an invisible force and it is not until she feels his warm palm against the bottom of her belly, dangerously close to where she burns most for him. “…here as well.”

 He presses down on her belly, not much but enough to have her teetering on the edge of utter madness, muscles locked in anticipation. She tosses her head back and Tom snickers again as she whimpers, feeling herself pulse where she wants, no, needs him most. He rubs circles into the flesh below her belly, inching closer to her core agonizingly slow, nearly enough to tip her over the brink of insanity. 

 “How greedy you become, by the mere touch of my hand– the hand of a monster, as you put it, yes?” He sneers, his breath rolling like smoke down along the expanse of her neck. She peers back up at the mirror, watching as he dips his mouth to her collarbone, feeling his breath, his lips as they graze against her skin. It sends shivers slithering down the coil of her spine and now she knows her basilisk has her under his spell now.

 Her chest heaves against his arm as Tom teases her, his fingertip stroking back and forth along the bottom of her belly. He clicks his tongue, almost pitiably when he pulls his hand away and she whimpers, nerves uneasy due to the lack of his touch. 

 “But that’s not all you want, is it?” He whispers coolly into the space between them, his voice rolling over her skin and leaving chills in its wake. She glances back to the mirror, watching his dark gaze as it disappears behind her head, reappearing on the other side of her face. She feels him breathe against her other ear, her lips trembling, her core aching. “You long to be burned from within, to be branded, for me to take what is rightfully mine and mark you so even dear old dad will know of your treachery.”

 Tears that have since merely pooled in the bottom of her sockets begin to shed, drop after drop sliding down her cheeks as she tries to find a balance between her fear and desire. She knows she will not be able to resist him, not tonight, but she still has some sense of honor. She will not be weak. She will face him with courage, however little. 

 Tom sneers at this. He clicks his tongue again, “poor thing. Is that not what you want? To be claimed for everyone to see?” He asks, the tip of his finger drawing circles in the valley between her breasts. She shudders beneath his touch but still, she hardens her gaze, mustering enough courage to meet his dark, melting stare. The corners of his lips curve and he chuckles, “bold little thing. You wish to be fucked.”

 His hand finds her chin and she yelps as his fingertips press down into her cheeks. He forces her gaze to lock on his through the mirror and she watches as his other hand slashes clean through the rest of her nightgown, leaving her completely exposed. The moonlight glistens on her skin as his hand forces her thighs apart, her sex glistening crudely in the starlight. 

 “Look at this,” he snickers, dipping his middle and forefinger between her thighs, brushing against her slit, enough to coat them evenly in her slick. Her toes curl and she gasps, tossing her head back where it bumps into his shoulder. “So ready to be tamed. Bred, potentially.”

 She thinks she will die from anticipation. It started as a simple flame, kindled in the pit of her belly but it has since blossomed into a blazing inferno, strong enough to make her feel like she is melting from the inside out. His graces against her skin were little bits of coal plunging into the depths of her inferno and she erupted in turn, like a volcano breaking from its dormancy. 

 Tom brings his fingers, covered with the evidence of her desire, to her lips, forcing them into her mouth and she moans around them, swirling her tongue greedily, like a starved wolf around them. He breathes and it sounds more like a growl, dropping the hand gripping her chin to slap her aching clit, her body jolting as if struck by a crack of lightning. 

 “Yes,” he purrs. “So desperate to be filled. I wonder though, will this greedy cunt of yours be ready for my cock?”

 She merely stares at him, hoping her look is pleading enough for him. 

 He snickers. 

 She swallows as he pulls his fingers away from her mouth. 

 “I believe you are fully capable of speaking,” he sneers. “So use your words.”

 Her mouth opens and closes, her mind numb, void of anything that does not involve impurity. She blinks helplessly at her own reflection, brows knitting when she finds her gaze again. He clicks his tongue, “pity. I cannot give you what you want if you do not ask for it.”

 Her mouth suddenly feels dry, the words she tries to muster like sandpaper against her throat and tongue. Her cheeks burn in shame as she tries to say something, to produce any sort of sound. 

 “I—“

 “Nicely,” he interrupts, his voice like a crack of thunder in her otherwise still bedroom. “Ask me nicely.”

 She purses her lips, willing herself to breathe, at least, she best she’s able to manage. The tip of Tom’s forefinger circles mindlessly just above her clit and it pulses, aches, screams for mercy.

 She swallows down her shame, every ounce of honor left in her. This will have to be mercy enough. 

 “Please,” she begins, her voice ashamedly high, feeble. “I… I need to feel you.”

 Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to relent so easily. Or perhaps he was merely teasing her. 

 She does not feel him and when she looks into the mirror, she does not see him, uncertain if he is even there at all. A cold creeps along her legs, trailing up her hips to her arms where her weary bones catch a chill, locking her in place. She hears nothing but her own breath, her own heart beating against her chest. Her stare locks on the mirror at the foot of her bed because she knows this is not the end— he is still here, a predator in the dark, circling his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

 Silence. 

 She thinks a cold perspiration has begun to bead at her forehead. Her brow furrows, the pressure so intense in her head and when she looks at herself in the mirror, she can see the prominent outline of a vein on her forehead. A gasping hiccup escapes her chest as more tears stream down her face, praying this torment will come to an end soon. 

 When will he strike? 

 She hears something move to her left and she yelps, the hair standing erect on her arms and neck but it is only her curtains, blown just a little harder by a sudden strong gust of wind. She wills herself to breathe again, focusing on slow inhales and exhales as she turns again to face the mirror. 

 Before she can even make sense of what she sees, before a gasp or a cry or a scream can reach her tongue, she is pushed forward until her face is smushed against the mattress. She yelps into the bed, feeling her torn nightgown being ripped from her body before she feels something, someone, a force behind her, pressing against her ass. As soon as she feels he is there behind her, she feels the length of him press into her entrance, filling her up with a single primal thrust. 

 Her knuckles bend around her bedsheets and she cries out into her mattress, too muffled to have possibly been heard by anyone outside of her bedroom. She expects there to be pain at her center where she is split open, just barely managing to fit the entire length of him inside of her but all she feels is bliss— burning white hot bliss. 

 “That’s right,” he coos somewhere behind her ear, another angry thrust making her grip the sheets tighter, her fingers on the bed and his long, warm hands gripping her hips being her only anchor. “Lose yourself in me. Forget who you are and think only of me.”

 It is not difficult when her mind is already dough, each seething, primal thrust of his hips against her ass molding her into different shapes, twisting every single thought inside her brain until they are solely his name. 

 Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. 

 “Tom!” She yowls, trying to lift her head from the sheets but being forced back down by his hand gripping the tendrils of her hair, using them as reins to hold her down. 

 “You thought you could rid yourself of me,” he hisses, ramming his cock harder inside of her, bruising that delicate spot so deep inside her where no man ever reached before. “What were you going to do had you succeeded? Hm? Found yourself a husband? Let him have you like this? Let him fuck you full of his little bastards?”

 She’s nothing to say and even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to. All she can think is how good she feels, how well it feels to be so completely and utterly lost in this bliss, to be wrapped around her monster, her demon, her shame’s cock. She can hardly even focus on the words he speaks now. 

 Using the grip he has on her hair, he lifts her head and when he tells her to open his eyes, she can just barely make out his face beside hers through the reflection of the mirror. Her vision is blurry and with each piston of his hips, more stars dot her eyes but she still obeys, unwilling to let go of this pleasure she feels now for even a second. She is just as he says she is— she is greedy, she is ravenous, she is an animal. 

 Perhaps, they are much more alike than she’d care to admit. 

 “Did you think you’d find yourself another man who could make you feel as good as you do now?” Tom asks, his voice dripping with oily derision and she hangs on every word he says, breathing in his voice like a vapor. “There is no one else in this world good enough for you. No other man could do the things I do to you and you know it.”

 He drops her head and it falls pitifully back to the mattress. She cannot find it within herself to muster enough strength to lift it back up so she simply clutches the sheets as each thrust becomes angrier, more feral. 

 “How can you be so stupid?” He growls as he ridicules her, taking her so deeply, so hungrily that she cannot even bring herself to feel shame, her humility never once even crossing her mind. Her eyes roll back and her body is practically limp in his hands, a weak, pliant mess held together by a demon’s cock. 

 She feels so close to the edge she quite literally bursts into tears, soaking the bed sheets beneath her face. Her release is blinding white light that seems so close, a mere arm’s length away. Tom’s growl is like a roar as he spills himself inside of her, so deep she thinks she can feel him in her belly— and it might very well be true. 

 It’s just what she needs to come. She loses control of her body, the trigger of her orgasm the last thing she needs to release. Her finger curls around that trigger but just before she can pull it, his cock is gone, leaving nothing but his seed that oozes out of her cunt like rivers of hot magma as evidence for their deed. Tom drags her head up by her hair, forcing her to face him yet again through the mirror. 

 She hates him. A million curses materialize on the tip of her tongue but none come to fruition, not when she meets his gaze, so intense, it pierces through her skin like sharp ice that frosts over her bones. 

 “Did you think you’d get to come?” He clicks his tongue, feigning pity. “Poor thing. Unfortunately, as far as I’m concerned, insolent little brats do not deserve to be rewarded. Perhaps when you learn to behave, you will earn your release.”

 He lets go of her hair and she cries as her face meets the mattress again and her bedroom grows cold again and she knows that this time, he is truly gone. 

 And when she finally gathers enough strength to look at herself in the mirror, there her reflection was— staring back at her, toppled over, fucked out, and alone. 

a/n: its been so long since i last wrote for tom and i had just finished my rewatch of Nosferatu and then this thing was born LMAOOOO i hope you all enjoy it though 🤭

🪞 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! your feedback is always appreciated 🫶

TAGLIST:

@your-nanas-house

@sallowsarchives

@michelle-26

@iamthejam

@lyis

[wandixx]

Danny the Young Justice member

“Hey, like, hypothetically, do you think Justice League could pay me if I became hero full time?”

It shaped out to be pretty long and boring stake-out, with rest of Team scattered around but connected with Mindlink, so it seemed like best moment to ask. It wasn’t something Danny wanted to do, but it shaped out to be his only chance to get any future. He cried over it enough times already, so there was even a chance he won’t breakdown trying to discuss it out in the semi-public. He wanted to keep it as calm and rational as he could and hey, if something started to get too emotional, he could say he saw some suspicious movement and fly off to fight someone. Really, it was perfect situation.

“How hypothetical is this question?” Robin asked after a beat of silence. It was quiet and careful, like he was afraid to set him off if he said something wrong or he did it wrong way. It made skin on his back crawl. Danny knew he was a bit more volatile lately, but he really hoped special treatment would stop soon.

“Hypothetical”

“Okay, let’s say we don’t know it’s a lie”

“Unnecessary” Artemis coughed.

“C’mon it kinda was–”

“Can someone just answer my fucking question?”

“I don’t think so. Batman is the one doing most of the funding, and he is really stubborn about school and future. He wants us all to have chance at normal life outside of this hero villain business with regular job and stuff”

That didn’t bode well, but Danny hadn’t got this far by losing hope whenever first obstacle occurred.

“But I could be ready whenever disaster strikes or some villain attacks or really whenever it’s necessary and I wouldn’t need to escape any civilian stuff,” he may have gotten a bit desperate along this little rant, but he just pushed through “It always takes precious minutes and–”

“It doesn’t really seem to be hypothetical anymore,” Wally interrupted and he was lucky to be on different roof, because Danny, he sworn to ancients, would strangle him if redhead was any closer.

He was very adamant about not thinking about how his last ideas of surviving to adulthood started crumbling. He promised himself to not have breakdown in the open.

He wasn’t going to.

It was fine.

He would figure something out. He always did.

“Danny?”

“It’s fine Meg, don’t worry”

“Can we ask what brought this hypothetical on your mind? You’ve always were the most assured that you’ll stop being hero at some point and move on”

Bless Kaldur to always know when to ask best-worst question. Danny wasn’t going to cry, so he wasn’t going to answer.

“We can’t help you if we don’t what’s wrong,” M’gann said softly, like she was just trying to remind him.

Something small hit his lap. A tear. When did it get here?

“It’s fine. It’s just a stupid thought”

“Okay. Tell us when you’re ready”

“Something suspicious is going on, I think it’s what we’re looking for,” Everyone needed Conner on their squad to get conversation back on not emotional track.

As it turned out it was indeed what they were looking for, and soon Danny got to express all of his pent up aggression in only a bit misplaced way.

“That was harsh”

“Shut up, this one doesn’t have pain receptors”

“Phantom has a bad day, huh?”

“You’re about to have worse,” he growled and punched guy until he stopped grinning.

It was quick work after that.

“Danny?”

Only bad side of Mindlink was that he couldn’t act like he was losing connection. It would be useful right now.

“Danny?”

“Not now”

“In the Bioship then. Not a minute later, am I clear?”

“Crystal”

He started calculating a way to get out before. He used to do it all the time, at the beginning. It was easier when Team didn’t know about his human side and they were holding each other at the arms length, but still. He could–

Conner landed right behind him and put hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t restrain, it wasn’t assuring. It was just there.

Here came his plans of escape.

“So–” Artemis started as soon as the door of Ship had closed “– what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

“We all know it’s not nothing”

“I’m being overdramatic”

“About what?”

Danny just slumped forward and his face in hands.

“Danny”

“I have to retake year. I’m not even half way through highschool and I’m already failing and I- I just can’t do better. It’s not like I don’t have time to study, and I do try sometimes, but just as often I’m just being dumb and messing around, and I knew I failed some other tests, but last one? Last one I was sure I’ve got it, I was trying, I was trying so hard and I still fucked it up and if I can’t make it even when- even when I’m trying my best, then what is the point?”

He took a moment to breathe, to rub tearing eyes. He still wasn’t going to cry.

“I’m already kinda good at this hero thing, so I could just keep it up. I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of high school, so no good job for me, but maybe I could. I could have something, you know. Something useful. Something good. Maybe I can have some life after all”

Someone rubbed his back but he didn’t raise his head to see who.

“I didn’t want to let accident destroy any more of my life than it did, but I don’t think I can”

“Well, impossible sounds right about the task for us. We’ve got you”

Well fuck. That’s about that in not crying department.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] SDV Bachelors x Reader With Big Tits

Give your thanks to @angelsfics221 !

Summary: The SDV Bachelors (+ Maru ) being horndogs over the reader/farmer having a huge pair of personalities.

Warning(s): Pure horny energy from the jump, Masturbation, The guys are big tit fiends ngl, Top! Reader (In Maru's part), Whiny Alex + Sam (I kinda always write whiny Sam though)

Side Note(s): As a member of the big titties club. I'm a certified PHD at this topic (And the fact that, once you have a rack, you sign away any rights to doing jumping jacks again—)

Hope you enjoy! Sorry for the long wait 😔

Elliot

Nipple sucking while giving him a blow-job.

That's all I need to say.

While I imagine that Elliot would be respectful, don't get me wrong. He's still human and he has fantasies like anyone else would! I'd like to imagine that he truly appreciated your huge personalities when summer came.

After you finished your chores for the day, you decided to take a trip to the beach and have some fun in the water! And when Elliot stepped out of his cabin to innocently read on the pier—

He didn't even notice he had dropped his book when he saw you. Your two-piece almost seeming to struggle holding your tits in as you lightly kicked at the water and splashed in it.

Each time you bent down to scoop water into your hands, blissfully unaware of the man whose eyes were practically glued to your figure. The writer felt like he had been transported to heaven and back.

He knew he had to talk to you and that he did!

A conversation that went sooo well that you were more than happy to tour his small cabin and let him appreciate your figure from a whole lot closer than the pier.

♡ - Elliot's mind was dizzy with lust and shame.

Usually, he'd have more decorum than this.

He'd first get to know a person, learn their hobbies and interests as well as their personality long before the idea of sex even dared to cross his mind, much less think to slip from his tongue! But with you? It seemed like all manners just went out the window.

That first glimpse of you at the beach was enough to make his knees buckle and his book fall into the salty water below, immediately forgotten about in the face of your breasts threatening to slip from your bikini with each movement you made, but now? As he relished in the feeling of your hand tenderly stroking his dick as he sucked at your nipple, his hand gently massaging the other and eliciting sweet moans from your kiss-swollen lips—he could really care less about manners and decorum.

Especially with how he struggled to delay his orgasm to enjoy this moment even longer. "Such gorgeous tits..." Elliot moaned against your chest, not wanting to part from your nipple for even a second.

Your face flushed at the compliment before a drawn-out moan left your lips when Elliot's hand went from your breast to your aching sex, his finger quickly finding your hard clit before he began to gently pet at it. Your hips bucked forward unconsciously, a shudder running up and down your spine as you moaned breathlessly at the light touching Elliot delivered onto you.

You were briefly snapped from your mind slowly losing its grip on reality when Elliot suddenly hissed, causing you to quickly realize you had gripped him too hard. "...S-Sorry..." You said. Before you could move your hand from his cock, Elliot's hand shot down to grab your wrist before he guided you back to his leaking dick, briefly parting from your breast, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm...fine." He said, having to inhale deeply between each word.

"Squeeze me again," Then, he immediately returned to your breast, lightly nipping at your nipple. When Elliot felt your hand began to squeeze his cock, gently rubbing him up and down, he bucked up into your hand as his mind wasted no time swarming with even dirtier thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. He desperately wanted to know what your tits would look like, how they would move when he fucked you, he wanted to mark them up, pinch and knead at them as if he were playing with a toy.

And he knows you'd let him do whatever he wants with you.

You were all too eager to shed your clothes and let him kneel before you before he all too quickly sucked and massaged your breasts, like a devotee worshipping their goddess— "F-Fuck..." Elliot whispered against you as he felt his orgasm creeping up on him. "Baby...please."

Your cunt clenched at his light begging as you then lightly smirked, your ministrations on him quickening much to the writer's delight. He grasped onto you tighter, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline and the only thing keeping him from descending into the depths of madness. Babbles of "pleasepleaseplease" and "I'm so close, don't stop" fell from his lips as easy as water would from a broken dam. You were so engrossed in his begging, you hadn't noticed he had came until he suddenly threw his head back to let out a loud unfiltered moan and warmth covered the top of your hand.

You looked at his twitching dick, his cum seeming to flow out from his tip endlessly until Elliot finally relaxed against you.

You couldn't let this be a one-time thing, and neither could he! You both were definitely going to keep in contact with one another.

Sebastian

Shockingly, I think he'd be the least horniest on this list.

Like yeah, he's not going to say no to groping and sucking a pair of huge tits but I'm standing firm on the hill that he's either an ass or thigh man.

However, when y'all had reached the stage where you two were dating and you eventually brought him over to your house?

As he watched you bounce up and down on his dick, the plapping noises alongside your tits moving in front of his face nearly made him cum on the spot.

To him? He felt like he had suddenly been placed right in the middle of a porno and the idea of marking up your tits was wayyyy too irresistible to him all of a sudden.

♡ - He felt like he was losing his mind by the passing second.

Drool dribbled from the side of his mouth, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he watched the arousing sight of you using him as if he were your own personal dildo, bouncing yourself up and down his cock. "Fuckfuckfuck...!" Sebastian whined as he gripped your thighs even tighter.

His moans and whines only fueled you to go faster before you fell forward a little, placing your hands on either side of Sebastian's head as you gripped the sheets and fucked yourself onto him even harder. "S-Shit...!" You cried out. "Sebby...your twitching so much," You breathlessly teased him, the rest of your words dying in your throat in the face of your boyfriend's dick practically sending you to an entirely different reality. But, while Sebastian's cock made you dumb in the skull...heart eyes nearly formed in Sebastian's gaze as his vision was locked onto the way your breasts moved up and down in front of his face.

Now, he didn't consider himself a boob man and was more into your thighs and ass.

However, he'd think something was wrong with him if his mouth didn't water at the sight of your tits moving in his face. Unmarked and practically begging for his mouth to latch onto them.

Which is exactly what he did.

"Fuuuckkk..." He groaned deeply, lifting his head ever so slightly to latch onto one of your nipples. As he begun to suck, he grunted when he felt you clench even tighter around his cock, nearly making him cum right then and there before pushing aside the feeling in the wake of wanting to enjoy your tits even longer as you fucked him. And especially how you looked at him as he did so. The darks of your pupils nearly took over the color of your eyes as you fucked yourself even harder onto him.

"So cute Seb~" You praised before you gasped when you felt his cock twitch inside you again.

You knew that he was weak to your praises, even in a more innocent setting, when you'd praise him for something so simple such as taking out the trash for you. He'd blush and turn his head away so cutely! But now? As he sucked and lightly bit on your nipples, his grip on your thighs tightening by the moment as he started to lose control and gently fuck up into you...the sheer pleasure of his cockhead touching the deepest parts inside of you, you knew that he deserved wayyyyy more praise for making you feel so good. "My tits are enough to make you like this?" You continued to speak, biting back your moans as much as you could to push out your words. "If I knew this, I would let you kiss and suck on them as much as you like Sebby—" Sebastian responded with a groan before it weakened into a whine, one of his eyes cracking open to look up at you as his pace quickened even more, the force of his thrusts punching out even more moans and whines out from your lips.

Your eyes threatened to roll to the back of your head. "Shit...!" You gasped. "Just like that...! Keep fucking me juusst like that~!" You moaned as you lost control in your arms a little, your tits squishing against Sebastian's face even more than they already were.

And that was enough to break the poor man as both of his hands suddenly wrapped around your torso while his feet dug into the bed, his hips suddenly pistoning up into you as he fucked you like he suddenly hated you. Tears of pleasure began to escape from the corner of your eyes as you felt the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten almost painfully as you begged for your boyfriend to make you cum over his cock.

"S-Sebastian!" You cried out as you tits squished even more against him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. With one last thrust and muffled moan, he suddenly stilled against you just as the knot inside you snapped, a sharp gushing sound splitting against Sebastian's abdomen and thighs as you both blanked out momentarily from your respective orgasms.

And when you started to come back down...you were the first to quickly lift yourself so you didn't accidentally smother your boyfriend. "S-Seb?" You stuttered, a combination of sudden embarrassment and still trying to come back from your orgasm. "I didn't mean to smother—"

He interrupted you with a shake of his head as his grip around your torso tightened once more. "Let's do that again."

Sam

I'm pretty sure all of y'all are familiar with how cartoon characters' eyes will bulge out when they someone they like, right? Yeah, Sam's eyes do that the moment he sees you for the first time.

One day, he was riding through town on his skateboard before he briefly heard Lewis mention the new farmer in town to someone! Sam had no clue what you looked like but he at least hoped you were friendly.

So imagine the way he absolutely eats dirt when he sees you for the first time.

Gorgeous and with a pair of tits that were nothing to scoff at? As he dusted the dirt from himself, he nearly cursed himself out for embarrassing himself in front of you without even getting a chance to say hello yet!

Luckily, you were laidback and friendly, only smiling briefly as you helped Sam up and introduced yourself in the process.

You were sooooo sweet. But god it was hard for Sam to keep his eyes on your face when faint droplets of sweat were rolling down your neck before disappearing into the valley of your breasts. It had him struggling to breathe and wishing that the pleasantries would end soon so he could go home.

All so he could fist his cock to a porn video of a woman that looked suspiciously like you

Until he gained the courage to speak to you again + got over the guilt of fucking his hand to the new farmer in town who had only arrived a few days ago. You were a star feature in every single daydream he had of you (which was nearly every day at this point) while he moaned out your name in his bedroom.

♡ - "Oh Yoba..."

Sam was currently in his room, all of his lights turned off and his phone at the lowest possible volume as he fisted his dick under the covers, all as his eyes were glued to the screen held in his hand. Earlier today, he had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful new face in town!

You.

You seemed so warm-hearted and friendly...and you were oh so pretty as well. But...what really caused Sam to be fucking his fist like some depraved pervert to the new farmer in town? Your huge tits, they alone were the reason he fell on his skateboard in front of you and made a complete ass of himself! Although you were kind and helpful to him (adding only more fuel to the fire of him suddenly lusting after you), as you bent down to help him up, your shirt revealing the tops of your breasts did nothing to help quell the boner that was suddenly raging in his pants.

Which is how he arrived at this very moment, looking at a porno of a woman whose breasts resembled your own all as she gave a boobjob to a dildo. The woman's face being covered only added to Sam's imagination as he could easily think of the woman being you and...instead of a dildo, it was his cock instead that you were slowly dragging your tits up and down on— "O-Oh fuck..." He cursed breathlessly, the bitten part of his shirt falling from his lips as Sam's breathless moans escaped from his lips.

His eyes began to burn with unshed tears of pleasure as he watched the woman's movement begin to speed up, his hands speeding up in order to quickly match the pace before the woman began to speak. 'She sounds nice...' Sam thought absentmindedly until his mind drifted back over to your face, coated in light pretty make-up with an accentuation to your lips.

He squeezed the head of his cock at the thought of your lips gently suckling his cockhead as you rubbed your soft tits up and down him, your half-lidded eyes looking up at him through your lashes while the faintest hint of a smirk could be seen. At another time, Sam would've felt mildly disgusted about what he was doing, he barely even knew you and yet he was pre-cum was leaking from his tip so much at the sheer idea of you treating his cock so well.

Sam's head sunk further into his pillow as he felt his orgasm quickly approaching, the hand that held his phone falling out of his hand before he began to massage his leaky tip. "Y/N...!" He panted even louder. Electricity felt like it was dancing throughout his body as his hips bucked up into his hand in search of more pleasure, the blonde's mind only filled with one single thing.

You, you, you, you, you.

How pretty you were and how gorgeous your tits were as you helped him stand back up. How friendly you were and how much he wished that his cock hadn't ruined the conversation the two of you were having, he desperately wanted to talk to you more...see where things went and— "S-Shit...!" Sam gasped, managing to give his cock a few more strokes before he felt strings of ropey cum hit his abdomen. As he gently fell back from Cloud 9, he released a breath he hadn't even known he was holding in before he relaxed.

Once he was free of his embarrassment of falling in front of you earlier today and masturbating to you despite barely even knowing you to begin with. He'd definitely work up the courage to speak to you more.

Harvey

Very respectful, very demure. He's not blind to the fact that you have huge tits but he's not going to go wild over them (to your face)

But when the time comes for you to have your yearly wellness check. I have a feeling that's his favorite time of the year as feeling up your tits to check for your lumps literally makes him ascend to the moon, only after making sure you were healthy of course!

But as soon as that check-up ends? Cue this man alerting Maru at the front desk that he's going to rest for a little in his room.

A quick masturbation sesh with you starring in it, all as he imagines playing and kneading your chest—he's never cum so fast.

But now he can't look at you without nearly turning into a tomato either.

♡ - A doctor should never do this.

It violated every rule in the book, even if you didn't know. He knew!

But, as Harvey currently sat on his bed, biting on his shirt like his life depended on it. His brain could only think of you and you alone, and how soft your tits felt in his hands. Like clouds almost, a regular procedure that he had done time and time again for many types of patients shouldn't have had his cock aching like this! But...you, you were different. Throughout the procedure, you had to have known what you were doing as you kept a steady eye on him as he moved the stethoscope over your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

While he stood in front of you nearly giving himself a nosebleed from how hard he was blushing, you looked at him with a soft smile without a single care in the world, as if you didn't know how you were affecting him!

And the second your wellness check was over...he was all too eager to rush back to his room, grab some lotion and tend to his leaky dick— "Miss Y/N..." He moaned to himself quietly, despite the situation and you not physically being here, he at least had enough decency left to refer to you in a respectful manner despite what he was doing. He tried not to let his thoughts sink into depravity too much, simply masturbating to the imagination of how your chest felt against him...and how much he wanted to see what they looked like without your shirt to cover them...and then if you would let him suck them— "S-Shit—!" He threw his head back suddenly to cry out before electricity suddenly sparked throughout his veins, a warmth suddenly coating his fist before he shakily looked down.

Harvey stared down at his cum-coated dick and fist in a daze for a long few minutes, he had never cum so quickly much less to the thought of someone who was essentially a complete stranger! Perhaps he was the one who actually needed the check-up...or, maybe it was best to stay away from you altogether...to avoid another bad situation like this.

Alex

The second least horniest on this list.

Not that he's not attracted to your huge personalities of course! It's just—everything about you is attractive to him. Your full figure and the mere sight of it was already enough to make him throb in his pants, your tits were just a nice added bonus.

Buutttt, when you two get to know each other and start becoming intimate, he's definitely not saying no to the possibility of straddling your torso and fucking your tits.

That night alone made him switch of to having a preference for tits ever since.

♡ - "You're sooooo dirty for letting me do this babe~"

It was a bit contradictory, he'd admit, Alex was the one who suddenly came up to you one day with the suggestion of fucking your tits! Although he was more of an ass man and was your number one fan of fucking up into you as you sat on his cock reverse cowgirl...when you'd face him, and watch how your tits would move up and down in a hypnotizing fashion—it was exactly how things got to where they were now.

Him straddling your torso as he pressed your boobs together around his girthy cock, your head turned down a little to lap at his cock each time it began to poke at your lips. The sight of you licking his tip as he fucked your tits made Alex's mouth water, the urge to cum stronger than ever but he was determined to hold back. He definitely didn't want this moment to end too soon. "Fuck..." He moaned as he leaned forward a little, bracing a hand just above your head as he began to grip the sheets as his pace sped up, your hands quickly pressing your breasts together to keep them squished around his leaky cock.

"Your boobs feel so good baby...we should do this every day, huh?"

You responded via suckling on his tip, the act alone making Alex whine as lewd plapping noises could quietly be heard from how hard he was fucking your chest, as if he were actually fucking your pussy. And his mind? He might as well have been! In this moment, the titjob you were giving him was just as addicting as the warm walls of your pussy. Each thrust was eager, every movement of his hips that brought his cock backward was followed by him rushing to thrust forward again as your soft lips were the reward.

But it was when you started to massage his cockhead with the palm of your hand that he really began to lose it. "F-Fuck—!" Alex cried out, his head dropping to dizzily look at the bedsheets as he tried to hold onto his sanity, hold onto his noises.

You definitely weren't going to have that. "Don't hold back your sounds Alex." Your voice just barely managed to reach Alex's ears over the sound of his rushing pulse in his ears and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Your request made his ears began to turn red and his cheeks burn, you were supposed to be the one who was noisy, not him! But...every attempt to refocus his brain and contain his sounds, turn them from whines into groans ended in pure failure as he couldn't deny how much he was enjoying your tits. "B-Baby..." He moaned. "Pleasepleaseplease....let me cum on your pretty tits..." He begged as his rhythm grew sloppier, pre-cum practically spilling every on your chest with how close he was to his orgasm.

The sound and sight of your boyfriend being so needy, begging you to cum when it was typically the other way around nearly made you cum untouched. You were absolutely loving this!

How could you ever think to say no?

"Cum on my tits babe," You moaned, replacing the palm of your hands with your mouth. The way the flat of your tongue lapped at his slit was all it took for the dam to break, Alex's abdomen flexing as he came, ropes of his hot cum flooding your mouth before it began to dribble out the sides of your lips when it became too much for you to drink down. Yet, when he was able to, when Alex slid himself away from the warm comforts of your chest to see what he had done to you...the trails of cum that dribbled out the sides of your mouth along with the leaky trail he left along your chest and stomach.

How you looked at him as if you wanted more.

He felt himself hardening almost immediately. "S-Sexy..." He stuttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Can...we do that again?"

Shane

Your very own personal tit massager

But I feel like he'd have his own little special place in the realm of big tit enjoyers (Though it'd be similar to Alex)

Everything about you is attractive to him, whether you have a fat ass, flat ass, big tits or small tits! Nothing could turn you off for him.

With this being said though—I genuinely believe that your tits are more so a way for him to further get you in the mood rather than him being obsessed over him. He likes your huge boobs, don't get me wrong but he'd slowly massage them while thigh-fucking you slowly. He wants you to get you in the mood, make you practically beg him to stop playing with your boobs and fuck you like a whore instead!

Fast and rough sex right from the start is all fun and all but—

He definitely enjoys the wait as well, hearing you all but scream for him to fuck you is enough to nearly make him cum on the spot.

♡ - "Shane...please." You begged sweetly into his ear as your boyfriend sat behind you, gently fucking your thighs while his head sat on your shoulder, looking over at the way he massaged your boobs.

And he did so with an intensely watchful eye. The weight and warmth of your tits made him harder and harder by the second. When Shane suggested fucking your thighs while he played with your tits, it was a...prelude of sorts, this wasn't enough to make him cum and even if it was, his cum was reserved for your mouth or pussy only. This foreplay was less about him and more so you, a way for him to listen to your needy moans and imagine how dirty they would become as you would soon scream for him once he speared you on his cock.

"Y' beg so cutely honey, almost makes me wanna fuck your gushing pussy next..." He whispered in your ear, his deep voice in combination with how he lightly bit the shell of your ear making you whine as you clenched around nothing. And the feeling of his cock lightly rubbing against your cunt, not enough to pleasure you but enough to let you know that it was there just out of reach from where you needed him the most.

It was enough to nearly drive you insane. "T-Then fuck my pussy..." You panted. "P-Please?"

You pouted cutely when Shane made a humming noise as if he were genuinely considering your request. "Nah." He smirked wickedly before he gently pinched your nipple, your grip on his forearms tightening at the action. "Let me enjoy these fat tits a lil' longer honey, along with these thighs..." He sped up his thrusts to accentuate his words, the increased speed of his thrusts doing a little more to just begin to rub against your hard clit but still...definitely not enough to make you cum.

"Shane, please."

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, his brow cocking upward lazily as if he were searching for something more. He was having so much fun playing with you as he was!

For ruining his fun so early on...he was going to make you work for the privilege of his dick fucking you stupid. "So impatient," With the way he clicked his tongue, you would've almost thought he were genuinely annoyed if you hadn't seen that ghost of a smirk begin to tickle the edges of his mouth. "Y' gotta beg me better than that for ruinin' my fun hon'."

Your cheeks burned even brighter, your face hiding in the crook of his neck in an attempt to briefly hide yourself away.

Yet, Shane didn't let it last long with how his thrusts all of a sudden slowed down and his hands stopped moving. "Well?"

You took your head from his neck, looking up at him with a teary expression. "P-Please..." You started.

His brow rose even higher, a silent warning of 'Not good enough'.

"Shane...please—!" You whined. "Fuck my aching pussy, I wanna cum on your cock...i-it hurts!" The dick had the nerve to hum again! The wait was making you ache even more than ever! But, just before you were about to smack his arm out of your own fit of annoyance, Shane suddenly parted your legs to begin rubbing fierce circles on your clit, the sudden pleasure making you throw your head back to let out a shrill moan.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled.

"I'll fuck this needy lil' pussy."

Bonus! Maru

I'm not going to lie, I only included Maru because corruption kinks go brrr.

So let's set the scene like this, Maru spots the farmer and immediately gains a crush on them. Your entire figure as well as how warm-hearted you appeared to be had the poor girl head-over-heels for you in a matter of minutes.

When you finally find a chance to talk to Maru, you immediately love how shy she appears to be around you and how she tries to make it not obvious that she's stealing glances at your tits.

Butttt there's a problem. Demetrius and him being overprotective of his daughter.

So the farmer plays the long game with Maru, flirting with her which turns into Maru being out later and later to spend more time with the farmer. Which then turns into her sneaking out late at night to go to the farmer's house.

And it doesn't take a genius to know what happened next once Maru and the farmer got to that stage.

The farmer coaxing Maru into multiple orgasms while she got to suck and massage the farmer's tits!

♡ - When you first came to this town, you had never thought that you would find someone as cute as Maru. When she had introduced herself to you, the way she tried to keep her eyes everywhere but your chest was amusing to say the least, enough to where you wanted to get to know her more! You wouldn't deny that you were a fan of shy girls.

But...you supposed that your least favorite thing about shy women was the potential they had for an overprotective father.

Which Maru had.

Demetrius.

But you were nothing if not patient, you flirted with Maru and talked to her as much as you could. You hardly said a word to her before she was the one who was talking to you until the wee hours of the morning, and you definitely didn't say anything when she started appearing at your house all of a sudden! All as she confessed that she snuck out just to talk to you a little bit longer!

You blushed at the bold confession but it both warmed your heart and worried you, you liked her but you neither wanted to get her into trouble much less have Demetrius coming to your doorstep asking where Maru was when she was a grown woman.

But...you supposed it was too late to be worried about such things now.

Especially as you and Maru were currently in bed together, Maru weakly kneading your tits adorably as her eyes glazed over with pleasure as you circled and played with her clit. "Feels good, huh?" You giggled, another fit of giggles leaving your lips when she nodded her head dumbly. "Cutie...you should use your words~" You then began to slow your fingers down, shocking Maru enough for her to stutter.

"F-Feels good...!" She said. "Don't...don't stop, please?"

Maru suddenly let out a gasp, followed by a soft moan as you quickly started circling her throbbing clit once more, her slick beginning to coat your thigh as she mindlessly started to grind herself against you all as she tried to pleasure you in return via lazily sucking on your tits. Your cunt clenched at the adorable sight, especially how she looked up at you through lidded eyes but tonight wasn't about you, you were intent on giving Maru her first real orgasm with your own fingers.

And...getting her to that point almost seemed too easy with the way she was beginning to squirm, causing you to wrap an arm around her to fasten her to yourself so she wasn't able to escape. "Y' close Maru~?" You whispered in her ear, her clit twitching in response. "Your practically soaking my thigh."

When Maru tried tucking her face in the valley between your breasts, you once again took your fingers away much to her disappointment. "Why—"

"Girls who hide don't get their cunts touched," You said teasingly but with a present firmness that made your lover nod her head before her moans once again began to leave her lips as you pinched her clit. Suddenly, her mind began to spin as the pace of your fingers started to speed up, the mind-numbing pleasure in combination with the brief stints of pain you'd deliver via suddenly pinching her clit creating a delicious concoction that practically made her scream.

Until her vision suddenly blanked, your eyes widening at the way Maru squirted on your thigh as a shrill moan let her throat. You whistled lowly at the arousing sight, your mouth watering as you all of a sudden wished that you could taste it.

But...as your partner's head fell onto your chest, her body heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Once she was finished coming down from her high...you were determined to make her cum again, this time on your mouth.

[tinythebunni]

Can we get some pope x bitchy!kook princess reader (maybe with some bimbo/hoochie R) headcanons I love that fic babes😘🩷

Pope usually never has this problem with you. You’re a bitch to everyone else, never him! He wouldn’t call you a bitch ever but there’s no other synonyms which could correctly describe the situation you’re putting him in.

Since two mornings ago you’ve been in a grouchy mood. You woke up that first day with him facing away from you so you did what any upset girlfriend would do! You used your foot to push him off the bed. Confused, he woke up with a start and looked at you. But all you did was huff in reply and pull the blankets over you.

When he got back up to get into the bed, you turned over and pointed a perfectly manicured and sharpened nail at him.

“if you wanna keep those two balls you got swinging down there, i suggest you stay down.” you snapped. He looked at you but there was not an ounce of hesitancy in your eyes.

Pope sighed and got up, it was 9am anyways. As he left the room to make breakfast he briefly hear you mumble something. He assumed it was just you going back to sleep. As he finished making you both breakfast he walked up the stairs. He neared the bedroom door but saw it was closed. He set the plate down on a table in your hallway, raising a knuckle to knock at the door.

“Wait a fucking minute!” You yelled, frustration evident. He had no idea what he did wrong but he wanted to fix it. fast.

You opened the door after 2 minutes and Popes eyes lit up. “baby” he started as he walked over towards you to hold you. But then as he got closer he did once over of you and he finally saw what you were wearing. You had on a mini skirt he forbid you to wear and a crop top that barely hid your perky nipples from the public. The heels you had on clacked against the floor as you pushed past him and walked away.

Pope was sure he looked like a fish out of water right now. Probably a fucking silly sight to see. Closing his mouth and running after you he reached you before you could get to the door. He pinned you against the wood and made you look at him.

The height difference had your thighs clenching everytime you noticed it, and he noticed the effect it had on you. Trying to keep his mind in check he focused on the issue at hand. “What the hell is wrong babydoll? Tell me what i did please.” He begged, tilting his head to seem more apologetic. You almost gave in, but something changed. You scoffed and shoved him, which did nothing to move his strong frame. “A man thinking everything is about him, classic.”

You tried to get around him but to no avail. He got tired of this game and flipped you over his shoulder. He walked back to the bedroom this all started in with you kicking your feet and pounding at his back.

“Let me down you fucker! I didn’t do anything. This is America and i have free fucking will you bi-“ he shut you up with a swift slap to your clit, the moan that crawled its way out your mouth making him smirk.

When he finally got inside the room, he put you on the bed carefully, but with enough force to let you know he was mad.

“You’re not leaving this room until you apologize and act like a big girl so i can know what’s wrong.” You just stared up at him, letting out “hmph” and turning your head away from him.

“fine. we can’t act like a big girl? Then i’ll treat you like a lil kid. Go stand in the corner.” Your eyes looking up at him with defiance made him only more firm in his stance. He used his strength to pull you to your feet by your forearms. Poor pulled you close and whispered. “Go stand in the fucking corner. ‘m not bullshitting here. Do it, now.” You followed his directions with your head looking down at the floor, a blush in your cheeks, and sluggish walk.

you don’t know how long he made you stand there but eventually your knees got weak and you fell to the floor, kneeling on accident. Before you could get up, he was already there. As if he was watching you, and he was. His eyes never left you.

“Learned your lesson?” Pope asked, rubbing the back of his hand across your cheek. You nodded, leaning up to try and kiss him. “Nuh uh. no kisses for you. Not until i know you’re my good girl again. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

you stood there, staring at your feet. How could you tell him you didn’t know what was wrong? “well?” he asked, getting impatient as he watched you fiddle with your hands.

“don’ know Po. I just wanted some attention” your voice withered as you pouted, tears welling in your eyes from embarrassment.

“Oh my poor thing. I’ve been neglecting you?” with your head nodding yes, he sat on the bed scooped you up in his lap, so you were facing him.

“don’t worry, imma make it all better again. Like daddy always does, ‘Kay?” you stared at him, head already cloudy from the lack of distance between you two. His hand reached up to pull your chin between his fingers, using it to forc you to nod. Pope pulls you closer, finally letting you get the kiss you’ve wanted.

He slides his right hand from your hip down to your lace covered cunt under the skirt. As he thumbs your clit he uses the moment you moan out a gasp to stick his tongue inside your mouth. There’s no fight for dominance, you always welcome the intrusion.

Once he feels like you might be wet enough, he rubs his hand across your lips, feeling your arousal soak his hand. He sticks pointer and middle finger inside without it warning. You whine, the tears finally falling as you look up at him. “Nuh uh. None of that. You’re supposed to be my good girl now, making it up to me and shit. Now sit there and take it. Keep those pretty eyes on me”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. it never does with him. He pays such good attention to you that he just knows how to make you cum quick and how to make it last long and pleasurable. As he speeds up with your walls clenching around him, he uses this moment to leave hickies on your neck. That always makes you cum immediately, and this time is no different.

He lets you ride out your bliss, almost leading you into overstimulation with how he continues even after. He pulls his hand from under your skirt and licks the wetness off his hand. He sticks the same fingers he just had inside you in his mouth, moaning as if it was the sweetest thing in the world.

You paw at his chest, trying to get some of his kisses, but he stops you. “You’ll get what you want in a second baby, we’re not done yet.”

[revelboo]

Been reading up in my free time! Such good writing as always!

Got anything for any of the bug-bots planned? I think they're neat. I just caught up with your Wasp fic lol

Tarantulas and the Insecticons both have storylines going (I like the bugs) ☺️

Disappear Pt 5

Tarantulas x Reader

• “No, just- can you maybe-” Trailing off as you sigh and study his avatar, you’re aware of his real body hovering a bit too close. Feeling one of those creepy spiders legs sliding against the outside of your thigh as he leans closer trying to see better and his venting stirs your hair. Trying to think of a way to tell him not to move like a robot that doesn’t just sound mean considering he is one. Looking up at him, his mandibles flex to make your skin prickle all over. Why did he have to be a giant spider? Turning and shimmying out from between his avatar and his actual body, you offer him a strained smile.

• “Doing it wrong again?” He asks, frame tensing when you retreat. Hates that a part of him is almost overwhelmed with the urge to snare you like prey. Trying to suppress those instincts with proximity, but unfortunately the closer he gets to you, the more skittish you become. Watches you rake a hand through your hair, looking up at him with a frown before you inhale and slowly blow out a breath. And offer him one of your tiny hands. Asking him to touch you even though he knows you don’t enjoy it. That he frightens you.

• Clawed servos curl around your hand as he just stares like he’s as uncomfortable touching you as you are of him. Maybe you’re the creepy one to him. And you’re still trying to understand why you’d stayed when you’d had the opportunity to run away. Most of it boiling down to how lonely he seems. The way he occasionally looks at you while he’s tinkering with something and looks like he’s almost excited, like he’s about to say something before wilting and staying silent. Holding up your other hand, you shiver despite yourself when he carefully grips it, crouching slightly as those huge servos dwarf your hands. Something he seems to realize before he just shrinks a bit, startling you so bad you nearly yank your hands loose and fall on your butt. “Okay,” you mutter, tugging gently and he drops to his actual peds instead of looming on his actual legs. Lets you lead him like you’ve been doing with his avatar. “Why can’t you move the avatar like this?”

• You’re dancing with him. Not his human avatar, him. Unable to answer you as he twines his servos with your fingers, hooks a limb against your back and takes control. Sweeping you about his makeshift lair, trying to remember the steps to a dance he’d only ever witnessed from the outskirts, never danced. Never was asked to dance. Sliding another extra limb up your spine to rest between your shoulders, he can feel your heart racing. “Why touch me when I frighten you?”

• Letting him guide you, your eyes are drawn to the pulse of his biolights on his body. The pattern alternating in rapid pulses that seem to mimic the beating of your heart. And you suppose maybe it’s the danger of him. That he scares you that makes you determined to prove you’re not scared. “You’re not so scary,” you insist. Breath hitching when three of his extra limbs come down behind you to brace himself and he dips you, your hair brushing the floor as two more limbs tuck you close to his frame, his head tipping to study you as he keeps you suspended. ‘I appreciate the lie,’ he says.

Previous

[gilverrwrites]

Now hear me out, #10 on the room prompt with Bruce. I don't know just how to describe it, but something about him having to pay whomever checks the security cameras to stay silent after fucking our brains out is so scumptious. Or maybe not even fucking and just rubbing himself on our pussy to get himself off and leave us needy. Like you have no idea how badly I need this man to cum in my panties while we're at work and tell me to "deal with it."

Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 1.4K words AN: I'm bringing back PA/Secretary reader cause they deserve to keep fucking after the whole pollen fiasco, and we’re going heavy on the Brucie charm for this one. Is this like the third thing in a row I've written that includes our dear old reader being denied? Yes. Am I upset about it? Hell no! Warnings: Semi-public | denial | power imbalance

It doesn’t matter how many times your boss charms himself out of the consequences of being chronically late for every important meeting or event, it always rubs you the wrong way. Fortunately for him though, he’d lucked out, or perhaps planned on it, by wearing those trousers. They may seem like any other of his no doubt massive collection of black fitted trousers, but these ones in particular hug his sturdy thighs in all the right places.

You’re calming down by enjoying the view when the private elevator comes to a bumpy, unexpected stop. You lurch forward, letting out an embarrassing squeal as the lights go out until a pair of steady and familiar hands catch you. He has you comfortingly pressed into his chest when the emergency lights switch on, and he keeps you there, with a firm, soothing grip as he pulls out his phone. As his assistant, it certainly should be your job to be making calls at this point, assuring his investors that you’ll be there when the elevator is back in service and amending his future appointments to make up for lost time but Bruce is already on the line with the 20th floor receptionist and security personnel before you have the chance to beat him to it.

“I could have done all that for you.” You scold when he hangs up.

He shrugs, nonchalantly, chuckling as his hand starts to smooth its way further down your back, settling on your hip, just a half-inch shy of your ass. “Now you don’t have to.”

“Are we going to be stuck in here for long?” As you ask, you lean back to look at him, straightening his tie after your impromptu cuddle had brushed it askew. His baby blues wander upward as he considers his next words and actions until he looks back at you with a playful smile.

“Long enough that we might need to find a way to pass the time.” It’s obvious what he has in mind as his sneaky fingers slowly, but decisively start to gather up your skirt, exposing a little more of your thighs with each curl of his fingers.

Obvious, but not acceptable. “Mr Wayne, the cameras!”

His wrist is too thick for you to wrap your whole hand around but that doesn’t stop you grabbing it. Your objection doesn’t stop him, and when you turn your head to gesture at the aforementioned cameras, he only uses it as an opening to lay his lips on the side of your neck. He rubs his nose against the soft spot below your ear, breathing in your perfume before he starts to press tender and intoxicating kisses to your skin. It's maddening, and you want to melt into them but neither of you want news leaking about Bruce Wayne and his assistant making it to print.

“Sir! I really don’t think we should be doing this in here.” When you object a second time he gives pause, pulling back just enough that you can still feel the warmth of his breath.

“Relax.” His bass-like voice whispers in your ear before he starts to kiss along your jaw until you’re face to face. “Nobody is monitoring the surveillance room right now, and it won’t cost much to have the recording scrubbed. Nobody will know.”

He’s already won his case, he won the moment he started, and he knows to; he’s already wearing his victory look, that lopsided smile, hungry eyes framed by dark and pronounced brows that are begging you to challenge him. But you don’t challenge him, you succumb under his gaze, leaning up to put your arms around his shoulders a kiss him. Now that he has your official permission, Bruce wastes no time hitching up the last of your skirt, trying and failing to keep his amusement under wraps as you gasp and yelp when lifts you by the backs of your thighs, pressing you to the cold metal wall with your legs spread around his hips until you’re rested upon the railing.

“Keep quiet.” He warns with mocking sincerity, eyes fixed on your flushing face as he unbuckles those pants and reaches beneath his boxers. “Unless you want everyone on the 12th floor to get an earful of those dirty noises you make for me.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never had to take something that big before I’d bet.” You’re only half joking, and you know your words have stroked his ego just right by the way he shuts his eyes for a moment, suppressing his blush before he pulls out his half-hard cock. His fingers glide over it ease, bringing it to full attention without breaking his unflinching stare.

“You don’t have to take anything.” The fingers of his other hand hook into your panties, and your whole core clenches around nothing as it’s exposed to the air. He’s excruciatingly gentle he runs his finger along your slit, and you fidget on your precarious perch, desperate for more pressure as he keeps ghosting over your folds.

“I just wanna feel you.” He practically purrs, resting his forehead on yours as he lines up his crown at your entrance. “How wet you are for me.”  

True to his word he doesn’t even try to push into your waiting pussy. Instead, driving his length between your lips, sucking in a breath and bucking up until his tip drags over your clit and down again, one hand cupping the base of his cock to stimulate any parts of him that doesn’t reach between your warm lips.

“Hah.” His jaw grows momentarily slick, lids heavy as he revells in the feel of your wet and puffy folds. “You’re a very accommodating PA, you know. Always ready for me.” His voice breaks as he tries to jest. “Is this okay?”

Though he would have gotten the same response from you where he not stroking your clit with every thrust, the fact that he is certainly motivates your dreamy reply. “Y-yes. Yes Mr Wayne, keep going.”

“Good.” His breath is already shaken and heavy. “Goooood.”

He’s careful as he tucks your panties back into place, covering his cock with it before he connects his lips to yours for a heated, frenzied kiss. A messy kiss, which you deepen every time he grazes your clit just right to make your toes curl in your pumps and your grip on his suit jacket tighten.

A kiss that’s only broken periodically, when Bruce needs a second to bury his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his ragged, whimpers.

Again when you pushed back against him too hard, nearly falling from your improvised plinth.

And once more when the elevator begins to hum back to life, nearly blinding you both with the normal lighting, and causing you both to jerk as it starts to move once more.

“Shit!” You tap at his shoulders, urging him to stop, growing more angsty with each floor that flies by, ignoring how your pussy aches to finish.

“Just. One. More. Second.” Bruce growls between pants, too close to stop, unwilling to stop. Still pumping his length between your folds, each roll of his hips growing harder and further apart. “Almost- fff.”

His voice breaks completely, hard muscles softening in relief as he as he releases himself. The heady feel of his hot cum spilling against your achy pussy makes your body long for more even though your brain says no. Unconsciously you ride against him, smearing his load all over. The sight of it seeping into and staining your underwear making you lightheaded.

Despite your warnings, Bruce is the one to move first, letting you down from the wall and pulling your skirt back down before turning his back to the door just in time for the telltale DING sounds, alerting you both that you’ve reached your stop. With record speed; he tucks himself back in, neat and tidy just in time for the doors to open where Sam the receptionist is waiting to inform you that the investors are still waiting in the boardroom but are getting tetchy.

“I’ll meet you in there.” You tell him, already veering toward the bathrooms.

“No, I need you there.” His voice is terse, but his eyes are knowing.

With as much subtly as possible you gesture to your lower body, where his cum is still warm and seeping into the crevices of your pussy. Your panties, unable to contain it all; are leaking, and with every drop that starts to gradually trickle down your leg, you can feel yourself growing simultaneously more needy and paranoid.

“You’re just gonna have to deal with it.” He’s already got his charming, Brucie Wayne can-do-no-wrong face on as he places an arm around you, just high enough on your back as to not cause suspicion as he guides you toward the meeting room. “I need my best girl.”

[luvfae]

CLEAN, PT 2

summary: after rehab, you reunite with thanos, sharing love, passion, and a fresh start together.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: mention of addiction, swearing, smut, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t be an idiot), p in v.

part 1

Three months ago, Thanos had dragged you—kicking, screaming, and cursing his name—into the same rehab facility where he had gotten clean.

Today, you were walking out.

With no family to pick you up (Thanos didn’t even know if you had any who cared), he was the one waiting.

Three excruciating months apart. He spent every day wondering if you hated him, if you were okay. But no calls from the facility meant you weren’t doing too bad. Meanwhile, you had spent those months drowning in withdrawal, fighting everyone who tried to help, refusing therapy—until eventually, you gave in. And for the first time in years, you felt normal. You started to remember the girl you used to be before the drugs took her away.

Then came the shame. The time lost. You should’ve graduated from art school by now, but instead, addiction had dictated your life. You regretted cutting off your family, pushing away friends until you had none left. You regretted how you had treated Thanos when all he ever did was try to save you.

And now, standing at the door, your hands trembled. Would anyone even be waiting for you?

Then—

“Y/N.”

You blinked.

Thanos.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice shaking. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured, brushing away your tears.

“I didn’t deserve your help,” you admitted, pulling away completely. He caught your hands, grounding you. “I was so awful to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he replied. “Everyone deserves help.”

Sniffing, you wiped your eyes as he led you to his car.

It was strange. You had known Thanos for nine months, lived with him, had sex with him, and yet… you didn’t really know him. Your brain had been so fried on drugs you barely retained any information.

And Thanos was the same. He had taken care of you, paid for your rehab, seen you at your lowest, and yet he didn’t know who you were.

Maybe it was time to change that.

The car ride was quiet at first. You were still getting used to the feeling of sobriety, of being aware. But as the city passed by through the windows, you glanced at Thanos.

“I used to paint,” you blurted out.

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Before everything… I loved painting. I was good at it, too. I was supposed to graduate art school a few years ago. Art was my dream.”

Silence settled for a moment before you continued. “I had a good life. A good family. My parents weren’t perfect, but they cared. I had a future. And then I got caught up with the wrong people.” You swallowed. “I let it ruin me.”

Thanos tightened his grip on the wheel. “It’s not too late.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, your therapist is right,” he said, glancing at you. “You’re clean now. You can start again.”

You didn’t reply, just watched the city blur past.

“What about you?” you asked. “How did you get into rapping?”

Thanos smirked slightly. “It was either rap or go to jail.”

Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“I was a street kid,” he said. “Grew up bouncing between different family members. No real home. I got into some bad shit—gangs, drugs, fights. Ended up locked up a few times as a teenager. But music…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Music was my way out. I started writing lyrics in juvie. Got out, kept at it, got lucky. Somehow, I made it big.”

You stared at him, realizing this was the first real conversation you’d ever had. “Do you love it?”

Thanos was quiet for a beat. “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled softly. “I’d like to hear your songs sometime. Really hear them. Not just in the background while I’m high out of my mind.”

His lips quirked up. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like you were finally getting to know each other.

Thanos had loved you before—loved you in your worst moments, through the chaos, the anger, the addiction. But this version of you? The version that was bright-eyed, passionate, full of life again? He loved this version even more.

As he stole glances at you in the passenger seat, he really saw you for the first time. Your cheeks had filled out, your skin looked healthier, your eyes were wide and alert instead of hazy and half-lidded. And that smile—soft, genuine, real.

You were beautiful.

He pulled into the driveway, and you blinked, tilting your head.

“This isn’t the place I remember,” you said, glancing up at the massive mansion in front of you.

Thanos shrugged. “Bought a new house while you were gone.” He put the car in park and looked over at you. “Wanted to leave the bad memories behind and make good ones here instead.”

You let out a small laugh. “House? More like a mansion.”

Thanos smirked, pushing open his door. “Being rich and famous has its perks.”

You stepped out after him, following him inside. The space was opulent—high ceilings, sleek furniture, stunning artwork lining the walls. You turned in slow circles, taking it all in.

“I’ll donate them to charity,” Thanos said.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“The paintings,” he clarified. “I’d rather have your art on my walls.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, kicking at the floor. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” you admitted. “Not sure I even can anymore.”

Thanos smiled. “I bet you can.”

Before you could argue, he took your hand and led you up the grand staircase, past a few closed doors, before stopping in front of one. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

“This is your room,” he said simply.

You stepped inside, breath catching. It was beautiful. Warm-toned, cozy, welcoming. He walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing racks of neatly hung designer clothes, tags still on them.

“I even got you a new wardrobe,” he added.

You stared at the clothes, shaking your head. “Thanos, this is too much,” you whispered. “After everything I put you through… You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

He turned to you, gaze steady. “I want to.”

His words sat heavy between you. No hesitation, no doubt.

For the first time in a long time, you felt happy.

Real, genuine happiness. The kind that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Or maybe it wasn’t just happiness. Maybe it was something deeper, something terrifying in its intensity.

You stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Thanos met your gaze, unwavering. “You’re welcome.”

You stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t remember a lot from when I was using,” you admitted. “But I remember you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “What do you remember?”

You swallowed hard. “I remember you force-feeding me when I refused to eat. Flushing my stash down the toilet. I remember screaming in your face, kicking holes in your walls.” A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “I remember sleeping with strangers, with your friends—right after you told me you loved me.” Your voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. But that wasn’t the real me. I swear.”

Thanos nodded, watching you carefully. “I know,” he said simply. “But there were good times too, right? You remember those?”

You did.

You remembered the way he’d tuck you in at night, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way he’d run a bath for you after you got sick all over yourself, holding you steady as he cleaned you up. The way he kissed you like he was willing to set the world on fire for you. The way he touched you, loved you, even when you were too far gone to truly feel it.

“I remember how you made me feel,” you whispered, stepping closer.

His lips parted, his breath hitching as your fingers traced up his chest.

“I remember your hands,” you murmured, voice turning sultry. “Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers.” Your hand slid lower, brushing over the hardening bulge in his jeans. “Your cock inside me.”

Thanos inhaled sharply as you pushed your palms against his chest.

You had spent weeks thinking about this—about fucking him sober. About feeling everything for the first time.

“You made me feel so good,” you purred. “So fucking good, Thanos.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “My real name is Su-bong,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked. “Well—Su-bong…” Your eyes darkened with intent. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good I can be.”

That was all it took.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you toward the bed. You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he wasted no time pushing you onto your back, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor.

You sat up slightly, dragging your fingertips down his toned abdomen, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

He was already hard for you.

And this time, you were completely, devastatingly sober.

You dragged your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, firm—real. For the first time, you were feeling him, not just through a hazy drug-fueled blur, but with a clarity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos—Su-bong—looked down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips parted slightly as he took you in. “You’re teasing me,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lower, letting them ghost over the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe,” you mused. “I owe you, don’t I?”

His hands slid up your sides, rough palms skimming the soft fabric of the shirt he had given you months ago—the same one you had walked out of rehab in. Slowly, he peeled it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every little mark and scar. You weren’t the frail, hollow version of yourself anymore. You were whole.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, his fingers trailing over your ribs, then up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You let out a soft gasp, arching into his touch.

His mouth found your throat, lips pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He sucked lightly at your pulse, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Su-bong,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair.

He groaned at the way you said his name, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing at your waist, your hips, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You tugged at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, your fingers slipping inside to brush against the hard length beneath his boxers. He let out a sharp exhale, hips jerking forward slightly at your touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours. “You really want this?”

You wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse under his breath. “More than anything,” you whispered.

His lips crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed you back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You gasped as he kissed his way down your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans, he hooked his fingers into them, glancing up at you for permission.

You lifted your hips in response, breath hitching as he dragged them down, taking your panties with them, exposing you completely to him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and devoured you.

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Your fingers twisted into his hair, hips jerking instinctively, but he pinned you down with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, his voice thick with hunger. “Missed this pussy so much.”

A whimper slipped from your lips as he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your back arched, thighs trembling, but just as the pleasure built, just as you felt yourself spiraling, you pushed at his shoulders.

Thanos pulled back, his mouth glistening, brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. “This is about you, not me,” you murmured, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “I’m paying you back.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “If it’s about me, then I should get to do what I want,” he countered, voice low, dangerous. “And what I want to do is fucking taste you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, heat surging through your body.

Before you could protest further, he dove back in, his tongue circling your clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling just right. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking as he worked you open, relentless and precise.

It didn’t take long—he knew exactly how to unravel you, exactly how to have you gripping his hair and gasping his name. Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body shaking as he held you down, licking you through every wave until you were panting, overstimulated.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking smug.

“Fuck,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “I forgot how good you were at that. Feels even better sober.”

His smirk widened. “Unforgettable, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Pushing him onto his back, you straddled his hips, hands sliding up his chest, fingers teasing over his nipples before raking down his abs.

“My turn,” you whispered.

You kissed down his body, taking your time, nipping at his collarbones, sucking marks into his skin just to watch him tense beneath you. When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you tugged them down, freeing his cock, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him—thick, hard, already leaking.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slow, teasing. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna take care of me, baby?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tip, then dragged your tongue along his length, watching the way his stomach tensed beneath you.

“Of course,” you murmured, voice dripping with promise.

And then you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as he let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hair.

Your tongue worked him slowly, dragging along every inch of his length, teasing just to hear him groan. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat, moaning around him just to feel the way he twitched in your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Thanos growled, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Missed your mouth—so perfect, so fucking good for me.”

The praise only made you more eager. You bobbed your head, stroking the rest of him with your hand, slick and messy, making sure to keep your eyes on him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw clenched, his muscles tense as he fought to keep control.

But you didn’t want him to be in control.

You pulled off him with a lewd pop, kissing up his abs as you moved to straddle his waist. His cock was hard, flushed, throbbing against your soaked folds as you rubbed against him, teasing both of you.

“Hey,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “Quit teasing.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers threading into his hair. “You always take care of me,” you whispered against his lips. “Let me take care of you now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding him to your entrance before sinking down onto him in one slow, delicious slide. Both of you gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching around him, molding to him perfectly like you were made for this.

“Jesus,” Thanos groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into your hips as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“You feel so good,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the way he filled you so perfectly. “So fucking good, Su-bong.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his real name on your lips, dark and wild with lust. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you continued moving, grinding against him, taking him deeper.

You moaned, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, your tongues tangling, the pleasure building between you like a fire. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, rocking faster, harder. “Thank you for saving me. For never giving up on me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he flipped you onto your back, keeping you pinned beneath him, his hips snapping against yours, hitting deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his voice rough, possessive. “Always fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him to pull him even closer. “Only yours.”

His pace turned desperate, his thrusts brutal yet somehow still so full of love, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

And when you came—hard, clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning into your mouth as he filled you, his entire body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your hearts racing in sync.

Then Thanos kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. “I still love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I love you too.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go, you knew—you meant it.

You lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, your skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against your neck. The weight of him felt comforting, grounding, like you never wanted him to move.

But eventually, you stirred, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of his arms.

“Where are you going?” Thanos mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Relax, I’m just grabbing a towel.”

You padded to the bathroom, your legs still wobbly, but you didn’t care. You cleaned yourself up before wetting a towel, you returned to the bed, settling beside him as you began to clean him up, running the cloth over his stomach, down between his legs, gentle and careful.

Thanos watched you, his expression soft, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He huffed out a small laugh, letting you do as you pleased, though his hands never stopped touching you—gliding over your arm, your waist, like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

When you were done, you tossed the towel aside, crawling back into his embrace, peppering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Thanos smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I think you fucked the happiness into me,” you teased, making him chuckle before he suddenly rolled you onto your back, hovering over you, nuzzling into your neck.

You giggled, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him up so you could kiss him properly. Slow, lazy, sweet.

After a while, you pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Thank you for the room,” you said softly. “But… I think I’d rather share a bed with you, if that’s okay?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. “That’s more than okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled, burying your face in his chest, and for the first time in years, you felt home.

You still had a long road ahead—staying clean, rebuilding bridges with your family, reenrolling in art school. But those were worries for another day.

For now, you stayed wrapped in Thanos’ arms, making up for lost time, showering him with the love you should have given him all along.

[sunflower1experiment]

Children (Risk's Prequel 2.0)

pt1, pt2

Harley is so full of himself, sometimes dating him was like dipping your hand in a rose bush. Like him they were beautiful. charming, hell you even considered the relationship with him to be a thorn bush without the roses. But it was the day something happened in the labs, you went in and noticed the toys were crying? "What happened?"

You march by and comfort them, "What is wrong with them!?" The other scientist who fails to answer at first, backs away but then she feels you lean in. "What happened? Answer."

"You really don't know? Of course not, not when you're busy playing work wife for Sawyer." You glance at Leith, eyes filling with animosity.

"Mind running that by me? What is wrong with my children?"

"Ah so you claim them. Well, let me break it down, your children, they are not just toys. You of all people should have noticed the vast majority of the new high rise of emotions and tension between them and us." What is he spouting about!? You look at Stelle with a curious eyebrow quirk, she avoids your gaze and once more you return to Leith's cold side glance.

"Sawyer didn't....inform me..."

"Of course not, why would he want to break his favorite sentimental experiment's heart." It goes quiet.

The toys who coward behind you, look up as he leaves, as everyone leaves. You kneel down to study them, then your eyes begin to well up. "......Prototype was serious."

The little ones start to hug your feeble form, while you realize how terrible and naive you are the sounds of shoes fill your ears. "You, you're different..." A pink hand holds your shoulder, a long arm follows after and hugs you.

"No need to cry, Mommy's here." You look at this so-called Mommy, and realize why you recognize this voice, it couldn't be, not her.

"Marie Payne?" She backs up with a slight chuckle and the little toys cling to your hand sadly while Mommy stands on the ground, "So you know, or you did know. What makes you think you're different from them?"

"I'm not, I failed...I-"

"Then stop wallowing and do something!" Mommy's hand punches the ground, this was obviously Marie talking. You firmly nod but then hug the toys again, Banzo bunny, the mini huggys, Daisy, Cat-Bee, so many of these little ones.

When you leave the toys behind you take one more glance at them, Mommy watches with a somber stare, Harley took you for a fool didn't he? Or did he simply know how senstive you were.

You couldn't let these children starve, going back home, it meant missing dinner, breakfast, sure but they had to eat. Risking your job would be worth it regardless, Leith calling you an experiment was one thing but to be embarrassed by everyone? Over his dead body, whenever you returned to work with food, you'd just make a simple curt excuse, then place the boxes and containers down.

"What is this?" Mommy grabs the food, "This will feed you all, starvation leads to difficult actions. Now come on. We have to take care of the kids."

She was in shock, for you to get back up after a day, why weren't the adults who hurt her like you? Even if you played a role, the willingness to do better still prevails. Maybe, she looks at your lab coat while you feed the children fruits, "Maybe there are some good people."

It was a lot to handle, a bit overwhelming even but you didn't pull any punches, but when you met with Harley, you both were quiet. He was sent to sleep on the couch that night. Three days would pass, and he’d check on you, “Dear?”

“What did you do with those orphans I cared for?” Harley kicks himself, cursing Leith, Stella and Eddie. Those three were told to keep you away, how can he adore you if you know too much!? Your face of revulsion or disappointment, so he gently holds your hand, “What do you mean?”

“Harley, do not play dumb with me, you’re smart and that's what I love about you…” Of course, of course he should be honest…. “I, well Elliot said we should do this for the betterment of humanity, I’m simply following orders.” The audacity, you were there when he argued with Elliot and everyone knew he had anger issues. 

That was why you chose to avoid Harley but you both attracted each other, he was enamored by your genuine curiosity and adoration for simplistics, meanwhile he always had such charisma with that gentle tone, polite demeanor and fascination with anatomy. Were you in love with a facade perhaps? “So you knew, and didn’t tell me?”

 He didn’t deny the knowledge but to deliberately not tell you, why? So Kissy, her stress, Mommy, Huggy, and who else? Harley hated it when you cried, he knew when the tears fell that you’d rebel or probably not speak to him. Relationships were complicated, but you both communicated and that was what made Harley stay, yet this time he knew you’d speak your mind. So he did what he could to try and change the perception of the situation.”You know I love you, I would never lie.” 

His hand falls flat and he clutches it, your face wasn’t shedding tears but they looked disappointed. You then hold your stomach before hugging him sadly, “.....One more question, what did you do…with him?”

No, not him, not the boy… 

“Him?” That was the answer you needed, “How can I trust you if you won't even tell me the truth?"

Why? Why were you so sentimental!? Did you not realize the risks? No, of course not.

--

NSFW, CW and TW // Minors DNI (signs of pregnancy, intimacy for NSFW)

CW// Signs of emotional abuse, self-loathing, child experimenting, and abuse

TW// Slight suicidal thoughts. (If you ever feel this way, be sure to call a trusted friend/adult or the hotline, know that you are not alone, you are deserving of care and to be heard.)

"I'm sorry, I’ll make sure to do better..." You nod into his hand while his gentle gaze remains on you, he may be a liar but Harley knew he adored you, you’re perfect. His perfect experiment, the only one who understands him, the only responsive and reactionary force he wished to invest in after he was tired from his other sets of experiments. He slept in the bed beside you, his larger hands resting along  the arm while you remained in Harley’s arms, you were naive even when you held so much unconditional love for him. His lips travel to your neck, hands intertwined together in the moment where Harley’s lips touch, he notices how much your lips embellish his growing adoration. 

When things start to heat up, Harley is there, his arms will wrap around your waist while you admire him, those worry wrinkles, his gentle hands with calluses, and most of all his gaze. Bed creaking, your soft sounds of breathing filling the doctor’s ears whenever those hands of his would roam your frame. At some point he had a moment of lingering, a longing, and it makes him wonder what would you have done if he told the truth? Would you love him enough to fix things, perhaps give him a chance. It was wishful thinking on his end, especially when it comes to his lover. In the intensity of this heated moment between you both, he could feel your hands resting along his face or they’d move to hold him close. 

His deep chuckles and breaths, while you both share more kisses than one can count, Harley would let himself sink into your arms while he indulges in everything he loves. About you, it was strange to be in love with someone, someone of his intellect falling for you. A scientist with a bleeding heart and someone who was always willing to cater to him.

Harley would simply lose his mind at the idea of not being able to cradle your form, in life or death maybe but, he simply wouldn't allow it. Not when someone as perfect as you, could fit his standards of experimentation.

Every fiber of your being knew something was wrong, even after you began cuddling again, his grasp of you was firm with the iron grip. The way he’d kiss your forehead while you lean into his bare chest, “Hey....if Leith ever talks to you poorly, let me know…and, try not to worry about the toys. You should be focused on our work.” It goes silent, as you cuddle into him with a distant sad gaze, taking note of his slightly serious tone. 

“Okay..”

--

You lied, now you were worrying for the children more than ever, feeding them and then the visit to Kissy’s room, carefully feeding her you note the long gaze. Kissy slowly moves forward and then her slender arm moves carefully; she begins hugging you close. “It's okay Kissy, I’m fine.”

How could someone of your caliber be so naive and caring? Especially when she and these children rely on you, the only adult to make this right?

"So, you and Harley?" Stella tries to make conversation, you merely nod in agreement, even if he had to sleep on the couch for a couple of days. Somehow it always worked out, because you'd still feed him, tend to him, you could be angry right now and he's already slipping through those cracks and crevices. But when he was angry, he was never one to aim it at you but when he did, you'd offer a hug, some time alone or just to talk.

The thing is this anger wasn't ever aiming to you: his partner, but instead your coworkers who could feign innocent all they want, yet none of them were any better than you or Harley. That is why you hated your sense of morals; how could you date a potential child abuser? What if, he hurts....

"Mz.?" You startle when Stella speaks again, gently moving the Candy-cat toy so he wouldn't get hurt. "I- need to check on the children."

She frowns, "Hey, um...If...Harley is..."

"What?"

"You'll come to me if he does anything right?" Stelle asks, you pause then turn to her while she gives a somber smile to assure any form of Desolate emotions that threaten to spill out.

"Stelle, you and Leith know what he is doing. You never told me; we are no better than him and you shouldn't try to be of help when these children are being treated this way. The least I can do is comfort, nurture and love them." As your back turns to the woman who watches your retesting form she looks down, gripping the Zinnia while Harley, as if to mock her walks by with a Tuberose flower.

He places it in your vase, then looks to Stella, "You should focus on work. I'm sure you both will find a way to rekindle whatever friendship you had."

Whatever Harley told you it was obvious he didn't realize how much it would hurt you at the end, Stella saw the signs clear as day. She was your friend, easy to socialize with, but you always took the time to listen to her dreams and desire to care for the children. As you place more food down for the little ones, Mommy finally speaks again.

"I saw you with Kissy, she's being moved...further down, and... there are more...down below."

"Down, below?" Mommy couldn't help but scowl at your naivety, she felt sorry for you. ".....That boy, Quinn?"

What about Quinn? She tells you softly while you listen, her hands grip your arms to keep you from running. Being outraged, it was quiet...

Down below, Quinn, Marie, how many children...

One last thing to do.

You step into the lab, where Prototype remains. "gOoD tO sEe-E you, mY dEAr.." His metallic hands carefully hold your soft fleshy ones.

But you merely look away, he senses the hesitation to speak and realizes how much you knew. "s0 thE dOcTeR t-TRu-TRULY! Truly did fail, you know a lot but how much?"

Enough to where you were sitting before his creation, "I...I am not any better than him. I asked him to stop hurting you, he was...."

"Angry?" The experiment says in his voice to which you wince and then nod slowly, "Yes but it wasn't enough, you and I both know that." Prototype lifts your chin up.

"oF cOurSe."

"I'm sorry, I cannot apologize enough, I so badly wanted to think that, not everyone is truly a monster, and these children deserve the best....as many have said: Children deserve parents, but parents do not deserve children or deserve to even be parents. But I was truly naive, Mommy knows this." As the Prototype listens, he also twitches.

Harley was coming, so he gently shushes you and then points. You stand, grabbing the files but before you leave. You speak one more time, "Please do not hurt the children, and don't let vengeance cloud your perception."

With that you leave with the door shutting behind you, Harley walks in and notices the files. At first, he wanted to start a long lecture about his experiments being disturbed but you hand him the files. "Sorry, I wanted to help you work..."

Harley smiles at you for a quick moment but then you both go your separate ways, until you stop. "Harley."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered the thought of children?"

He pauses at the question, thinking of the implications of you having his child...the thought occurred to him during your intimate nights together. But he truly didn't see the resolve, especially when there are children surrounding you every day. "No, not when we have the Playtime Co. You and I are truly different."

It goes quiet and you leave, but not after chuckling to his little banter. Of course, Harley Sawyer is so full of himself. Very apathetic, very....

Foolish.

Sometimes, life felt like grappling at a thread just to see you survive, the more food you'd distribute the more guilt you felt.

The last straw was probably when you asked him to go down below. ".....Of course, is there a reason?"

"Of course, I want to see my partner's work up close." Harley couldn't help but crack a smile, he holds your hand, like always as if trying to form some sort of emotional power balance. Then his lips connect to your head, "I'd be happy to."

.....

What have you done?

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

when people (esp lower support needs ppl) talk about how autism “spectrum” as in like rainbow color instead of light to dark or green to red single gradient mild to severe n about spiky profile n like. always make me wince.

“ehhhh— no—ye—but no—but also yes—”

n when have this reaction people expect condense that into binary “yes” “no”, n in this case “must” be say “no”

but that not… really right

what be call “spiky profile” exist, right? like pretty common in online autism community, for example, someone struggle with like, put thought into word lot more than what most be expect for someone verbal & high vocab & bubbly & stuff.

so if ask that person rate struggles 1-5, 5 be most difficult 1 be least difficult, may rate like “word communication” (can’t think of word rn) as 5, because they exist in nondisabled neurotypical world so keep be compare to nondisabled NT people n so feel extreme out of place. n let’s say they not struggle with hyper & hyposensitivity as much, so rate as 2.

but what 5 mean n what 2 mean? is struggle be define as how distressed by it? or by more objective amount skill you have in that area?

another autistic person minimally verbal, in both speech & language can only use like, 10 words on regular basis. n at best can only combine 2 words together. but they have very violent n distressing meltdowns so they n caregivers rate meltdown n aggression as 5 n look at language, n go, well struggle lots, but like, meltdown most distressing symptom, n speech language not compare, n their circle of people is people at self contained moderate/severe special education classroom where so many kids fully nonverbal, so hey at least can speak n language some right? so rate it 4.

is first person’s 5 more struggle than second person’s 4 then? after all, 5 greater than 4, right? (rhetorical question)

do outside people get bump first person’s 5 down to 2 or 1 then? even tho they very distress by it in world where expect 0?

what 5 mean? what 2 mean?

.

another example. autistic person diagnose “severe” “profound”

they do not speak by mouth, n also have extreme struggle in use language, so both speech language rate 5. they have big n small routine from which bowl use which brand of specific food eat at what time sit where to big day routines, and meltdown whenever any “smallest” change happen, so that also be 5. they extremely sensitive to touch to sound to clothes to texture to point scream when touch n have feeding tube bc not eat enough malnutrition bc food texture n only have like 3 clothes wear n refuse throw them away will meltdown if do bc change, so that also be 5. they not look at people (not to mention eye contact) not respond to name when called no joint attention, so 5 on reciprocity. can go on n on, but u get point.

n when say they scream n meltdown do mean that n they broken walls n object n furniture n bones n bled n had to ER n had permanent body damage from meltdowns. so also 5.

if put on that rainbow circle chart, would be whole circle.

is not gotcha. these people exist. it not bad negative insult say they exist.

n maybe still too “extreme” of example, but there even more people who maybe few of these, 1, 2, 3, be rate lower number, but majority still be rate 5.

maybe their “better skill” still rate at 4. or maybe even still enough to be 5 - just slightly less intense 5.

know people like this.

in this rainbow spectrum circle wheel. if we go by “amount skill you have/not have in compare to all autistic people”. not all, but many people diagnose “severe” “profound” “low functioning” “high support needs” would have majority 4-5s.

.

want be clear that not saying like, spiky profile false. wrong. not exist. or that linear better, more accurate, that we should go back to it.

n also not say rainbow spectrum circle wheel not have place in high support needs autistic people lives. or that all high support needs autistic people lall struggle with things in different parts (speech, language, cues, restricted interest, repetitive behaviors, etc) all same amount all extremely.

it’s just that. you all don’t understand high support needs people, or people diagnose level 3, “severe” “profound” “low functioning.” n create new way measure autism not going make that magically better or hide that fact.

rainbow spectrum circle wheel can be better system. except a lot you all using it to erase for lack better word, “severity” (or “sheer amount”?) of high support needs struggles, you use that wheel not to talk about how all autism dynamic. you actually use that to erase autism dynamic different. you use it to make us all same. you use it to try get close to us in not accurate way.

autism dynamic different only allowed if it for you.

but whenever we say hey we also pretty different you get mad because that invalidating your struggles, or whatever.

all autistic people similar but this not it.

rainbow circle wheel have use n purpose n improve but this not it.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Four (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Every action has a consequence.

Words: 1540

Warnings: Arguments, talks of death, canon death, language?

A/N: I'm alive. I haven't forgotten this. I also have Covid so forgive me. K, thanks!

-X-

Agatha’s feet carried her forward, through endless expanse as she searched for Nicky before—

Two small, thin arms wrapped around her, his head pressing against her stomach as he barreled into her. “Mama!” his voice cracked, burrowing deeper into her grasp.

Breath catching painfully in her chest, Agatha sunk to her knees, gathering him into her arms and just… holding him, silent tears streaming down her face. He smelled just like she remembered—of earth and rain and everything good in her world. Everything good she’d ever done.

-X-

Trembling hands caressed your face, wiping away sweat and tears as your breathing grew shallow, lips paling.

“W-what’s happening?” Teen asked nervously, flinching at Rio’s cold, unwavering glare.

“Which part? The part where you shouldn’t exist right now and neither should this godforsaken Road? How your powers just sent (Y/N) and Agatha into the realm of the afterlife because you can’t control your abilities? Or the part where—” Rio choked on her words, staring down at your unmoving body, “—Life is dying?”

Teen’s jaw dipped open, eyes wide with horror. “W-what?”

The other witches took a step back, sensing the brewing storm within Rio, eyes flickering between the boy and the scene before them.

“You, Teen, are Billy Maximoff. Son of the Scarlet Witch and the creator of the Witch’s Road. Congratulations, you’ve turned a con into a reality and in doing so, have damned Life to die because you briefly gave Agatha Harkness enough power to drag my other half into the fucking afterlife!” her words were sharp, cracking around the edges. “The living can’t come back from the afterlife! In letting Agatha have exactly what she wanted, Life made a choice… and she…”

Shaking fingers drifted along your cheeks.

“God, why did you do it?” she asked your still form. “You idiot. You stupid, wonderful, selfless idiot.”

“Wait, wait, hold up. (Y/N) is Life?” Jenn repeated, her eyes jumping between you and Rio. “So does that make you—”

“Death,” Lilia finished, though it wasn’t a question.

Tilting her head slightly, Rio’s eyes never left you. “Ding, ding, ding. Thank you for playing, witches. So, unless anyone has any useful ideas right this second, I need you all to shut the hell up while I think.”

For once…

The Road was silent.

And Rio had no ideas of how to solve this fucking mess.

-X-

Staggering towards Agatha and Nicky, you forced your body to keep moving, even as the afterlife demanded more from you the longer Agatha remained. Seeing her clinging to Nicky tugged at your heart and you hated yourself for what you were about to do. Dragging her away.

“Mommy!” Nicky gasped, peering over Agatha’s shoulder at you, his excitement fading into worry. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

Stiffening slightly, Agatha glanced over her shoulder at you, eyes widening at the blackening veins pulsing on your face, the paleness of your lips, the shadows nipping at your heels…

“Hey, baby,” you rasped, collapsing beside Agatha and gently combing your fingers through his long hair. “I uh… I’m okay. I have to take Mama home though. I’m sorry, we can’t stay.”

Nicky’s expression dropped but he nodded. “I know. It’s not Mama’s time.”

Reaching up, his small hand touched your cheek, knowing something’s wrong even if he can’t understand it. His other hand touched Agatha’s.

“Please stop fighting,” he whispered to Agatha, holding her gaze. “It wasn’t their fault. Someday, we’ll be a family. All of us. You and Mommy and Mami… we’ll all be happy again.”

Maybe it’s the light shining in his eyes or the actual health keeping his face colored or maybe it’s the confidence in his voice but something—even if she didn’t want to admit it—began to warm in her chest, regret flooding into her eyes as she really took you in. How sick you suddenly seemed. The way you were panting, despite not needing air. The way your glow seemed…

Dim.

Smiling softly—in pain, in heartbreak—you grabbed Agatha’s hand and tangled your fingers together before closing your eyes, yanking both of you back into your bodies before she could try and stop you.

Then…

There was only darkness.

-X-

Agatha awoke with a gasp, sitting upright abruptly. The Road. She was on the Road again—lying in the wet mud—but…

Glancing around, she saw everyone surrounding… something.

“And here I thought this coven would be happy to know I’m fine,” she half-joked, staggering to her feet and wandering over to group, almost offended by the lack of reaction. “Really feeling the sisterhood here.”

Before she could even reach the circle, Rio’s hand was wrapped around her neck, shoving her into a tree. Scathing remarks on the tip of her tongue, she froze at the look of absolute fury on Rio’s face. Of all the things she’d said and done over the centuries, she’d never been on the receiving end of this expression…

This hatred.

“Agatha Harkness, you selfish, thoughtless woman! Hate me all you want but she—” Rio choked on her words, emotion swimming so deeply in her eyes that it nearly stole Agatha’s breath. “—she always saw the best in you. Forgave you for whatever you said; whatever you did. But this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What fucking mess you’ve caused? No, because you don’t ever think about anyone other than yourself!”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha choked out, fingers wrapping around Rio’s wrist in an attempt to loosen her grip.

Dragging her by her throat over to your body, Rio snarled, “Look!”

There, motionless on the ground, you lied. Pale in the moonlight of the Road, eyes fluttering, chest barely rising—

You looked like a damn corpse, something Agatha never once expected to see. You, so full of energy and life, snuffed out like a candle in a windstorm, only embers remaining where your flames once burned. Your fingers twitched, as if reaching out for something unseen but too weak to find.

“Nothing living can return from the afterlife. It demands a price, a price, for any mortal that passes through—and she fucking paid yours.” Rio’s lip trembled, staring at the dying body of her counterpart.

Her perfect other half.

For the first time in her existence, Agatha Harkness was struck speechless. You, who always stood by her side even when she screamed and raged and hated… you, who vowed to love her even as Agatha scorched the earth around her… you who could’ve left her to the afterlife…

“(Y/N),” she breathed, dropping to her knees beside you, a trembling hand reaching out to touch your face, only to be caught by Rio and yanked away, nearly knocked backwards onto her ass.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” she hissed, carefully lifting your body into her arms to cradle you to her chest. Feeling the way your heartbeat was waning beneath her palm. Sluggish. Barely beating. “You’ve done enough.”

Agatha’s lips parted, but no words came. There was nothing she could say. For once, the woman who had spoken her way into and out of every situation imaginable—who always found an angle to tip the scales in her favor—was utterly, horrifyingly speechless. For all her dark knowledge… she was completely unprepared.

A broken, strangled sound escaped her lips, and she moved again, reaching for you instinctively. “Rio, please—”

“No,” Rio spat, pulling you tighter against her chest. Her arms curled around you as if shielding you from the very woman who had caused this, her visage flickering for a split second. An unspoken warning. “You don’t get to ask anything of me. Of her. Not anymore.”

Agatha recoiled like she’d been struck, breath hitching sharply in her throat. She wanted to argue, to lash out, to fix this—but there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. For the first time, she actually felt how powerless she really was.

"Please, baby," Rio whispered, this time directed at you. At the barely-there rise and fall of your chest. "Stay with me. Don’t leave me; I can’t do this without you."

But even as she begged, even as she reached for something unseen, something that was already slipping between her fingers, trying to call upon something—anything, the truth sat heavy in the air.

You were dying.

And there wasn’t a damn thing Death could do to stop it.

Jenn took a step forward, hesitant. “There has to be something we can do.” Her voice wavered, but there was determination in her eyes, staring at your still body. “Life isn’t a mortal, so that means the afterlife can’t just… take her.”

Rio let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. “Oh, sure. Go ahead, Jenn. If you have a way to defy the fundamental laws of existence and the cosmos and the afterlife I’ve cultivated for millennia, be my guest. Clearly a bunch of half-assed witches know more than an actual cosmic entity.”

Jenn bristled but she kept quiet, knowing this wasn’t just anger—this was unadulterated grief. The panic of not being able to stop what felt inevitable.

And if they didn’t hurry…

There would be no life left to save.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,” It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 5: Let’s Talk About Sex

I was mostly planning to check in again after the current Japanese shows ended, but after three out of four sex scenes left me wanting this week, I want to write down my ideas. I maintain that bed scenes, like action scenes, need to tell us more about the characters. Many sex scenes serve as a release of tension or confirmation of existing feelings. As usual, MAME seems to understand this, and others should probably take notes. 

Call Me By No Name is Doing Nothing For Me (5/8)

I have just about given up on this show. I don’t get Megumi’s whole deal, why she’s so in love with Kohata, or Kohata’s reticence. I was really hoping that an intimate scene would open up some space for vulnerability and truth with them to give us some answers about why these two weirdos are drawn to each other, but that’s not what we got. I was hoping that when we saw these two go at it we’d learn how much Megumi has felt for women before, or how she responded to Kohata’s experience. Instead, I’m left feeling cold by the whole affair, and generally baffled by the conflicting themes around going somewhere she did cutesy girl nights before, and ordering the cute food. This one is a chop.

Impression of Youth is Wasting My Time (5/9)

I have my own squicks as a former teacher with stories where a teacher messes around with their student. However, I don’t see the point of doing a teacher-student story if we’re not going to explore any of the lines being crossed here. We also didn’t get a good arc about the student helping the teacher properly reconnect with a feeling, or discover something, that helped him get back to his art. We simply had him start painting on the beach again, the kid confessed, and then they fucked with awkward kissing. I was a bit let down by the brother’s fast encouragement of the whole thing. It felt like they were reaching for the same energy we had in Call Me By Your Name (2017) with Oliver and Elio, but it’s missing the component where Oliver knew what he was doing the whole time for me. The overall alignment feels off, and I’m getting so little emotion from this show as a result. On top of all that, they showed us the kid’s boxers before implying he was nude in the shower! Ridiculous! 

When It Rains It Pours is Being Shy About Sex in a Show About Cheating (5/7)

This is the biggest offender of the week for me. This show is all about how the leads cannot have sex from the people they love, and find someone they can commiserate with in each other. When the dam finally breaks and they both need the release in each other, I was so dismayed that the show tried to gloss over as much of the sex as possible. It’s so fucking annoying for me when the shows about sex get precious about it and won’t show it. I was thankful that they tried to capture all the emotions happening around the weekend they spent together, but I think we lost a lot in not having Hagiwara blow Sei, because you just know that man has a people pleasing streak that would require him to give pleasure back. The lack of sex also means that there is no gap time between the infidelity and the discovery. We don’t give enough time for the shift in their relationship to breathe before the crisis (@respectthepetty). I’ve lamented before about Japanese shows only showing toxic or breakup sex, and so it’s damned annoying that they’re doing that in the cheating show because they probably want these guys to be together by the end. I was really hoping Mood Indigo would have some company finally (especially after Love in the Air Koi), but I clearly need to stay patient. Cannot overstate how lame it is for the show about two guys cheating because their partners won’t fuck them being shy about the sex effectively sides with the partners who won’t fuck them. Finally, I am not over them getting the insertion angle wrong while making points about it!!

Your Sky Could Have Been A Good Follow-Up on 2gether

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit because I don’t know what I want to say about this one. I was really into it in the beginning, but it felt like this show didn’t really know what it wanted to do after resolving the issues with Oh. I personally liked the dad being confronted by his wife and father about the way his homophobia was hurting his son, but I didn’t really enjoy it as a Very Special Episode. I would have also liked to see Teerak’s newfound assertiveness in this period beyond is refusal to cave. I think this show also deeply underutilized its own supporting characters, especially the side couples. Still, I thought Thomas was probably the most beautiful newest BL boy we’ve gotten, and I liked the way he and Kong worked together. I also really enjoyed Teerak being allowed to want sex, ask for it, and take charge of it. That’s so important for a cute character. Letting us know that Teerak has also become protective of the private moments he has with Fah, and is growing into his desire for Fah really is a great way to finish a show.

Final Verdict: 7, Recommended With Reservations. I find it hard to give this a stronger recommendation. I just think the show ends up being overall inessential from how much of it ends up being fluff that doesn’t connect much to each other. The biggest things I liked were Fah and Teerak, especially in the early episodes, and I liked the family dynamics. Still, I feel like this show didn’t know what to do without Tine’s internalized homophobia, and what to do with Fah’s ex that was mentioned. There’s just too much hanging off this to recommend it as a strong drama. Everyone is very pretty, and the performances are earnest. It’s a show that means well, even if it’s a bit indulgent. 

The Boy Next World Understands that Phu Has a Dick (5/10)

MAME, as usual, understands the assignment. There’s no way that their first encounter is going to be Cir showing up to stick is dick in Phu’s ass. He’s been obsessed with this boy for years in a way that prioritizes Phu’s wellbeing. It was absolutely correct to payoff that Cir keeps making Phu hard by having Cir take care of him, let us see that Phu enjoyed it. Like @babyangelsky I think it’s important that we let go of the notion that cute characters cannot want and enjoy sex. We got so much from this. We know that Cir likes to give pleasure, and that he’s not going to ask for it from Phu. We also know that Phu cares about Cir, too, because he asked about his time in the bathroom (Cir clearly jerked off and rinsed his mouth, y’all). What’s so excellent about putting a sex scene at this point is it means we’ll see their sex change after Phu learns that Cir has been stalking him for years. MAME is consistently the best storyteller at using the kisses and sex to help inform the arc of the relationship. Most importantly, she gets what the angles are supposed to be.

Ossan’s Love Thailand Is…Fine (5/12)

I’m not really into this one much right now, despite what I think is a pretty solid performance from Krit Shahkrit. I understand the choice to go back to making Kongdech a widower, but I don’t think giving him a daughter who initially opposed the romance added much to this for me. I’m hoping activating Thor’s character next week will add some energy to this for me, because I’m feeling a bit flat with it at this point. I’m glad they’re letting Earth and Mix continue to play adult characters, but it doesn’t feel like they knew what they wanted to do with office romance dynamics here.

Gelboys is a Welcome Return from Boss Kuno (1/7)

Started this today and I am seated. I really love how much it feels like we get to actually be inside of Bangkok. I love that we opened with an ad for the Bangkok rail system as a mechanism for freedom. I love how filming on iphones has enhanced the naturalistic feeling of the production. I also love how we completed the major arc of the het angst of Make It Right in the first like five minutes. Incredible stuff. I’m so excited to see the mess Fou4Mod is going to make of everything, and I’m excited to see Chian dickmatize that boy. Curious to see how much this feels like a bubble show. Shout out to Boss for showing us a naked teen at the start of this show to scare off the pearl clutchers.

RED BLUE is EVERYTHING (6/8)

This is not BL, but it’s got enough BL boys rolling on the floor and sweating on top of each other that I’m saying here loudly that I LOVE IT. Kimura Keito is fantastic in this, and I loved his fight with Okura Takato in episode 6. I almost didn’t recognize my boy from his role as Amane in If It’s With You with the change in his hair. I did not know I needed a wrestling show with BL boys…who am I kidding? We’ve been asking for this every year. This is hitting all the notes I want from a sports shonen show. It’s fantastic.

Please Use the Sex Well in Romance

I think there’s a real place for clean romance in the BL genre. Some of our favorites don’t involve sex being a major component of their romance narrative, but that often requires significantly more drama and better storytelling and plots. What I cannot abide is when I find myself bargaining about how a show that wants to talk about sex every episode seemingly doesn’t want to deal with sex. Romances about sex that don’t use the sex well in their stories are as bad as comedies with terrible jokes, or action flicks with no suspense and satisfying fight sequences.

Other than that, I dropped I'll Turn Back This Time. It’s just too stupid and incoherent for me to put up with it’s nonsense. Seeya next time.