#if you define yourself only by passing at all times youre gonna turn into a sad hudsons guide esque husk of yourself

[drdemonprince]

people who are obsessed with passing are gonna be the death of our community i swear

[hyukascampfire]

IT WIŁŁ COME BAC₭ ⠀,, k.th

it’s a small world. you knew this, but you came to really believe it when you ran into an old classmate at the grocery store on a snowy vacation. how strange is that? even more so when he shows up once more at the door of your cabin, frozen from the cold and needing your help. ִֶָ. ´-

⸺ listen to the playlist

ㅤㅤ៶ㅤ ( 🗝️ ) ･ 6.9k

𝖕airings ˒ yandere!taehyun 𝑥 reader

ℊ ; smut ˒ thriller ˒ yandere

𝖜arnings ˒ dubcon!!, baby trapping, dark & yandere themes, taehyun has a warped view of the world, doggy, rough sex, mentions of breeding, stalking, he’s slightly off putting, possessiveness & jealousy… duh!, hard dom!taehyun, nasty freaky stuff, corruption but like not conventionally?, unprotected sex, mentions of not taking birth control, creampie, biting and hickeys, obsession, DDNE please read these and decide for yourself if you’re comfortable reading! let me know if i’ve missed any tags.

✎୭ ashlynn's note this one is a delicious gift from 🍵 anon!!! i’ve never gone this dark. IM KINDA NERVOUS. i really hope you like it!! please let me know if i miss any tags!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

��Taehyun?”

The man turns around, brow pinched and eyes searching for who’d said his name. When those sharp, intelligent eyes land on you, familiarity passes over them. In the black, there’s a shine, and the shape of them softens into something else; something you’re more used to, on him.

“Hey,” he says. His arms are full of supplies and groceries. Knitting his strong brows together, he says, “What are you doing out here?”

You toss the chips you’d been grabbing before you noticed him into your cart. It falls with a crinkle down onto the mountain of other snacks just like it. You should probably pick up some real food, too. The others shouldn’t have made food your job. If it was up to you, the cabinets would be stuffed with an array of quick snacks. Cooking isn’t really your strong suit. 

“I’m gonna spend a few nights at a cabin here with some friends. We wanted to find some snow, since it never snows back home,” you say, and then you laugh at the absurdity of finding someone from your hometown all the way out here. What are the odds of that? Especially since everybody graduated and scattered out into their own moving lives. “What are you doing out here?”

He reaches up to push his glasses up his nose, an easy smile on his lips. The sight of it brings back memories.

Taehyun and you had not been the closest in high school. You were in different crowds, and he kept to his own anyway. But the few times you two did interact, by some assigned group project or an incidental brief exchanging of words, he was nice enough. 

He changed a lot, though. If someone were to ask you yesterday if you remember him from school, the image you would’ve imagined is at stark odds with the man standing  in front of you now. Where the long, lanky limbs and unsure demeanor of a boy once was, there is now all the confidence of a man. The angles of him are sharper, more defined and chiseled. And, his shoulders… He’s gotten broader, too. The butterflies in your belly are strange; It’s strange feeling like this over a man you might not have looked twice at years ago. He wasn’t ugly by any means, back then. You just… had an eye out for other things. Your palate was different.

He answers, “Touché.” Stepping back, he lets another customer push their cart through the gap between you. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What have you been up to? Back home for break? It seems like everybody from school moved on. It’s nice seeing someone from our class.”

It’s not an answer to your question, but the snow gear and thick jackets in his arms tell you enough. He’s seeking snow, too. Snow birding is really the only way that you might see snow, here. Snow really only ever comes to the mountain peaks. Speaking up over some storewide announcement that makes the bustle around you impossibly louder, you say, “Oh my god, right? That’s what I was just thinking.” You make your tone light—the kind of saturated sweetness that comes with small talk, all manufactured and stilted. It’s not necessarily awkward; you just are clumsy with this kind of conversation. You just ramble to fill the space. “I… Just have been working. Never went to school. Did I tell you that you look good? What have you been up to?”

For a moment, you think you see a glimpse of something… strange pass over his eyes. Something that makes you feel weird—one of those hair-rising feelings that you cannot explain, but feel innately to your core. A primal hunger being fed, a twitching of his lips, as though vindicated. It’s gone in nothing more than a blink of an eye, and barely even was there in the first place. You’ve got a mushy brain from driving all day, anyway. What a strange thing for your mind to make up, though.

“Nothing much. Work for me, too,” he says, shrugging. “Finally got the chance to get away from it, and decided to come out here.”

Another shopper comes shoving themselves between you. Clearly, your catching up is an obstruction on their very important, very urgent shopping trip. Taking the hint, you tell Taehyun, “I get it, believe me. But…” You gesture at your groceries. “I’ve gotta finish up shopping before everybody gets here. It was nice seeing you! I wish I could linger, really.”

He offers you an easy smile, letting his crossed arms fall away from his chest and shaking his head. “No big deal. I’ve got some stuff to pick up, too. Have a nice one, yeah? Don’t get caught in the blizzard, or anything.”

Snorting, you dip your head  goodbye and say, “I’ll try not to.”

❅

The hardwood floors creak beneath your flustered pacing. “Are you serious? How long is it gonna be?”

“I’m sorry? I didn’t expect someone to slash our fucking tires?” Your friend’s voice cuts in and out through the speakers, one of the few hollow sounds in the cabin. Aside from you and the decor, it’s empty. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck out there, but there’s nothing we can do. You’re going to have to wait it out for a few days. At least until we can get there.”

Gritting your teeth, you give her a tactful Okay, bye, and thumb the big red button. The sound of the call ending echoes, too. Curling your arms around yourself, the whole place feels big and haunting. The howling of whipping wind and snow against the windows doesn’t help.

Someone had slashed their tires, and now you’re going to be here alone. For days. If being alone wasn’t already making knots of your belly, that was. It’s startling: going out of your way to slash someone's tires, but making no attempts at stealing the car or anything in it. Either it’s personal, or somebody just wanted to ruin somebody else’s day. Both leave a sour taste in your mouth.

Your every limb goes rigid at a thump, and in the corner of your eye, there’s movement. When you whip your head to look fully in that direction, all that moves in the window is snow like haze and the trees bending in the same violent wind. Nothing but night and the storm.

Beside yourself, you inch toward the window to look closer. Tugging a thick, willowy curtain to one side, you do a scan.

Sat in the snow, dusting over with heavy white flakes as you look, are a pair of glasses. You are not stupid enough to go out and get a closer look. 

❅

With the fireplace roaring, the place doesn’t feel so empty. 

You waited all day for the snow to stop coming down so hard. If you’re going to be alone here for days, you want to go out and spend the daylight away around other people.

Really, you just don’t want to be in this cabin all by yourself. You have a bad feeling. It;s unfounded, maybe. But you do.

The snow does not stop falling, and the wind does not stop blowing it into thick piles. It’s everywhere: the whole entire yard is coating thick with it, and so is your car. Could you even drive away in this, if you needed to? Maybe after thirty minutes of plowing snow. You’ve at least kicked enough of it away from the porch to open the door.

At some point, hope for doing anything but toiling around in here dwindled away. With what embers of excitement for vacation you have left, you tugged on some knitted socks and played Christmas classics off your phone.

You’re still playing them as you decide to cook something up. You’re not the best cook, but what do you have to lose? It’ll only be you eating it. If it goes awry, you’ve still got snacks to make into a meal. 

The kitchen comes alive while you work. You tug out all the pots and pans that the cabin owners provide, clicking the stove on while you dance and hum along to the songs that you’d seemingly come out of the womb knowing. Pulling the fridge open to the song of Silver Bells, you decide on something ambitious and set ingredients out over the counters. 

You don’t even get to slicing before there’s a knock at the door. Three very solid, very resounding knocks. The knife makes a clattering sound as you let it drop to the cutting board.

There shouldn’t be anybody out here. Maybe your friends got the car up and running, and forgot to let you know. Your heart thrums a wild, crashing beat, as you swipe your phone up to shoot a quick text.

At the top of a screen, a text comes in from an unknown number. Your belly does a frantic swoop, a thousand different thoughts swarming and shoving to be the one at the forefront of your mind. 

+1 [678-999-8212]

Hey, it’s Taehyun.

+1 [678-999-8212]

I’m sorry if this is weird, but I’m the one who just knocked at your door. I wanted to hike up to my cabin but I’m lost as hell right now, and recognized your car outside

+1 [678-999-8212]

Thought it would be better to ask you for help instead of a random.

You take a moment to blink at the glow of the screen. Taehyun was the one knocking on your door? That both settles you and kicks up more questions. What are the odds that you both rented out cabins from the same people? The world is small; you’re reminded that a lot, these days. 

Sliding your phone into your back pocket, you head for the door. He’s got to be freezing. It’s coming down hard out there.

The door swings open to Taehyun’s face just as frost-glazed as you expected. His jaw chatters and his nose and cheeks are a deep, winter-pink. Despite it, his mouth pulls into a friendly smile—the kind that illustrates in the humorous corners that he is aware of the absurdity of his situation, as well. He keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, a thick winter jacket zipped up to the top dusted at the shoulders with fat snowflakes just the same as on top of his coal-black hair.

“Oh my god,” you say. A laugh seeps through the cracks. “I’ve got the fireplace going hot. Do you wanna come in? How long have you been out there?” Stepping to one side, you offer him entry into your home. Temporary home, that is. 

He tries to rein in the shivers, you can see it in the smile he’s got plastered on his face and the way he buzzes and trembles around the edges like the bitter cold is trying to push against his skin and escape him. “If it doesn’t bother you,” he says, stepping in past you. When he passes, thick in the air, he smells like smoke and the dark woods—it’s musky and familiar, but also haunting in the way that the wilder edges of a forest could be. 

He smells nice. Really nice. The kind of blend of manly musk and cologne that makes a woman look twice. It makes you look twice as he passes, at least.

Him standing there now, eyes roving over the cabin’s wood walls and the knitted blankets and the fire whispering from the living room, you realize how strange it is to be here with an old classmate that you haven’t seen for at least three years. How awkward it is. 

“It doesn’t bother me at all. You did scare me a bit, though,” you say, shooing the wispy chill away with a close of the door. “I’d rather you not freeze to death out there. It’s, like, ten degrees.” You tuck your arms across your chest. “What made you go hiking in this? It’s been nasty today. I haven’t even been able to leave.”

His cheek twitches with a dimple. Even back in school, you noticed that. Then, it’d fit right into his face. Now, it’s a delicious contrast against his angled face. “Sorry I scared you. I knew it’d be weird, but… Yeah, I was freezing out there. I seriously thought I was going to die.” Hair brushes over his eyes, their cunning and sharpness something that draws you in. Like two swirling, black pools of swirling water, they beckon you in a way that you can’t quite digest. “It wasn’t too bad down by the car, and I didn’t know there was a whole damn trail up here, so I… yeah. It got bad.”

Snorting, you nod. “I bet.” You’re not sure what else to say; your mind freezes over in an impermeable frost. You tap around with a pick to try and find words, but there’s no getting through it. You hardly know him. What do you talk about? What are you going to talk about, considering the fact that he’s no doubt going to be here for some time? Until it stops blizzarding so hard outside, at least. 

Charging through the tense moment with a brassiness that you do not remember him carrying back then, Taehyun nods a gesture toward the kitchen and the dinner you’d been in the middle of making. “Making something?” he says. The low, warm light of the cabin washes over him and make his face something cozier than it’d been standing frozen at your front door. It also makes a show of the angles of his cheek as it turns, and the tall line of his nose. Something on him is missing. You can’t capture the notion or put your finger on it, but somewhere in the depths of memory, you feel like there was something there that isn’t here with him now. Maybe it’s a different styling of his hair from the last time you saw him, wind-swept as it is now. Or maybe you’re just stir-crazy. 

“Yeah.” You nod, watching in place as he ventures into the kitchen. Narrowing your eyes down, you try to pinpoint the thought. Is it something small? A pair of earrings? “I was gonna cook up something warm for dinner, but I’m not the best cook. I don’t burn anything, but… it’s never great, you know?”

Taehyun tugs his jacket off his arms, and you confirm that it’s not a certain jacket or something. “I’ll help,” he says, discarding the heavy thing. “Make myself useful.”

“Oh!” you say, bringing your hands together in realization. “Are you not wearing your glasses? Holy shit, I’ve been staring at you thinking something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell what it was.” 

He furrows his brows, corners of his mouth twitching. The look passes over his face in nothing more than a split-second, before something else plasters over it. He crinkles his nose and says, “Huh. I didn’t even notice…” The knife you’d left to let him in glints as he picks it up to assume where you’d left off. “Didn’t you say that you were here with some friends? Is everybody asleep already?”

You trace the lines of his face where those brown glasses had rested the last time you’d seen him. He must’ve forgotten them in his cabin this morning, or something, before he went out. You grab a pot and fill it over the sink for noodles. “Actually, they all got caught up back home. It’s literally just me here for days. I’ve been so bored.” Over your shoulder, you add, “I’m just making some fettuccine and chicken.”

“Caught up?” he says, voice casual and occupied. The sound of the knife against the cutting board as he slices follow his words.

“Yeah. Someone messed their car up bad… Like, knife to the tires and the windows were smashed in all over the seats. It was fucking terrifying.” Clicking the stove on, you set the pot to boil. 

Taehyun doesn’t answer for a few minutes. You look over your shoulder and find him working in the chicken still. He answers, his eyes dragging up to you for a quick moment before making sure he doesn’t cut a finger off, “Did they steal anything?”

Turning to him fully as you wait for the water to bubble and turn over, you say, “That’s the weird thing. They didn’t steal or anything, they just fucked it up and… left.”

“Huh,” he says, furrowing his strong brow down at his working hands. “Yeah, that’s weird. That’s some personal shit. Maybe someone had a shit day.” The end comes out around a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.” You crack open the cardboard flaps and pour the noodles into the pot. “Still… scary.”

Taehyun takes over the cooking, and you’re happy to entrust dinner to him. He works diligently, and the sight of his back as he stirs and chops and seasons—it’s mouth-watering. This way, you can fully admire him as he does. You’re not much help, anyway. Instead, you just start the gentle hum of Christmas music once more and stay out of his way. The sound of 

It’s nice to have somebody here. The howling of the wind and the echoing of your own movements back to you has started to become haunting. Maybe having Taehyun here is a bit unconventional, and it really should be your friends here with you, but having him here is the better outcome than some creep being the one knocking at your door. It’s nice to have him here in case that does happen, too.

It’s not like he’s bad company, or anything, either.

When the entirety of the cabin is full with the smell of warm dinner and your conversation, you swoop back in to offer help with something you can manage. Stepping beside him, indulging in his rich scent once more, you plate the dinner he’d made for you. Steam dances up from it and beckons your tastebuds. “You’re, like, a Michelin chef. What the hell? Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer, and in the corner of your eye, you catch his knuckles going white around the counter’s edge where he leans his weight into the arm. Frowning, you go to look up at him.

It leaves his face when you catch it, but you find him looking down at you… different again. Darker, as though the pupils at the center have grown hungry and eaten up the chocolate there. You think you see his jaw tightening and a hard swallow bobbing in his throat, too. His face is so close like this, you can see the plush turn to his lips and the darkness beneath his eyes, and even the chap of his lips.

Flustering, you take a step back and do your work there. You’d stepped way too close to him. Does he think you’re weird? You’ve always been the type with a scarce personal bubble; you forget that others don’t work the same.

“It’s nothing much,” he finally says. It’s cool and collected once more. “I make this all the time. It’s one of my favorites.”

Handing him his plateful, the chicken glistening with glaze and the noodles a swirl of cream and garnish, you say, “You’ll have to write down the recipe for me, or something. I totally want to make it for myself.”

Accepting it with another easy grin, he says, “Yeah, sure.” He forks a bit of chicken off the plate.

The smile does not reach his eyes.

❅

The longer you look at it, the worse the feeling gets.  Black and scrawled in wobbling lines, jagged and dark in places where he’d gone over a line a few times, you just… feel like you’ve seen it all before. It’s a smokey, tainted memory, far-off and obscured no matter how you squint your eyes.

Why do you remember it? Why does the sight of it crawl like dread under your skin and wilt? Sure, you went to school with Taehyun, but you don’t really think recognizing his handwriting should feel like this. Who even pays attention to the handwriting of somebody you interacted with once or twice, anyway?

God. You are dramatic. You kick your legs out of the comforter, swelteringly thick and quilted with a gaudy winter pattern of reds and browns and whites, and fold up the paper to place it on the darkwood bedside table.

The click of you flicking the white switch on echoes off the bathroom’s tiled walls. You reach for your toothbrush on the counter, and then the world goes dark around you.

You freeze, eyes frantically blinking and straining against the blackness to adjust. The power had gone out. There’s a few beats of you stricken in place, toothbrush in hand, thrown for a loop.

Then, the whole cabin goes out as the power to the heater dies, too. You swear. 

Your journey down the hallway is a stumbling of legs and the grooves of the wood-paneled walls against your fingertips. It’s the pitch black of night out here, too. The only thing you can see is the static that fills up the gaps when it’s dark. “Taehyun?” you say. Is he asleep already? You don’t even know where the room he’d taken for the night is, relative to where you are now.

Nothing answers you for a few moments, and then from an opening door, light floods like a miracle. The shape of him, the light from his phone’s flashlight just enough to dimly illuminate his features, comforts you. His hair is ruffled, like he’d just drug himself from bed.

“Power went out,” he says. It’s awfully loud, now that you two are the only sounds in here. 

“Yeah, I think I just had a little heart attack. I was up brushing my teeth.” Why hadn’t you thought to use your phone’s light? “The heater… We’re gonna freeze to death. Do you think they have a generator, or something? The fireplace doesn’t really do much…”

He features glow in as he moves the phone. “Mine didn’t. It’s fine, my room’s got a fireplace in it. We can close the door and get it warm in there.”

“Better than nothing,” you say, shrugging and following him in.

You plop on his bed, the surface of it cold and plush, while he works on kindling a fire. “This is, like, nowhere near where I thought I’d be for vacation.”

He readjusts the logs, dry and perfect for burning, into a point. Poking and prodding, Taehyun says, “Not having fun?”

You snort at the dry and flat delivery. “Friends haven’t even gotten back to me, I’m snowed in, and I’m locked in here with a total stranger.” You draw out the last word as a joke, your smile painting the tone playful, but it’s the truth. You don’t know Taehyun one bit. It’s just as strange and unpredictable as the other things on the list of things that have gone awry. “I guess I had a good dinner, so I can’t be complaining too much.”

Curling up to his full height, he takes a knee and settles into the bed beside you. “Make some room for this stranger, won’t you? We should probably try to use our body heat.”

Laughing, you go to say something to rift off his joke. It dies in your throat when he doesn’t join you. In an awkward sort of panic, you wince and say, “Yeah, it’s cold as hell. We’re gonna freeze to death in our sleep.”

And, ridiculously, you crawl under the covers. You don’t know why you do it; maybe it’s because he’s completely serious and watching you, or maybe because it’s true that you might actually get so cold in your sleep that you die if you don’t. Either way, you do. You don’t know which way to settle: facing him or with your back turned to him. Both are strange, but which is stranger?

Facing him, you decide that turning your back to him just doesn’t settle in your soul right.

“Weird night,” he says, sliding himself under the blanket’s covering. The same blanket that you lay in. “But…” he says, eyes flickering over you laid there. He looks as though he’s going to say something else, but he decides against it. “Good night.”

He does you a favor and turns his back to you.

❅

Night still holds the world in its claws when your eyes flutter open.

You shift to try and find that perfect position that’ll lull you back into sleep, slipping your legs over the sheets and shifting your cheek against your arm and wiggling your hips against the solid pressure behind you.

The pressure behind you. Stilling, your eyes fly open.

The weight of Taehyun behind you, his chest rising and falling, and the warmth of him, pierce through sleep’s haze like a white-hot knife. You’re all the way on his side of the bed, pressing your bottom into him. Shame creeps its wicked way from your chest and then out through your skin, blazing the skin of your cheeks. You push up on an elbow to scoot back to your side of the bed as slow and covertly as you can manage.

Fingers like teeth, biting the skin of your waist, stop you. Your heart jumps.

“Don’t move.” Taehyun’s breath and words curl out over the juncture of your neck like a chill. He lets you sit in that for a moment, your heart thumping like a frightened bird in a cage, before he says, “It’s weird. Weird that when I suggested you sleep in my bed, you looked so nervous. But, look where you are now.”

Your voice comes out strangled. “I’m sorry.”

When his palm slides down from your waist to brush over your belly, you begin to think that it’s not an apology that he wants. Your stomach does untamed dips and rolls. It’d been the cold that you were afraid of, but now it’s the blistering heat that blooms where his touch goes that grips you. 

“That didn’t take very long.”  Like a trail of growing, raging fire, he takes that hand and brings it down the lengths of your body. Over your hip, and then down the supple curve of your ass, and then down the back of your thighs, where he toys with the notion of slipping it between the seam there. “It never did take much for you to give those men your body. Give them what was mine. Don’t worry, I’ll make it right. I’ll make you right.”

Your mind turns over itself, a thousand stray, blinding thoughts bursting at the seams and all asking for your attention. You don’t know which to start with; you don’t have the slightest clue what he means. Asking any of them out loud seems absurd, and the notion crumbles to dust when he brings his arm down your front to cup your heat.

“Face in the bed, ass up.” He commands it in your ear like ice: absolute and biting. “It’s how you like it, isn’t it?”

Doggy is how you like it. You don’t know how Taehyun would know that. What you do know, though, is the way the simple words kindle hungry fire in your cunt. Dragging yourself from the heat of the mattress in a bleary, glazed-over mess of limbs, you paint yourself into an obscene picture: your cheek presses into the mattress, blazing with disbelief, your eyes wide and gone and the mess of your hair obscuring them, and your back the delicate arch of sex and sinfulness as you display your ass high in the air for him.

When you look at him to see how he likes it, you don’t find the man that you saw in the grocery store, nor the man that you let into your cabin. The look you find, vacant and overflowing with an untamed hunger, raises the hair on your skin. It’s off. 

“Taehyun,” you say. It’s really just to speak—you don’t have words. 

He runs a hand down the curve of your back. His voice comes from behind you, now. “This should’ve been just mine. But you never did look my way, did you?” Your body jumps when his hands find your hips and the fabric in the way of your skin there. Hooking his thumbs under both the waistband of your bottoms and your panties, he drags them down your thighs in a slow crawl. Each inch of blazing skin bared to the air tingles against the cold and under his gaze as you feel his eyes eat it up. 

That’s what his eyes do: they eat and they eat, taking up the space around them like ever-hungry blackholes until there is nothing but their absence of light and their heaviness. That was the pull you remember in the store—a force like gravity beckoning a perverse finger at you and leaving you nowhere to go but toward him.

He pulls the fabric until it’s bunched at your knees. Prodding a finger, just the very end of it, at your hole. You flutter around it, belly turning. “Why didn’t you look my way?” he asks. The rustling of him working on his pants has you twitching and shifting hot against the covers. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You’re only able to choke out the words, heart jumping up into your throat as he takes his hand up your back, pins and needles following his path and pushes your head into the mattress by the back of the neck.

Breath hot over your cheek, he says, “Is this what you want? To be fucked like an animal?” You know he means the position. Your mouth goes dry. “You’re better than that. But, if it’s what you like, I’ll fuck you like it.”

You have a thought. It’s fleeting and fuzzy like the rest of your mind, but you catch it just long enough to turn it over once. When you’d seen Taehyun, you were struck by how he looked more like the kind of guy you might go after than the lanky, off-putting one you remember. And, now he’s set on how you like to get fucked.

The tip of his cock at your entrance sends the thought to smoke and the aftermath clogs your cognitive function. Your mouth falls open as he presses some inches in, slow and enriching. But then he pulls the slight length out to collect some slick and tap his cockhead to your clit. You jolt against the sheets.

When he slides back in this time, he makes sure to brush your hair out of your face to watch every last inch of you taking him reflected in the furrowing of your brows and the glassiness of your eyes and the pink of your cheeks.

He stills when he reaches the hilt, his hips flush to your ass, his shadow falling over you as he leans to bring his ear to your mouth. “You should’ve looked my way. Things could’ve been so different. It’s okay—I’ll make you realize. I know who you really are. I’ll wash this all away and clean you up and make you good again.”

He doesn’t leave space for words or thought. Not enough for you to taste the rust like rot over his iron words. Planting his heels on the bed and shoving your face further into the bed, he starts his hips in a rhythm that has your breaths stuttering and achy wines clawing out from the prison of your chest. He does not move precisely, nor is the bucking of his hips pointed, but it’s a crashing sort of ruin. It doesn’t matter if he finds that spot inside of you. He’s going to consume your every sense: he steals the taste in your mouth and replaces it with himself, steals your hearing with his pants and grunts, steals your sight as his cock twists your insides up, and steals your ability to feel anything but him. He steals your breath, too. Just as a wicked little souvenir. 

“Hhh—fuck, Taehyun, holy shit,” you say. A procession of crude and mewled cries come tumbling out your mouth after your words. No matter now you filter your sounds to try and maintain your decency, he just drags them from you anyway. 

Bringing his hand up to splay his hand over the entirety of the back of your head rather than the delicate back of your neck, he grits out, “Filthy-fucking-mouth.” He punctuates the words with a hollow smack of his skin against your ass. It’s the sound of sex incarnate—your skin burns hearing it clashing against the rest of your debased sounds. “And it’s just for me, now. Isn’t that fucking great? None of those vile pigs are gonna touch what’s mine again. Not after this. You—” His voice tightens when a certain spot he nudges in your cunt sends it clinging to him and sucking him back in at every return. “You were really testing the limits to my patience. Do you know that?” He drags his hand over your face, smearing obscenity over you with just his tainted touch. “Of course you fucking don’t. You don’t notice shit. It’s why you let this world walk all over you. It’s why you need me.”

As hard and fast as he fucks you, he doesn’t exchange full strokes for it. He pulls completely out of you each time he snaps his hips back, and then meets your ass in burning collisions when he slips his cock right back into you. You struggle for breath, trying to feed your oxygen-starved brain to contend with his snarled preaching. Never once do you catch a full chest of air, though. It turns your thoughts liquid, stupid and simple. “Taehyun—Taehyun,” you say, throat tight. The sheets are stifling against your clammy skin, and the hair around your neck is damp. You take fistfuls of the bunches fabric and his other hand on your hip to ground yourself. 

You are beyond grounding. All that floats in your head, one bare thought, is the beginnings of terrifying tightness in your lower belly. Only the sharpest things shove through the shadow permeating your mind. Nip. Bite. He drags his teeth over the soft curves of your shoulders and the expanse of your back. Anywhere he can reach, really. His mouth paints you in aching splotches—the kind that will speak of him should anybody other see your body. The kind that speaks already of who they belong to. You eyes and throat burn.

Taehyun brings that hand he’d been molding into the fat of your hip and curls the muscle-corder forearm across both of your hip bones. A bar. A cage. His solid chest works similarly as he blankets himself over you, speaking into your wild tousle of hair. “Fuck–Gonna cum now.” The friction of his cock against your walls becomes something more unpredictable. The tightening of that knot, just on the verge of a snap that might reverberate through you and crush you into nothing more than bitten flesh and eroded virtue, sits on the horizon. It’s a terrifying thing to be rushing toward. “A—and then they’ll realize that you’re mine. They’ll never put their goddamn hands on you again. Not when your body will have me written all over it.” You can hear the tightness of his gritted jaw, the words seething like black, festering corruption. They fall over your skin and taint you, too. No longer do you shake and tremble against him with innocent little squeaks. Gilt with his words as he speaks them, your body stiffens and your cries go hoarse and pitiful. You try not to think about how you sound. “Isn’t it so good? We’re perfect together. You’re perfect underneath me. Do you know how many—how many times I fucked my fist thinking about you like this? All I ever wanted was for you to realize that we are so much better than the rest of them. It’s always meant to be us. Why did you let them touch you? Dirty your skin?”

All you manage is a heaved cry. He pins you to the mattress and begins fucking you into it. In the black of your eyelids, you watch purity go to dust.

“Take my load, baby. Stay still,” he says. His voice goes soft, like whispers. Like he’s gotten everything he’s wanted, now. 

You squirm beneath the weight of him, hips reining against the arm he holds you there by the hips with. Alarm bells ring, booming and thunderous, but in this state of mind, they sound like the music of climax. To the beat of the bells and his hips, blazing through your reddened bottom and your utter inability to breathe, you go tumbling toward that terrifying release. 

Taehyun’s steadfast pace stutters. “It’s okay,” he tells you, clearing your clammy face of hair once more. His face is right in yours, his eyes heavy and consumptive. “Just let it happen. I’m gonna breed you up, and then it’ll be forever. We’ll be forever. Can’t let you get away again. Not when I’ve got you now. I need you to take it. Can you do that for me?”

Managing one last mhm, all your sounds catch in your throat. You stop meeting halfway, muscles twisting and turning and raging against the profound, terrible wash of it. Eyes flying open, your cunt clings to him, insides fluttering and rippling in a way that begins delightfully, but toes the line of dreadful as his cock continues to tighten them further. Lightning strikes from your core, crawling and crackling from it. It moves your thighs, convulsing them in tandem with the same release wreaking havoc in your stomach.

Cursing low in your ear, he fucks you frantically, fingers planted on your hips. His cock twitches against you a few times, and then the arm he’s supporting himself on collapses down to the elbow and he’s pinning you and shooting white-hot cum right into you. Your shoulder takes the imprint of his cheek as he nips the shoulder he hangs over. His hips twitch, rolling to ride out his high with deep, chesty groans, and then jumping up to spurt a little bit more into you. His panted breaths fall against your skin like fire. 

You blink bleariness away from your eyes. For a few long minutes, that’s all you do. Your chest races so much so that you feel the pulse in your neck and the thumping of it where it rests. Your insides are liquid and intangible, blood slow just as slow as your thoughts.

When reality seeps back through your veins, though, Taehyun’s tugging his chest from your sweaty meeting of bodies. His fingers dig right into the reddened skin where his hips had abused your bottom to hold you open. To view you, and the slow oozing of his seed from your hole. The weight of his gaze sends you fluttering. With the movement of your hole, more of the hot and thickness comes seeping out, slow like molten passion down the shape of your slit and then over your clit and then dripping down onto the bed from you.

The feel of it has you swallowing hard. Holy shit, you are stupid. So painfully stupid. So, you’re just letting men cum inside while you’re not on birth control, now? Ones that you haven’t seen since school? Ones that talk like… that?

Tapping your thigh and pressing a hot kiss to your outer hip, Taehyun says, “I’m gonna go check the breakers. You take it easy here for a second.”

Whiplashed, you nod. There goes that pristine, normal mask again. You watch him go, heaving yourself up from the nasty bedding to be greeted by the musk of sex humid in the air. You think a thousand little thoughts, watching the wall as you go far away in your mind.

Everything that he said… That was not just a little weird, or a little kinky. It was bone-chilling. The taste in your mouth, still tainted by him, sours.

You pull out your phone. Pressing it to your ear, your blood runs sluggish still. 

The cabin owner’s voice comes staticky through the speakers, asking you what you need help with. You ask about the power outage and where the breaker might be, debriefing him on Taehyun ending up here because he wasn’t able to make it to his own cabin, and how you think that the storm outside might be why the power’s gone out.

The cabin owner’s answer makes you pale.

It’s not a crashing realization. Not a thundering storm reaching its climax, nor a firework plasma and explosive at its center but flashy as it sparkles, nor a searing knife to the gut. It’s a slow, dreadful feeling, sinking to the depths of the ocean with a weight around your ankle and the realization that there is no getting back to the surface. It is drowning with water in your lungs, knowing that you swallowed that water down. 

You know why you recognize that hand writing, and you know why Taehyun was missing his glasses, and you know why he had your number even though you have no connections, and you know why he was able to find your cabin by your car despite never having seen it, and you know why your friends never made it here. He, long and spindly legged, the spider, did not even panic when you grazed by the hints toward what he really was. You were all ready in his web, anyway. All he had to do was wait it out and watch you, caught, oblivious, squirm. And, squirm you did.

“What other cabin?” 

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! i’m sorry this one came out later, i had to make that ending tie up well.

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[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Grey Sweatpants

✩ dilf!toji x fem!reader

✩ warnings & tags: ovulation, age gap (readers in her mid 20s & toji is late 30s), creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation, blow job, couch sex, etc.

✩ ✩ living with your ex-boyfriend/baby daddy is a hassle, but sometimes it’s for the best.

“bye my babies! have a good day at school—I love you!” you waved from the door as you watched your kids boarded the yellow school bus; with it driving off into the distance. you closed the door and sighed, turning around to see your messy living room. you rolled your eyes and began to pick up the clothes that were strewn across the floor.

‘his ass couldn’t help me clean up before he left?’ you cursed to yourself, thinking about your lazy ass baby father.

the two of you had one child together, your daughter; tomie, who was the light of your life and the one of the only good things to come from your previous relationship. in addition to your daughter, you gained a step-child; megumi. even though you & toji never married, you considered the boy as your own—loving him like his mother should’ve.

toji and megumi were forced to move in with you after a fault wire in the house caused a fire. you had speculated that toji was the cause for it, but he kept denying it everytime.

toji stayed home most of them time, since his job didn’t need him currently and you thought having him around would be good. but, you thought wrong. he hardly helped around the house, leaving you to clean the messes that him and your children made, he hardly cooked—which you were kinda glad about; you didn’t trust him to defrost chicken. however, he was an amazing dad to your two kids and wouldn’t knock him for that.

as you swept the floor, the sound of the front door being opened and closed alerted you and you turn your head, ready to fuss at your baby daddy. “toji! when are you going to—.” toji stepped into the living room, sweaty and shirtless—and as your eyes followed a sweat bead that dripped down his chest, the hem of his grey sweatpants caught your attention; and they fixtated there.

you could see the imprint of his dick and your thighs pressed together, as you began to remember all about it and how it made you feel.

“yer’ gonna quit your staring or what?” toji’s deep voice brought you back to reality and you immediately went back to yelling at him.

“can you start fucking helping me around here? im getting swamped! its bad eno—.” he walked up to you and cut you off, holding your chin up with his hand. “alright, you take a bath and I’ll handle the house. I’ll cook something to eat too.”

never in a million years did you think toji would cook or clean for you, but you weren’t about to pass it up. you nodded and scurried off to the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom and immediately drew a nice bubble bath. you put in your favorite scents and even lit a few candles, before you turned off the steaming water.

peeling off your clothes, you cringed when you got to your blue panties—the coldness of your arousal stuck to your lips as you peeled it off. it’s amazed you how he could still make you feel that way, without even touching him. it’s like your body was molded for him, it craved him at every moment. and as you sat in the bathtub trying to forget about it, your body and mind betrayed you. just the thought of him freeballing in those grey sweatpants, had your nipples hardening and your cunt gushing.

toji’s body looked like it was sculpted by gods, it was perfect. the way each ab and muscle were defined was mind boggling. you found yourself laying against the cool porcelain tub, teasing your hard nipples while you pinched your clit between two of your fingers.

“fuck toji~!” you moaned out softly, the subtle pleasure coursing through your body. you stopped pinching your clit and started rubbing it, eyes rolling back as it throbbed on your middle finger. imaging toji’s fingers replacing yours on your pretty little clit had your toes curling and your cunt spasming like crazy; cumming hard as the bubbles sloshed around you.

you sat there breathless for while before you got the strength to clean your body and drain the tub. rummaging through your closet, you found one toji’s old tshirts that your kept—slipping it on along with your slippers, before walking out of your bedroom.

the smell of food cooking made your stomach growl and as you turned the corner into the kitchen, the sight in front of you made you cover your mouth with eyes. your baby daddy was standing in front of the stove, stirring up whatever food was in the pan his muscles flexing with each movement. those infamous grey sweatpants sat low, showing the start of his toned ass.

you wanted him so bad right now, you could feel yourself getting more aroused by the second—and you had to do everything in your power to stop it, despite the thumping you felt down below.

“is this a dream? never thought i would get to see you cook. it’s like a miracle,” he snickered as you teased him, still stirring up his dish; before turning the burners off.

“taste this, mama~” he called you by the old nickname he gave you and it made you melt. you opened the mouth and accepted the savory taste of chicken and rice, unable to help the moan that escaped your mouth. his scarred lips turned up into a smirk and he grabbed two bowls, making one for him and you. toji led the way to the living room, putting the bowls on the coffee table, before going back to get you both something to drink.

“after all this time, you’ve decided to finally cook. why haven’t you cooked? and you cleaned the house? what’s the reason—you think you’re getting some?” you teased and he let out a roaring laugh, scooping up a spoonful of his food, before he got serious.

“I never cooked because I knew you enjoyed it. I could tell it was a way to help you distress and unwind, the same thing with cleaning the house. this is your house, I don’t wanna mess it up—mama~” your heart warmed, you did love cooking and cleaning, especially when you were stressed. you felt bad, he didn’t consider this as his house and you never gave him the opportunity to. even though the breakup between you two was mutual, you always gave him hell.

“toji….this is your house. despite everything, i love having you here—and the kids can see it too, i think they like seeing their parents together.” you spoke softly, innocently placing your hand on his crotch. he smiled and pinched your nose, turning to drink his beer; while you stared at his pretty face.

the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the rich beverage, had you pressing your thighs together—feeling yourself get wet. your eyes traveled to where you hand was and you slowly started to rub that spot, causing his eyes to advert over to yours. he raised his eyebrow and watched you, that sexy little look on your face that he knew too well—made his dick swell.

“it’s been a while, think you can handle me still?” he asked, a smirk etched onto his lips and you nodded slowly. he put down the bear bottle and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling on yours. you bit his bottom lip as you pulled away before pulling his sweatpants, making his cock spring free. he was huge, his tannish cock had nice girth to it—along with two veins running from tip to base. he looked bigger than you last remembered, and it made your mouth water; from fear and sheer arousal.

you swallowed and immediately enveloped your mouth around it, the sticky—salty taste of his precum entering your mouth, making you moan out. “shit girl, just like that~” his hand pushed your head down, making you take him deeper in your mouth. you gagged from the force, but quickly got used to it. spit, pooled and trickled out the side of your mouth, and the sounds of your lewdness echoed through the living room.

he reached over behind you, and lifted up your t-shirt, shocked to see that you weren’t wearing any panties; but even more shocked to feel how soaking wet you were. he smirked and slapped your ass, hard, making you choke on his dick—as a result of you trying to yelp. he slid his finger up and down your slit, sending chills up your body, coating his middle finger in your slick—inserting it inside of you afterwords.

the two of you moved in sync, his fingers pumping fast inside of you while you sucked his cock; hitting all the right spots. he inserted another, curling his fingers up to rub against your g-spot, while you gripped his balls, massaging them as you deep throated him.

and you both could feel each other twitching, release approaching the both of you hard—no longer able to hold back, the two of you climaxed. his creamy white load warmed up your mouth, while you creamed on his fingers. pulling back, you swallowed every last bit of his cum, savoring it as it went down, before kissing him; letting him taste himself. he pushed his fingers into your mouth letting you do the same, turning you on even more.

you stood up on the couch, hovering your cunt over his crotch, “sure you can ta—shit!~”

you cut him off as you sat down on his dick, letting him stretch you out in go. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, getting used to his size—walls clenching on him as you sat there. and when you slowly began to bounce, he couldn’t help the small moan that left his mouth. you threw your head back as you bounced on his dick, cunt creaming all over him. you were beyond wet, pussy squelching and queefing—taking his cock like a good girl.

“missed…this….—mhm—this dick~.” moaning in between your words, gripping his shoulder while you rode him, jiggling your ass ever so often. he grunted, loving how fucked out you looked—putting two fingers in your mouth; sucking them with no hesitation.

with this other hand, he sent smacks to your ass—loud popping sounds vibrating throughout the living room. toji loved your body, especially after you gave birth to your daughter. he loved how plushy and fuller you became; ass more plumper each day.

he could feel you clench down, walls moving frantically.

“that’s it mama, cum for me. show daddy how much you wanted this dick~.” toji sent another smack to your ass and you threw your head back, only for him to grab you by your cheeks; forcing you to look at him while you cum.

face contorted with pleasure and your eyes were peppered with little black spots, while you rode out your orgasm. he pulled you into a kiss once more, letting you slowly grind on him. taking you by suprise, he picked you up, sitting down on the rug beneath you and making you turn around. your phat ass was facing him and your face was deep into the soft beige couch, moaning once he pushed back into your sensitive cunt.

toji held onto your waist and watched as your ass wobbled against him, clapping with each stroke. he loved to watch it move, the stretch marks painted against the smooth skin, and the way it rippled when he thrusted into you. you eyes were rolled back to the whites, mewling as you took his dick—gripping the cushions as he rubbed that spot.

PLAP. PLAP. SMACK!

toji was slowly losing his mind from the sounds of your rough love making, his cock twitching inside of you with each stroke.

“cum for me! please—feels sho gud—“ he stuck his fingers in your mouth once again, pounding your pretty cunt sloppy.

“you looked so good pregnant with my seed—i can breed this pussy? wanna put another baby in ya” he grunted, giving you deep and powerful strokes. you mindlessly nodded your head, feeling your orgasm increasing.

his hips slammed into yours, his cock twitching before he finally released—making your belly warm with his cum. “yes daddy—fill me up so good’~” he slapped your ass, drilling your pussy while continuing to dump his milky load inside of you. he wasn’t stopping till you got yours and with his movements, you weren’t far behind.

you let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back deep into your head, cunt clenching so tight around him—you drained more ‘milk’ out of him. a powerful stream of clear fluid, pushed out of you; forcing him out with a loud queef following. toji plugged his finger up into your cunt, fingering you hard during the span of you squirting all over the run beneath you.

calming down, he pulled you by your chin and kissed you; melting into his touch.

“I’ll draw you a bath and pick up the kids, go get some rest mama” he picked you up with ease and walked you both to the bathroom.

you saw the kids off to the bus stop, forcing a smile on your face before you closed the door shut. you raced to the bathroom, to cough up the nasty warm liquid that came up—flushing the porcelain toilet. you groaned, touching your boobs which were oddly tender, and sat on the toilet. you reached into the stand beside it and pulled out two clear blue pregnancy tests.

while you waited for the results, toji came home from his morning job—body covered in hard work and sweat. “y/n? where you at mama?” he called out to you, looking around the house, only to not hear a reply. entering the bedroom, he saw the bathroom’s door halfway closed and he made his way over to it, knocking before entering.

you stood up and held the two positive pregnancy tests, folding your free arm under your chest.

“twins?” he joked and you hit his arm—giggling.

“we’re going to need a bigger place, soon.”

[leaentries]

i want you to give in | nico hischier

summary: tension can only build for so long, eventually it will have to snap.

warnings: suggestive themes, swearing

wc: 2.6k+

You and Nico had only been friends a couple of months, but that didn’t stop the growing tension every time you were in the same room. 

Becoming close friends with a bunch of professional hockey players was not on your bingo card for the year. Yet, here you are, knocking on the door of Jack and Luke’s shared apartment.

You had met Luke at a bar when your so-called “friends” dragged you out for the night, then proceeded to ditch you for some random guys they had run into. 

Luke noticed your sunken form at the corner of the bartop, looking as out of place as he felt. He took the opportunity to introduce himself, buying you a drink in the process. After the two of you hit it off, he made sure to stay by your side the rest of the night. When you told him about your friend's leaving, he took it upon himself to integrate you into the tight-knit hockey crowd in the back of the wide room. 

You immediately fell into a comfortable conversation with a shaggy-haired boy named Dawson. These boys, along with the select girlfriends and wives, welcomed you with open arms. Only about an hour or so had passed when he showed up. 

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were drawn to him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with such confidence, but not enough to seem arrogant. Or, perhaps, it was the way his tight shirt clung to the defined muscles along his torso. 

Watching his movements grow closer, you saw a few of the other boys side-hug him, clearly excited by his presence. You leaned closer to Dawson’s side, trying to get a better view of the captivating brunette man. Dawson noticed your proximity, following your gaze to see where your focus had drifted to. He smirked.

“Whatcha lookin' at?” He asked smugly. 

Your eyes widened as you realized you had been caught staring. Hard. A warm blush crept up your neck as you averted to look at anything else. “N-nothing, just people watching.” You had hoped he bought your excuse, but the look on Dawson’s face proved otherwise. 

“Oh no, no, no. That was definitely not nothing. I saw you making goo-goo eyes at Cap over there.” This time it was your turn to make a face. 

“Cap?”

Dawson nodded, “Yeah, that's Nico. Our captain.” 

Nico. 

Even his name was hot.

But what had you almost on your knees was when a pair of big, deep brown eyes met your own. Your breath hitched as Nico’s eyes raked down your body. If it was any other guy, you’d typically be bothered, but there was a strange feeling of comfort in his gaze.

His tongue darted out to wet his slightly-chapped lips and, if you weren’t so flustered, you could have sworn you saw Nico’s chest begin to rise quicker. Neither of you looked away from each other, not until Jack’s drunk form flung into Nico’s. The moment may have been fleeting, but the feeling Nico had left on you wasn’t. 

❥.

You didn’t run into Nico again until Luke had invited you to a Devil’s function at the Haula household. You were nervous, staying silent the entire ride over. 

“Are you alright?” Luke’s voice echoed in your ears, snapping you back to reality. 

“Mhm, yeah. I’m okay, just a little nervous, I guess.” You bit your lip, looking back out of the window. 

“Aw, c’mon, Y/n. You’ve already met almost everyone that’s gonna be there. They all love you.” 

You just gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. You had failed to mention your little “encounter” with Nico the week prior. Simply because you felt it was too insignificant to bring up to your new friend, especially with the man in question being Luke’s captain. 

When the car finally parked in front of the big house, you felt yourself hesitating. You knew Nico was already inside, as Luke had been running behind on his way to pick you up. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about Nico that made your heart race and knees wobbly, but it was hard to hide his effect on your body. 

“You coming?” Luke walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

It was now or never. 

You followed Luke into the house, quickly being welcomed by familiar faces. Although the face you were most anxious to see was nowhere to be found. You felt your stomach drop a little bit at his absence but shook off the feeling as Dawson made his way to you. 

“Hey, y/n/n! How ya been? I haven’t seen you in forever…” He whined, making you laugh. 

“I literally saw you last week Daws, but I’m just fine.” You let your eyes drift over Dawson’s shoulder briefly, still not seeing Nico. 

“Ah, I see,” Dawson drawled, making your eyes shoot back toward his, “You’re just concerned with finding “Mr. Pretty-Brown-Eyes,” He mocked.

“Dawson!” You slapped him slightly, “I texted you that in confidence!” You looked around to make sure no one had heard the loud boy’s comment. Seeing as everyone was preoccupied, you let out a relieved sigh. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry! But, you can’t deny it. You’ve looked like a lost puppy since you and Luke stepped through the door.”

“Oh, whatever, I have not.” You pouted. 

“Have to- Oh look! There’s Nico!” 

You whipped your head in the direction Dawson was looking, only to be met with an empty wall. You turned back, stone-faced. 

“Haha, very funny, Mercer. Very funny.” You rolled your eyes at his antics, genuinely starting to feel a little sad that you hadn’t seen Nico yet. 

“C’mon, I can help you find him.”

You shook your head in protest, “No, no, absolutely not. Nope.” 

Dawson’s brows furrowed, “Why not? You very obviously want to see him.” 

“For your information, Dawson, I haven’t ever actually talked to him before.” You turned up your nose, rejecting the idea. 

“So you’re delusional?” Dawson deadpanned. 

Your jaw dropped, “Well, damn. Way to call a girl out.” 

He rolled his eyes, “I’m kidding..for the most part,” You gave him a pointed look, “Just come on, I’ll introduce you as my friend. I’ll even start the conversation. It’ll be fine, y/n/n.”

“Not happening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find the bathroom.”

“Sure, sure, escape just when I give you the opportunity of a lifetime.” 

You opted to ignore Dawson as you walked away, heading to the set of stairs that led to the second story. Having overheard someone ask earlier, you knew the bathroom was somewhere upstairs. Turning knobs, you eventually found the bathroom, walking in to do your business. 

Once you had finished, you opened the door to leave, not really paying attention to your surroundings. You stumbled back as you ran straight into a hard chest. 

“Shit!” Your hand flew to cover the slight red spot on your forehead, “I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going!” You apologized profusely, still not looking to see who you ran into. 

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. It was my fault.” The sound of a thick accent made your skin heat up. You looked up slightly, meeting Nico’s eyes. You swallowed thickly. 

“I don’t think we’ve met, properly. I’m Nico.” He flashed his dimples. 

Oh god. 

“I know who you are,” You panicked, “I-I mean, I’m Y/n.” 

He laughed, “Well then, I know who you are too.” 

“You do?” You peered up at him through your lashes, leaning your back against the door frame. 

Nico nodded, eyes slightly hooded. “Yeah, I saw you with Luke at the bar last week. You were wearing that black dress.” 

Your breath picked up at his statement. “You remember what I was wearing?” You silently cursed yourself for not being able to muster up any other words. 

Nico’s arm rose to rest above your head as he leaned closer down to you, “How could I not remember? It’s kind of hard to forget someone like you.” 

Before you could reply, you heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. 

“Hey, cap! You up here?” 

With your nerves getting the best of you, you took the chance to slip out of his bubble, quickly making your way back downstairs. 

Holy shit. 

❥.

Your encounters with Nico became more frequent, as you often were with the boys. The little flirty remarks only worsened, except now Nico took a liking to placing lingering touches on your body. 

Grabbing your hips to move you over, or slightly pulling your hand to lead you through public places. It felt as if he would find any excuse to touch you. Not that you were complaining, but it left your mind hazy. You would like to think he was into you the way you were him, but you couldn’t be sure.

You knew hockey players had “conquests,” and you weren’t really in the market to be one. So, you kept your feelings to yourself, not ready to face the harsh reality of Nico not being serious about pursuing you, at least romantically speaking. Which led you to now, meeting at the Hughes’ apartment for the weekly movie night. 

The whole ordeal started after a night out in which mostly everyone got too hammered to get home safely. Tonight’s movie agenda was the entire “Hunger Games” series since Luke has been wanting to go see the newest that just hit theaters. 

After Jack let you in the apartment, you made a b-line to the side room off the hallway that held all the blankets. You made sure to get the same one every movie night, refusing to share with anyone else. Curling up in your usual corner, a knock at the door stilled the apartment. 

“Who’s that?” Dawson asked Luke, who was making popcorn in the kitchen.

“It’s probably Nico. He wanted to start joining us for movie night.” 

You felt your body perk up at the new information, you’d be seeing Nico weekly. Another knock followed after a minute. 

“Could one of you please get that? I’m busy perfecting this popcorn.” 

“It’s literally just popcorn, Luke.” Dawson remarked. 

“No, there is the perfect butter-to-popcorn ratio that I have figured out. Now, please, let the captain inside.” 

Dawson, who just sat down, turned to you, “Can you let Cap in, y/n/n?” He smirked, “I’m still trying to get comfortable.” 

You narrowed your eyes in his direction, clearly picking up on what he was trying to do. 

“Guys?” Luke called, “It’s gonna get awkward if you don’t let him in.” 

Huffing, you rose from your spot, “I’m going, I’m going. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Luke.” 

You gripped the cold metal doorknob, taking a deep breath before opening it. 

Whoa.

You felt yourself shamelessly check out Nico’s attire, his muscular form clad in grey sweats and a simple black t-shirt. An action that did not go unnoticed by Nico. 

He smirked, gently brushing past you, “Who’s panties are in a twist?” 

Goosebumps rose upon your heated skin. 

A man that hot should never be allowed to say panties so casually. 

By the time you got back to your spot, a certain Swiss male had decided to occupy the once-perfect corner seat. Your shoulders slumped slightly, you felt a whine build up in your throat. 

“Nico, you know I always sit there.” You pouted at him, sending a glare his way. 

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, we can share. My lap still has plenty of room.” 

You could have sworn you stopped breathing. The way his brown eyes shined into yours made you almost hopeful that his smooth words were more than just a ploy, but doubt still rang clear in your ears. Before you could respond, Jack and Luke entered the living room, both with bowls full of popcorn. 

“Hey Y/n, would you mind going to grab some more blankets for everyone? We have our hands full with this popcorn.” Jack asked you, sending you a grateful smile. 

You eagerly accepted the offer to escape. Opening the closet door, you quickly shut it halfway, taking a moment to compose yourself. 

In and out, Y/n. In and out. 

Once your breathing was semi-normal, you turned around grabbing an armful of random blankets. As you turned once more, this time to leave, you ran into a hard chest. 

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this, pretty girl.” Nico’s voice echoed in your ears as he quietly shut the door behind him. You scoffed, placing the blankets on the shelf beside you. Crossing your arms, you looked into Nico’s eyes. 

“And you really need to stop calling me that.” You slightly cringed at how harsh your words sounded through the small space. Nico’s face fell slightly. 

“Why’s that? Hm?” He quirked his head to the side, slowly backing you up until you hit the wall. You did your best to control the raging fire in your chest or the way your skin crawled at his proximity. 

“Because you don’t mean it, at least not seriously mean it.” 

Nico placed his hands softly on your hips, gripping them into his own. “I mean what I say. I haven’t been playing with you, ya know.” His face now had a pink twinge as he looked down, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks, but every time I say something you run away.” 

You looked away from him guiltily. He wasn’t making it up, you did try and find any possible reason to avoid him when he started getting flirty. Only because you knew he wasn't truly into you, or at least thought he wasn’t. 

Nico’s hand reached up to turn your head back towards him, your lips only inches apart. You could feel his shallow breaths fanning on your aching lips. It was tempting, being so close to him. He was a drug and you were trying so hard not to get addicted. 

“I only ran because,” You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because why, schatzi?” 

A whimper almost escaped your throat at his choice of name. 

“Because I didn’t want to give in.” Your words hung around the both of you. You didn’t know where to look, nervous for Nico’s response.

“I do,” You darted your eyes into Nico’s at his low voice, “I want you to give in.” 

“Nico-”

“No,” He cut you off, lips now brushing against yours, “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it.”

I just want to give in.

Your hand reached up to Nico’s jaw, finally pulling him down to crash your lips together. The kiss was desperate, both of you hot and needy for each other. Nico groaned into the kiss, pulling your hips deeper into him. His tongue danced across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Letting him in, you whined at the taste. 

You finally pulled away, breathless. 

“Wow.” That’s all you could muster. You could feel Nico’s racing heartbeat under your fingertips where your hand rested on his chest.

He rested his forehead against yours, nodding slightly. 

“Yeah, wow.” 

You nudged his head up, his doe-eyes peering into yours. You opened your mouth to say something but were quickly cut off, once again. 

“Before you say anything, just know that I’m serious about you. I think I have been since I saw you at that bar.” 

You bit the inside of your lip, “Promise?” 

Nico placed a sweet kiss on your nose, “Promise.” 

The moment was temporary, being ruined by a loud voice, “Cap and Mrs. Cap! Get your asses out here and quit fucking each other. I am NOT in the mood to be an uncle.” 

“Screw you, Dawson!”

[maybe-im-dark]

Half the boyfriend, half the fun

Chapter 2 | Chapter 1

The best way to pass the time until his legs fully grew back was to sit in Dopinder's car and eat samosas. Wade ignored Dopinder's complaints that his mother had baked them for him. She could make new ones. He had bigger worries. He couldn’t stop thinking about Logan and the fact that he was responsible for his condition. Damn, he couldn’t even remember exactly what had happened! If only he’d never convinced Logan to come along on this mission. But that was just another bad decision added to the long line of bad decisions that defined his life. He could practically hear his father’s voice. Idiot, faggot, loser! You can’t do anything right! Wade shook his head. No! He would make it right. He would find a way to fix this.

He pulled his phone out of his belt pouch and sent a text.

Wade: Hey :3

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: What do you want?

Wade: I need a fayvr. Big one

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: ?

Wade: Logan’s hewrt. U need to find out wat they're dooing to him

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Find out yourself

Wade: I...may or may not be bent from the promises

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Not my problem

Wade: Then I’ll brayk in

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: You’re gonna get in so much trouble

Wade: Aight bet

Wade looked down at his legs. A few toes were still missing, but otherwise, they were back in their scarred, pale glory.

"Dopinder, I have to go. You wouldn’t happen to have pants for me, would you?"

He eyed Dopinder’s jeans.

Dopinder shook his head vigorously. "No, you’re not getting mine!"

Wade sighed. "It’s probably for the best. These buns don’t wear Levi’s!"

Sneaking around the back of the building was easier than expected. There was no sign of security cameras, but then again, who needed them with mutants who could see through walls? Unfortunately for him, none of the windows were open, so his plan of entering quietly was thwarted. Concentrating, he scanned the ground until he found what he was looking for.

"Let him, who is without sin, cast the first stone!" he muttered with a grin, tossing a rock through the window.

After climbing inside, Wade realized he was completely lost. The mansion was a maze, and he’d only been there a few times. The wood-paneled walls all looked the same, and the portraits of old white men didn’t provide any hints as to where he was.

"Quentin, was that you? I told you to..."

Storm was descending the stairs. Her white hair was styled in a sassy pixie cut, and she wore a pink crop top with glittery letters spelling out, "RAINING ON YOUR PARADE."

When she saw Wade, she let out a sharp shriek and covered her eyes.

"Wade?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren’t you wearing pants?"

The mercenary puffed out his chest. "Marvel Jesus doesn’t need mundane things like pants!"

Storm sighed, still covering her eyes. "I’ll take you to the Professor."

Now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants emblazoned with the school emblem, Wade sat stiffly in front of Professor Xavier’s desk, arms crossed, staring at the wall. The spacious office felt confining to him, like a cage, despite the ample space and the light streaming through the tall windows. Behind the desk was a bookshelf set into the wood-paneled wall, filled with countless books whose gilded, ornate titles he couldn’t decipher. In one corner stood a large globe, and in another, a sitting area with a chessboard. On the desk itself were a few file folders, a Newton’s cradle, and a photo of the Professor himself, younger and with a full head of hair. Beside him stood another young man with his arm draped around him, presumably Magneto. It might have been more than a friendly gesture; they’d been arguing for decades like an old married couple.

"Wade," Charles said, giving him a calming smile. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

Wade shook his head defiantly. "I don’t want a drink. I want to see Logan."

The Professor’s expression turned somber. "You know that’s not possible."

"Urgh, okay. I’m sorry for calling you Egghead. Can I see Logan now?"

"I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the situation, Wade. Something has nullified Logan’s healing factor. Dr. McCoy is currently treating him, and any outside influence could be harmful to him in this critical state."

Wade’s eyes narrowed. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

Charles thoughtfully placed a finger on his chin. "Well, you could help by telling us what happened. Jean mentioned that you also lost your legs. A failed mission, I assume. What exactly happened there?"

Wade ran his hands over his face. "That’s the thing! I don’t remember! I..."

His voice broke. Loser. He was a fucking loser. The love of his life was fighting for his life, and his brain had decided to shut down. Logan was going to die painfully, and it was all his fault. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Charles took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I could help you remember."

Wade nearly jumped out of his chair. "Oh no! After Cassandra Nova—did you know you had a psychopathic twin sister?— there’s no way I’m letting anyone into my head again."

"I’ll only see what you allow me to see, and only with your consent," Charles assured him.

Wade swallowed and nodded. After all, this wasn’t about him. Charles slowly extended his fingertips toward him. He’d nearly reached Wade’s temple when the screams echoed through the halls. Desperate, raw, agonizing screams. Logan’s screams.

Wade burst out the door, ignoring the Professor’s shouts. He ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn’t know where he was going, just following the sound of the screams, his chest tight with fear. His bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as he followed the sounds to a door with frosted glass. It was locked, but that was no obstacle for Wade, who’d served in a military special unit. He pivoted halfway, raised his leg, and kicked hard. The door burst open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Hank was bending over an operating table. Logan lay on it, his torso crudely stapled back together at the hips. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What froze the blood in Wade’s veins were the tubes. Countless tubes and wires ran out of Logan’s body and back into him at different points. He looked like a machine. But unlike machines, he was screaming.

Wade was reminded of Weapon X. He quickly made his way over to Logan. Logan’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his closed lids.

"Oh God, what did you do to him?"

He reached out to stroke Logan’s face, but Logan’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. His eyes snapped open, revealing yellow irises staring at Wade from blood-red sclera. His lips parted, exposing razor-sharp fangs. Then he lunged forward and sank his teeth into Wade.

[ilythecolorpink]

Secrets unfolding (Diluc Ragnvinder x fem reader)

With the moon gleaming on every house that you passed, it was a night unlike any other in Monstandt. As a result, you made the decision to see your dear friend Diluc Ragnvinder at the Dawn Winery as you had nothing else to do. You walk through the doors, and as you see Diluc trying to kick out Kaeya, you come out from behind them laughing at the scene that is unfolding right in front of your eyes. Diluc says to Kaeya “We have had this discussion many times before, Kaeya get out of my tavern.”

Kaeya then replies in a playful manner, "Oh Diluc, always so cold." As I tell Kaeya, "Aww poor baby, do you want me to give you a kiss before you leave?" Diluc glares annoyed at both Kaeya and I and says, "I don't have time for this, just go." As Keaya turns to walk away, he chuckles and says, "Yeah yeah, whatever, by the way, I like your little girlfriend Diluc." He chuckles as he exits the building. When Diluc makes eye contact with me and clears his throat, I turn my attention to him noticing the blush on his cheeks, and tease him, saying, "You know Diluc, you look cute when you're all flustered."

 He turns away to cover his face and says, "I swear you and Kaeya are so troublesome." I then say, "Oh yeah?" while leaning against the bar. "You gonna punish me for it?” When he realizes how nervous he was, he turns around and asks, "What did you say again?" as I amusedly chuckle, I say, "Oh Diluc, you know I don't like repeating myself twice." I then say, "Relax, I'm just messing with you." You really do like messing with me, don't you? he asks. After that, I give him an affectionate grin and remark, "Oh but of course, it's always a dream to see your reactions." He gives me a small smile as he says, "Hmm, if only I could see yours as well."

As I turn to leave to let him do his task, I flush somewhat at his forwardness and add, "Hm, maybe when we are alone, I can show you all kinds of reactions, darling”. I closed the door and left him alone with his thoughts. Then, Diluc asks himself, "What am I going to do with her?" After some time, I'm instructed to look into the man known as The Darknight Hero; as a member of the Fatui, you were aware that this would be challenging but oh well. You dressed yourself in your outfit and mask to cover your identity as you walk behind a place to see the very man himself.

 The moment you emerged from the shadows, you said, "My my, no one told me that you would be this handsome up close, it would be a shame if I have to ruin that pretty face of yours." He looks at me and says, "Well aren't you a sweet talker, unfortunately, your charms won't work on me," I remark with dissatisfaction "Aw, that's too bad, I really thought we had some chemistry."

Then, after picking up his claymore and ordering me to "Shut your mouth," I teasingly respond, "Make me pretty boy." After some time, he eventually cuts my mask as he presses me against the wall, clutching my throat. As the mask starts to fall, I mutter, "mm kinky, are we darling?" as I'm now breathing heavily with a blush creeping its way down my cheeks. He yells, "Y/N, is that you?" as he looks at me in complete shock.

He lets go of his grip on my neck and removes his mask. Then, with him still pressing up against me, I say, "Diluc? You are the Darknight Hero? Then, nodding slightly, he angrily declares, "You are a Fatui, and you never told me, tell me was our friendship all a lie?" I then turn to face him, a sad expression on my face, and say, "No, it never was, I would talk to you every night and day as me, not an enemy, a Fatui member, or anything like that, I spoke to you as a friend just because I'm a part of the Fatui doesn't define the person I am."

I gently push him away as I speak, but as soon as I do, I feel him grab my wrist as he roughly presses his lips against mine in such intense need. I draw him in by the collar and let him kiss me while moaning into the kiss. Then he steps back and says, "About punishing you earlier, I might actually have to do it. Tell me, sweetheart, do you think you can handle me?"

A/N: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT. I TRULY APPRECIATE IT. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

[queerfootfella]

Ethan lagged behind Braeden as the 23-year-old led his buddy down a bike trail in the local park. Sweaty from walking in the muggy weather, Ethan wiped his forehead. The reason for the trip was to muck up Braeden’s feet, so he was glad the weather was good for something. A generous request for a video of Braeden’s dirty feet was submitted to his OnlyFans. Ethan was his only friend who knew about this stream of income and was happy to oblige when he asked for help.

“Why don’t you start shooting here, dude?” suggested Braeden. “I haven’t seen anybody pass for a while. Get low to the ground and focus on my feet,”

“Got it. You gonna tell me when to stop, or should I film all the way to the bench?”

“All the way to the bench, then we can stop. I need to put my little microphone on for the verbal part,”

“Sounds good. I’ll count you down when you’re ready,”

“Thanks again for doing this, dude. I don’t know how I would have filmed this on my own. Ready to go when you are,”

“No problem! Okay – five, four, three, two,” said Ethan as he sank into a squat. He whispered one and Braeden slowed his gait so his cameraman could keep up. He tapped the feet on the center of Braeden’s iPhone 14 to focus the camera and hit record.

Finally, Ethan thought, Braeden was telling him to look at his feet. He’d made a nasty habit lately out of coveting them secretly. It wasn’t just the feet themselves that drove him crazy, though they were certainly beautiful – size 13, long toes, smooth soles, and well-defined arches. No, what mesmerized Ethan was the way Braeden endlessly moved his feet. If his feet were out in front of him, he would curl and spread his toes. When he was sitting with his feet beneath him, he would use his hands to stretch his toes and crack his knuckles; he liked to use his big toe to pop his second when his hands weren’t within reach. The motion of and attention to his own feet was near constant, and Ethan had a tough time not fixating on it.

Now that he was behind a camera, his job was to document those very toe fidgets and sole scrunches. Just watching him walk was so hot, how to film them came naturally.  Every few steps, Braeden would slow to just before a stop. Sometimes, he’d leave one foot in mid-step to show the camera his progressively grimier soles. Each time he stopped, Ethan inched toward them until the bare foot was front and center. He held on to every detail until Braeden walked again. With each fresh start, Ethan found a new angle to feature. Once, he focused on his legs and ass walking. Another time, he moved slightly in front of him to show the tops of his feet. It felt like a dance: Ethan’s partner was the air between Braeden’s soles and the ground and the beat was feet slapping against concrete.

As Braeden turned toward the destination bench and off the pavement, he measured his steps even more precisely. Ethan made a point of getting a close shot of his soles walking across actual earth. Rocks were sticking to his sweaty soles. They looked even more pillowy with pebbles sinking into them. Ethan circled around to film in front of Braeden as he approached the bench. He sat and crossed one foot over the other, which Ethan zoomed in close on. He pulled the camera outward until just before his head was in frame and hit the record button once more.

“And, cut!” said Ethan, “You wanna see it?”

“Yeah, actually. If it didn’t turn out, we can try again on the walk back,” Braeden took his phone back from Ethan.

“I hope it did, my legs are fucking tired from that squat shit,”

Braeden laughed and sat down on the bench, flexing his foot. “I appreciate it so much, man. Imagine trying to film this by yourself with a selfie stick! I would look insane if I got caught. At least this way, you could back me up and tell them I’m doing it for money,”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t know what to say if I got caught like that,” Ethan said. It would be a dream to catch you filming your own feet in the park and I don’t know how I’m going to stop myself from licking them, he thought.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon after he met Braeden in college, Ethan noticed how nice his feet were. He always noticed how nice people’s feet were. Generally, he tried to avoid taking too keen an interest in his friends’ feet. Foot fetishists have a creepy reputation already, and Ethan didn’t want to be thought of like that. Besides that, Ethan had gotten close with Braeden. He wasn’t about to ruin a good friendship because he wanted to suck toes. There were plenty of other toes to suck.

However, one afternoon at Braeden’s apartment, he got a little too nosy. Ethan had always wondered how he afforded so many shoes and video games. The few times he asked about it, Braeden was dodgy. Never close to a satisfactory answer. He’d always had more money than Ethan and their other friends in college, and Braeden claimed for years that all he did was wait tables.

“Okay, seriously, how did you afford a new PC? Didn’t you get a PS5 like six months ago?”

“Working at the restaurant, dude! People like to tip young, strapping men like yours truly,”

“Of course,” Ethan laughed, “but it’s not just the games, or even the shoes and the games. I mean, this apartment is nice as hell! And we hang out too much for you to work much more than like 25 or 30 hours a week. I don’t want to pry, but I’ve always wondered. I’ll only judge if it sounds exceptionally dangerous,”

Braeden looked at Ethan for a few seconds. “Okay, fine. But this stays between us,”

“Of course! I’m not looking for gossip. Maybe some finance tips,”

“So, um. Have you ever heard of BraxTheeAlpha on Onlyfans?”

Ethan roared, “No way! I haven’t heard of him, but he sounds hot,”

“He’s sort of a hunk, yeah,”

“Is it safe to assume you are Brax?”

“In the flesh,” said Braeden, cartoonishly flexing, “Is it really that surprising?”

“Well, yes and no. I mean, like LMFAO said, you’re sexy and you know it. I just didn’t take you for the type, I guess. I don’t know what the type is, exactly,”

“Young, hot and sort of broke?”

“I’d throw vein in there,” he said, and laughed as Braeden started flexing again, “So, I have two follow up questions,”

“Yes, you can subscribe. It’s ten bucks a month,”

“Wow, affordable!” Ethan took out his phone and pretended to start looking it up, “How do you spell that?”

“B-r-a-x and ‘Thee Alpha’ like ‘Thee Stallion’. No spaces,”

“Got it. I’ll need that for my research,” he said. Lying is easier when you just tell the truth as a joke, thought Ethan.

“Looking to invest in a local, humble sex worker?”

“No, just trying to figure out how much money my friend makes from selling access to what type of pornography,”

“Okay, I’ll start with the less embarrassing part. I make about six thousand a month from posting: fourty-five hundred or so from monthly subscriptions and around two thousand from tips, used socks, custom videos, other fetishy content. Give or take a couple hundred,”

“Damn, that is definitely not embarrassing,”

“Nah, it’s tight. But I make… foot fetish videos,”

Ethan’s eyes got wide. “Damn, no way! I knew people liked feet, but I didn’t realize you could cash in like that without showing hole,” he lied. “I don’t think that’s embarrassing,”

Braeden laughed, “Well, I guess I don’t think of it like that as much anymore. I mean, the feet are where the money’s at. There’s just that connotation, you know? I got a couple foot people in my Instagram comments and DM’s freshman year of college. I thought it was super weird and just hid the comments at first. Then, some of them started offering money. I got talking to this one dude who bought pictures and he told me I should start a foot page or OnlyFans or something. Eventually, I did. It started as something to do for a little extra spending money, but the shit took off after a couple years of doing it. Now, I have this whole separate online foot master persona. When I graduated college, I just told my boss I was gonna take an extra two years for a graduate program and needed to stay part time. I do like 20 hours a week at the restaurant, but most of my money comes from the same amount of time doing stuff for the OnlyFans. If it keeps going well, I might just do it full time,”

“Damn, I don’t blame you if you’re making that much. Still, 20 hours a week? What takes so long?”

“Well, I’m counting going to the gym. I always wanted to go more during college anyway, and these foot dudes will pay for your used socks, sweaty underwear, videos of my feet in the gym mirror – they love that jock alpha shit. The more in shape I am, the more money I make. Filming and editing the videos takes some time, posting on Twitter, Instagram and OnlyFans regularly, responding to DM’s, video calls. I’ve had to coordinate a couple meetups with people to film videos. It’s all pretty fun, to be honest. I’ve gotten into it more than I ever thought I would. Plus, it’s way easier than finding a ‘real job’.”

“Honestly, dude, that’s sweet. If you like doing it and you can make that much with it, why not,” Ethan thought he was holding it together pretty well.

Relieved, Braeden reached over to slap Ethan’s hand and said, “Thanks, man! I’m honestly glad you asked. It feels good to tell somebody in real life,”

“Yeah, dude, glad you told me! I can’t believe I’ve been hanging out with a foot celebrity for all these years,”

“Y’know, since you reacted so cool, do you think you’d ever be willing to help me film some things? I can get most of it done on my own, but I’ve had to decline a few offers because I couldn’t film something right. I’d give you a quarter of the profit from whatever videos you help with,”

“Oh, sure, dude, whatever you need!” That felt too eager. “Well, maybe not anything,” he turned red and added, “but I can help you film for a little money,”

“Nothing too crazy, I just need somebody to film while I’m walking or moving or whatever. Or while somebody is licking my feet. You don’t have to get your tongue dirty if you don’t want to,” Braeden winked, his last sentence delivered with a bit of BraxTheeAlpha arrogance.

“I can help with the camera, I would need a bigger cut of the money to go that far,” Ethan laughed, his cheeks ripening still.

“Nah, I have plenty of people willing to do that part for free,”

“Clearly! They pay you just to look at them,”

“Exactly. You’ll have to do a lot more than lick my feet and help me film here and there to get a chunk of the BraxTheeAlpha empire,” Braeden’s joking condescension felt more genuine with each sentence.

Ethan felt compelled to follow this dominant streak to see where it might lead, but he couldn’t bring himself to submit to his friend like that. “Alrighty, if the all-powerful BraxTheeAlpha needs any help taking videos of his feet for horny men on the internet, he can let me know,” Ethan chided.

Braeden laughed hard at that and said, “For sure, man, I will,”

Ethan waited three days to subscribe to BraxTheeAlpha on OnlyFans after that. His username was EthanLovesToes, but his profile picture was of an anonymous man’s feet and his page contained no identifying information. The topic never came up between them, so Ethan assumed Braeden didn’t make the connection. The thought of telling Braeden about his foot fetish crossed Ethan’s mind pretty often once he knew about his profession. On one hand, he loved Braeden as a friend. They were both single, open-minded people, but they’d never had a sexual relationship at all. On top of that, Ethan wasn’t sure how much, if any, of Braeden’s motivation for running the page was sexual. At the same time, Ethan couldn’t help but think about the potential of getting more intimate with Braeden’s feet.

The first time Braeden asked for help was about two weeks after Ethan found out about BraxTheeAlpha. They were hanging out at Braeden’s apartment and about an hour in, Braeden told him that he either needed to leave within ten minutes or record somebody worshipping his feet. Ethan agreed to stay. The man was only there for about half an hour and Ethan, the only person there not wearing an elastic mask, was introduced as ‘Master’s friend and cameraman’. Although there was a dream scenario unfolding in front of him, Ethan’s focus was strictly on filming a good video; as much as he could, he tuned out the verbal admonishment Braeden’s sub was receiving. He knew he’d be able to watch the video later on, he figured, why risk popping a hardon? What if he got too horny and outed his fetish? When the man left the guys joked around about it for a bit, but Ethan changed the subject as soon as he could. Just keep saying yes, Ethan reasoned, even if you never do anything but help him film here and there, maybe an opportunity will present itself. Braeden asked him to help record a video of him walking barefoot in Carson Park the next week.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Speaking of not knowing what to say, try not to get weirded out by the dirty feet talk you’re about to hear. The dude who bought this video said don’t hold back on the humiliation,” said Braeden as he handed his phone back to Ethan, “That looks great, by the way. That would have been impossible for me to get alone,”

“All in a day’s work,” Ethan said with a coy smile.

“I’m impressed you know how these foot freaks like their videos. It took a lot of trial and error, and comments and DMs from horny foot dudes, for me to figure it out,”

“Heh, I guess I just have an artist’s eye,” Braeden laughed at that, and Ethan hoped that meant he played it off well.

“I’ll say,” he replied. “Okay, frame it so my feet are about center, and make sure it cuts off somewhere between my shoulders and neck,” Braeden dug around in his canvas tote until he found his microphone. “Oh, and feel free to move the camera around a little bit, but make sure stick around for a while on each angle. I need to get screenshots for the socials,”

“What a marketing king. Tell me when you’re ready,”

“Ready!”

“Okay – five, four, three, two,” he pointed at Braeden and hit record. Though he’d been scrunching his toes absentmindedly since he sat down, Braeden started exaggerating the stretches and wiggles for the camera.

He began, “I hope you knew what you were in for when you asked to clean my dirty feet, boy. These fuckers need a lot of TLC. You’re not finished until every inch is spotless,”

With that, Ethan brought the camera in close and swept the view across Braeden’s soles to show all the dirt some internet sub paid to imagine he was cleaning.

After a robust silence filled with a medley of teasing foot wiggles, Braeden continued, “It’s probably killing you that you can’t do anything about it. Helplessly masturbating behind a screen, knowing that a washcloth in my shower is going to receive the honor of revealing the smooth soles beneath this dirt instead of your tongue,”

He wasn’t kidding when he said he had gotten into this, Ethan thought. The first time he filmed, having to focus on shooting Braeden’s feet around some dude’s head helped keep him from getting into the content. Today, it was just him and the dirty soles of BraxTheeAlpha. Ethan pulled the camera back a bit. Taking his body with the phone, he lowered the camera below Braeden’s crossed soles. He made sure the shot was focused, then looked up at Braeden for the first time since the video began. The self-assured smile on his face made Ethan’s dick twitch. His eyes shot back at the phone.

“How sad. I’m sure you’re fucking leaking just imagining this dirt,” he rubbed his feet together, “sprinkling onto your pathetic face,” Braeden spat at the ground. The loogie landed less than a foot from Ethan’s face. “Loser,” Ethan looked for Braeden’s eyes after that line and found them staring back at him. Braeden maintained that cocky expression and resumed, “I mean, seriously. Aren’t you like 50 and married? And you’re paying some 23-year-old on OnlyFans $50 for two three-minute videos of his filthy feet? You could take that money and go spend a nice date night with your wife, or maybe save it up for a gift for her. Instead, you want to give it to me, so you can pound your piggy little cock looking at my fuckin’ feet,” Braeden laughed at the idea, “That’s incredible, truly. At this rate, I can’t imagine what you would pay me to come treat you like the dog you are in real life. You’d probably even let me fuck that wife of yours if I wanted to! For now, I’m happy just fucking your wallet,”

Despite the specificities, Ethan was just as hypnotized by the degradation as he imagined the cuck buying the video would be. He was fully hard by the end of the monologue and had to get creative to make his final camera angle shift without showing it. He backed the camera up as he moved into a squat, dick secure against his waistband, and panned the camera upward.

“Come back down here, bitch, I need you up close and personal. You have to kiss the soles gracing your screen before I finish up,” Albeit he was making eye contact before, this statement felt more like it was directed at the customer and the cameraman. He looked up to see Braeden smile and wink, then motion his head downward, eyebrows raised. Ethan did as he was instructed and sank back into his previous position.

“There you go. C’mon, even closer,” Ethan scooted forward, his hand now an inch from the evaporating loogie, “Now plant a big wet kiss on that screen, pig. Mhm, good boy,” Braeden raised his feet in the air, “Now wave goodbye! Oh, I forgot to mention, you owe me $25 if you came the first time through,”

Braeden set his feet down, but Ethan kept filming. He barely noticed Braeden was trying to wrap it up he was so fixated on the iPhone screen.

“Cut, buddy! That was over three minutes, right?”

Ethan scrambled to end the recording and check. He stammered, “Uh, yeah, it was 3:23,” and hopped to his feet. His brain was having trouble breaking out of BraxTheeAlpha’s enchantment.

“Sweet! I hope it wasn’t too weird that I was looking at you. It helped me get into the verbal, so thanks,” Braeden’s expression had softened some, but with his ankles crossed and soles facing him, he still carried a superior glow.

“Oh yeah, man, it was, uh, I mean, I sorta figured that,”

“Let me see the video, dude!”

Ethan handed him the phone and Braeden started skimming through. He brushed the dirt off his shirt. “I tried to get a couple different angles,”

“You did!” he said, scrubbing through, “I like it. And this last one will be great for the screenshots. Okay, great, let’s get out of here,” Braeden unclipped his microphone and returned it to the bag. After he pulled out his slides, he brushed the dirt off his soles and placed each foot in a sandal. “You good, dude? You’re kind of staring,”

“Yeah, um, I was just waiting for you,”

“Look man. If you’re not gonna say it, I need to ask – are you into feet?”

“How – what?”

“So yes, then,” Braeden paused for a response and continued when he didn’t get one, “It’s not a big deal! I love dudes with foot fetishes. I mean, I’ve made a career off the guys, for god’s sake,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; I didn’t want you to think me being into your feet was part of why we were friends or anything like that, but when you told me about this and asked for help, I couldn’t say no,”

“Oh, I could tell! I had absolutely no idea you were into feet before you were excited to help me film so quickly. I’d assume if you were perving on my feet before that, you would have done something creepy already,”

“You knew that long ago?”

“Well, no, but that was the first little clue. Then, I thought it was a funny coincidence that somebody called EthanLovesToes subscribed to me just a few days after I told you about the page,”

“I figured that Ethan’s a common name…”

“Right, so did I. I didn’t even think much of it when that worship video turned out so good, because I figured the idea of filming the feet and not the head was pretty easy. It was when the video of my soles walking was so perfect. It took forever for me to get how I should film for the OnlyFans. After that, it all sort of came together in my brain. So, during the video, I made sure to pay attention to how you were reacting. When I say visibly horny, I need you to know just how much I mean that,”

Ethan’s face burned through his shy smile. “I was trying so hard to hide it!” he said, and Braeden laughed.

“Well,” Braeden stood up and walked over to Ethan, “there’s not a ton of great ways to hide that,” he said, pointing to the vertical lump in Ethan’s shorts.

“Listen,”

“Let’s walk back to the car. I have way too many ideas, and as much as you love my feet, I don’t know if you want the world to see those ideas,”

“Okay…” of course, Ethan was going to follow. He just couldn’t find any words. He would pay good money to watch the porno flick that he was living and breathing. The two started back toward the parking lot, toward a situation too good to be true.

“Do you have any other plans today, bud?”

“Um, not really. I was just gonna go play some games when we were done hanging,”

“Perfect! What game are you playing right now?”

“Oh, nothing new, just Dota,”

Braeden kept the small talk going as Ethan tried to make sure this was all still real. He wasn’t dumb; he knew Braeden finding out was a possibility. What he couldn’t believe was how perceptive he had been. The boner was a bit of a giveaway, but it sounded like Braeden knew before that. Regardless, judging by his reaction, Ethan should have drooled over them from the start.

As the driver’s side door closed, Ethan opened his door. By the time he was sitting, Braeden’s dirtied feet were hovering above the seat. He waited to get in and looked at his friend behind the wheel.

“Go on and sit down, Ethan! If at any point I go too far, say ‘banana’, and we can split,”

“Very clever safe word,” he said, sliding underneath his feet. There wasn’t much loose dirt left sticking to them, but his soles were still stained brown. “I never thought I’d say something like that to you,” Ethan chuckled.

“Same here, but sexy times call for sexy measures! Here’s the deal, Ethan: BraxTheeAlpha has been growing, but I haven’t been able to find the extra time to spend on it. I’m gaining followers, but I know if I were posting more often, and added new types of content, I could grow even faster and net more money from that growth. That’s where I see you coming in. Start massaging my feet if you’re intrigued,”

Ethan let hardly a second pass before he grabbed Braeden’s left foot and began to rub.

“Great! So, it’s been a struggle to find anyone because, while I make good money, I don’t make enough to lop off a living wage to pay somebody to help me out,” Ethan switched to Braeden’s right foot, “The only subs I talk to online who I think would do it for, let’s say alternative compensation, live too far away for that to be possible. Pop my right big toe in your mouth and start sucking if you see where I’m going and want to hear what I have in mind,”

This time, Ethan hesitated. Braeden just raised his eyebrows and waited, pointing the toe toward him. Timidly, Ethan leaned forward. He let his lips rest on the top of Braeden’s toe for a moment before he welcomed it into his mouth.

“I want you to record and edit all my pictures and videos,” Braeden began, maintaining eye contact as Ethan listened to his potential duties and swirled his tongue around the big toe. “We can schedule one or two times a week to record. I’ll still come up with some ideas for content, but I definitely want your input. You’ll manage my Instagram, Twitter and OnlyFans as well. Still interested, Ethan?”

He nearly spat Braeden’s toe out before he realized he wasn’t given a new command. Ethan nodded.

“Good – you had the right idea, left big toe now,”

Ethan’s right hand kept a grip on Braeden’s sole as he pulled the cleaned toe from his mouth. He used his other hand to bring his left toe to his mouth for the same treatment.

“Each new video, unless it’s a custom, needs to have a preview posted. I’ll leave editing them down to your discretion, just make sure it’s hard to cum without the full video,” Ethan laughed through the toe at that requirement. Braeden smiled and reasoned, “It’s good business!”

He took the toe out of his mouth but left his lips brushing against the bottom. “Hey, you’re the expert, I believe you,” said Ethan. When he finished speaking, he put it back in to signal Braeden to continue.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he snickered, “Sometimes I’ll just do a photoshoot – I like those to be between 15 and 20 pictures. Post one to four on Twitter and Instagram. For either video or photo previews, use the OnlyFans caption for the post and link the OnlyFans in the replies on Twitter and on Instagram Stories. I’d imagine you’re still in – start giving my other toes some love if I’m right,”

With a smack, Ethan removed the big toe and eyed up the second. First, he darted his tongue in the space between the toes. Satisfied it was clean, he engulfed the second toe and looked back toward Braeden.

“Ethan, I think you may be the man for this job,” Ethan smiled and started cleaning between Braeden’s second and third toe. “A couple more things, though. Like I said, I’ll still come up with ideas for videos, but I want you to compile any ideas or custom requests you find in my replies or my DM’s. Bring them to our recording sessions, as well as any messages or comments you think I might want to respond to personally. I’ll start signing the posts and replies that come directly from me,” he paused and waited for Ethan to look up from sucking the life out of his middle-left toe. “I hope you’re listening,” Ethan nodded, “and I hope you remember I have two more toes on this foot alone,” Braeden teased.

“The thought of it is making it a bit harder to focus,” Ethan admitted.

“You should have plenty of quality time with them to come,” Braeden said, and Ethan slipped his tongue in between the third and fourth toe, “but we have an interview to finish before I offer you this gig,”

“Fair enough, fire away,” Ethan said as he dove onto the fourth toe. He felt Braeden’s pinkie toe wiggling against his cheek.

“I also want you to respond to some of the spammy DM’s and comments. You’re a foot guy, I’m sure you’ll figure that out quickly. I think that’s it for the job description, let’s talk compensation,”

Ethan finished scrubbing between Braeden’s final two toes and said, “I hope I’m getting a preview of the employee benefits right now,” he said, finally taking the pinkie toe in and sucking.

“You read my mind! Specifically, if you don’t feel comfortable being on camera, I’m willing to offer an hour a week after a recording session for you to have your way with them as payment,”

With a sloppy, deliberate slurp, Ethan pulled all five of the toes on Braeden’s left foot out of his mouth and asked, “Can I start sucking the toes on your other foot to find out what I get if I am willing to be on video?” Braeden grinned and nodded, and Ethan dove in.

“I knew I sensed something special in you! Not every video will be a worship video, but a hell of a lot of them will be. If you want to wear a mask, you’re more than welcome. Of course, let me know if a video brushes up on a limit. On top of the private foot worship, I’ll throw in a cut of the profits. If I can make $7k a month, I can quit the restaurant and not lose any money. Anything I make beyond that is yours until we get to a 50/50 split. If you agree to that, I want both of my big toes in your mouth,”

Although he wasn’t even done with the third toe, Ethan couldn’t comply with Braeden’s demand faster. He started sucking both toes and Braeden pinched his cheeks with his big toes and second toes and pulled Ethan in towards him.

“This is going to be a very fun situation for the both of us,” he sneered and pulled his toes out of Ethan’s mouth. Braeden tapped his cheek firmly with the sole of his foot. “I’ll write up an official contract for us to sign next time we meet up,” he said. Ethan started to respond, but Braeden shushed him and placed both soles over his face. He continued, “I’ve been pretty cordial with this so far, but there’s one aspect I haven’t touched. You’re going to have to get comfortable with submitting to me on a regular basis. Nod if you understand,”

After Ethan nodded, Braeden extended his legs and pushed his head back until it was against the window.

“Start licking my soles,” Ethan opened his mouth wide and wiped his tongue against every square inch he could reach in his compromised position. Braeden continued, “We can still be friends, but this arrangement will be more intense than just friends with benefits. Outside of filming sessions, I’ll still call you Ethan and you can call me Braeden. We can hang out and play games! I also want our correspondence during the week about posting to remain professional. However, during filming sessions, from the second you walk in my door until we’re done filming, I will expect a total shift in the power dynamic. You will address me as either Sir or Master, and I will call you whatever demeaning name I see fit. I’ll establish an itinerary before the session, which will begin with your list of custom requests and video suggestions, and we will remain in our Dom and sub roles until the itinerary is complete. Between filming actual videos, I will expect you to remain subservient. You will be instructed to complete tasks outside of what will be posted online. For at least eight hours a week – no mandatory overtime, but there will probably be requests – you will be mine. Since you have tonight free, that begins right now. If you understand, hold my legs up and start licking the rest of my soles clean, boy,”

“Yes, sir,” said Ethan. He took Braeden’s calves in his hands and pulled them from his face, but before he could continue cleaning, his Master delivered a swift slap to his right cheek with his sole. The kick came with far more force than the tap he had just received.

“Remember the safe word, boy, and make sure you thank me when I give you a command,”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Master,” if it weren’t for his stinging face, Ethan would have pinched himself. With a new fervor from the hit, he dove back in to continue sucking the dirt off Braeden’s soles.

“Good piggy. You’re even more of a duck to water than I’d have thought,” he lifted his foot slightly and bent his toes toward him. Instantly, Ethan started sucking his heel and Braeden laughed. “A duck to water,” he repeated, still chuckling, “I can’t believe I missed out on this for five years,”

Once the heel he’d been offered was clean, Ethan moved Braeden’s feet to the side and said, “Thank you, Sir, I’m so excited to get started.

Braeden giggled and raised his feet back up, “That’s how I know this is going to work out,” he said, then pointed the other heel toward Ethan, who promptly took it upon himself to begin cleaning, “you learned from that slap. Plus, you’re already picking up on those nonverbal cues,” Braeden paused for a moment and Ethan kept licking. Dissatisfied, he took his other foot and slapped Ethan’s left cheek.

“Sorry, Sir. Thank you for the compliment, Master,” Ethan rushed in response before returning to his task. It wasn’t as hard as the first, but still plenty strong enough to relay the message.

“I might have spoken too soon! Try to learn from the slap this time. Now that I’ve got your verbal agreement, we can move onto some foot sub training. It might be a little painful, but I’ll try to avoid visible bruises,”

“Respectfully, Sir, that would be a banana,” Ethan said softly between licks.

“Fair enough, boy, I figured as much. Glad you said it. Though, it’s not gonna be smooth sailing,” he said. To make his point, he took his foot out of Ethan’s mouth and twisted his nipple with his toes through his shirt, causing him to yelp. “Work on cleaning the other foot if you understand,”

Ethan thanked his Master and pulled Braeden’s right foot to his face. Once the toes Ethan hadn’t gotten to clean already were in his mouth, Braeden let go of his nipple.

“Fantastic,” Braeden pulled out his phone and scrolled for a minute while Ethan worked on getting his spotless. The heels and toes were looking clean, so Ethan moved on to the side of Braeden’s right foot. He lowered his phone and gazed out the window, then said, “Sun’s gonna set in about 20 minutes, which means the park’s gonna close. My feet should be clean enough to put back in my sandals by then. If they’re not, you’ll drive me home, get in your car and leave to go edit and send the videos we just made. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so unless you have plans you absolutely can’t get out of, I’ll expect you at seven A.M. sharp to start filming. Well, we’ll start filming time – I’ll have a list of chores and a key under the mat. That should keep you busy until you wake me up at nine to start your, oh, I guess we can call it an orientation,”

“Thank you, Sir,” said Ethan, speaking between licks more fervent than before, “but what if I do have them clean before the park closes?”

“Well, you’d avoid your first real punishment, and playing Dota tonight would turn into some of the more fun parts of that orientation I talked about. I have another custom request to film and a video idea of my own,”

“Perfect, Master, I’ll try to get these cleaned to your liking as hard as I can,”

“That’s the spirit, Feethan!”

Ethan laughed and said, “That’s cute, Sir,”

“Get licking; be a foot scrubber now so you don’t have to be a toilet scrubber later,” Braeden demanded. He turned a playlist on and closed his eyes.

Get licking he did. He wasn’t really worried about the time limit – Braeden’s feet were so close to cleaned. It would be a labor of love to get them across the finish line. Ethan began with the right foot. He gathered as much spit as he could and slobbered it from top to bottom.

Compared to some of the feet Ethan had cleaned, Braeden’s feet weren’t even all that dirty. They were so smooth, and he normally kept them clean, so most of the dirt came away with a few licks. The guy would need to be barefoot a lot longer to challenge Ethan’s veteran tongue. He had the dirtiest spots excavated by the time his Master finished breaking down his new sub role. Now, he just needed to lap up what he missed, which meant he got to explore every inch of Braeden’s sole over and over again. He scrubbed some spots with his tongue. Each problem area would meet Ethan’s circling tongue while his lips sucked at the skin. When he figured he had it clean, he would release the sole and make sure he left only flesh remaining with a final lap. Meticulously, he went about spot checking the right foot for about five minutes in this way. Taking a minute or two to ensure the tops sparkled as the soles did, he then wiped the excess moisture onto his cheek, figuring he wouldn’t be allowed to use his shirt. He finished Braeden’s left foot even faster and used the same cheek method to dry it. Ethan gave them both a final once-over. He glanced out the windshield to check where the sun was at, then back to the feet. Reasoning that his tongue was probably dirtier than the soles at this point, he lowered Braeden’s feet to his chest with the sun inches from the horizon.

“I believe they’re clean, Master, would you like to check?”

“Obviously, boy,” Braeden turned the music down and flipped the overhead light on. His left leg supported by the foot on Ethan’s chest, he grabbed his right foot and crossed it over his knee. Flexing his ankle in every direction, Braeden made a show of inspecting for dirt. He spread his toes and peered between them. Finally, he said, “One down, one to go,” When he switched feet, instead of placing his right foot on Ethan’s chest, he opted for his face. Smothered sideways against the window, Ethan had to listen for the cue that would mean the difference between continuing an unimaginable night at his friend and Master’s feet and a night of homework into an early morning of chores.

“Thank you, Sir,” Ethan managed to say through squished lips. He figured a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt his chances.

“Don’t get used to this, but thank you, pig. You managed to snarf that dirt up so well, I don’t need to shower tonight. Which means you don’t have to do my chores until you screw something else up!”

“Oh, good, Master, thank you! I’m so glad I did well,” he said, still moving his mouth from between foot and glass. Mercifully, Braeden released him. He slipped on his sandals and opened his door.

“Okay, loser, when we’re on filming time, I don’t drive. If I’d known this was gonna happen today, I would have made you drive me in your car. You didn’t know either, so you don’t need to pay for my gas this time. But from here on out, filming time equals your gas,”

“Understood, Sir, thank you for allowing me to drive you,”

“Goddamn, dude, I love that you’re this much of a pig. Thanking me for letting you drive me? That’s dope,” He grabbed his crotch and said, “Y’know, if it’s in bounds, you’re being such a good boy that feet might not be the only thing you suck tonight,”

“Thank you, Master, that is well within bounds. I would be lucky to get to pleasure you like that,”

“You sure would be! But I’m getting ahead of myself. Hop in the driver’s seat and let’s get going. We have a great night ahead of us,”

“Yes, Sir, my pleasure!”

Let me know what you thought of what is potentially part one of BraxTheeAlpha! Probably won't start on a part two for my next story, as I want to write about some different scenario with a foot related Dom/sub dynamic. If you have any good premises, send those in as well!

[arc-tu-rus]

Six Song Soundtrack Game | Mina Mészáros

Tagged by: @mortifying-macaroni TYYY ♥

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following:

1. Event that defines your character's past: She's Got Medals (I've been listening to Bowie my entire life but only recently did I find this song and it's HAUNTING me. I was planning an illustration on it but we'll see how it goes-)

Her mother called her mary, but she changed her name to tommy, she's a one, oh She went and joined the army, passed the medical Don't ask me how it's done They sent her to the front line Fighting for her country's name

2. How your character sees themselves: Sun Bleached Flies

God loves you, but not enough to save you So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself So I said fine, 'cause that's how my daddy raised me If they strike once then you just hit 'em twice as hard But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far

3. How others view them: Eternal Life

And as your fantasies are broken in two Did you really think this bloody road would pave the way for you? You better turn around and blow your kiss hello to life eternal

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic): Shoulders

They found you in the morning The blood was on your shoulders They found you at the corner Your head was doubled over And the blood of the man who killed my mother with his hands Is in me, It's in me In my veins

5. A major fight scene: Barrel of a Gun

What do you expect of me What is it you want? Whatever you've planned for me I'm not the one A vicious appetite Visits me each night And won't be satisfied Won't be denied An unbearable pain A beating in my brain That leaves the mark of Cain Right here inside

6. End credits song: A Lot's Gonna Change

A lot's gonna change In your lifetime Try to leave it all behind In your lifetime Born in a century lost to memories Falling trees, get off your knees No one can keep you down If your friends and your family Sadly don't stick around It's high time you'll learn to get by

Tagging: @fruitssalad @organovore @applesaturn (sorry if you've already been tagged!!)

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi! First of all i want to thank to you for being a real and honest people. Nowadays, like all areas psychology has some popular social media personas which doesn't feel sincere and most importantly real. But your approach is admirable.

I'm an intj, 24, female. I'm not even sure asking such questions to you would be a good idea. But i thought "why not" so please excuse me if i'm wasting your time. It's a classical childhood trauma which it doesn't heal. I got bullied about my physical appearance several times when i was a child. I called ugly mostly and even a girl from my class told me that i should've work twice cause i'm ugly. Now it's all passed but the feeling it's still there.

Actually my real problem's about what's gonna happen if i have a relationship because no matter what i don't feel beautiful. Sometimes some of my friends or a guy who is trying to hit me calls me beautiful and thinks like that. But i feel like if i would accept that everyone would laugh at me. Everyone's lying cause i am ugly. That's the truth. Of course this isn't a healthy though i know but i can't get rid of that feeling no matter what i did. If i would turn into a super model nothing would change inside me so this proves that my thought's aren't healthy and something's wrong.

I only ask because I'm afraid if i would love someone in the future i couldn't have a healthy relationship. This really bothers me. Thanks for even my question was useless to ask to you and stole your precious time.

----------------------

1) I think you've made a great point about social media personas. The self-help business is big business because it speaks to people's deepest suffering. Unfortunately, it is easier to manipulate and exploit vulnerable people, so there are lots of charlatans out there looking to take advantage. That's why I avoid social media and always prefer to learn from the recognized experts in a field.

Nowadays, we are all flooded with so much information, so it's more important than ever to be careful about who you listen to and whether you're getting the right information, especially when it's about your psychological health and well-being. An important part of nurturing a healthy spirit is feeding it a healthy "diet" that promotes personal growth, which means avoiding people who would feed you false or biased information.

2) Bullying is defined as forceful behavior that serves the purpose of dominating or intimidating people. The experience of repetitive bullying is a recognized form of psychological trauma because it damages your sense of dignity, making you believe your existence is insignificant. A bully's greatest success is when you learn to bully yourself with their words. They don't even have to be present anymore because you're doing all their work for them through voluntarily putting yourself down and punching out your own spirit.

When you experience trauma as a child, you don't have the intellectual capacity to make sense of it, so it's as though your mind gets stuck in that period of time. As a result of not being able to move forward in psychological development, childhood victims of bullying are much more likely to suffer mental health issues like depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem as adults. They don't know how to escape the perspective of victim, often feeling fearful, helpless, powerless, or hopeless.

Children have the wonderful qualities of being open, sincere, and trusting because they need to learn about the world quickly. Thus, they easily believe everything they are told. But every coin has two sides. Being trusting makes them more susceptible to manipulation by irresponsible actors. You're 24 and still believe what you were told about your physical attractiveness as a child. As an adult, you should now have the intellectual capacity to think more critically about your beliefs and values. And you should be able to develop the independence of mind to choose beliefs and values that are more aligned with the truth.

You now see there is something wrong in your thinking because you've realized it didn't originate from you. Good. Are you capable of changing your thinking? INTJs tend to be intellectual creatures, so perhaps you should start by doing a careful examination and analysis of the concept of beauty, to counter the beliefs your bullies instilled in you. E.g. What is beauty and how is it defined? What is the true purpose of labeling things "beautiful" or "ugly"? Who gets to define what is beautiful, and why? What are your beliefs about beauty and where did they come from? Do you need to change your beliefs to be better aligned with the truth? How would changing your beliefs also change your attitude and behavior?

3) Changing your ideas about beauty can help you be more rational in your judgments about it. However, this doesn't erase your memories of the past. Memories plague us because of their painful emotional content. When the emotional trauma is too intense, it is advisable to work in a safe environment with a therapist to guide you.

You shouldn't want to get rid of your memories because those experiences are necessary for your personal identity and psychological growth. You can learn to look upon past experiences differently, from a bigger perspective. Big picture thinking should come naturally to Ni doms. By making better sense of what happened and putting those experiences in the right perspective, you can eventually come to weaken or neutralize the negative emotions.

Imagine that you were walking down the street and you saw someone yelling at a small child, calling them "ugly" and all sorts of vulgar names. The child is crying quietly but cannot get away. Would your first instinct be to join the bully in berating the child? Or would you feel a strong desire to protect the child from harm? If you have any humanity, you would not hesitate to conclude that treating the child this way is morally wrong and should be stopped as soon as possible. If you had the capacity to stop the bully and speak to the child, what would you say to them? How would you help them?

Now, imagine that the child is you. Do you believe that you deserved the bullying? Do you believe that your bully cared about you and was telling the truth about you, or were they just trying to destroy your dignity and dominate you for their own purposes?

To put traumatic childhood experiences in the right perspective, you have to be able to transcend the perspective of the innocent child and adopt the vantage point of a wiser adult. Instead of looking upon the situation through the eyes of the helpless victim you were then, you can now look upon it as someone with the power to help and stop the victimization. Look upon that child with empathy and compassion, and you may start to see how beautiful the child actually is and how much they deserve to be loved after what they've been through.

Being granted the strengths of Te-Fi, healthy TJs are generally fearless and formidable people. They don't fear making mistakes, because they are confident in their ability to recover and learn from them. They don't succumb to control, because they form their own beliefs and do what they want. They don't need to be told what is right, because they follow their own moral code. They don't wait around for a hero, because they know how to be their own hero. This power already lies within you, but you have to change your perspective on yourself in order to release it.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Any memorable (as in you still remember them 😅) quotes from books you've read this past year?

I'm just gonna share THE QUOTE from Dead Souls. I encountered this passage while reading criticism several years ago and it actually put me off reading the book because I was certain that my expectations were too high and it could never live up to them. I was so very wrong! Here's the troika passage, and it's even better in context 😁

And what Russian is there who doesn’t love fast driving? How should his soul, which yearns to go off into a whirl, to go off on a fling, to say on occasion: “Devil take it all!”—how should his soul fail to love it? Is it not a thing to be loved, when one can sense in it something exaltedly wondrous? Some unseen power, it seems, has caught you up on its wing, and you’re flying yourself, and all things else are flying: the milestones are flying, some merchants are flying toward you, perched on the front seats of their covered carts; the forest flies on both sides of the road with its dark rows of firs and pines, echoing with the ring of axes and the cawing of crows; the whole road is flying none knows whither into the disappearing distance; and there is something fearsome hidden in the very flashing by of objects, so rapid that there’s no time for each one to become defined before it disappears; only the sky in the infinity above and the light clouds and the moon breaking through these clouds seem motionless.

Eh, thou troika, thou that art a bird! Who conceived thee? Methinks’tis only among a spirited folk that thou couldst have come into being, in that land that is not fond of doing things by halves, but that has evenly, smoothly spread itself out over half the world; therefore, try and count its milestones until they turn to spots before the eyes! And far from cunningly contrived is the vehicle the troika draws; held together with no screws of iron art thou, but hastily, with a slam and a bang, wert thou put together and fitted out by some handy muzhik of Iaroslavl, with nothing but an ax and a chisel. No fancy Hessian jackboots does thy driver wear, he sports a beard and great gauntlets and sits on the Devil knows what for a cushion, but let him rise in his seat, and swing his whip back, and strike up a long-drawn song—and his steeds are off like a whirlwind, the spokes of each wheel have blended into one unbroken disk; the road merely quivers, and a passerby on foot, stopping short, cries out in fright, and the troika is soaring, soaring, soaring away! . .. And now all one can see, already far in the distance, is something raising the dust and swirling through the air.

And art not thou, my Russia, soaring along even like a spirited, never-to-be-outdistanced troika? The road actually smokes under thee, the bridges thunder, everything falls back and is left behind thee! The witness of thy passing comes to a dead stop, dumfounded by this Gods wonder! Is it not a streak of lightning cast down from heaven? What signifies this onrush that inspires terror? And what unknown power is contained in these steeds, whose like is not known in this world? Ah, these steeds, these steeds, what steeds they are! Are there whirlwinds perched upon your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Ye have caught the familiar song coming down to you from above, and all as one, and all at the same instant, ye have strained your brazen chests and, almost without touching earth with your hoofs, ye have become all transformed into straight lines cleaving the air, and the troika tears along, all-inspired by God! . . . Whither art thou soaring away to, then, Russia? Give me thy answer! But Russia gives none. With a wondrous ring does the jingle bell trill; the air, rent to shreds, thunders and turns to wind; all things on earth fly past, and eyeing it askance, all the other peoples and nations stand aside and give it the right of way.

[byersbootyshorts]

hey there! I'm litch obsessed with your writing, could I poss request some sub!jonathan? maybe like a slightly more experienced reader taking his virginity or smth

…Stays In The Darkroom

Read Part 1 first

Summary: After getting a taste of Jonathan you can't get enough. And this time you go all the way.

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x fem!reader

Warnings: sub!Jonathan, dom!reader, some really unholy smut

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: If you haven’t read part 1 read it before you read this. I kind of combined this request and the request from part 1 because they’re pretty similar. Anyways, enjoy this you filthy animals.

You spent the entire weekend thinking about Jonathan and what happened the other day. His whimpering moans filled your dreams and your mind constantly wandered to what you might do to him next.

When Monday finally arrived you practically leapt out of bed. You could hardly wait until the final bell so you could head back to the darkroom and make all the fantasies you’d had in the last few days a reality.

By only third period you could hardly bare it. You still had hours until school ended and Mrs Click’s mindless droning wasn’t making the day go any faster. Suddenly you had an idea.

Lucky for you Jonathan sat in front of you this class. You quickly ripped a piece of paper from your notebook and wrote.

‘Meet me in the darkroom. Lunchtime.’

You tapped his shoulder, a smirk plastered on your face. He turned around with a confused expression and you handed him the note. He read it quickly and raised his eyebrows. He looked back up at you, nodded timidly and turned to face the front again. You could tell by the way his shoulders rose and fell at a faster pace that his breathing had quickened.

You struggled your way through your next lesson. Your leg bounced as you grew more and more impatient. Until finally the lunch bell rang. You told your friends to go on without you as you passed the darkroom.

‘I just need to check some photos I took last week,’ you lied.

So, they walked to the cafeteria without you, leaving you in front of the oh so familiar door.

When the hallway cleared you quickly composed yourself before turning the doorknob and entering the room. Jonathan was already there leaning lazily against the wall but the minute he saw you he straightened up. Neither of you said a word.

You slowly walked up to him until your lips were millimetres apart. You placed a hand on the wall behind him and stared deeply into his eyes.

‘Are you just gonna stand there like a little bitch or are you gonna kiss me, Byers?’ you said after Jonathan had gawked at you for a minute. He swallowed hard before leaning forward, closing the gap between your mouths. You sighed hungrily into the kiss. Jonathan took less time loosening up than he had previously, almost instantly turning to putty in your grasp.

You pressed your other hand on the wall on the other side of his head, trapping him between the concrete and your body. This time he was more confident with his hands, placing them around your waist with little hesitation.

He even kissed you better. His tongue moved in motion with yours as your mouths became familiar.

‘Good boy. You’re getting better at this,’ you told him as you pulled away.

You could feel the bulge already in his pants swell even more when you praised him.

You looked at his neck, the red marks you’d left on it last time were now tiny pink spots. That would never do. You gently traced along them with your tongue, replacing each one with another dark mark as you went. You let your hands play carelessly with his hair, earning low moans from Jonathan. When you reached the collar of his shirt you didn’t let that stop you.

‘Take your shirt off,’ you instructed. Jonathan still didn’t say anything. He had his usual look of shock for a moment before doing exactly as you asked. He ripped his shirt off to reveal a surprisingly toned body. While he had no abs his stomach was tight and defined.

With this obstacle out of the way you continued down his body, leaving a trail of bright red marks that led from his jaw, down his neck to his chest. You loved the way Jonathan writhed when you reached his lower stomach. Your hands, which were placed on his waist, made their way to the bugle in his jeans. You rubbed his cock over the material as you sucked his stomach. His needy whines made you rub harder.

His hands were shaking and eventually made their way to your hair. You stopped what you were doing, got up and grabbed Jonathan’s hands.

‘You don’t get to do that,’ you said. ‘Only I get to do that.’

‘Sorry,’ Jonathan whispered.

‘You better be.’ You took Jonathan’s hands and placed them above his head.

‘These stay here from now on. Understand?’ you asked.

Jonathan nodded his head violently.

‘I said, do you understand?’ you repeated.

‘Y- yes, I understand,’ he stuttered.

‘Good.’

You knelt back down, returning to where you were. As you kissed his stomach you quickly undid his belt. You could feel Jonathan’s excitement as you freed his hard cock from his tight jeans. When you pulled down his pants he sighed shakily at the relief.

You stroked the base of his dick, looking up to make sure his hands were still where you left them.

When you were satisfied he’d obeyed you you turned your attention back to his cock. It was level with your mouth. Exactly where you wanted it. You leaned in and licked where you had been stroking. Your hot breath made Jonathan to shudder and whimper.

Then, you took his cock in your mouth, carefully moving your head back and forth at a quickening pace. Jonathan swore and whined your name as became closer to cumming. You could feel his legs shaking so you grabbed his thighs. Your nails dug into his flesh, driving him crazy.

‘I, shit, I’m gonna, fuck, cum already,’ he moaned.

And that was your cue.

You pulled away from his twitching dick and got up off your knees.

‘W-what?’ was all Jonathan could say.

‘Remember I told you I wouldn’t be so forgiving next time?’ you said, wiping your mouth with your thumb. ‘That’s what you get when you cum before I tell you to.’

‘But-,’ Jonathan whined.

‘No buts, Byers. You did this to yourself.’

Jonathan’s head fell as he wondered how the hell he was going to get his pants back up when he was one stroke away from cumming.

‘Hey, chin up, sweetheart. I’ll be back later,’ you winked, throwing him his shirt as you dashed out of the room, back into the busy hallway.

You just about got through the rest of the day. Although you didn’t learn much; imagining Jonathan still pinned up against the wall occupied most of your thoughts. But, at last, the school day ended. You took your time saying goodbye to your friends. You wanted to leave Jonathan waiting for as long as you could bear. But eventually you made your way back to the darkroom.

When you walked in, once again, Jonathan was already there, except this time he wasn’t doing something as simple as leaning against the wall.

Jonathan sat on one of the tables, leaning back, head lulled backwards. One hand pressed against the table for support, the other was wrapped around his dick. And he didn’t stop when he saw you enter the room.

‘You little slut,’ you laughed, locking the door behind you and walking over to him. ‘You really couldn’t wait a couple of hours, could you?’

You grabbed the hand that was on his dick and pulled it away.

‘And what did I say about these hands?’ you asked.

Jonathan obediently raised his hands above his head.

‘Good boy.’

You could tell he was itching for you to touch him. You replaced where his hand had been on his dick with yours and asked.

‘Since you’re such a horny slut why don’t you tell me what you want me to do to you?’

Jonathan took a few deep breaths. Your dominance over him was enough to make him cum right then and there.

‘Touch me,’ he breathed.

‘Well, I’m doing that, aren’t I?’ you said, pulling slightly harder on his dick. ‘Come on, Jonathan. I know you can do better than that.’

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out.

‘Speak up, Byers. I can’t hear you.’

‘I want you to fuck me,’ he whined painfully. ‘I want you on top of me. I want you to make me cum.’

His sudden begging surprised you. His needy, whiney voice made your heart rate quicken and your underwear wet.

‘That’s my little whore. I knew you had it in you.’

You pulled off his shirt for the second time that day, admiring the handiwork you’d left earlier.

Jonathan’s pants were already at his ankles but you pulled them off entirely, leaving him completely naked in front of you.

You grabbed his neck and pushed him down onto the table. You straddled him, placing yourself at the bottom of his stomach. Your slick underwear dampened his skin.

Leaning down so your face was above his you whispered.

‘You ever been fucked before, Byers?’

Jonathan shook his head vigorously.

‘But you wanna be fucked?’

‘Yes, god, please,’ he whined.

You were thankful you’d worn a skirt that day as you easily slipped off your underwear. Then you pulled your shirt off. Jonathan’s breath hitched as he looked up at your body. His hands lightly rested on your thighs and you sighed in annoyance.

‘Seriously, how many times, Jonathan?’ you moved his hands back to where you loved them most- above his head- and jumped off of him. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat as you walked over to your bag.

‘Calm down,’ you said, riffling through your bag. ‘I’m just looking for- ah, here it is.’

You pulled the spare neck strap you had for your camera out from your bag and walked back over to Jonathan.

‘What’s that for?’ he asked, not daring to move.

‘Well, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I’m going to have to help you.’

You climbed back on top of him and shifted your weight forward so your covered breasts hung just above Jonathan’s face and used the strap to restrain his hands.

‘That’s better.’ You sat back again. Jonathan’s eyes were still locked on your tits.

When you noticed this, you quickly undid the clasp of your bra and removed it. Jonathan’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his skull and his mouth hung open.

‘Seriously, Jonathan, control yourself.’ You pulled his chin up until his eyes met yours. ‘I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty slut you are.’

You carefully positioned yourself above his aching dick. Jonathan gazed up at you, a pleading look on his face. Gradually, you lowered yourself down until you bottomed out, letting out a soft moan.

‘F-fuck,’ Jonathan groaned.

You sat there for a minute, staring down at Jonathan’s watering eyes as you adjusted.

‘Feels good, doesn’t it,’ you said. ‘It feels good having me sit on top of you with your hands tied up and your dick in me.’

‘Mmh, yes, feels good. Want more,’ Jonathan struggled to get the words out.

At his words you began riding him, your pussy tightening around him as you moved up and down.

Jonathan blurted out a string of swears as you found your rhythm. His hands twitched in their restraints, begging to touch you. When you found a steady rhythm you leaned down, placing a hand on either side of Jonathan’s head to steady yourself. He stared up into your eyes with furrowed brows. You could taste the coffee on his breath as his breathing changed from fast to ragged.

‘You’re so good just lying here and taking me,’ you praised. ‘Think you can take some more?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, fuck, yes please.’

You slowly started to quicken your pace, causing Jonathan’s hips to jut violently upwards.

‘Uh, uh.’ You placed a hand on his neck to keep him down. His face flushed. ‘You should be thankful I’m doing all the work.’

You continued moving up and down on his dick, each thrust got sloppier as you came close to finishing. Jonathan still laid beneath you, a tear now trickling down his cheek as you choked him harder.

‘I’m gonna-,’

‘No,’ you interrupted, pressing your finger against his lips. ‘No, you’re not.’ You gave him a stern look.

Jonathan closed his eyes in concentration as he tried to hold off. Another tear fell from his glazed over eyes and he made a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a sob. His screams echoed throughout the small, dimly-lit room. You should’ve told him to shut up- you were still in school after all- but the noises Jonathan was making were too beautiful to stop. You too allowed breathy moans to escape you as you rode him roughly.

The combination of you choking him and his overwhelming need for release made Jonathan almost black out. His eyes nearly rolled back so you loosened your grip around his neck.

‘Please, shit, please let me cum. I’ve done everything you asked. Please, I can’t-.’ Jonathan’s slim body shook intensely beneath you. His weak begging only brought you closer to your own climax.

‘I guess you’ve been a good little whore for me,’ you flicked a piece of his hair from his eye. ‘Go on then.’

You rolled your body as hard as you could as you felt Jonathan cum inside you. He whined your name needily between sobs of pleasure. The feeling of his cum filling you up made you moan as you too reached your climax. You planted your hands on his shoulders, making marks in his skin as you fucked him senseless.

‘Good boy, yes, that’s it,’ you panted.

Cum spilled out between your legs, pooling on Jonathan’s stomach. His chest moved up and down vigorously as you rode out your orgasm. Eventually, you slowed down until you came to a stop.

‘Well, shit, Byers,’ you said, still sitting on his dick. ‘Not bad for a first try.’

You carefully untied his restraints, freeing his hands. But he kept them there above his head. Too fucked out to move.

Your legs were shaking from exhaustion but you pulled yourself off him. You quickly pulled your shirt back on and packed the rest of your stuff in your bag. When you were finished Jonathan was still frozen in place, although the rise and fall of his chest was less rapid. You grabbed a tissue from your bag and wiped the cum from his stomach, placing a kiss on his chest as you did so.

Before you could straighten up again Jonathan grabbed your arm and pulled you in. He crashed his lips against yours briefly before pulling away, an askant look in his eyes.

‘Same time tomorrow?’ he asked. His voice was raspy from screaming, his eyes irresistibly wide. You chuckled grabbing his pants from the floor.

‘That’s my good little slut.’ You threw him the rest of his clothes and without saying another word you carefully unlocked the door and left.

All you could think about was what else you could do to him tomorrow.

[voiddrop]

❝  don’t be ridiculous,  there’s enough room on this bed for both of us. ❞  for the Stay scenario. Adrian Chase. 😊

In A Shitty Motel Room...

Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Tags: Only one bed trope, fluff, kissing, sharing a bed, Adrian being Adrian, cursing, nothing there's just fluff - like this is all fluff.

Summary: When the 11th Street Kids stop at a motel on the way back from a mission, you find yourself sharing a room with Adrian. That would be all fine, if it weren't for the fact there's only one bed.

Word Count: 1.3k

Gif belongs to dcmultiverse

Notes: A big thank you to Shan (@bvcksmurdock) for proofreading this for me when I just couldn't be assed to look at it any longer, this fic got rewritten twice because for some reason it just wouldn't play nice, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy.

You really hadn’t expected much from the shitty motel your team had managed to find, and you were right not to. When you managed to shoulder open the door, Adrian talking your ear off, you were met with a very dismal sight. The carpet was a mix of orange and blues, crossing in geometric patterns, stained from years of god-knows-what; and the walls were no better off, beige wallpaper that was peeling in several places, though calling the wallpaper beige was being generous, it had been yellowed from years of cigarette smoke and neglect. There was a door that hung open, showing a dismally small bathroom with just enough space for a sink, toilet, and shower. An ancient TV sat atop an even older stand against a wall, with a lumpy couch across from it. The defining feature of the room was the bed. The bed.

Singular.

“Oh, fuck me,” You mutter, glaring at the offending piece of furniture. The smug look on Leota’s face as she handed you the key made so much sense now. No doubt she and Emilia had schemed together to get you and Adrian in the only room with a single bed - because you found it incredibly un-fucking-likely that John and Chris were spooning right now. Those two had been teasing you about your growing crush on Adrian for the past few weeks.

“I mean, we can, if you want to?” Adrian said, breaking you from your train of thought. He’d already set his bag down on the single bed - you still weren’t over that - and had turned to give you an eager look. “I’d like to- I’d really like to actually, I mean you’re hot, really hot, incredibly hot, so it won’t be the first time I’ve thought about-”

“Adrian!” You bark, cutting him off and trying to stop your poor face from growing any warmer, “I wasn’t being- it was an expression, I was being sarcastic.” His face fell, his previous eager look replaced by what looked like disappointment as he stared at you.

“Oh, well you should tell people before you’re going to be sarcastic so there’s no confusion.”

You nod slowly, turning to walk towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna go shower,” You mutter quickly, desperate to get out of the situation and avoid dealing with this for a few extra minutes. Really, you were just putting off the inevitable.

The motel didn’t have the budget for hot water - no surprise there - so the shower was cold, it did its job regardless and you were able to wash off the blood, grime, and dirt clinging to your skin. You finished your shower quickly, drying off and changing into the spare clothes you’d brought in your bag.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and walked back out into the bedroom, passing Adrian as he slipped past to get cleaned up himself. His bag was still on the bed, so you decided to claim the couch for the night. It wasn’t comfy at all, but you’ve slept in worse conditions. Sprawling out on the couch, you can feel old springs digging into your back but you shift around until you’re comfortable and listen. The sound of the shower stops and in the silence of the room you can hear as Adrian steps out, humming to himself.

Several minutes later, the door opens once more and Adrian comes back in, only to pause several steps into the room. “Uh, what are you doing?” You crane your head at his question, catching sight of him stood there in a loose white top and grey sweatpants.

“Trying to go to sleep?”

“On the couch? Why?” Adrian asked, moving over to the bed to grab his bag and dump it on the floor.

You stare at him. He stares right back. “Because… you’ve claimed the bed?” You respond slowly, trying to figure out what Adrian could possibly be implying. Surely he didn’t want to share the bed with you, did he? No, that was just the ridiculous, childish crush you had on him speaking. That was all.

Yet, despite your attempts to tell yourself that, Adrian laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s enough room on this bed for both of us,” He said, pulling back the covers and claiming in. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, beating so hard it was at risk of jumping right out and running away. You swallowed thickly as you pushed yourself up, stiffly making your way over to the bed.

Slowly, you crawled into the space next to Adrian on the bed. There was barely any room between you. Despite the cold shower he had just taken, warmth still rolled off of Adrian’s skin, and you were close enough to feel it as you lay there. “See, I told you there was enough room,” Adria chirped, sounding very happy.

“Yeah, guess there is,” You murmured, turning over to lay with your back to him and try to calm your racing heart. This was no big deal, you’d slept in close proximity to Adrian before, and you trusted him not to be a creep. It was fine. Totally fine. ”Good night, Adrian.”

“Night,” Adrian replied, wriggling around to get comfortable behind you. The room fell silent and for a moment you thought you might actually get some sleep, only to pause as Adrian brushed closer. He whispered your name and asked, “Are you cold?”

“What?”

“You’re shivering.” Huh, so you were. You hadn’t noticed until that point, so focused on trying not to combust at the fact you were sharing a bed with Adrian, but the bedsheets were pitifully thin, paired with your cold shower, well… You were left shivering slightly, goosebumps covering your arms and legs.

You sighed, trying to curl up into yourself and press deeper into the bed. “Guess I am, sorry,” You murmured, only to squeak as Adrian shifted closer. His warm body pressing against your back, the weight of his arm curling around your waist.

“Don’t apologise, here, I’m warm,” He hummed, pulling you back against him and suddenly he was everywhere. Smelling like the sandalwood deodorant he used excessively, and the green apple shampoo he’d been using since he was a teenager. “They always cuddle for warmth in movies right? I watched one just the other day, it was about this man and woman who got stranded in the wilderness, and-” You turned around in his arms, cutting off his ramble as you tilted your head to look up at him, “-oh, hi!” He chirped, smiling down at you.

You stared at him, at his dimples, his bright smile, that curly hair; and finally, you felt something in you shift, urging you to reach up and place a hand against his cheek. “Hey, Adrian.” Your voice hung softly in the air between you. “Can I kiss you?” You weren’t sure where this confidence had come from, and it vanished as soon as it arrived. Just saying the words made you want to throw up from nervousness.

Adrian’s eyes widened. “Is this more sarcasm?” He asked.

“No, no sarcasm.”

“Oh,” Adrian gaped, “then fuck yes, absolutely, you can kiss me whenever you want. I would love it if you kissed me all the time, actually, because I think about kissing you all the time, but Chris says that’s weird. Is that weird?” You don’t answer him, just surge up to press your mouth over his. Adrian makes a sound in the back of his throat, his arm around you tightening, pulling you closer. You sigh and he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He still tasted like the mint gum he’d been chewing in John’s van earlier.

As you push him onto his back and nibble on his bottom lip, adoring the way he whines, you make a mental note to thank Leota and Emilia tomorrow.

[teenandbeyond]

I just had an idea. Senku x fem reader where they play strip poker together and it ends in smut 👀

Senku x Fem. Reader

I actually had this idea forever ago and forgot about it, you made me want to dig it up. Edit: Gender isn't really specified, so anyone could read.

Want more from me? Master List 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧪Strip Tease🧪 (Dr. Stone)

Warning(s): Old Writing(didn't edit, idk what this is), never played poker ever, Smut, idk really, childhood friends till adulthood changed things

When you practice strip poker with Senku...it turns into you practicing other things...

✨✨✨✨

“Did you really need me to practice with you?” Senku grumbled from his seat.

“Well, I needed someone who wouldn’t care. I could’ve asked Taiju, but he likes Yuzuriha so I’m not even gonna bother him with that. That left you.”

“Don’t you have those other lame friends?”

You muttered a reply as you got out the cards to shuffle them, “Exactly, lame. They pretend when it’s convenient. Since I’m playing with them tomorrow anyway, I might as well learn how beforehand-- Besides, they’re either desperate to see me naked or would be too embarrassed, I’d probably leave early.”

“I don’t see the problem with it. It’s just being naked.”

Your eyes finally flickered up to him, “Exactly why I picked you—What’re you risking first?”

“You know the rules?”

“Mhm. Choose.”

“Watch.”

You dealt five cards for each of you, “I pick my jacket. Winner doesn’t have to remove anything.”

You kept your five cards, while Senku decided to exchange two from his hand.

“You sure you don’t want to exchange any cards?” he smirked.

“I got a pretty good deal, so I’m good.”

“Alright then, hit me.”

With a victrious grin you smack down your hand, “Flush. Beat that!”

His smirk didn’t drop as he carelessly tossed his hand onto the table, “Four of a Kind.”

“Wha—”

“Don’t you have a jacket to get rid of, [Name]?”

You sighed, slowly taking it off, “Yeah, yeah. All right, let’s try this again…”

You dealt the next hand, Senku simply exchanged one card.

Feeling betrayed from last time, you decided to exchange two cards.

“I doubt you’re going to win this time, so I’ll bet my shirt,” Senku held his poker face.

But unfortunately for him, you had a very good hand.

“I’ll bet my shirt, too. Go for it, Senku.”

“Three of a Kind.”

A chuckle bubbled from you, “Straight.”

He sighed, dejected and began to unbutton his shirt.

You found yourself watching in anticipation as the last button was undone, swallowing as it rolled off his shoulders and to back of his seat.

He was actually much more defined than you anticipated, considering he seemed like a weakling most of the time.

“...[Name].”

You must have zoned out, “I—Uh—Huh?”

He raised a brow, “Are you dealing, or what?”

“Oh…Oh! Right…”

You did your best to avoid looking, so you wouldn’t find yourself staring again.

“I'll bet my watch,” Senku leaned back to watch you.

You tried to not notice the way he unconsciously spread his legs, fortunately the table blocked most of the view.

“My shirt again,” you informed.

After dealing, you showed your hands again.

He’d won this round.

Now that it was reality, you were a little flustered at the idea of being half naked in front of him.

Mainly due to the little, itty-bitty, tiny, minuscule crush you had on him.

That was actually far from any of those things.

Then you reminded yourself, Senku doesn’t think anything of it.

He wouldn’t be attracted, so it didn’t matter, right?

You took a deep breath as your played with the hem of your shirt, before tugging it over your head.

It was a shame you missed his expression while your vision was obstructed.

“…Looks like you’re losing.”

You scoffed, “Please, we just started. You may be a science wiz, but games are my territory.”

“Watch.”

“Pants.”

You had a great hand, so great there was no way Senku had the only hand that could beat it.

“You’re done for, Senku!”

“Straight Flush? Not bad.”

Your brows furrowed, “Why don’t you seem worried?”

A cackle passed his lips, which made your eyes go wide.

“There’s no way!”

He tossed his hand onto the table top, a dark smirk taking over his expression, “What was that about games being your territory, [Name]? Because I just won this, Ten Billion percent.”

A Royal Flush.

Your body warmed in embarrassment as your eyes flickered down to your pants.

You’d have to take them off in front of Senku.

“Rules are rules…”

You dragged the pants down your legs and tossed them to the side where your shirt laid.

Now you felt a little embarrassed for your underwear choices, since it was only you who saw what you wore, you tended to wear really cute sets.

But when your gaze trailed from your thighs to the man in front of you…you were caught by his stare.

Why was it so intense?

Why was is so quiet?

Why couldn’t you... look away?

And why…why was it affecting your body?

“[Name].”

The sudden deepening of his voice sent a jolt through you.

“Yes?”

“You know, considering I got the best hand anyone could possibly get…don’t you think it qualifies for the rest of your clothing, too?”

“Uh—Huh? But I’d be n-naked…”

“Isn’t that the point?—What happened to not caring?”

Well, it’s hard not to care when he’s looking at you like that.

“I—well…”

“[Name]…are you nervous?” he teased.

You decided to hide your face, and hide your top half using the table considering the view he had wasn’t great under it.

But he simply just pushed the table to the side, the dragging of the table legs morbidly dramatic to you.

“What’re you hiding for? It’s not a big deal.”

In replacement, you placed your feet in the chair, using your legs to hide a little.

But that only made things worse, his gaze dragged lower and lower before they focused in between your legs.

His expression was one of amusement, while yours was more timid…now he knew everything.

He leaned back in his chair far too casually again, legs yet again spreading unconsciously.

Or perhaps it was intentional this time, you didn’t know.

He leaned his head on his knuckles, silver watch shining due to the light above.

“I haven’t touched you yet and you already gave me a visible reaction.”

Your body warmed more, but most of it was more focused in one area.

“Yet…?”

“I must admit, I came with pure intentions, but I don’t think I’m leaving the same way I came.”

Gloved hands teased you everywhere they went.

“You’re like a little science experiment,” he chuckled.

You were completely breathless, “Sen—kah!”

“I had a few hypotheses to test. They seem to be going well so far.”

The black gloves touched every inch of skin he could as you sat on his spread legs.

The contrast of his black slacks and latex gloves gave you butterflies.

“Why did you have to be a scientist?” you groaned.

He knew all the right places, curse those books, curse the internet.

Then his fingers, finally, finally touched you where you wanted.

He rubbed against the damp cloth, “We should take these off, hm?”

You swore his voice right in your ear was affecting you in an entirely different way.

“We should.”

A gasp, as he tears away a glove to please you with bare skin.

Eyes rolling back as he’s pounding you into the table a few minutes later.

A whimper as his gloved hand explores your back and trails to your behind.

Your voice cracks, as you cheek rubs against the surface, the last card clinging to the table finally fluttering to the floor.

“Been wanting to do this so long,” was all he could grit out, “You’ve got me thinking all irrationally for you…”

Muttering praises in between his thrusts, mumbling how you’re such a good test subject.

And, oh, how beautiful you were, how cute, which tempted him to turn you around and kiss you.

It was so intense, so careful, and there seemed to possibly even be love there.

“Senku…”

“You’re not playing this game with them tomorrow. Not that’d you’d be able to walk anywhere far tomorrow, anyway…”

[rcksmith]

Rules — Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Your works is incredibly good, masterpiece. Can you please smut with Kaz Brekker and prompts 34, 37, 47? Using your rules, they are wonderful. I will really wait))”

“could u do #39 with kaz???ignore if ur not comfortable with this!!”

“Hello, just binge read your kaz brekker smuts and they are amazing! Was wondering if you could do something with smut prompts 34,84,&72?”

Smut prompts:

34. “You’d better watch your fucking mouth.”

37. “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

“39. “You keep acting like a little brat and I’ll take you over my knee right here, I don’t care how many people are watching.”

47. “You look so good on your knees like that.”

72. “Fuck you.” 1. “I’m up for it if you are.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, NSFW,explicit heavy smut, dirty talk, dom!Kaz.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are closed. Love you❤️

— — — —

There were two types of people in the world. The dangerous ones, with whom shouldn't play or challenge, people who are able to see and set your soul on fire with a single look, who exude power and domination with the way they walk. And there were people who loved to play with danger, with fire. People who felt the adrenaline pump in their veins and loved the feeling of being messing with something forbidden. Overcoming limits, challenging people on power.

Kaz Brekker was the first type of person. And you were second.

He was intimidating, dark and dangerous. An aura of mystery adored him like an underworld selvedge, and his caustic and intense gaze could very well be bought from what Lucifer cast around the world after The Fall. It was amazing how he hadn't left a trail of rubble where that gaze passed. People feared him, obeyed him, responded to his orders with astonishing precision. Everyone, but not you.

The surest comparison to define you would be to buy Jesper. Both with social personality, adrenaline addiction and seduction in their eyes. But you were a little more than that. More impulsive, more reckless, and more provocative. While Jesper knew all too well when to step back and keep your mouth shut, you refused to bow to Dirty Hands. Not because it was proud, but because it was fun, thought-provoking. Addictive. Every cell in your body felt extremely alive when you are under Kaz Brekker's dominant, angry, and dangerous gaze. He giving you a clear warning that you were swimming in turbulent water, but you were just plunging deeper into his waves.

You wanted to push him to the edge, the exasperation, to see what was really underneath that cold face and serious. Kaz could very well be the boss of the famous gang you were part of, but his rank wasn't enough to stop you. Never would be.

"Frankly, I just don't care." You told Jesper and Nina in one night, downing a shot of vodka.

"What?!" She looked at you dumbfounded. "Kaz is your boss and you argued with him about his plan!"

Nina looked alarmed, but all you felt was adrenaline and pleasure.

“Because it was a nonsense plan and…”

“What nonsense plan?”

And there was Kaz. With his height and his black underworld clothes, with his Lucifer gaze and mouth made for sin. You wanted him to sin. But you wanted l him sin with you.

Jesper and Nina soon stuttered trying to make up an excuse, but you weren't given to lies.

“Yours, in this morning.” Jesper looked like he wanted to stick his head in the dirt after your comment.

Then, once again, that fervent gaze was upon you, and every pulse in your body frantically pumped blood through your veins.

“Don't think I didn't notice your inability to follow rules, Y/n.” It was a warning.

“Oh I don't have a problem following rules “You rested your chin in your palm, with your elbow on the table, and held his fervent gaze, “,but only when they make sense. So that's the only way I can be very obedient, Sir.”

You heard Nina gasp, but your eyes didn't leave Kaz's. There was much more to that look than met the world could see. There was war for control, battles and ferocity. Kaz Brekker wanted to break you in half in that eye contact, but you wouldn't budge because a look. If he wanted you on your knees, you would be very happy to do it, but it would have to be the right way.

Kaz leaned toward you, closer enough for no one else to hear what he was going to say but far enough away that his mouth wouldn't touch your ear.

"You keep acting like a little brat and I'll take you over my knee right here, I don't care how many people are watching."

After that, the sexual tension between the two of you was suffocating, so thick it could have been cut with a knife. But nobody did anything to placate it, and you two just let it get bigger. Bigger and bigger. Until it's too late.

And in one night, it was too late.

"I won't do this just because you want to!" You crossed your arms over your chest.

Kaz wanted you to kidnap one of a mobster's kids to act as security when making a deal, but you wasn't going to kidnap anyone.

“You work for me.”

“No, I work with you.” It was a lie, but you didn't budge. “Don't think I'm here for lack of choice, Brekker. You need me as a vital member of this team and don't forget we're on an equal footing.”

His blue eyes turned almost black. Kaz Brekker rose from his office desk.

“Do you really think you're going to tell me how to act? Think you're gonna boss me around? Well, I don't think so.” His speech was slow and hot and dangerous, like that of a hunter prowling his prey and contemplating how pathetic you attempts to fight were.

“I don't give a damn what you think.” Your whole body was throbbing with life in that moment, as if fireworks had exploded in your chest. “But I won't do what you're ordering.”

"Fuck you." His voice was a growl.

A spot between your legs vibrated, and you gripped the taunt tightly. "I'm up for it if you are."

That seemed to be the pinnacle. The air crackled, the world shuddered, and Kaz's eyes roared with the flames of hell. He walked towards your with three long, purposeful strides, grabbed your chin in his gloved hand and brought you close to his mouth like you were just a rag doll.

Your breath burned in lungs, your unrestrained heart grew stronger and your entire body shivered. A low moan caught in your throat, but you could feel the warm, pulsing liquid stain your panties.

"You’d better watch your fucking mouth." Kaz's voice was husky, strong and gruff, like a boss. Your boss.

Pleasure invaded your body like waves of electricity, stealing your breath and making your blood burn in veins like scalding lava. Your whole body vibrated, screamed, begged. You wanted to disobey and be dominated. You wanted to fight and be defeated. You wanted to play rebellious and be demoted to a good girl.

And your desires must have been very explicit and pleading in your eyes, because Kaz let his lips curve into a cocky, smug smile. The smile of someone who knows he has power.

"You are such a hypocrite." He brought his body close to your. "Saying you're not easily obedient, likes others to think you're provocative and rebellious, but you're just a needy kid wanting my attention."

You moaned this time. A broken and delivered sound that gave away your entire game.

"I'm not one of the men you can challenge and get along with."

"I didn't think you was." You tried to rescue the last spark of provocation, your last fire of insolence.

“And yet you test me. Because you know what I can do with you.”

His husky words hit your skin, and Kaz pulled your chin more closer, until your lips were able to swallow his words. “Because you know I can break you.”

The moan came loud this time, desperate and needy. Kaz hadn't even touched you properly and you already felt ready to combust.

“Y-yes.” But if you were desperate, Kaz was burning with dangerous fury.

“I'm so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

Then his hand slipped from your jaw and stuck to the silky hairs on the back of your neck, closing his fingers there and bringing you with him to the armchair Kaz had been sitting in seconds ago.

They weren't sweet, affectionate, or kind touches, but that wasn't what you were looking for. You wanted roughness, fury, raw and strength. You wanted something wild, wanted had marks on your body the other day to tell a story. You weren't a woman who settled for the basics and wanted someone able to show you what a real fuck was. You wanted to be broken. And Kaz Brekker could give you that.

He sat down in the leather armchair and pulled you to the floor, settling you on your knees on the floor between his long, masculine legs. The awareness of what was to come filled your mouth with water, with desire, with lust, and you found yourself already leaning your mouth closer and... Kaz pulled your hair back, not hard, but firmly, keeping you away from his dick. For a while.

“Are you so eager to get my dick yet?” His free hand, now ungloved, glided to your face, running his thumb across your cheek in a firm, possessive touch. “Of course you are. Greedy slut."

Then came a slap. It wasn't aggressive, but you could feel the heat on your cheek. Your panties have never been so wet as they are now.

“S-Sir f-fuck.”

It was a plea, a whimper or a moan, you didn't know anymore. All you could feel was your pussy throbbing, mouth salivating and the overwhelming desire to put his cock in your mouth. It all hit you so hard that you wanted to cry with the wait.

Kaz lowered his mouth to your, slamming their lips together in a rough, brutal, dictating kiss. He invaded with his tongue and conquered everything you had, rubbing the hot flesh of your tongue in an erotic, maddening dance.

"Let me show you what happens to little brats who don't follow the rules." It was his sentence after back away his lips from your.

Unbuttoning his black pants with one hand and pulling the waistband down along with the boxers, he released the throbbing cock that sprang out with glory and grandeur. Thick, streaked with veins and with a pink head swollen and leaking with pre-cum. Everything about Kaz Brekker was delicious. Your moan at the sight was an opportunity that wasn't passed up. Kaz pulled your head by the back of your neck toward his dick, sinking into the velvety, warm, wet cavity of your mouth.

You accepted it readily, almost in desperation, tasting its taste with his tongue and sucking on his head like your favorite lollipop. Kaz moaned loudly, letting his head fall back and loosening his grip on your hair. Your eyes lifted to him, and the sight made you clench your thighs to ease the arousal.

His broad chest covered by the black button-down shirt rose and fell faster, his smooth white neck was exposed, and his firm jaw was clenched with fury. Brekker looked like the god of the underworld. And you loved it.

Your mouth suck to his cock better, increasing the back and forth movements and leaving a trail of hot sage. One hand rested on Kaz's thigh while the other aided the movements, spreading all the saliva down the length of his cock.

“You look so good on your knees like that.” His voice was more of a growl, and his grip on your hair went back to being firm.

You brought your eyes up to his once more, batting your lashes gracefully as you let out a few broken moans, sliding your tongue across every inch of his warm skin you could reach. Kaz gritted his teeth with your puppy dog ​​eyes. Losing all control and letting out a loud growl mixed with an aggressive curse, he thrust your head at him, sinking his entire dick into your hot mouth and hitting the glans at the beginning of your throat.

You gasped and he moaned loudly, increasing the back and forth and building with the movements of his own hips, fucking your mouth like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"Fucking hell, what a velvet mouth!" He locked his teeth into his lower lip, using his free hand to slide his thumb across your cheek and give you a reward in the form of a small caress. "That's right, good girl."

You moaned, squinting your eyes and relaxing your throat. His compliment has done wonders for your feminine ego and your vanity, you've sunk your mouth down to touch the tip of your nose to his pelvis, and the grip on your hair has become rough as Kaz moaned loudly in a session of swearing and gasping.

He held you in that position, his whole body shaking with pleasure and despair, blood pumping like boiling lava through his saturated veins. With one last moan mixed with growl, he cum in your throat. In hot, strong jets, making sure you take every last drop. He tasted like salt, man and lust. And it was a miracle you didn't cum right away. The best liquid you've ever had.

Kaz released your hair with a hot gasp, and the hand on your cheek gently pulled you back. His dick came out of your mouth with a 'pop', saliva and tears mingled in your chin, your lips swollen and as red as roses at their apex.

You've never been so fucking delicious as you are now.

Brekker pulled you into his lap, settling you on his thigh and locking their mouths in a kiss permeated with lust and desire. You whimpered, body sensitive, pussy throbbing and throbbing. Your hands went to his hair as Brekker pulled the hem of your skirt up.

"Now, you're going to keep showing me how much you regret being insolent."

You smiled with teasing and malice. The night was just beginning.

[chubbology]

Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.  

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

[misstrashchan]

It's Rosegarden Week, and I'm not much of a artist or writer (to all the RG fic writers and fanartists out there I am blowing each of you a little kiss, thank you) so I'm just gonna gush about this ship instead:

Do you ever think about Rosegarden and it's potential to work within the overall story and Ruby's character arc? Because it's just. Ruby's just this incredibly kind and selfless heroic individual, almost to her own detriment in prioritising everyone else's emotions and wellbeing over her own. Her making sure everyone gets their happy ending is Ruby's happy ending. Essentially defining her sense of self in how much she can give or do for others. Not ever asking or wanting anything for herself.

Which is very admirable:

Blake: (laughing a little) And why is that? Hoping you'll live happily ever after?

Ruby: Well, I'm hoping we all will. As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!

Blake: That's... very ambitious for a child. (her smile turns into a frown) Unfortunately, the real world isn't the same as a fairy tale.

Ruby: Well, that's why we're here! To make it better. (1x03)

Yang: I'm not like Ruby, she's always wanted to be a Huntress. It's like she said, ever since she was a kid, she'd dreamt about being the heroes in the books. Helping people and saving the day, and never asking for anything else in return. (2x10)

But at the same time, it's important to have a life outside of that and to take time for yourself and your own wants and needs as well:

Ozpin: Well, you can't spend your whole life on the battlefield, even if you may want to.

Ruby: (crossing her arms, looking annoyed) Yeah, that lesson's been floating around a lot lately.

Ozpin: (staring out at the dancing couples) If you think about it, fighting and dancing aren't so different. Two partners interlocked, although one wrong move on the ballroom merely leads to a swollen foot. (2x07)

It's interesting how Ozpin compares fighting to dancing when looking out at the dancing couples in this scene, most of which foreshadow the romantic relationships in the show like Arkos/Renora/Blacksun/Bumbleby. And while Ruby does not dance with anyone in V2, the only person we have seen her "fighting" aka casually sparring one-on-one with in the main series, (like Pyrrha/Jaune used to) is Oscar.

Fighting with a partner=Dancing with a partner=Romantic Foreshadowing (...I just realised Emerald and Mercury technically do both in the series. Do with that what you will.)

And I feel like Ruby developing romantic feelings for Oscar could be a way for her to learn to be more selfish, in the sense of... wanting something for herself, and could be an interesting way to foil her to Salem, as the main heroine/villain of the story respectively.

Salem, who began the conflict of the story in confronting the Gods, learning to be more selfless and let Ozma (the first incarnation) go, in doing so allowing herself to grieve properly and coming to understand the importance of the balance of life and death, thus breaking her own curse of immortality and being able to unite with Ozma in the afterlife . Ruby, who will likely be the one to end the conflict and confront the Gods, who needs to learn to be more selfish, would have a more personal and selfish motive to do so. Not just to act as the selfless heroine and making sure everyone gets their happy ending (which she already is), but also a desire to have her own happy ending too. Wanting to be with Oscar (the last incarnation) and to restore him as his own person as such. (if Oscar ended up sacrificing himself to the merge by using magic or having fully merged over time).

In shorter terms, Ozma (and consequently all the past lives) is dead, and should be left to rest and pass on (by Salem), while Oscar is alive and should be allowed to live his own life (with Ruby). Death and Life. Life and Death. It works, thematically speaking.

Salem's love of Ozma and refusal to accept his death because she wanted a life with him that leads to her confronting the Gods, which is the ignition spark for the entire conflict of the series in the present along with Salem and Oz's curse of reincarnation/immortality And just...the idea of there being a future parallel with Ruby and Salem if she developed romantic feelings for Oscar, and refusal to lose him to the merge (because she'd want him to remain his own person) but that instead being the spark to resolve the stories' central conflict, not just fighting against Salem and protecting the Kingdoms/Relics (which she's already doing), but giving her a more personal, selfish reason to put an end to it for good. To eventually confront the Gods herself and have them let Oz and Salem rest, not just to save the world, but so Oscar is free to live as his own person so she can be with him, like how Salem wanted to be with Ozma.

It just feels very much like coming full circle, and that's very satisfying to me. (even if I know most of the FNDM would get very upsetti spaghetti at the idea of Ruby falling in love with an icky gross boy being part of her arc)