#my hyperfixation is stronger than ever

[farfaras]

Part 2.

What if Eddie moved on from thinking Steve and Nancy should get back together when Jonathan came back and saw how they’re actually destined to be together even tho they still have shit to figure out.

I know it’s a popular hc that Eddie and Robin clock each other immediately BUT I still think that as two queer kids in a small backwards town they’re more worried about no one finding out about them so they wouldn’t notice someone else. So worried about themselves that they (like straight people) also fall into the mindset of ‘everyone is straight until proven otherwise’.

What’s the result of this? Eddie seeing how close Robin and Steve are and thinking there must be something there. And because Steve is a little more affectionate than Robin, now Eddie thinks he’s pining after her.

“Why aren’t you and Robin together?”

“It’s not like that. She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t buy it.”

So now Steve has to put up with Eddie constantly going on about how Steve should just ask her out already, what’s he waiting for, she probably likes him back.

It bothers Steve to no end. He wished society had advanced enough to realize that men and women can be platonic friends without having to explain themselves.

A nightmare.

And Steve would never out Robin, so telling him the truth wasn’t an option. And he really wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, so that was out of the question. What could he do to get Eddie to understand that him and Robin would never happen?

Then he remembered. It seemed so distant but Steve actually tried to tell Robin he liked her once. It was kinda embarrassing to think about now, specially because he saw Robin as nothing more than a friend now. He couldn’t even remember what having a crush on her ever felt like. And maybe he never even had one, shitty friends and shitty parents maybe warped his perception and then he couldn’t see the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. Well, that was for another day. He could tell the difference now. He thinks.

He could just tell Eddie about that moment in starcourt. He would just leave out the part about Robin having absolutely bad taste in girls. Foolproof. Eddie would leave it alone now.

“What? She just rejected you and then you decided to become her best friend?” He looked surprised, like the idea was impossible to understand.

“And I don’t regret it. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re crazy.” Steve didn’t expect that.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie looked at him and his expression was hard to read. “You’re telling me that after being rejected you didn’t need time away? Just jumped to being a platonic friend? Despite your feelings?” He scoffed. “I could never do that.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You still like her?”

Steve really tried to convince Eddie that he didn’t like Robin anymore. But no matter what he would say he didn’t believe him.

So Steve gave up.

Now he goes along with it. It’s easier. It stopped Eddie from trying to set them up or whatever.

Except it didn’t.

Now Eddie came up with the absolute great idea of making her jealous. Which was so so ridiculous Steve had to hold back laughter. He didn’t mention how much Robin had heard about past dates. This was beginning to amuse him just a little bit.

“How would I even do that?” Steve asked, curious as to what Eddie would come up with.

“You know? Let me think about this.” He made a show of putting his hand on his chin, contemplating. “Show up at work with some marks on you neck. You know, see how she reacts to that knowledge.” Steve knows how Robin reacts to that. Before Vecna, on his endless quest to find ‘the one’ (what a waste) he had some hookups. One time he went into work with one or two hickeys on his neck. Robin wouldn’t even bat her eyes, just would ask ‘who was it now?’ and then ask if he would see her again. The answer was no. Eddie didn’t know this.

“Yeah well, I really don’t feel like going on a date and hooking up with someone just to use it to bait a reaction. Seems kinda cruel to the other person.” Steve thinks that should be enough to shut this idea down.

“Huh. Maybe you’re better than me because I didn’t even think about that.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just snorts. And he thinks that’s gonna be the end of it. There’s nothing else Eddie can really do or come up with. Right?

Wrong.

“I could do it.” Did Steve hear that right? Huh?

“What?” Steve asked.

“Give you a hickey. It’s no big deal, really.”

If you asked Steve why he said yes. Man, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He really doesn’t know! It’s like someone possessed him and he was moving his mouth, but it wasn’t him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t come up with a reason not to do it fast enough that would convince Eddie.

They were both sitting on the couch so Eddie just leaned in and started on a spot on the left side of his neck. Steve’s hand instinctively moved to the back of Eddie’s head. One wouldn’t think so based on its appearance but Eddie’s hair was surprisingly soft.

Suddenly there were teeth scraping his neck. Steve let out a noise that he hadn’t heard before. He accidentally pulled a little on Eddie’s hair, he was gonna apologize but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he just hummed.

“Did you just bite me?”

Eddie pulled back and sneered. “Sorry. I let my impulsive thoughts win.” What does that even mean?

Steve was gonna ask if that did it but then Eddie moved to his lap, straddling him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the other side?” Makes sense? Honestly his mind was getting a little mushy and was only focusing on Eddie’s weight on him. When Eddie leaned in again, Steve’s hands traveled to rest on his hips. Eddie’s on his shoulders to have leverage, his hips hovering now.

Steve tipped his head back to give him a little more space. With more space Eddie seemed to be satisfied with that spot and moved lower, however this next one was sensitive to Steve, he’s always known that. He was gonna say so but he couldn’t, Eddie was already on it. He let out a breathy sound and gripped Eddie’s hips tighter making him slam back on his lap. He thinks Eddie moaned, he’s not sure tho. “Sorry.” He muttered.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy this.

He did.

Maybe he should put a stop to it.

He hasn’t so far.

It went on a little longer. Some hands wandering. Some sounds uttered. Minds getting floaty.

He knew it was coming to an end when Eddie started leaving kisses to soothe the spots, he trailed until he got to his ear. Which he actually licked. It was probably to make a joke but it only made Steve shiver.

“I think you’re done.” Eddie said. He hesitated a second before climbing off his lap.

Steve knew he looked winded. Eddie tried to look casual but he’s known him for a while and could see that it was feigned casualness.

“Uh. Good.” Lame. Steve is lame.

Mike Wheeler was right because Steve Harrington is lame.

How is he gonna explain this to Robin?

[adrawee]

silly guy

[wereshrew-admirer]

they tried to say he was illiterate, but <redacted> knew his teachers had been wrong; it was just that the books they assigned were so boring, he was never able to make it through a single paragraph before tracing the lines of wood grain in his desk until his vision blurred seemed more appealing.

if only they knew how fast he could read an interesting book - but he wasn’t about to admit where he’d spent his day, not when there was a field that still needed plowing!

(or, pre-chine chine finds a cleaver’s fable book and steps out onto the slippery slope)

[my-l0v3r-v3rse]

Yo I just binged watch moon knight today and it was really good

[rowanisawriter]

why did thanatos… why did he have to say it like That… oughhhhhhh

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[cataqu33rz]

Maybe I have gone mad after all....

[decaying-lover]

been really into these two lately. my wolverine hyperfix is back, stronger than ever.

[princessbrunette]

truly obsessed with puppy!reader x john b 🥹 my actual current hyperfixation babes!!!!

can I request what he would be like during a thunderstorm and she’s super scared!!

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

each time the thunder roared, you buried your face further into john b’s hoodie.

it was a cooler night, rare for north carolina — and the thunderstorm outside seemed far from being over. you always hated thunderstorms — the sudden loud noises, the flashes of light, it made you feel like you were walking through one of those haunted houses at the fairground, filling your stomach with dread and making your heart pound.

john b was the only thing that ever grounded your fear. the hand that stroked over your cheek each time you whimpered in fear, or the way he helped you shuffle in impossibly closer when you needed to feel him. he was endlessly patient with you, even if it was the middle of the night and you were unable to sleep.

“hey, hey. dooooont cry. you’re a big girl.” he croons when you grip a fistful of his hoodie at the loud clap of thunder outside.

“that one sounded really close!” you wail, rigid with fear, voice muffled and yet clearly devastated.

“well, as a thunderstorm expert. i can promise you that it’s not close at all. trust me, this old chateau has got stronger bones than you might think. she’s not goin’ anywhere.” he attempts to dispel your fear, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“but…” you try to find a counterpoint, hoping that if you kept rambling you’d be distracted from the sudden sounds occurring outside. your boyfriend had grown intuitive to things like this, taking action.

“but…” he smiles. “you want me to read to you? whats gonna help you sleep, pup?” he pushes to sit up a little more in bed, bringing you with him and you nod, wiping your nose on the chest of his sweatshirt. “yeah?”

it doesn’t take long— a page and a half more specifically for john b to read you into a slumber, the constant hum of his raspy voice serving as the perfect white noise to help you drift off undisturbed.

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[elsa-fogen]

So I'm assuming you won't be posting anymore radiorose content?

i mean i haven't been posting any hazbin stuff in some while now, and i'm still not feeling like it, the winx hyperfixation is stronger than ever

(may do some crossovers tho)

i'll wait until the season comes out entirely and we'll see.

theres a chance that i'll change my favorite character to fucking Lute of all LMAO but who knows, but that's an option for sure

i believe in vengeful women with spears and left-sided disability supremacy ✨✨✨

tho i WANT to continue Good Intentions before that, the spoilers... well. KINDA messed it up, but fuck it, we ball in ✨✨denial✨✨

i want to finish it, because if i do i'll be able to make one meme that has been cycling in my head for some time now HAHASHDAHD that's a motivation

[feinv]

can i kindly req for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader.... pov he is just so so so in live with her...

arthur morgan x hyperfem!reader.

a/n. introducing my other hyperfixation on this blog. hope this won’t flop. if you don’t wanna see this you can block these tags! hope you like this dolly <3

arthur morgan is a romantic.

spending the majority of his life being without a significant other, he kept repressing all those emotions. and repressing just made them stronger.

but lucky for him he has you!

he doesn’t understand why a sweet thing like you would even look at his direction. but you did. and he wasn’t a fool to let you go after that. he absolutely gives you princess treatment. will do like. literally anything just to see you smile.

arthur loves taking you to beautiful places he encountered while riding around. seeing your eyes sparkle and that pretty smile you flush him is enough for him to die a happy man right there next to you.

he is absolutely feral at how adorable you look. like all the time. we all know 1800s underwears were like just a plain white fabric. but you still managed to stitch them up in a certain way and add a few small bows to make them look cuter! he is honestly so amazed that nothing ever stops you from doing your girly things, and he is always there to tell you that you did a good job and it looks perfect <3

he loves showing you off, especially when he knows he has the pleasure of calling you his. he will do any dirty job and hard labor just to get money and buy you anything you want.

he knows it's hard feeling beautiful when you have limited resources in a camp. so he would buy you whatever clothes you want, whatever jewelry and accessories you look at for more than five seconds when he takes you to a town. (he might even steal some really expensive ones and tell you he traded for those)

of course he would think you look gorgeous even if your entire face was covered in dirt and mud. but it matters to him that you feel happy and confident in yourself. and it's his mission to fulfill that goal for as long as he alive.

every time he would bring back a little something that reminded him of you — a book, a small painting, perfumes that smell just like you, and everything else in between.

he would help you with chores however he can just to ease some of your work and have more alone time together. the boys would tease him for being "a housewife," but he wouldn't give a shit. he might as well do every single of your chores if it meant he would have you all to himself in the confines of his tent.

showers you in compliments. all day 24/7. he knows the words will eventually fail him because he physically cannot tell u how infatuated he is with you and how flawless you are to him. but he will try either way.

“you are so beautiful, darlin'. my pretty girl,” while his fingers gently tuck hair away from your face, his thumb soothing your soft skin. and you would blush and avert his gaze because like :< but he would simply pepper feather light kisses all over your face before connecting your lips in such a tender kiss you would forget that’s a 6 feet tall ripped cowboy.

his side bag and some of his clothes in general would have small hearts or bows engraved in them with pink thread. every time he looks at them he gets reminded there is someone waiting for him to come back. and his heart just swells at that thought.

would also sneak you away from the camp to a pretty field where the two of you could just stargaze together or lay on the grass for hours. you would ramble about your day while he sketches you, your sweet voice literally making him float in the clouds.

arthur morgan loves being around you, being with you. you don't even have to be doing anything together, he just loves having you near him, close and safe :3

©️feinv, 2024.

[luvrboydave]

dad's best friend dave pt.2

pairing: dbf!dave x virgin!fem reader

warnings: smut, kinda insecure reader, inexperienced reader, age gap, couch sex, unprotected piv, creampie, maybe breeding kink idk, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), pussy slapping (like once), LOTS of praise, dave teaches her how to give a hj/bj, pet names (sweetheart, baby, darlin'), tiny itty bit of overstim, soft dave but also a little mean dave at the beginning

words: 2.3k

a/n: not proof read and also might be bad cuz im a bit out of practice :3 feeding the dbf!dave girlies even though im not hyperfixated on megadeth rn!!!! enjoy guys, COME GET YOUR FOOD MWAH <3

CLICK HERE FOR PT.1

ever since your little fling with dave, he’s been plaguing your thoughts more than usual…daydreams of his thick fingers inside of you, wet dreams involving him pinning you down and having his way with you. no matter how hard you try to ignore the thoughts and push them away, they always return stronger. sometimes, you wonder if he ever thinks about you as well, if he touches himself to the memory of your tight cunt. 

surely, he notices your lingering stares when he comes over to watch sports with your dad, right? surely, he notices that you’re completely and absolutely in love with him, right…?

it’s like you don’t even exist to him anymore; were you really that bad of a lay? thoughts raced through your head. did you do something wrong? did he not like how your body looked? were you too inexperienced for him? you were startled from your thoughts when a hand laid on your shoulder. looking to your left, you see that familiar head of curly orange hair. 

"oh, hey dave. sorry. i was just lost in thought," you mumble, turning to look up at him. 

dave hums at your words, “no worries, sweetheart. your dad just ran to the store, wanted me to tell you he’d be gone ‘bout an hour or two.”

your eyes follow him as he walks around the couch and sits beside you. “so, what was goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he smiles, locking eyes with you. it was as if he could see straight through you. 

“just thinking about…college stuff,” you murmur, eyes breaking away from his and looking down at your clasped hands. 

“school stuff, hm? there’s no reason to lie to me, sweetheart.” he places a hand on your bare knee, and you jump slightly at the touch. 

“i know, sorry. my brain is just all kinds of messy right now.” you sigh.

“you wanna talk about it?” he asks as his thumb rubs comforting circles over your thigh. 

you go silent, trying to decide if you should just ask if you’ve done something wrong. your brain is screaming at you not to do it, and your stomach churns at the thought of him confirming all your insecurities. 

with a burst of courage, you blurt out the question that’s been haunting you, “did i do something wrong?” 

dave’s face scrunches in confusion, “what makes you think you did something wrong, sweetheart?”

“y’know, the last time we were…alone…together. i can tell you’ve been avoiding me since then. i thought maybe i did something wrong or something you didn’t like if you were staying away from me…” you ramble, moving your hands wildly while explaining yourself. 

“shit, sweetheart…m’sorry. you didn’t do anything wrong; you were perfect. i was keeping my distance from you ’cause i thought you’d be disgusted by me.” he laughs, scooting closer to you on the couch and sliding his hand higher up your thigh. 

“i could never be disgusted by you.” you giggle, resisting the urge to press your thighs together at his touch. 

“is that right…” he hums, a smirk forming on his lips. 

all of a sudden, his lips are on yours. you moan in surprise, hands coming to wrap around his neck. the kiss is desperate but sweet at the same time, as if he’s trying to make up for causing you to stress. his hand continues under your skirt, knuckles rubbing over your damp panties. Dave’s other hand cups your face, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

you gasp when he slides your panties to the side and runs a finger through your folds. “shit, sweetheart… so wet for me already.” he groans into the kiss. you buck your hips up into his hand, silently asking for more. 

“mmh-, my baby is so fucking greedy.” dave growls, slipping a finger inside of your cunt. his cock grows hard from the noises you’re making–your soft mewls are music to his ears. dave slips another finger inside of you slowly, stretching you out nicely. once you adjust to the new addition, dave picks up his pace–fingers pistoning in and out of you. 

“fuck, this pussy is so sloppy for me, baby…all for me, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” dave grunts, looking you in the eyes. 

you struggle to give him an answer–the pleasure already too much for you. As you try to speak, the only things that come out are strained moans and half-formed curses. 

“fuckin’ answer me, baby.” dave growls, pulling his fingers out of you and landing a harsh slap on your sensitive cunt. your body jumps at the impact, crying out from the pain. 

“shit- yes! all for you- all for you…” you whine tearfully, hands moving to grip his hair. 

“good girl,” dave praises, rubbing your clit, before slipping his fingers back into your drooling pussy. his pace is brutal, and he doesn’t let up–not even when fat tears start to roll down your cheeks. one of the hands that’s threaded into his hair moves to grip his wrist, trying to slow him down–but he doesn’t relent. 

dave pushes you down to lay on your back with his free hand before snatching both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. He can tell you’re close by the way you squirm underneath him, frantically bucking your hips into his hand. 

“that’s it, sweetheart. let go for me.” dave coos as you come undone. your body shakes, thighs clamping shut around dave’s hand at the intensity of your orgasm. 

your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. dave gives you time to recover, gently rubbing your thigh before leaving to grab you a glass of water. you thank him when he returns to the living room, and you down the glass quickly. 

“wanna help you now,” you mumble shyly, pushing him back against the couch before sinking to your knees in front of him, “this is my first time doin’ this…” you admit. 

“fuck…you’re so perfect for me, sweetheart. letting an old man like me take all your firsts,” he groans, “gonna let me be the first one to fuck your pretty little angel cunt too, hm?” 

you nod softly, looking away from him in embarrassment. he chuckles at your shyness before grabbing your hand and placing it over his bulge. 

“here, let me teach ya how it’s done,” he smiles, “first, you gotta take it out, ‘kay?” 

you nod again, pulling the zipper down and helping him slip out of his jeans. you’re a little intimidated, but he reassures you that you can back out anytime. 

you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his cock; it’s a bit weird at first, but you eventually get used to the feeling and feel confident enough to pull his boxers down and let his cock spring free. dave praises you sweetly and helps guide you through it. 

“go ahead and spit on it now, sweetheart,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do exactly as he says, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it drip from your lips onto the head of his cock. 

“good,” he smiles, “now use your hand to spread it around–use a little pressure, but don’t squeeze too hard.” 

you follow his instructions, stroking up and down and occasionally squeezing lightly. dave groans softly, watching you with lustful eyes. he swears he almost cums when he sees your wide, curious eyes staring up at him. 

“you’re doing amazing for me, baby…use your thumb to rub the tip–and if it feels like it’s getting dry, spit on it some more.”

you let some more spit fall onto his dick, using your thumb to spread it around his tip. hesitantly, you lean down and give the tip a small lick. your cunt clenches at the sound dave makes. testing the waters, you give it another lick before wrapping your lips around the tip. dave has to fight the urge to buck his hips up and bury his cock deep in your warm throat. 

“fuck- didn’t even have to tell you to put it in your mouth,” he groans and threads a hand in your hair, “take your time, sweetheart. you don’t gotta rush.” 

you try to smile at him before taking his cock further into your mouth. you revel in the small grunts and sighs dave makes, thighs clenching at the erotic sounds. as you try to take him deeper, you gag around his cock and quickly pull off to catch your breath. dave hums at your messy face, the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes making his dick twitch. he softly raises his hand to caress your cheek, encouraging you to take him back into your mouth. 

“gonna let me fuck your throat, sweetheart?” dave questions, “i promise i’ll be gentle.”

you hum in agreement around his cock, whining when he threads his hand into your hair. dave slowly thrusts up into your mouth, and your throat constricts around him as he pushes deeper and deeper. his free hand wipes the tears from your eyes, and he coos at you softly. he groans when he bottoms out in your throat. 

“shiiit- you’re doing great, sweetheart. just breathe through your nose, baby–tap my leg a few times if you need me to pull out,” he mumbles, pulling back until just the tip is in your mouth and sliding back in slowly. 

dave slowly increases his pace, spouting praise at you as he does so. When you swirl your tongue around his tip and bring a hand up to massage his balls, he knows he’s about to cum. he quickly pulls out of your mouth and pulls you up from the floor before laying you down on the couch. 

“need to be inside of you, sweetheart. can’t wait to fill this pretty pussy of yours.” dave groans, pulling your shirt over your head and panties down your legs. 

“hot even wearin’ a bra, huh–so fuckin’ desperate for me…you wanted this to happen, didn’t you.” he teases, hands groping at your bare tits. 

you whine, nodding feverishly and bucking your hips up into him. dave chuckles at your impatience. your body twitches when you feel dave spit down onto your already sopping cunt a few times. dave guides his cock to your cunt, slipping between your pussy lips and rocking back and forth. your mouth opens with a silent whine when the head of his cock catches on your clit as he rocks forward. 

“gonna put it in now, sweetheart. try to relax for me, i want this to be as comfortable for you as possible,” dave states, pushing your legs up towards your chest and guiding his cock to your entrance.

you keen at the stretch, wincing slightly as your cunt opens up for him. “that’s it…breathe for me, baby–just relax.” he murmurs sweetly.

dave continues pushing deeper into your tight pussy, groaning as your warm walls flutter around his length. he pauses as he bottoms out, allowing you time to breathe and adjust to his size, all while muttering praise in your ear. 

“think i’m ready for you to move, baby…” you whine, rocking your hips slightly into his. 

dave smiles at you before he pulls out and thrusts back in gently. your eyes roll back into your head as he begins thrusting into you at a steady pace. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a messy kiss. dave swallows the pretty noises you make as he fucks you, revelling in your pleasure. 

“you can move faster-” you moan, breaking the kiss and looking him in the eyes. 

“you sure, sweetheart?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts and waiting for you to confirm. you nod, giving him the go-ahead to speed up.

it’s like a switch flips inside of him–he pushes your legs even closer to your chest and fucks into you quickly. your head falls back onto the couch's armrest, fingers clawing at his shoulders in pleasure. dave’s hips piston in and out of you, your sloppy cunt squelching with each thrust. 

your back arches off of the couch when he snakes his hand down to play with your swollen clit. your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure quickly becoming too much. 

“hnng- think im gonna cum! fuck-” you cry out, voice breaking as tears spill from your eyes.

“Shh, sweetheart. you can let go, c’mon, cum for me like a good girl.” he coos, fingers still rubbing circles on your clit as he picks up his pace. 

Your body shakes as you start to cum, and your vision goes spotty. your arms hold onto dave’s shoulders for dear life as your body convulses. dave continues thrusting in and out of your cunt, overstimulating your poor, sensitive pussy. 

“keep clenchin’ around me, just like that, sweetheart,” he growls, his pace faltering ever so slightly. “fuuuck- gonna fuckin’ ruin this gorgeous angel cunt of yours, baby–fill you up so good you’ll be leakin’ for weeks.” 

dave groans, pushing his hips flush with yours when he cums, pumping you full of his warm, sticky cum. your pussy flutters around him, milking him of every last drop. dave’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and he presses soft kisses to the skin there. you stroke his back as he lays on top of you, a smile pulling on your lips. 

“i think i’m in love with you,” you mutter softly. 

dave’s ears perk up at your words–he lifts his head to look at you, “you really mean that, sweetheart?” 

“of course I do,” you affirm, moving your hands to hold his face and pull him up into a loving kiss. 

“i love you too,” he murmurs into the kiss, “but we might wanna get dressed…i don’t think your dad would appreciate seeing us cuddled up naked on the couch,” he laughs.

[icurushasfallen]

Me now that Poolverine/Deadclaws isn’t trending anymore and my need to hyperfixate is stronger than ever.

[limbus-limousine]

Okay so I'm talking real crazy because my hyperfixation is going strong but like.thinking abt.Demisin as Moon/Tide symbolism, which is appliable to any iteration of them, but my favorite ever is NClair mirror world. And just obssesed with that AU in specific so.

Rambling abt them under cut>>

I keep getting the notion that Demian has the potential to be REALLY fucked up, and he expresses that through the book, like nonchalantly suggesting murder, for starters. Let's say, Sinclair is the moon, Demian is the tide. Demian bends to his behavior as he seeks to guide him accordingly, and Sinclair is of considerably tame morals.

Now, enter NClair. I reckon a day would come when Demian is done watching his raptor getting fed trash by Kromer. And so he shall reclaim him, but Sinclair has been subject to a lot of change in this period. Not only would he resent the abandonment on Demian's part, but he had also been taught that violence would get him gratitude. Although not worthy enough of a substitution for the affection of his family, it was all he had.

Demian surely would match this approach, as tide to the moon, and even if it's within his power to end a life, he'd allow a handful of blows from the halberd to land in. He'd let them hurt, and then deliver his own in exchange.

Even so I don't think Sinclair would be consumed only by hate, as Demian himself triggers many things. Surely he'd be slightly relieved to see him again. But he'd still attack nonetheless —it's everything he was taught how to do— and the motivation stronger than ever. There'd be a certain charm to Demian being affected in one way or another. Something as simple as his breaths growing shorter by a fraction of a second, something one couldn't notice unless they eagerly seeked such signs. But that would still be a steady reasurance.

As long as Demian remains disheveled he shall not leave. He shall not vanish without his eerie mystique back in place. And Sinclair would eat him alive if that meant he'd stay for a little while longer.

OK THST ALL I HAVE TO SAY.

Also you get a version with added in lyrics because i was in a music induced craze while drawing this. Song is DEVIL NOBODY by stomach book & zombAe

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

You Belong to Me

*Not my GIF

This is the first thing I’ve written in years but Shadow and Bone (and particularly Nikolai Lantsov!) is my new hyperfixation and I had the urge to write something, so here we are. Based on the prompt: “Mine.” “Say it again.” which I got from tumblr forever ago.

Summary: Reader is in an established relationship with Nikolai and they get jealous seeing someone else flirting with him so they decide to remind him who he belongs to. Turns out the King finds jealous/possessive reader a turn on, who would have guessed?

Word count: 2K

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. A tiny hint of a plot but really it’s just smut, hand job, jealousy/possessiveness, slight praise kink if you squint, reader can be any gender you like, I’ve left it deliberately vague for your reading pleasure :)

The grand ballroom was so full that you could barely move an inch without bumping into a visiting noble, courtier or ambassador of some sort. Musicians were playing at one end of the room and waiters flitted about with trays of champagne.

You scanned the crowd in an effort to locate the King. Your eyes found him finally near of the centre of the room, surrounded by young ladies and you sighed, because of course he was. You had only left Nikolai’s side for a few minutes, but that was all it took for the vultures to descend. You supposed you couldn’t really blame them, he was gorgeous. Intelligent and charming too. Wherever he went, people were drawn to him like moths to the proverbial flame. Your relationship with the King had started many years before, when he was just a wayward second son with little hope of ever inheriting the throne and though his circumstances had now changed, your love for each other remained stronger than ever. Nikolai could be a bit of a flirt, but you trusted him implicitly. You knew without a doubt that anyone trying to tempt him would fail. He would be going home with you, still that didn’t stop the surge of jealousy that burned uncomfortably in your stomach as you made your way across the room to join the group. Nikolai’s eyes lit up as he saw you approach and he reached for you immediately, wrapping his arm around your waist without even the slightest hint of hesitation. You watched with a perverse sense of satisfaction as obvious disappointment flitted over the faces of his companions and several of the ladies politely excused themselves, quickly losing interest now they knew for certain that the King was taken. The last young lady however, was not so easily deterred. She looked you up and down with barely concealed distaste as Nikolai made the formal introductions and then finally she offered you a saccharine smile - entirely for his benefit you assumed, since it was obvious that it pained her to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly. You would be nice if it killed you. It would only cause problems for Nikolai if you went around being rude to his guests, regardless of wether they deserved it or not. The other woman made no response, already turning her attention back to the King as if you hadn’t even spoken. Apparently she didn’t share your concerns about rudeness. Nikolai cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, “Miss Antonova was just telling me about her home in Kerch.” “Oh yes,” Miss Antonova exclaimed, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger, “As I was saying, you must come for a visit, your highness. I know my father would be honored to host you.” “What a generous offer,” Nikolai smiled, “perhaps we may take you up on it someday.” The young woman beamed at him, pleased with his response. “We could make it one of the stops on our honeymoon,” you suggested, just to watch her face fall. “Absolutely not. I should not consider our honeymoon a success if we are to be fit for company at any point,” Nikolai grinned impishly and you shook your head fondly, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the implication. You could feel Miss Antonova glaring daggers at you. “Well, perhaps you could make the trip to Kerch on your own instead, moi tsar,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes at him, “I would be happy to volunteer as your personal guide.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I bet you would,” you muttered quietly under your breath, though not quietly enough if Nikolai’s sudden coughing fit was any indicator. Miss Antinova moved closer to him, her face creased in concern, “Goodness, are you alright?” She asked, laying a hand on his arm. You glared at her, touching the King was in no way appropriate. Nikolai gave you a look, shaking his head minutely - a gesture you knew to mean leave it alone. So you bit your tongue even though you wanted to tell her off. “Yes, I’m quite well,” Nikolai assured her once he had recovered, “My apologies.” Despite his reassurance, and the heat of your still disapproving glare, she did not move away or remove her hand. Instead, she moved further into his personal space, close enough to be considered indecent in your opinion. Her delicate hand curled around his clothed bicep. You struggled to fix a polite smile on your face when in your head you were fantasizing about breaking her fingers one by one. “Oh my, you have very strong arms,” she gushed and this time you did roll your eyes. For Saints sake. Nikolai met your gaze over the top of her head and you saw amusement dancing in his eyes. “I work out from time to time,” he told her with a wink, “It’s important to keep my army training up to date.” Miss Antonova giggled girlishly, as if he had said something ridiculously funny, and you decided that was quite enough. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to excuse us,” you stated bluntly, “the King has an urgent, private matter to attend to immediately.” Rather than wait for a response, you turned and firmly grasping Nikolai’s hand, pulled him away and across the crowded room towards the door. Although he could easily have escaped your hold if he had wanted to, Nikolai followed you without complaint, allowing you to lead him out of the ballroom and through the Palace hallways as though he were a boy rather than the King. Entering his chambers you made sure to lock the door behind you and then you stalked towards him, forcing him backwards until his back hit the wall behind him. “Something wrong, my love?” He asked, an amused little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “The audacity of that woman,” you grumbled, “Mooning and flirting, and touching you! As if I wasn’t standing right there.” “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, eyes sparkling with affectionate humor, “I thought she was just being friendly.” “Friendly? She was all over you!” you objected. “Maybe a little bit,” he conceded with a slight tilt of his head, his smirk widening. “But you know that I would never accept her advances, or anyone’s for that matter,” he insisted earnestly as he reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, “So what does it matter?” “I didn’t like it, Kolya,” you muttered irritably, yanking at the knot of his cravat in an effort to remove it and almost choking him in the process. “Really?” he chuckled, “I hadn’t noticed.” He batted your hands away so he could loosen the offending item himself, pulling it free of his collar and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as he went. You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not funny.” He hummed in agreement as he dipped his head to kiss you, slow and sweet, just a soft brush of his lips over yours, but your were in no mood for romance. You nipped at his bottom lip impatiently, licking hot and demanding into his mouth when he opened up to you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily and sucking on his tongue before you surfaced for air. You kissed an open-mouthed line across his jaw and down his throat, pausing to nip and suck at his pulse point. “Ah. Not above the collar,” he reminded you gently. You huffed, pressing yourself tighter against him and wedging a knee between both of his so that your thigh was pressed against his crotch. He was already hard and knowing it was because of you - not her - tempered your jealousy a little. Nosing down into the collar of his shirt to reach the juncture of his shoulder, you sucked a stinging bruise into his skin. His hips bucked in response. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired your handiwork, a surge of possessiveness rolling through you. “Mine,” you murmured as you laved your tongue over the offending mark. Nikolai groaned low in his throat, rutting against you more insistently. “Say it again,” he gasped. His voice was rough with arousal and you lifted your head to regard him, surprised by his reaction. You felt a heady rush of power as you looked him over. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. His lips were shiny and kiss–swollen and his face was flushed, a deep blush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. You had barely started and he was already wrecked. “You belong to me,” you purred in his ear, nuzzling at his throat as you reached a hand between you to stroke him through his pants. He made an involuntary keening sound, his eyes slipping closed as he pushed himself into your palm. “No one else gets to touch you like this, do they?” He shook his head frantically, hips straining towards you, desperately seeking more friction. You sighed, feigning disappointment. “I can’t hear you,” you chastised, “Use your words Kolya." “No,” he breathed, “only you.” “That’s right,” you agreed, smiling against his skin.

You rewarded him by freeing him from his pants and he moaned as you used the precum that had gathered at the head of his cock to slick your palm. He laid his forehead against yours, opening his eyes so that he could follow the movement of your hand as you jerked him in a firm, fast rhythm until he was panting. When you knew he was near his peak, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “Mine,” you whispered possessively, a seductive smile on your lips. He shuddered, his head dropping to your shoulder and his hands tightening on your waist as he came with a soft cry, thick stands of cum covering your hand and the front of his shirt. He slumped against the wall, boneless in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Well,” he said breathlessly, “that was..,” “Intense? Incredible? Life changing?” you suggested helpfully, and he snorted a laugh. “I was going to say unexpected, but those work too.”

You brought your clean hand up to his throat, running your thumb over the dark bruises you had left just below the line of his collar. "I'm afraid I've made quite a mess," you said, "I'm sorry." And you were, now that the bitter sting of jealousy had faded and you had returned to your senses.

"Don't be. I don't know if you could tell but I rather liked it," Nikolai grinned, "and besides, I've made a mess of you too, so I'd say we're even."

"I suppose that's true," you agreed, bringing your hand up to your mouth. Your tongue snaked out to gently lap the remains of his release from your fingers and he groaned, scrubbing a shaky hand across his face. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accused and you laughed as you leaned in to kiss him. Nikolai pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss but keeping it sweet and unhurried.

"Give me a moment to recover and I'll repay the favour," he promised.