#some digital will appear if I still have them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gallusrostromegalus · 5 months ago

Text

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God. He taught himself how to use his smartphone. Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity.

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.” Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid. My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution: He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose. While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada. He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her.

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System. It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”. He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room. It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds. Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled.

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan. With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted. The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone.

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape. She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times. Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System. It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy! My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year. I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image. A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair. Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing).

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

#Family Lore #Dogs #arwen #Arwen the Crime Dog #Taxes #Ronald Regan mention (derogatory)#long post under the cut #this one is funny this time #I could really use some extra tip money this month

10K notes · View notes

absentlyabbie · 1 year ago

Text

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

24K notes · View notes

sirfrogsworth · 5 months ago

Text

I think in this new age of A.I. the general public is going to need to increase their photography and lighting literacy. The response to this photo has just been a shit show.

There are people pointing out perfectly normal edge lighting and misunderstanding how reflections work.

First the plane is parked at an angle. The tail is farther back than the nose. But also that is a curved surface and it tapers. It's reflecting the area to the right of the photo.

And the bottom of the plane is reflecting what is directly underneath. Which is the tarmac, not the crowd.

It should also be noted that photo was shot with a very telephoto lens and everything is super compressed. The crowd appears much closer to the airplane than they actually are.

But then someone who should have good understanding of lighting said this...

And now I'm worried for her clients. Because that's very... wrong.

Well, wrong-ish.

First, let's try to understand why this photo is setting off some alarm bells.

The crowd toward the rear is in shadow, but they are still very well exposed. But then there is also a bright light source creating a strong edge light on them. Looking at this photo with just the context of what is in it, there are some things that seem uncanny.

The information we do not have is the people in the shadow area are inside a very brightly lit airplane hangar.

So they have artificial light blasting them from the top.

But that light is still much dimmer than the sunlit areas outside so they appear in shade. But we are used to shade being much darker than areas in direct sun. So the balance seems off in our brain. We expect the people to be darker because we don't have the context of the bright hangar lights above them.

But the other issue is that the photo was post processed. It wasn't manipulated. The pixels weren't changed. But the exposure balance was altered.

If I were to guess, the original photo looked more like this...

But newer digital cameras can have 13 to 15 stops of dynamic range. And if you shoot in RAW, you can easily lift shadows and bring down highlights. You can balance the exposure so the dark parts aren't as dark and the bright parts aren't as bright. This photographer might have overdone it a bit in this case, but this is a fairly standard edit used to bring balance to photos.

And lastly, where does the edge light come from?

Edge lighting or backlighting or rim lighting (all the same) should probably be called wrap-around lighting if you want to be more accurate.

It comes from a homogenous light source that is larger than the subject being lit. So with my knife photo, I placed it on a large LED panel light.

The light source was bigger than the subject so it wrapped around the edges.

And I'm afraid the airplane is not nearly large enough to create a light source to wrap around everyone in the crowd. It isn't even reflecting direct sunlight. So I'm sorry to say that lighting designer was mostly mistaken despite the confidence.

The light source is... everything.

That entire red area I highlighted is the light source.

As well as everything above and everything to the sides.

And the biggest aspect of that light source would be the sky above. I think people always forget the sky is a light source. If you are seeing blue, you are seeing light. And I guess the plane is included in that, but that entire highlighted red area is so bright, and so filled with sunlight bouncing around, that it creates basically a giant softbox. It becomes a huge single light source for the people in the hangar.

If you look at footage taken from way inside the hangar, you can see the camera adjusting exposure for the crowd inside, but look at what happens to the sunlit area outside.

What does that look like?

A giant softbox.

A single homogenous light source blasting light inside the hangar.

The sun is so incredibly bright that even when it is not directly lighting something, the light just bouncing around outside is enough to overpower the very bright hangar lights.

So, what have we learned from this?

Perhaps people should hire me to be their lighting designer.

Though I'm sure she is actually very talented. She seems to work with stage lights and this is more physics and photography.

Phystography.

#long post #light

4K notes · View notes

mattybsgroupie · 1 month ago

Text

obsessed | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; boob sucking/nipple play (f receiving); p in v; creampie; sub!matt

♡⊹𑄽୧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: happy december!!! i know i’ve been taking a little too long to write, but the semester is almost over and i’m ready to lock in. i apologize for slacking and i’m so grateful for your patience and love ♡ here’s a titty obsessed sub!matt cause i know y’all fucking love it! not proofread, enjoy!!! also — first time writing a full fic in 2nd person. let me know if you guys like it or if i should go back to the previous version!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ requested by: anon

♡⊹𑄽୧

after a long, tiring day, you were more than ready to go home — actually, to matt. he was your point of peace at the end of the day, and this had been an exhausting one.

you dragged your feet lazily across the wooden floor, taking slow steps towards your bedroom. you knocked gently on the door before opening it to find matt sitting in his gaming chair, his fingers furiously switching between the buttons on the console resting on his hand. certainly, your presence quickly soothed whatever it was that was making him anxious, a soft smile appearing on his lips as you walked over to him.

matt removed his headset before opening his arms, a low “c’mere” murmuring from his lips. you smiled back, defeated and tired, trying to find some comfort in his warm embrace.

matt quickly wrapped both of his arms around your waist, parting his legs slightly so you could fit better. you chuckled at his eagerness, ruffling his hair and placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“tired?” matt asked, looking up with his blue, calm orbs. you sighed before nodding, not really wanting to talk or make a fuss out of it.

“let me take care of you, yeah?” he said, running his thumbs all the way down your spine. matt got up from the chair and, while still holding you, led the way to your bed. he gently let you get comfortable on the mattress and soon joined you, his body hovering over yours, his own weight balanced by his elbows.

as matt’s weight shifted beside you, he carefully cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips and pulling the lower one apart. with a grin, you opened your mouth a bit more, waiting for him to continue.

matt placed his digit on your tongue and you quickly wrapped your lips around it, starting to suck. “naughty girl” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. after a while, matt removed his finger of your mouth, receiving a whine in protest.

matt’s eyes flickered back to your lips. he missed you more than ever and before you could say anything, he closed the distance between the both of you, smashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. your hands immediately found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling on his soft, brown strands as you melted into the kiss.

his hands tightened their grip on your waist, pulling you closer as his large palm wandered across your body, finally meeting what he wanted the most: your boobs.

you let out a surprised gasp with the sudden touch, matt gently squeezing one of your tits as his whispered “can i have them? please?”

you chuckled at his eagerness, feeling his fingertips travel underneath your shirt. you nodded with a smile and, instead of helping you undress, matt simply slid his head underneath the fabric, his breath getting heavier as he pressed his lips on your tummy and made his way upwards.

you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, holding a moan that was trying to escape. matt knew exactly where to touch you — all he wanted was to make you feel good.

he latched on your nipple, his tongue swirling around your hardened nub before starting to suck it. matt was obsessed with your boobs and needed them every single day.

he wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loved whenever you raised your shirt so he could grip, bite, suck and do whatever he wanted on them. as soon as his lips were there, he’d immediately get hard, trying his best to cover the pathetic boner in his pants.

this time was no different. matt sucked greedily and hungrily, holding your hips down and making a mess on your breasts with his own drool. he loved every second of it and so did you, the wet patch in your panties growing wider as you felt matt’s bulge rubbing against your thigh.

“what’s going on down there, hm?” you cooed, receiving a whine in response. he didn’t wanna let go and he wasn’t planning on doing it any time soon, even if that meant cumming untouched. “be a good boy” your words sent a shiver down his spine, his cock twitching inside his pants.

“c’mon matt, you’re gonna milk me dry” you chuckled, touching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, revealing matt. his cheeks were flushed and his hair was messy, a dazed look on his face.

“you’re just so yummy” he muffled, nuzzling his head on your bare chest. “do you think so?” you teased, adjusting underneath him, your knee slightly pressing against his hardened cock. matt choked on a moan, his desire growing each second.

“please” he murmured. “i’ll do anything you want, i n-need you so bad” matt managed to speak, his desperation to please you was evident in every touch, every word, every lingering glance.

“anything i want?” you smirked and he nodded, puppy eyes gazing at you desperately.

“i promise i’m gonna make you feel good” he added, dragging with his tongue on your bruised skin, biting your neck sloppily. you moved your hand down his torso, reaching for his boner and palming his dick over the cloth. matt trembled, as if he was close to his climax just from your touch.

“is that so, baby? i don’t think you’re gonna be able to hold much longer” you teased, wrapping your knuckles around his covered cock. you could feel the wetness spreading through the fabric, matt’s pants almost leaking from the amount of pre-cum.

“i really wanted you to cum inside of me” you whispered, a whimper coming from the back of his throat.

“i can hold it!” matt firmly said, too busy trying not to cum to give any attention to your neck, your lips, or even your — his — beloved boobs. “i c-can! wan’ cum inside you, please” he begged, unwittingly jerking his hips forward.

“such a needy boy” you cooed, moving your fingers to his waistband and helping him remove it. matt’s cock slapped against his lower belly, his red, swollen tip leaking pre-cum from his slit.

“fill me up” you said. that was all matt needed — he got up on his knees and removed his shirt before going back to you, two fingers reaching for the wet spot in your underwear. matt pulled your panties aside, displaying your swollen clit and giving it light taps before moving his thumb in circular motions.

matt didn’t even bother taking your panties off, stroking his own cock as he placed he tip near your hole. he also didn’t slide in gradually and steadily like he used to, pushing himself inside you without even asking.

you threw your head back, gripping on the sheets as his veins pumped against your walls. matt’s huge cock filled you up entirely — honestly, he didn’t mind staying like that forever, as long as he was inside you and having your tits.

matt lowered himself closer to you, letting you adjust to his size before latching on your nipple, a pleased hum coming from him as he sucked one and groped the other, squeezing it harshly.

“matt— fuck!” you managed to speak, tangling your fingers on his brown locks before placing your palm on his shoulders, your nails digging deep on his pale skin.

“baby, you’re so fucking big” you praised, and matt took this as his cue to start moving. he really tried to take it easy and slow, but he couldn’t. you were so warm and tight, wrapping his cock so perfectly.

matt’s thrusts became sloppier and messier, the sound of your skins slapping against each other and your loud moans taking over the room. the knot on your lower belly tightened when matt started pounding into you mindlessly, chasing his own orgasm.

“need’a cum” he unlatched from your tit and whimpered, waiting for your permission. “please, wan’ make a big mess for you”. he was adorable.

a few more thrusts and you were close, matt’s hand’s gripping every inch of your skin showing how much he needed you was more than a turn on.

“cum with me babe” you said, feeling the sudden rush of your orgasm hitting you without warning and throwing you over the edge, with a loud groan, matt came in thick ropes of cum inside you, painting your walls white. he kept pushing himself further as you talked him through it, praising him for being a good boy.

you could feel his cum — mixed with your own — dripping down your thighs, a tired sigh coming from his lips as he pulled out and collapsed next to you.

as you chuckled at his exhaustion, matt turned his head to you, a pleased grin on his lips. “these guys” he said, pointing to your boobs. “they’re the best”. you ruffled his hair and sealed your lips together, finally getting the rest you both needed.

♡⊹𑄽୧

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @slutformatthewsturniolo

♡⊹𑄽୧

1K notes · View notes

bluesidez · 8 months ago

Text

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

2K notes · View notes

seresinhangmanjake · 3 months ago

Note

Hey! I saw you were accepting Feyd requests and I got so excited! Could you do something where Feyd and reader have been married for a little while, have been pretty stand-offish and just keeping up appearances. They get into a fight over something stupid, saying hurtful things because reader still believes Feyd is incapable of feelings. Turns out he’s really protective though and gets seriously injured saving her during an attack? Reader panics trying to help him and the feels super guilty, meanwhile Feyd is enjoying the attention.

Staining

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Notes/Warnings: It's slightly different, but I hope you like it anyway. Mentions of blood and death. Smut so 18+. I'm sure there's typos. I think that's it.

Words: 4100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“You’re heartless”—that’s what you spit at him after watching him rip apart another family right before your eyes.

He slaughtered a man for a petty crime, and then you had to watch what would become of the wife and children.

He gave them options, of course. He presents all of them with a choice: to be servants for his House or to fight for survival in the slums of Giedi Prime. For the mother, it likely means you’ll have a new handmaid. For the boys, they will be trained so they can one day face off in the arena. Either way, it's no life.

As he announced the options for their future, you couldn’t look away from her: the woman whose husband lay at her feet, the blood drained from his body as she attempted to shield her two young sons behind her small frame. You watched her kind eyes go permanently wide out of shock. She needed to answer your husband’s question, give a response to his merciful offer, but she couldn’t. Nothing on her moved save for the grip she had on her boys, which only tightened the longer she stared at her dead lover.

You knew what would happen to them. Your husband found her silence and inability to snap out of her trace irritating. She would make a poor handmaid if she could not listen. The boys, however, could still make fine warriors—guaranteed entertainment a few years down the line.

So he separated them. Allowed the guards to pry them away from their mother’s fingers—who left her state of shock behind only when she felt them being ripped from her hands—before dragging them to cells with tears streaming down their round cheeks.

Their mother collapsed to the floor by her dead husband. His blood soaked her skirts. You didn’t know how a man could do this to his own people for something as simple as the theft of some food, but he does, and often. Then he had her thrown out, back to the slums where she came from.

She’ll never see her boys again. If you know your husband, he will likely one day force the two to face off with each other in the arena. After all, that’s where his uncle finds entertainment, and your husband will do anything to please the old man.

Long after his guards have departed with the woman, you’re still staring at the body on the floor. The red around him is congealing. If you run your finger through it, the digit will return sticky and thickly coated. He’ll stain your skin. He’ll stain through your skin onto your insides. He’ll never come off.

He’s like your husband, you think. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stained you, and impressively, he didn’t even have to touch you to achieve that. Simply being in his presence was enough to leave his mark, and you’re in his presence plenty, just not how you imagined you would be when you married him. You imagined being in his bed. You imagined kisses and loving caresses and sweet words—that kind of staining. But you were a naive girl when your parents dropped you off on this planet, and you quickly learned how to be a woman; a woman whose husband only uses her for formality’s sake.

You don’t know why you have to be by his side for this, though, but he always ensures that you are. The two of you…a solidified front to the world, as if you agree with the choices he makes and the punishment he doles out to those who don’t deserve it.

So that’s why you say it. Because you’re tired of this, tired of being silent, hating the idea that your silence might lead him to think the two of you are on the same page; that you’re a team.

“You’re heartless.”

His head whips to you. “Heartless…” His voice around the word is vile; thick and rich like the blood on the floor. With a few steps in your direction he is in your space and you clasp your hands in front of you, fingers squeezing tightly to keep yourself from running off. He stares down at you, a luminous blue that you found so stunningly gorgeous when you first met him now a pair of frozen icicles stabbing into your skull. “I’m heartless?”

Your swallow is rough. Dry and scratchy.

“I’m not the one who steals from his neighbors. I’m not the one who risks leaving his wife alone for the rest of her life,” he says. “They know the laws. They know the consequences.”

“And the woman? She deserves to be alone, rotting away in poor living conditions because of his choice? Her children deserve to die for your entertainment?”

“You take issue with how I handle things?”

“Yes.”

Feyd’s back teeth clench. His jaw sets in a sharp line. “Another reason for you to hate me then,” he grits out.

You blink. Your lips part. Another reason? You don’t have multiple reasons, and there’s certainly nothing you’ve done to indicate that you do. You used to hate that he didn’t, and doesn’t, care about you, but you’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never bothered him about sleeping in separate rooms or asked him to give you anything of himself. This—his treatment of his people in situations like this one—isn’t another reason. It’s the reason.

“You could deal with these matters differently,” you say.

His fingers form balls at his sides. His mouth opens. It closes. He shakes his head and walks past you but pauses before he is completely out of your peripherals. “This is how things are done here,” he says. “You’ve been my wife for five months now. You need to get used to it.”

—

You don’t get used to it. You don’t get used to it because he doesn’t demand you be by his side at his executions anymore. Not after that day.

You’d never spoken up before that moment, and it cost you what little interaction you had with your husband, which you despise to say was precious. You may not love him, and at times hate him, but he is the only thing you have on this planet. Little as you spoke to one another before, you held onto it because no one else gives a damn about you. Not that he does either, but at least he would give you a word or two. His brother and the Baron don’t bother, leaving you to Feyd to decide what to do with and when to do it.

However, you imagine they didn’t expect that he would never touch you, and based on the way they watch you and Feyd when you’re forced to join the Harkonnen’s for dinner, you imagine they’re now aware that whatever was between you—minute as it was—is gone. He doesn’t even call on you for formal events. He no longer cares about showing a unified front to the other Great Houses. But you do.

You know what reputation means to the Harkonnens, and regardless of how you feel about the history of Feyd’s choices, you’re not willing to present your life on Giedi Prime as a failure. The two of you are too young for whispers to spread among influential families of a tainted marriage, a crack in the system. You don’t need questions floating about in regards to a unification that will not result in an heir. The end of the Harkonnen line, they’ll say, as Rabban, much older than your husband, has yet to choose a wife. How unfortunate, they’ll slyly mutter around the rims of their champagne glasses. And you’re not ready for that.

So, with the exception of executions, you attend the events your husband does not invite you to anymore. You make sure your face is seen, especially when most vital. At his meetings, at his fights in the arena, and at Harkonnen parties such as this one.

People enjoy themselves here. Shockingly, a few strong drinks eases the tension between Houses, and Giedi Prime has the strongest drinks of them all. It’s a tactic. A genius one, if you’re honest. The Baron invites his guests and gets them in a good mood and strikes deals one cannot go back on. Brilliant. Something you might have thought of yourself if your husband let you share your thoughts; thoughts you have plenty of. But no one cares how you would rule this planet if you had a say in its future.

You watch the Houses mingle about. You watch them laugh and dance. You watch them watch your husband. You watch them watch you. You watch the wheels turn in their alcohol-addled brains. You roll your eyes at what he doesn’t see.

Ungluing yourself from your designated spot, you step up the staircase that leads to the Harkonnen men, your husband and his brother flanking the throne the Baron sits upon. You don’t think to speak to any of them; you didn’t break away from your assigned location for words. Instead, for all to see, you reach up to cup Feyd’s cheek and turn his head toward you for the first kiss since the day of your wedding. A gentle brush of lips. A buzz more engulfing than any drink could offer.

He freezes, and when you pull back his lips are still parted. His eyes open slowly and he stares down at you in awed confusion. How he doesn’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done is just short of bewildering, but it doesn’t seem to click.

“You–”

“I’m going to retire for the night,” you tell him. You’ve been at this party long enough, and the guests have now seen what they needed to see. Not to mention, their tipsy state means they’ll soon forget any thoughts they have about you until morning. They’ll stop searching for your presence.

You don’t wait for your husband’s nod of approval. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t care where you are at any given time anyway, so you descend the staircase and exit the grand room into the hall that leads to your bedroom.

The echo of footsteps follows and you’re bold enough to believe it could be Feyd before a blade is pressed against your throat from behind. For a moment, you think it still might be your husband—retaliation for the kiss that re-sparked a feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since you married him—but the voice in your ear is feminine.

“He killed my husband, my Lady,” the voice says, and you instantly remember her. It’s been two months but nothing could make you forget the look in her eyes. “I want my sons.”

You swallow hard. The blade nicks your throat from the additional force. A droplet trickles down your neck. “I can’t return your sons to you,” you tell her, at the same time questioning how she infiltrated such a secure place. But you suppose with the number of guests, slipping in would not have been the most difficult of challenges.

You wince at the deepening cut. Your heartbeat quickens, doing little to aid in stopping the blood seeping from your wound. “You’re the na-Baronness.”

“I have little power here.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, her words bouncing off the walls. “I want my boys,” and you think now she’s crying. Her tone alters. Something catches in her throat. “What’s happened to them?”

You don't wish to tell her, but you’re in no position to deny her requests. “They’re alive and well,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie. The Baron prefers strong, well-fed fighters—the duels last longer that way.

“I want them back!”

“As much as I would like to, I cannot give them back to you. It’s not my decision.”

“Then I’ll take you from him,” she spits. “The way he took mine.”

You must’ve put on a grander show than you expected with that kiss because she seems to fully believe that your death would matter to him. But you know he won’t blink an eye. He might even thank her. Reward her by reuniting her with her sons, though unlikely.

“He won’t care,” you tell her.

“I have seen him, my Lady. He will care,” she says, and you don’t know how she could possibly come to that conclusion or why. It’s not as if the people of Giedi Prime sense a kind capability from the Harkonnens. “He will–”

She chokes. The blade trembles then drops from your neck. You quickly glance down to find Feyd’s knife deep in her side.

Many things are a mystery to you in that moment. Why he bothered to leave the party; why he came down this hall of all halls, especially when his room resides in another; and why he pierced her side rather than go for the neck, which would have instantly ended her. His mistake. An uncharacteristic mistake.

The woman whips around, freeing you, and you stumble out of reach. They’re a blur of battling bodies as you get your footing, but then it catches up with you—the pain. Your hand goes to your neck and you make a little noise at the sting of your fresh wound. Your mistake.

Feyd looks away from her in search of you for a single second. Not even. A half-second. But the woman is smaller, quicker, and the distraction is enough. Her blade slides into his abdomen. He grunts. You gasp.

He regains his focus and, by her hair, he rips her head back to expose her throat and shoves the blade through her neck. Blood spurts across his chest as he removes the weapon, and she collapses to her knees before the rest of her body flops to the floor.

Feyd takes a shaky step back, staring down at the blade in his torso. He drops his knife and his hand goes to the hilt of the other.

“No, don’t!” you yell, but you’re too late. He jerks the blade out and it clatters on the ground. His palm does nothing to stop the flow of crimson.

Rushing to him, you fall to the floor as he does. You press your hands on top of his to keep the pressure but it’s useless. “Don’t you know anything?” you mutter. “You should’ve kept the damn thing in.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles. Then his other hand raises and lands on top of yours. You think he’s trying to add more pressure, but his touch is gentle. His thumb runs over your knuckles.

“It’s alright,” he says, and you’ve never heard his voice so devoid of depth and strength.

“No, it’s not,” you retort, irritated.

“You still hate me?”

“Shut up!” you snap. “Help!” Yanking the black chiffon sleeve off your gown, it tears free and you ball the material to shove it against his wound. “Help!”

Guards burst through the doors and run to you. You sigh with relief, but when you look down, your husband is paler than you’ve ever seen him.

“Feyd…”

You’re shoved out of the way in a second, flung to the side like a flicked-away ant, and then he’s taken from you. You watch them until he’s out of view. When you glance down at your hands, they’re stained with him.

—

They bandaged your neck in mere minutes and you find it aggrivating that they couldn’t work as efficiently on him. You’ve been dead silent for hours now, expecting to hear screams of pain as they stitch him back together, but then you remember he’s a glutton for pain. He’s probably enjoying it, the sick bastard. But you’re not enjoying it—the waiting, the limbo. It’s torturous.

You’ve never seen him hurt before. You’ve witnessed his skills in the arena, and not once in your seven months of marriage has someone gotten a decent slash on him.

Guilt hits you hard as you recall that it’s your fault. That woman was skilled as well—you suppose she would be if she was raised to live where she did—but if you hadn’t made that noise, if you hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve been dead before she could do her damage. This wouldn’t have happened.

Just then, a knock comes at your door. You speak for them to enter and a guard peeks into your room. “My Lady…” he says, and you pray you’re not about to be told your husband didn’t survive a single stab wound. “You can come with me.”

You don’t wait around for more. You hop to your feet and quickly follow through hall after hall until you’re at his room.

“What will I see when I walk in there?” you ask.

“He’s fine, my Lady,” he says, bowing his head to dismiss himself before returning to his post.

Turning the knob, you edge the door open and step inside. The bed is in immediate view, but he’s not in it. He’s not in it and he should be. Not even the covers are pulled back. Maybe the guard misled you. If he were fine, surely he would be resting.

You make your way in further.

“You’re here.”

Your head snaps to your right where he’s leaning against the lone table in his room, a lit orb on the wooden surface illuminating him from behind in a white glow. He’s less pale than he was; what little rosiness he once had returned to his skin.

Clearing your throat, you say, “I was told to come.”

“Because I told them to bring you,” he says.

Your heart pounds at the bareness of his torso, the thickness of his arms as they cross in front of his chest. It pounds in a different way, an off-kilter way, when you notice the dressings wrapped around his waist and the patch of blood that is seeping through three layers of it.

He must see your distraction because he says, “It’s fine.” Your eyes flick back to his. A beat of silence passes between you. You’re unsure how to continue now that he’s seen the concern you have for him. “I suppose you’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you repeat. “What for?”

“I’m alive.”

Your jaw drops ever so slightly. You recover as best you can before you say, “Feyd, I don’t want you to—I’ve never wanted you to–”

He holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m going to listen to you.”

Your brow pinches. Why did he silence you, then? “Listen to me about what?”

He takes a deep breath, an action that lifts his shoulders and has them falling heavily back down. His eyes penetrate you as they’ve always done, but the iciness is gone. “I don’t care if the people I hurt want to kill me,” he starts. “But she didn’t come to kill me; she came to hurt me by killing you. So I will listen to your thoughts when it comes to dealing with matters like that one.” He pauses, expecting a response, but you don’t quite know what to give him, so he continues. “Your voice will make fewer enemies.”

“You care about making enemies?” Since when would a Harkonnen ever care about such a thing? Especially when they are known for doing that thing so well.

“I care when they come after my wife,” he says. Pushing off the table, he leisurely steps toward you. You’re stuck to your spot. “The men of my House do not have a history of caring about their wives. They’ve never cared if their actions bring them harm, and yet, people have used our wives as pawns for revenge for centuries. Many have died to prove a point. I’m not going to let you be one of them.”

He stops only to not collide with your body. You have to look up to maintain eye contact, and when you do, his breath brushes over your lips. “Why didn’t you kill her when you could have? You stabbed her in the side. You avoided vital organs.”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill her if I didn’t have to,” he says. “So I didn’t kill her…until I had to.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t know he was capable of such restraint. You didn’t know he had enough fragments of a heart to glue together to keep him from doing exactly as he pleases.

His hand lands on your hip and his thumb begins to rub up and down over the curve of it. He hasn’t touched you…ever. In fact, he’s seemed over the months to deliberately avoid it. Like your skin would burn him even through the fabric of your gowns. Anytime it looked like he would try, he’d pull back before flesh grazed flesh.

“You hadn’t kissed me since we married,” he says, so gentle in that low voice that it’s practically a whisper. It doesn’t make the heat of his breath any less intense against your skin.

“People were watching too intensely,” you inform him. “They were thinking something was wrong between us, I could tell, and I didn’t want to give them that power over you.”

“So that was it, then?” he asks. “That’s the only reason you did it?”

“That’s–” you swallow, debating whether or not to say it, to give him more.

“What?”

“That’s the reason I did it,” you decide to tell him, and his face shifts; his features alter in a manner you’ve never seen. He looks down to his feet. He nods and his touch disappears, and now you feel cold and you hate it. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to do it.”

He freezes as he did before. For a moment, his chest stops rising and falling with expected breaths. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he raises his head.

You can’t stop staring, even though your brain is telling you to get ahold of yourself. His mouth is so plush. You’ve always known it. It’s always done something to you. And whatever that something is, it’s more potent now that he’s so close and you can see his lips glistening in the low light.

“Will you do it again?” he asks.

Again? You didn’t imagine he wanted you to do it the first time, or the second. The first was an obligation. The second was not exactly mutually agreed upon. But as he stands in front of you, asking, you can’t bring yourself to say no. You don’t want to say no. So you say yes, and you inch up on your toes until your lips meet his.

Immediately, he’s yanking your body flush against his. His hand goes into your hair, and he parts his lips so they can better lock with yours. He’s good at this, and you don’t want to think about why, can’t think about why without a knot of jealousy settling in your gut that only dissipates when those hands travel down your body to the back of your thighs. You’re in the air, your legs wrapped around his waist, your lips still sealed for one second more before your back hits the mattress and he’s on top of you with his leg shoving between yours, nudging your thighs open for him.

You don’t know the exact moment it happens, but your skirts are up to your waist and he’s inside of you, moving in and out, kissing your neck and pulling gasps from your throat, and it feels right, good, like pieces falling together. A bit of you feels guilty for that. That you can know what he’s done to people and still want to feel the pleasure of every inch that he’s giving you. You’re selfish, maybe that’s it. Maybe you’ve always been and you didn’t know it. You can’t bring yourself to care as he makes those deep noises in your ear and stains your insides.

After you’re sated, you lay there for a while with him in your arms and his arms wrapped around your waist. His head rests on your chest. You think about the things you’ve done to each other in the course of an hour and it brings a blush to your cheeks. You think about how you can’t go back and that you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this from the beginning, despite what he’s done. You expected it when you married him only to be sorely disappointed at his lack, or what appeared as a lack, of interest. You’re definitely selfish, at least when it comes to him. But you refuse to be when it comes to other matters.

“I want something from you,” you say. He hums, content. “I want us to take in that woman's boys.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #dune 2

586 notes · View notes

remlionheart · 8 months ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

#rem writes #bsd dazai #dazai smut #dazai x fem reader #dazai osamu #soukoku #bsd smut #osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai headcanons #bsd headcanons #dazai fluff

2K notes · View notes

aegis-noctua · 23 days ago

Text

Allow me to finally break and enter this fandom with my humble offering!

I just wanted to do something with them all being good friends. Love, love, love their group dynamic! Also I have like 20+ pages worth of silly little dialogs that I want to turn into equally silly little comics, so hopefully I'll be sticking around.

Aaand a lot of rambling under the cut.

I'm an avid reader, you see. I generally don't watch things (sometimes not in literal years), it's just not something I do. So when at the beginning of fall tumblr exploded with outrage over the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation, my first thought genuinely was "what a stupid f*cking name" and then immediately "people are overreacting, it's just a series, nothing is worth that much of a fuss". But after observing for some time from a safe distance I eventually grew curious. I thought I knew what I was getting into.

(I had no bloody idea)

Well. Here I am now, almost four months of obsession later, eating my words with shards of glass and no sign of reaching the bottom of this cursed rabbit hole. I've been drawing more than ever and for the first time seriously thinking about honing my artistic skills. I have some drafts for at least two stories, and even though I'm a little hesitant to write (not being a native and all), I'm pretty determined to give it a go anyway. I tend to avoid social media and digital public spaces in general, but #SaveDeadBoyDetectives campaign changed that as well. To my great regret, there is not much I can do or participate in, so I settled for trying to be supportive of all the lovely people who created probably the safest and most comfortable online space I've ever encountered. I'm not as good as Charles at keeping spirits up, but damn I wanna try.

It honestly feels like if I had something like dbda growing up, I'd turn out at least 40% less traumatized as a person. It grew to mean so much so quickly. It's like some moments were plucked right out of my life and then embedded in the show. I felt (and still feel) so seen, and understood, and reassured, and safe, and hopeful, and accepted when watching (pretty much everybody's but especially) Edwin's side of the story. It's so much more than "just a series", and these Dead Boys deserve every good word that's being said about them.

Okay, I'm wrapping it up now, and the only thing left to say is thank you to all the people who put their effort into keeping this wonderful story alive and making the fandom so friendly and welcoming.

(right now I'm working on a big Christmas comic that I definitely won't be able to finish in time, but it will appear here at some point)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #save dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #fanart #my art

549 notes · View notes

yaseraphine · 2 months ago

Text

pick a card - who is crushing on you ?

This is a reading I did back in April of this year. I made it with the energy of the Taurus new moon. Hope it resonates <3

PILE SELECTION :

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

/!\ DISCLAIMER /!\ (for all the delulus - here's your anti-delulu pill)

A tarot reading is supposed to give guidance based on your current energies, it is NEVER a replacement for therapy. It shouldn't dictate your life choices but more so guide you while making the choices. At the end of the day, you are the master of your soul and destiny. Remember that you have all the power and the free will to take the actions you want. Use discernment . Also remember : energies shift, a reading might resonate with you today but not tomorrow.

PILE 1

song - Ah W Noss by Nancy Ajram

Possible astrological placements :

Heavy Aquarius energy, heavy air and earth energy, Sun moon or mercury in aquarius (especially moon); Sun in Taurus, Venus in Aries, Mars in Aquarius / Aries, Capricorn rising ; Taurus, Aquarius and Aries personal planets; Chiron in the 4th house / the 10th house

Physical appearance : slightly under 6 ft , dark eye color, probably has eyebags or , looks mad 24/7, straight dark brown hair or jet black hair ; appears judgmental asf. might be skinny but still kind of muscular, has a visible scar on their face around their eyebrows or eyes or lips,

They dress casually , I see a lot of sportswear, neutral color, black, gray, white and maybe beige or marine blue

Tarot cards : 9 of swords, 10 of Pentacles, The Magician, The Tower, King of Pentacles, 3 of swords, Page of Pentacles, Ace of swords

MBTI : INTJ, INFJ, ISTJ

Who is this person ?

HUGE overthinker, career oriented, hard worker, well known in their field but prefer to work in the shadows, top grader, highly critical of themself and of other people, plans everything, a mastermind, ambitious, sharp mind, introvert, lowkey anti-social, overtly sensitive, might be in college, pursuing a master's degree; might be their last year as an undergrad, anxiety disorder, really anxious and sensitive to the outside world, a loner, might just hangout with 3 people max and they're always seeing together in the hallways or in the school's library, intimidating exterior, people are scared to approach them because they think they will disturb their peace lmao, deep voice, barely speaks, fierceful look, don't talk much, undercover hopeless romantic, might watch a lot of rom-com or romance K-dramas, might read slice of life romance oriented manhwas , watches anime, probably went on several friends trips to tokyo, kyoto, and bangkok with his friends.

Probably has a lot of family problems, is the "man of the family", has a part time job either as a waiter or something related to their field of study.

During lectures, either sits in the front or at the far back (to be in peace lol) and is really concentrated on the class, isn’t scared to asked questions even when there are a hundred students in the amphitheater looking at them

Might be a bit conservative or just religious, possibly muslim

might be a minimalist, a digital minimalist (James Scholz vibes)

Ethnicities/ Race : korean, pakistani, chinese, vietnamese, indian, afghan,arabic, north african,...

The effect you have on them ?

This crush shocked them to their core. As they were on their way to become the King of Pentacles, you came and made all their plans crumble.

I feel like love is their blind spot and whenever they develop some type of feelings for people everything around them breaks down. They might have Venus in the 6th house or Venus in the 8th house, or Pluto might be aspecting their venus on their natal chart. I feel like they might have had a traumatic love experience when they were in middle school/ freshman year of highschool that left them deeply hurt and created deep emotional wounds. They’re still traumatized from this experience and them having a crush on you is sadly reopening their wounds and it’s obviously so triggering. Despite the fact that this crush is hurting them, they know it’s also healing them in a way ? Like their heart is not completely dead and in shambles and will not be forever. I am hearing "Your heart is broken , not permanently shattered.”

How do you appear to them ? How do they see you ?

You appear peaceful to them. You might be an INFJ, ENFJ , INTP, ISFP or ISFJ.

You might have Virgo, Pisces or Libra placements (sun, moon, mercury, venus, rising,..). You could have 3rd/9th house placements, Moon in the 3rd or 4th house. You could be a scorpio or capricorn rising. You probably have 1st house, 6th house and 8th house synastry with them. (even 12th house for some)

You might have at some point awkwardly smiled at them in the school halls or library and it left a mark on them. They probably think about it often. Whenever they think about you, they can feel themselves calming down, slowing down. They’re probably really busy and therefore always stressed out but when you cross their mind, they can feel the stress disappearing for a short period of time.

They see you as a more relaxed version of themselves. They see you as being someone who is content with being alone. You could be a popular loner like you’re really well liked but you still enjoy doing your own thing. You probably are similar to them and they see that. They see the mirroring of you both. You have a really similar energy as this person and they sense it. But you’re much more confident, or content and laid-back/ chill than them and I think they kind of envy you for that.

You’re represented by the 9 of pentacles while they’re represented by the 10 of pentacles on their way to become a King of pentacles. Despite the fact that you’re “behind” them in the race of life, you don’t seem to be freaking out about it. Instead, they see you taking it easy. You’re taking your time because you have this deep trust in the Universe that everything happens in time and for a reason. They don’t understand how you’re able to just go with the flow while also having somewhat of a plan and a pretty clear direction on where your life is headed.

PILE 2 (slight 18+ stuff)

song - GOOD LOYAL THOTS by Odetari / EYES ON ME by Asteria

Possible astrological placements :

Cancer rising for men, Virgo risings for woman/non-binary, Venus in Libra, Venus in Aquarius, Mercury in Libra, Moon in Pisces/Scorpio/Cancer, Moon in Virgo, 5th house placements, 7th house placements, the asteroid lilith (1181) could be prominent/ significant in their chart. 10th/4th house placements. Libra, Sagittarius and Cancer placements. Could be born in late November.

Physical appearance : if it’s a man : looks like those bad boys in these dark romance novels, 2019 e-boy/girl/enby vibes, angelic eyes, looks kind of innocent in a way, similar eyes to troye sivan (not necessarily the colour but just the energy they give). No matter their gender, they just look really androgenous, really nice and warm smile, rodrick heffley vibes, carrington vibes (the content creator)

Ethnicity/ race : If this person identifies themselves as male then they might be half white half latino (esp mexican) or fully white (i am getting english, american or even german some italian blood even). If not, then they could be any ethnicities honestly but I am heavily picking up on White (Eastern Europe), American. They could look really racially ambigous. Could be half asian (filipino or thai/ viet heavy) and white (icelandic, german, eastern europe in general)

Tarot cards : 4 of swords, 2 of Wands, Queen of Cups, 2 of Cups, The Emperor, 7 of pentacles, 10 of swords, Ace of Wands

MBTI : this one is hard to pick up one exactly the energy is a bit too “mutable” in a way but I’d say surely an IXXP or EXXJ type. Picking up especially on INTP, ISTP, ENFJ or ENTJ

Who is this person ?

Could be any ethnicities honestly, any gender, probably non-binary, trans, or just do not label themselves

Activist for LGBTQ+ rights, if they’re a man probably bisexual, feminist, anti-specist, probably anarchist > for sure politically inclined and left winged, even far left or marxist for some

Might enjoy philosophy, history, metaphysics, poetry, travelling

In their 20s, probably really young / I am getting 17/18/19 years old, if they go to college they probably are really popular on campus.

Might play the guitar, the drums, listen to indie music, indie rock, hyper pop, Artsy, paint their nails black, nails often painted with chipped nail polish, probably enjoys painting, cinema

They LOOOVE getting attention, compliments, being the center of attention. They are probably really charismatic and a lot of people tend to crush on them and they cling to them/ get addicted to their energy/aura. They’re really magnetic, a true charmer, a smooth operator, a smooth talker. I’ll be fully honest though , they are probably in their fuckboy/girl/enby era. Probably sleeps around, goes to parties every week. They’re probably always surrounded by women or generally speaking feminine energies LOOOVE them like they get addicted to them (especially true if they’re a man). Probably a womanizer too.

People might assume that they’re reckless and only there for a good time, not a long time. They are kind of the talk of the town. People see them as smart, artistic. People consistantly gossip about them and their every move, might also make terrible and false assumptions on them. Despite their f*ckboy/girl/enby traits they are deep down really sweet and sensitive. They honeslty hope to find their true love one day, they just have some kind of attachment issues that makes it hard for them to trust and settle. For now, I don’t think they're ready to delve into them (the attachment issues) yet. (it’s giving mother wounds and daddy issues lol)

Always attached to messy situationships/ friends with benefits situations, messy breakups, crazy exes, revenge,...

They're really nonchalant, cool dude vibes “you know i am a cool guy you can trust me”; probably thinks they understand women and the “female nature” (HELP-) “I understand women, I understand emotions,..” vibes

Generally don’t really walk the talk lmaoo (they’re kind of a p*ssy that pretends to be tough, too cool for school lol), light skin energy HEAVY, actually really funny and empathetic, really sweet too

The effect you have on them ?

I’ll say it, they’re probably too prideful to come to you lol They’re used to people approaching them first. That's how almost all of their relationships started. They probably are like : I am attracted to pile 2 and I have the situation in control. They will probably come up to me like everyone else does anyways so it’s fine, no need to make the first move (the sagittarian ego lord -). They probably like you because they think you’re naive, innocent and their paternalistic/ manspreading tendencies might tickle a bit for that reason. They assume you’re some kind of pure angel, and that you don’t know much about the world. They see you as a Page of Cups or Queen of Cups when really you are a High Priestess. You just pretend to be clueless/ or not as perceptive to protect your peace. They want to protect you and take you to outside world. Take you to art exhibitions, while they manspread their knowledge about a specific art movement and they imagine you being impressed by how perceptive and educated they are. (they don't have to be a man to manspread just to clarify lol). To be honest, they have a deep desire for recognition and it shows in what they imagine doing with you.

Honestly, they underestimate you quite a bit. You’re so much smarter than you appear to be .

I have a hard time knowing what kind of effect you have on them since they seem so self focused. You just feed their desire to provide and protect. This desire might come from some kind of daddy issues or complicated relationship with their masculinity/masculine side.

How do you appear to them ? How do they see you ? +18 stuff here

As I said above, they see you as a "princess" to be saved, an angel. They probably think you’re too pure for this world, that you’re "vanilla", innocent. They really like your body. They probably scrutinize it a lot looking at every curve. They love your chest area and your thighs/butt. Honestly, it’s getting really sexual lol They probably have a lot of dirty thoughts about you, dominating you but not in a mean way, really soft dom vibes. They would love to see you in pink/white lacy lingerie / really sweet lolita vibes (the japanese style). I won’t elaborate further on the 18+ description but just know they're really imaginative lol They also see you as really sweet and caring . They think you’re really selfless and empathetic. In their eyes, you seem to be really emotionally intelligent. If you’re hyper feminine or petite THEY LOVE IT.

PILE 3

song - Feelin' Myself by will.i.am ft. Miley Cyrus, Wiz Khalifa, French Montana, DJ Mustard / French Montana's verse especially

/!\ While tapping with the energy, your resistance to this person was HEAVY. You probably know exactly who this person is and you probably are annoyed that they seem to follow you everywhere, even in a random tarot reading on Tumblr lmaoo I am so sorry for you. This reading could trigger you, annoy you or make your eyes roll, just to warn you.

Possible astrological placements : Libra rising, Leo rising, Sun, Moon, Venus and/or Mars in Leo, probably have many placements between the first and the 5th house, heavy on the 1st house, 3rd house and 2nd house, Gemini Sun or Venus, Mercury, cancer placements

Physical appearance : probably dresses like a 2013/2014 rapper (lmaoo sorryy guys), ages - 25 / but strong late 30s early 40s, millennial loser vibes (help-), ear piercing, eyebrow arch piercing, likes to wear Grillz, they’re probably not very tall like around 1m69 to 1m76 or something (5,5 ft, 5.7 ft). They could be skinny or just slim.

Ethnicity/ race : I know the moodboard only showcases black men, but I am picking up they could just as well be asian or White, arabic,...

Tarot cards : 3 of cups, The Emperor, 7 of Pentacles, The Sun, 4 of Pentacles,

MBTI : ESFP, ESFJ, ENFP, ENTP,

Who is this person ?

Their name could start with a P, Patrick, Peter, could have a similar vibe to Peter Kavinsky from To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before for some.

For a minority of you, they are still a student in college probably majoring in Business or economy. Probably skips many lectures, classes.

For most of you though, they are a real grown adult, who has taxes to pay and works either part time or full time at the same job as you.

You could work at a store like a 7/11 or just stores that you find in gas stations, or something like that.

You might meet them, see them at work and you probably find them annoying as hell. You think they’re childish and that they should grow tf up. They’re probably older than you which makes their immature behavior even more embarrassing. You probably see them as a scrub or a manchild (ain’t shit by doja at is coming up they really get on your nerves lmaoo). They probably hit on you the first day at your job and they never really stopped

Always comes at work late, prefers to have fun, doesn’t like having too many responsibilities, doesn’t like rigidity, always cracking a joke, the clown of the class vibes, super extraverted, loud, really good on the dancefloor, might go to the club every week, doesn’t have much going on in their life, does the bare minimum at work, unstable financially, doesn’t have any career ambition, culture vultures, they remind me of the Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber lightskin era, they love alcohol, hennessy, malibu,..

Really popular in your local community, probably has at least 500 followers on insta but I am picking it’s more than that like 1500 and plus, super active on social media, probably has snapchat, posts stories almost on a daily basis, they are known at work to crack jokes, loves 90s/old school rap, gangsta rap, 90’s RnB, jodeci, Boys II Men, probably a sneakerhead, that’s random but they might be attracted to milfs or women with character lmaoo, a millennial that hangs out with gen zers (help-), eternal teenage boy type of energy, childlike spirit, nice, really likeable, social butterfly, you just can’t hate them, might be the type of person to sing out loud randomly.

The effect you have on them ?

They like you. They like the fact that you are hard to get. They love the chase. I think they’re attracted to the duality of your respective personalities. It’s probably an opposites attract type of situation in their head. They like your black cat energy. The effect you have on them is that you just entertain them in a way. They like the chase, the adrenaline that comes with it and since you’re guarded they see it as a good challenge.

How do you appear to them ? How do they see you ?

You might be an ISTJ, or INTJ. You might have Capricorn, Aquarius, Virgo or Taurus placements. You might be a Taurus rising. I am picking up too that you hate loud people and attention seekers. You probably don’t like dependent and clingy people too. You probably have a really cutthroat and no bullshit energy that they love (and lowkey find amusing they like to annoy you but in a flirty way that’s just the way they flirt I think). They think you’re too serious for your own good. You’re probably working part time while you’re still in college and they think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. They think you should slow down and just enjoy the moment, live in the moment and let loose. They think you smell good, always look clean and put together. They see you as high maintenance. You’re probably like the high maintenance era of Saweetie. Icy Grl vibes (go to check the music video of this song this might be your exact vibes). They see you as a diva but not in a derogatory sense, they actually like it. It’s giving Mariah Carey and Eminem's dynamic lol (enemies to lovers orr 👀 (i know you just gave me the biggest bombastic side eye lmaoo sorry)). “Boy why are you so obsessed with me?” but you’re like really mad and fed up lmaoo

Literally you : you're giving goddess energy ✨ go get your bag sis as you should the dusties don't even deserve to breath the same air as you period.💅

remember guys : stay blessed <3 (and happy spooky season hehe best season of the year anyone who disagrees you can argue with the wall)

#pick a pile #pick a card #pac tarot #pick a photo #pick a card reading #pile 2 #pile 3 #pac reading #crush #pick a card crush #who is crushing on you ?#love reading #divination #pac love reading #pick a card love #pick a card reading love

589 notes · View notes

riekirei · 8 months ago

Text

fan favorite— nishimura riki

you and riki, the iconic duo, were inseparable. your friendship was so loved in public, but it was something more in private.

pairing: idol!riki x 8th member!fmr | genre(s): fluff | content/warning: they kiss like once, riki teases reader and vice versa

[requested]

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: been insanely inactive but wtv, here’s something i wrote recently. hope u enjoy reading this! likes n reblogs r highly appreciated. not proofread

you step out of the van with the beaming sun rays hitting your face, the smell of the easing ocean breeze, and the sounds of the crashing waves filling the area. you pull your digital camera out of your bag that hung just by your shoulder. you try taking a picture of the bright summer sun that shined that day, but it was way too bright for you to see. you squint your eyes to the sun’s light that nearly blinded you when a hand’s shadow appeared from behind, hovering over your eyes to shield it from the light. it was riki, he had just gotten out of the van after you. “blinding lights, blinding lights~” (blind - enhypen) he sang as he watched you take pictures with the help of his hand preventing the sun from glaring at you. “hey!! since when have you gone down the car?” you asked him, wondering how fast he’d came as you expected him to take longer.

you were at a beach for your new album’s concept photos, just like dimension dilemma (i guess it’s associated with the group’s storyline) and the makeup artists and stylists had just fixed your hair and makeup in the van before arriving at the beach. riki was up next to get his hair and makeup done, but he apparently was done? “did they not do your makeup or something?” you added onto your question from earlier. “they didn’t do my hair. probably the style they wanted for this album was something like this” riki replied. “you look good either way sooo” you told him, tucking his dark hair into his ear.

just a moment after, a camera panned towards the place you and riki stood. it was the staff shooting behind the scenes content for them to post on the official youtube channel. you snap out of the conversation you were previously having with riki and face the camera lens that was right in front of you. “hello engene!! today we’re at the beach and we’ll be taking some photos for our upcoming album�� you say, making your way through the hot sand, towards the shore. riki follows shortly behind you. the camera films the both of you walking before you come across an area with countless seashells, laid out on the ground. it was quite a rough surface to be walking on so as you stepped on it, you tripped, slightly slipping your body forward. just as you were about to fall, riki’s grabbed your wrist and made sure to carefully support the other side of your torso from hitting the ground. he helped you get on your feet again. “guys y/n’s feeling silly” he says to the camera, laughing at what just happened. “engene, it was ni-ki’s fault, right? he pushed me” (he didn’t hsjahs) you jokingly said. “he pushed me!!!” you added. “nahhh, maybe its just a skill issue to be honest” he told you as you two bickered on camera for the nth time.

you two found yourselves before the shore, watching the still water reflect the sky as waves came in. you went on your knees to draw doodles and words on the damp white sand. you drew a huge heart with the word ‘engene’ written in the middle. the camera captured the pretty sight before it shifted to what riki was doing. he was standing right where the waves met the shore, the water smoothly gliding on the sand. riki scooped some wet sand, combining it with some drier sand to create a ball. he shaped it with the palms of his hand and set them down to form a pile of multiple sand balls.

“what’s tha-“ you questioned riki before he picked one up and threw one at you. the firm sand ball flew its way towards you, crumbling to pieces as it came into contact with your body. riki bursts out laughing as he sees the mundane look you had on your face. “ha ha, ni-ki. you’re like so funny!” you say sarcastically. you try holding your laughter as you watched riki snicker. he walked back towards the other direction to form more sand balls.

while he wasn’t looking, you bent down over, grabbing a portion of sand that was laid out on the beach. you compressed the grains of sand together to form a sand ball yourself.

“ni-ki!! look over here!!” you called out, having a plan in mind. just as he turned in your direction, you projected the sand ball right at him, hitting him on his arm. “HEY” riki shouted.

oh you knew you were done for. like deadass, you were DONE for.

you quickly sprinted away from riki as he chased you across the beach. you stepped into the shallow water, trying to catch a hold of your breath while feeling the cool, relaxing sensation the flowing water had that came in contact with your feet. riki had finally caught up, stepping into the water as well. he wrapped his arms around you, tightly embracing you. “try escaping me now” riki said. “NI-KIII, LET ME GOO!!!” you exclaimed, swinging your body from left to right, attempting to escape him.

you extended your arm, reaching for riki’s waist. you begun tickling him as you two giggle. he uncontrollably laughed at the tickle he felt. he tries pushing you off of him when you playfully nudge him too, not knowing how strong you had pushed him.

riki fell into the water, getting his outfit wet. “YOU THINK I’M THE ONLY ONE FALLING IN?” he said with a big grin on his face. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down as you made a splash, landing right next to him. you two sat there and died laughing at what had happened. all this bantering was caught on camera for ENGENEs to watch. they adored the bond you and riki had. they’d make edits, compilations, and several posts about ‘y/n-ki’ and the endearing moments you two had.

you got up, slowly running away from riki who still hadn’t gotten up yet. “Y/N HELP ME UP, I CAN’T- Y/N!!” riki yelled. you looked back and tittered at the sight of riki struggling to get up. “hmmmm what about…. no!” you reply. “OKAY SO YOU DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE” he responded in a sulky tone. he crossed his arms and pouted his lips. “OKAY!!! I GUESS-“ riki continued before you ran towards his direction, finally giving in and helping the poor boy up. “I’LL HELP YOU UP, OKAY? RELAX PRINCESS ARIEL” you teased riki. “whatever, bro” he said, jokingly giving you a side eye.

the sun set as you and riki spent time with each other at the beach, along with the other members. the cameras cut and the staff called it a day, allowing you all to relax and clear your heads before getting back onto the ride home. you both walked a distance far enough for no one to be able to catch sight of you two. you and riki sat on the sand, feet buried in it. you rested your head on his shoulder while you two stare into the horizon before you. “it’s almost just as pretty as you” riki said as he let out a chuckle. “really?” you reply, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. “mhm” he said, slightly nodding his head. you smiled and leaned in to give him a peck on the lips.

the chemistry between the two of you was good, maybe a lil too good. and the fan favorite duo were great friends on and off cam, maybe a lil more than friends too.

744 notes · View notes

artificial-transmutations · 11 months ago

Text

ATArena

Alexander's phone dinged with a notification, just as he left the exam. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and he was still talking with a few other students, so, naturally, he ignored the unexpected noise. Even though Alexander was certainly a digital native, he found it rude to check his phone while in company of others. He didn't particularly enjoy his current company: He found Christopher the guy that was currently bragging about how easy the exam was slightly annoying, but that wasn't a reason not to show good manners.

Only after their ways split, Alexander unlocked his phone and saw the notification: "Your watched App, ATArena, is now available."

ATArena? Alexander didn't remember he had watched an app with that name. Still, the notification seemed genuine and lead him to the app marketplace where he could initiate the download. The description was sparse: "An epic battle with a revolutionary matchmaking algorithm that will extend into real life!"

That sounded like an AR game of some sort. Alexander had enjoyed the big Pokeman Run hype some years ago and certainly didn't mind giving this app a try.

When he opened the app for the first time, it asked him for the usual: His real name as well as his nickname. Alexander put in the same for the latter that he used everywhere: Lex_88. A short busy spinner appeared and finally, a message box greeted him:

"Welcome to ATArena, Lex_88! A suitable opponent has already been found. Connecting now..."

After he tapped "Ok", a chat interface opened:

TopShot joined the game.

TopShot: Hi.

Alexander didn't know how to react exactly. He was socially awkward, but ignoring the unknown other player would be rude. So, he just typed:

Lex_88: Hi.

Before any of them could type anything else, a popup opened:

"Battle available! Tap to play."

Alexander tapped the button and wondered what would happen now. Was this some kind of word puzzle or quiz against each other?

What opened though, was a simple depiction of three six-sided dice. When Alexander tapped them, a roll animation appeared until they settled at 14 eyes in total. Not bad!

"Lex_88 rolled: 14. TopShot rolled: 10. Lex_88 wins!"

The screen changed to a wheel of fortune now, which was already in motion. When it came to a stop, it showed a muscled arm emoji and the sparkling word "Bicep size" appeared on his screen.

Immediately, Alexander felt a weird tingling in his upper arms, accompanied by a tightness in the sleeves of his sweater. He locked his phone and scratched his arms but stopped immediately when his fingers met unexpected resistance. His upper arms seemed to have... swollen? What was happening?

Still on the university campus, Alexander made a dash for the nearest restroom and pulled off his sweater. He could hardly believe his eyes: His biceps had grown *considerably*, straining the seams of the t-shirt he wore underneath. When he moved his arms, the muscles bulged and contracted. It was a surreal feeling for sure. Was that the doing of this game?

Alexander unlocked his phone again saw a new message:

"Challenge! Record a video flexing your guns and upload it to social media!"

When he dismissed the message, he typed a message to his opponent.

Flex_88💪: Holy shit! My arms just grew!

Alexander stopped for a moment. Flex_88💪? That wasn't his nickname. Yet, when he scrolled up, it clearly appeared that way - that was the name saying "Hi." in the message before. It wasn't that far off from his usual nickname, which was... Flex_88💪. What was he even thinking about? That was just his screen name that he used almost everywhere, because of his biceps, obviously. His last message didn't make much sense, though. He added a:

Flex_88💪: I mean, they're pretty big, as always. Never mind!

It didn't feel good to brag, but there didn't seem to be a way to delete the message. But he might as well do the challenge now. It wasn't that unusual for him to post pictures and videos of his arms on social media, so, he recorded a short clip, made sure to crop out his surroundings and his face and sent the video to his LaterGram profile.

Just as he was done, TopShot had answered:

TopShot: Uhm, good for you, dude.

TopShot: Seems like you've won the last game.

Flex_88💪: Yeah, but it was pure luck. I'm sure you're gonna win the next one.

As if on cue, another "Battle available" popup opened. This time, Alexander's roll was pretty bad. The dice showed 2-5-2, bringing him to a meager 9, a bit below the expected value.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 9. TopShot rolled: 9. Tie! Both win!"

Apparently, TopShot wasn't having a very lucky day, either. The wheel turned and showed a drop emoji. Alexander was still thinking about what could be the meaning of the drop, when the word appeared: "Libido".

Libido? So, this was an 18+ game? Still, Alexander felt hot all of a sudden. His cock was stiffing up and he realized that it had been ages since his last jerk-off. Hornyness clouded his mind, when the next popup opened:

"Challenge! Use a pick-up line on someone you fancy."

Alexander was usually way too shy to approach another guy, but in his current situation even thinking about sending someone a pick-up line seemed like a good idea. He could just send that TopShot guy one, he had the advantage that Alexander didn't know him and probably never would meet.

He thought about his options and decided that a classic would be the best choice.

Flex_88💪: You know, my arms aren't the only thing big right now ;-)

It only took a moment for the other player to respond.

SwitchHit: I know what you mean.

SwitchHit sent an image.

Alexander hesitated only a bit before he opened the image. Yep. It was a picture of a tented boxershorts, snapped from a hastily opened pair of pants. Alexander could feel his cock throb. If he wasn't in public... No, he had to restrain himself. Even though he was still horny, which really wasn't unusual for him, he took a breather and tried to fight his boner down. He had just masturbated before he left for class, it was just amazing how needy his cock could be. His phone dinged as he readjusted himself and left the bathroom.

SwitchHit: Looking forward to the next game. I mean it's just dice rolling and stupid challenges, but it's fun.

Even though Alexander agreed, something seemed off. Had SwitchHit changed his screen name? No, didn't seem that way.

"Battle available!"

Alexander immediately rolled his dice and hardly could believe his eyes: three sixes, a solid 18.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 18. SwitchHit rolled: 15. Flex_88💪wins! Critical!"

15 was a pretty good roll, but nothing could beat Alexander's 18. He grinned as the wheel stopped on "Confidence".

"Challenge! Approach a local gym and negotiate a free trial using nothing but your charm and confidence. "

Xander grinned. Yeah, that was an awesome idea. He was originally on his way home, but finally joining a gym was long overdue. Luckily, there was one right on his way. Half an hour later, he had a full two month free trial and also a protein shaker as a gift. It had been easier than Xander had thought.

Suddenly, he remembered the game.

Flex_88💪: Hey SwitchHit, you still there?

SwitchHit: Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to message so much. Sorry!

Xander rolled his eyes. That guy needed to grow some balls. He was just about to reply, when the next battle was available. Xander really had to admit, what SwitchHit said was true: It was kind of fun!

This time, Xander rolled bad: The three dice showed a measly 8 points. Unsurprisingly, SwitchHit won.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 8. SwitchHit rolled: 14. SwitchHit wins!"

Damn, this was the first time Xander lost. The wheel landed on a brain-emoji, and, unsurprisingly, it was labelled with "Smarts".

Xander scratched his head. What did that mean? Would he have some penalty challenge now? He would see soon enough.

"Challenge! Skip reading your usual news or books for the day. Instead, binge-watch a reality TV series."

Xander scratched his head again. Did he really want to do that?

Well, of course he wanted to! That sounded like a fun evening. Why would he read books?! He didn't even own books!

Flex_88💪: Man, those challenges are really ez. I need to watch some TV this evening, not read sum bokshit.

Xander typed the message as he arrived at his apartment. He fixed himself a quick dinner and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV.

SwitchHit: I agree. I have to read some Ovid tonight, which I find rather light literature.

Flex_88💪: Whatev you say, man. Hey, by the way, what's your name?

Flex_88💪: Mine's Xander.

SwitchHit: I don't know, I probably shouldn't share my real name on the internet.

Flex_88💪: Aw, come on. As if I could find out where you live with only your real name.

SwitchHit: ...Right. I'm called Chris.

Flex_88💪: Like Christian? Christopher?

SwitchHit: No, just Chris.

Flex_88💪: K. Hey, that pic was pretty hot back then.

They chatted a bit during the evening and exchanged some more pictures of tented pants. Xander was only half paying attention to the reality show on his screen, as one of his hands was more or less constantly in his pants. Still, it was just friendly teasing, no downright cyber-sex.

Eventually, Xander had finished the season and went to bed. SwitchHit - Chris - had called it a night an hour ago, but he still had to finish the last episodes. Good thing he didn't draw the book shit. That would've taken a week, not an evening.

When Xander woke up the next morning, the next battle was already waiting for him. He rolled the dice as he crawled out of bed, again rolling abyssal. Only six eyes were visible on his dice.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 6. SwitchHit rolled: 10. SwitchHit wins!"

This time, the wheel landed on "Personality". Weird. That was a pretty vague category.

"Challenge! Show someone their place."

Xander raised his eyebrows. What a weird challenge. Anyway, time to for groceries!"

Xander drove over to the store in his old and cheap car. However, when he arrived, another visitor to the gym took the parking spot directly in front of the entrance. What an asshole!

Xander parked and got out of his car, quickly approaching the unsuspecting guy that just stole *his* spot.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing?!"

The man, a young guy with glasses and a bit on the nerdy side, looked up, surprised.

"What's your problem?"

"I'm the problem. Your problem. You just took my parking spot."

"Your spot? Don't be ridiculous."

Xander's hands balled into fists. That guy was really annoying!

"That was my spot, asshole. If you don't get your ass moving, I'll *make* you move."

"Alright, alright, chill down. Geez."

The other guy got in his car and parked in another spot. Xander nodded satisfied. He had shown him. Oh. Right, the challenge.

Entering the building (without moving his car), Xander checked his phone and sent SwitchHit a message:

Tank: Man, people are crazy today. Some asshole took my parking spot and I had to show him.

SwitchHit: Sorry to hear that.

SwitchHit: Did you change your screen name?

Tank: Nope. It's Tank, as it has always been. Because I'm a fricking TANK!

SwitchHit: Yeah. That makes sense.

"Battle available!"

Xander was collecting stuff from the shelves when he rolled the dice in-between. He rolled a solid 14, but Chris beat him by one point.

"Tank rolled: 14. SwitchHit rolled: 15. SwitchHit wins!"

Xander cursed loudly, making a few heads turn in the shop. The wheel turned and finally landed on a heart shape. "Empathy" it read. Another one of those fuzzy words.

"Challenge! Cut ties that hold you back!"

Xander scratched his head. What was that supposed to mean? He really wanted to win this game, so what did he have to do now?

As he thought about this, another message popped up, this time from the chat group with his closest circle of friends, who were planning their next meet-up. If Xander thought about it, he was really annoyed by those guys. They were all nerds and losers who always had shit ideas like board games and stuff. Without a second thought, Xander replied to the group.

Tank: I'm not coming. Those gatherings are a waste of time. Get lost, losers!

With that, he left the group and blocked the numbers of his so called friends. He had better things to do.

"Battle available!"

Like that, for example. Chris, who went by the silly nickname of CuddleBug, was at least a horny bastard like Xander himself. With a tap, he rolled the dice.

"Tank rolled: 12. CuddleBug rolled: 10. Tank wins!"

Oh yeah! The roll wasn't even so great, yet still he won. Xander smiled even broader when the wheel landed on a muscular torso, labelled simply: "Muscles."

In an instant, Xander felt his whole body swell up. No wonder. Axel basically *lived* in the gym. As he looked down, the fabric of his shirt had turned almost transparent with the sudden expansion of his muscles. It wasn't just his torso, of course. Axel didn't skip leg day, so his quads and hamstrings grew to impressive size, too. His shoulders were getting broad and wide, as well, to the point where he had difficulties reaching his back.

"Challenge! Show your gainz, buy a muscle shirt!"

Axel could have slapped his forehead. Why didn't he think of that himself - and sooner? He needed to share that thought.

Tank: Hey Chris, what ya tink? I should get a muscle shirt, huh?

Tank sent an image.

CuddleBug: Omg, yes. That will look awesome. I wish I had muscles like that.

Axel grinned. Right. No wonder that Chris agreed, Axel's muscles were a sight to behold. Good thing he was already in a store. He quickly bought a few muscle shirts, enough to replace his usual wardrobe. After paying for his purchase, Axel put on the new shirt right on the parking lot before squeezing himself into his car.

"Battle available!"

The game was pretty fast-paced. Axel tapped to roll the dice and was pumping his fist, when one after another, all three dice ended up showing a six.

"Tank rolled: 18. CuddleBug rolled: 4. Tank wins! Critical!"

"Ha! Yes!" Axel cheered and the wheel spun until it showed "Dominance".

A surge of excitement and satisfaction rushed through Axel's veins. He felt *good* all of a sudden. And *powerful*.

"Challenge! Assert your dominance! Challenge a gym bro today!"

Axel grinned. Yeah, that was exactly his thing. He needed to get to the gym anyway. That free membership was hard earned. Also, Chri- Kit seemed to like his gains. Time to make some more.

It was still early afternoon, and the gym wasn't packed with visitors yet, when Axel arrived. There were a few regulars, as always. A short dude with a moustache that looked like a wannabe porn star and a big dude with a neckbeard were currently occupying the bench press, while a girl in her 40s did lat pulls.

Confidently and arrogantly, Axel readjusted his half-hard cock and approached the big guy.

"Yo, man. You're pretty buff. But I bet I can still take you easily. Wann wrestle?"

The large dude looked at Axel for a moment. Axel could see a vein on his neck throb.

"You little shit. You think you're better than me, huh? Fine, let's do this."

In the pocket of his gym shorts, Axel could feel his phone vibrate.

"Ha. Lead the way, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

As he followed the big guy to the mats, Axel checked his phone.

"Battle available!"

Great! Before he kicked some ass, he could play some more! While walking, he rolled the dice and scored a 15!

"Tank rolled: 15. CuddleBug rolled: 9. Tank wins!"

He didn't have time to watch the wheel this time, so he didn't notice that it landed on "Stamina." He also didn't see the challenge, which simply read: "Kick some ass!"

The big guy was already waiting for him on the mats, but Axel felt incredibly cocky. This was gonna be easy!

"No rules, no limits, no mercy." Axel said and the other guy nodded.

"That's the way it's gonna be. No mercy, punk."

"Bring it, tubby."

The big guy was the first to charge and he was surprisingly fast for his size. However, his speed and strength were no match for Axel's new found muscles. Even though they wrestled for a few minutes, Axel found himself not even tiring much. Finally, he was able to flip his opponent around and lock him on the ground. He tried to struggle, but Axel held his arms and legs firmly in place.

"Give up, man. You can't win."

The big guy tried to wiggle out of Axel's grip, but to no avail. He could struggle and shout as much as he wanted, but Axel was the one on top.

Finally, the guy gave up and admitted defeat.

"Ha! Loser!" Axel cheered and got up. He had a full boner now, both from the sweaty wrestling as well as from the display of dominance, but he didn't hide it. Instead, he headed to the showers and let Kit know of his triumph on the way.

XxBeastxX: I just *dominated* some fuckin weakass in the gym. Wrestled him down and he was crying and everything.

Kit answered right away.

CuddleBug: You're awesome.

CuddleBug: I wish I could have been in this place.

XxBeastxX: Ha. Course I am.

XxBeastxX: Huh? Whatya mean?

CuddleBug: Nothing. Never mind.

Axel was about to answer, but yet another "Battle available!" message popped up.

This game was seriously addictive! Axel rolled the dice and had a 10, which was decidedly less than what Kit had.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 10. CuddleBug rolled: 11. CuddleBug wins!"

"Damn." Axel said, but the wheel landed on "Generosity." He was almost glad he lost. Otherwise, the challenge would probably have been something like "Donate to the homeless" or some shit. What did the homeless ever do for him?

Instead, the challenge was:

"Challenge! Sell something of sentimental value!"

Huh. Well, Axel didn't really have anything he would consider "sentimental". His old PS2 that he got from his uncle for his 10th birthday was a bit sentimental, but other than that... Oh! His old car would probably qualify.

Axel thought about it. On the one hand, his old car was a piece of shit, and he shouldn't care much about it, but on the other hand... It would be a shame if he would have to say goodbye to his baby. Would it? No, not really. It was a pain to squeeze into it anyway. And if he played his cards right, he would even get some good money for it.

The decision was easy, and after showering, Axel drove to the nearest car dealer. It was a hard bargain, but in the end, he managed to persuade the guy to buy his car. It wasn't a high price, but it was more than what the piece of crap was really worth.

Just as he finished the contract, his phone dinged. It was rude, of course, but he didn't give a flying shit about that and checked his phone. It was from Kit, of course.

TwinkyKit: I just donated some money to the homeless. That felt good!

Axel snorted. Of course, how pathetic.

XxBeastxX: Good. Maybe now they won't be so fucking lazy anymore and work a little.

"Battle available!"

It seemed like the game always interrupted their chats. Well, anyway. He quickly rolled the dice, while the car dealer waited patiently to return his attention to him again. The dice turned out lower than Kit's again and after reading the wheel result and the challenge, Axel looked back up to the car dealer. For a split second, the "Money" challenge was still visible on the screen: "Challenge! Buy a muscle car! You know you want it!"

Damn right he did. Jax had always wanted to have a muscle car. He just never had the money. Bullshit. He never had the balls to take on some debt to buy one.

The car dealer was more than willing to help Jax chose and set up the necessary credit paperwork. He didn't even read this shit and selected a car immediately. A shiny, silver beast with a huge engine. It was a bit pricy, but it was worth it, at least to Jax. After he received the keys, he messaged Kit.

XxBeastxX: While you were busy giving money to some crackheads, I got myself something new. Check this out!

XxBeastxX sent an image.

The first image was the car of course. The second was a dick pic, for good measures. Jax didn't really care that he was still at the car dealer when he lowered his pants for a moment to snap the pic.

TwinkyKit: OMG. You're such a stud.

XxBeastxX: Thanks, Twinky.

XxBeastxX: By the way, show some respect!

He drove back home, feeling great.

At home, the next battle was already available. Jax grinned and rolled the dice. He could hardly believe what he saw: 3 single eyes. He rolled a fucking 3.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 3. TwinkyKit rolled: 3. Tie! Both lose! Critical!"

What a pathetic roll, for both of them!

The wheel landed on "Impulse Control". This was getting interesting. It was true, Jax was notoriously bad at controlling himself. He just bought a new car, on a whim. So whatever challenge was coming his way shouldn't be too hard.

"Challenge! Get that tat!"

Jax didn't think much about it. Sure, why not. He would probably regret it, but that was something future Jax would have to deal with. He started his shiny new car again and drove to a nearby tattoo studio.

When the artist asked what kind of design he wanted, he only thought for a second, before deciding: "A dragon, obviously!"

As the artist started working, he massaged his dick with his other hand, earning him a condescending look from the artist. He couldn't help it though. Kit... Kitty would surely love his new tat.

When he sent a pic later, he was proven right:

TwinkyKit: OMG! That's hot.

TwinkyKit: I wish I had one, too.

TwinkyKit: I mean: Sir.

Jax smiled and was about to type a reply, when another "Battle available!"-message distracted him.

He quickly rolled the dice and grinned at the result: 15! That beat Kittys sorry little ass for sure, and he was right. Kitty had a mere 7 points to show. This time, the wheel landed on "Aggressiveness."

If possible, Jax felt even more powerful and manly. The challenge read "Start a bar fight!" and that was exactly what Jax wanted to do this evening. Well, that or fuck some ass, but really, a good bar fight was probably even better tonight.

He quickly messaged Kitty.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Talk to you tomorrow. Gonna kick some ass now. Think of me when you jerk off tonight, boy!

Kitty responded almost instantly, with a picture of his uncut dick.

TwinkyKit: I will, Sir! Have fun.

Jax drove to the nearest gay bar, a shady joint called "Diesel". The music was loud, and the lights were dim. Jax didn't mind the atmosphere, though, instead, he went straight to the bar and ordered a double shot. He downed the drink and ordered a second. Just as the bartender placed the glass in front of him, he grabbed it and threw the liquor right into the bartender's face.

"The fuck?! What are you doing?!"

"What do you think, asshole?" Jax answered, his voice dangerously calm.

"You can't do this!"

"Yeah, I can. And you're going to shut the fuck up."

With those words, Jax slammed his fist in the bartender's face, who immediately fell to the ground. There had been really no reason for him to punch the bartender, but it had the intended effect: From one moment to the other, there was a barfight in full swing.

Of course, everyone tried to overwhelm Jax, but he fought back with vigor and stamina. Several black eyes and a broken nose on his enemies later, the patrons and the bar's bouncer managed to throw Jax out, but still, Jax had a great time, kicking ass and punching dudes. Before someone could call the cops, Jax went home, happy and content.

When Jax woke up the next morning, he almost didn't notice any bruises anymore. Instead, he grabbed his phone while he was doing his morning piss and checked ATArena. Yep, there was another battle available. Time to see if Kitty was already up.

He rolled the dice and only a minute later, Kitty's results came in. Easy win. Jax had rolled only a ten, but Kitty didn't beat him with his pathetic five. However, Jax laughed out loudly, as he saw the wheel's result: Dick size.

"Challenge! Show your assets!"

*That*, Jax could do. He watched as the cock in his hand grew longer and fatter by the second, instantly forgetting that it had once been smaller. No, Jax always had a big, fat and juicy cock, the biggest, actually. With a few last strokes, Jax sent a pic of his cock, the tip glistening wet.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Check that out. That's what a real cock looks like.

Ass_Crusher🍆 sent an image.

Jax sent several more images of his magnificent rod, both naked and wearing tight underwear. As if there was another kind. For Jax, all underwear was tight.

Finally, Kitty responded.

CrushersToyBoy: Fuck. You're so hot, Sir.

CrushersToyBoy sent an image.

Jax smirked. Kitty's own cock was tiny, especially compared to Jax' equipment. It didn't matter much, though. Kitty didn't need it, he needed to have his ass crushed.

Ass_Crusher🍆: I know, babe. I know. You know what I'll do with it now?

"Battle available!"

God dammit. This was getting annoying.

Jax quickly rolled the dice, scoring the top available score! 18 points! But apparently, Kitty was just as lucky, rolling an 18, too.

"Ass_Crusher🍆 rolled: 18. CrushersToyBoy rolled: 18. Tie! Both win! Critical!"

Jax didn't even need to read the attribute to feel it. It was "Libido, again." His already mostly hard cock surged up, becoming a firm steel pipe in his pre-cum soaked underwear. There were no pants on earth that could hide his constant arousal - on some days, even a firm pair of jeans left nothing to imagination and showed a wet patch where his cock was constantly leaking pre. He was a walking and breathing sex machine and Rex knew it. His name was fitting, too. He was a fucking king among men. And today he was going to breed the fuckable ass of that twink.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Get ready, boy. I'm cumming over and I'm gonna split open that ass of yours.

Rex closed the game and deleted it. There was no point in wasting his time with some stupid mobile game. He got back into his car and revved the engine. Oh yeah. Time to get some ass!

What a great game! I know I wouldn't mind playing if ATArena popped up on my phone, would you?

#male transformation #dumbing down #muscle transformation #mental transformation #corruption

1K notes · View notes