#that my followers hate my art so much they turn into hate followers and use alts to send harassment???

[joffyworld]

Shamura -

They of Knowledge and War

It's hard to remember much these days.

Often it's impossible to remember anything at all,

To recall the finer details and find my way;

It's as if I've been entangled in a darkened red shawl:

I can see beyond the darkness in glimpses of authenticity,

I can reach past the madness and almost touch what has now been repealed.

But there remains a thin veil between myself and the truth;

It feels insurmountable as I fall into my minds' obscurity.

Godly ichor seeps out of the wound naught can yet heal,

I sit there and watch it drip down till they come with more news

Were my past machinations truly mine or those of fate?

It's increasingly difficult to make it back from the fall.

Do I deserve these conditions for living a life full of hate?

I know those who claim to be my siblings don't deserve a life that's so cruel.

Even if I recover what awaits? A world of stability?

Can such a world, with us in it, even be real?

Every day I awake is a veritable who's who.

Did the past-me ever imagine a life of such vulnerability?

Are these the consequences of taking actions guided with zeal?

I see strange faces come and go, they mutter "we love you"

When I gave the order, was I at all even phased?

It seems so out of character, so unusual.

They tell me it was desperation that changed how I behaved;

But would a God of Knowledge really resort to adding to the fire more fuel?

Was it just of us to punish curiosity?

Was it righteous of us to tell our brother to kneel?

It didn't feel correct to leave a sibling askew.

When we plunged the chains through his limbs in this violent atrocity,

Did any of us leave room to heal?

Or had we already broken through the time to heal and break through to you?

Now when I close my eyes I see a void-white gate,

Standing at the end of a long, dark hall.

Traversing the barrier I spy a long-hewn lake,

I bellow loudly to its occupant, but they never hear my call.

I see my voice extend, almost physically, with such velocity.

But it quickly recoils, and is brought to its heel.

It was you whom I had called to,

You, my brother the Lord of Death and magnanimity.

I remember once you heard my voice, I watched it make you reel,

I suppose the voice you least expect is that which has betrayed you.

As I heal slowly all that's left is to ruminate,

Reflect on the ways in which I failed my thrall.

It drives me ever closer to the madness that consumes and degenerates:

Across my mind does it sprawl, a slaughter-hall of the attentive and philosophical.

That which once saw every angle and possibility has ultimately been replaced by this vacant unpredictability.

The madness has caused my brain to slowly allow the crown to congeal.

The crown's influence spreads with its purple-hazed hue,

The cue to allow the crown to finally take responsibility, to be rid of the me that was me and become without humility,

I can feel myself slipping away, until all I can recall is the ordeal;

The ordeal that took you.

I remember walking up to those ivory arches and the cacophony of silence that followed. The wave of the trees from the wind, the exposed roots struggling against the combatant wind at every turn of their opponent.

I remember the darkness filling the air where once there stood nothing, blackened tar swirling with vitriol at every second it hung so loosely in our world. The almost viscous substance that materialised in an instant, and seemed so eager to disappear as quickly as it had come.

I remember the eyes that peered down and gazed upon the windows of my soul with unknowable intent. How they scanned every detail of my form, how they analyzed without repent every single finite piece of me as though I were a piece of discarded art, thrown away by its creator, then remembered and gazed upon once more for its flaws, not its graces.

For long there was silence, glares exchanged and stances readied. Longer still was the time that passed, every second felt an hour, every minute felt a day, yet little passed at all but a matter of minutes in the days stead.

Then it spoke, measured, calm, poised:

"Son of Sun, God of War, God of Knowledge that you are. We beseech you listen closely, for your foes they closely are. They tread and thread within your web so take caution when you spin. The conspiracy lies deep inside, and you are deep within. Illusions of your safety work vice versa with yourself. Take heart in what companions you trust deeply with your wealth. There lies only one within the five that you should dare to question. You mistrust and pray that that's enough but irony's your predilection. There will come a day where you will say, that you had known for better. You will dull the pain with maddened songs that tell of your grief's measure.

Make your choice, They of War, but pray caution when you move. It is time to right your wrongs,

Just make sure your wrongs don't right you."

[koko2unite]

[neverendingford]

.

[yuumei-art]

I've been told that there are rumors about me using AI for my paintings. Please use some common sense, I've been posting on DeviantART since 2003 and sharing full video recordings on Patreon since 2018. If I'm a fake, wouldn't my Patrons have noticed by now? Since AI has been turning artists against each other, accusing each other of using AI, I have no choice but to share of some the Patreon rewards as proof. Here is the 10 full video recordings of me painting A Thousand Skies from scratch

I built the 3D model base for this painting in Sketchup, which you can see here

When AI was at it's infancy, I was very excited to have a new tool to help me make comics. Long time followers will know I struggled with repetitive strain injury that forced my comic making to a crawl. A decade before AI, I was experimenting with 3D backgrounds for comics.

I still remember the hate I got for using 3D models in my comic backgrounds, even though today nobody blinks at other artists doing the same. 3D is now accepted as a tool to help artists create. I even remember hate for being digital instead of traditional.

I tested out painting over AI generated backgrounds a few times in the very early stages of AI. There are a lot of screenshots taken out of context from my Discord where I share how I paint everything with complete transparency.

The only other time I've used AI in my art is for a gag scene in my comic, the full context is my character, Vance, who is a weeb and tech nerd, was objectifying women by seeing them as anime cat girls pasted over AI flower backgrounds.

If I had downloaded a flower stamp brush from ClipStudio and made a similar flower background, nobody would care. But somehow this is not okay even though it fits the theme and joke of the comic?

It's 2AM where I am now so I won't say much else other than I wish people would stop taking my posts out of context. With everything going on in the world, artists should support each other, not make up reasons to hurt each other.

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[missaengg]

Missing You

Day 3 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, established relationship, phone sex, dildo, sex toys, masturbation, pwp Prompts: Phone Sex | "See this? It's going to go inside you." ao3 link here.

You stare morosely at your phone. Rafayel had left for an art exhibition in another city a week ago, and despite knowing that he has an insanely jam-packed schedule, you feel miffed he hasn’t had a chance to call even once during that time. 

Your face lights up when your phone starts ringing, the face of your boyfriend lighting up the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, cutie. Miss me?”

You sigh, leaning back against the sofa. “Tons. When are you getting back?”

“Next week. Thomas has me touring the west side. I think I’ve got an exhibition almost every other day, interviews lined up in between, and gallery parties in the evenings.”

“I love and hate that you’re so busy.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound tinny and flat through the phone speaker. “I hate being away from you for even a day.” 

“Me too…”

“I have a surprise for you to make up for how long I’ll be gone.”

Your ears perk at the word ‘surprise’, bolting up in eager anticipation.

“It should arrive right abooooooout… now.”

The doorbell rings as soon as Rafayel finishes speaking. Curious, you make your way to the door, opening it to a medium sized box on your welcome mat.

“Open it.”

You bring the box inside back to where you were sitting on the couch, ripping open the tape and pulling out the crumpled paper inside to… what appeared to be a dildo? “Um, Rafayel, what is this?”

"See this? It’s a mold of my dick. It's going to go inside you."

You gulp. For some reason, this replica seems much bigger than he is in real life. “Are you sure you didn’t make the dildo bigger? I could’ve sworn you’re not this big.”

“I–” Rafayel pauses, and in the most indignant tone he can muster, utters, “Of course I’m that big. How the hell are you remembering me?” An irritated sigh floats through the speaker. “I’m going to have to remind you just how big I am when I get home… but in the meantime, that’s going to go inside of you.”

“You want me to have sex with a dildo?”

“My dick shaped dildo. And we’re going to have sex using the dildo as a temporary placeholder until I get back.”

You squint your eyes, staring at the smooth, silicone dildo before you, tilting your head at how we would be having sex. “How?”

“Like this.” You can hear the mischievous twinkle in his voice even over the phone. “I kiss you lightly. My hands are on your cheeks, and they make their way down to your neck, over your shoulders, down to your chest, grazing your breasts. Touch yourself lightly there like I’m touching you. What are your nipples doing? Are they hard?”

You blink. Oh. You follow Rafayel’s instructions, lightly grazing your hands across the front of your breasts. Your nipples pucker under your clothing into firm nubs poking through the thin cardigan you’re wearing. “They’re hard. They’re… poking through my sweater.”

“Good, good. Now I’m placing my thumbs on them, applying pressure, rolling them underneath.”

You roll your thumbs over yourself, feeling tingles within your core from the stimulation. “That feels good, Raf.”

“Now give them a pinch for me.”

You squeeze with your pointer and your thumb, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. 

Rafayel groans in response to your gasp. “Are you turned on yet? Getting nice and wet for me?”

��I’m not wet enough.”

“Hm… we’re going to have to fix that then, aren’t we?” You hear him shift on his hotel bed, the covers rustling from his movement. “I slide my hands down your torso – are you wearing a skirt or pants?”

You still when your hands reach the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m wearing a skirt.”

You swear you can hear Rafayel smirk over the phone. “Even better. I slide my hands down over your hips to your thighs until I reach the hem, and then I push the fabric up exposing you to your panties. My fingers–”

“– I’m not wearing any.”  

“...What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat at your admission, and knowing your lovely boyfriend, you imagine his face is turning beet red. When he begins breathing again, his breaths are shallow and rapid, and his voice is strained. “Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

“...iwasthinkingaboutyou…” you mumble into the phone, your own face now a brilliant shade of red mirroring the blush that has likely formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“What?”

“I–” you groan at having to voice this thought out loud, the flush on your face growing even darker, “I was thinking about you!”

A long guttural groan comes through over the speaker. “Naughty cutie,” Rafayel practically hisses. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“Are you hard right now?” 

“Yeah, so hard for you.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” You ask Rafayel tentatively, feeling shy at being this vocally intimate for the first time.

“Of course I am.” 

Rafayel’s groans flood your core, tingles radiating throughout your lower belly, leaving you squirming in your seat. You don’t care that you might stain your couch with your arousal. All you care about at the moment is Rafayel’s desire for you.

“Fuck, play with yourself for me.”

“You mean my clit?” “Yeah. Imagine I’m touching you, and touch yourself for me.”

You press a trembling finger to your clit, rubbing it in a circle, feeling your nerves burn. You close your eyes, imagining it’s Rafayel stroking you. You moan with each pass, the fire in your core growing hotter.

“God, I wish I could see you touching yourself.” Rafayel’s grunting quietly. 

You can barely hear his grunts over the phone under your own moaning, but the sound is only adding to the throbbing growing between your thighs. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” Rafayel croons. “Are you dripping yet?”

You slide your finger through your slick folds, toying with your opening. “Tons. I’m so ready for you.”

“Grab my dick.”

You grasp his dick-shaped dildo in your hand.

“I enter you slowly, sinking in all the way until I’m filling you entirely. Can you feel me?”

“Ngh.” The sensation of his dick filling you leaves you gasping, your walls sucking his replica in. “You’re so big.” You’re panting already, delighted at how much he’s stretching you out.

“God, I can almost feel you.”

“Are you sure you’re really this big normally?”

“Seriously? I’ll remind you just how big I am when I get home, multiple times. Now focus.” Rafayel sulks, his pout reaching you though you’re unable to see the expression on his face. 

You grin wickedly hearing your boyfriend flounder. “Multiple times. You promised.”

“Honestly,” he huffs, his voice strangled on the other end of the line. “I should cancel the rest of this trip and come home right now.”

“But you can’t,” you hum in faux sympathy.

Rafayel growls impatiently. “I thrust into you. Follow me, baby. Fuck yourself with my cock. Pretend I’m there fucking you.”

You pump the dildo furiously, the silicone dragging on your walls. Your body remembers your boyfriend’s shape, your walls greedily dragging him in deep. 

“Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear it.”

You place the phone on the couch by your gyrating hips hoping the sounds of his replica entering and exiting you carry through. “Can you hear it?”

Rafayel sharply inhales, which he then exhales in a low, guttural groan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” 

Desperate for more, you reach your other hand down to probe your engorged clit. Your eyes roll back in your head, ecstatic moans ripping from your throat, his name falling off your tongue.

“Say my name, cutie.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Hearing his name on your lips excites Rafayel, and you hear the slapping of his fist against his pelvis accompanied by the sound of skin against skin. He’s groaning, the pace of his pumping growing into a feral frenzy. “Are you… are you close?”

“Mmhmm…” Your butt lifts off the couch, all the muscles in your legs tensing from the electricity building in your core. “Close, so close.”

“Cum for me,” Rafayel commands.

You let go, the shockwaves of your ecstasy washing over you in waves, a passionate cry bursting from your chest. “Rafayel.” Feeling your walls convulse around Rafayel’s replica, you repeatedly cry out his name.

Rafayel follows soon after, his utterances of ‘fuck’ making you smile in your blissed out state. You sink to the soft cushions below you without pulling out the toy Rafayel sent you.

“Did you make a mess?” Rafayel’s voice floats to you, twinkles of laughter evident in the satisfied exhaustion.

“When have I ever not with you?” You sweetly chuckle, curling up next to the phone now by your head.

“Heh… we’ll have to make a mess together then when I’m back.”

You hum, smiling as you close your eyes. “I need to inspect how big you are compared to your dildo. I seriously still think you may have augmented yourself a bit.”

“This again? Cutie, I promise you I really am that–”

You shake with laughter at Rafayel’s indignant protests, interrupting him to say “I prefer the real you. I miss you.”

“Me too. One more week, and I’ll be home.”

“I may need to sleep with Little Rafayel until you get back.”

“Don’t replace me with him!” Rafayel falls silent, and in a little voice adds, “Please.” 

You shake your head. “Never. Only when you’re not here.”

“Good.” Rafayel clicks his tongue. “I have to go, I’m supposed to attend some dinner soon, but I gotta clean up first.”

You whine feeling empty at the prospect of having to hang up the phone. You hear Rafayel sigh from the other side.

“I’ll try to call you soon,” he murmurs, feeling forlorn himself. “Keep Little Rafayel on hand for when I do. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” you tease, covering up how much you loathe to let him go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rafayel hangs up the phone. You stare morosely at your phone again, but this time, you feel a little less lonely knowing that you have a little piece of him – as reminded by the feeling of him inside you – to keep you company until he returns.

[honeybeedrabble]

Kinktober Day 13: Size - Tutor!Miguel x AFAB!Reader 🎃

can you tell i hate my math class this sem ?? :D

CW: unspecified age gap (reader is in college miguel is in grad school), trauma inducing stats vocabulary, piv (unprotected don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), mean miguel, harsh grabbing, fingering (kinda), finger sucking, general size difference.

18+ MDNI

It was getting late, you and your roommates Machi and Gale having dinner with you. You huffed, slumping in the chair you sat on.

“This is such bullshit, I’ve been stuck on this problem for like half an hour already. Nothing’s clicking.” You pushed your dinner aside and looked at Gale for reassurance. She tilted her head at you with a raised brow.

“Girl, you know damn well I’m not getting it either. Just call it quits for tonight, it's not due for another two days.” She said, sipping a chilled can of coke. 

“Oh, come on. Neither of us are understanding this shit. I mean, this symbol looks like a backwards three! I miss when math used to just have numbers,” you complained, squinting at the statistics homework in front of you.

“That looks ridiculous,” Machi laughed. “Never have I been more glad to be an arts major.” She said, getting up to put her dish away. 

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just visit the tutoring lab? I think they’re still open.” Gale said, grabbing your dish and following Machi to the sink. 

“Really?” You asked, checking your watch. 8 pm. 

“Hey, we pay thousands of dollars in tuition, okay? If they can’t stay open or help when students need it what's the point in taking all that money from us?” Gale shrugged. You sighed, standing up from your chair. 

“Well, I guess I better get moving if I want to make it to the tutoring center before 10. Let me know if you guys need anything while I’m out.” You grabbed your keys and left the apartment after grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes back on. 

_____________________________________________________

You arrived at the building, glass doors sliding open as you walked through them, the cold air conditioning giving you goosebumps. You walked over to the sign in sheet, looking through available tutors for the next hour or so. 

“Crap…” You sighed, looking through the sheets. It seemed like you needed an appointment before hand, at least electronically. 

There was the sound of laughter down the hall, you turned your head towards the sound. There was a much larger man along with a guy who seemed about your age. You recognized the shorter individual from your statistics class. 

“Well, I’m glad we could get your problem figured out.” The tall man said, a big hand patting the younger guy's back heavily. 

“Yeah, it only took us all night.” More laughter. 

“Hey, if its due in two days all night is nothing.” The tall, tanned man said. He was massive, you could practically see his muscles bulging underneath his white buttoned shirt. His chocolate hair slicked back, a few strands messily framing his face. You were in a trance when his almost red eyes met yours. You felt your face flush. 

“U-Uh, Hey! You’re in my statistics class arent you?” You asked the shorter guy, desperately avoiding the older mans gaze. The shorter guy said your name questioningly, you nodded. 

“Yeah, thats me.” You said, clutching your bag tighter. “So… you got help with the homework?” You asked, motioning to the taller man.

“Oh yeah, this is Miguel.” He said, patting Miguels back. 

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You said, grabbing his large hand and shaking it. You felt your palms become sweatier, his hand practically enveloping yours. “I didn’t see your name under the statistics sign up sheet.” You said, voice almost trembling. 

“Well as a grad student my major is scientific research so that's why I’m not under statistics.” He said, a slight smirk across his face, his grip on your hand becoming tighter. 

“O-oh,” you said softly. 

“But I use statistics in almost everything I do, so I can help out with any problems you’ve got if you need it.” 

“Miguel’s not a bad tutor, it only took us so long to finish cause I haven’t shown up to class in weeks.” Your classmate laughed. “I’ve got to get out of here but thanks for your help, man.” He waved before walking out the sliding doors into the dark night. 

You and Miguel turned to each other, you suddenly felt very nervous. 

“So… Would you… tutor me?” You asked, rubbing your arms for warmth. 

“Well, it's not quite 10 yet and I don’t have any other sign-ups, so why not?” He shrugged, walking down the hall with you following after him. 

You two walked down the hall, reaching a small study room at the end of it. 

“This is the room I reserved for the night, so don’t worry about anyone coming in here super late and trying to steal it from us.” He said, opening it up for you to walk through. 

You walked into the room, a table with a few chairs in the center with a whiteboard behind it. It seemed fine to you as you walked in, sitting down on a chair, slightly taken aback when it rolled underneath your weight. You looked down and noticed wheels at the feet of the chair. You looked up again when you heard the door shut, Miguel locking it behind him. 

_______________________________________________

“And that's why your z score is going to be 20.99. Does that make sense?” He asked. You were fucked. 

The whole time you were supposed to be paying attention you were completely distracted by his being. He sat next to you, his large frame practically caging you in between him and the desk. He was everywhere, and if you weren’t staring directly at the paper, you were scared you were going to faint. You nodded, eyes looking down at the problem, refusing to tear away from the mathematical mess you made. 

“Yeah…”

“Then tell me how you got it.” He said, deep voice rumbling in his big chest. 

“Well, first you uh…” You circled a random number in the world problem then looked up at him with helpless eyes. He raised a brow. 

“You start with the standard deviation?” He asked, clearly unamused. 

“Well… You definitely use it somewhere…” You said half joking. Miguel was still unamused. He sighed deeply, throwing his head into his hand. 

“I’ll explain it one more time, okay?” He said, grabbing the pencil from your hand. His hand brushed against yours and held your pencil as if it were a toothpick to him. “So, we’ve identified the mew, right?” He asked, underlining the foreign symbol. 

“Yeah…” You said, asking yourself what the fuck is a mew? 

You were determined to stay focused but that man made it difficult. You turned to look at him while his eyes were fixed onto the paper, scribbling out equations and typing into your calculator- which he also made look puny in his grasp. You watched him as he spoke, the way his soft lips moved as he talked, revealing sharp canines every now and then between words. You felt your face flush, entranced by his presence. You eyed his large shoulders, following them down to his massive arms. You looked back up at his face, admiring his features while he was so deep in thought. He looked down at you.

“So now we just divide and… hey?” he said almost harshly. “Are you paying attention?” He asked in a snarky tone. You felt your face drop. 

“I… um…”

“Distracted again?” He tossed the pencil onto the surface of the table, muscular arms crossing as he almost glared at you. 

“I’m sorry.” You felt exhausted, covering your face with your hands in defeat. You felt like crying. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on undressing me with your eyes and more focused on these problems, you’d understand this shit by now.” He grunted. You stilled, face buried deep into your palms before you peered at him through between your fingertips. 

“W…What?” You asked, looking at his almost red eyes. 

“I said what I said.” Miguel's voice was low, he grabbed your seat and pulled it towards him, the wheels moving you with ease. You felt your core tighten, as your face continued to burn hot, regardless of the air conditioning. 

Miguel's eyes practically violated you, staring deep past your own and into your soul before looking you up and down, clearly enjoying how you cowered. 

“That pretty little head not used to thinking this hard?” he asked low in your ear. You shuddered, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. “Pathetic.”

He grabbed your waist with his large hands, daring to crush you between his palms. He slowly stood up from his chair, face inches away from yours. You took that as invitation enough and crashed your lips into his, those soft lips felt even better than you imagined, a whimper escaping your lips as his grip increased. He pulled you off of the chair and slammed you onto the table, papers flying and pens scattering around you. You let out a grunt as the air escaped your lungs from the impact. 

“I’m taking time out of my night to try and teach you this shit and you can't even meet me halfway and try to learn it?” He huffs yanking down your frumpy sweats to your ankles. You kicked them off, laying on the table in your tight shirt and panties. 

“I-I’m sorry, you're just so-” he cut you off with two thick fingers plunging into your mouth, you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. He smirked, watching you drag your tongue around the knuckles of his fingers. 

“That ought to shut you up.” He ran a finger from his other hand to your clothed cunt, you moaned around his thick digits when he caressed your clit. Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding against his large hand. “Would you look at that? I didn’t know they accepted whores into this school.” Miguel hummed, voice smooth like honey and deep like an ocean. 

His single finger moved to where your pussy and thigh met, yanking aside your black cotton panties to reveal your wet cunt, which clenched around nothing at the sudden cold air. 

“Jesus… I bet you were thinking about this all night, huh?” Miguel teased, the calloused tip of his finger just barely grazing along your seeping hole, spreading the warm slick higher and higher up your folds until he could smear it along your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from behind his drooly fingers. 

“Needy, aren’t we?” Miguel withdrew his fingers from your mouth while his other hand unzipped his dress pants, the metal of his belt buckle clanking together as he pulled it out of its loops. The belt hit the floor with a small thud and with his drool-soaked fingers he freed his massive cock and ran the slippery fingers up and down his shaft. 

Miguel tore your underwear off of you, as if it was like taking a sticker off a piece of fruit. You felt yourself drip down your thighs, unsure whether or not it was okay to touch yourself while watching this Greek god of a man pleasure himself with your spit, watching your tense cunt beg him to stuff it. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, slipping his finger into his mouth and moaning long and deep when he tasted your sweet slick on his tongue. You nodded vigorously, grabbing one of your tits to entice him even further. “Why don’t you take that off while we’re ahead?” 

You quickly tossed off your shirt and bra, completely naked on the desk. Miguel softly laughed, watching how nicely you obeyed him. 

“You're too easy, y’know that?” With a few more pumps to his shaft, he harshly grabbed one of your thighs and spread your legs even further, admiring your wet pussy. 

The moan you two let out when he put his cock inside of you could've been heard by the whole building if it hadn't been well past 10 pm and everyone had gone for the day. His girthy member dared to split you in half, the sheer size of him was far too much to handle, especially all at one. We watched with pleasure as your breathy moans turned into agonized whimpers the further he drove into you. When he had finally gone balls deep inside of you, there was an obvious cock bulge deep inside of you as he stretched out your pussy wonderfully. 

“M-Miguel…” You sighed, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“Oh, so this can keep your attention but me slaving away on your homework can’t?” He smugly asked, pulling out before slamming into you with a grunt. You wailed, scratching the hard surface of the desk underneath you, crumpling stray pieces of scratch paper into your palm while arching your back. 

Miguel started at a rough pace, making room out of your tight pussy for his intimidating cock, juices slicking the shaft of his member, and sounds of your wet pussy gushing paired with the creaking of the table filled the room, moans, and mewls adding to euphonious music of your fucking. 

“So fucking tight… so fucking tiny… I bet I could fold you like a pretzel,” He said amusingly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing the fronts of them against your chest. You cried out loud, new depth being explored by his commanding dick while he used you for his pleasure. 

With his massive hands, he spread his fingers out, his thumbs on the backs of your thighs and his four fingers on the small of your back, grabbing onto you so he could bring you up and down on his deep thrusts. 

You were seeing stars at this point, scared your arousal would drip onto your homework papers and soil all the progress you’ve made. But it didn’t matter anymore when you threw your head back onto the table and shook in his hands, pussy clenching around his meaty cock and milking him for his own cum. 

“Ngh- What did I say? Easy…” He moaned, thrusting inside of you a few more times before he shot a huge load inside of your tiny pussy, cum leaking out between where your sexes met and rolling down your asscheeks. 

You lay there on the table, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Miguel watched entranced as your shared cum leaked out of you, finger fucking it back inside of you, wondering if it he could stuff it all back in. He quickly realized your overstimulated cunt couldn’t take it as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Sorry,” He said, removing his fingers. “Now uh… where were we?” He picked up the page of work, then his face dropped, looking at the splotch of cum that had spilled out on accident. 

“On second thoughts… you might want to turn this in online.”

Tag List: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Cloning - Kakashi x Reader

[luveline]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks. 

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head. 

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand. 

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once. 

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!" 

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says. 

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink. 

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour. 

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up. 

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow. 

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference. 

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed. 

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But… 

"Loser," you mutter to yourself. 

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile. 

You freeze. "Two seconds!" 

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously. 

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy." 

"Come on out." 

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway. 

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly. 

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher. 

"What upset you?" he asks. 

"Nothing your friends did, I promise." 

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces. 

You cringe bodily. "I'm not." 

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated." 

"It's not my necklace, Spence." 

"Then what is it?" 

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better." 

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see. 

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.  

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused. 

"Not like her." Your voice quivers. 

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face. 

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly. 

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction. 

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?" 

"Thousands." 

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do." 

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask. 

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse. 

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you." 

"Spence…" 

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?" 

"I don't know." 

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think." 

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart. 

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly. 

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again. 

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again." 

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that." 

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset." 

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless. 

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad. 

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable. 

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

[milkywaygalaxygurl]

The Go-Ahead - Art Donaldson

request: hiii could you do any plot/story/scenario where tashi knows art is interested/in love/infatuated or just attracted to reader so she gives him the green light as long as it’ll have him play tennis better … sorry if this doesn’t make sense or is weirdly specific i’m just a little obsessed with this scenario

i took some liberties with the personality of Y/N since it wasn’t specified, i made her shy and a little awkward because i could definitely see art falling for an adorably shy woman after being with tashi’s confident self for so long. i wrote this as the reader being female because gender wasn’t specified, but let me know if you’d like me to change it!! i personally really hate the way i wrote this and it’s definitely not my best, i honestly might rewrite it eventually because there’s kind of a lack of romance but i really hope y’all like it:’)

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female!Reader

Warnings: thoughts of infidelity, probably swearing, suggestive words, idk if i missed anything else but yeah

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: Y/N caught Art’s eye the second she walked into the Stanford reunion Tashi had practically forced Art to attend. He couldn’t believe how breathtakingly beautiful she was or the fact that he was thinking this way about someone other than Tashi. Unbeknownst to Art, Tashi notices and forms a plan.

Art loved Tashi wholeheartedly, he always had and always would. Some part of him knew that Tashi would never love him as much as he did her, but he felt content knowing she chose him to spend her life with. Even if they fought about tennis and rarely spoke about anything else, Art never thought anybody could take his eyes off Tashi.

That is, until you walked into the venue the Stanford reunion was being held in. It’s almost as if his eyes were drawn to your presence entering the room, eyes immediately snapping towards you. His breath catches in his throat for a second, his eyes widening slightly. He lets out an awkward cough, nodding when Tashi asks if he’s okay.

He tries not to make it obvious when he glances back at you to catch another look, but Tashi notices and follows his line of sight. She has to force herself to hold back a scoff at first, but an idea quickly forms in her head. She studies you just like Art, noticing the way you give awkward smiles and how the flush in your cheeks never seems to lessen as you fidget awkwardly and stumble through small talk with former classmates.

You are beautiful, even Tashi can admit that, she doesn’t blame Art for allowing his eyes to wander (especially with the state of their relationship). As you move closer to the couple, Tashi suddenly realizes that she had a class with you all those years ago. You were kind to her after her knee injury, you weren’t the best of friends but you had taken notes for her while she missed class for physical therapy and always offered a helping hand when needed.

She glances at Art, noticing how his eyes are still trained on you. She chuckles slightly before making her mind up, looping her arm through Art’s and practically dragging him over to where you stand.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so good to see you!” She plasters on a smile, chuckling slightly when you look at her wide eyed for a second. You were still the same shy girl you were back then, it had honestly always annoyed Tashi how unconfident you were.

“Tashi! Wow, you look amazing.” You smile at her after getting over your initial awkwardness, turning to look at Art for a second before looking back at her. Tashi clocks it immediately, but doesn’t let either of you know.

“Oh hush, look at you! I’m sure you remember Art, right?” She lays a hand on her husband’s arm, turning to look at him. He’s looking at you like a lovesick puppy and, in all honesty, it doesn’t bother her one bit.

“Yeah, of course! You guys were like the prodigies of our class, I think you guys are part of the very few of us who actually went on to make a name for themselves.” You chuckle, glancing at Art again.

It takes Art a minute to even speak, but his mouth finally starts to move as he holds a hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. Y/N, was it?”

You shake his hand softly, nodding your head. “I helped Tashi a little after her knee injury, I’m honestly surprised she even remembered me!” Chuckling awkwardly, you take your hand back and hope he didn’t notice how sweaty it was.

Tashi pretends to notice something across the room, apologizing profusely and saying she’ll be right back. When Art tries to follow her, she shoos him away and tells him to stay talking with you. He tries not to seem too excited at the idea, but the way he turns around quickly gives him away.

Art notices the way you fidget with the rings on your fingers and the way your eyes dart around awkwardly as if you’re looking for the nearest escape. He honestly thinks it’s adorable, but tries his best to help you feel less awkward by starting a new conversation.

“What was your major?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. The question seems to ease the tension, your eyes lighting up as you smile.

“Originally it was Journalism but after I realized that I’d have to interview people, I very quickly switched to just having English as my major. I wrote a few books that didn’t get as much attention as I hoped they would, so I’m an editor for a magazine now.”

“It’s actually kind of crazy, the last thing I edited was a column about you.” You smile at him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he smiles in return.

“All good things, I hope?” He asks, making you nod your head quickly as you jump to reassure him.

Tashi never returned to the conversation despite swearing she would and you talked with Art for what felt like hours. Before you knew it, you were laughing like old friends and the conversation was flowing nicely. You catch yourself wondering what it would be like if you had met him all those years ago, if maybe he’d have had a crush on you before he dated Tashi.

You knew it was wrong to think that way about a married man, but you rationalized it out by saying they were just thoughts. Truly, that’s all they were. You would never try meddling in a relationship that seemed as strong as theirs. You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you glanced down at your phone, your mouth falling open in shock.

“We’ve been talking for so long!” Turning your phone around to show Art the time, his own mouth falls open too before splitting into a grin.

“I really hate to say this, but I really have to go. I have to go into work early tomorrow and I really need to get a good night’s sleep beforehand.” You look up at him with puppy dog eyes and Art swears he felt his heart skip a beat.

“That’s alright, I really enjoyed talking to you. Let’s go find Tashi and we’ll walk you out, we should get going too.” He looks around for a second and almost immediately spots Tashi, pointing her out to you so you two can make your way over.

You say an awkward goodbye once you’re at your car and before you step in, Tashi is calling out to you for your number. “We should keep in touch! We can all go out for drinks sometime.”

You give it to her, honestly a little startled she wanted to keep in contact. You exchange another goodbye before driving off, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you see Art again.

It took Tashi all of two seconds to turn to Art with a raised eyebrow. “You seemed to really like her.” Her voice is deadpan, her arms crossed.

“Wh- What do you mean?” He looks at her wide eyed, like a child who’s been caught. She chuckles, shaking her head.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in and the whole time you guys were talking, I’m not stupid.” Art gaps at her, his mouth opening and shutting a few times.

“Art, I don’t give a fuck. Why do you think I asked for her number?” He’s still gaping at her, trying to find the right words.

“You’ve been playing like shit, you can’t deny it. She made you the most excited I’ve seen you in a while. If she’s what it takes for you to play good again, I don’t care if you fuck her. Hell, you could enter a full blown relationship with her and I wouldn’t care if it means you play better.”

Art tries to defend himself, tries to say he would never do that to Tashi, but part of him is excited at the prospect of her giving him the go-ahead. After lots of convincing and back and forth between them, Art decides to just go for it. You guys all hung out after that night a few times, but eventually Tashi was always “busy” and it turned into just you and Art going out for drinks or watching movies. It wasn’t until after a few months of these hang outs when Art decided to bring up the idea to you.

“I know this is a really strange offer, but I really just need you to hear me out before you say anything.” His words make you raise an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. You notice how nervous he seems, his thumb rubbing the ring on his finger.

“I find you attractive, I honestly really like you. I know I’m married to Tashi, but her and I have honestly been going downhill for months. All we ever talk about is tennis, she barely even wants to touch me anymore. I- I know it’s strange, but she gave me permission to pursue something with you. If you’re interested, that is.”

You stare at him for a second, your face void of any emotion. “Did she really give you the okay or is this just some manipulation tactic? Because you know how I feel about cheating.”

He nods his head quickly, “If you want, you can talk to her about it. We’ve been discussing this since the night I met you, that’s why these hang outs eventually turned into just you and I.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want this, but you didn’t want to enter into something that would inevitably cause pain for all parties involved.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to fuck you and then let you go home to your family? I can’t do that to myself, Art.” In the months that you’d been hanging out with Art, your shyness slowly disappeared and he got to see the more confident side of you. He couldn’t deny that it made him like you all the more.

“I-I mean, if you really wanted to, we don’t have to just do that. We could be in a relationship, I could stay with you some nights and go home for Lilly other nights. I don’t want you to think I just want to use you, because I don’t want to. You’re amazing, Y/N. These past few months have been so nice, I love just getting to sit with you and not having to talk about tennis or training. You make me feel normal, like I’m not just a puppet.”

You rub your forehead again, closing your eyes to think. “We can do this, but all three of us need to sit down and discuss boundaries. We need to do this right.”

Art’s face breaks out into a bright grin, his hands reaching for your own. “That’s fine with me, thank you for giving this a chance.”

The next day, you found yourself having the awkward sit down with him and Tashi to discuss boundaries. It took nearly the whole day, but eventually things were settled. With the weight of that off your chest, you felt comfortable starting something with Art.

Months went by and your love for Art only grew deeper. He was so kind and attentive, always making sure you were still okay with the arrangement and that you felt cared for. You feared the dynamic would be weird, but you often saw Tashi and even met Lilly a few times. Things were going amazing and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

It was nearly six months into your relationship the first time Art told you he loved you. You were lying in bed, the TV casting a glow in the otherwise dark room. Art was cuddled into your side, his head resting on her chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you. As he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and felt your chest move with every breath you took, he realized just how glad he was to have met you that night. He had gotten better at playing, he felt more loved than he had honestly ever felt with Tashi, and he was truly and utterly content with his life.

“Y/N?” He whispers your name, propping his head up on your chest to look at you. You look down at him, running your fingers through his hair as you smile softly at him. You hum softly to let him know you’re listening, it was something you did often that made Art’s heart skip several beats.

“I love you, truly. I’m so glad I met you and I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.” His words make you smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean down to give him a million kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.” Art grins at you, sitting up so he can kiss your face. You giggle at the feeling, grabbing his face to pull him in for a real kiss. You were truly so grateful for Art and your relationship, and you were grateful for Tashi allowing it. This was the happiest you’d been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[viperify]

Oneshots | ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Next Saturday, same time.

Short summary: Your Defence Against Dark Arts professor, Tom Riddle, was less than pleased with your academic performance. When he then called you in to discuss your grade, his true intentions came to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! Sir kink, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial, rough sex, manipulation, impact play

All characters in this story are adults.

A/N: So sorry for not posting in over a week, school’s been keeping me busyyy. While I am fighting for my life with no escape pt 2 y’all can have this. ;)

wordcount: 3,7k

“Good evening, miss. Please, take a seat.”

Cautiously you entered the tiny office and sat down on the chair, opposite of him, resting your hands on the smooth surface of your professor’s wooden work desk. He studied you intently, lowering his gaze to watch how your fingers fidgeted with a loose thread of the grey sweater you were wearing. One of your favourites, not revealing too much, yet showing the perfect amount of cleavage to be okay to wear around school. His eyes wandered, quickly stopping at the exposed skin of your chest, until his eyes finally met yours.

“Do you know why I called you here today?” he questioned, voice just as strict and controlled as you were used to.

You shook your head, innocent eyes staring back at his strict expression, your lips turning into a slight pout. He huffed, the corner of his lips twitching slightly, carefully laying the quill he had been holding in his right hand onto the desk. Your eyes followed his long, slender fingers, admiring the veins decorating his pale skin. He was wearing his signature Gaunt family ring, an heirloom, which had been intriguing you ever since the first time you saw it. The brunette clearing his throat tore you out of your thoughts.

Right, he probably expected a vocal answer.

Of course, you knew why he had called you in. Your grades had been miserable, failing all three exams you’d had. Now, you weren’t necessarily a bad student, however Professor Riddle was the strictest and most unforgiving teacher at Hogwarts. One single word he didn’t deem as fitting and your whole answer was wrong. On top of that, just to pass most people studied for hours on end, starting two weeks before the exam. You did too, yet it had never been quite enough. 

That’s how you ended up getting an owl from your professor, telling you to meet him after dinner in his office that day. Obviously, you didn’t think much of it, except being humiliated once more for your grades. Professor Riddle was notorious for hating bad students after all.

“No, Sir. I don’t know.” 

“You haven’t noticed your horrific grades? I must say, I expected better of you, miss.” the brunette replied, his disappointment sounding authentic, though you knew for certain it wasn’t. He didn’t care whether someone passed or not, for him it was the pleas to not let them fail that spurred him on.

It was sick, really.

Though, nobody ever had been called into his office solely for that reason. And you knew just how many girls would have loved to switch places with you. He was the youngest and most handsome professor at Hogwarts, there was no denying that. In fact, many girls stayed behind after class to ask completely unrelated questions to his lessons, just to have his attention for themselves for a minute.

His answers though were mostly simple and straight to the point, his cold exterior void of any emotion. Most of the girls were disappointed, but that didn’t keep them from trying again next lesson. You never asked anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction you knew he felt deep down at his admirers, even if he didn’t show it.

“I have noticed that. However, I don’t think that is entirely my fault, Sir.” You started, carefully at that. What you didn’t want is to insult his ego. Somehow you would have to convince him you are worthy of passing the subject after all.

His answer wasn’t what you had expected. A slight grin forming on his face, eyes flickering to what seemed like your exam papers in front of him. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

You were certain you had never in your life seen that man smile, Merlin forbid grin. Either he was in a very good mood that evening, which you heavily doubted, or he was already envisioning your tear-stained face after he would have you fail.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up what kind of professor he was. You had thoroughly messed this up already.

“No- please don’t understand this wrong, Sir. I- I just thought your exams in comparison with other subjects were quite high effort, making it harder to study and pass.” You stuttered, trying to find the right words to get you out of trouble.

“Well, miss, what can I say?” he leaned over the desk slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, “I am unlike other professors. My lessons are demanding. If students wish to pass, they will have to set their priorities straight. Which clearly isn’t the case for you.”

You cursed yourself. There it was, exactly what you thought was going to happen. He would let you fail if you tried making your case.

“No, Sir, please. I will do more for your lessons from now on. I can’t afford to fail your subject.” You cringed at how pathetic your begging sounded. So desperate. Especially to a professor who was known for finding joy in their students’ pleas, but you had no other choice. You had to at least try.

He nodded slightly, the corner of his lips perking up. “I fear it is too late to make promises for the future now. Though, what are you prepared to do to fix your past mistakes?” The brunette asked you, his eyes hinting at your exam papers in front of him.

“Anything, Sir.”

The energy shifted at your words, tension lingering thick in the air. He exhaled sharply, getting up from his seat. “Anything, hm?” You managed a shy nod as he walked around the desk to lean against it besides you.

His head sank, adjusting a button of his black suit as he nodded. After what felt like an eternity, his hot gaze met yours, and you felt as though his eyes were burning right through you. Finally, he spoke. “You know just how long I have wanted you in this position? Eager to do anything to fix your grade? It’s been miserable, really.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion, staring back at him. “Sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand?” He surely didn’t intend to say what you thought he did.

Again, he nodded, a sly smirk forming on his full lips. “Oh I think you do, darling.”

He inched closer to you, dangerously close for your liking. In fact, you had never seen him that close before. Every single detail about his exterior was neat, suit fitting him like it was hand-tailored just for him. Knowing how highly he valued his appearance, it probably was too. His brunette curls perfectly styled, falling beautifully onto his forehead like they always did.

“I am sorry, Sir but I really-“

“Always running that pretty mouth of yours.” He mumbled, interrupting you, as he ran his thumb over your soft lips. You breath hitched at the sudden contact, yet you didn’t stop him. Never would you have expected this to happen, but here you were. Sat in front of your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor as he caressed you. He stopped at the center, gently pressing down, urging you to part them for him. Naturally you obliged, pushing his finger into your warm mouth, instinctively starting to suck on it. As you looked up to him through your lashes, you saw a small crease forming between his eyebrows, a small groan slipping from his slightly parted lips. “Such a dirty girl. I knew you had it in you.”

You didn’t know why you even gave in to him. Shame rushed through you, your cheeks heating up. You really shouldn’t be doing this with your professor. However, you needed to fix your grade. And maybe, just maybe… you started to see his appeal. Which didn’t change the fact that it was wrong. So wrong.

“Come on, get up now.” He demanded as he withdrew his thumb from your mouth, pulling you up by your arm in a quick motion so you were stood up in front of him. His gaze wandered up and down your body, taking in your curves he had yearned to touch ever since the first time he had noticed you. Again, his eyes locked onto the exposed skin of your cleavage, hand travelling from your waist your shoulder, running his finger along your clavicle.

“Wearing such a short skirt in combination with that sweater when expected by your professor, should have let you fail merely because of that.” He muttered, taunting you. His hand guided yours towards the dent in his trousers, letting it brush against it slightly. The brunette’s breath was hot on the side of your face as he leaned in, causing you to shiver. “You feel this, doll? That is what you do to me.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” You stammered, unsure of what to say. Were you really going to do this?

He didn’t leave you any time to think about it.

“It’s time to punish you for all these indecent thoughts you have been causing me.”

“Tell me,” he started, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eyes while he spoke to you. “How is it that I can’t resist you?” The tone of his voice was softer than you were used to, yet the strictness remained.

“I could have any girl at my feet with a simple snap of my fingers. Yet I yearn for no one more deeply than I do for you.”

You were lost for words, staring back at his unreadable expression. If you had to describe it, it would have been a mix of pain, anger and desire – positively too many emotions at once for someone like him.

“I-“ You tried, though immediately cut off by him. His hand softly wrapped around your throat, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as his darkened eyes warned you. “No more talking. You have done enough damage. Making me feel all these things I was certain I would never get to experience.”

With that, he pushed you backwards until you hit the rough edge of his desk, trapped between his body and the wooden furniture. His palm slowly travelled up your thigh, halting when he reached the hem of your skirt. He leaned down, his lips just barely hovering over the crook of your neck as you could almost feel the conflict in his mind. “Tell me you want this too. Say it.” His breath shallow against your skin, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Your mind was reeling. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t get flustered from your professor’s touch. You should have never even allowed him to get you into this position. Yet, you couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through your veins at the thought of what he was going to do with you. What he would ask of you to fix your grades.

“I want it too. P-Please, Sir” you whispered, exhaling sharply as he planted a soft kiss on your skin, goosebumps rising on your skin at the contact.

Unsure of what to do, you reached out to hold onto his arms, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. The brunette lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. Clearly, you must have read his expression wrong, because when you drew closer to kiss him he stopped you, tightly squeezing both of your arms.

“No kissing. Don’t you-“, his fingers roughly lifted your chin, making you meet his stern expression. “Listen to me. Don’t you dare try doing that ever again.”

At first, his words stung, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You quickly blinked them away. His voice, which he had intended to come off as rough, told you there was more behind what he was ready to admit.

You knew he wanted the kiss too.

And you were right.

The look of his eyes betrayed him, his usual controlled demeanor threatening to shatter. It took him everything there and then to make it sound like he despised the idea of kissing you. After all, kissing meant love. Love meant vulnerability. And Tom hated vulnerability.

Early on in his life, when he was residing in the orphanage, people around him used vulnerability to hurt others. The intelligent boy he was, he caught onto that quickly. Shutting down emotions had always worked well for him. He was quite certain that by doing so for years he had lost the ability to feel entirely.

Until you entered his life.

Completely wrecking the idea of what person he was, of what he wanted to become.

It only played into his cards when you then started failing exam after exam. It was like a gift from Merlin himself. He would finally have an excuse to meet you privately, to manipulate you into thinking you were doing this for a grade. When all he wanted was to finally let out all that pent-up frustration and anger on your poor body.

And there was part of him who wanted to love you. To hold you, tenderly care for you. But that part was somewhere so deeply hidden in his soul, he didn’t even acknowledge its existence. All he wanted to do was make you pay for the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. How could you do something no one else was capable of, not even himself?

Make him feel. Like a human.

Kissing you wouldn’t fix anything, but rather make his suffering worse. He wouldn’t kiss you. Never. Today, you would pay.

His hands reached out to tug on your sweater, pulling it over your head, before cursing something under his breath, unzipping the back of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor next to your sweater. His hungry eyes roamed over your body, your silk underwear hugging your curves perfectly. You suddenly felt exposed at the way he was leering at you and attempted to cover your bare skin. “Sir, I don’t know if it’s a good idea, I mean-“

Tom snatched your wrists. “You want to fix your grade, don’t you?” He growled, the muscles in his jaw stiffening. You nodded quickly, disregarding your doubt.

“That’s right. Stay all nice and quiet for me now.”

With a quick motion he flipped you around, palm pressing down between your shoulder blades to have you bend over his desk as he was standing right behind you. A yelp was all you managed, surprised by his sudden roughness and the cold material beneath you.

“This is for failing your exams.”

Smack

“This is for wearing these disgraceful outfits around school.”

Smack

“And this is for messing with my head.”

Smack

He let his palm repeatedly come down on your barely covered ass, the intense sting of the impacts having tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, small gasps escaping your lips.

“W-what do you mean, Sir?” You croaked, lifting your head to search for an answer.

Smack

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do you ever fucking listen?” He growled, delivering another harsh smack to your already reddened skin. If he wasn’t angry before, he was now. Making quick work of your panties, he let them pool around your ankles, pressing his erect length against your now bare skin, making you inhale sharply. Even clothed, he felt big.

He undid his belt and instructed you to put your hands behind your back, to which you obliged. “Going to make sure you aren’t going anywhere, darling.” The brunette mumbled as he wrapped the leather around your wrists, securing them tightly.

You lay there, so beautifully exposed and helpless in front of him, just like he wanted you. Looking so innocent. His hand reached out to caress your back, though he stopped himself in time.

No affection.

He would only check whether you were ready for him, nothing more. This wasn’t for your pleasure after all, it should be a punishment. Really, nothing more than that.

Yet, when he heard your soft moans as his hand rested on the curve of your behind, thumb lazily playing with your puffy clit, he almost changed his mind. Your sweet voice, the one he was used to hearing only when you were laughing and giggling with your friends during his lessons, aroused him even more than he already had been, almost painfully so. His finger swiped through your folds, gathering your wetness just to push it back inside of your dripping hole. He exhaled sharply at the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him, slowly opening up for him.

“Want more please, Si- T-Tom” you mewled, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate to feel him inside of you. Knowing you couldn’t see him, he grinned. He got what he wanted, having you bent over his desk, all needy and desperate for him and only him.

Smack

“We will keep the formalities, hm?” He taunted, withdrawing his thumb from your aching cunt just to replace it with his tip, not yet entering you. He was savouring every second of this, the first time he got to be inside of you, have you under his complete control.

“Please, Sir.” You whined, and though you still weren’t 100% convinced this was the right thing to do, you wanted him so badly. Your professor, who just mere seconds ago almost made you come only by the touch of his fingertip.

Tom couldn’t take it anymore. You shouldn’t want this so badly, you shouldn’t want him. His palm landed one more hard smack on your soft skin before he steadily pushed into your warm core, which was sucking him right in.

“You are so-“ you whined, body tensing at the intrusion, “so- big, Sir” The stretch radiating a painful sting from your core. “I know. Can barely fit inside of this tight cunt of yours.” The brunette growled, not letting you adjust to him as he mercilessly snapped his hips into yours, the sound filling his tiny office room.

You cried out in pleasure as the pain faded, disregarding his orders to stay silent. The way his veiny cock dragged against your sensitive walls made your mind go blank, making you a moaning mess under him. His hand wrapped around your throat as a warning, shushing you.

“Going to ruin you for everyone else. This pussy is mine, isn’t it, darling? He spat, holding onto your tied wrists for leverage as he hit your cervix with particularly deep thrusts. “Sir, please- Merlin-“ you moaned, your hip bones repeatedly hitting the edge of his desk, sure to leave bruises that would still remind you of him for days.

“Keep quiet- fuck- can’t you ever just-“ he groaned, his eyes darting around the place looking for something, anything. He clutched the nearest object he could find – which happened to be one your exam papers – and shoved it into your mouth, hand covering it to make you keep the provisional gag in, muffling your voice. “That’s  better.”

He felt his orgasm approaching in big steps, the feeling of how your warm, wet walls so perfectly gripped his length having him on the edge of sanity. He longed to have you clench around him, milking him. That’s when his hand snaked down your thighs, though before they reached your clit, he remembered what this was about. Even when you weren’t able to speak you drove him crazy, and he despised you for it. So, instead of rubbing your clit, he added another smack to your sore ass.

“So-“ thrust “fucking-“ thrust “tight.” thrust

You whined and as his hand finally left your mouth, you spit out the now damp paper, coughing. The way he was mercilessly pounding into your aching cunt had you see stars, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “S‘ too much- please-“ you managed to croak out, trying to wriggle away from him, his fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back and steady you.

“No, you better stop squirming. Fuck- I am going to break you just like you broke me.” He hissed, slightly bending over your form, making you take him to the hilt. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, yet you had no other choice than to take what he was giving you.

Just a few thrusts later he felt himself desperate for release, though he wouldn’t grant you the honor of coming inside you. He pulled out of you right as he was about to finish, spilling his seed on your lower back instead with a low grunt. A small whine escaped your lips at the feeling of his cum on your skin.

Both of you stayed like this for a while. Your mind was still fuzzy from his rough handling, barely able to form a coherent thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. Did he regret it? Although it was a dangerous game you two were playing, you loved it. More than you had thought you would.

And him? He got what he wanted after all. Taking out his anger on you. But now it wasn’t any better. Tom sought after more. If he could, he would have you bend over that damn desk every single day. However, he would have to let you go. For now, at least.

The brunette freed your wrists, helping you stand up straight. With a wide smirk on his face, he wiped his release off your back with your panties. “What the-?” You asked, snatching it out of his hands. “Filthy girl, filthy panties.” He shrugged. “Put them on, get dressed and go back to your dorm. If you speak to anyone about this, consider yourself expelled. No one will believe you.”

There was something you still wanted. Something he denied you.

“What about my turn to finish?”

Sitting back down behind his desk, hair damp with sweat, he stared at you as though you had just said something outrageous. “Girls like you don’t get to come. This was for fixing your grade, not for your pleasure.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What about my grade then?”

“Come back next Saturday to find out.”

You scoffed. “I am not going to.”

He knew you would.

And he was right.

feedback is as always appreciated <3

[42spideys]

TEDDY BEAR — e-42!miles morales x m!reader

synopsis: some miles hc’s about him dating a cute chubby boy and how he is with him!

pairing: earth 42 miles morales x male reader, earth 42 miles morales x black male reader

tags: m.reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, possessive miles, really intense love from miles

notes: IM GOING THROUGH BRAINROT OUGHHHH I LOVE U MILES

when you and miles got together it was a shock to everyone, especially you. you weren’t the most talkative person, ridiculously shy, but he still found himself drawn to you.

you were the cute chubby boy that he sat next to, he liked to sneak glances at you. enjoying who your cheeks puffed out when you were confused on a question, his favorite is when you give his arm a small tap and try to ask for help. he always teases you when this happens, he can’t help himself, you’re just to cute :((

you pouted at the math equation in front of you, you tried 16 different ways to solve it until you finally gave up. you glanced over to your seat partner, miles, he always made your face heat up. you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hype yourself up to ask him for help in a way that was comfortable for you. you tapped his arm with a shaky hand, he tilted his head towards you with hooded eyes filled with boredom.

you almost forgot what you wanted to ask him, the way the sun bounced off his body, making him glow almost like an angel. everything about him was perfect to you, his eyes, his nose, his lips…you felt yourself get lost.

“focus, guapo, what did you tap me for,hm?” you felt your face burn in embarrassment, you slid the piece of paper towards miles with a pout, pointing at the question you were fighting for you life for.

cute. you were always really, really cute.

he follows you around the school, kinda like a bodyguard. you were happy to have him for company, he knew that you didn’t talk unless you either wanted to or had to, so when you guys were together he would do all the talking for you.

he is so protective over you even before you guys get together, glaring at people when they look at you funny, outright pulling you away from situations he finds weird.

and he’s so so jealous…

you could be in a one sided conversation with another student, giving small “mhms!” once and awhile, miles literally wrapped an arm around your shoulders and just walked away with you.

when you whine at him he’ll just give you a “she was talkin to you funny, don’t fall for that, rey.” you groaned a fake annoyance at him before giggling at his small pout.

and when you guys finally get together

he is going CRAZY

spoiling you with art of you, buying you your favorite snacks, little stuffed animals, cute collectibles, and so much more.

you’re his prince and he has to treat you like so! he won’t have it any other way >:(

“miles!? what the hell, you shouldn’t have gotten me this stuff! how much was-“ miles silenced you with a soft kiss to your lips, you whined at the contact. miles pulled away from your wet puffy lips with a smirk, “i’ll buy you whatever i want, you deserve it and so much more, so take it before i tackle yo ass.” you took the large bear and roses from miles arms, your face practically burning off.

miles was all giddy inside, he loved seeing you squirm and get flustered whenever he bought you practically anything. you weren’t used to getting gifts in the slightest, you barley got anything for your birthday and christmas, not that your parent didn’t care about you. money was just really really tight, miles knew that, that’s why he made it his mission to spoil you like you deserved to be spoiled!!

don’t let him catch you being insecure about yourself or saying anything mean about yourself, he will fr go off in disbelief

you’ll mutter something about, “i hate my tummy…i really gotta stop eating.” think miles wouldn’t hear that, but erm…

he absolutely did and damn near broke his neck trying to turn towards you, his face twisted in confusion

what do you mean by that?? who said you could say that about yourself??? do you want your ass beat or something?? (lovingly of course)

“the fuck did you just say?” miles glared at you, making you instantly shrink into yourself. you picked at your fingers, looking away from miles burning glare, “i said,” you heard him get up from his desk and walk over to you. he took your chubby face in his hand and made you look up at him, you instantly melted in his touch. “what did you say, hm? you talkin’ bad about my favorite boy?” “…i said i don’t like my tummy.” you mumbled, you heard miles give a laugh he only did when he was either about to fight or say something absolutely outrageous.

he sucked his teeth before pushing your back on the bed, he lifted your hoodie to expose your tummy, this made you shiver and pout at him. “miles! what are you-“

kiss.

huh?

kiss kiss kiss!

you start giggling as miles continues to kiss and bite your tummy, you tried to pull him away by his braids but he just bit you even harder leaving teeth marks. after he was done with his tummy attack he hovered above you, his gold chain you gifted him for his birthday dangling perfectly above you. “don’t let me catch you saying some dumb shit like that ever again, or i’ll find other ways to keep that pretty lil head of yours straight.” he cooed.

“miles, technically i cant do that because-“

“i will kick you out of my house.”

at first he really didn’t like physical affection, but after you guys made it official he would go crazy if he didn’t get to touch you at least 10 times a day

constantly having his hands or body on your or near you

coming behind you in the halls to wrap his arms around your midsection while getting his head in a nice and comfy position in the crook of your neck, holding your hands and locking pinkies with you, biting your cheeks when he got bored

always kneading your cute chubby tummy like a cat whenever he got the chance

he also loves your neck, like that’s top three on his list of favorite body parts on you. perfect place to leave hickeys and bites :3

“hold still, i’m not done.” miles has been sucking and biting your neck for what seems like hours, your neck was throbbing with pain, you still didn’t even know why he was so intense about giving you these marks. “miles, what the hell are you even doing?” you whimpered into miles ear, he grunted in accomplishment and had a huge smirk on his face. “give me my phone, let me show you my masterpiece.”

you handed him his phone in pure confusion, you rubbed at your sore neck with a pout. “jeez, my neck hurts.” miles chuckled at your complaining, “you could’ve told me to stop at any time, rey.” he unlocked his phone to go to his camera, he placed his hand under your jaw, lifting it upwards to the left. he made sure his hand was in the shot, the whole time he was taking pictures he had a smirk on his face.

“let me see what you’ve been torturing my neck for the past ten minutes for, please.” miles rolled over next to you and handed you his phone, “only because you asked so nicely.” as soon as you saw the pictures you thought you were gonna pass out, miles had somehow sucked his initials in your neck with a bite mark under it. you covered your face in embarrassment, quickly shoving your face in miles chest. “i cant stand you, how am i supposed to walk around with this?” you peaked up at miles who was still just smirking “that’s the point, i want everyone to know that you’re mine and mine alone.”

[voices-in-dark-violets-head]

"Be Yourself", says the Furry Fandom.

And yet, as with many things in life, it's far easier said than done.

I've found that 'being myself' can take a lot of bravery, but I want to tell you why it's so, so important.

Storytime!

At Eurofurence this year, I ran the e621 Gameshow for the third year in a row. And for the third year in a row, we were over capacity. As in, security-comes-in-to-tell-people-to-leave levels of over capacity (Which, my dear sympathies once again with those who had to go!)

We had a crowd that was there for an hour and a half of weird furry porn. Who cheered for horsecock. Who delighted in Falco Lombardi macro art. A hundred people - a quarter of the room - gleefully admitted to being into vore.

The atmosphere was electric, and I hadn't even needed my e-stim kit. This was a crowd who rejoiced in the adult side of the fandom!

And then I asked them - how many people had a fetish they'd be nervous admitting to?

A third of the room raised their hands.

In a room that had been laughing moments earlier about the amount of Mufasa/Simba porn, or getting a 100% success rate on guessing popular cock shapes, 1/3 of them weren't confident in revealing those same parts of themselves.

I don't think this is rare.

I've had folks ask me if I get hate for the kind of art I draw (not really much at all, by the way). But worse, I get people telling me - they wish they could draw what they want, write the characters they love… but they fear what others might say.

I've had commissioners remain anonymous, for fear of people knowing what they're into. Known artists start up alt accounts, so that they can draw a kink without their friends knowing. Writers wringing their hands over possible reactions to their stories.

And I would love to tell you it's all just fear - but truth is, it isn't.

Because it ain't just the big patron sites that are swinging the axe on the 'too weird'. Our own sites - our communities - sharpen their restrictions. Whole kinks, loving and accepted, are now 'too far'.

We're fearing the gaze from the outside. We're hearing their derision. And that can scare us, cause us to hide not just ourselves, but those around us. "What if they think that I'm into that? What would they say? I need to prove I'm not!"

We all crave love and acceptance. And in a fandom formed in rejection from society, don't we just hold such ideals even more tightly? So much so that the very idea of this same community throwing us out - for being ourselves? Of course it's terrifying.

But it turns out, even us outcasts, outsiders… we can all hold prejudices. We all have the ability to draw lines, and give too little thought to what that means. We can so easily turn our own opinions, our fear of what others think of us, into rules that hurt and exclude.

And therein lies the issue. "Be yourself", says the fandom, without stopping to consider how treacherous, how thorned that path can be. To be yourself, sometimes, is to suffer the disgust of those who would tell you to do it in the first place.

But… I'm missing something.

Thing is, this fandom isn't based on any one thing. We're not just here because Zootopia was a kinda cool movie, or Twokinds is pretty sexy, or StarFox looks good when he's fifteen stories tall.

We follow no one IP, no webcomic, no TV show. We follow only one thing:

Ourselves.

WE make the fandom we live in. We're dozens of sexualities, a hundred meetups and conventions, a thousand discord servers and Telegram channels, a million pictures and stories and alt-accounts and roleplays…

We decide what we are.

Aren't we the haven of the weird? The questioning of sexualities? The taboo, even incomprehensible kinks? We joke about vore, knots, gratuitous foot fetishists, but isn't that what makes this place home? Isn't every artist drawing obvious kink art following a beautiful legacy?

We are the monsterfuckers. The maw-obsessed, the paw-sluts, the musk-lovers (er, not that one). With every fetish we draw, every kink we commission, every smut-filled story and problematic character and taboo-laden roleplay…

We're the fandom, making ourselves.

Through being myself, through art and stories and chats and servers, I've found new communities. New friends. New ways to think, new art to enjoy. I've found love, deeper than I ever thought possible.

I've found myself.

And I've been told that through my artwork, stories, friend groups, I've helped people do the same. They've found the words to describe what's been inside them this whole time.

They've found they're not alone.

It's one of the sweetest and most delightful things I've heard.

Yes, it takes bravery to be yourself. You risk being misperceived, either accidentally or wilfully. You risk hurt. You risk confusion. But it's nothing you haven't done before. And in its wake, you will find yourself.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

So when I say to keep furry weird, this is what I mean. Find that part of yourself that yearns to be free, and make this fandom the place for it.

Be yourself. Be so amazingly yourself that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

And Keep. Furry. Weird.

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!royal! reader Summary: Paul Atreides returns from the dead and you must once again consider whether it is really worth it to follow the path he offers you. You also analyze your feelings towards a certain Harkonnen. And you are afraid of what you might conclude from them. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VII ~•♤♤♤•~

"So the Harkonnens attacked your family on Arrakis, and you... you're the only survivor? And you came here on a smuggler's ship with some Fremen who believe that you are their messiah who is to provide them with a better life, freedom and independence?" You make sure, summarising everything Paul has told you over the past few hours.

"In a nutshell." He confirms and nods at you. You watch him carefully. His complexion isn't as porcelain as it used to be. He's more tanned, has a few wrinkles, and his eyes… you can see from them that he's been through a lot.

"Amazing." You sigh, sending him an incredulous look.

"And you ended up engaged to Feyd?" He asks carefully, poking at the stones with a stick. He doesn't meet your gaze. You don't know why, for fear of reading something in your eyes, or of realizing that he's been gone so long, that things have changed so much when he was away.

"In a nutshell." You nod, swallowing as reality hits you with the words he says. You really were engaged to Feyd. And was about do become his wife. FOR REAL.

"Not so amazing... or is it?" He asks carefully and stares at you uncertainly.

"Of course not!" You snort, shaking your head at his absurd question. "I would never… not with HIM. Not after what they did to you and your family, Paul. You're… one of my oldest and dearest friends. You're all I have left." You say and garb his hand in a strong grip.

Paul lifts his eyes to meet with yours. You stare at each other for a moment, and he turns his attention to absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand. He lowers his head and shifts his thoughtful gaze to the ring on your finger.

"Well... I remember times when you wished to be his wife."

"It was... a long time ago. Very long." You say, swallowing hard and unconsciously digging your nails into his palm. Paul doesn't make a sound, he just gently repositions your hand so you don't dig your nails into his anymore.

"You never told me what happened. I mean... I suspect a few things, especially since you and Irulan stopped being so friendly and start to passionately hate each other..."

"I... don't like to talk about it. I never told anyone about what happened then." You sigh, remembering what happened reluctantly. But if you were to confide in anyone, it could only be Paul.

So you start your story.

Caladan had never felt so... cold before. Once it was one of your favourite places on earth. Now as you walked the halls of the palace, you feared for the future the Bene Gesserit witches, the Atreides, your parents, the Emperor, and the Harkonnens had planned for you Caladan isn't anymore such... stunning.

You didn't want to marry Paul. Not when your heart had long since been stolen and molded by someone else entirely.

"Practicing the art of stealth?" The raspy voice right next to your ear sent shivers down your spine. Your body involuntarily tenses as Feyd wraps his arms around you from behind and drags you into one of the palace's side passages. You wonder how the hell he even knows about it, since he's barely been here in the first place. "You were avoiding me, my deadly sweetness. Why?"

"I wasn't." You answer with a sort of confidence, but Feyd knows you perfectly well. He knows you're lying. You don't even know why you bothered to tell him a lie.

"Is it because of the Atreides? I can kill them, the Baron plans to break the peace treaty between us soon anyway."

"Feyd!" You hiss at him and punch him in the arm, giving him a reproachful look. You look around, making sure no one has heard you or will, and continue without looking at him, because you feel like the moment your eyes meet his you'll break down in his arms. And then Feyd would kill hundreds, if not thousands. "No. It's not them. Partially. And I don't want to get you in more trouble than you already are. It took your uncle a long time to get over you killing one of the nobles who… wanted too much from me. And I know, I know. He deserved it, I'm not questioning that, just the way you handled it, but we've talked about this before. Back to the main topic. Yes, I've been avoiding you because I… I… I just don't want to make it harder if they decide to… marry me off to Paul."

The silience that comes after your confession is killing you. You imagined in your head a variety of scenarios. In the worst of them, you are losing him completely.

You wonder if it wouldn't be better for all of you. After all, you and he had always been from different worlds, connected only by one small event in your past that made you care about each other. Eventually, you had to grow up and face reality. You didn't belong together. You never did.

And yet, despite the odds, despite all reason… you had developed true feelings for the young Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you if she knew how vulnerable you had allowed yourself to be towards a man. Not to mention that that man was Na-Barony, heir to Giedi Prime.

You are torn from your dark thoughts by his rough hand, which gently cups your cheek. You hold your breath as he leans towards you, his nose brushing against yours, his forehead resting against yours as he inhales the same air as you. Your heart beats like crazy as you think that he might kiss you, but to your great disappointment, he doesn't. He looks into your eyes, as if he wants to convince himself that you mean anything but leaving him.

"The only prophecy that I accept is that you are supposed to be mine." A soft growl leaves his chapped lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his other hand shaking uncontrollably as the thought of never again being as close to you as he wanted it to be crosses his mind. He couldn't let you go. He wouldn't let you go.

If necessary, Feyd would burn Caladan to ashes, slaughter House Atreides and Corrino, and his own, if it meant he finally got what he truly desired. Someone's willing company, closeness, affection. He was too addicted to your softness to let you go completely. He was too drunk on the sweetness of your scent and innocence to let anyone desecrate it. He was too addicted to you to let anyone rip you from his arms.

"So what are you gonna do? You can't just claim me." You say, swallowing hard. The tension between you grows, the heat from his chest somehow seeping through his black armor, his musky scent mixed with a hint of smoke and metal overwhelming you.

"Can't I?"

Your heart beats faster at his question. The fact that he was practically asking for your permission made your head spin. How easy it would be for him to just give himself over to you. How easy it would be to just let him snatch you away and claim you as his in front of the world. But you knew the consequences. You knew how much he would pay for this. And the last thing you wanted was to cause him more pain and suffering than he had already experienced.

"You know it is not that easy."

"It is that easy. All you had to do is say yes."

"They won't let us do that." You shake your head as if that would dissuade him from that stupid idea. Although… you can't say you're not tempted to just run away with him, far away from here...

"I'm not asking their permission, I'm asking yours. Respect that. I could as well take you here and now. Take you to a ship to Arrakis and make sure we don't return to court without my heir in your womb."

"Thank you for your great grace and not treating me like one of your whores." You mock him and take a step to move away from him, but Feyd grabs you tightly by the arms and presses you against the wall with his body, preventing you from any form of escape.

"Don't try to argue with me. We both know you're more than that. As well as the fact that my idea captivates you as much as it captivates me."

This effectively silences you. It was true. You wanted this. Some twisted part of you did. But you knew perfectly well that you couldn't just refuse to marry Paul and decide otherwise. No matter how much you loved your prince from Lankiveil and wanted to be with him.

"Even if... even if I want it… it doesn't matter. They'll probably marry you off to Irulan. You'll be emperor and soon you'll forget about me. Those are the facts. We should stay away from each other."

You don't give him time to respond. You shrug his hands off you and run away from him. Tears gather in your eyes, but you try with all your might to keep them at bay. You run until you find yourself in the palace gardens.

Dark, black storm clouds stretch over Caladan, a cold wind blowing against your trembling figure. You kneel on the wet grass, and, not caring about the dirt on your dress, you put your hand to your mouth and let out a silent scream. The water soaks your hair and soaks into your clothes, but you don't move an inch. All you can do is cry, fooling yourself that the water running down your cheeks is rain as you bite your fist to keep from making any sound.

Paul is the one who finds you. And bless his sweet soul, he doesn't ask you any questions. He simply scoops you up in his arms and leads you back to the palace, obediently ignoring your quiet snorting. He knows exactly which corridors to lead you through so you don't have to run into any of the servants, and he returns you to the safety of your chambers with the promise that he'll be back to you soon.

In your hopelessness, you can't move, can't force a single coherent thought from your mind that doesn't involve Feyd. And with every tear that's shed, every tremble in your chest and sniffle, you realize that you don't care about anything but him. So you stand up and practically run to the secret passage in your room that connected to his guest chambers.

You wonder what you're going to tell him, how you're going to convey that you've changed your mind, that he can really do whatever he wants with you, just so long as you're his, just so long as you don't have to be apart any longer.

You couldn't; you didn't want to live like that. Not without him. Never without him. And you were terrified at first that he had such a huge influence on you, that you couldn't see your future without him, and that he was able to bring you to a state of mind where you didn't care about anything but him. But if you had to burn in his embrace to finally feel content and happy, then so be it.

But your determination falls apart when you reach his chambers. Everything falls apart.

"You never loved her, did you?" Irulan’s question rings in your ears. You hold your breath in shock, staring through a vent in the wall as she idly plays with the material of his shoulder armor.

"Y/N was… a lovely distraction."You feel his words tearing at your heart. Part of you doesn't believe what he's saying, doesn't want to believe what he's saying. But the other…

"It's quite pathetic. How fate has turned. You know, I used to think you were… a psychopath. Reckless. Dumb. But I can say that those traits fit her a little better now than they do you."

"I have to admit that I had a lot of fun breaking her and shaping her for my pleasure." You freeze in place. Completely.

He couldn't have meant it… but what if he did? What if he was really just playing with you this whole time? What if he really saw you as entertainment, someone to keep him company until he became emperor and could enjoy all the perks that entails?

"Will you have this much fun with me too?" Irulan whispers seductively against his lips, her hand falling to the back of his neck as she pulls him closer to her.

"Even more, my princess." Feyd responds with a growl, and with that, he kisses her like he kissed you not a few hours ago.

You take a few steps back in shock until you fall through the wall behind you. You put your hand to your mouth for the umpteenth time that day, stifling a cry of despair, and close your eyes, completely blocking yourself from what is happening in the room in front of you. You take a few calming breaths and retreat back to your chambers. You lock the passage carefully, making sure several times that no one will be able to get through it and sit down on your bed.

You reach over to your nightstand and pull out a sheet of paper, an inkwell, and a pen. You write, ignoring the ink staining your fingers, not noticing when Paul arrives with tea and biscuits for you, but you gorge yourself on the food like a week-starved man when the last word finally moves from your head to the page. You let him read what you’ve written, staring at him expectantly.

"Lady Whistledown?" He just asks, raising an eyebrow at you as he reaches the signature at the bottom of the page. You nod, placing your cup of tea on the bed.

Two important words from today—the day a completely new version of you was born. Whistle—from the whistle of the wind heard in the mysterious passage, which you still had in your ears when you saw Irulan and Feyd. And down. Complete collapse, the bottom you reached today and from which you promised to bounce back. If they... if he thought you were a pathetic little doll... what worse could happen to you? You couldn't make a bigger fool of yourself than you already had, wasting so much time on him.

"I want to make a difference. Something new. Something no one expects."

"Certainly no one would expect this… and especially not from Irulan. Who is this mysterious lover?" Paul asks curiously, to which you only smile mysteriously.

You take the notes you wrote in the heat of the moment from him and put on your coat to… seek advice on distributing them around the palace before dawn.

"Nobody important." You state, gathering all the confidence you could muster. You lean in and kiss him with the exact same intensity and desire Feyd had kissed Irulan with moments ago.

And though the guilt grows inside you, forming a lump in your throat, you don't break the kiss. You had to adapt to the new circumstances.

Even if the memory of Feyd's lips will always stick in the back of your mind.

"You were together then?!" Paul asks in shock, and you just nod, playing with a stick in the dying fire. "And you told him you didn't want him, and then he and Irulan…"

"You sound like you're about to start defending him."

"No. No. I… I want to understand. If you loved him… why did you run away from him and... start this Lady Whistledown thing?"

"I… I don't know why I ran. I just did. It's not like your parents and mine, the Emperor and the Baron, would let us change anything about how they arranged our futures." Paul nods. He places his hand on yours, making you look up at him.

"You know… he always seemed more human when he was around you." You barely hold back the tears, but you manage it. You nod in thanks and pull him into a hug. He tenses, but after a moment he manages to relax in your arms and hugs you back.

"Maybe it's better that we didn't get married. I guess we're better friends anyway."

"Maybe." He agrees, tightening his grip around you. You sit there for a moment, holding each other, when suddenly the stone doors of the bunker slide open.

You pull away from Paul as if burned, glancing back the way you came. You shove the torch and weapon into his hands and push him deeper into the cave.

"You need to get out of it. Use the emergency exit. We'll contact each other somehow when I get back to the palace. For now, wait in your hideout. I... I promise you they'll pay for what they did to you."

Paul looks at you with gratitude in his eyes and disappears before you can say anything. You sigh and run your hand through your hair nervously, grabbing the small dagger you carried with you everywhere. You hide in the shadows, listening carefully for the intruder's footsteps.

When you see movement in the darkness, you attack. You push the intruder against the wall and put your dagger to his neck. You freeze as your gaze meet a Feyd's blue eyes.

"What are you doing here?" You hiss at him angrily and step away from him, making sure that no part of your body is touching his.

He presses some buttom on his armour, causing a small ball of light to fly out to illuminate the room. He looks around, not giving you an answer yet, as he carefully and suspiciously examines the area around him.

"I should ask you this question." He mumbles and finally turns his accusing gaze to you. You sigh and roll your eyes at him.

"Irulan?" You ask, knowing full well that only she could tell him the location of your secret hideout. "Of course. It is alwasy about her, isn't it?" You mutter to yourself and walk over to the extinguished campfire, ignoring the Harkonnen following you.

"We should come back before they notice that we disappaired." He suggests, but you completely ignore him in favour of building a fire.

He doesn't like it. That's why he suddenly rips the kindling out of your hands and kneels in front of you, putting him at your height. You pull away from him, feeling awkward having his face so close to yours.

"What for? My reputation is already ruined."

"Just because someone wrote..."

"Lady Whistledown is not someone!" You shout, turning your furious gaze back at him. The small glow of the light ball highlights the sharp lines of his jaw even more. You curse him for how disgustingly distracting he is and take a deep breath before continuing. "We both know how... society react to her paper. They will believe everything she wrote."

"Or he." He corrects you thoughtfully, to which you just snort, even more furious.

"Please. It can't be man."

There's a deep silence between you, broken only by your breathing. You try your best to keep a poker face and not give him away in any way how close you are to Lady Whistledown's true identity. But, luckily for you, he seems to be interested in something completely different.

"Why did you run away?" The question is as uncomfortable for you as if he were pestering you about Whistledown.

You swallow and look away from him, mentally reminding yourself like a mantra that it was he—his kin—who killed the Atreides. And he almost killed Paul. Paul, who, despite everything, had been a great support to you when Feyd was gone.

"Maybe that's my thing?" You say, trying with all your might to maintain your hostile attitude.

He didn't deserve anything more; hell, he didn't deserve anything you gave him. You should be thinking about how best to get rid of him, how to kill him, and how to get out of this unwanted marriage to a monster who was once the most precious person on earth to you. But all you can do is be furious at him for not being able to just love him—exactly the way you want to.

"What happened to you?" He asks, furrowing his hairless brows, accusing you of suddenly returning your hostility towards him with redoubled force.

"You! It's always you, damn it!" You scream at him angrily and punch his chest. Feyd stares at you in shock as your dam breaks and you unleash all your pent-up emotions from years past on him. "For 5 fucking years I've pined for you while you fucked your three pets! And probably a ton of other women! You're a disgusting monster who's only good at killing and destroying other people's lives! I hate the influence you have over me and my life! I hate that after everything you've done to me, Paul, and hundreds of others, you have the nerve to stand in front of me and beg for my love, for any feeling other than the disgust I should have for you and your house! I hate you! I hate you with every fiber of my being as much as I love you and it's killing me! So stop it! Stop your sick games and tell me that all of this, all of we went throught is just one of your sick plans to ruin my life! Say fucking something!!"

You are perfectly aware that you are behaving hysterically, that with every cry and hitting at him you are only sinking deeper in your pitifulness and coming off as pathetic, but you can't take it anymore. You can't stand that you love him and hate him at the same time, that you want to burn him to ashes and at the same time immerse yourself in the feeling of his strong arms around you. You are simply tired of fighting with the whole world and with yourself at the same time.

And Feyd, surprisingly, holds you through it all as you fall apart against his chest.

He gently tangles his hand in your hair and pulls you close. You rub your nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and crying quietly as he whispers soft, sweet nothings to you.

Your heart swells with love as you hate him even more for being so sweet and protective towards you.

But you don't want softness. No. Softness won't throw out all the thoughts you have, it won't make you finally feel the blog's emptiness.

So you stand on your tiptoes, digging your nails into his bald head as you pull him in for a kiss.

Feyd groans in shock at your actions. At first, he responds to your kiss instinctively, digging his fingers into your waist and pulling you close to him. Your tongues fight for dominance, and you feel your lungs burn from lack of breath. But you need more. So much more.

Your fingers themselves find their way to the buckles of his armour.

You undress him with a strange skill, and he's too focused on the feeling of your eager mouth on him to realise what you're doing. But when the pads of your soft, delicate fingers touch his skin, he wakes from the frenzy you've put him in.

He pushes you away from him. He breathes deeply, heavily, standing with his chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

"Y/N... wait..." He blurted out, not believing that the words were really leaving his mouth as much as you were. He hadn't imagined that he would be… reluctant and resistant when you initiated anything between you, but if anything, he didn't want to use you in such a state…

"I don't want to." You growl at him furious and move closer to him. Feyd groans when your mouth falls on him again and you loosen the ties of your dress.

You guide his much larger hand to your breast and knead it, making him harden in his pants at the mere touch of you. And fuck he wants more. He wants more so desperately. But he shouldn't. He shouldn't be using you like this.

“Fuck the hate for you out of me.” You demand, not beg or ask, against his mouth and slide your hands along his chest and abdomen to the button of his pants, which do nothing to hide the bulge that grows with every touch and gasp you make. "Make me forget about everything."

And Feyd is just a man, after all. A man who has given in to his desires for years and has never fought them. So after making sure that you want it too, he grabs you hard by the hips and lifts you, forcing your legs to wrap around his hips.

Feyd groans, laying you down by the fire, on stones that are still a little warm from the fire that died down. He tears the remnants of your dress from you, running his tongue along the column of your neck and to your bare breasts.

He sucks on one of your nipples, nibbling on it every now and then out of pure desire to see you howl and scream under his touch or to feel your fingers dig a little harder into his back. He needed to feel you close. He needed to know you weren't going anywhere. He could give you a reason to stay. Like he should have all those years ago.

"Feyd…" You moan softly as his fingers travel to your other breast and play with your nipple. Feyd hardens at the thought that one day, maybe, his children will be the ones to receive your beautiful breasts. And fuck, he's going to make sure of that.

He moves his mouth lower, tracing colors, a red-purple trail of hickeys across your breasts, the valley between them, your stomach, your hips, your thighs, to the place that interests him the most. He growls, nuzzling your wet core and inhaling your scent. He licks once, kittenishly, gently, just enough to get you impatient and savor you before he lunges to devour everything your sweet pussy has to offer.

Your moans and chants of pleasure make Feyd work you even harder, wanting to bring you to a sweet, blissful climax at least twice before he obediently fucks anything other than him out of you.

Feyd exactly feels the moment you're about to come. You dig your heels deeper into his back, your thighs gripping his head as if in some kind of trap, you shake under the thrill he's giving you. He looks at you and can't help but smirk possessively as he watches you, eyes closed, fall apart under his tongue, crying out of pure pleasure and relief.

He wastes no time. Feyd climbs over you, encouraged by your hands as you pull him down on top of you. He rests his forehead against yours and kisses you lazily before, with your help, he gently enters you. He stops when he sees you close your eyes and clench your teeth to keep from hissing in pain. He holds you protectively in his arms and slows your hasty movements. Ironically, he's the one who wants to slow down. He takes no pleasure in your pain and doesn't want to see you suffer. He wants to see the same look of blissful pleasure on your face from moments ago. So, to your protests, he slows down and presses his lips to your neck, sucking little raspberries as his fingers return to your swollen cunt, playing with it as he slowly conquers the deepest parts of you.

And it feels so fucking right and good. For both of you. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his abalaster skin as you draw his black blood, as he pushes himself inside you up to his balls.

You bite your lip, and he growls when he sees you trying to make the sound he has rightly earned sound. He kisses you with such fervour that you barely notice he has begun to thrust into you. His pace gradually increases until it is so fast that you don't register when he leaves you empty and when he completely fills every space in you. All you know is that you are one in this moment. You and him. And it feels so damn good. His lips mark every inch of your skin he can get to, just as your nails leave scratches on his back. You mark each other completely, as if either of you will forget what is happening between you now.

The moment you feel like you're going to fall apart you try to hold back, to come with him, but Feyd won't let you. He thrusts into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do, forcing you over the edge.

The force of his thrusts increases, stimulating your orgasm as he drinks in the sight of you beneath him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, the scream of his name, and the way you dig your wonderful nails deep into the skin of his neck make him come. Your wet walls clench around his aching length as he kisses you one last time with everything he has, wanting to make sure your swollen lips, the hickeys on your body, and the pleasant ache between your legs remind you of how perfectly you both fit together. Hoping you won't run away from him the moment you get the chance.

He clings to you like a frightened little boy, afraid that when the fog of lust lifts you will come to your senses and pull away, push him away, to declare once again your great hatred for him.

But you don't. True, you gently push him off of you and snuggle into his side, completely exhausted, both emotionally and mentally, but you don't walk away completely; you don't throw insults.

Feyd believes that it's only and exclusively because you're too tired to do so.

Without a word, he pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms tightly around you, making sure to cover you with his black paladin first. You fall asleep quite quickly in his arms, allowing him to relax a little too. Feyd places his lips on the top of your head and presses a long kiss there.

"I've never played with you, little swan. It's always been… real. The realest thing I've ever experienced." He mumbles, his heart pounding faster than ever before with his confession. Even though you’re too deeply asleep to hear him, Feyd still finds it nerve-racking to admit it out loud.

For now, he falls asleep with you in his arms, enjoying the small truce between you. He just wonders how long it will last before you decide you hate him too much to even consider touching him.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @peggyao3

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark @forgedfromthestars

@toertche

@emzzlyy

[miistersunshin3]

HIHI no clue if your requests r open but OMG I LOVED UR SAL X MEANGIRL!READER SMM 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ IS THERE A CHANCE WE CLD GET MOREE? 🫶🫶 🍰

Star struck pt. 2 ☆

Sal Fisher x meangirl!reader

a/n : part two yippeeee!! And yes my request are open so feel free to send more *\(^o^)/*

Enjoy!

-...he just couldn't keep staring as you slowly walked away, your hair swaying perfectly with each and every step, did you really just say that to him? it couldn't be, right? he must be dreaming

"sal, dude.. Sal! cmon bro we're gonna be late again, lets go" Larry said slightly annoyed, not having quite witnessed what just happened a few seconds ago.

Sal, having finally just snapped out of the trance you put him in, turned back around to face him and then coming at him with a little sarcastic

"pfft as if you care, weren't you the one that skipped first period today?"

"yeah yeah, lets just go now"

-needless to say you had that boy Star Struck (hihi see what I did there ^_−☆)

-even in the afternoon when the group hung out together, he just couldn't get his mind off of you and that stupid thing you said. Yet he was too nervous to tell his friends, knowing they were opposed to the idea of him liking.

-his friends, of course noticed his behavior, but decided to not comment on it thinking it was probably just him getting into his own head again.

.............................................................………………………

-at night, when everyone was fast asleep, he still caught himself thinking about you. you. you. you. and bless his poor soul, he just couldn't stop.

-with his mask off and his face in his pillow curling up in his bed, the duvet softly covering his body and hair falling freely, he couldn't help but wonder about your reaction to him without the mask. his face, his scarred broken then patched together again face, as he not so much liked to think about it.

-and god you were right, he's just so pathetic: laying in his bed thinking of you while a tear slowly makes its way down the less scarred side of his face. you and your friends make fun of him every day and yet he still feels so deeply connected to you, wanting you to hold him, to love him.

-once he does fall asleep, you even manage to follow him in his dreams: laying side by side together on his bed, with your arms around him and his head on your chest, he didn't have that uncomfortable border between the two of you, just his bare face touching the soft fabric of your shirt. your soft voice in his ears "you know Sal, for me you are truly the prettiest thing" it was like heaven...

-friday, the ninth of august, 06:45. is what the alarm clock read as he softly stirred awake despite not wanting to wake up from his dream. finally after so many nights of restless sleep, he had an actually dream, not one of those nightmares people would also only describe as dreams.

...................................................................…………………

-between periods, as Sal and Ash were making their way to art class, one of the few classes they share, they hear slight laughter and rambling behind them, knowing who it is by the obvious smell of perfume you always use. god it made him crazy.

-his thoughts were quickly disrupted by an obnoxious voice

"hey, you. yeah I'm talking to you blue hair and pigtails, you enjoy being a walking joke?" one of your friends snared.

"no wonder you only hang out with other weirdos, how about you all go back to the freak show your supposed to run?" another one joked making you laugh harder than you should have.

"oh yeah, you'd be the main attraction" you cockily say as you walk past him still smiling.

"fuckin' weirdos" the first one say as she purposefully bumps into Ashley while walking by.

-gosh why did you have to be so mean... and beautiful at the same time

....................................................................…………………

-its not that you hated Sal.. you didn't even dislike him. its just that... he's just so fun to mess with, I mean cmon he's the perfect target, mask and everything. you still weren't quite fond of his friends tho, but they were also okay.

-you did feel bad sometimes after saying something to him, even if he wouldn't react, your first thought with him was always 'did I take it to far now?' which was weird since you've never thought that when you'd do the same things with other people.

-but the sight you were going to witness in a few minutes was unbelievable to you..

..................................................................……………………

-this was truly the worst thing that could happen to him, he was defenseless. so vulnerable, so miserable, so pathetic.

-two of your male 'friends' had caught him alone in one of the storage rooms of the art classroom and decided they wanted to find out what lies under that mask of his.

-with one of them trying to take his prosthetic off and the other holding his hands so he couldn't defend himself even if he tried, he was done for... or so he thought.

-the creek of the door halted their movement only to reveal you, looking as beautiful as ever yet you had a bewildered looking on your face from seeing the scene in front of you.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you say as you look the one wanting to take his mask in the eyes.

"oh cmon, we were just having some fun here, no need to ruin it" the other one spits.

"this is what you call fun? that's pretty sad if you ask me, I mean I get the verbal stuff but don't you think this is a bit too much?" you snap back.

"why the fuck are you defending him right now? he's fucking pathetic look at him" "and...? you know what I think, I think you're being just as if not more pathetic than he is right now, you are nothing (friends names), without me most people in this school probably wouldn't know you so shut it. and don't you dare tell anyone what happened here" you snarl.

"oh and what if we do tell, what are you gonna do, huh? tell your mommy? or the principal?" your other friend says in a fake whiny tone.

"I know what you did to that girl, you know she really did love you so much (friend name 1) it would be a shame if everyone knew that you're a lying cheating skank and not that you guys just broke up normally and oh (friend name 2) I didn't know you had room to talk when literally all you do is hook up with Mrs. Miller every Friday, do you wanna get kicked out of school, I don't think so. and trust me, once I confirm the rumors its over for you"

“You’re no fun” one of them says as they leave.

- silence. pure silence and you decide to break it.

“You okay?” You ask in a genuine tone. He takes a moment to reply speaking with a stutter “yeah, all good”

“Don’t worry I didn’t see anything” referring to his face, you cross your arms and lean against the door frame, he looks down at the ground in shame, his hands slightly shaking.

"do I make you nervous Sal?" you ask teasingly and after that you chuckle slightly as he's frozen in place "its okay, I get it"

a few moments pass when he finally has the courage to look at you again, god why was he like this when he was around you. "you owe me, big time" "yeah" he finally answers "what do you need?" he asks in a slightly nervous voice, he cannot talk to girls for the life of him (look at his first encounter with Ash in the game (=´∀｀))

you start to think, what do you need..? he then speaks again "I'll get you anything you want" nervousness still ringing in his voice "woah, don't get to ahead of yourself weirdo" you tease.

as you slowly leave the room you say "I'll think of something, sweetheart" you send him a quick smile while leaving and not to forget that wink you shot him once before.

-meanwhile he thinks he’s died because of that nickname, but don’t worry your smile brought him back to life, you just really know how to make his heart flutter. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

..................................................................……………………

a/n : I hope you guys enjoyed(≧∀≦) if you have any wishes feel free to send me requests!! (P.s I love bullying Sal hihi)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: One Night

G/N. Crazy Stupid Love Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling scene but make it Lookism. Masterlists

"Are you nervous?" Goo murmurs, a smile tugs at his lips when he feels you trembling.

He peers down at you and pauses. His hand, having worked its way under your top and caressing your bare skin - stops.

Tonight, you have aimed for sexy and sensual. It worked well. Fake it until you make it, and you made it when this handsome blonde at the bar invited you back to his apartment for a night of debauchery.

But your mask slips. It's hard to keep it on, y'know. When you are both half naked, about to be even more naked, there's nowhere left to hide.

Your nervousness comes out as a snort, because duh and you think some of your previous sexy and sensual points are deducted.

"Yeah," you respond with an awkward giggle. Then your mouth runs before your single brain cell can.

"- Also, something has been digging into my back all this time," Goo waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, "No. Definitely not. I think it's a spring or something or I don't know... crumbs? Have you been eating in bed? Either way I think this is the most uncomfortable mattress I've ever laid on. Your silk bed sheets are something else though - who even has silk bed sheets? It's like something from the 80s along with waterbeds but god they feel so fucking great on my legs."

Goo is stunned into silence momentarily before he barks out a laugh.

He rolls off you and onto the left side on the bed, full body wriggling around slightly, experiencing the silk bed sheets for himself and chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're right. And I've always hated this mattress." He sighs, adding, "I got conned by fucking influencers."

You whip your head towards him and give him a look, "Influencers?! What. Is this those fancy brands that I've been seeing them shill all over my social media-"

Goo turns towards you, a pout on his lips and eyebrows pinched together in a pitiful expression. "Yep. I've hated it since the first night."

"Then why didn't you return it!"

He shrugs and you laugh, your previous nervousness dissipating.

"I always wondered what idiot would fall for those."

"Hey!"

A brief moment of silence then-

"Did you buy these sheets from an infomercial or something?"

"Excuse me!" Goo shuffles, angles himself so he's fully facing you. Head held up by the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the mattress.

There's mischief, life in his face that wasn't there earlier tonight. "Sue me. I have money to spend, sometimes I can't sleep, and those sales people sell things so well."

You let out another unrefined snort, amused by this guy.

Suddenly finding there's so much personality, a touch of vulnerability revealed in that statement, behind the expensive glasses, his tailored suit and his muscled body.

"Wanna see what other crap I've bought?"

.

.

You both wander around his apartment, which turned out to be a huge fucking penthouse now that he has the light on and is giving you a guided tour, in your underwear. 

Goo, no shame and expanses of skin on show, and you follow closely behind with his silk sheets wrapped loosely around your body.

He gestures at what you assume to be a coffee machine sitting proudly on his kitchen countertop. All sleek and stainless steel with dials and buttons on every surface.

"I can't even use this thing. I've had it for 2 years."

"Look," Goo opens an overhead kitchen cupboard, gesticulating like he's going to perform a magic trick, and dramatically shows you rows and rows of trendy kitchen gadgets, no doubt also purchased during moments of insomnia. Pizza scissors, spiralizer, bread maker, air fryer, pressure cooker.

"Never used."

"This," he points at the far wall, and you squint, barely making out a framed art piece of the ugliest monkey face you have ever seen. But hey, art is subjective, right-

"-is an NFT. I bought that too."

That tips you over the edge.

You cackle and cackle, doubled over and holding onto him for balance.

.

.

There's a dusty segway sitting pitifully in the corner of an unused spare room.

You jump out from round a corner, LED mask on your face and flashing a menacing red - "Boo!"and Goo actually jumps.

A lonely treadmill, placed beneath one of those fancy sit-stand desk catches your eye.  Goo smirks, "Babe, I don't even have a desk job."

Instead of spending all night tangled in his silk bedsheets together, Goo jogs down memory lane of sleepless nights and impulse buys with you by his side.

Your laughter starts to tinge all his memories.

Your good natured ribbing and mocking.

His hyena cackle joins yours, and he wonders when was the last time he was able to laugh with someone. Has he ever spent an entire night talking to someone like this?

"Ask me something personal." He requests, both now lying on his uncomfortable bed. You in his arms, hair tickling his chin.

"What do you want from life?"

"To make money."

"Why?"

"I want to be rich."

"Why?"

"Well, who doesn't want to be rich, sweetheart."

"Yeah but why do you?"

Goo remembers running errands, doing anything to earn some money. Anything for a price. His cousin calling in his services, and he happily beat up some middle schoolers to help him (and who was it again, Tabasco?) out.

He doesn't really know where his thirst for money making has come from. Maybe there's some deep set trauma from his life pre-juvie or some shit he should pay a therapist to decipher but alas.

He tells you this, all this and more. At some point, his head is the one lying on your chest and you absentmindedly stroke through his blonde locks, humming noises of encouragement, listening to his words.

Weird, Goo thinks, when he finally drifts off to sleep with you snoring gently beside him. 

The morning sun already filters through the blinds, and the hustle and bustle of Seoul has started to pick up.

How comfortable this feels. How natural your connection with him is. How this is the spark people dream about, and somehow it has hit him when he wasn’t looking for anything more.

That someone as different to him as you are, that is only ever supposed to be company for a few hours, a night at best, could spell trouble. Raise his hackles, send his alarms blaring.

When he's usually the walking red flag.

Because you’ve got him thinking. A lot. That shrewd brain hidden behind playfulness has been whirring; wondering about what happens if you become a regular fixture.

Maybe you might doom him, in the end. Maybe this will lead to a dead end and nothing more.

But he's curious enough, the spark is shining brightly enough, to see where else you might lead him to too.

[missmonsters2]

—Lips Over Your Nightmares

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares haunt you every time you close your eyes, and Wednesday offers a solution in the form of comfort only she is capable of.

Warnings: Soft!Wednesday. Possessive!Wednesday. Intimate. Wednesday ran out of patience. Emotionally charged confessions. Kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I said wednesday is soft for her girl and I will take no arguments about it. The act of kissing in this fic is peak wlw. I'm sleeping on the highway tonight and taking you all with me.

Count: 2.6k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Nighttime could be hellish.

It was probably why Wednesday adored it so much. 

You loved it too. There was something divine about the nighttime. People feared the dark, but you saw it as an opportunity to rest your weary eyes and bones. The night gave way to being invisible, and there were some days when that was all you could bear to be. 

But to Wednesday Addams, who loved the dark, you could never be invisible to her.

It was a blessing and a curse. 

To be seen by Wednesday—it was something more than many people could ever hope for. 

But to be seen when you wanted to be invisible? It was like being dragged without anything to hold onto. 

Nighttime was hellish, and you wanted to disappear into the dark as your nightmares plagued you until you couldn't even tell what was the dream and what was the reality.

But Wednesday Addams saw you. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

You've missed Enid's late-night studying session again. It's the second week in a row that Enid's gotten a text from you two minutes before the session started.

"I guess we can start," Enid told the group with a disappointed smile. "She's not coming today either."

"Fuck," Xavier sighed. "She's the only one who's good at art restoration. I was hoping she'd help me with my assignment."

Wednesday's face scrunched together mildly, and Xavier rolled his eyes. "Except for you, Wednesday. But you hate teaching me and I hate learning from you."

"I can't help it if you're stupid," Wednesday dully replied. 

"Not all of us can do it perfectly after being told what to do—told only once might I add," Xavier raised his brow at her.

Wednesday shrugged, which only seemed to irk Xavier more and to prevent them from bickering further, Yoko turned to Enid and asked, "Why isn't she coming?"

Enid shrugged, her lips quirked to the side as they pressed together. "She texted to say she wasn't feeling well and couldn't make it."

"She does seem tired lately," Bianca commented, her expression in deep thought as she recalled the last two weeks when she saw you. "Also, really quiet. Well, quieter than she normally is."

There were murmurs of agreement around while Wednesday sat silently. Of course, she also noticed, but she was waiting for you to say something to her. You always told her whatever was plaguing you, even when Wednesday told you she didn't ask. Wednesday was used to hearing your mundane thoughts or solving your problems. 

But there was nothing this time, and Wednesday couldn't figure it out. She tried to think back to see if anything had changed—if something had happened, but there was nothing. 

Two weeks of leaving you be was enough, though, Wednesday decided as she packed her things into her bag.

"What! Wednesday, are you leaving too?" Enid groaned. "But I need help with botanical sciences!" 

"Ask Bianca," Wednesday didn't even look up.

Enid looked at the siren, who had a deceitful, happy smile.

"I'd be happy to help you, Sinclair. Let's talk The Poe Cup negotiations first."

"Absolutely not!" Enid scoffed before turning back to Wednesday with pleading eyes. "Wednesday..." she whined.

"Ask Xavier," Wednesday didn't budge.

"But all he does is draw in class. There's no way he's doing well."

"I'll have you know I'm getting a C," Xavier looked affronted.

Enid merely stared at the sullen boy for a long moment before she turned back to Wednesday. "I'll just wait for you tomorrow after school."

Xavier was about to say something else when Wednesday briskly nodded, standing up and leaving the group behind without another word. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was completely silent on the other side of your door, and from its looks, it was dark as no lights were shining underneath it.

Wednesday knocked in three successions. 

There was no answer. 

If it were anyone else, they would've believed you weren't there and left, but not Wednesday.

No, she knew you far too well. 

This was a place where you could truly be invisible with no roommate.

Wednesday knocked insistently until she heard shuffling, an agitated huff, and footsteps approaching the door. 

The door only opened marginally. You looked mildly surprised to see her, but Wednesday supposed you had too little energy to manage anything more. 

There were dark circles under your eyes, and they looked puffy and slightly red around the edges from lack of sleep. Your skin was pallor, which suited someone like Wednesday, but she decided it was not on you. Your hair lacked its usual shine, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she finished scrutinizing you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly. 

"Are you going to just let me stand out here?"

"I'm not in the mood for company, Wednesday," you blinked slowly. 

It was new.

You were usually happy for Wednesday's company whenever she stopped by, and you often visited her dorm. 

"I have had enough of this," Wednesday glared at you through the gap in the door. "You will let me in."

"And if I don't?" You challenged back, and Wednesday almost wanted to applaud the snippy attitude you've mustered through the tiredness.

"Then I will wait out here and ensure you don't get a. Single. Wink. Of. Sleep." It was a threat that tugged at your nerves. You looked at Wednesday, and for a brief moment, she thought she won before you shut the door in her face. 

Disbelief clouded over Wednesday's eyes. 

Then, Wednesday began to knock incessantly over and over on your door. Her knuckles knock with a vengeance, and she'll be damned if you think she doesn't take absolute joy in torturing you. 

It worked because you open the door wider this time, as you stare at Wednesday with a glare.

"What part of 'I'm not in the mood for company' was unclear, Wednesday?" Your voice was gruff, and Wednesday could tell that you were still trying to not snap at her despite how tired you were. 

And that in itself was everything. It was like that all the time. 

You were always trying to be considerate of whatever feelings you thought Wednesday might have while gently pushing her to admit which ones she was truly feeling. 

Maybe that was why Wednesday could never leave you alone now.

You were a gateway to things Wednesday never wanted, and she genuinely thought you should pay for making her desire things she swore she'd never want. 

"Say you don't want my company then," Wednesday said haughtily. 

Wednesday knew you wouldn't—couldn't, even. You never would. 

Just as you were her exception, she was yours. 

You pursed your lip at her, starting to close the door swiftly, and Wednesday stuck her foot partially into your room, preventing you from shutting the door in her face again.

"Wednesday!" You called her name, concerned you might've hurt her when the door hit her foot, but the macabre girl used the opportunity to press her palm flat against your door and pushed it wide open.

She took a step forward menacingly, forcing you to take a step back. She took another step, and you took another one back. When she was inside your room fully, she used the back of her heel to shut your door.

The resounding click of it made you swallow.

"Wednesday," you clenched your jaw, fighting against something you weren't even really sure why. But you were terrified—of her, you don't think, but rather what she was capable of doing to your heart.

"I have been patient," Wednesday's voice is quiet, but her tone is sharp, expressing every bit of her lost tolerance. "I have waited for you silently."

Wednesday kept walking towards you, backing you up until your back bumped into your desk. She looked positively irritated. "I have even refrained from saying a single unkind thing despite them running through my mind at the sight of you moping at whatever has been keeping you up at night."

"How did you know—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Wednesday's eyes flashed dangerously at your insinuation. You shook your head.

"Then you must take me for a fool with endless patience," Wednesday glared at you. "I don't take kindly to the kind of games you're playing."

"I'm not playing anything—"

Wednesday cut you off again. "Then explain concisely what has been keeping you up and why you've been keeping it to yourself."

Silence filled the room as you didn't speak, but Wednesday had already waited this long. She could wait a little more. 

Wednesday watched how you gripped the edge of your desk, your finger tapping underneath in rapid succession before you closed your arms over her chest. 

The stance was defensive, but you looked more reluctant than wary.

"I'm having nightmares about you."

The admittance stunned Wednesday, and she didn't know how to take it. Initially, it felt like a compliment because nightmares were so fascinating and exhilarating to experience, and Wednesday hoped to have nightmares every night she slept based on that logic. 

But you were not her. 

Nightmares, illogically, were typically not desirable.

"Wednesday, I—" You swallowed. "I have feelings for you. You're the best and worst part of my days because I actually feel clinically insane everytime I see you, spend time with you and then have to face the fact that you're not mine and I'm not yours."

Wednesday's jaw clenched, and it was noticeable. She wanted to open her mouth and demand how you could feel the exact same way she did, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue on. 

"And I have nightmares about losing you," you confessed. "I have nightmares about losing you to Tyler or another deranged supernatural being. I have nightmares about losing you to Xavier or Enid or somebody like Tyler, minus the whole mass genocide. I have nightmares about losing you in every single imaginable way, only to wake up and realize you're not mine, and you can't lose what you don't have."

"I can't tell if the nightmare is when I'm asleep or when I'm awake." You put your hands to your face, laughing hollowly. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, burning as they were so dry from lack of sleep. "I think I'm going crazy."

Wednesday wanted to tell you that going crazy was supposed to be wonderful. But she, herself, has been experiencing the whirlwind of elation and torment you put her through and believed that going crazy wasn't as wonderful as she thought. 

But Wednesday decided then and there that there was no way up from crazy. And while it's unfortunate that she's not the brand of crazy like Uncle Fester, she's been driven mad nonetheless. It's the only thing that could explain all of this and everything that's about to come. 

Wednesday grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from her face. No visions plague her, and all she knows is that this meant her decision wouldn't end in misfortune and it wouldn't drive her down a lonely path. 

"Enid's not expecting me back tonight," Wednesday told you as she dragged you over to your bed. Her succinct tone leaves no room for you to ask any questions. 

"Um, okay?" You said anyway, thrown off by her response and feeling exhaustion saw at your bones, dragging the invisible knife back and forth.

Wednesday guided you to get into bed, and you complied. Resignation settled over you as you rested your head on your pillow. It was cold again with you being away from it, but it brought no comfort. 

You lay facing the wall, about to pull the blanket up to your chin, when you heard something drop against the floor. You turned your head and saw that Wednesday had set her backpack down, and now she was zipping off her sweater, hanging it on the pole of your bed frame, leaving her in her black long-sleeve.

Wednesday took her shoes off before using every bit of her vulnerability to steadily and carefully climb into bed with you. It was dark, with only a little light from the moonlight shining just barely into the room, and you could make out the barest hint of her features and knew she was staring intently at you, trying to ascertain if this was a boundary both of you could bear to cross. 

Her touch was slow and hesitant, revealing this was something she's never done before, but the moment you were in her arms, you clicked into place like a puzzle piece. 

Wednesday was cool against your body, but she was warming from your touch and shared heat trapped under the blanket. She smelt like rain and dry leaves, and you felt like you were going insane. You buried your face into her neck. 

Wednesday wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, allowing the things she's been desiring for a while to come to fruition. She couldn't tell if this was making her saner or driving her closer to insanity.

It was deliriously pleasant.

"Who said you're not mine?" Wednesday muttered into the shell of your ear.

It's suddenly not enough, and Wednesday now knew the answer was that it was driving her closer to insanity. 

Wednesday pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes that were so tired just moments ago. The dark circles remained, but you were wide awake, speckles of oblivion in your eyes.

Despite how everything else changed as you became sleep deprived, your lips still remained full and soft. 

Wednesday moved to close the gap, sighing softly as her lips slanted against yours. 

How could she feel like jagged glass, splintered and sharp, while you felt so soft, practically melting around her serrated edges?

Wednesday only pulled back marginally, cupping your jaw and the back of your neck. "Who told you that you don't already have me? I want names."

You couldn't even think straight with how her breath felt on your lips. You pushed forward again, pressing your lips against Wednesday's insistently.

Was it possible for reality to be better than a dream? 

Your lips slotted over Wednesday's over and over and over. Wednesday tugged at your bottom lip, smoothing over it with her tongue before it dipped at the edge of your mouth where your tongue met hers. 

It was dizzying, something that frequently happened to Wednesday when it was too warm. She usually hated the sensation of it, but, of course, as many things were exceptions when it came to you, this was one of them too. 

"Your nightmares are inane."

You couldn't help but laugh against Wednesday's lip. 

"I think I am actually insane," you grinned, and you saw a ghost of something similar on Wednesday's lips. 

"Sleep," Wednesday ordered you, kissing you chastely initially but ending up biting your bottom lip tenderly. Her hands pull you closer, her lips resting on your forehead. "I'm here, so nothing will plague you."

The softness of Wednesday is unimaginable, and you're nearly skeptical.

"But—"

"No." Wednesday countered bluntly. "I'm telling you that I'm here and yours. You may come to regret it, knowing how...difficult I am. But you're stuck with me. Congratulations," Wednesday tilts her head slightly, brushing against yours, "or condolences."

But you could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, and it was dark, and you were so tired, but you were close enough to hear Wednesday's heartbeat. 

Your lips tingle from Wednesday's kisses. You felt your eyelids grow heavy along with your body, and the way Wednesday shifted told you she was satisfied.

Nighttime could be hellish, but Wednesday Addams saw you—she always would. And all she had to do was put her lips over your nightmares.