#wrote something much darker for a change

[qingxin-dream]

“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

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This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy’s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[satoruhour]

AFTER MISSION HOURS

a/n: mb guys, i cant escape the soft dom allegations i just love it too much. but gojo is a little rougher in this. wrote this as a result of the latest jjk ep and uuuhhhhhmmmm imma need him to be angry more CAAUUUUSEEEEE .....

warnings: sorta rough dom!gojo, fem!reader, face-fucking, deep-throating, oral (m receiving), multiple rounds, unprotected sex, spitting on your pussy, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, creampie / breeding kink, aftercare and cute gojo at the end, n*sfw under the cut

“s— satoru?” you’re taken aback when he stalks through the door, almost making a dent in the wall from how hard he slams it open and the darkness of the front door light does his eyes justice in showing just how bright they are. albeit a little less blue and swirling with something darker and you’re taken aback when he finally walks up to you and seizes your wrist.

“’toru— you should go see shoko—!” you’re surprised when he whirls you around and nods his head towards the big sofa wordlessly and while you’re not a stranger to gojo’s outbursts when you’re arguing about how he needs to value his life more or when he’s uptight from a stressful meeting with the higher-ups, but never like this. frankly, you’ve never even had to courage to tell him all the times he’s stared at you with hooded eyes and a frown etched onto his face, you had to hold yourself back from jumping him.

but now he’s taking matters into his own hands.

you yelp in shock as he pushes you onto your hands and knees and you look back at how he kneels in front of your slowly soaking underwear. gojo plants his hands on your ass and kneads, bringing his nose right up to your pussy lips and licks a stripe over the fabric.

“so wet jus’ from that? fuckin’ slut,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear and you’re ashamed to admit that you like it a little too much when you let out a small whine unknowingly. “oh? like it when i call you a little slut?”

he makes sure to spit out the last part and his anger and stress lowers a little just seeing how you wiggle your butt closer to him and a smile spreads on your face. there’s a little twinkle in your eye when you see the way your boyfriend’s hands make their way down to his pants but he stops short, larger hands wrapping around your waist to flip you over. thank god the couch was big, and he inches his way up your body.

“c’mon. take my cock out,” he’s staring at you from above, a sight you weren’t used to, rather more accustomed to having him below you but this new change sends chills right down to your core. you tug at his pants impatiently and satoru watches with a close eye how you scramble to pull down his underwear and the way your lips part slightly. gojo hums softly when you start stroking it to full hardness and the awe on your face is just so adorable.

“suck.” you didn’t need to be told twice, bringing his angry weeping tip right to your mouth to suckle the pre-cum out of it and your eyes flick up just as he smirks. your mouth’s so full of him, moaning around his length as you bob your head in the uncomfortable position. “all ya good for, huh? made just f’r suckin’ me off.”

this gojo was miles off from your loving boyfriend but you loved it all the same, nodding and hollowing your cheeks and using your hands for the places you can’t reach. your mouth and hands were no comparison to your tight cunt but they’re second best, so warm and pliant. you stare up at him before coming off and drool drips down the side of your mouth.

“fuck my mouth, satoru,” your pleading eyes are too much for him, both hands still stroking him non-stop as you mix in your saliva with his pre-cum, lewd noises filling the hall. “please?”

gojo simply laughs, a laugh that definitely says i should do this more, “sure, baby.”

and while his stress is immediately gone from seeing you beg, he’s not any more gentle as he lines his cock along your lips and holds onto the arm rests of the couch and fucks your face. the first thrust into your mouth, he moans out loud before his hips move quicker and quicker and you have hardly any time to adjust. your fingers squeeze his thighs with each ram into you, tip kissing the back of your throat you swear you can feel him in your stomach. you’ve learned to hold your breath even when your nose meets with his untrimmed pubes, eyes never breaking contact as he slams into you.

“mouth s’good— s-shit . .” gojo chuckles breathlessly when he hears you gurgle on his fat cock, feeling your tongue massage the base of his dick. the obscene gawking noises only gets louder when he pushes himself right to the limit, obsessed with how your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can make little noises around him. he gives a little quick glance to see your playing with yourself and he swears under his breath, pulling his hips back and letting you breathe. “filthy girl. jus’ need me so bad.”

“y—yeah satoru. wanna take your mind off . . work,” you mumble, eyes focused on how his cock twitches and leaks pre-cum from his tip and you just wanna make him feel so good — you’re not even that big on the whole housewife thing, but the way gojo treats you? you’d be on your knees all day if you could, taking his warm cum down your throat. 

“yeah? cute lil thing you are.” he taunts, bending his body so he could be inches from your face even as you continue pumping him and he’s trying not to lose composure. his eyes bore holes into your face from how hard he stares at you, breath shaky as your hands move under his jujutsu uniform and all over his upper body.

“use me.” it comes so abruptly even you are surprised, knowing how you liked to be more passive in your sex life and still, this is your first step out of your meekness. “take it all out on me, satoru.”

gojo’s chest heaves and he silently pulls away to face your cunt, removing your panties and he really wants to give you everything slowly like he likes it. he wants to see you cry as he rocks into you with gradual grinds but when you tell him something as dirty as that — he’s doing anything but that.

“haah . .” satoru sighs at your clenching pussy, dragging his tip up and down, up and down your folds and just seeing your juices just flow and flow and he’s hypnotised, “careful what you wish for, darling girl.”

you barely have time to register his warning before he slams into you and you’re screaming. it’s easy from how wet you are and it takes a small while as you adjust to his thrusts and gojo uses your body like a ragdoll. he hovers over you as your legs are limp and unsure of where they should go. this little dilemma isn’t lost on satoru, grabbing your ankles and holding them as his hips move relentlessly and this has your hips lifting off the sofa; he easily reaches your g-spot like this.

“satoru— fucking g-god! satoruuu . . !” you moan at the roughness of his ministrations, thinking you were free from the assault when he lets your ankles rest on his shoulders but all he does is spit on your pussy. a perfect shot and he rubs it in with his thumb and it has you whining out loud at the sudden stimulation, “t-too much!”

“you can take it.” gojo simply mumbles, thumb drawing timed circles on your clit as he watches his cock disappear into you. “can do it when you’re clenchin’ around me this hard.”

gojo grins, sickly.

“ah! my pretty little slut did it again.” the names were an exact opposite from the softer praise you were used to, and still they have you biting your lips and giggling in between moans, letting him fuck you like the cocksleeve you are.

“breed me, ’toru. need it—!”

“that right?” gojo slams into you at the speed of an animal, clearly still high-strung from the mission and notices how you still are making sure he cums first. the thought makes his hips stutter paired with seeing your doe eyes as little pants leave your mouth and he needs to pull away from your clit to hold onto your thighs before he cums and cums and cums. your back arches at the feeling and a soft moan is heard from your lips at how it starts to fill you up.

gojo wastes no time to pull out and see his cum spill out of you before he’s doing a circular motion with his finger and you’re lying on your stomach like a good girl. you melt when you feel him scoop it all up, pushing the escaping cum right back into you and your head sinks into the cushions while your ass only pushes more into him.

“hol’ on, baby, got another load for ya,” this thrust is wet. you can basically hear his cum struggle to stay in you to the point where his cock is coated in a thin layer of white and you can only moan out for him from below. he shuts you up but pressing you deeper into the sofa, a harsh hand on your lower back and your ass sticks out more.

“thaaat’s it . .” gojo smirks, licking his lips as he watches your ass ripple from the contact. each drag of his cock into your warm, cute pussy, his eyes are there, and each spurt of your arousal and his cum as his pelvis meets yours, he’s searing it into his brain, “this what you mean by using you?”

you’re murmuring “yeah”’s into the sofa, knees and arms suffering from fabric burn from how much your body was moving, and yet his throbbing cock is just too good. your mouth falls open when satoru reaches around to rub at your clit again and your hands fly to hold onto his wrists, “oh— right there, ’toru . .!”

it’s all too much for you, the previous load of cum spilling onto the couch below you, the filthy sounds of slapping skin and the sloppiness of your pussy that it’s even having gojo moving aimlessly into you, rather just rutting in you messily.

“g’na cum again— f-fuck,” gojo swears as his fingers on your clit are more frantic to try to match his pace while he props a leg up onto the sofa and you thrash against his hold because his tip brushes against your cervix so good that you’re convulsing in the next second, whining and mewling as you cum all over his cock.

he can feel your cum and the sorcerer moans, switching to short, impatient thrusts into your tight cunt and his grunts merges with calls of your name, eyes scrunched up as he shoots his second orgasm into you. you try to grab at something as there’s the familiar feeling of his tip releasing ribbons of cum deep into your womb, but you come up short, settling rather to dig your nails into fabric.

“take my load like the cock drunk whore you are,” gojo grunts out lowly, grinding his hips into you just to get his last drops of cum into you and he has the audacity to massage at your lower back while your body’s still reeling from the intense high and yes, his anger is quelled a little but each time you’re with gojo satoru there’s always surprise ambushing you from every corner.

you gasp when he pulls you up and pulls you against his chest, moving his hips in an experimental thrust right into you and you’re sagging over his strong arms that hold you up, whining incoherently as you struggle to stay awake.

“alright, alright,” satoru laughs softly, pressing a peck to your cheek, “needa thank my baby for letting me use her.”

you barely manage a smile, turning back to him with a raise of your eyebrow, “can still go . . ’toru . .”

he hums, and pulls you off of him slowly, dick jumping just a little when he hears a choked moan leave you at the feeling of his cum dripping from your cunt but he steels himself, “hm, don’t think so, princess.”

you pout, immediately turning around to hug him close to you and gojo’s heart flutters at your cuteness. he sighs at your adamant stance, easily standing up with you wrapped around him and carrying the two of you to the master bathroom.

“let’s clean up and we’ll see if you’re awake enough to go again, alright?” satoru whispers to you before turning on the shower, and later when he’s stuck in the toilet tidying up his pubes (he saw how uncomfortable you were earlier) and he’s letting you take the bed first, there’s a perplexity and small fear that overcomes the male at the lack of answer when he calls out to you.

but gojo comes out to you slipping in and out of consciousness with only his shirt whilst hugging his pillow and he smiles to himself, getting dressed as quickly as possible and slipping in beside you. a soft smile is still plastered on his face when you naturally curl into his warmth and mumble out a soft i still had stamina, satoru.

“shh, go to sleep, baby,” satoru tugs you closer into him and he wonders if there’s any way to love you even more than he already does, “we have all the time in the world, silly girl.”

shibuya incident? tf is that?? never happened bitch

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[ghsface]

double pleasure - Matt and Chris Sturniolo

Sumary: ur fucking with Matt and accidentally shout Chris's name. Matt challenges you to indulge your desires that you have with chris. The night turns into a wild threesome

Warnings: smut +18, threesome, matt and reader are a couple, sexual tension, explicit content, use of fingers, unprotected sex (don't do it), dom!chris, dom!matt, sub!reader the reader feels empowered in a moment idk if that makes sense.

A/n: I'm collecting stuff from my drafts that I once wrote, I apologize if this doesn't make sense or is somewhat poorly written, I wrote this 2 months ago, the only thing I remember is that I was horny when I wrote it bye. the ending is shit i'm sorry

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

The heat between you and Matt had always been undeniable, an intense and passionate connection that seemed to burn every time your bodies met. However, there was something that ate at you inside, a small detail that, without you realizing, had slipped away one night.

The room was dark, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, as you and Matt continued to be lost in the rhythm of your bodies. Your hands clung to him, your lips saying his name between gasps… until, in an instant, his name was replaced by that of his brother. Chris. You had moaned his name in the midst of passion, and Matt, to your surprise, had acted as if he hadn’t heard it. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t change the rhythm. He just continued, bringing you to ecstasy as he always did.

Since that night, you felt more restless, waiting for some sign of annoyance or some sarcastic comment. But nothing. Matt was still the same, loving, attentive, not a single word about what had happened. Sometimes you thought maybe he hadn’t even heard. But every time you saw Chris, a spark of guilt ran through your body, mixed with something darker, something you didn’t want to admit.

One night, you decided to surprise Matt. You put on a set of black lingerie that you knew he would love. You looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure every detail was perfect before settling into bed, waiting for him to arrive. Desire burned within you as you imagined what would happen as soon as he walked in.

You heard the door open and the sound of footsteps approaching. You bit your lip, ready to see Matt’s expression when he found you like this. But, when you looked up, it wasn’t just Matt who entered the room.

Chris was with him.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, confusion replaced desire. You looked at Matt, waiting for an explanation. But he just smiled, a smile you hadn’t seen before, something dark in his eyes.

“You know,” Matt said as he closed the door behind Chris, “I’ve been thinking about what happened that night.”

Your body tensed, a shiver running through you. He had heard it.

“I thought maybe you hadn’t heard it…” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Matt laughed softly and shook his head. “I heard it very clearly.” He took a step closer to the bed. “You moaned my brother’s name while you were fucking me. And honestly, it took me a while to process it. But then I thought… if you want him so much, why not let you have him?”

Chris, who had remained silent until that moment, was looking at you with an intensity that made you shiver. You didn’t know what to say. The words were stuck in your throat as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Matt…” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not mad. In fact, I think this could be… interesting.” Matt moved closer to the bed, his hand gently caressing your cheek before moving to your chin, tilting your face up so you were looking at him. “If you want Chris so much, show me. Fuck him.”

The room filled with an electric tension as Matt’s words hung in the air. You looked at Chris, his breathing seemed heavier, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and wariness. You knew you could stop all of this at any moment, but something in you didn’t want to. The thought of being between the two brothers made you feel something you’d never experienced.

Without another word, Matt pulled away, leaving you with Chris.

Chris stood still for a moment, his eyes roaming every inch of your body covered in that lingerie that, now, seemed much more revealing. You felt the tension in the air, that feeling of being at the center of something forbidden and dangerous.

The silence in the room was deafening, but you could hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Slowly, Chris took a step towards you, his gaze darkened by desire and uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice huskier than you’d heard before.

You looked at Matt, searching for any hint of regret or doubt on his face. But he just crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, watching the scene with an almost predatory expression.

“Do it,” he murmured, his tone soft but full of authority.

Your breathing quickened, and the heat in your body intensified. It was a situation you would never have imagined, but there was something about the idea of ​​being with Chris, with Matt there, watching, that made you lose control.

Chris finally approached the bed, his hand gently brushing your leg. You felt a shiver run down your spine, as he slid his fingers along the fabric of your lingerie, as if he were exploring unfamiliar territory.

“I never thought this would happen,” Chris murmured, his eyes locked with yours as his hand slowly moved up your thigh.

“Me neither…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Chris leaned into you, his warm breath caressing your skin. His lips brushed your neck, and you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his body so close to yours. But before you could do anything else, you heard the sound of Matt moving behind you.

“Don’t forget about me,” Matt said, his voice low and almost teasing.

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his. Matt moved closer to the bed, his hand wrapping around your waist as Chris continued to kiss your skin. The contrast between the two of you was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the pleasure of having the two of them so close.

Chris took your face in his hands, his lips finally meeting yours in an intense, almost hungry kiss. You felt the weight of his body on you, as Matt stayed by your side, watching every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

The room seemed smaller, the air heavy with tension and desire. There was no turning back now, you were trapped between the two brothers, each claiming a part of you.

Chris deepened the kiss, and you felt his tongue explore every corner of your mouth, slow and possessive. There was a restrained strength in his movements, as if he had been waiting for this moment longer than he was willing to admit. His firm hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every fold of the fabric that barely covered you.

Matt, meanwhile, knelt on the bed behind you, his fingers sliding down your back to the edge of the lingerie, slowly pulling it down. The touch of both of them on your skin made you lose track of everything around you except them. Their breaths mixed with yours, their hands synchronized, creating a symphony of sensations.

Chris pulled away from your lips, his gaze burning with desire. He held you by the hips and gently turned you so that you were kneeling in front of him on the bed, your body between the two of them. You felt Matt's gaze fixed on you, a mix of pride and perversion in his expression.

“Show him how much you want him,” Matt murmured, his voice low and heavy with authority as he too began to strip off his clothes.

Chris didn’t wait any longer. His hands traveled firmly to your hips, pulling you into him. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against you through his clothes, and the mere contact drew a soft moan from you. The anticipation was killing you.

“Don’t hold back,” Chris whispered, his voice husky, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want to hear you.”

Matt, still behind you, slid his hand between your legs, brushing your folds with a deft, teasing touch. You cried out softly in surprise and pleasure, feeling your body respond instantly. You could feel the mix of their hands, one holding you firmly while the other touched you with a precision that made you shiver.

“You like it?” Matt asked in your ear, his breath hot on your neck as his hand continued to work on you, his tone filled with satisfaction at what he was doing. “It’s not just Chris you want, is it?”

You were too lost in the pleasure to respond coherently. At that moment, desire for both brothers was consuming you. Matt knew it, and so did Chris. And now, they were playing with you, enjoying every second of it.

Finally, Chris stripped off the rest of his clothes and lifted you with ease to place you on top of him, aligning his erection with your center. He grabbed you by the hips, and without wasting another second, he slowly impaled you on his hardness. A guttural moan came from deep within your throat as you felt Chris fill you completely, his hands gripping you tightly, controlling every movement.

“Like that…” Chris gasped, his voice cracking with pleasure, his eyes momentarily closing as he felt you around him.

Matt, still behind you, held you tightly, his mouth running over the skin of your neck as his hands played with your breasts, squeezing and massaging, heightening every sensation. You were completely at his mercy, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure they were both giving you.

The pace intensified. Chris moved your hips on him with a mix of ferocity and control, each thrust drawing a new moan from you. Meanwhile, Matt was whispering things in your ear, dirty words that only made the heat inside you grow even more.

“Come on,” Matt whispered with a dangerous smile on his lips. “Let yourself go.” The combination of their bodies and their whispers enveloped you in a whirlwind of pleasure. Each thrust of Chris pushed you into an abyss of sensations, while Matt explored your body with expert hands, playing with your breasts and caressing your skin. You felt trapped between two worlds, each of them taking your pleasure to a new level.

“Look how you enjoy it,” Chris murmured, leaning towards you as he filled you. His lips brushed your ear, and his deep voice made a shiver run down your spine. “Do you like this? Do you like it when we moan together?”

His words were a challenge, a reminder that you weren’t just sharing this moment with one of them, but both of them. The idea of ​​being there, between the two brothers, was a mix of intimacy and danger that made you feel more alive than ever.

“Tell me what you want,” Matt insisted, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers ran down your stomach and slid down, provoking more and more sensations. “Do you want me to do it faster? Do you want Chris to touch you?”

You couldn’t answer, only letting out a moan as you gave in to the sensations. Chris continued to thrust into you, each movement deeper and more powerful than the last. The sound of your body slamming against his filled the room, mixing with Matt’s murmurs.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” Matt smiled, enjoying the scene as he continued to caress you. “Tell him what you want.”

Finally, your lips parted, and in an act of boldness, you moaned, “I want… I want them both to touch me.”

The smile on Matt’s face widened, and Chris paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. But it was only for a moment, because then Chris caught you hard, his hips moving again, making the pressure inside you increase.

“I can do that,” Chris said, his voice full of determination as he looked into your eyes. As you moved on top of him, you felt Matt settle down beside you, his hand finding your crotch, playing between your legs, stimulating every sensitive part of your body.

The two of you were in perfect sync, one pushing you forward and the other stroking you in a way that made everything feel even more intense. Every touch from Matt was electrifying, while Chris focused on bringing you to the edge, making you completely forget about everything but the pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” Matt murmured, his words like a spell, drawing you deeper into the maelstrom of sensations.

With each thrust from Chris, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to climax. His eyes were fixed on you, his expression a mix of desire and satisfaction. Matt, with his expert touch, knew exactly how to heighten your pleasure, bringing you over the edge.

“I can’t take it anymore…” you managed to stammer out between gasps, pressure building in your abdomen.

“Let go,” Chris insisted, intensifying his pace. “I’m here with you. Leave it all to me.”

Chris’s words were the spark that lit the flame. Your body shook, and in a moment of pure euphoria, you let yourself go. The climax swept you away, enveloping you in a wave of pleasure that had you screaming out their names, resonating in the room like an echo of what you were sharing.

The two men surrounded you, their bodies pressing against yours, and as ecstasy consumed you, you felt everything come together in a single instant, a moment of intense connection unlike anything you had ever experienced.

With every throb, every moan, every whisper, you found yourself in a place where desire and vulnerability intertwined, letting the room fill with the energy of three bodies intertwined, each claiming their share of you and reveling in the passion only they could offer.

The surge of pleasure swept you away, and as you sank into that climax, the outside world faded away. There was only the heat of Chris pushing you up and the comforting touch of Matt caressing your skin. The feeling of being trapped between the two of them was intoxicating, and each of them seemed to lose themselves as much as you did in that moment.

When you finally reached the top, a cry of ecstasy escaped your lips, echoing through the room. The sensation was so intense that your body shook as waves of pleasure coursed through every corner of you. Chris continued to move, taking you further than you thought possible, while Matt, still at your side, held you firmly, his hands making sure you never felt alone in this experience.

As the euphoria began to subside, Chris held you firmly, guiding you as his thrusts became faster, more urgent. The blend of your bodies was perfect, as if each complemented the other in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Chris moaned your name, the sound so deep it resonated in your chest, and Matt, sensing the moment, let his hand move to your clit, applying the pressure you knew you needed.

“You’re the one who wants us both, aren’t you?” Matt said, his voice soft, but the need in it clear. “I want you to realize what this means.”

It was a question, but also a statement. The truth was, yes, you wanted them both. You had been playing with fire from the very first moment, and now that you were in the middle of this whirlwind of passion, it all made sense. The shared intimacy, the desire, the danger… it all came together in a single instant.

“Yes, I want this,” I answered, feeling the honesty flow from you like a river in a desert. There was no turning back. You didn’t want this to end, for this moment to fade away.

Chris smiled at your words, and as he filled you once more, you realized there was a glint in his eyes that showed his own satisfaction. The connection was palpable, as if the three of you were linked by an invisible thread that vibrated with the energy of the moment.

“Then let’s enjoy it,” Chris said, and his voice was a deep whisper that made a new shiver run through your body. He took your face in his hands and kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Matt, without wasting a second, intensified his caresses, his hand now moving with greater haste. You were surrounded by his warmth, and every touch was a reminder that they were both there for you. As the three of you gave in to the pleasure, a symphony of moans and breaths mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere charged with passion.

The room was filled with noises: the sound of bodies colliding, of labored breaths, of moans escaping your lips. Matt and Chris looked at each other often, their gazes filled with a silent understanding, a kind of connection that went beyond simple physical attraction.

“I want you both to feel good,” you said, aware that each of them had their own desire, their own needs. The thought of satisfying them both made you feel powerful, like your pleasure expanded to include the two men around you.

“And we will,” Chris replied, a smile shining in his eyes. With that final thrust, he increased his pace, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Matt leaned in and began whispering in your ear, filling your thoughts with promises and desires that made you shudder.

“I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry,” Matt said, his tone soft but firm. “We’re going to make sure you get everything you want.”

The combination of their words and the movement of their bodies brought you to a new peak of pleasure, and your mind clouded as the sensations coursed through you. In the end, what started as simple three-way play morphed into something bigger, deeper. You were completely immersed in their world, where each of them had a role to play in your pleasure, and you, in theirs.

With every thrust, with every caress, you felt like you were at the center of something extraordinary, a moment beyond any fantasy you had ever imagined. And as the heat built once again inside you, you knew there was no place you wanted to be more than there, between them, enjoying the moment and letting passion take control.

The intensity of the moment continued to grow, and the air became thick with desire. Chris and Matt moved in perfect sync, each complementing the other, each thrust and caress increasing the level of pleasure that washed over you. The way they looked at each other, how they communicated without words, made you feel like you were at the center of their world, something precious and valuable.

Chris, still holding you by the hips, began to lean back, allowing you to take control. The change in position allowed you to play with the rhythm and depth of each movement. You felt powerful doing so, and the gazes of both brothers filled you with confidence.

“That’s how I like it,” Chris said, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Take me however you want.”

With a moan of satisfaction, you began to move on top of him, exploring how his body reacted to each touch. Matt’s hands continued to roam over your skin, gently sliding his fingers down your back, while his kisses went from your neck to your shoulders, marking your skin with heated caresses. The heat of his body was an addictive sensation that only increased your desire.

“That’s it, keep going like that,” Matt encouraged, his voice full of desire. You loved having them both so on edge, waiting for what you would do next.

Your movements became more pronounced, the pleasure pumping through you like a torrent. With each thrust, you felt Chris plunge deeper, filling you with his essence. Your body responded, eager and wanting, as the pressure built up again inside you.

“Don’t stop,” Chris whispered, his voice torn with pleasure. “I need more of you.”

The urgency in his voice made you smile, and with a surge of boldness, you began to move faster, pushing yourself into him with every movement. Matt’s hands gripped your waist, helping you keep up. The feeling of being trapped between the two men was intoxicating, and the pleasure soared to levels you had never imagined.

“I love seeing you like this,” Matt murmured, his voice deep and full of desire. His gaze was fixed on you, watching every move you made. “You’re incredible.”

The combination of his words and the way they both touched you made you feel more alive than ever. It was as if every caress and every whisper was designed just for you, and in that moment, there was nothing more you could want. You felt completely consumed by them, by the passion, and by the connection you shared.

As the tension inside you grew, you began to lose yourself in the moment. The room filled with sounds: your moans, Chris’s sighs, Matt’s murmurs, all creating a symphony of pleasure. I couldn’t take it anymore, and every time Chris thrust up, you felt the line between pleasure and pain blur, bringing you to a state of absolute ecstasy.

“I’m going to…” you managed to articulate, feeling the pressure building up in your abdomen reach its peak. The world around you faded away in a haze of desire and pleasure, and you couldn’t think of anything but the climax that was coming.

“Let yourself go,” Chris insisted, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and determination. “We’re here with you. Just let yourself go.”

With those words echoing in your mind, you let it all spill out. Your body shook with the surge of climax, an explosion of pleasure that had you screaming as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. Chris and Matt held you tightly, making sure you didn’t fade away into the abyss of pleasure.

The room filled with an almost electric energy as you gave yourself over completely. Each second seemed like an eternity as you basked in the intensity of that moment. The climax continued to course through your body, waves of pleasure spreading from your toes to the tips of your hair.

As the ecstasy began to subside, you felt even more connected to them. Their bodies continued to embrace you, each holding you in a way that made you feel safe and wanted at the same time.

Chris smiled, his gaze still filled with passion. “You’re amazing.” He said, his voice a breathy whisper from the pleasure still vibrating in the air.

Matt looked at you in admiration, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “I never thought this would happen,” she murmured, her expression revealing a mix of surprise and desire. “But I’m so happy it did.”

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ✮

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[lover-of-mine]

Hello and welcome to Anna thinks they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc and *coldplay starts to play* it was all yellow (and blue). (metas on the blue and yellow here and here if you feel like reading)

I feel like at this point I have made the point that I think Eddie's queer arc is gonna be yellow where Buck's was blue very clear (post on that here, more on the theory applied to buddie here), so I'm watching for any amount of blue or yellow around Eddie. The whole thing comes back to the way 704 is very blue and yellow and the climax of Buck's bi arc, the coming out scene since it's the one scene Buck chooses to come out, is also blue and yellow, but Buck himself is blue.

This actually starts in the locker room in 701 tho, but we have established that Buck is blue, so they are in the wrong colors. They're also in the wrong colors during the will reveal, which is interesting if they follow through it this particular symbolism the way I'm expecting them to.

The will reveal is interesting because they don't match their backgrounds the way Buck does in the coming out scene, but the backgrounds have the right colors, but I digress.

The thing is, the thing that I keep waiting to happen, happened. The sandy yellow shirt. Something about Buck's journey to blue, is that he is in darker shades of blue while Eddie is in neutral tones, mostly black, until he reaches a shade of blue that's basically the color of Oliver's eyes, so it's a brighter color.

So my working theory is that Eddie is gonna mirror that, and we will have Buck in neutral tones while Eddie finds his golden yellow, that right now I'm 90% positive will be the shade behind him in the coming out scene, but Eddie's arc will be lighter shades working up to the darker ones. And this is a promising start.

But I wanna talk about Eddie's arc on the episode. Because his arc is blue and yellow, but he's drowning in blue. Which is the wrong color. And not just because the uniforms are blue.

Something in particular that's intriguing me is the fact that they changed the waiting room of the hospital, so it is yellowish now, where it used to be a more neutral blue color.

Something else is the fact that this is the school from 504, an episode called home and away, that has "you're the guy who likes to fix things" conversation, where we actually discuss the way blood family knows you differently than a significant other. So we have a few s5 callbacks going on, and I feel like this will be a pattern, even though I don't think Eddie is in route for another full breakdown, I think deconstructing parts of who he is will have a lot of callbacks to his s5 arc.

The dialogue of the ambulance scene is very interesting too, because Eddie is talking about fixing someone's heart in less-than-ideal circumstances, and he actually manages to pull it off after some struggle. I'm probably reading too much into it, but the fifty/fifty on 2 attempts is making me 👀 because if we take this to the more metaphorical possible Eddie and his own heart, unless we are talking Buck, he failed all times, but it interesting to think Shannon vs Buck since Ana and Marisol where superficial relationships. Considering what we know, how young he was and the way his relationship with Shannon got to serious to fast vs the way Buck squeezed his way into his life and Eddie did take some leaps of faith in less than ideal conditions, I can see a symbolism hidden there.

The talk with Bobby is also interesting because of the whole yellowish setting and the implication that the issue can be traced to the mustache, and since we know the mustache is gonna be important for Eddie's character in the following episodes.

But the thing that had me screaming was actually the shop scene. I wrote a meta on this (you can read it here) but 911 uses blue and red for parenting issues. And the shop, the car the dad is working on, and the equipment are blue and red. And that makes sense, they are talking about parenting. Eddie is there as a father, at least at first.

And all of this is happening while Eddie is in white.

After they go outside, while Eddie is talking about being a father in a more detached manner, he is surrounded by the blue and red, even though the chair is yellow.

But while the dad is talking about his struggle understanding his kid, he is blue and yellow. This is interesting even though I don't want to sit here and say that Weston is queer just based on the fact that he's a cheerleader, because yes, the blue and yellow is used for Buck, but is also used for henren, and if we expand on the 911verse, it is also used for tarlos, so the metaphor there.

And attached to all the struggles Eddie has expectations that were placed on him, and specifically 517 where Eddie talks about his father not wanting to seem weak, and how that obviously affected the way Eddie grew up and how he moves on to defending Weston by saying he survived something he knows soldiers who wouldn't, we have something here. Because we don't have the focus on the red anymore once Eddie starts talking.

The green elements of the scene are interesting in the same way I said the orange is interesting about the birthday party (read that one here). Eddie is a green character, I feel like a lot of us associate him with army green, but if I'm right about the color theory we have going, Eddie can't live his life as a secondary color. That's where getting to his yellow comes in.

Eddie needs to move on from that. We talked a lot about the green army armor, with that jacket he wears when Shannon dies and when he leaves the 118 (first 2 pictures up here) so he needs to stop hiding behind the green. And the green is there, but it is out of focus, it's not supposed to be the main thing even tho it does take a lot of space in Eddie's frame. Mostly because you can see the yellow very clearly behind the dad, but not the green car behind Eddie, the edges are blending, which is good. He is moving in the right direction.

He also ends the episode drowning in blue again, which, yk, wrong color.

He's also in the same color he was in 506 after the whole kidnapping and yet another moment Eddie risks everything because there's a kid involved. But this time he can't go home to his kid. Someone give him Chris back right now (set on this parallel here).

So, since Buck's queer arc was blue and yellow, and Eddie just started an arc with those, I am choosing to believe they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc.

That's all for today, if you read this I love you 💜

taglist (interact with this post if you wanna be tagged, or send me a message, just let me know):

@sparkedblaze @hermioneindisguise @eddiedisasterdiaz @mosaicstardust @stagefoureddiediaz @kejfeblintz @glasscities @angelcamael @sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @joshwritesfics @lunarsolar1 @dingdongfries @wolfdeans @jesuisici33 @miles--to--go @hopefuldreamers-world

[ljubimaya]

˙⋆⊹.꒷꒦꒷ 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇

SYNOPSIS: Waking up in the pool of your own blood was the worst way for you to wake up to, and just like the start, the day progressed just as terribly. Lucky for you, you have a vampire boyfriend who's more than willing to make the pain go away C/W: afab! reader, vampire! Baji, aged up characters (18+), period and mentions of period symptoms, mention of blood (duh), consumption of blood (duh 2x), cunnilingus during period, a little dubcon-ish at the beginning but reader later on gets into it, a tiny bit of coercion, technically monster fucking, Baji has a long tongue (like fruit bats), established relationship, petnames (baby), not proof read if I missed smth lmk <3333 W/C: 2.9k+ A/N: It's been some time since I wrote something :,) truth be told I wanted to write this during my last period but I physically couldn't bc I was in such pain :,) either way, this is super self-indulgent and inspired by a conversation I had with my lovely friend @avatarofstars. Thank you for being my enabler ily so much <33

It would have been a lie to say things started off innocent- they never do with Baji. 

Cold calloused fingers trace random shapes on your thigh as you sat uncomfortably next to him. You and your boyfriend were wrapped in fluffy blankets, snuggling close to one another as the TV illuminated the dark living room. Fatigued, you laid your head on Baji’s shoulder as you continued watching the movie with him. You were getting tired, especially after the long day you had today. Waking up grumpy and hurting, you found your bed sheets and panties stained with blood. Of course you would get your period unexpectedly after changing the sheets the night prior and wearing your favorite pair of panties to bed. 

For you, the day was already ruined before it even started. Everything else that followed suit could only be described as an unfortunate domino effect: You changed your sheets and frantically searched for any pain meds, resulting in you coming late to work and getting into an argument with your colleague. To make matters worse you were searching for your pain meds for nothing, since you’ve used them all up on your last period and forgot to stock up on them again. And so, you were left to work with no way to alleviate your pain, both physical and mental as the fight with your colleague and the tense atmosphere were only adding to your mental distress. But you pushed through with your day, knowing that after coming home from your hellish day, you would be able to spend the night with your boyfriend. 

Baji could only visit you at night. Being a vampire, the ravenette wouldn’t step outside during day-time, making the darker hours the only times he could spend some time with you. Your undead lover knew what to do when he saw your exhausted self walk through the door: he’d have to help you relax in the best way he could. Thus, the idea of a movie night was born. 

“You tired?” Baji asked softly when you laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel the coldness of his body radiate through his clothes, but you didn’t mind. You grew to love his icy cold skin along with his other unhuman traits. 

“Yeah, kinda” you whimpered as you felt a cramping pain in your abdomen. Unable to move due to the pain spreading to your lower back and legs, you tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could without moving too much “But my body hurts so much, I can’t even fall asleep” 

Baji turned his face to look at you, eyebrows knitted as he eyed your limp form lean against him. You felt the subtle shift of his body, but instead of facing your boyfriend your head remained nestled on his shoulder. He couldn’t see your face, but your tired tone and the overwhelming smell of your blood told him you were beyond spent. 

The ravenette didn’t know much about periods, let alone the pain that comes with it, but he knew enough to understand that this might have been the worst period you have had yet. He couldn’t bear to watch you suffer, to watch you lay still as if life has been drained of you. One part of him wanted to take care of you, to rub your tummy and make sure you get enough rest. 

The other part, the selfish, hungry part, wanted to rip off your shorts and dove his tongue inside your pussy. 

You were too fatigued to even think about the implications of being on your period and Baji, a monster of the night thriving off of blood, being close to you. Dating him meant you were aware of the risks and issues you might run into, and dating you meant he was prepared to keep his hunger at bay as much as he could. But he couldn’t not when your sweet blood was polling between your thighs. The smell was intoxicating Baji’s senses, challenging the man to keep his composure any longer. He would have had a much easier time resisting his primal instincts if his pants hadn’t grown unbearably tight. Maybe a little taste wouldn’t hurt?

“Hmm, I know something that would make you feel much better” Baji whispers into your ear, his voice deep and raspy from his restraint “You just gotta relax and let me work my magic. Can you do that for me?”

The predatory growl did not fly past you; you lightly shuddered when you heard it, suddenly feeling wide awake. Suddenly, you were very aware of who your boyfriend was and what he could do to you. Your stomach twisted in a knot, unable to tell if you were afraid or excited. 

Yet, you pulled yourself together. Maybe he was hinting towards something else, you tried to reason with yourself. Despite your best efforts, you knew your boyfriend too well.

So you swallowed, torn between reason and intuition, torn between fear and lust, mustering up all of your strength to lift your head and look at him. You whimpered as the pain shot through the lower half of your body, having moved your upper body with your head as you gazed into your lover’s eyes. Reddish brown eyes clouded with lust and want stared right back into yours, watching your every move intently. 

“kei, it’s fine really. It’s not my first and definitively not my last period. I’ll just tough it out” You vetoed, even though you wanted to rip your own uterus out. 

Baji scoffed, unwilling to accept your defiance “You don’t sound like you wanna tough it out. You sound like you wanna be taken care off, baby” 

With that, the vampire stood up from the couch and repositioned you gently. More whimpers of pain left your lips, a sweet melody to Baji’s sharp ears. This wasn’t the first time Baji was tasting your blood, far from it. You’d let him feed off of you from time to time whenever he was sure he wouldn’t go overboard and drink too much of your blood. He’s eaten you out plenty of times too, but waiting you out on your period - that would be a first for the both of you. So he’ll make sure to make it an experience of a lifetime. 

“Kei, wait-” you tried to stop him as he yanked your fuzzy blanket away, exposing you to the cool air of your living room. Baji had none of that, he didn’t want to hear any protests from you. The man kneeled down and took your shorts off a little too fast to your liking. 

“Keisuke, you know, maybe some rest would do me much better” You sheepishly murmured, heat shooting up to your face at the sight before you: Baji, on his knees between your thighs, strong hands holding your squirming legs in place, his gaze intense and the outline of his hard cock on his sweatpants….

Your boyfriend could only scoff at you, finding your idea to be not only dumb, but also offensive “Bullshit, baby. Nothing could do you better than me”

Cold lips wandered over your hot skin, seducing you to comply with his demand “C’mon, I just wanna make you feel better” Baji hoarsely, half lying, half telling you the truth. He did want to make the pain go away after all,  but your sweet blood and your cunt were calling to him. And who was he to deny your urges - even when you weren’t fully aware of them?

There was something so hot about Baji this assertive. While the vampire continued giving your inner thighs kisses, you began to wonder if maybe he was onto something. After all, you did have a long day, and you knew of the euphoria inducing bites your lover could give you. Perhaps tongue fucked by your boyfriend would make you feel better. Your gaze met his just as he sunk his canines into your soft flesh. Wimmers and gasps left your lips as Baji began sucking on your skin, letting the blood flood his mouth. You shut your eyes tightly at the sharp pain of his monstrous teeth digging themselves into your tender flesh. The pain faded and morphed into euphoria. 

One bite was all it took for you to take your mind off your abdominal pain, and one bite was all it took to fully break your resolve. 

Your eyes were still shut as you savored the exhilarating feeling you got from your lover’s bite. Baji continued to bite into your thigh, feasting on your blood as his bites trailed closer to your clothed cunt. He stopped, his hunger for your blood seemingly quenched. The man took a good look at your thighs; covered in bite marks, bruises blooming on your skin like wild cornflowers on a field. Truly a sight to behold. 

You were feeling a bit lightheaded. Baji was careful not to take too much blood from you - after all, he had to save room for dessert - but he still fed off you more than he usually would. Not that you could complain, you were no longer in pain and felt more relaxed.

“How are you feeling?” your boyfriend asked while he toyed with the lining of your velvety red panties. Finally, you opened your eyes.

“I’m feeling better now. Much better, actually” you mused “but I feel a bit dizzy, thanks to a certain glutton” you rolled your eyes teasingly and laughed lightly. A smirk formed on Baji’s lips as he heard your little insult, amused by your cheekiness. 

“Ah, I see you’re coherent enough to joke around. Good, means I didn’t take too much blood from you” Baji remarked in a husky tone “But I can make you feel even better. After all, I’m not done feasting on you”

With that, he bit the elastic band of your panty and slowly pulled the flimsy piece of clothing down to your ankles with his teeth, his sharp canines grazing your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as you intently watched the erotic scene unfold in front of you. Baji held your gaze the entire, hypnotized by your half lidded eyes and plump lips slightly parting. 

Baji threw your panties to the away, uncaring of where they would land. Opposite to his earlier movements, the vampire forcefully gripped the apex of your thighs and swung your legs over his shoulders. A surprised yelp left your lips as you were being repositioned to sit closer to the edge of the couch. Your back and head hit the backrest of the couch with a light thud. You wanted to glare at him, maybe even tell him to chill out, but the hungry gaze you were met with made you feel weak to your knees. 

Baji was practically on eye level with your cunt. Drenched in your own blood, your pussy looked as delicious as a cake being served on a silver platter to him. Baji licked his canines, licking the remaining droplets of your blood as his gaze switched from your pussy to your face. Despite being practically bare and feeling his icy cold hands gripping your thighs, you felt so damn hot; he made you feel hotter than the sun. 

“You’re not going to refuse me, are you?” He rasps out as he was mere centimeters away from your pussy. The vampire grinned as he saw you shaking your head unabashedly “I need words, baby. Tell me what you want, and don’t take too long to think-”

“I want you to eat me out” You admitted loud and clear, not a trace of shame in your tone or face; no, the way you said it was so bold yet desperate at the same time, as if you were begging him. Perhaps you were begging Baji to tongue fuck you, but your boyfriend saw no need to tease you any further. After all, your wish is his command, and he was aching to taste more of you. 

Baji stuck out his long tongue and lapped at your folds, groaning at the taste of your blood mixed with your arousal. His wet muscle traced your labia before easing inside your wet cavern. The vampire pushed his tongue inside slowly, making sure you were comfortable. His tongue wasn’t in any way thick, just thick enough to not hurt you when he’d thrust it in and out. 

Moans bubbled out your lips as your undead lover took his time tasting you. He savored every thrust, every droplet of your blood, every little sound you made. Baji's nose pressed against your clit as he sunk his tongue deeper between your velvety walls. The tip pressed snug against your g-spot, making your toes curl from sheer pleasure. 

Your eyes pressed shut when you threw your head back, hands finding your lover’s raven hair and grabbing them, pushing his face closer to your aching core. And while Baji loved that you embraced the pleasure, he grew frustrated.  

Reddish brown eyes, half lidded and clouded with lust, watched your trembling form fighting yourself from releasing too soon. He pulled away, making you whine in protest. You looked down on him, eyebrows knitted in confusion and frustration as you managed to stutter out “W-why did you stop all of a sudden?”

Baji’s lower face was covered in your blood, a sight that made you feel excited and hot “I want you to look at me” he breathed out ruggedly, his lips deathly close to your nether lips “Don’t look away when I fuck my tongue into you. Don’t close your eyes, keep them on me” Biting your lower lip, you hesitantly nodded, unsure if you would be able to keep your promise, but God were you determined to keep it. 

So Baji thrusted his tongue back inside, this time a bit more forceful. You yelped at his roughness before your moans of pain soothed into frantic moans of need. You needed him to make you cum, and you needed it to be as hard and nasty as he could give it to you. 

Your fingers raked his hair, pulling on his locks hard when he relentlessly fucked his tongue into your pussy. There was no going slow and sensual anymore as Baji now forced his wet muscle in and out of you as hard and fast as he could. 

Trying to keep eye contact with the ravenette proved to be harder than you had initially expected; his iron grip on your tender skin was painful, his tongue bruised your insides in search of your sweet red nectar and his eyes burned with carnal desire. The way Baji was looking into your eyes felt like a predator looking into its prey’s eyes before eating it alive. A shiver ran down your spine to your clit as he nudged your sensitive bud with his sharp nose, creating a delicious friction that had you seeing stars. 

But you stayed put: you kept on looking back into his eyes even when his tongue grazed your g spot. Once he found your spongy spot there was no going back. The vampire carefully watched your reactions when he pistoned his tongue, always making sure to hit your g spot. Your eyes began to tear up the harder he went on you, your vision became blurry from the pain and pleasure; your lips parted as a string of ‘Oh my God’s, curses and Baji’s name left your mouth like a broken record and your hair was disheveled. The hottest mess Baji has ever seen in his life.

His dick strained painfully against his sweatpants, aching to be let free and sink itself down your throat. But that would be for later, after he has had his fill on you.

“Oh God, Kei” you screamed as you buckled your hips against his face. The tightness in your tummy became overbearing, dulling your sense of shame even more as you unabashedly screamed and begged your boyfriend to make you come. You didn’t care about the thin walls or the noise complaint you’d get in the next morning, brain full of the way his tongue feels inside you. 

Chanting ‘Please, please please please’ as the knot bursted in your tummy, you cried out his name. Your body felt limp after your release, so you fell back, hitting your head and back on the back rest yet again. Panting heavily as you came down from your orgasm, Baji helped you ride your high out before he pulled out his wet muscle from your clenching hole. His grip softened before releasing you, standing up from his kneeling position. 

“Fuck, my knees hurt” Baji groaned as he patted his knees “next time I better get a pillow to kneel on, baby”

“Next time?” you teased breathlessly, smiling at the gruff man once he stood up to his full height. 

“Yeah, next time” Baji replied smugly as he licked off the remainder of your blood away from his lips “I got a taste for you now baby. This will become a monthly routine from now on” 

You hummed at his idea, eyes wandering to his very obvious bulge. Somehow the view alone sent a tingle to your spent pussy. 

Baji wasn’t dumb, he knew you were looking at his cock and he knew you were thinking about the unspeakable things he could do to you with it. A smug smirk crept on his lips as he wiped off the blood on his chin before he stepped closer to the couch. With one movement he had you laid down on the couch, your back on the cushions and your head propped up on the armrest. 

The vampire stood above you, looking down on you as he slowly pulled his sweats down “You had your fun. Now it’s my turn”

[frownyalfred]

All this talk about young bruce and LoA-era Bruce etc makes me remember that I've got this itch for a specific brand of de-aged!Bruce/time travel fic i havent been able to find on Ao3 where the batkids are confronted with very-newly-batman and/or LoA-era Bruce. Something about them realising just how much bruce changed once Dick (and then the rest of them) came into his life and he took on that role of paternal figure/mentor/whatever the fuck he and the batkids have going on. And also witnessing him kill (if its LoA-era) or something else very un-batman-like

I was thinking about this too! Something about them meeting Bruce as Ra’s Al Ghul’s lieutenant, a member of the League, and everything Batman isn’t and yet is. He’s so young but there’s parts of him that are so much heavier and darker than even Bruce of two decades ahead. It would be seriously unsettling and SO cool to read if someone wrote it…..

[flamingo-writes]

what about Hobie dragging the reader to their apartment after a party and they're babbling and drunkenly hitting on Hobie, completely oblivious to the fact that he's their boyfriend

like "hey, handsome, can you give me your number?" COMING ON HE'S TRYING TO CHANGE YOU AND GET YOU TO BED IN YOUR HOME

I love your work btw

you inspire me to learn english better haha

Pick Up Line — Hobie x Reader

Notes: I wrote this before going to sleep 🫡 it is not proofread (I might do that tomorrow) writing this was so much fun, I only knew what I wanted to write in the beginning, and then I just let everything unfold on it’s own. I didn’t have a title for this until I finished it. I hope you like it!!

Man I have so many requests I’m sorry for posting one thing and then disappearing for months 😭 anyways, here’s the fic:

“No! Put me down! I have a boyfriend!” You groaned with a breathless sigh, feeling the heaviness of the booze weighting down on your body, most of all your mind.

Hobie chuckled as he carried you back to your apartment after one of those self destructive parties the darker alternative scene liked to throw every now and then.

“Oh, you do?” He chuckled with a cheeky tone as you hummed.

“Uh-huh. I do, and he’s the most handsomest, coolest motherfucker…” You replied and let your head fall onto his shoulder as he was carrying you as if you weighted nothing on his arms, with an arm holding your back and on the other your legs. “He’d kick your ass,”

“Oh, would he?” Hobie teased, raising an eyebrow, thinking it was insanely adorable how even on your state you talked so highly and proudly of him in your own way.

“Yup, certified badass shit,” You groaned. “I love him,”

He let out a deep chuckle as he gazed at you and turned on the corner, spotting your flat building a couple of blocks down.

“I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass,” Hobie said, trying to see how you’d react.

“In your dreams,” You sighed deeply.

As he approached your flat building and got inside, in your drunken state probably it would be best to avoid using his Spider-Man skills. You’d either puke, or start yelling that he’s Spider-Man and he wouldn’t risk it. On the bright side, you lived on the third floor.

As he stopped by your door, he gazed at you. “Can hold yourself up for a couple of seconds while I open the door, darlin’?” He asked you, as you giggled.

“Darlin’…” You giggled as you nodded and tried hopping off his arms as he let you down, and you leaned against the wall.

As you patted the pockets of your jacket, you found your keys and took them out as he gently took them off your hands and unlocked your apartment.

In your drunken haze, you started at him with a soft smile, taking in the details. The door squeaking open went unnoticed, your mind was too taken away by Hobie.

“Hey there handsome,” You sighed and closed your eyes. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“You’re never gonna believe this,” He chucked as he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you in with him. “But I basically live here as well,” he chuckled.

It was partially true. He had his sailboat docked not far from there, but your apartment was wider, and every excuse to spend time with you, he’d take it right away. At this point he spent more nights crashing at your apartment than staying in his sailboat.

“God! What a small world!” You whispered as you let him guide you to your room.

“Isnt it?” He chuckled and as you got to your room, you let yourself collapse on the bed.

“Do you have a phone number I can borrow?” You asked with a cheeky tone, as Hobie chuckled and gazed at you as he looked in your wardrobe for your pyjamas.

Something in his chest squeezing with a sweet nostalgic feeling. It had been the exact same awful pick up line you’d used on him when you’d met him a couple of years ago. The rest was history, and now you were drunk in your apartment with your boyfriend taking care of you.

“What about your badass boyfriend?” He teased as he grabbed your pajama pants and sat on the edge of the bed and helped you take off your shoes.

“God, he’s so badass…I love him,” You sighed sleepily as you closed your eyes, as you slowly came to the realisation that he was taking off your shoes. “What are you doing? Buy me some coffee first,” you giggled with a soft snort.

“It’s too late to find a coffee shop open at this time, luv,” He chuckled and then took off your belt and undid your trousers.

At this point you were more asleep than awake and you let him take your pants off as you kept whining with playful banter. Both hitting on him and telling him about your badass boyfriend. As he managed to get you to put on your pyjama pants and remove everything last bit of uncomfortable accessories or clothes, he helped you get under the bedsheets.

He grabbed some water, aspirins and left them ready on the nightstand besides the bed, knowing the killer hangover you’d be having tomorrow. He then took off his boots, his vest, accessories and got on the bed with you in just his boxers and his t-shirt. By the time he did you were already lost in some dreamland and he simply snugged besides you and wrapped an arm around you before joining you in a deep sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to the sounds of your painful groaning and your husky voice saying:

“I’m never drinking that much ever again…I’m never drinking again, period…”

He opened his eyes, blinking several times before he finally processed your words He chuckled. “You always say that, luv…” He sighed and stared at you.

“Leave me alone…” You whined with a playful voice as you gulped down the water and the aspirins before collapsing on the bed again. “The last thing I remember is Karl and his boyfriend convincing me to do shots with them…”

“That was your mistake, you should know by this point those guys can drink their weight in booze,” He teased.

“I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“You were about to let Mattea dye your hair in the bathroom in the middle of the party,” He explained, “and then ran off to the closest convenience store to try and buy bleach and hair dye…”

“Ah, fuck,”

“That’s when I thought maybe it was time to take you to bed,” He laughed softly. “So I brought you back,”

“Thanks, baby…” You whispered with a sheepish voice and kissed his skinny shoulder.

“You bragged to me the entire time about your boyfriend, by the way,” He teased.

“What?” You asked confused.

“And the proceeds to flirt with me and ask for my number…”

“Bullshit,” You groaned as you blushed softly, starting to remember some things about him carrying you back.

“You pulled out the same terrible pickup line you used the first time we met,” He giggled and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Oh my god…” You gasped, burying your face against the pillow in embarrassment. And after a brief silence you said: “did it work, though?” Your questions make Hobie laugh softly as he rolled to his side and looked at you, running his long slender fingers up your spine over the short.

“I’m here, am I not?” He replied with a soft velvet whisper.

[sweetshuga]

Lurking ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

stalker!matt! One skip in your mundane pattern results in something far from boring.

The days went by a blur for you—everything was back to the same old. Despite the frightening nature of what happened that day, you found yourself wondering if he’ll be there, following you. "What kind of insane fucking fantasies are you even having? You’re crazy," you mumbled to yourself as you walked home from work just like any other day. The sky had already turned a darker hue, the night cold and chilling.

This time around, however, you didn’t smoke, breaking your mundane pattern. You could really use a good smoke but had lost your lighter, much to your dismay. Having no source of fire to light your cigarette up with, you reluctantly resorted to chewing a gum you found in your bag—to keep your mouth and mind busy.

The streetlights shone a path from above, adding a cozy atmosphere to the bleak night. The soft hum of your favourite song, you were blasting your ears with, was the only sound except for your heels clacking on the concrete— and another pair of much heavier ones.

𓆩♡𓆪

It wasn’t until you rounded the corner to your street that you noticed the man.

You turned around this time, curiosity clouding better judgement. He looked at you, unmoving, stared at you. You froze for a moment, not sure what to make of this situation. The man didn’t move for a solid eerie minute before starting to walk. As he got closer to you, your gaze raked over him, inspecting him, just in case.

His hair was messy, there were smears of black around his eyes, black paint? eyeshadow? You couldn't tell, but he had easily masked his identity with just some simple make up—sly bastard.

He walked past you, and you let out a sigh of relief until... something glinted in the streetlights, a sharp silver object – a knife – clutched tightly by the handle in his hand.

The brief relief was replaced with pure horror. What was he doing parading around with a knife? You thought to yourself before briskly walking towards your house, and got in through the front door safely.

"Jesus fucking Christ... What is happening?" You whispered to yourself, locking the front door and closing the living room and kitchen curtains, locking the back door, just in case. He couldn’t possibly climb up your second story window, could he?

𓆩♡𓆪

After pacing the living room in slight panic, you noticed that nothing was happening. Relieved, you walked upstairs to your bedroom to change out of your office clothing... Only to find a note and a new lighter on your beside table.

Your breath hitched as you looked around, your eyes wide and panicked. Shaky hands reached down to the note."For you – M" Your gaze fell down to the lighter, gradient blue and with a name in the middle, your name.

Stage 2: Life invasion—leaving unwanted objects, items.

He left you a lighter and a note.

𓆩♡𓆪

stage. 1 3 4

wc. 485

note. English is not my first language!

Isa's notes. I wrote this like dead tired at 4am so if it's ass, that's probably why it is.

for you babes<3 @poolover123 @unknvhx

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

© sweetshuga

[roostersbby69]

Office fun

Summary: The one where you and your boss, Mr. Bradshaw, get after it in his office.

Warnings: SMUT

Full masterlist

Your heels clicked on the marble floor as you made your way to your bosses office, your arms were filled with papers and your purse slid down your shoulder, uncomfortably.

A pen was in your mouth so it made it difficult to greet people as you made your way to your bosses office. You tried to release a hand to knock on the door but the papers slid down, you cursed and caught them before they hit the floor. You took your heel and hit it against the door until he gave you the signal to enter.

You pushed the door open and walked inside mumbling an apology behind the pen between your lips. He glanced up at you from his papers and smirked at your busy arms and hair that was falling out of your bun.

“Morning, Y/n.” He mumbled as he signed another paper and flipped it over to grab another one from the stack and start writing on it. He never had a problem with you running in late or unorganized, you worked hard for him and he appreciated you.

“Morning.” You tried to pronounce as you flipped a coaster onto the desk and set his coffee down. You moved to the filing cabinet and unlocked it with the keys around your neck that were on your lanyard.

Bradley’s eyes lifted up to your bent over frame and eyed your ass that was straining against your suit pants. Your button up shirt lifted up your hips giving him the best sight of the faint tramp stamp above your ass.

You stood back up and came back to his desk with a file and placed it on his desk.

He glanced at it and read the front before smiling and shaking his head, “Wrong one sweet thing.”

You scrunched your brows and lifted it to read it, “Oh, sorry.” You apologized then went back to the cabinet and bent down to unlock the drawer with your key, once again.

With the correct file in your hand, you walked back to him and set it in front of his papers. He nodded and thanked you while he finished his signature on the bottom of a sheet.

He grabbed the file and flipped through it as you grabbed your pen and wrote on his calendar when his next meeting was.

Bradley watched as your manicured nails grabbed your coffee cup and brought it up to your pink lips, when you set the cup back down he noticed the lipstick stain on the lid. He had to restrain himself from grabbing the cup and placing his lips on your lip imprint and sipping out of it.

He couldn’t take it anymore, all the months working with you from watching your manicure never changing. You always stuck to your favorite French tip manicure and sweet caramel coffee that you brought in every morning. The lipstick stain that sat on his desk and your sweet perfume that wafted through his office and lingered on his tux when he got home after a long day.

How you left your glasses in his office and he had to put inside his desk beside his pens to remember to give you them back in the morning when he saw you.

He watched as you moved to your bag and bent over to grab something.

You rummaged through it, looking for your phone and found it shoved between your laptop and notebook. You stood up straight and went to turn when you backed into something hard.

Turning your head, Bradley towered over you and was so close to you that you could smell his cologne.

His mustache was neatly trimmed and his eyes were darker as they stared into yours.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Bradshaw?” You asked with a worry in your voice, he always loved how sweet it sounded when you were setting up his meetings and ordering his coffee for him.

You knew what you did to him, you knew how much he loved the suit pants you wore and the black heels that were strapped across your dainty ankle. The way your pink lip gloss stuck to your coffee lid or to the top of your pen when you were deep in thought.

“You know what you’re doing to me.” He groaned as you looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shook your head and batted your long lashes at him.

He groaned again and brought his hand up to wrap his fingers around your tiny throat.

Your lips parted as soft breaths escaped between them and your face flushed with excitement.

He watched as your thighs closed together as you tried to relieve the aching feeling that grew in your heat.

You were miserably desperate for sex or a make out or something, anything. You haven’t been physical with anyone in months and your fingers or vibrator weren’t cutting it.

He felt your fingers tug on his collar as you brought him down close to your face and whispered almost against his lips, “I know you want me.”

He blinked for a second before leaning down until he felt your soft pillowed lips against his and he could taste the bubblegum flavored lipgloss on his tongue.

He backed you into his desk and grabbed the back of your thighs, he took his arm and swept it across the desk. The papers and pens fell onto the ground with a clatter and he lifted you onto the desk. You gasped into his mouth as his hands came up to your breast and kneaded them, he could feel your lacy bra under the button up shirt.

Bradley took his hands on the unbuttoned part of your shirt and tore it open like a cave man, you gasped as the buttons broke off of the shirt and your black Victoria secret bra held your breast from his reach.

“Fuck.” He rubbed your hips and reached behind you to knead the flesh of your ass, he took his hands and placed them on your knees and spread them apart.

You leaned back on your elbows and let him run his hands wherever he wanted to.

He admired your heaving chest and flushed cheeks as you laid spread out for him. You were still clothed and he was ready to bust in his boxers at that very moment just sitting there admiring you.

He reached down to his pants and fumbled with the buckle on his belt as he slid it off and laid it onto the desk to use later.

Bradley grabbed your arms and sat you up to stoke your cheek softly, his heart dropped when he heard a knock at the door.

You stood up quickly off of the desk and bent down to grab his papers and pens and handed them to him to set up again.

“Just a moment!” He yelled to the door as the person behind the door jiggled on the door knob, trying to get it to open.

He ushered you to hide somewhere and the first place you could think of was under his desk, you crawled under it and watched as Bradley sat in his chair and rolled in his position at his desk. He manspread to make sure he didn’t hit you and cleared his throat, “Come in!”.

You heard the door open and a pair of footsteps walking further into the room as you braced your hands on Bradley’s thick thighs.

An idea flashed through your brain and you smirked as Bradley started speaking to the person. Your hands ran up his thighs and to his zipper as you drug it down slowly, and quietly.

Bradley’s eyes widened as he felt your fingers working on his pants, slowly making his dick harden.

“Mr. Bradshaw!” You heard a man greet him as he closed the door behind him.

“Good to see you, Nick.” You felt Bradley shuffle as you pulled back his zipper and reached into his boxers to feel his hard cock pulsing in your hand.

You tuned out their conversation as his red tip throbbed and oozed white precum, taking your tongue, you licked it off and opened your lips to take his huge tip in between them.

Bradley gripped the edge of the desk with one hand as he reached up and shook the man’s hand but refused to pull himself up from your delicious mouth that held onto his cock.

He shuddered as your tongue stuck out and licked his balls before he felt you kiss your way up his dick until you got to the tip and kitten licked it.

The conversation seemed to drag as Bradley felt himself getting closer and closer to shooting his load down your throat.

He cut the guy off and told him he was very busy and had a meeting he would be going to in a couple of minutes. The guy understood and shook his hand once more before grabbing his briefcase and, thankfully, making his way out the door.

Bradley sighed and reached his hand down under the deck and gripped your hair tightly, “Get up.”

You released his cock and obeyed by sliding out and fixing your suit pants. Your hair was falling out of the clip you had it in and your lip gloss was long gone.

“Take your pants off and sit on the desk.”

He watched as you unbuttoned your pants and slid them down before stepping out and hopping up onto the desk and spread your legs as he sat in his chair.

The black panties you wore hugged your hips and thighs, he could almost see the wetness that dripped from your core.

The sight of you was beautiful, your unbuttoned blouse and disheveled hair, your swollen lips with gloss smeared everywhere, your smooth legs that were spread out in front of him. It was all getting to him, his cock stood proudly out of his suit pants and throbbed out from his zipper. He grabbed your panties and dragged them down your thighs and off of your heels and put them inside his drawer beside your glasses.

His large hands came under your knees and tossed them over his shoulders and scooted the chair closer towards you until you felt his breath fanning your cunt.

You whimpered as his thumb pushed on your dripping core and his tongue flicked your clit.

He spread your legs wider and took his two fingers to spread your lips further apart to get a good view of your pussy.

“You know how long I’ve waited to see this? How long I’ve wanted to touch your perfect pussy.”

You moaned and felt his tongue flick your clit over and over before licking up your entire slit.

“Fuck!” Your hands gripped onto the desk when he sucked on your clit and pushed your legs so far apart it burned.

He groaned and spit on your pussy before plunging a finger inside of you, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Your cunt throbbed in his lips as he practically made out with your but clit and fingered you at the exact same time.

“Oh god!” You cried out as your stomach tightened and his pace on your poor pussy never faltered.

“Come on, baby, I know you can finish for daddy.”

His voice sent you over the edge as he pulled on your clit one last time and you felt yourself gushing on his face.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, as you remembered you were still at the office, as you came undone on his finger. You couldn’t believe how quickly he got you off.

Your head was spinning as he got up and waved his cock on your pussy.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whined and scooted closer to his dick until his tip pressed against your clit, sending a jolt up your spine. “You, please, I want your dick.”

He smirked and pushed into you causing you to gasp at his length that was stretching open your pussy in the most exciting way.

His public hair brushed your clit as he sat deep inside of you and made quick thrusts inside you.

Bradley couldn’t remember the last time he had fucked anyone, or been inside a pussy at least. And the feeling was great, your pussy clenched onto him like a vice and sucked him deeper inside of you. His eyes closed slowly as he shuddered at the warm and wet feeling.

He quickened his pace and watched your breast bounce in your lacy bra. You moaned as the previous orgasm made you sensitive still as he worked on getting you to your second one. And it was coming quick with the way his long and thick cock was slamming into you at a rapid pace. You could feel his balls clapping against your ass, his hands gripped your hips tighter and pulled you onto him harder and faster.

Your pussy and belly felt warm as you felt a second orgasm approaching when all of a sudden the door bust open and Nick walked in saying he forgot his car keys.

He looked up as Bradley never stopped pounding into you and muttered a soft, “Oh shit.”

—————————————————————

Well that was fun.

[theafterglow83]

Stray thoughts from an unhinged mind caused by a song called Robin

Since my teens, I have always been a Karlie Kloss fan. No amount of vitriol from the Swifty’s has ever strayed or strained my conviction that Karlie is on many levels, and aside from being absolutely gorgeous, a better human being than Taylor Swift.

By that I mean she seems to project a warmth and a level of kindness and humanity out into the world that is so pure and honest, when compared to Taylors, sometimes vengeful and darker persona ~as well as her being Queen Mother to one of the worlds most vindictive and exhausting cults who would gladly fillet anyone at “Mother’s “ request. Taylor (the brand) has made a career and a fortune from feeding her tales of romantic misfortune and presumed ex lovers to her hungry mob with merchandise to match.

Karlie on the other hand has a nurturing and supportive side to her and don’t let her beautiful and seductive exterior fool you for below that sultry surface she gives off a warm and fuzzy golden vibe- like a puppy. She’s sophisticated, highly intelligent, NYC chic and street smart , often silly and maturing like fine wine while somehow becoming more beautiful as she ages. She also appears to be one Hell of a good mother to those babies.

All that being said about their personalities is exactly why I believe Karlie’s sunshine is the perfect match for Taylor and her moody, broken, impulsive ,often over indulgent, midnight rain personality. Not only are they equal in status - they have a Yin Yang balance to them - Only that sunshine can dry up the rain in Taylor .

I’ll continue.

While listening to songs off of the TTPD I was stopped dead in my tracks when I came to the song, Robin. I listened three times and found a tear rolling down my right cheek. I was choked up and the tiny hairs on my arms stood up . To say I was moved would be an understatement. There was something so raw, so pure and so loving in those lyrics. I had to sit with my thoughts for a while but I feel the need to share them now among those who i consider “my people”.

The Kaylors.

Sidebar confession: Yes, I’m a Kaylor.

I firmly believe Taylor Swift, and Karlie Kloss had a long running romantic relationship. They were more than friends. They were lovers too. The level of denial it takes to doubt that is astonishing. It wasn’t just Kissgate that sealed the deal. It’s the way those two looked at each other and communicated in a secret language all their own. They were deeply in love.

I believe it all started prior to the public meet up at the VS Fashion Show and even long before the “your kitchen or mine cookie “tweet.

I believe Taylor and Karlie first met when Taylor was showing up at fashion shows that Karlie was walking in as far back as 2009. Where they had a relationship then? Probably not because they were both involved with others but the sparks were flying. Thats when the foundation was laid. The attraction was there. The seeds planted. Destiny and the Universe did the rest.

Think Love Story lyrics

“We were both young when I first saw you” which I believe Taylor wrote about Karlie and which also happens to be Karlies favorite song. I believe they had an ongoing relationship that continued on until late 2017-early 2018 and then I believe something happened and they broke up, as many long-term relationships often do. My guts tell me it was cheating and it was on Taylor’s part and the regret from that will haunt Taylor for her entire life because it caused the trajectory of their path to change.

Karlie married in 2018 yet many speculate they were still together and the unofficial story is the real trouble actually came in mid 2019.

Taylor was furious over the masters, fingers were pointing everywhere, cheating rumors flew. This entire story certainly has all the drama of a Netflix series that could easily do 8 seasons

There’s so much more to this Masters incident than the public is aware of. Also the fact that Josh’s families company ~ the Carlisle Group provided the funding to Scooter is an often overlooked storyline.

Was Taylor angry at Karlie for that but how could Karlie control that if she was even in that loop of that drama. Or~ was there more -because in any good mystery - there’s always several layers more .

What did Scooter have to leverage getting that kind of money from them to buy the masters? Being Karlie’s manager at the time perhaps he has something on her or Taylor or both of them and used it as that leverage . It’s a whole other rabbit hole that I don’t have time to visit right now but regardless Taylor is still angry about to this very day which tells me it goes way deeper and my gut feeling is that Taylor’s dad was the one involved with knowing things and not Karlie Kloss who got fed to the sharks over the situation.

So I’m going on record here saying I never believed Karlie had anything to do with Masters Heist. I believe that story was used as an explanation to explain their separation. I know there’s a whole other level of messy lore involving this and a love blackout and Trumps election and Karlie’s association with the Kushner’s but I’m going to skip over that season and move on -except to say that it was absolutely shameful the level of hate Karlie was forced to endure because of that and still her sun shinned while she was being made the villain online and much of it still continues to this day. At any point during that scandal Karlie could have spoken out but she didn’t. She quietly took one for the team.

I’m not going to pretend that I know what happened during that murky period or what is happening now - because honestly -I do not…but there have been a strange set clues and way too many “koincidences to simply chalk up to being coincidences.

It’s just a gut feeling but I also don’t believe their connection went fully went away or ever will for that matter. They are and will forever be tied together even in the times they are apart but I kinda think they reunited ( again) in early to mid 2020.

I’ve read all the theories. I’ve heard all the rumors ,I’ve been to the rabbit hole, I’ve climbed out, I’ve fallen back in, and most days now you’ll find me sitting on the edge dangling my feet still and kinda wondering. I live my life ~ they live theirs.

So am I a LSK?

No, not really, but some days …ok, maybe. You see for as much as I try to say no…there’s just this tiny string I can’t help but see so I keep my feet planted on the ground but my mind open.

By open I mean open to the possibility that Taylor and Karlie are in one of those kind of “relationships” where as hard as they try ~they just can’t seem to quit each other and they go through periods of on and off times. “pauses” is what I like to call the brakes or bumps along the way. You know that couple that’s over but they’re never really over ?

Where are they now? I have no idea.

Taylor has another year of touring and promoting and probably Travis. My money says Taylor Swift will be the halftime show at next years Super Bowl.

Karlie, along with her modeling contacts ( Carolina Herrera, Estée Lauder, Donna Karen etc ) is venturing into the business world. Along with running Kode with Klossy, she’s CEO of her newly formed media company. She bought I-D magazine and also Life magazine, which Josh also invested in , this year. She’s got a lot on her plate

Yes, Karlie is married but is she really married in the traditional sense of what we all consider marriage to be? On the surface, yes… but once again- the layers and the lore here is incredible.

What a character she’d be on that Netflix show I imagine in my head . Just give her an Emmy already.

Does she love Josh? I’m absolutely sure she does- but the real question is…is she IN love with Josh? You know- romantic love -which, I as an observer ~don’t believe she is or ever has been. You can just kinda tell and no matter how many pictures she posts the connection just isn’t there and whenever I see her with her beautiful babies (even if he’s in the photo) she gives off that “ single mother vibe “

That level of chemistry, no matter how the pictures are posed~ or the hand in hand walks are staged -the passion ~ the look in their eyes - it just isn’t there and honestly it never was.

They have always given off that bff energy and frankly ~ Karlie’s friendship with her “big brother “ Derek actually feels more real, relaxed and genuine.Then there are the gay rumors ( past and present) surrounding their entire little multiverse ~but we won’t go into them right now either. We’d be here all night.

And yes, Taylor has had her share of public relationships but have they been real? Have they had their moments? probably. Did some become more than PR for a brief period of time. Possibly She’s been linked to everyone she even walks by or talks to but somehow it all pales and fades in time. I’m sure there have been flings along the way but flings don’t fly and usually run their course in that 9 1/2 week period that flings seem to take.

If I’m being honest, as I observe from the treetops all of Taylor’s relationships and Karlies relationship with Josh, they never reach the level of the real connection and happiness that I saw between Taylor and Karlie. That’s something you just can’t fake or reproduce with another .

Whatever is going on with Travis is so cringey and sadly embarrassing.I tend to think it’s PR but if it’s real then he truly is her obnoxious karma and karma isn’t usually a good thing. But hey the moneys good. Maybe they’ll even get lavender married so she can stay in her closet and continue to throw red meat to the $wifties.

The future is yet unwritten.

All that being said, I’ll get back to my original point of this ramble and that’s a song called Robin.

So yes, I’ve heard the rumors, I’ve read the theories, I’ve seen photographs of visual evidence. Karlie Kloss was in Los Angeles during the pandemic, the same place where Taylor was in fort part of 2020. When she returned to NYC if you count the months - she was pregnant even if she didn’t look it. I also believe Karlie was there in the shadows during the Long Pond Studio recordings in Upstate NY. Jack kind of gave it away when he referenced “Joe the dog” as being who he thought Taylor was talking about when she said “ Joe and I wrote a song”

I’ve also heard the rumor that there was a ceremony between them that they tried to pass off as a ceremony between Taylor and Joe which Tree later denied that there was ever a ceremony of “any type”.

Ok buckle up because here it comes

I’ve seen the “turkey baster”( IVF ) post that Karlie made. Like who uses a turkey baster in May? What an odd thing to do unless you were signaling an IVF pregnancy situation. Regardless ~ she was extremely happy that day.

I’ve seen the cinnamon buns post ( think the expression “buns in the oven ) that Taylor made a few days later back in May 2020. She was “proud” of her cinnamon buns.

Happy & proud …hum

Is that a crazy set of coincidences? Hand on whatever holy book you set before me ~ I’d have to say “yes”

And it’s Absolutely crazy considering the fact that Levi was born a little over nine months later.

Add in the fact of how emotional Taylor got accepting her Grammy for Folklore when Arron thanked his “ wife and kids “during the acceptance speech.

For a few moments there you could feel the raw emotion in her as she nearly burst into tears andJack tried to console her. Blonde was gutted. It cut deep.

Sidebar:

Yes Aaron has a son named Robin but he’s 9 years old and other than the name cleverly used for gentle cover of the truth in case damage control is ever needed~ there is no connection to that child or a secret, no showmanship to cover it up or anything that would make Taylor react as she did. Other than his name there is no connection to the words in the song

But the fact that Levi’s birth was announced during the Grammys absolutely does connect.

So I’ll just put a pin in that and move on.

Listening to that ballad yesterday rocked my entire world . It was so soft, gentle and living. So heart wrenching that I just let my emotions flow through me as my mind wandered back gathering and processing all the previous rumors and lore I had heard along the way. It left me rattled as it tumbled through memories. Could it all have been true?

So now I’m just gonna say it out loud running the risk of being attacked and also sounding like a supermarket tabloid…here goes “could Levi be Karlie’s and Taylor’s child?”

I know it sounds crazy…secret love child but …

I’m not trying to out anyone and I want to respect the fact that a child is involved here. Honestly I had second and third thoughts about posting this but if I’m being real ~ it’s also a collective of things that have been shared openly about Taylor and Karlie here for years. Somehow the song was like a puzzle piece that snapped into place.

…those loving words ,the emotion in Taylor‘s voice as she sings about her strong heartfelt attachment to a young toddler, as she encourages him in being wild and free in his wonder years, playing with abandon and roaring at the dinosaurs~

There was real love in those words

.

.

Looking out his window over his kingdom (NYC) and speaking gibberish

She also advocates for him keeping his innocence for as long as possible and then speaks of a secret that a inner circle of people have chosen to keep from him” in sweetness” to protect him and the “showmanship” to cover up that secret that he has no idea of.

And as she watches his unabashed play in his toddler purity she prophesies there will come a time in the future when the world he faces will have harsh words for him and she reminds him that he will bounce back like he now does on his trampoline.

“ and you have no idea

Buried down deep and out of your reach

the secret we all vowed

to keep it from you in sweetness

strings tied to levers

slowed down clocks tethers

all the showman ship

to keep it from you in sweetness

way to go, tiger

I’m not crying , you are and Levi looks just like his mommy 🤍

.

Let’s keep this in the family ✌️🤍🏳️‍🌈

God I love this show .

Stay tuned for next season

[moonlight-prose]

✧ BASIC NEEDS ✧

a/n: this one is simply a short filthy blurb for this man. i wrote it faster than i intended to, but the inspo was alive the other night. it was a nice change of pace to write something like this compared to the angst i usually give him. which don't worry there will be more angst coming. also...yes the gif was necessary. his tongue is the main character in this one.

day fifteen - cunnilingus + cum eating | kinktober 2023

summary: "you’d call him insatiable, addicted without any way to appease the craving he had. and you’d be entirely right. he was addicted."

word count: 1k+

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cunnilingus, oral (f receiving), cum eating, assplay, ass eating, sex in a public place kinda, bradley being unhinged.

You’d call him insatiable, addicted without any way to appease the craving he had. And you’d be entirely right. He was addicted. Unable to stop himself from needing a taste of you, a small amount to hold himself over until the next time. But those small promises of ‘let me do this baby I need it’ soon became so much more. Which is usually how you ended up in this position.

The noise of the bar was muffled through the bathroom door, but you couldn’t have focused on it even if you tried. Halfway through the night after two hours of playing pool and chatting with the boys, he had dragged you back here. The hunger was clear in his slightly glazed eyes. Although you wanted to bet no part of him was drunk on the alcohol he’d been consuming.

If there’s one thing about Bradley it was that his tolerance outmatched everyone at the bar. Able to drink each of them under the table two times over. A feat he’d tested several times.

Your hands were pressed to the door, head hanging forward, teeth digging into your bottom lip so hard you could taste copper. Except it was the only thing keeping you quiet as he knelt behind you. Tugging up your dress and sliding your lace panties down your legs. They pooled around your ankles, the color three shades darker than usual. A light pink now turned a mauvy purple. He grunted at the sight, hands cupping your ass as you arched your back towards him and that’s how you knew…he had you.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes stuck on the way your pussy was shiny with slick, your arousal clear. “How long have you been like this baby?”

You sucked in a breath. “Hours.”

“Poor baby.” He spread your ass, a moan getting caught in your throat at the obscene way he stared. “Shoulda told me. I’d have taken care of you.”

“Fuck.”

His cheek pressing to the back of your thigh, breath hot against your skin and it did nothing but make you squirm. “I can fucking smell you.”

“Bradley,” you whined, your hips pushing back slightly. You heard him chuckle and it made your cheeks burn, body practically shaking with need. “Don’t tease me. I can’t take—”

Your gasp was sharp, body slumping against the door when his mouth sealed over your pussy. Tongue sliding through your folds—his moan vibrating through you. When it came to eating you out Bradley was messy. He loved how he could turn you incoherent. How his touch brought you to life. He sucked at your clit, the sound echoed in the small confines of the bathroom, making you feel debauched. As if he wanted the whole bar to hear how he ate your pussy.

How much he enjoyed it.

“Tastes like fuckin’ heaven,” he mumbled, spreading you even further and pressing his tongue at your entrance.

“Oh god,” you moaned, cheek pressing to the door when he pushed forward, thrusting the wet muscle into you as his thumb found your clit. Sliding along it with quick movements.

His moan was loud—depraved—as he licked at you like you were the tastiest thing in this fucking bar. Although to Bradley you were. To him you were the sweetest slice of life that he could have. The lucky charm that he’d always searched for. You were everything he’d ever wanted and then some. Which is why the craving he consistently had, the addiction he had to your taste—your sounds—never eased.

Pulling away, he glanced at the way your eyes had fluttered closed, mouth parted and chest heaving. Eventually someone would come looking for you. If not that then the bathroom would be occupied by others. Yet he wanted to take his time. To strip you of everything except his touch—desperate to watch as you fell apart over and over again. Unfortunately that wasn’t something he could do here. So he dove back in, ripping a high pitched moan from your throat.

Two fingers curled into your wet heat, nudging perfectly against that spot that made your legs shake in your heels. The feeling of pleasure burned through you, shoving you towards an earth-shattering peak. One Bradley loved to drag you over.

“‘M gonna do this again when we get home,” he said, biting into the flesh of your ass. “I’ll eat you on the kitchen table like a proper fuckin’ meal.”

“Ah fuck I’m g-gonna—”

His tongue slid through your folds, a moan being pressed to your pussy that you felt in your toes. “Want to feel you baby.”

You were right on the edge. The sensations that coursed through you nearly sent you to your knees, but Bradley was holding you up. Keeping you stable as he had his way with you. The feeling of his spit hitting your asshole, trickling down to your pussy shoved a shocked moan up your throat. His tongue sliding along the tight puckered hole, sending you even higher.

“Don’t stop. Please, fuck.”

He moaned, fingers speeding up and tongue pressing forward. His other hand sliding up, thumb pressing into your ass, sent you flying over the edge. You slapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your shout as you came. Gushing over his fingers and trembling against the door. He groaned, continuing to lick at you until you reached behind you and shoved at his head. Unable to take much more.

“I got you baby.”

You gasped, pressing your hands on the door to give you some leverage to stay upright. Only for him to lick through your pussy again, dragging a high pitched whine from your lips.

“B-Bradley I can’t—”

“I know honey.” Yet he didn’t stop, drinking you down with sloppy wet sounds that made your heart race. “Let me just taste you. Need it so fucking bad.”

Your eyes rolled back when he sucked your clit into his mouth, your cum now smeared across his chin. Shiny proof of what he’d been doing. You didn’t stop him this time. Fully ready to collapse on the floor as he licked at you, moans echoing in the room as he devoured you. He was starved and who were you to deny him his favorite meal? The taste of you.

[fueledbysano]

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒! Sae Itoshi

you're his guilty pleasure, his wildest fantasies and dirty secret.

♱ content/warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, unprotected sex, implied m masturbation, sae being a simp for you

♱ a/n: I initially wrote for the other boys too but I got impatient so I'm posting this first 😋

♱ tags: @blueparadis @tokyometronetwork

♱ wc: 0.7k

When he overheard from the guests that his favorite model was watching the match, Sae got distracted from his deep train of pre-game thoughts. His teammates were silenced in a heartbeat when Sae hastily got up from the bench and out of the locker room, visibly in a sense of urgency.

“Find [ Y / N ] [ L / N ]. And give her the best field side seat. I don’t care if they’re filled, find a way.” He instructed the men lined before him.

So when you were told that “Sae Itoshi got you a VIP seat.”, it was something you cannot decline. You came to support his team, but it was to your surprise that Sae even knew about your existence.

The game went smoothly and his team won by a landslide of goals. While you were shown on the big screen in between breaks and the hosts commenting on your presence, your favorite part of the game was sharing an eye contact or two with Sae. So once the game was over, you pulled every string you could to get a hold of the man. You just had to meet him.

“Miss [ Y / N ] [ L / N ] requests to meet you at the country club.” Although it would’ve been more convenient if his security didn’t blurt it out in the team’s locker room, Sae felt proud that he practically got asked out by one of today’s hottest models in front of the other guys.

“Damn, I guess you’re ditching our celebration for your reward?” Sendo banters. “Yeah, screw you, guys.” Sae flatly spoke before changing into casual clothing. “What happened to ‘I want nothing but to be the world’s best’?!”

Sae couldn’t believe it— he’s exactly the man he once mocked. Walking blocks in risk of being seen by fans and media, all to meet you. So as soon as he sees you by the bar counter, he makes his presence known with a gentle tap on your shoulder. You made sure to thank him for giving you a vip seat before buying drinks for each other. The place was cozy enough to keep you conversing, like the usual ‘getting to know’ lines. But this time, it was actually interesting to have a date with someone who was famous in a whole other industry.

However, the night fell darker, and more and more people started to recognize the two of you. So in a leap of faith, you invited Sae into a more private domicile.

“Nghmmh! Sae~ s’too big…” You could tell that your risk paid off when Sae practically had you fold in half on the bed; your legs lifted to his shoulders and his fat cock buried in full penetration inside you. “You deserve it, angel…” Sae weakly smiled in an airy breath, hindering himself from cumming too soon.

He’d thought about this very moment on several occasions, especially right from the first time he saw your voluptuous frame and beautiful face on the cover of Vogue. Sae was too overwhelmed with wild and filthy thoughts when he’s practically living a lot of men’s wildest fantasies. “Pretty princess~” Sae spoke in between kisses on the surface of your cleavage. “Just as perfect as I imagined~”

Your grip on his biceps tightened when Sae’s fingers started tracing over your curves. “D-don’t stop, please, Sae…” You suggestively bit your lip before taking his hand up to your lips and sucking on his thumb whilst keeping hot eye contact. Sae almost came from the gesture, but instead, you felt him rut his hips harshly into yours, your toes curling in an instant as his tip kissed your cervix

Sae had you moaning his name again and again, just as much as you made him moan and jerk to your magazine bikini photos.

Sae was strong and skillful in his movements. He left no inch of you unattended. Not when he had one hand grabbing your breast like his personal stress ball, his thumb circling your clit in eight figures, and his lips practically making out with your thigh all while pushing his length to the deepest ends of your tight cunt.

Sae Itoshi had just officially made himself the best hookup of your life.

[littlelambscandyland]

A New Perspective

Yandere Platonic Sakamaki Brothers x Reader

Warnings- (Forced) Age Regression, Drugging, Yui Kimori slander (sorta), Opened ending

Why else would they stare like that? You thought you knew. They hated you, right? It’d been months and all they ever do is stare. Unlike Yui, they never touched you. Not a single finger, but they glared, stared right into your soul. 

You tried your best to protect your foster sister. It never worked well. The two of you had never been close, and the recent situation only strained your relationship more. Yui partially blamed you for her injuries caused by the brothers. She would get angry they only attacked her. You were tired. Despite being a few months younger than her you were always left being responsible. You were always made to be the “bigger person”. This didn’t change when the two of you arrived at the mansion. With Yui being the one drained, you often did any and all the chores that she needed to take care of in order to lessen her burden.

Today the eight of you sat in the limo on the way back to school. Your notebook laid on your lap as you wrote down the list of chores you had to complete today. As usual there were several sets of eyes on you. Despite Laito’s and Ayato’s harassment of Yui they too stole looks at you as you worked. Noticing that you had several tasks in the kitchen you added making today's dessert to your list. Knowing it’s supposed to be Yui’s job today and that she would most likely be unable to do it. You were certain that the household knew you were the one performing her chores; you felt no shame in inquiring out loud.

“Kasutera, mitarashi dangos, strawberry shortcake, or all three? I have extra time so I can make it all but what do you all think? Or is there something else you’d prefer?” You look up and around the limo innocently.

You look over as Subaru scoffs. Reiji however is the one who answers you with a simple statement. “It isn’t your turn to cook today.”

You furrow your brows in confusion and laugh. “I know,” You say, smiling kindly. “I normally cook on Yui’s days… I thought you knew that, heh.” Embarrassment causing you to look down.

You were met with more stares.

“Are you kidding?” Ayato asks, looking angrily over to Yui.

“I really don’t mind like I said I have plenty of extra time. Heh heh…” You say, once again trying to save her from any wrath. Your anxiety leaking through your tone.

Once again scoffing, Subaru curses under his breath. Shu shakes his head with an annoyed look. Kanato holds his bear tighter and stares at you. Laito’s smile looks strained and his eyes hold a darker look. Reiji fixes his glasses with a sigh. The car stops soon after a while with the awkward unloading of the car. 

You got started on all your chores. Spending your evening working. Letting your mind wander as you cleaned and cooked.

Everyday wore you down a bit more. You were by no means built for this. When you weren’t having to care for Yui, your friends would describe you as a childish character with a much too kind heart. You were always so stressed and the few times you weren’t the real you shined like a star. All of this responsibility of a girl older than you had you missing your childhood. A childhood you never really got when you had to act like an adult for so long.

You were surprised seeing all the drinks and sides set neatly on the table. Reiji unsurprisingly sitting waiting at the table as well, clearly the one who set the table. Putting food on the table you thanked Reiji for his help, but focused on bringing in the food. He watched you closely yet quietly while you finished your task.

Dinner and dessert passed without incident. Despite this you noticed the men looking over at you more often. You also noticed as you stood at the sink that the world around you seemed to move without you. Your stomach churned from the unpredictable motion. You leaned on the counter, stopping your final chore, to catch your breath. Your hold being too weak you end up on the floor along with a few plates. 

(PART TWO Here)

[throneofsapphics]

have your little girlfriend, part eight

Summary: Catching Aelin's eye, you quickly end up entangled between her and Rowan, forced to navigate their darker sides in your new relationship.

Warnings: dark!rowaelin, others included on series masterlist to avoid spoilers!

Word Count: 4264

A/N: here's the final chapter! I did cry a little when I finished this. this is one of the first fanfictions I wrote for this fandom, and to see everything coming to an end after over a year is so bittersweet <3

series masterlist

Rowan scribbled on and discarded what felt like hundreds of sheets of paper. Thought, spoken, or written, none of his words felt right, and he knew now, above all, that she deserved right. She deserved the best, and she was stuck with him. The worst part was he couldn’t let her find what she deserved. For now, he would accept the distance, but in the end he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him. As much as Aelin belonged to both of them and vice versa.

He glanced down at the salutation written, the parchment crinkled at the edges. The downward slash of the 'y' nearly ripped through the paper. He wondered if she’d study it like he did, searching for every little detail and clue that may be conveyed.

My mate,

A starting point, but it didn’t nearly encompass everything she meant to him.

“I can feel the self-pity coming from you,” Aelin’s voice, mild, floated across the room. He knew how she’d be standing, the wind sung to him, with their newborn babe in her arms, her head cradled in her elbow, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Someone else should be here too, and it wasn’t fair that he was and she wasn’t.

It took more courage than he cared to admit for him to turn around and face his newborn daughter and wife.

Rowan realized he was failing in every aspect. Failing the people he loved. Had already failed her.

“Rowan,” his name on Aelin's lips, was a plea. He answered, roughly tossing the quill back into the ink pot, in a messy manner he knew she'd probably hate. It didn't matter if she wasn't here to hate it, he reminded himself.

Pushing his chair back, wood scraping lightly against carpet, he rose to face the two females who should be three.

“Are you writing to her?” Aelin asked quietly, shifting so Rowan could wrap his arms around her waist, his head rested atop of hers.

“Yes,” he said just above a whisper. Their babe would sleep through almost anything, he knew that, but seeing the peaceful and angelic face always made him feel like he needed to hold his breath, lest he disturb her.

“I have something for Fenrys to bring her,” Aelin admitted, and Rowan knew that was an invitation for him to offer up his own letter, perhaps even a request.

“I'll have mine finished by the end of the night,” he promised. His wife leaned back into him, tilting her head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

”Good,” she murmured, leaning her cheek against his chest this time.

Nothing, except this, felt as good as it should right now. Someone was missing. “I miss her,” he said without thinking, wincing internally after.

“Of course you do. I miss her too.”

“I should be angry.”

“Who says you can't miss her and be royally pissed off?” Aelin huffed, tilting to meet his eyes, saying  'I am,' silently. He wondered why it had to be silent, as if missing her was such a weakness. He supposed the fewer people who knew she wasn’t currently in the castle the better, but it would be difficult to hide that for long. Word would get out.

Regardless, it had only been a week, and gods they felt like a mess. He hadn't realized just how much her presence soothed them. When they got her back, something would have to change. Whatever it took. Once, he'd figured out how to help Aelin keep her, this time the two of them could figure it out together.

-

Fenrys paced. He should’ve noticed something was off with her. He hadn’t lied to Aelin or Rowan when they pestered him, when Rowan pinned him against the wall with a knife to his throat.

How could she do that? To Aelin who’d saved -

Well, he saw Aelin as his savior, his Queen, but he realized she might see her in a different light. It didn’t change the way he saw his Queen but maybe added more perspective to her actions.

It didn’t change the fact that he was pissed at her.

As soon as Aedion returned, having left on Aelin’s orders days prior to the birth, he’d take on his newest mission. Finding her, remaining unseen, and reporting back. It would take massive amounts of self control to keep him from dragging her ass back immediately.

He was reluctant to approach Aelin and ask her to do it, but he needed to have that guarantee of control. Four days after she’d given birth, he built up enough courage to approach her, making sure Rowan was present as well. He was extra testy, given the circumstances.

“I need a favor from you, if I’m to do…if I'm to find her.”

“Anything,” Aelin said.

Just as Rowan asked, “what is it?”

“Use the blood oath.” Aelin blanched, he kept talking. “I don’t trust myself not to bring her back. Immediately.” He didn’t know what they thought his reasons might be, he didn’t care, they were his own. She was a sister to him, regardless of this, and only four days without her and he missed her more than he thought was possible. He’d only ever missed Connall like this.

“Are you certain?” She asked, just once.

He nodded, “yes.”

Her mouth tightened, but she gave the order. The tug wasn’t uncomfortable like Maeve’s, it felt like what it was -a favor, a sweet and comforting hold, it felt like trust and reassurance. He didn’t know he needed it.

-

She perched on the edge of the bar, head on a swivel in the tavern. This was … unusual for her. Before them, perhaps it would've been a comfortable scene but after them nothing was the same.

“Loosen up,” her cousin jammed her shoulder into hers. She glared, and took a deep drink from her pint.

Was this really where she wanted to be? No, absolutely not, but she was stuck here because some busy bodies were convinced she needed to loosen up and have a 'good time.'

“Maybe you could fine someone to take your mind off things?” Ella waggled her brows. Her fists clenched at her sides. Another person being where her mates had been? Taking her to those heights? Impossible. Even she knew nobody could ever hope to compare to them, and she wouldn't dare try. One, she didn't want to. Two, the things they would do if they ever found out? Plus, their scent was so thoroughly entwined in hers, claiming her feasibly for the rest of her existence.

She watched as her cousins smile faltered, but she couldn't find a pleasant word to bring to the table.

”I was kidding,” Ella forced a smile back on her face. “But you're going out with us, so wipe that sour expression off your face and get dressed. I'm tired of you moping. Bring back my fun cousin.”

'Bring back my fun cousin,' still echoed in her head. Was she really that miserable to be around? That much of a drag?

-

Fenrys was grateful the tavern was crowded enough to hide his scent, and so well used to travelers that they didn't question a male with a cloak pulled far over his head.

He wondered how she'd gotten around the bargain they'd made all that time ago. She, his sister, wasn't supposed to be here without him. Perhaps she'd traveled to the outskirts and gotten one of her family members to bring her the rest of the way.

They'd do it without too many questions, at first. He knew that. If Rowan and Aelin were persona non grata to her family right now, what did that make him?

A sense of grief and loss hit him harder than he expected.

A tug pulled him across the room, to an opposite corner. He followed, watching as she pivoted and stared directly at the spot he'd just been standing in. Perhaps Aelins bargain was working even better than intended. He shouldn't need it. This is something he was more than capable of but right now he was being uncharacteristically careless.

That wouldn't do.

Fenrys slipped out the door as soon as she turned back around. He had a few messages to deliver. Really, he should've cleared off as soon as he scented her - could tell she was alive, but he had to see she was…he had to see.

-

She knew they'd be aware of where She went, at least eventually, but she hadn't expected letters to arrive quite so soon. Or for them to move her so fucking much. That's how she knew it was about time for her to move on, to find somewhere new to haunt. Although she knew they'd never dare harm her family, being here when she knew her mates were so volatile felt a lot like tempting fate and not in a good way. Was there any good way to tempt fate?

In the beginning, when they found each other, she thought she was stumbling on a good thing, but with most good things in her life it slowly poisoned itself til it reached a breaking point. Til she reached her breaking point, and realized that if she didn't choose herself then, she never would. So she did the only reasonable thing, and the most wicked thing she'd done in her life. She ran, just as her mate was at one of the most vulnerable moments of her life, giving birth. It's possible she'd poisoned the memory of that day, but part of her also wondered if everything was better now that she was gone. She'd been a burden, a drag on the two of them and their perfection.

“Letters for you,” her cousin announced as she returned from her walk. She frowned.

Ella waggled the papers in front of her, and she snatched them from the air. A nuisance, her cousin was a downright nuisance sometimes but at least she knew better than to read someone's mail.

The letters. Three distinct scents still attached to them. Her heart stopped, time froze.

Not yet. 

She wasn't ready, it couldn't be time.

Ella noticed the change in her demeanor, and said, “I'll give you some privacy,” before she could argue that privacy was the last thing she needed, the other female had disappeared, leaving her with shaky hand and three slips of parchment, adorned on the outside with just her name, that could change everything.

My mate,

I know you are not likely to return soon, but I dream of it each night, along with what I would do differently if I could go back. Would it please you if I were to write everything out in a letter? There's little I wouldn't do for you, my love. Nothing is the same without you here.

Tell me what to do, anything, and I will make it happen for you.

R.W.G

Petal,

We're a wreck without you.

A.

My sister,

Picking yourself is admirable, but it doesn't change the fact that I miss you dearly.

Your chosen brother.

Tears slid down her face as she finished reading them. Paper she should burn, but instead it was tucked away to an inside pocket. To keep, to re-read in the late hours of the night, when her candle should already be extinguished, to hold close until the scent of them disappeared, and then to let her imagination fool her into believing they might still be there, that if she tried hard enough she may still be able to scent them.

-

She packed her things early in the morning, just Ella there to see her off. She'd figured out what she was planning and volunteered to tell the rest of her family for her. She was braver than she was, that's for sure. Still, Ella seemed to understand why she wouldn't tell her cousin her next plans or where she was headed after. She wondered who gave her that kind of understanding, and who exactly she'd have to hunt down and eliminate one day. Or it could be ten years spent on the run from Adarlan that did it. Either way, Ella would shut down if she started digging for information, she knew her cousin well enough to know that.

“You'll be back to visit, of course,” she said hesitantly. It broke another part of her already shattered soul. 

“If it's safe,” she said quietly.

Her frown brought a tang of guilt she couldn't control. “I think you forget how much we survived together sometimes.” Guilt crept in for another reason. Her cousins were more than capable. They'd all, herself included, survived ten years in their animal forms under Adarlan's occupation.

If anyone could weather the storm of her mates, it was them, but that didn't mean she felt any better about leaving them in their path of destruction.

She broke a little more with each step and bound as she traveled, and as she approached the meeting spot she was little more than a collection of shards and smashed pieces. As delicate as glass. She’d rebuild, put herself back together.

Sticking to her animal form, she made good progress. Better than she expected, really, but considering she was avoiding people at all costs it made sense. She needed to go somewhere they wouldn't expect. They probably thought she'd flee the continent, perhaps to Antica or even to Wendlyn, but…her soul wouldn't let her go quite that far and she hated herself for it. More than she usually did.

Why did the one act of self love she'd engaged in, as far back as she could remember, have to feel so much like hate? Why couldn't her mates have loved her like she deserved? If they'd just done that one thing, they wouldn't be in this situation.

The truth was, she was bitter, and resentful, and likely would be for some time. She thought she had good reason to be. 

It wasn’t long before she arrived at her destination, her home even if it was temporary. Melisande. 

-

Work wasn’t all that difficult to find. Summoning courage she didn’t know she had, she found the nearest tinkering shop, walked in, and asked for a job. 

“Sit with me for a few hours,” the man, smiling, said, and motioned towards the extra stool behind the counter. Carefully, she picked her way over there, mouth curving up at the corners. “I have a story that I'd like to tell you, and it starts with one of my finest creations, and ends with spider silk.” 

She listened, in fascination as the man explained every last detail of his creation, from top to bottom. She got the impression he didn’t have many people willing to listen to this kind of detail, let alone be able to understand it but she found herself naturally oohing and awing in all of the correct places. He put her at ease, and it felt like a long while since anyone was able to do that. 

The suit sounded familiar somehow, although she couldn’t quite place it or put a name to how. 

The man patted her on the shoulder when he’d finished, and she fought the urge to flinch backwards, keeping her back ramrod straight instead. 

“Very well, let’s see what you can do now. Is there a material you prefer?” 

“Not glass. It’s been a bit temperamental for me recently.” 

“Wood it is,” he handed her a rough piece of cedarwood, and sat her down at a workstation in the back. 

“I’ll come back in an hour,” he called over his shoulder and returned to mind the shop. 

What was the most impressive thing she could make in an hour? 

Magic flowing through her, she warped the material, letting it curve and bend in ways wood didn’t grow. Maybe she should’ve explained before that she used magic. She let the magic do its work, turning herself into a vessel for it to extend its wishes, its wants. 

At the end of the hour, she was left with a near perfect replica of a hawk in flight. She blinked back the tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand as the man re-entered the room. 

“Oh how wonderful,” he exclaimed. “You didn’t explain you have magic,” he said with a tone of awe, not fear, thankfully. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly. 

He waved off the apology, “people like us are hard to come by, let alone those who have your gift. Very well, you’re hired.” 

She wondered if her magic had an extra role to play in how she got the position, but she kept that thought locked inside and instead thanked him profusely. 

“Do you have somewhere to sleep? I know a lady renting out the rooms above her shop. As long as you don’t have any great debts you could afford it with what I’ll pay you. Plus you’ll be earning commissions on any works you put out.” 

Considering the harm she’d done, she didn’t feel like she deserved this kindness from a stranger. Maybe it made her a wretch, but she took it anyway. 

-

Years passed, and nobody came for her. Despite never feeling this free, she mourned the life that could have been. The life she should have had. 

-

“Did you hear the news?” He passed the paper to her with a flourish. “Right from your home. The Queen of Terrasen is abdicating her throne, passing rule off to her eldest and only child.” 

Her eldest child, now approaching mid thirties. The man in front of her, the son of the one who’d originally hired her, beamed expectantly. She’d always thought he had a bit of a crush on her, but she’d reinforced the boundary of friends firmly, and he’d never pushed. 

Somehow, she’d still retained those same lodgings and her salary and work both had afforded her the chances to travel to neighboring territories and explore, bringing back different raw materials for them to work with. 

“I didn’t,” she murmured, sipping her tea. “Thank you for telling me.” 

She pretended to read the newspaper, really her eyes were glazing over, not processing any of the information in front of her. Abdicated. Would they come for her now? How old was this news? 

She’d laid down roots here, deep and generations long roots. She couldn’t exactly get up and run again. Were they aware that she was cornered now? Did they care?  

But part of her ached for them, still did decades later. Still wanted them back. But another part, perhaps equally as strong, relished her freedom. 

What would they do now?

She tapped her fingers against the wooden bench. She’d been ‘hidden’ here for so long, there was no reason to expect they’d come looking for her now. 

-

Rowan would miss the castle, but he and Aelin had both acknowledged it was time to move on, to let their eldest and only child take up reign now that she was ready. And they had unfinished business further south. 

They came in the middle of the night, and centuries should have been enough to ebb his anger, but some of it still bled through. 

Rowan had already crafted the letter explaining she had urgent business back home, still able to copy his mates handwriting perfectly. 

“Ready?” He murmured to Aelin, voice just carrying enough for her to hear. They stood in the alley outside of her apartment, each with a hood pulled low over their faces to obscure their features. They were recognizable everywhere, but they needed to do this task for themselves. 

She’d stolen from them, stolen the chance at a life with her, and in turn they’d steal her back. 

“Add kidnapping to our list of crimes,” Aelin huffed. 

“Haven’t we done that already?” 

“Probably.” 

He could tell his mate was nervous, and he was too - to a certain extent. 

“Lets go,” he finally said, leading the way up the stairs.

A few quick movements from Aelin and the lock was picked, the door swinging open. Not even a deadbolt. He added it to his list of reasons to be angry.

Silent feet moved them up the stairs, and they found her door already unlocked, and voices. 

There hadn’t been a soul here when they scouted it earlier. Or the days prior. 

He glanced at Aelin, but before he could convey a question he heard a moan. Her moan. 

“That feels good,” her breathy voice reached his Fae ears. 

Red hot fury filled every inch of his being, and Aelin pushed through the doors, Rowan hot on her heels. 

Fenrys hadn’t reported her having a lover. 

Her bedroom door was wide open, she laid flat on her stomach, a male above her. 

Metal flew, and his and Aelin’s knives lodged simultaneously, one in the back, one in the back of the neck. He fell flat on top of her, muffling her scream, his blood splattered on her sheets, the bits of her skin he could see. 

Aelin stalked across the room first, more pissed than he’d seen her in decades. She shoved the man off the top of her, fist winding through her hair, yanking her up to sit at the edge of the bed. “Are you fucking him?” She snarled. 

She hadn’t been, at least not in that moment, but that didn’t say anything about the past. 

“He’s a friend,” she whispered. “He was giving me a massage.” 

Another male was putting hands on his mate, in an intimate way. 

Rowan seethed, and moved next to Aelin. “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to.” 

“I’d never cheat on you,” she said, nearly desperate. A gag of fire wrapped around her mouth. Rowan could tell it was hot, but not enough to burn. A warning. 

“You let another person put hands on you,” Aelin’s fist, still wrapped in your hair, squeezed. “You moaned for him.” She winced. He rolled his eyes. There would be worse now, before the night was out. 

Decades apart hadn’t taken the sting out of the mating bond, and he doubted anything would, but somehow his petal had figured it out. 

No matter how long they spent apart, she was his and Aelin’s, and apparently needed a reminder of that. 

He flipped her on her stomach, shoving the dress up above her ass. A piece of silk barely covered her. He crouched down and ran his hands over her ass, letting one smack against the skin, enjoying the way she wiggled in front of him, trying to get away. Aelin had shoved the man’s body and it toppled to the floor on the other side, his blood still staining her sheets. Good. He’d fuck her in it so she never forgot exactly who she belonged to. 

Wind bound her hands behind her back.  

Carelessly, he tossed her on the bed, Aelin already stripped from the waist, leaning against her headboard. 

-

This wasn’t supposed to be about her pleasure, she knew that, but by the gods she was turned on. It was a claiming, pure and simple. They could probably already scent her arousal, and Aelin grabbed her shoulders pulling her up the bed towards her. 

“If you come, I'll turn that ass black and blue for two weeks,” she warned her. 

Rowan pulled her hips up, already at her entrance. “I’ll help her,” he added. 

You whimpered as he shoved in, not giving you anytime to adjust. He had no idea nobody had been there since he last had, and she had no way of telling him. It hurt, burn, stung, lit her entire body on fire. 

Aelin released the gag, just to shove her right towards her already glistening cunt. “Make it good,” she ordered. She would, part of her feared the consequences if she didn’t, but another part of her, growing stronger, wanted it despite how wrong it was. The blood hadn’t even dried fully on the sheets. 

The pain behind her slowly ebbed into something else, into pleasure she hadn’t felt in decades. Rowan moved relentlessly, making her use all of her focus on pleasuring Aelin. The moans ahead of and behind her only fueled her further. She squeezed around him, used her tongue to flick Aelin’s clit rapidly, and brought them both closer and closer to release. 

She was always giving to them, why would anything change now? 

-

The estate was in the middle of nowhere, seemingly, the closest town an hour's ride away. A small skeleton staff of servants, all trusted to keep their affairs private.

She laid on the table, face turned to the side as Rowan prepared his materials. Ink. Needles. Sketched design. A design of their names, to go permanently on her body. Not as deep as the twin sets of scars on either side of her neck, but something else permanent.

When he'd asked, it hadn't felt like a question but she'd wanted it regardless. Wanted them sketched onto her. She didn't have the courage to ask if they'd be getting a tattoo for her in turn, but it turns out she didn't need to. Aelin had shown her that night, on her back weaved in with Aelin's other tattoos was her name, and Rowan had hers done similarly, on the inside of his forearm.

Their names would be written, in ink and blood, on her upper right back. Large font, too, based on Rowan's design.

“Breathe for me,” he said, sitting and dipping the needle into the pot. She would, as every bit of her belonged to them. 

-

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