#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

[luludeluluramblings]

Platonic!Yandere!BatFamily x Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Romantic!Yandere!Roy Harper - AU

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I had this in the works and have been hesitant to post it. I hope I wrote Roy and Lian right! After Conner won the poll I know some people wanted Roy stuff. Also, I'm very inexperienced in writing Romance, despite my love for it. So comments are appreciated.

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mild yandere themes, Fem!Reader, Pregnancy

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

It's not uncommon to find yourself tossing and turning at all the odd hours of the night as your pregnancy progresses. Be it from the hormone driven nightmares or the restlessness your feel from your approaching due date. The bed filled with all sorts of maternity pillows to help you rest. Roy had been a surprising addition to your bed as well. At first, it was because he had snuck into your room after moving into the manor right under Bruce's nose. Or, maybe he moved in without care of what Bruce thought.

Either way, more often then not, you feel asleep to him rubbing your back and helping ease your aches. So, you weren't going to complain. The fact that he was the father of this child in your womb also helped his case with you. But, not so much as the rest of the family.

Still, it was something else entirely this night that kept your awake.

“Hey, you’re moving around a lot. Everything alright?" Roy whispers over your shoulder, moving one of the obnoxiously sized pillows that Stephanie bought you out of the way as he pressed himself against your back. The hour was late or early, judging by how long the sun had been gone.

“Yeah, baby just has the hiccups. Go back to bed." You sigh tiredly, feeling the odd sensation happening inside of you.

“Oh, okay…" He murmurs into your ear before burying himself into your hair. After taking a deep breath of you and closing his eyes, they fly back open and his hand moves to your bump. “Wait, the baby has what? How? He’s not even out yet?

As Roy's warm and calloused hand moves across your skin he can feel the faint rhythmic movement underneath his palm.

“He just does. I can feel them in my damn pelvis. I can’t even hold my breath to get rid of them cause it him that has them." Comes your grumbled complaint, feel a particularly sharp kick from your ribs before the steady hiccups continue. Normally, you'd laugh at the sensation, but it was difficult to relax at the moment.

“That is so cool and so freaky… I wonder if Lian did the same thing?" Roy ponders out loud, distracting you from his exhaustion and making concern fill you.

“You weren’t there when Lian was in utero?" You shift to roll over and face him as you whisper. It takes a bit of huffing, but he wraps his arms around you like you belong as soon as your chest faces his.

“No, I didn’t even know about Lian until she was a year old. I missed… everything." More than a hint of longing in his voice as he spoke.

“I don’t know how much she weighed. If she had had health problems. I didn’t see her first steps, her first word. Hell, I hardly had to change any diapers because she was half way out of them before she was two." Roy had never really thought of kids before Lian. Too many issues, but, now that he had her, he was upset to have even missed a single moment of it. Already he found his thoughts drifting to slightly darker places as his grip tightens around you.

“I wouldn’t complain about that, 'cause Imma be making you change the first couple diapers when he gets here." You playfully whisper back to him, wanting to draw him way from such dark places after he's brought so much light to your life. Not just with your shared child, but with just his and Lian's presence.

“You know what, I won’t complain about that. I’ll do it." He grins into your hair, fingers dancing across your skin.

“I bet Lian will be better at it then you." Your own fingers poking him softly in retaliation for the goosebumps peppering your skin from the gentle caress.

“Hey! Low blow." Roy says without any heat in his voice. There is, however, heat in his eyes as his voice goes from good-natured to one that has nothing less than nefarious intentions. "You know, if you're having a hard time sleeping, I'm all for tiring you out."

"Oh, really?" The idea not exactly making you balk. Not with how he's fondling you like somethings worth worshiping.

"Really really." His lips grazing your skin as he moves them from the top of your head and trails them along your jaw. His hands roaming across your skin with the intention of feeling you and not just the life you both created.

"Roy, what about Lian? She's been having an awful amount of nightmares since moving into the manor." Pausing as the thought occurs to you. The poor child seemed to be sleeping between you both every other night. You didn't complain to much. You knew how empty the halls of the manor felt and for Lian it was probably startling.

Besides, you appreciated how sweet the girl was. How she already accepted you and talked excitedly about her future younger brother.

(And, how each word she spoke of the matter around your own family made them physically cringe with the weight of the guilt they carried.)

Your words do nothing to deter Roy, though. The kisses across your skin growing bolder and with more teeth as hands slide underneath the fabric of your lose pajamas.

"It'll be okay, just let me-"

"Daddy?" Comes a soft voice from the small figure in your door way.

"Damn it…" Neither one of you heard the door open, and you had to fight the urge to whine and say 'I told you so' as Roy's hand left you and he sat up.

"Can I sleep with you guys? I had another nightmare." The explanation causing you to smile softly. As stated, you couldn’t blame her.

"Sure, sweetpea. Come on." You call to her while Roy seems to pout a bit. Neither one of you had been intimate with the other since he had moved into the manor. Mostly due to interruptions such as this.

Still, you weren't upset. In fact, you fell asleep quite quickly as Lian settled between you both. The hiccups inside you having subsided as your lay back down and let exhaustion take over with a faint smile on your lips.

Silence reigns over your room for a few minute before Roy's voice rings out in a low, almost annoyed whisper.

"How much did you get out of them this time, baby girl?"

"$200, and everyone has to take me to the toy store tomorrow." Lian whispers back to him with a mischief filled grin. She hasn't had a single nightmare since moving into the manor. Not with all the cash she's been getting. She may be five, but she knew money got you candy and toys, and she was getting a lot of it just from sleeping between her parents.

"Everyone, huh?" Roy mutters, an idea filling his head. He knew what Jason and the other's were up to. Every time he was about to have his way with you, Lian needed him or would want to spend time with you. He wasn't too mad. Lian was spoiled nicely, but his balls were starting to turn blue.

However, luck might finally be on his side.

"Think you'll be okay without me and your new Momma tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I wanna get my new brother stuff with all the money Uncle Tim and Uncle Jason keep giving me and surprise Momma with it." She whispers excited up to her daddy while curling up close to her new Momma.

"That's a great idea, sweetheart. A great idea." And, it was.

No one would be in the manor to stop him from fucking you on the living room couch in front of one of the security cameras. Plus, he'd really like to have that footage saved anyway. He had all sorts of plans for tiring you out tomorrow while everyone was gone.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: 🫣 I tried! Someone sent me an ask about a blurb like this for Conner, and I wanted to finish this first.

A/N: Also, I am very much debating on writing an entirely different Pregnant!Reader AU with just strictly the Bat Boys. Yes, I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but I want to embrace the drama of it. I’d do a whole different poll any everything with it because I have more planned for that than I do right for Pregnant!Reader right now. Kinda winging it there! I should finish what I got now though.

[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.

[bunnysnuff]

Stiff.

Pairing: Elphaba Thropp x reader, Galinda Upland x reader (platonic), Elphaba Thropp x Galinda Upland (platonic).

Trigger warning: a little sad ig

Request.

Note: I re wrote this scene to make it shorter :) and because I couldn’t remember the scene.. sooooo🤍

The Emerald City was everything Glinda had described—a shimmering jewel at the heart of Oz. Green glass towers spiraled into the sky, lights cast emerald reflections across the streets, and music seemed to float through the air like magic. But you couldn’t enjoy the spectacle. Something about the city felt cold and hollow, as though it were trying too hard to distract from its darker truths.

You glanced at Elphaba, walking beside you, her shoulders stiff and her brow furrowed. Her eyes scanned the crowds, and you could see the distrust etched into her features. She hadn’t said much since your group had entered the city, but you could feel the weight of her apprehension.

On the other side of you, Glinda hummed happily, practically bouncing with excitement. “Isn’t it marvelous?” she gushed, gesturing at a sparkling shop window. “Oh, look! That dress would be perfect for me!”

Elphaba shot her a withering look. “We’re not here to shop, Glinda.”

“Oh, don’t be so dour,” Glinda said with a wave of her hand. “We’re in the Emerald City! Even you have to admit it’s amazing.”

Elphaba scoffed but didn’t respond. You took her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, her stern expression softened. She didn’t pull away.

The three of you finally reached the Wizard’s palace, its gleaming green gates towering above. You tried to ignore the uneasy knot forming in your stomach as the guards ushered you inside.

The Wizard greeted you with charm and grandeur, his booming voice filling the chamber. For a moment, even you felt a flicker of awe. But Elphaba was unmoved. She stood tall, her chin high, as she presented her case—pleading for change, for justice, for truth.

But then the truth he revealed shattered everything.

The Wizard’s supposed magic was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Worse, he had been complicit in the suffering Elphaba had hoped to stop. When he tried to convince her to join him—to use her power to maintain his control—she snapped.

“You think I would help you manipulate and oppress people?” Elphaba’s voice cracked with fury. “You’re a fraud. A coward!”

“Now, now, my dear,” the Wizard said, his tone dangerously smooth. “There’s no need to be rash. Together, we could accomplish great things. Think of the power you’d wield.”

“I don’t want your power!” she shouted. Her magic surged, making the air in the room crackle. “I want freedom. For all of us.”

The guards stepped forward, but Elphaba turned, grabbing your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Wait!” Glinda cried. She looked back at the Wizard, her face conflicted. “Maybe… maybe we could change things. From the inside.”

Elphaba froze, her expression hardening. “You can’t change a system designed to crush people, Glinda. You can only burn it down.”

Glinda’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she shook her head. “I just don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry.”

Elphaba let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you can’t. You never could.” She turned away, pulling you toward the door. “Come on. I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.”

You glanced back at Glinda, your heart aching for her indecision. “I’m sorry, Glinda,” you whispered. “But she’s right. I’m going with her.”

The two of you ran through the labyrinth of streets, dodging guards and slipping into shadows. The city’s beauty seemed twisted now, its green glow sinister and oppressive. Elphaba didn’t speak, her grip on your hand tight as she led you through dark alleys and hidden paths.

Finally, you stopped in a deserted courtyard, far from the Wizard’s palace. Elphaba leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. Her hands trembled as she pushed her hair back, her jaw set in anger and despair.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Elphaba…”

She flinched at your touch but didn’t pull away. “You didn’t have to come with me,” she said, her voice low and raw. “You could’ve stayed with Glinda. She’s the one everyone loves. The one who belongs in this perfect little city.”

“I didn’t want to stay with her,” you replied. “I wanted to stay with you.”

Elphaba turned to you, her piercing green eyes searching yours. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you risk everything for me?”

“Because I believe in you,” you said, your voice steady. “Because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re willing to fight for what’s right, even when it’s hard. You’re not alone in this, Elphaba. I won’t let you be.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to find the lie in your words. Then, slowly, her expression crumbled. “You’re the only one who hasn’t turned your back on me,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “I don’t know why I deserve that.”

“You don’t have to deserve it,” you said, reaching for her hand. “I’m here because I care about you. Because I—”

The words caught in your throat, but you didn’t need to finish. Elphaba’s fingers curled around yours, her touch hesitant but steady.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears shone in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “I don’t know if I can do this. But I’ll try. If you’re with me.”

“Always,” you promised.

In the silence that followed, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter. Together, you stepped into the night, ready to face whatever came next.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[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.

[0mg-bird]

How Did It End?

Post Prison! Spencer x Fem!Fiancee Reader

Summary: Almost four months since Spencer came home and the fairytale that once was your life has come crashing down around you.

Warnings: ☹️ ouch. Angst. PTSD. Taylor Swift ‘How did it end?’ coded. hurt/comfort. this hurt to write, don’t hate me. Reid my poor baby has some stuff to work out.

W.H. Auden once wrote,

‘Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, though this might take a little time.’

Poetry was something you were no stranger to, given the fact you taught an advanced creative writing class at the local high school.

You once enjoyed poetry.

But now, when the words feel like knives aimed at you, you can’t bear to indulge in the afternoon readings like you used to.

Instead, afternoons are spent in an apartment that somehow lost its warmth. Before, you’d claim it’s because Spencer was gone, that things would be brighter when you brought him home. He’s been home for three months, a little longer, the weather has begun to change, warping into a melancholy winter. You sit at your desk, staring at your computer screen, spinning your engagement ring around your finger.

You’ve been trying to get back into writing, trying to revisit your archived story. Though, it’s hard to revisit a fictional romance mystery when there’s nothing to inspire it.

Groaning, you delete half of the last paragraph you’ve written and try to type something that isn’t cliche. Pushing through the urge to stop, you write until the words flow thoroughly and there’s a key turning in the door.

There he was, the love of your life.

Spencer trudges into the apartment and drops his bag by the door, his shoes find a home beside it. The circles under his eyes are darker than they were this morning when he left, he runs a hand through his hair and glances over at you when you stand with a grin.

“Hi.” You do your best to beam, conveying just how much it excites you to see him.

“Hi.” He mumbles, tossing you a tight lipped smile as he walks towards the bedroom.

Trying to push away the sick feeling in your gut, you turn back to your blind optimism and take your glasses off.

It takes eight steps from the bedroom door to the closet, it takes him three steps to pace and grab casual clothes. In about a minute, he takes off his day clothes and pulls on something that doesn’t feel constricting. You memorized every foot step he makes in this home, it’s easy to focus on when you spent some time not hearing it.

By the time he comes back out to retrieve his bag and sit on the couch, you grab up your laptop and sit on the other end of the sofa.

Paperwork and files soon lay on the coffee table and you watch him organize and complete end of the day tasks. Patiently waiting your turn, when Spencer finally relaxes back into the cushions, you slide closer.

“How was your day?” You ask.

He grunts. “Nothing worth talking about. Oh, I’m going to Connecticut next week to do a seminar, I’ll be gone two days.”

You nod. “That’s exciting, right?”

He shrugs, then there’s silence.

You scoot closer. “I was working on some things, I think I’m finally getting back into the groove of it. You want to read the last chapter I made?”

He motions to the coffee table. “Yeah, just leave it there and I’ll take a glance later. I’m debating on if I want to shower before dinner or after.”

“I was thinking we could go out for dinner, we haven’t in a while.” You offer with a hopeful smile.

Spencer frowns. “I’m not really feeling a social scene right now.”

“Oh, yeah, no, of course.” You quickly say. “We could do take out then, Italian maybe?”

He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t do take out anymore, it’s basically inviting a serial killer into our home, giving him some place to come back later when I’m not around.”

Right. The paranoia.

You knew things were going to be different when Spencer came home, and you did your best to adjust with an open mind. Sleepless nights consoling him, countless days spent trying to pull him from his own mind. Through tears and breaking points and a few instances where he utterly scares you, you know he’s still your same Spence, but just a little hardened now. He’s still the man who spent too much on a ring, still the dorky guy you fell for those years ago.

Things are just…a little rough.

“Okay.” You say to his statement. “I’ll whip something up then.”

At the sight of your willingness to give something up, he feels immensely bad.

“No.” He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I’m being stupid. Italian sounds fine.”

The bad habit of being too harsh on himself has been hard to kick, but it’s getting better… you think.

So you order Italian and eat in front of the television while Spencer fact checks what the characters are saying, criticizing the antics of these fictional people. It feels so normal, the whole situation, it makes you momentarily have amnesia, as if the two of you are exactly like before. You lean into his side and laugh at the sitcom, thinking that this Spencer hasn’t experienced what he has, that everyone around the two of you still feel the happy affects of your love, that you test wedding cakes and look for a bigger place. A place the two of you can buy together and start a family.

“I’m gonna shower.” He says, rubbing your shoulder.

Looking up at him, you smile playfully. “Want company?”

There it was, that reminder that things weren’t like before.

He kind of just shakes his head with a smile and leaves without anything else.

You know he doesn’t mean to, but sometimes he makes you feel about an inch tall. He used to look at you with this heavy gaze, something needy, something that never failed to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. His hands would find a home on your skin, he used to kiss for fun.

You don’t remember exactly when he last gripped you in a way that wasn’t just polite.

You know he has fears, he has it in his head that he is a danger to himself and you, that his hands are murderous, but it doesn’t feel the best when you’re constantly rejected by the man you’re going to marry.

Rubbing your eyes, you clean up the dinner mess and then go to the bedroom to slip into pajamas. The floor length mirror shines your reflection, you stop to stare.

Maybe you weren’t the first pick, maybe you hated what you saw sometimes, but the thing about Spencer was he was so sure that no one could ever do it like you. A slew of compliments he’d give you, the fever of his love was scorching.

You give the girl in the mirror a smile, then comb her hair with your fingers and smooth your tank top.

Silly enough, you turn to the side, wrapping your arms around an invisible bump, and you smile fondly at the thought. Two kids. A boy and a girl. Little geniuses. That’s what he and you would talk about. The next thing after he marries you, the next thing he’d do was give you a baby. He swore up and down at night when you laid with your head on his beating heart, he’d give you the family you craved and your face would hurt from smiling so much.

All plans are at a stand still now.

And that’s okay, wasn’t it? This was a rough patch and you’re helping Spencer get through it because you’d help him with anything-

The bedroom door opens, Spencer walks in and you step away from the looking glass.

“I’m going to get ready for bed.” You mumble, walking past him, cheeks burning red.

To say the least, Spencer feels horrible. Here you were, giving him your undying loyalty, holding his hand through all of it, and he’s the reason life has stopped. You’re so brave about it, always patient and understanding.

He hates it.

You should be angry, you should be arguing. He knows his bad moods kill you, he knows you’re waiting for things to be normal again and they won’t. You get up in the middle of the night when he’s asleep and put on your wedding dress, just to smile at yourself and promise that soon, it’ll be better. You think he doesn’t realize, that he’s passed out, but from the bed he watches you turn in front of the mirror and bite your lip, the way you always do when you’re too pleased with something. Then he sees you cry, softly, hand pressed to lips so you don’t make any noise and inconvenience him. You only let the break happen for a fee minutes, then you wipe your tears, take off the dress and tell yourself that it’s all alright.

Things will be okay.

What if they won’t?

What if it all just crumbles, every wall of the castles built?

It’s not a matter of ‘what if’s’ anymore, is it? Not when the two of you argue into the morning about things. You’re trying so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt but when he isn’t giving you anything at all, it makes for situations like this one.

Head in your hands, you pause for a brief moment and breathe before looking back up at Spencer. The two of you have been at this for about an hour and a half, all because you mentioned how unfair he’s being. Here you were, taking the scraps he throws to you like you’re a dog, and he’s saying it’s you who is unfair.

“I know you want things to go back to the way they were, but it’s not gonna happen.” He says in that bitter tone you hate, looking down at you, sitting on the mattress.

“I know things are different, Spencer.” You claim. “But I didn’t think I had to be okay with you hardly looking at me, or-or not baring to ask me a simple question like how my day was.”

He scoffs at you, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry if my attention isn’t devoted to you now.”

You stand to match his position. “Don’t make me seem selfish.” You shout.

“I’m- you’re not selfish, I just…what do you want from me?” He questions, throwing his arms out and staring at you with absolutely no love in his eyes.

“What do I want?” You reword. “What I want is some progress. Every day I wake up, and I do my best to convince you that you’re not something evil, that these unforeseen circumstances don’t define you, and it’s like I’m stuck in a loop. I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”

A lump forms in your throat, your eyes burn but you can’t find it in yourself to let those tears fall.

“That’s the problem!” Spencer shouts. “You’re looking at me like I’m some sort of sick animal and I can’t stand it!”

“You’re looking at me like I’m not the love of your life anymore, so I suppose some things change.”

Silence.

Spencer’s at a loss for words.

Your tears start falling now. You wipe at them with fever.

“I’m trying to give you time, Spence.”

“Angel-” He tries to interrupt, only to be stopped with the movement of your hand in the air, halting him.

“Don’t. Don’t be like this. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I have felt so alone.” You say with a squeak. “And you just… don’t care.”

He shakes his head, demeanor changing. “Of course I care!”

“Really? Because it feels like you gave up on me when you gave up on yourself.” You gasp lightly, trying to calm your shaking hands. “And that’s mean, baby. I know you have been through so much and you lost the game of chance, and I’m sorry- I am so sorry, but you can’t toss me aside like I haven’t formed my whole life around you!”

It’s strange, standing in a room that once knew laughter and the warmth of your escapades. Only now, it’s ghostly and tired and blue. Spencer wants to defend it, wants to shout that you’re just not understanding him but it’s wrong. You understand him better than anyone ever has, and you’re immensely right, he’s abusing the situation. He knows all of this and can’t help but back peddle like his life depends on it.

“I’m not trying to toss you aside, I’m sorry.” He says, reaching out to grab you, deciding his touch can’t be your downfall.

But you side step him. “But you are, do you not understand? Use that smart head of yours to realize the instance here.” You plead. “If you’re done trying, then I am to because I have no more to give. I’m empty, you took it all from me, Spence. What do I get in return? Nothing, not even a fucking marriage.”

There’s a certain level of hurt that mixes with the anger and creates something crazy in your brain, makes it malfunction and all your repressed thoughts come out.

As you go to leave the bedroom, Spencer follows after. “What does that mean?” He asks.

You need to get out, these walls are whispering with your promises of a future, they’re getting louder.

“You aren’t going to marry me.” You state, searching for some place to hide and sink away.

“Of course I am.” He claims, calling your name to stop you.

“You can’t even pretend like you love me, Spencer, you aren’t going to marry me.”

A hand catches your arm and spins you to face him. His eyes are confused and reeling.

“I do love you, I always have.”

There’s a waver in his voice, is there?

I swallow. “Say it again. With feeling.”

“I love you!”

As the air leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, you just can’t feel the warmth. It makes sense, ghosts have no heat, no matter how beloved they are. You know he expects you to give a different statement than what you do, and it hurts when you tell him the truth.

“I don’t think that’s enough now.”

“Don’t say that.” His tone comes out angrier than intended.

“I just did.”

One might describe him as a scared dog, one who lashes out now like he never used to.

“It’s not enough? Then why don’t you just spare yourself?” He spits, resembling a man you’ve never known, tossing your arm aside, probably too harshly.

The knife twists in your chest, you’re convinced you’re bleeding. Slowly, you nod. The ring seems to hold on for dear life, but you still pull it from your finger and offer it forward.

Everything inside of him feels sick as he reaches out his hand, watching as you drop the diamond into his palm.

With your heartbeat in your ears, you go to the door, sliding into your shoes and grabbing your heavy coat to brave into the weather. With Spencer calling your name, you shut the door on his impending questions of where you’re going.

Spencer stares at the door, and for a moment he can’t believe it all happened like it did. But he said the words and you followed his lead like the faithful partner you are and now you’re gone.

It takes him twenty two minutes before he begins to really panic. What if you’re gone forever? What if some force is going to take you now? Where did you go? Are you cold?

And if you left, that meant he’s alone for good, alone like he’s always been. How could he do this to you? He’s horrible, he’s a monster, all of those things he’s thought about are true.

He sets the ring on the counter, then throws the dirty coffee mug into the sink with such force, it breaks.

He paces the apartment while you stand at Penelope’s door, your dearest friend you only know because of Spencer, trying to hold it together until she comes to find you.

“What happened?” She asks, taking in your appearance.

“I don’t– know.” You sob out.

Two weeks later…

…

…

…It’s a weird feeling, having your spine split in half from carrying so much weight uphill for so long. You know a lot about weird feelings now, that empty space in your chest, Spencer sized, that’s your new lover.

Penelope sets a duffel bag by the pullout couch where you hardly move from, she’s been making trips to the apartment over the days to retrieve what you need.

“Hey, lovebug.” She coos softly, sitting by your knees, petting your mess of hair. “How was work?”

You open your mouth to tell her it was fine, that today was actually a good day, all the way up until Spencer texted you and asked if you wanted to move all of your things out.

A strangled sigh leaves your cracked lips.

This sums up how the last two weeks have been, and you wonder if Pen is a little embarrassed for you yet, the way you can hardly get out of bed.

“Emily and JJ and I are going out…why don’t you take a shower and come with us? It’ll make you feel better.” She says in such a gentle tone, one she’s learned that can get you to do anything.

It drags you to the shower, where you sag against the wall and do your daily crying. Then you get dressed and tame your hair and somehow make it to the bar.

Emily and JJ look at you with pity and you have no energy to be upset.

“Reid’s not enjoying it either.” Emily offers in a corner booth, because the conversation has turned to discussing the loss of your life.

Pen and JJ nod in agreement.

The BAU feels like they’re going through this break up at the way Spencer’s moods affect all of them. They’ve never known his anger like they do now, how he’s quick to snap, how the littlest thing sets him off. They’ll spare you, they won’t tell you how he swiped the picture frames off his desk, the ones of you and him. They won’t mention the fact that he hasn’t smiled once, that he looks like he doesn’t sleep.

They won’t tell you any of this but they’ll offer words of condolence or comfort, neither work.

“It’s going to be alright.” Emily encourages, squeezing your hand from across the table. “Heartache doesn’t stay forever.”

JJ nods like it’s going to fix the way you’re as empty as a drum.

“We all know how you’re feeling, don’t worry.” She says, her perfect, Barbie doll smile.

It makes you sick. You really shouldn’t take the anger out on anyone, but you do because there’s so much of it and you can’t stop it from flowing.

“You know what I’m going through?” You question her.

“Yes, I’ve had heartaches too.”

You suddenly can’t stand being here, you need to leave.

“You can go home to a husband, Jennifer, you don’t know how I feel.”

With those as your parting words, you flee, you tell Penelope you need air and you’ll see her at her apartment.

While you brave the cold city, the three women ask themselves how it could have possibly ended like this, with the greatest love of all in shambles. JJ calls Reid, of course she does.

“You need to fix this.” She tells him.

“…How is she?” He asks, sitting on the sofa, eyeing the framed pictures on the wall.

“She’s…lost. She’s ghostly, she-…Spencer, she loves you and she can’t stop. Fix it.”

“I don’t know how.” He says, monotone.

“How did it end, anyway?” She asks, seeing Emily and Penelope return with more drinks.

Spencer sort of sighs, though it’s sad and broken.

“I don’t know.”

- - - -

The air bites, it’s as cold as you feel, makes your bones ache. You wander in hopes of getting lost permanently, but to no avail, you know your city. Your city that feels so harsh and cruel, it’s one big reminder that you used to not walk the sidewalks alone, that you once stole kisses under streetlights. And as you’re walking down fifth avenue and memory lane, your feet drag you to the place you really want to go. In the time you left the bar and got frostbite from the early stages of falling snow, you’ve worked yourself up enough to believe you could stand your ground. Your anger has made a platform to stand on, you’re at the top of the fucking podium by the time you knock on the apartment door.

Why are you knocking?

Your name is on the fucking lease.

You shove the key in the lock and barge in, mouth agape, ready to fire.

And then you see it.

The bedroom door is only halfway shut, but you see movement. In the room that is gray and sullen, Spencer stands with his back to the door, staring at the cascade of white that he has laid on the bed like a memorial, like it was an open casket viewing.

Your podium shrinks.

“I was going to wear my hair up.” You say, causing him to turn and face you.

He’s tired, hair messy, unshaven, and those round brown eyes are the saddest things you’ve ever seen.

“I like your hair up.” He says, the words echo off exposed brick walls.

Heart beats pass, ba-bum ba-bum in your ears and you quickly huff and bush melted snow through your hair.

“I’ll get my things out now, if you want.” You say, choosing words carefully, eyes watching the way his avoid you.

“I don’t have any boxes.” He says, fingers brushing satin and lace before he picks the dress back up, puts it in the dust bag and death marches it to you. “You would’ve looked beautiful…you always look beautiful.”

How is it he can be so blissfully unaware? The smartest man you’ve ever known and he’s saying things to break your heart, with no clue that he’s doing it. You take that dress- that beautiful, vintage gown with the hundred fabric buttons running down the back, and lay it over your arm, then rock back on your heels.

“I can grab what I can and come by when you’re at work to get the rest.” You offer, wishing he’d say all the things you want him to say, like stay and I’m an idiot and I love you.

Spencer only nods. “Yeah. That works.”

“Okay…” You whisper, then drape the dress over the reading chair in the corner, the one too small for the both of you. You used to curl as small as possible on his lap with your legs over the arm and your head on his shoulder.

Every corner of this place is haunted.

In the closet, you pull the string and the lightbulb burns orange. You grab the two handheld suitcases, the ones you came home to find on the bed one day with Spencer telling you he was taking you to London while your school was on Spring Break.

When you come back out, Spencer’s left the room. There was no way he could watch you pull open the drawers where your things sat beside his.

With a knot in your throat, you fold and place things neatly and keep your cool like the mature adult you are.

That is until you grab the MIT t-shirt you’ve worn in. It’s a light gray color now, the neckline stretched so it only hangs right on you and not Spencer. Holding the ratty shirt you refuse to let him toss, that’s when you decide you don’t want to be a mature adult.

You’re a teenager with a broken heart is what it feels like, the world is ending and your soul has been split in half.

One tear comes, and then another, and one more until your face is soaked with your desperation and mourning. You ball that silly t shirt up at toss it away, and decide those suitcases are insufferable and onto the floor they go.

You stare at them, the clatter they made did nothing for comfort. With a raspy sigh, you sink to your knees to put everything back inside, and your blurry eyes drift to Spencer’s socks that appear in front of you after he hears the bang.

Wordlessly and gentle, he lowers his tall frame to crouch in front of you. The look in his eye is fools gold, it makes you think he’s the Spencer he was before everything.

You look at him, sure you look like a mess but you don’t care. Your chapped lips part and he’s prepared for the scolding, for your temper.

It doesn’t come.

“We were supposed to grow old together.” You sob out. “It was gonna be you and me, Spence, wearing matching outfits when we’re eighty, going to senior discount days at the theater.”

Those are the words that bring him back to reality, and the fall is harsh and he’s mortified that he’s done this to you.

You hiccup for air, pushing his hand away that tries to grab the suitcase. “I was going to walk down the aisle to an instrumental version of Heartbeat by The Fray, it’s unconventional but it’s my favorite song.”

“I know.” He whispers sadly.

“We didn’t make a deposit on that little venue with the pond, they gave our spot away but that’s okay, we were going to figure it out because we always do. We always do, Spencer.”

You’re not even sure you’re making sense but he understands, you could go mute completely and he’d understand because you’re his person, who he’s ruined.

“I know. I know, baby, I know.” He keeps repeating, adjusting to pull you away from the mess and into him.

With no strength left, you have no fuel for the fight. You fall into him, face in his chest as he sits against the bed and hugs you like he’s not seen you in years. It’s what it feels like, he hasn’t had you this close in too long. His fingers press into your skin, the warmth is almost groundbreaking in feeling, makes him unsure of where to hold you because he wants to touch everywhere, all at once. A lifeless frame full of hunger, you can’t move as you feel his caring grip in your hair, his lips to your crown as you can’t seem to get a solid breath in.

“Don’t make me leave you.” You plead, curling into him like a whimpering dog, clutching his chest to make sure there’s still a heart in there that beats for you.

Spencer’s crying now, the familiar feeling of fear in his lungs that don’t want to expand if you’re not around. He drags hair out of your face and presses his forehead to yours.

“I don’t want you to leave. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me.” He says with the emotion of the man before.

And just like that, you waltz right back into each other, you know the steps. Sitting in your fairytale, on the cold hardwood floor, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you both determine this isn’t the end of the greatest love affair they’ve ever seen.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this, in his lap, face red and salty as you stare at your bare left hand, but eventually the tears stop for the both of you. Spencer is the first to speak, he gently shifts, his hand sliding up your arm and shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, as if he’s checking your pulse.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps. “I’m sorry for everything, all of it, every single thing I did and said and ruined. I’m an idiot, angel, and you don’t know how lovely you are.”

Like water to a flame, those words are cooling. The grief and remorse in his tone makes you grab that hand checking your lifeline, and hold it.

“I’m sorry too.” You say. “For everything that went wrong and the fact I couldn’t do anything about it.”

His chest shudders, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “It doesn���t matter, it’s over now.”

You tilt your gaze up to meet his eye. “Is it?”

Bless you and the ground you walk on that he should worship better. Spencer gently runs his finger down your cheek and across your jawline. He nods then. “Yeah, baby, it is.”

[twst-hottest-takes]

When Pomefiore first came out on the JP server a few years ago, I genuinely thought that Neige's cutesiness was just an act and that he was far darker behind closed doors. But, nope. Turns out that Neige is completely "what you see is what you get", and that really threw me off. I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. Other fic writers in this fandom like LeaderPinhead have said that they thought the same thing.

While it's fine that Yana never went in that direction, she never did anything with his character either. He's just a cardboard cutout for Vil to sneer at and literally nothing else. It's so bad that Vil ironically is the better Snow White analog. Vil is similar to her personality wise, being hardworking, adaptable, assertive and at times kind. He has plenty of flaws like being overly domineering, being too blunt and harsh among other things, but that's a good thing. Those negative traits only make him feel like a real person and a modern male version of Snow White. Neige's similarities are limited to only his looks. His backstory makes no sense and comes right out of nowhere. (Seriously, why wasn't he and the dwarves taken in by Child Protective Services, if he was a minor in modern times?) That's such a waste to me. Neige is the antagonist of the Pomefiore arc, so there should be more to him than that.

However, if I wrote this story, I would do just that. Make Vil the one based on Snow White and Neige is based on the Evil Queen, being like Maurice Cole from Black Butler.

While I haven't read Black Butler, from what I heard from one of my friends and after watching a summary video of the Public School Arc, Cole is Redmond's helper (not using the manga's term because it's a slur). He has a cutesy demeanor, coming off as courteous and polite. He is beloved in the school. Behind closed doors, he's the worst, and, in all honesty, is like a modern version of the Evil Queen. He's a vain asshole, who hates hard work, and frequently leaves his duties to those beneath him. He is willing to resort to underhanded methods to get what he wants. When someone does something better than him, he will make sure to knock them down.

Why couldn't Neige be more like that? Don't get me wrong. I don't think Neige should've been a copy and paste of that other character. Hell, I would argue that differentiating them is a good thing. Not only to change things up, but according to that same friend, he's boring and lazily written. Plus, I don't see Neige doing one of Cole's despicable actions being ever greenlit by Disney. But I think giving Neige some of those same traits would be a step in the right direction. That way he would have a personality and be an actual threat to Vil.

I have seen a lot of people say similar things about their expectations for Neige actually.

Thank you for your take.

You've made a very thoughtful entry here, and I will leave it mostly for others to read and respond to because I think this is an interesting conversation to be had.

My own thoughts are short, that I definitely like the idea of Neige being more characterized so that he can be more of, you know, a character, but I never really liked the idea of him being secretly nasty. I feel like there's too much stock in the corruption of innocence and really would like to have a character as straightforward and just nice as Snow White was--though to be fair we do have Kalim already so people might not want another character too similar to him. In any case maybe a fun idea would be Vil being paranoid about Neige like "No one of his celebrity is that nice!" and part of his beef with him is being annoyed by the idea that Neige is just that genuine. TWST fails at making much out of that rivalry though. With Yana's writing history for Black Butler and such I don't blame people for thinking there should have been a darker side here.

[liquorflower]

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 — 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

with a lonely smile, you’re a whore

cw: dub-con, choking, cockwarming, size difference, corruption, power imbalance MDNI

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i wrote this a long time ago. reblogs and feedback are appreciated:3

The smoke doesn't let you see, or is it the fog from the swamp? You can't possibly know, you're barely aware of your surroundings. It's red; the smoke is crimson red - dense and heavy. Something not very common, but there's no way you can tell.

You turn your head everywhere, still confused. The heat and humidity are suffocating your body. The white rags that usually serve as pajamas are in tatters around you, soaked with sweat: from your abdomen to your neck and your breasts are barely covered by them. Goosebumps are present as you don't feel safe and your nipples are marked on the fabric.

You are in what you assume is your bed. You're only sure of it because the floor is still cushioned; but you don't see your husband, who was supposed to be next to you.

It was happening again. But the feeling is different now.

Sukuna appeared as a "friendly" little demon in your life, promising prosperity for you and your spouse; he took advantage of your vulnerability - that desperation you feel, knowing that your spouse hates you; although it was not something he said openly, it was very evident to you.

Each time he came back, always in different ways, but there was a specific pattern - he got bigger with each visit. He liked to laugh in your face as he watched you endure his nightly visits, which went no further than caresses or him simply smiling. No - he's playing with your dreams, reminding you that it's just the beginning.

Before you become aware of it, you would wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little pressure on your neck and when you looked at your naked body you would realize that you have marks on your collarbones. At the time you didn't relate it to Sukuna thinking he was your husband at night when he came in tired.

It is tentative, but you force yourself to believe that you were doing this for him. That you had to endure the presence of the demon or entity to get him and you through it, forgetting the past.

The demon knows what it wants - your heart; your body already belongs to it, but it wants your heart and soul together - that facade of a good and kind woman annoyed it too much. He knows that's not the real you.

You are there. Beautiful. You are more beautiful than any god or goddess that has ever existed or known. So exposed, trembling and trying to analyze what was going on around you - the moment he's been waiting for.

He wants you to tell out of your mouth, that you belong to him. That's the least he deserves.

It approaches, like some kind of amorphous mass, combined with the red smoke. You let out a whimper from the terror that stalks your body and breathe uncontrollably. You feel your throat betray you, you can't swallow saliva properly; in addition, you feel like you're choking, and your diaphragm spasms from the fear you feel.

“Go away.” You barely whisper. You know the effort is futile and that he won't stop until he gets what he wants.

His mocking laughter booms all around you. You are not sure if the place where it is supposed to be is hollow enough to produce an echo. Still, you shudder and sob in terror, trying to retreat further.

Your head moves again in different positions, trying to look for it with your eyes, knowing that at any moment he can change his shape, but your sight becomes cloudy again when you see that among the fog a darker and denser shape forms in a specific point; he finally decided to materialize.

The smile that stands out from the dense dark mass widens as it sees your agitated body trying to pull back. It will break sooner or later and you will no longer be able to move forward to get away from it. It's like a little game - like you're a mouse in a cage. It can approach you and grab you whenever it wants.

You try to escape again, now changing your position and getting on all fours, you try to lift yourself with your hands and run away from there.

As part of his entertainment, black waves stopped you in your tracks, making it impossible to escape or even try. In a small oversight, you slip and return to the initial position you were in before.

You are lying on the floor on your back, with your arms open on the side of your shoulders and with your legs crossed on your side, revealing your semi-naked body; however, it was still covering the important parts and those which the demon needed to explore once the pact was closed. You are not unaware of what is happening, but you do not get up because you feel dazed.

It's a great advantage for him.

You are too exposed and helpless and he can't resist outraging you and making you feel that all this time you were made for him. Haunting you in every dream of yours until you give in to temptation - to accept it; to accept that you have always been his property.

And he just needs to claim it.

Still turned into that formless black mass, he runs through your body; from your feet, as you delay in doing an action. You feel the shiver from your ankles to your hips. It doesn't yet materialize as it should, but you feel the weight of its "body" gripping your shoulders, and therefore, you are no longer able to move properly.

“Let go of me, please.” You groan, wanting to push him off of you, knowing it will do no good. He just keeps laughing derisively, watching you squirm, seeking escape from his grip.

“Why should I? You know this is what you want.” He mockingly persuades of your fragility, analyzing every expression you make, enjoying the position in which he has you.

You feel him nuzzling your neck. Your hands try to push him away from you, desperate; his strength is more than yours and now he holds your wrists, pulling away further to see your tired expression from trying to free yourself.

You can see the red lips distinguished by how fiery they are. A wicked smile, as is that of a demon.

“This is what you want, isn't it? You look so miserable trying to pretend it's not. I can give you all the power you desire and you know it perfectly well. I just need a sign. A small sacrifice in return”

You stop fighting for a moment, you know it's useless to try to struggle with him. You feel his hot breath on your neck, wanting to go lower and lower - but it's not time yet. Your eyes are closed, your breaths are combined with sobs, and your head is thrown back. You swallow hard, trying to find the right words.

"My soul belongs to God, as it always has. And my heart belongs to my husband." You explain in faint whispers, without even looking at his face or looking at whatever it is.

You look pathetic to him and despite that, he wants to dig deeper and see how much more you can take - you're already his anyway. The simple fact that he can get into your dreams as many times as he wants and play with them tells him about how much you want him to fuck you, to make you his, to give you everything you desire.

"Ah, you are so resilient. I wish you would realize that you want this. There's nothing but a miserable life ahead of you if you continue with this way of life" He purses his lips. "Ah... You're so beautiful this way." He worships the sweaty, fearful body in his presence.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you swallow saliva. His warm tongue penetrates your mouth, kissing it and outraging every part of it. It is long, that is the impression and sensation you feel as it passes everywhere, drowning you in your saliva and his tongue, whimpering from lack of air. When he separates from you, he leaves a mess. You are drooling, the saliva left behind when Sukuna separates from you spilling around your lips.

“My body...” you whine in desperation, for it to go away and leave you alone. “I can give you my body... You can take it and possess it whenever you want." You lick your lips and are gasping for some air. “But you'll never have my heart or my soul... Never.” You gasp again, taking another great breath of air.

It mocks you once again and sheds its amorphous mass. You remain dumbfounded and with your eyes closed, not realizing that it has begun to change its shape. You don't realize it because of your fear of him.

He is now a muscular man with pink hair and tattoos on his face. He is dressed in a narrow white robe that covers his entire body, tied with a black ribbon. Two small eyes protrude, just above those that any human being should have.

But he is not a human being.

That's why he has 4 arms coming out of his torso, which seem to come out normally without the tunic he is wearing being affected by it.

You open your eyes, seeing how huge he is. It gets bigger, it seems like it's never going to stop. Now a neutral expression adorns his face, as he looks at you from head to toe.

He is relatively close to you. It looks even more gigantic by the fact that you are still lying on the ground. Now he smiles. You lie on your side, watching as he looks at you curiously. Your body looks so small in comparison to him. It is intimidating.

The feeling of fear and lust - which you don't know where it came from - is felt in your crotch. You remember that you are in your underwear and you feel the exposure and the feeling of shame come over you. You feel like an exhibitionist and close your legs by crossing them. Realizing that, Sukuna corners you again, holding your arms crouching down to where you are. He doesn't say a word and with his other two hands that you barely remember he owns, he grabs your legs, exposing your pussy; but he can't see it because he keeps looking into your eyes.

You try to pull yourself out of his arms, even though you know the effort is futile. He is bigger than you in both length and shape. You are like a toothpick to him, which he can break if he wanted to at that moment.

“Sukuna... Please...” You whisper in his ear.

“Ah... You're too beautiful when you ask for things so desperately.” He lets go of one of your arms, grabbing you by the cheeks, seeing your pretty face screwed up and disoriented. You know you could have hit him, but you can't or don't want to.

He knows you're calmer and puts down your other wrist.

“You're so good...” With his fingers, he tears the fabric covering your tits and undoes them. They bounce as he releases them. You just stand still, letting him do whatever he wants with your body. “Yes... That's it.” He murmurs, as a way of reassuring you - of letting you know he has control over you.

He doesn't consider himself vulgar enough to grab your tits desperately. He wants to enjoy every part of your body and possess it.

With his lower arms, he spreads your legs further apart. With his other hand, he grabs your neck and with the remaining one, he takes your pussy between his fingers. It is big enough to cover it with her. You sob a little when you feel the warm hand playing with your pussylips, moving them in an arc, without touching your clitoris. You feel so sensitive, you want him to touch it. He knows what he's doing.

He sees you swallow saliva and gasp at the touch of his fingers.

“What's the matter, Y/N? Do you want more? You say you don't want this, but tell me? Then why don't you ask me to stop? You feel wetter and that I'm not touching sensitive parts.” You're speechless, you know he's right. He squeezes your neck tighter and you let out a gasp, feeling how his fingers are so close to your clit, which is enough for you to almost cum. And it's Sukuna wasn't going to let you off that easy.

“You like it, don't you, slut?”

You want to deny it, but your body says otherwise. He wants you to look him in the eyes, so with the 2 free fingers of the hand he's holding your neck with, he makes you look him in the face, longing for you to see how he's making you go crazy and making it harder for you to hide it. You arch your back and clench your fists, wanting him to finish quickly so you don't show him you're falling for his game. His big fingers massaging your little pussy gently and slowly makes it hard, you wanted him to pick up the speed.

You just look at him like you are challenging him. All the emotions you feel towards him combine - the hatred, the terror, the lust, feeling him tear at your throat. You didn't want to admit that it felt as good as the little touches to your pussy were ruining you and driving you to ruin.

You moan in his face and close your eyes because you don't want to see his expression while he does it. You feel like you're about to cum. Without him having touched you properly. He realizes that, but you know that's not even close to what he's going to do next.

He removes his hand from your neck and your legs. He finally sees your pussy dripping with your juices while you are still on the floor, still in disbelief that you were about to reach your first orgasm with your breath hitching. Not even your husband can leave you like this.

He loosens his body for a moment and gets rid of the robe that was getting in his way to make the next move, letting it slowly fall all over his shapely body.

God, you realize how gigantic his cock is and it makes you freak out, wondering how you'll fit all that inside you. You want to pull away - it's something you want to do. But you stare at his thick, fluttering, throbbing member, which has been waiting to fuck your swollen pussy.

You swallow as he uses his powers to scissor your legs open and pulls you towards him as if you were a rag doll. Your body just lets go, completely lost, eyes half-closed, floating like smoke from a pipe in the depths of the swamp.

Blue and fuzzy, you are the devil.

He receives with open arms your small body and embraces it between his 4 arms and you look him in the eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck; as if hugging him. He is hungry for you. He grabs your hips with his arms below and you feel the tip of his throbbing cock. You gasp, clinging to his body. You feel intoxicated by his imposing presence. He is too big in every way.

The persuasion is working; you are no longer able to say no to him. The bastard moved his big cock to stroke your entrance.

“Yes... Was it so hard to admit it? You're hungry and not just for power... You want me to penetrate you in every possible way while you have the world at your feet.”

He's moving close to your clit.

"Am I right?" He murmurs as he slowly pushes the tip in.

He is inserting just the tip. You let go of your walls around it, lowering your hands and moaning as he continues to push his cock in as slowly as he can. Now he spreads your legs apart with the hands he previously grabbed your hips with and flips you onto your back. The sudden action causes you to let out a small whimper from the pain.

Your entrance becomes wider as he slowly enters. It's painful, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it makes it feel so good. You're going to lose your mind, it's touching your sweet spot. You bite your lip, close your eyes and tighten your walls around him. You realize his cock is getting bigger when you see how swollen your belly is, watching him make a bulge.

Your legs are completely apart. Sukuna grabs your neck again and squeezes your cheeks.

He doesn't move when he finally introduces everything. It's torturous - you feel him touch that spot. You want him to move, but he does not. He just stays with bated breaths from him, watching the bulge that formed in you and making it bigger and bigger.

You wonder to yourself how he hasn't done it to tear you inside or break you in half. You just know you want him to move in and penetrate you, to tear you apart. It was already simply too much to ask. You squirm and squeeze around him, seeing if that way you can get pleasure.

“You are so desperate. I'm glad you're finally catching on. Just watch how you move on my cock to get some satisfaction, huh? I like having you like this, watching how you're a slut getting your pleasure and how you look like a cute animal trying to get it.”

His throbbing, growing cock is ravaging inside you without him moving properly and he is aware of it. Your walls are keeping him warm and wet, which makes it completely difficult not to try to move inside you. He just likes to admire how his cock sticks out of you.

Now he caresses your clitoris, making the sensation of wanting or even thinking about cumming on it more torturous. You sob and moan, turning into a little panting and whimpering machine. His fat, swollen cock twitches a little, and strokes fiercely down there. He wants to hold back the urge to fuck you but it's utterly difficult.

He puts pressure on your neck, playing with it and your clit in a controlled rhythm. He squeezes your neck tighter and tighter as he sees how you're going to climax, then stops and repeats the process, feeling your tight walls getting tighter around him.

“I offer you, my soul. My whole being is yours, just, please..... Fuck me, fuck me and make me feel like the most selfish, disgusting, powerful person in the world. I want to feel the rage, how my hair falls out and my teeth rot. Make me feel powerful. I beg you.”

That's what he wanted to hear.

[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