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rafesteddy · 6 months ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖: 𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟’ 𝕃𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕪

𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: mutual pining, swearing, drinking, rafe and the reader are intoxicated, oral (male + female receiving), bathroom sex, semi-public sex, spanking, unprotected p in v, pullout method, rough oral, dirty talk, praise wet + messy, cum tasting

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! When you're getting hit on by a loser at your local college bar “boyfriend” Rafe comes in to save the day.

Reader’s POV:

The crowd's roar is deafening as you sit pressed against the glass of the college hockey area. The game had barely begun, but the energy was already electric—hit after hit, shot after shot. Your friend Lexi shouts and claps, pulling you out of your daze as she bangs her wool mittens against the glass.

Rafe Cameron… Your eyes track him as he streams by confidently, his red and black jersey rippling behind him as he skates, dodging the defenseman on his way to the net.

You smile, biting your lip as you look at the man before you. He sat two rows ahead of you in your accounting class, the two of you exchanging no more than two words all year. Still, there’s just something about him that has your heart racing every time you see him.

“You’re staring,” your friend smiles, looking at you from the corner of her eye. She lifts her draft beer to her lips, grinning against the rim before sipping.

“What?” You giggle as you stuff your hands in your pockets. “Am not.” You lie as the warmth of your little crush creeps up your neck, pooling hot in your cheeks.

“Yes, you are, she teases. “And, honestly, I don’t blame you…”

You roll your eyes away, but you can’t get the smile off your face. Rafe skates by the student section, glancing briefly at the glass as he cleans the snow off his stick. The corners of his lips curl into a smile, making your pulse skip, but you quickly shake it off.

I mean, it was a good shift… He had to be happy about that; you explain it away.

After the game wore on, the players moved faster, hits got harder, and the scoreboard stayed locked at an even 2 to 2. You could feel the determination and intensity radiating off him every time he hit the ice; you couldn’t take your eyes off him—like you would’ve regardless.

With less than a minute of play, Rafe broke away from the traffic with the puck on his stick. The crowd rose to its feet, getting louder and louder the closer he got until he drew his stick back and fired at the net. The sound of the rubber puck clanged off the pipe, and the crowd went wild when the red light flashed. The buzzer drones, its sound quickly swallowed up in the Goal Song.

You jump to your feet, clapping and cheering with the crowd. Rafe skates toward the middle, grinning as his teammates mob him, but once that celebration breaks apart, he turns to the student section, helmet off, hair wet with sweat, staring directly at you, smiling, sealing the deal with a cheeky wink.

There was no mistaking it… The look, the smile, the wink. It was meant for you and you alone.

“Did you see that?” Your friend screams before you can even fully process what happened.

“I… Uh…” You stammer, looking at her to confirm what you saw before you say anything, knowing full-well she could be asking about the goal and not Rafe.

“Oh, please,” Lexi scoffs teasingly as she shoves you away. “That shit was for you, and you know it.”

The car ride to the bar was filled with music and laughter. You can't help but get lost in your thoughts. Replaying that moment a few times before opening Instagram, fingers hovering over the search bar.

“Just do it,” your friend laughs, watching it all; face twisting slightly as she catches you debating.

“I didn't ask you,” you chide light-heartedly.

“You’re thinkin’ about followin’ him… Just do it,” she challenges you.

“Do you think that he would have followed me if he was interested?” You ask as you look at his handsome profile picture.

You hesitate for another second, looking through a couple of his newer pictures. And just when you’re about to take the plunge, you look up at the little heart in the right-hand corner, seeing a new notification. New follower, Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widen on the screen, and you and your friend gasp in unison. Before you can even think about it further, she clicks the little blue confirm button for you.

“What the hell?” You scold her, slapping her away.

“I’m invested, I’m sorry,” she laughs. “What? Were you gonna say ‘no’?” You shake your head ‘no’ and smile, looking at your new friend, feeling your excitement rise.

The bar downtown is packed with post-game and Saturday night traffic. The music is loud, and the energy is high as students pour in to celebrate the hockey team’s win and the start of winter break. You push through the crowd, making your way up to the bar. You order a few mixed drinks before snapping some pictures.

”Ooh,” Lexi coos. “That one’s perfect.”

You upload the pic of the two of you holding drinks, tagging the bar. It wasn’t entirely intentional—or that’s what you told yourself. If Rafe just happens to see it and shows up? Well, that was just a beautiful coincidence.

The night rages on, drinks flowing, conversations blending into laughter, more friends arriving, turning your little group of two into a full-on party. You start to relax a little more, feeling the liquor course through your system, and then you feel something else as a large hand rests on your lower back.

“Hey, Babe.”

Your eyes widen, and you freeze, hearing a voice you were not expecting nor wanted to hear. You turn slowly, coming face-to-face with Mark, a guy from your accounting class, too. The kind of guy who made you excited about the semester’s end. Unfortunately, he was the type of guy who never took ‘no’ for an answer…

“Hi, Mark,” you mumble, keeping your tone flat and uninterested, knowing that even the slightest bit of kindness would be confused for much more.

“You looking stunning tonight,” he praises as he steps even closer, making you take one step back.

“Thanks,” you sigh.

“You here with anyone?” He asks curiously as he scans the crowd. Your friend looks between the two of you—her judgment of his hidden piss-poorly. The girl was unapologetically Team Rafe all the way, and Mark Lundell is no Rafe Cameron.

“Just my friends,” you say as you swirl your finger around lazily, gesturing to your group gathered around.

“No invite?” He fake pouts and you feel your body recoil when you hear it. Mark seems to notice your disdain, but it doesn't stop him from trying. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in possessively. You rest your hand on his chest, pushing away slightly, but he doesn’t get the hint.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you-”

“No thanks,” you shout over the music, not even curious about what he meant to ask.

He chuckles and scoffs playfully, turning his hat to the back as he moves his face closer. “Hey-Hey, don’t be like that,” he soughs.

You close your eyes, swallowing thickly as he continues to talk, wondering what it’s gonna take to get him to fuck off- “She’s with me,” Rafe’s voice rolls through your mind like a sweet dream.

You turn, breath catching as you see Rafe walking in, just a few feet separating the two of you with his big hands stuffed in his jacket. His sharp gaze locks on Mark, and he gives him a little whistle and a nod, kindly telling him to ‘fuck off.’

Mark scowls, looking down at you and then Rafe. “Cameron?” He asks. The two boys are familiar with each other from the gym locker room—exchanging glances when the baseball boys leave and the hockey boys arrive.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, eliminating the space between you. Your heart stutters at the word, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat, reaching behind you to shove Mark out of the way before taking his “rightful” place at your side.

“Since when?” Mark asks as his expressions shifts.

“Since none of your fuckin’ business, Lundell,” Rafe smiles, his tone calm but firm.

��You know, if you’re not interested, you can just say that,” Mark snaps, recovering from his bruised ego by turning to the bartender, gesturing for a new bottle of Coors. “You don’t need to be a fuckin’ bitch-”

“The fuck was that now?” Rafe smiles, his eyes wide and wild as he separates from you, standing toe-to-toe with him. Mark doesn’t back down, his chest puffed as he looks slightly up at Rafe.

Rafe bites his lips, holding back a laugh, his relaxed demeanor’s somehow more intimidating than any show of aggression.

“Call her a fuckin’ bitch again, and we’re gonna have a problem…”

“Oh, yeah-”

“Honestly, bitch. We already have problems because regardless of who the fuck I am, she told you no… And you kept pushin’,” Rafe hisses, emphasizing the final word with a rough shove.

Mark’s a big guy himself, who doesn’t move too far, but the contact made him flinch, leaving Rafe holding back yet another chuckle.

“Walk away,” Rafe mumbles, his voice low and steady.

Mark’s dark eyes lock on yours. The bartender walks over, resting his beer on the bar top. He takes his out, snagging the bottle off the hardwood before rolling his eyes and sucking his teeth, disappearing into the thick college crowd.

You breathe deeply, letting out the deep breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in, quickly turning your attention to Rafe.

“You okay?” He asks protectively as he twists toward you.

You look up at him, your heart racing, and you nod, “Yeah… Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he shrugs it off. Rafe rests his hand on your lower back, making your heart race, lighting you on fire as he flags down the bartender himself. “You want a drink, princess?”

Before you can overthink it, you rise onto your tippy toes, kissing his cheek. Rafe freezes, a soft, shy smile spreading on his lips, making her feel weak.

“Truly… Thank you,” you whisper. “Do you want a drink? It’s on me,” you assure me, turning your attention to the bartender as she arrives, but you can tell Rafe’s mind is still stuck on the kiss. “Rafe?” You giggle, resting your hand on his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath.

“Uh… Yeah. I’d love that, sweetheart. A Coors. Thanks.”

You order your drink, and Rafe reaches over you, his arms a little longer. He passes the bartender his card instead, starting a tab as you protest, but he just rolls his blue eyes and smiles.

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, easy conversation, and alcohol. Rafe’s charming, funny, and much more than the reserved guy you had seen in class.

You talk about everything—school, hockey, your favorite places in town—and with every passing minute, your little crush blooms into something more. You feel comfortable, like you’ve known each other forever. And to Mark and the rest of the bar, that little boyfriend title he used honestly looked like the real thing.

At some point, the drinks catch up with the both of you. Rafe leans closer, his breath warm against your neck, making you turn into him. The boy quickly pulling you up onto his lap.

“You know…” He says, his words slightly slurred. “I’ve had a big fat crush on you all semester.”

Your eyes widen on his, hands resting on his chest as your mouth falls open in surprise. “You have?” You practically gasp, making him laugh at how happy you look with his admittance.

“Mhmm,” he hums as he wraps his big arms around your waist, moving closer. “You’re so—fuck,” he chuckles as the words get caught on his lips. “You are so fuckin’ pretty.” You laugh and shake your head. “What?” He asks bashfully.

“You, Rafe Cameron, are the prettiest boy I have ever seen-”

“I’m pretty?” He chuckles, lifting his eyebrow as he points to his chest.

“Mhmm…” You giggle.

“Well, shit… Thank you,” he smiles and flutters his lashes playfully.

Just like Mark did, Rafe grabs his hat, twisting it to the back, trying to eliminate the space between the two of you, but unlike the boy before, your tummy only fills with butterflies. Rafe tips his heavy head against your temple, chuckling drunkenly.

“I’ve had a crush on you too,” you admit, and as soon as the last word leaves your lips, he’s wrapping his big arms around you, pressing a rough, wet kiss against your cheek, making you squeal.

“The fuck you have?” He asks as he pulls back fast.

“I’m serious," you giggle as you turn to the side, looking directly into his gorgeous eyes.

Rafe bites his lip, studying yours, his glassy gaze hanging at half-mast. “Well, shit… S’my lucky night. Huh?” He asks.

“Feelin’ pretty lucky myself,” you whisper as the two of you get closer and closer. The air between you feels electric—charged with the buzz of too many drinks and sexual tension. Rafe’s gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, the two of you not realizing how close you’re getting until your lips connect.

The bar around you hums in the distance, and it feels like just the two of you for the moment. It’s uncoordinated—but perfect in its imperfection. Your lips move against his, making heat radiate through your body. Rafe smiles against your lips; you return the same, the pair of you pulling apart, giggling like teenagers caught in the act.

You look at Rafe—that same fire lit his eyes that’s burning in yours. He holds your cheeks in his hands, desperate to kiss him again.

“Should we-”

”We should,” you hum.

“Do that again. Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you giggle. Rafe guides you off the stool, pulling closer, the two of you stumbling slightly, giggling before your lips find each other again.

“We’re kinda drunk,” he whispers against your mouth.

“Is that okay?” You breathe, just hoping he’ll say ‘yes.’

“It’s okay with me. Is it okay with you, princess?” He asks.

“It’s okay-” You pant as your lips crash into his, warm and messy. You let out a soft moan against his lips, hands scratching into the hair at the nape of his neck as his hands roam your body. His grip on you is firm—yet another assurance that he wants you just as bad.

The world spins around you, your head fuzzy from the drinks and your perfect kiss. You break away just enough to grab his hand, tugging him toward the hallway. "Where are we-" Rafe starts, but you cut him short with another kiss, this one hungrier, more insistent.

"The bathroom," you whisper against his lips, feeling him smile again. Rafe draws back, looking both ways before opening the door. The two of you kiss your way inside, pushing back into the first open stall.

Rafe grabs your hips in his big hands, pulling you into him. You can feel his semi-hard cock pressed against his jeans, getting stiffer every second. You let out a breathy sigh against his soft, sweet mouth, Rafe taking the opportunity to slide his tongue inside as his lips move against yours.

He rolls his back against the bathroom wall, making you gasp as his thigh splits your legs. He leans back slightly, guiding you closer, leading you to grind your aching clit on his upper thigh. Rafe smiles against your lips as you take his wordless direction. He moves his hands from his lips to your ass, squeezing as you rock with the tempo of your kiss.

You gasp as you feel his cool hands rest against your tummy, your little breath turning into a deep, needy moan as he cups your laced-covered breasts in his rough hands.

You continue to grind as his lips press roughly against your neck, sucking with a bruising strength as you feel a warmth spread through you, little pangs of pleasure spurring from between your thighs.

You draw back slightly, biting your lip as you ride his leg. Rafe stares back at you, the look in his eyes painting a filthy picture of the two of you doing so much more. Thinking about you riding him just like this, your warm, wet cunt hugging him tight.

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties with each swivel of your hips. You grab his beautiful face, pulling him in for another kiss, hungry for more. “Rafe,” you whisper needily, your name leaving his lips so sweetly, making him moan into your kiss.

“Yeah, pretty?” He rasps, this voice sweet and thick like honey.

“Can I?” You ask shyly, but honestly, it’s why you brought him in here in the first place, desperately wanting your lips wrapped around him and maybe more…

“Can you what, princess?” He drawls before taking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting and tugging, making chills fall down your spine.

“Can I suck your cock?” You ask gently, feeling Rafe let out a breathy laugh like he can’t believe those words are leaving your sweet lips.

“You sure, baby?” He asks as he reaches his hand down, already working on his button.

You move down to your knees, looking at him through your lashes. “M’sure,” you smile. “Very, very sure.”

You grope his clothed cock with one hand, drawing his zipper down with the other before lowering his pants just enough, looking at his dick tented under the cotton, a wet stain of precum gathered on it. You wrap your lips around his tip, wetting Rafe’s boxers, making his breath catch in his muscular chest.

You suck the taste off, quickly pulling down his boxers too. Your eyelashes flutter as you take him in, his tip still weeping precum, long and thick… You release a desperate moan, thinking about what his length would feel like pushing in and out of your wet cunt, wondering if you could take him all.

You stroke him slowly, watching his eyes fall shut, head falling back on the metal partition. Your heart sinks a little, seeing his head sticking out over the top of the stall about four inches; those concerns quickly wave away as you hear a deep groan leave his lips.

Rafe looks down at you again as you hold his throbbing dick in your hand, running your tongue along his length before teasing the tip. Your hand drifts under his t-shirt, fingers working up his cut abs, feeling the little divots under your fingers deepening with each sharp breath he takes.

“Shit,” he pants as you bind your lips around him fully. Rafe wraps his hand around the top of the bathroom door, squeezing tightly as you take him to the back of your throat, bobbing again and again.

Rafe’s head falls back, knocking against the wall, making his eyes double at the loud sound; the man quickly shushing you with a finger up to his pretty lips and a playful smile like you had anything to do with that noise.

You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking, causing him to buck his toned hips, pitching his long cock in your throat. You lift your hand, slipping it through the slight space between his body and jeans, cupping his heavy balls in your hands.

"Fuck, princess," he groans, "I’m gonna cum.” You take your cue, gagging on him, salvia and precum drooling out of the sides of your lips. He bites his lips, stiffening deep moan.

You rest your hands on his thighs— Rafe’s muscles quivering underneath your palms. He cups the back of your head in his hands, tugging you as close as he can get as he cums deep in your throat.

His breath shudders as you draw out the last bits of his pleasure, swallowing it all as he looks down at you in a drunken, lust-ridden daze. Rafe pushes out a sharp breath as you pull off his cock nice and slow, cleaning off your lips with the back of your hand as he helps you off the floor, leading you back to him. You pant into your kiss, your deep breathing competing with his. “That was so fucking good,” he mumbles.

“Mmm… Glad I could make you feel good,” you whisper as you tug up his boxers, trapping his hard cock in the band of it, not wanting to pressure him into more, given you were the one that pulled him in here in the first place. “Should we head out?” You ask, between soft kisses.

“I don’t wanna,” he mumbles. “Do you?”

You giggle against his lips, moving a little closer. “No… I just don’t wanna pressure-“

“Pressure me?” He asks in disbelief, stopping you before you can finish the thought as his big hands cup your cheeks, pulling you into an even deeper kiss. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle lightly.

“You can use me however you’d like, princess,” he whispers. “Told you… It’s my lucky night. I’m feelin’ lucky. I’m gettin’ lucky. This is the best night I’ve had in a very long time,” he mumbles the last three words between tender kisses. ”Let me taste you, sweetheart.”

”Yeah?” You ask softly.

“Fuck, yeah…” He hums as he fingers the button of your jeans. “Let me get you good and wet first, hmm?” He asks as he rolls you against the wall.

Rafe tugs at your pants just like you did, making you gasp, pulling them down just enough to get at your panties. He slips his big fingers into the waist pant, spreading your legs slightly, making you whimper as he runs two big digits through your slick folds.

“Shit, pretty. Fuckin’ soaked f’me already,” he hums against your lips. “Bet you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He pushes his fingers inside you, making you reach for a breath; Rafe curls them, drawing out a moan from your pillowy lips.

“I want that so bad,” you pant as you stare into his sin-darkened eyes as he starts to work even quicker, broad palm smacking against your puffy clit repeatedly, making it that much harder to hold back your sounds of pleasure.

“You want my dick, princess?”

“Mhmm…” You hum needily.

“Think you can wait?” Rafe teases as he twists his hand, making a moan rip from your throat that has you both looking at each other in shock, fighting back a laugh that quickly turns into another whine as his rough thumb circles on top of your clit.

You bite down on your bottom lip, tossing your head back, and just when you think it can get any better, he moves to his knees, flicking his tongue across your clit, making your muscles jump as his fingers continue to dart in and out. Rafe chuckles against your clit, the warmth of his voice making you whimper, toes curling, fingers twisting in his hair.

“Just like that, Rafe… Don’t stop,” you plead as you feel yourself about to lose control completely.

“Cum for me, princess,” he hums against your sex, the vibrations sending you over the edge, leaving your body fluttering around his big fingers, muscles trembling uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop until your body relaxes fully, you fighting for a breath as you slump against the bathroom wall.

“Holy shit,” he practically moans as he rises to his feet again, his handsome face flushed, chin glistening with your arousal. You pull Rafe to your lips, tasting the two of you together, your body feeling like it could float away.

Rafe pushes you into the wall, his cock hard just like it was before—his want for you practically oozing off his skin. “So, should we get out of here?” He teases you with your own words, chuckling against your lips as you giggle against his; Rafe has no intention of leaving unless that’s what you want. You have no intention of leaving either as you tug at his jeans and boxers again. “Need you so fucking bad,” Rafe mutters as he turns you around, grabbing your wrists, guiding your hands on the wall in front of you as you push your ass onto his hard cock.

Rafe’s hands drift underneath your hockey jersey, lifting it slightly as you bend over. “Gonna get you one of my older jerseys when we get home, aight?” He hums, smacking your ass with his big hand.

“You’re takin’ me home?” You ask sweetly.

“Yeah, baby… ‘Course I am,” he drawls as he leans in, pressing his chest against your back, pushing a gentle kiss on your lips as he traces his fat tip through your slit, bumping your clit, making you gasp.

“We doin’ condoms or what, princess?” Rafe questions as he bullies your hole, bottom lip tucking between his teeth, teasing himself with your warm, wet pussy praying you’ll say ‘no.’

“Boyfriend privileges,” you giggle as you look over your shoulder and smile, giving him a little wink.

“Fuck, I love the sound of that, baby-”

You draw in a sharp breath against as Rafe thrusts into you slowly, his fat tip filling you before he presses in inch by inch, finally bottoming you out. His hands rub along your lower back, letting you adjust to his size; your cunt pulling him in just like he imagined, leaving him tossing his head back to the ceiling.

Rafe grabs your hips, grunting about how tight you are as he pulls out to the tip, shoving himself back inside, making you reach behind your back, wrapping your trembling hand around his wrist to steady yourself and keep from crying out.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the bathroom, but you couldn't care less. And neither does Rafe, slapping your ass again, making your pussy tighten around his fat cock as he ruts into you quicker and harder.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, your bottom lip quivering in overstimulation.

“Mpfhh…” He grunts, pounding into your soaked center again and again. “So good, princess… Taking me so fuckin’ good. You gonna cum? Fuckin’ cum for me,” he begs as he pulls you back fast, pistoning his hips, fucking you on his dick as your fingers spiral on your clit.

“Oh—Oh, fuck. Rafe,” you squeal as you cum around his cock. Rafe’s jaw tightens, using his last bit of power to fuck you through your orgasm, and the second he pulls out, you gasp, feeling his climax land hot on your lower back. His cum pools in the dip of your spine, rolling down your warm skin.

Rafe clutches your hips in his hands, taking a deep breath as his throbbing dick resting on your ass. The two of you panting and groaning, coming down from your highs together.

He cleans you off, helping you back into your clothes between soft kisses and sweet nothings. Rafe looks at your sweater, scrubbing off a little bit of cum caught on the fabric, making a joke about how he’s technically on the back of your jersey now, making the two of you laugh way too hard.

Rafe’s hand is warm in yours; his firm yet gentle grip guides you through the packed bar. Laughter and music swell around you, but all you can focus on is Rafe’s touch and his thumb gently brushing against your hand.

The two of you step up to the bar at the same spot where you started your night, standing side-by-side with your knight in shining armor. You glance up at him and smile as he orders you two drinks before closing your tab.

Rafe kiss-swollen lips curl into a small smile as he feels the heat of your gaze out of the corner of his eye. He grabs the check off her hands, scribbling a tip and a total. Rafe sets it down and moves a little closer, stepping chest to chest with you; your back backed up against the bar. His hair is messy from your bathroom romp; slightly mussed, a soft purple mark forming on his neck from your lips, a particularly rough kiss.

Rafe grabs your hand, flipping it over, pen hovering over your palm. You watch as he works: his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, his chicken scratch handwriting tattooing your skin, but the words stop your heart.

Tomorrow night 7 pm Luna Rosa I like you a lot -RC

You blink, rereading it like your brain is playing tricks on you. But then he looks at you—those intense, drunken eyes locked onto yours—and kisses the back of your hand.

“I mean it, princess,” he mumbles softly. “In case you had any doubts.”

You rise on your tippy toes, kissing his cheek again like you did earlier in the night before tucking yourself in his neck. “I really like you too, Rafe,” you whisper.

When you pull away this time, he’s not just stunned silent; he’s ready. Rafe cups your cheeks in his hands again, kissing you deeply, pulling you into his arms, and there is absolutely no doubts. ♥️

#rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron x Reader #rafe one shot 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#kinkmas event .𖥔 ݁ ˖❄️˚. ᵎᵎ #my library ᝰ.ᐟ #hockey!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #college!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

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secretloverfun · 5 months ago

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How to become more addicted to porn and ruin your silly brain 💞

1 - Stop cumming. Full orgasms makes you feel like you 'had enough'. You should never have enough, you need to be kept in the edge.

2 - Stop being picky. Good girls don't choose. Watch every single porn that shows on your feed/timeline/search results.

3 - Stop skipping. The video timeline should not exist for you, you should watch from beginning to end in normal speed and without pauses.

4 - Edge for every single video/image. It doesn't matter it you liked it or not.

5 - Always watch porn when you feel sad. This will make your brain see porn as a method of escapism and it will slowly gets more needy for it.

6 - Any horny thought should lead to watching porn.

7 - Get used to it. Stop watching porn only on your bed or bedroom, watch it as you would to any youtube video.

8 - Expand your fetish list. Start to try slightly different porn categories and gradually develop a wide taste.

9 - Use as much porn plataforms as you can. Video streaming platforms are not the only way to consume porn. Use twitter, tumblr, image folders, etc.

10 - Punish yourself for not watching it. You spend a day without porn? Then the next time you watch you wont be allowed to touch yourself, and so on.

11 - Start to save it. Download the files you most like and watch them everyday.

12 - Lose hope. Stop wondering about recovery, this is for normal people, not dirty sluts.

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angelseraphines · 5 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ body electric ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ suguru niragi x former!lover!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! please note that i do not agree with the choices of niragi and for any fanfictions i write about him, those controversial actions will be omitted!

˚ ༘♡ it was the strangest thing, stepping out of your bedroom and into a world that had ceased to exist. the familiar cadence of life, the hushed creaks of the old family estate, the distant sounds of the city beyond, had been swallowed whole by silence. you called out, expecting an answer, but none came. the lavish halls stretched empty, the doors left ajar as if abandoned in an instant. outside, the streets of tokyo stood frozen in time, emptied of their ceaseless crowds, their neon-lit chaos. no cars idling at intersections, no distant murmur of conversation, no footsteps beyond your own.

˚ ༘♡ for hours, you wandered, a lone figure adrift in a dead city. the absence of life gnawed at your mind, an eerie stillness pressing against your skin. you searched for movement, for any sign that you weren’t the last person left in the world. then, at long last, you found them, a handful of strangers clustered in the remains of a building complex, their faces etched with the same confusion and fear that pained your expression. pitiful consolation burned in your chest, only to be doused by frustration. they knew nothing. no one did.

˚ ༘♡ then came the notification, it read the following, “visa: 3 days remaining.”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you turned to one of the others, demanding to know what it meant. their answer was worse than anything your mind had conjured. you had three days to play. three days to win. fail, or refuse, and your visa would expire. and when that happened, you would die.

˚ ༘♡ it sounded absurd, a nightmare spun from exhaustion and fear. but then the first game began.

˚ ༘♡ a siren wailed through the building, red emergency lights casting the halls in an unnatural glow. a door slammed open. and then he appeared.

˚ ༘♡ a towering figure draped in dark clothing, a horse mask concealing his face, the gleam of a gun heavy in his hands. he did not hesitate. the first shot rang out, cutting through the confusion, splattering blood across the walls. screams shattered the air. chaos erupted, bodies scrambling for cover as the game of tag began, except this wasn’t a game. not really.

˚ ༘♡ you ran. every breath burned, every heartbeat a countdown to death. the masked man moved with terrifying precision, his steps unhurried, methodical. you turned a corner just as another shot rang out through the air, a body hitting the ground behind you. fear coursed through your veins like fire, but survival drove you forward.

˚ ༘♡ in the end, you lived, not by skill, not by strength, but by sheer luck. a young man and a woman, moving like they had done this before, found the safe zone in the final moments. you barely made it, collapsing against the wall, lungs heaving, the taste of fear still thick in your throat. the masked man vanished. the sirens cut off. eerie silence returned.

˚ ༘♡ your phone buzzed again. your visa had been extended.

˚ ༘♡ the next day, you could hardly move. fatigue and shock weighed you down, pinning you to the cold floor of the abandoned building you had taken refuge in. your mind refused to process what had happened, but deep down, you knew. if you didn’t move, if you didn’t act, you wouldn’t survive the next game.

˚ ༘♡ it was pure chance that you ran into them again, the two who had saved you. the young man introduced himself as ryohei arisu, the woman as yuzuha usagi. you thanked them, though words felt meaningless after what you had just endured. when they asked if you wanted to join them, you didn’t hesitate.

˚ ༘♡ arisu mentioned a location called the beach, a rumored sanctuary where players had gathered. a sliver of hope in a city that had become a graveyard.

˚ ༘♡ it took time, careful observation, and calculated risk, but after following a group of players you recognized from the game of tag, you knew you were close, but without warning a devastating blow was delivered to the back of your head and you were entrenched by darkness.

˚ ༘♡ when you woke, your wrists were bound, the scent of lavender incense thick in the air. a lavish room stretched before you, unfamiliar faces standing in the dim light. a man entered, draped in a loose robe, his presence far too casual for the circumstances. he grinned and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture, “i am sure you all have questions, and we have the answers you are searching for.”

˚ ༘♡ the robed man, who introduced himself as the hatter, was the self-proclaimed ruler of the beach. with a charismatic grin, he explained the laws that governed this facade of a sanctuary, his voice smooth, practically hypnotic, as if he had rehearsed it countless times before.

˚ ༘♡ one. all playing cards collected from the games belonged to the beach. they believed that obtaining a full deck would grant them passage back to the original world, though there was no proof, only blind faith and desperation. two. all members were to follow the will of the leader, the hatter himself, and his chosen executive members. their word was law. questioning it was not an option. three. the most sinister of all, betray the beach, and you will be executed without mercy.

˚ ༘♡ his delivery was casual and lighthearted, but the dread of those mandates settled akin to lead in your stomach. there was no room for dissent. you were not being invited, you were being conscripted.

˚ ༘♡ with no choice but to comply, you were ushered away, given a simple command: change into swimsuits. no exceptions. it was a method of control, a way to ensure no weapons could be concealed. but beyond that, it was humiliating. a stripping away of your identity, reducing you to just another body in the beach’s twisted paradise.

˚ ༘♡ you were led into a grand dressing room, its gilded mirrors and velvet benches a stark contrast to the world outside. racks of swimwear lined the walls, bright, revealing, designed for spectacle rather than function. hesitant, you sifted through the options before settling on a pearl-white one-piece with a sweetheart neckline, elegant yet understated. even so, the thought of baring yourself in such a vulnerable space made you uneasy. for a sliver of modesty, you grabbed a sheer cover-up, draping it over your shoulders before stepping out into the heart of the resort.

˚ ༘♡ and what you saw left you speechless.

˚ ༘♡ the beach was alive with indulgence. men and women in vibrant bikinis and neon swim trunks danced freely, their bodies moving under the golden glow of the sun. cocktails sloshed in their hands, music pulsed from unseen speakers, laughter rang out like the city had never vanished. it was surreal, a fever dream of excess set against the backdrop of an abandoned world.

˚ ༘♡ but beneath the revelry, there was something off. something calculated.

˚ ༘♡ as you moved through the crowd, you felt it, the leering gazes of men trailing after you, drinking you in like you were just another prize in this lawless haven. your grip tightened around your cover-up, pulling it closer, shielding yourself as best as you could without drawing attention. searching the crowd, you finally spotted familiar faces, usagi and arisu, standing off to the side, their expressions indistinct.

˚ ༘♡ relief rushed through you as you hurried over. “i thought i’d never be able to find you two.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi glanced up, her eyes taking you in. she wore a navy blue two-piece, a peach zip-up jacket pulled tightly around her frame despite the heat. her voice was low, almost conspiratorial as she muttered, “can you believe they’re making everyone dress like this? it’s humiliating.”

˚ ༘♡ arisu, arms crossed, let out a slow breath, gaze drifting toward the endless stretch of blue sky. “you think what the executives said is true?” his voice was laced with doubt. “that if we gather all the cards, we can go back?”

˚ ༘♡ neither you nor usagi answered. because what was there to say? it was a fool’s hope, a dangling promise intended to keep the beach running, to keep its members playing the games. no one knew if escape was even possible. and something told you that the people in charge of these depraved, debauched games didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ the vivacious laughter and excitement that had consumed the resort mere moments ago began to wane, like a tide pulling back, exposing something far more menacing beneath the surface. you felt it before you saw it, a change in the air, an unspoken tension that rippled through the crowd, silencing the drunken revelry. turning your head, your breath became erratic.

˚ ༘♡ a group of men strode through the party, their presence suffocating, the very energy of the beach seeming to warp around them. at the front of the pack, you recognized him immediately, the man who had taken down the tagger during your first game. his presence had unnerved you then, and it unnerved you now. he moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, his muscled frame tense beneath his tank top, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with indifference. he looked like a member of the yakuza with his shaved head and vicious attitude.

˚ ༘♡ yet, it was the figure behind him that truly sent a chill down your spine. a man dressed in black, his hood drawn up over his head, a long, gleaming blade clutched in his grip. his head was shaved clean, but tattoos inked his stark white skin, crawling down his neck like a web of curses. he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to. his very presence was suffocating, a walking omen of violence.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze steadily drifted to the figure on the left, and your entire body locked up.

˚ ༘♡ no.

˚ ༘♡ your heart lurched, your stomach twisting into knots so tight you felt nauseous. your breath caught in your throat, your knees going weak beneath you. your mind screamed at you that it couldn’t be, that it shouldn’t be. but it was.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, aguni, who is this jerk staring at you?”

˚ ༘♡ the masculine voice with a taunting edge, slashed through the unbearable silence, your gaze landed on him. niragi.

˚ ༘♡ he stood before you, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder, his smirk razor-sharp and laced with cruelty. but your eyes weren’t on the weapon. they weren’t even on the piercings that now lined his eyebrow and tongue, nor the unruly strands of black hair that had grown out since you last saw him.

˚ ༘♡ the same eyes that once held warmth, shyness, devotion. the same eyes that once looked at you like you were his entire world. but now? now they were malicious and dark, devoid of anything kind and compassionate. the cocky bravado was there, the smirk, the teasing edge to his voice. but for a fleeting second, just a fraction of a second, his mask slipped. his expression faltered. he recognized you. he wasn’t expecting this, he wasn’t expecting you.

˚ ༘♡ arisu, beside you, blinked in surprise. “you’re the guy from the game of tag.”

˚ ༘♡ aguni, the man leading the group, barely spared you a glance. instead, his gaze flickered over the three of you, his lips curling in something that wasn’t quite a sneer, wasn’t quite pity. “i see your friend died.” his tone was cold, impersonal. “what a shame. the weak ones survived.”

˚ ༘♡ niragi, however, was no longer looking at arisu or aguni. his full attention was on you. his fingers twitched at his side, his head tilting slightly, like he was trying to piece together if this was real or some bizarre hallucination. then, before you could even think of what to say, he took a step forward, closing the distance between you just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

˚ ༘♡ ”it’s been a while, honey.”

˚ ༘♡ his voice was laced with mockery, with that menacing brutality, but there was something else too, something genuine. a sliver of sincerity buried beneath it all, a trace of something that made your heart ache, remnants of the niragi you once cherished so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ “why are you hanging out with this loser?” niragi seethed, his voice ridden with contempt as his glare locked onto arisu. before arisu could even process the insult, let alone defend himself, niragi swung the end of his rifle into his face with a sickening crack. the impact sent arisu crashing onto the cold, tiled floor, his head snapping back against the hard surface.

˚ ༘♡ blood gushed from his nose and mouth almost instantly, painting the shining white tiles in deep crimson. he barely had a chance to react before niragi loomed over him, lifting his boot and slamming it into his ribs. arisu curled inward, gasping in pain, but niragi wasn’t done. he kicked him again, this time in the head.

˚ ༘♡ usagi let out a panicked cry and dropped to the ground beside arisu, her hands flying up to shield him. “stop! please!” she shouted, desperation cracking her voice. she tried to shove niragi away, but he barely stumbled. without hesitation, he turned and shoved her back with enough force to send her sprawling across the floor.

˚ ༘♡ “what the hell are you doing?” you snapped, horror and disbelief flooding your veins. your mind reeled, unable to make sense of what you were seeing, of the man standing before you. niragi had once been the one suffering under the weight of cruelty, bullied relentlessly until he had nearly been broken. you had been the one to step in, to defend him, to pull him from the insults and beatings of others. and now, here he was, standing in the shoes of the very monsters who had tormented him.

˚ ༘♡ what happened to him?

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, enough! no more!” you yelled out, but he ignored you, lifting his boot again as if he had already decided arisu’s fate.

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t think. you acted. you threw yourself in front of him, your body a barrier between niragi and the bloodied mess of arisu curled up on the floor. usagi was already huddled beside him, shielding him as best as she could. you could see niragi’s rise and fall as adrenaline coursed through his veins, feel his eyes boring into you, but you didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ “what have you become?” you shouted, your voice shaking, your emotions threatening to swallow you whole. “have you lost your mind because of these games? is this who you are now?”

˚ ༘♡ niragi stood motionless, his expression darkening. for a minute, something unreadable glistened in his gaze, something vanishing, something buried beneath layers of cruelty and indifference. then, his lips coiled into a sneer.

˚ ༘♡ “what have i become?” he mocked, his tone laced with amusement. “why are you being so melodramatic?”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you looked past him, at the men standing behind him, watching without saying a word. this was for them. niragi wasn’t just acting out of anger, he was performing, playing the role expected of him, preserving whatever foreboding image he had built here.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply and tilted his head, his smirk growing. “get out of my way, would you?” his voice was almost teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. he reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that once would have made you feel more beloved than any woman in the world. but now? now, it was no different than the most potent of venom.

˚ ༘♡ your grimaced with revulsion, and before he could even register it, you jerked away, stepping back like his touch had burned you. niragi chuckled, shaking his head. “come on, don’t be like that,” he mused. “i promise we’ll have all the time in the world to catch up, after i finish with these two.”

˚ ༘♡ he moved to step around you, his patience wearing thin, but you blocked him again. this time, your stance was firmer, your hands clenching into fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. you could feel your pulse pounding in your throat, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze, unflinching.

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, please.”

˚ ༘♡ his name left your lips softer this time, stripped of the anger, stripped of the disbelief. it was a plea, not simply for arisu’s sake but for his, for the young man you once knew, the one you once loved.

˚ ༘♡ niragi hesitated. for a short while, something in his expression changed. you held his gaze, hoping, praying, that somewhere beneath the layers of cruelty and violence, he still remembered, those late-night phone calls, the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t watching, the warmth of his fingers laced through yours on lazy afternoons at the café. if there was anything left of that niragi, maybe, just maybe, he would stop.

˚ ༘♡ his smirk twitched, his tongue flicking over the silver piercing on his lip. then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he scoffed. “eh, whatever,” he muttered, swinging his rifle back over his shoulder as if nothing had happened. “this is no fun with you whining in my ear.” he turned away without another glance, striding off like he had already forgotten all about you. the rest of the men followed, their presence dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. aguni lingered for a tad longer, his expression obscured and harsh, before he, too, disappeared into his horde of followers.

˚ ༘♡ you stood bewildered, the tension in your body unraveling all at once, leaving only nausea in its wake. the atmosphere still buzzed with energy from the resort party, but it all felt so far away, like a different world entirely. your mind returned to arisu and usagi, they required your help.

˚ ༘♡ you spun on your heel and dropped to your knees beside him. he was still on the floor, barely conscious, his face drained of color, his body limp. usagi knelt beside him, pressing her zip-up jacket against his forehead to slow the bleeding. the fabric was already stained deep red.

˚ ༘♡ panic surged through you. you reached out, brushing arisu’s shoulder tenderly, trying to ground yourself as much as him. “i’ll get help, okay? stay here.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi nodded, her jaw tight, her focus entirely on arisu. you pushed yourself to your feet, your heart hammering as you turned and ran. you didn’t know where you were going. you didn’t even know who you could turn to in a place like this. but you had to hurry. arisu was losing too much blood, his life was in danger, because of niragi.

˚ ༘♡ your mind still couldn’t fully grasp it, the sheer impossibility of what he had become. your sweet and loving boyfriend you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who could smile through savagery, who could beat someone half to death and consider it entertainment.

˚ ༘♡ niragi was gone. whatever had taken his place, you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

a/n: my first alice in borderland fanfiction! if you have any thoughts or requests, please let me know! 🤍

811 notes · View notes

dandysworlds · 1 month ago

Note

how does one make graphics (i need to . improve)

Well, the Princess' methods are very simple! She would be glad to teach you.

A bit long graphic tutorial under cut ^_^ (all art by Iinquint on twitter)

First, we import the frame or mask you will use. You can find these by searching "rentry frame".

Then, we will import our picture and erase any excess outside of the frame.

Then we usually add a chibi, You can do this by finding chibi art and erasing the background.

And now we will add any PNGs to the graphic. We chose circle laces for this.

Now we will duplicate the layer of our chibi.

We then use the Stroke Outer filter to find dots that weren't erased, we will go to the top original later and erase where all the exposed dots are.

After that, we delete the layer & reduplicate it. Then we use stroke outer for a white outline, and then a black one. If the chibi or whatever you are using is white or very light already, feel free to reverse the white & black.

Then we add glow outer (usually around 1-2px)

Continue this process for everything

Save it

And then we will import it into a new canvas through 'import picture' & then use the grayscale.

Now, We do not always use a gradient map. But feel free to try out gradients to see if it looks nice on the graphic. Either of the 2 top sites work.

Find a gradient that looks nice. If none fit your vision, feel free to skip it.

Now, import the new image and then add textures. Play around with blending modes & opacity until it looks right.

Boom! You've made your very own graphic.

Now for animated graphics...

(No visuals) If you'd like one where the small chibi moves, move it to be angle -5, save it, and then angle 5 and save it. (Also adjust angles if the 5 looks weird.)

Import the images into ezgif gif maker and turn on "Don't stack frames" and adjust delay time. (I usually use 80ish)

Animated graphics 2

Import your graphic into capcut. Add a green background or whatever color is not present on your graphic at all. Add the gif you want on the graphic. Adjust for all the images to go on for equal times so it works.

Ezgif > Mp4 to gif > Remove Background > Select hex code of background > "Replace hex with transparency" > Adjust Fuzz > Optimize

And voila, your graphic is completed! Feel free to adjust in ezgif effects if needed.

442 notes · View notes

piplup335 · 2 months ago

Text

1x1x1x1 x (chill) reader!

HELLO, F E L L A S

okay so first of all-

to the anon who requested this I’M SO SORRYYYY I tried to incorporate the calm reader part the most I could but I fear I got carried away too much D: if you want me to redo it just lmk ;-;

also ik 1x4 is genderfluid but idk what pronouns the fella goes by so I used they/them 😭

I tried my best but this might be a bit too ooc since I had to adjust some stuff to suit the story ;-; please leave any feedback in my askbox or in the comments, thanku-

enjoy! :,)

╔══════ ⋯⇋ ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა ⇌⋯ ══════╗

╚══════⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ══════╝

1x1x1x1. Shedletsky's manifestation of pure negativity.

Hatred was all they ever knew. Hatred was what spurred them on to exterminate all the survivors.

That was until you fell victim to the Spectre's sadistic nature. The Spectre wanted a new plaything, one more person it could torture. It was tired of the survivors adapting to the killers' techniques and finding newer and more efficient methods to evade the chilling grasp of death.

Shedletsky had mastered the art of his blade. 007n7 had not only accepted his son's fall, but he used it to spur himself on. The Spectre watched him tell himself on a daily basis that his son, even after being forsaken, would still want his papa to be alive and happy. Guest 1337, despite the Spectre's efforts to hinder him, still managed to fight off the killers and keep everyone else safe. Even Noob kept giving the killers migraines by vanishing into thin air the moment any of the killers tried tracking them down.

The Spectre had enough. It wanted to see the terror and pure fear in the survivors' eyes, not determination and confidence each time they avoided the slash of a blade or the stab of a claw.

So, it kidnapped you. You, a Robloxian oblivious to the terrors going on in that hellhole of a dimension.

Unfortunately, the Spectre failed to do a background check on you.

You grew up in a town that was overridden by hackers. You watched Builder Brothers Pizzeria get burned down on a regular basis. You've seen the image of a certain red child fill the skies before. Sometimes Guest 666 would walk into the library and request to read a book. If he didn't get it, the library would be reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble in fifteen minutes. Most of the libraries in your town ended up banning people from borrowing books so that they'd be able to keep the place up.

When you spawned into the world for the first time, you were frightened. You hated the fact that hackers could just kill you at any given moment. You feared the process of respawning. What if it was painful? What would happen during the process? Would Telamon sigh and shake his head at you in exasperation before sending you back to the spawn? Could you even respawn?

Your questions were answered one fateful day. A trip to Builder Brothers Pizzeria ended with you crawling out the broken glass doors of the establishment, the pizza place burning down behind you yet again. You searched the skies for any sign of hope, anything telling you that everything would be okay.

You were met with c00lkidd's decal painting the sky.

You tried to look back at the establishment, your neck aching as you silently pleaded for someone to help you escape the situation.

No one answered your plea. No one was there to be your saving grace. The last of the pizzeria's walls crumbled behind you, the same red decal flickering to life on the dull brick surface.

You tried to shield your head as a loud bang rang through the area. Something blew up. Flaming debris flew everywhere.

But it was too late. You saw a flash of white as a large piece of metal struck your head. Pain shot through your skull...which soon faded to nothing, as did your consciousness.

When you finally opened your eyes again, you felt...fine. Your final memories repeated over and over again in your head like a vivid nightmare.

But you no longer feared the nightmare. You knew it was over.

And your questions about respawning had finally been answered.

Ever since that day, you no longer feared life or death. You no longer feared the neighbourhood you lived in. A building collapsed? It would be repaired and in working condition by the next day. Your house got burnt down by another hacker? You could just stay over at a friend's house while Roblox sends a team over to fix the damages. Everything would be functional by the next day, and your house would be as good as new. Your stuff got stolen? You had nothing to lose at that point, and everything was easily replaceable.

You were so used to the chaos around you to the point that you treated anything other Robloxians considered "out of the ordinary" as just another regular day.

So when a random rift appeared in your living room one day, you didn't think much of it. You thought it was the work of some new hacker and didn't try to resist as you got sucked into the rift.

You would just respawn back home after dying again, right?

...right?

As soon as you landed, you realised you were in Planet Voss. You liked the place. It was a nice little park for you to do whatever you wanted. Sometimes, you'd go there just to see the little birds chirp and fly around in a beautiful midair dance. You'd watch young Robloxians throw bread towards the pond, and gaze on as a swarm of fish fought for the crumb of bread. Sometimes, a daring fish would jump out of the water just to catch the food in midair.

But you knew that something was off.

For starters, Noli hacked a bunch of Robloxians and used them to absolutely wreck the place. The arch collapsed, the walls were reduced to ruins, and even Roblox himself said that the repairs were expected to take at least two weeks since the team specialised in repairing buildings, not restoring parks.

At least the animals were spared...

But that wasn't your main concern.

Your concern was the fact that it hadn't been a week ever since Planet Voss got destroyed, yet the park looked as good as new.

A chittering noise could be heard nearby. You saw something flying towards you. Something that glowed a toxic neon green.

Before you could run, it sliced you in the stomach. Pain blossomed in your lower abdomen, and you could feel something spread. Something that burned. You could feel the blazing sensation flare to your limbs.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the ground. Someone knew you were here...and it did not have benign intentions.

A blur of white sprinted past you. Shedletsky.

“Wait...Shedletsky? Didn't he go missing a few months back?” You thought to yourself.

There was no time for you to question the current situation, however. A loud clang was heard as Shedletsky's sword struck flesh, eliciting a pained groan from the person behind you.

You turned your head to see what happened. Shedletsky's sword was stained with what seemed like an inky black substance.

"RUN!" Shedletsky yelled, before sprinting off into the distance. But you paid his warning no mind as it fully registered in your head who Shedletsky had protected you from.

An unknown substance trickled down your attacker's pitch-black arm. The faint green glow of their torso drew your eyes to the ribcage visible through their body.

You glanced up at your assailant. The viridian green domino crown that sat atop their head was all it took for you to realise how screwed you were.

1x1x1x1, of all people, stood before you.

Your legs took off by themselves, adrenaline coursing through your entire body. Not even the adrenaline could save you from the lethargy, though. For some reason, you felt way more tired than usual. You just wanted to lie down and take a good rest...regain your stamina and keep running...

...perhaps this was the effect of whatever new realm you were in.

A slash to the back pulled you from your thoughts. You were probably going to die. But you knew you'd respawn, so who cared?

Another slash to the back slowed you down. Yep, you were definitely dead.

A clawed hand grabbed the top of your head and forced you to look at your aggressor. 1x1x1x1's glare seemed rather intimidating to you, but you were used to this sort of thing. After all, a life surrounded by hackers can work wonders on one's mental state.

Their daemonshanks seemed to shift slightly in their grasp as if waiting for their master to finish you off.

All you could do was let out a weak chuckle as 1x1x1x1 drew their arm back, ready to stab the daemonshank through your skull.

"Heh...well, that was a nice first encounter. Looks like it's time to say goodbye, 1x1x1x1. It was nice seeing you."

With your final words uttered, the daemonshank pierced through your skull with a sickening crack.

As your limp body fell to the floor with a soft thud, 1x1x1x1 couldn't help but feel unsatisfied.

1x1x1x1 was a being of negativity. The only way they knew to derive enjoyment was by feeding off the survivors' fear. The look of sheer terror in their eyes never failed to make their day. Their futile struggling was the cherry on top for 1x1x1x1. It allowed them to feel the anxiety radiating from their very souls, which they relished.

You gave them none of that. You just accepted your fate and even told them it was nice seeing them.

1x1x1x1 was a manifestation of hatred. Hatred was all they knew.

But they felt different when they saw you. Your calm demeanour seemed contagious. Even the burning hatred in their heart for Shedletsky calmed down for once.

Hatred was all they knew. Hatred was what they had lived with ever since their creation. And with the introduction of a completely foreign feeling, 1x1x1x1 resorted back to hate.

They hated how you made them feel. They hated the way you smiled at them even when your head was in their hands, only moments away from being filled with poison and crushed like everyone else's.

They hated the way you laughed while they were chasing you. It was like you were having fun, and they despised it. They hated the way you never showed fear or panic even when in the face of danger.

Over time, however, as matches went on and on...the more they chased you...they started to admire you.

1x1x1x1 got used to whatever they felt. They accepted it as a part of their new lifestyle...and with that, their eyes were opened to the world before them.

With you around, they saw things from an entirely new perspective. They were no longer blind to the wonders of life. They saw how survivors helped each other out. They saw the smiles on their faces as the survivors made small talk while working on generators.

For the first time since their creation, 1x1x1x1 felt calm. Gone was the burning hatred in their heart, now replaced by a sense of tranquillity and peace.

And they found themself liking that new development.

You, on the other hand, managed to make small talk with 1x1x1x1 over time. They rarely spoke and often communicated in scratchy hums and groans, but that still made you happy. 1x1x1x1, one of Robloxia's most notorious hackers, had finally relaxed for once.

At some point in time, they even decided to spare all the survivors and go on a short walk around the C00l Carnival with you.

1x1x1x1 found themself liking your presence more and more. Eventually, it developed into a warm feeling in their nonexistent heart that they couldn't comprehend.

It felt torturous to them. Every time they saw you, they felt a fuzzy feeling in their chest. They didn't know why, but they wanted to shower you with affection. They wanted to hold you close and protect you from any of the dangers the world had in store...

Eventually, they caved in. 1x1x1x1 spilt out all the emotions they had been feeling for so long. They spilt it all out to your listening ears.

Only then did 1x1x1x1 find out that what they had been feeling was love.

And if you had to be honest with yourself, you loved the hacker too. You saw them grow as an individual. They were no longer simply a manifestation of one's negativity, but they were an actual person in your eyes. You spent so much time with 1x1x1x1, and you also started to develop feelings for them too.

One thing led to another, and you started dating the hacker. The Spectre somehow found that entertaining and ended up allowing you to visit 1x1x1x1's purgatory every now and then.

All that led to this moment.

You snuggled up to 1x1x1x1 on the couch. Their clothes were slightly stained with blood, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the individual before you.

The dim glow of their torso illuminated the inside of the blanket that the two of you shared.

As you fiddled with the zipper on 1x1x1x1's mouth, they reached a hand up and pulled the zipper open.

"1x1, I'm still surprised you can just...unzip your mouth at any given moment. If someone asks you to zip up your mouth you can take it literally."

1x1x1x1 let out a gravelly chuckle. Their voice was unnaturally deep, but you had long since gotten used to it.

"Yep...still, none of the survivors would have the guts to do it, would they?"

"Probably not, unless it's Shedletsky."

"Don't even get me started on that sword-wielding shitface..."

You buried your face into their shoulder. 1x1x1x1's presence was comforting to you. After all, they were the closest reminder you had of home, with your town’s main gig being the fact that hackers always visited the place for one reason or another. 1x1x1x1 gave you a sense of familiarity.

You were starting to feel sleepy. 1x1x1x1's body heat combined with the blanket made you feel comfy. Your lover's arms were wrapped snugly around you, and you shifted your head to rest against their chest.

"Goodnight, 1x1...I love you."

Right before you drifted to sleep, you felt the rugged metal of 1x1x1x1's mouth brush against the top of your head in a light, tender kiss.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

╔══════ ⋯⇋ ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა ⇌⋯ ══════╗

╚══════⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ══════╝

…okay I’m gonna go cry now because idt I did a good job on this-

as always, I hope you enjoyed!

…

*runs back indoors and cries*

#forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #forsaken x you #1x1x1x1 #forsaken 1x1x1x1 #forsaken 1x4 #1x1x1x1 x reader #roblox forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox x reader #roblox #x reader #homicidalporkchops #marinated seasoned and grilled to perfection!#…am I allowed to cry?

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almostwisegalaxy · 19 days ago

Text

Deep Headcanon: Na Baek-jin as a Boyfrie

Na beak jin x GN!reader

"You taught me that love shouldn't save me. It should just let me be someone new. - Na Baek-jin

..................................................................................

A Tense Romance: The Awakening of Vulnerability

Na Baek-jin doesn't fall in love easily. He sees attachment as an exploitable weakness, a distraction from his objectives. But you are the exception he never anticipated.

You arrived as a quiet counterpoint to his coldness: neither dazzled by his charisma nor frightened by his methods. You answered him without trembling. On that day, you became a mystery greater than all the schemes he orchestrated.

Love, for Baek-jin, is never expressed in simple words. He has never said "I love you." He doesn't know how. But you hear it in:

"You came home late. You should avoid that alley."

"I've changed your access code. It's safer now."

"I looked into that professor who's treating you badly."

He speaks of love as one draws up war plans: coldly, strategically, never saying why he worries.

But you learn to translate.

Heavy Silences, Talkative Glances

Baek-jin is not a man of tender gestures. But when he looks at you, his gaze says what he cannot verbalize. In his eyes, there is an anxious obsession, a love that frightens him.

The rare times he touches you, it's calculated:

He silently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, as if to make sure you're real.

He lets his hand brush yours when no one is looking.

He places a coat over your shoulders, not because you're cold, but because he cannot bear for anything to touch you without his consent.

It is a silent love, yet almost violently intense.

The Forbidden Notebook

One day, you discover a hidden notebook in a locked drawer. It's a journal. Na Baek-jin writes in it what he will never say.

"Today, they smiled at someone else. My stomach tightened. Is this fear?"

"I almost told them I was afraid of losing them. But it would have sounded like a loss of power. So I said: 'Do what you want. It's none of my business.'"

You never speak to him about it. You protect this secret as he protects yours. But sometimes you leave a note between the pages, a silent answer to his inner war.

Love Through Chaos

He draws you into a world of power, manipulation, and contained violence. But he never directly exposes you. He places an invisible barrier between you and what he does. Yet you know. You know his world devours his soul, that he sacrifices his last illusions of goodness.

And sometimes, at night, he breaks. He sits beside you. He says nothing. But his hands tremble. You place your hand on his, and for once, he doesn't pull away.

"I don't know who I would be without what I do. But I know that if you are no longer here, I am nothing."

This is not a declaration. It is a raw plea.

Mending What's Broken

Love with Na Baek-jin isn't about flowers or perfect photos. It's a field of ruins where you choose to plant a flower.

It's the silence in an empty apartment, where he leaves you the key, but never explicit permission. You invite yourself in when he can't take it anymore. You don't ask questions. You let him breathe. You make rice, you open a window.

One day, you fall ill. And unexpectedly, he takes care of you. In an almost mechanical, clumsy, yet clinically precise way. You sense he's never done this before. But he reads, he learns, he makes lists.

"You need to drink every 2 hours. I set alarms. I avoided anti-inflammatories; they interfere with your medication."

You cry. And he doesn't understand why.

The Day He Was Afraid

That day, you disappeared for six hours. Your phone was off. He searched everywhere. He called every contact, every camera, every informant.

When you return, exhausted by a simple dead battery and a traffic jam, he has no words. But he pulls you close, hard, brutally.

"Don't ever do that again. You don't have the right to disappear. You're not just someone in my life. You are my only anchor."

It's the first time he cries. And you say nothing. You just rest your head against his shoulder. And you understand: he let you in. You are in his nervous system now.

Rage and Tenderness: The Living Paradox

Love with Na Baek-jin is brutal and tender. He knows no moderation. When he worries, he shouts. When he's scared, he turns cold. When he loves you, he trembles.

He loves you like one loves on the edge of a void. Like someone who has never known solid ground.

But he learns. With you. Every day. Slowly. In small doses.

He starts sending you messages with a ❤️ that he deletes and re-adds three times before pressing "send." He starts resting his head on your shoulder, in an almost childlike gesture. He learns to fall asleep without fearing abandonment upon waking.

The Seasons' Notebook

One day, you create a tradition: writing him a letter with each change of season. He never replies. But you continue.

One winter day, he hands you a notebook. It contains his replies. All of them.

Spring: "I never thought I could love someone as much as my ambition. You showed me that love doesn't erase strength; it redirects it."

Summer: "I watched you laugh today. I wanted time to stop. For the first time, I wished to live for someone other than myself."

You cry as you read. He pulls you into his arms. And for the first time, he tells you:

"You are the only thing in this world I don't want to control. Just keep."

An Uncertain Future, But Together

Na Baek-jin doesn't believe in tomorrow. He lives by the logic of the present: control, survive, defend.

But sometimes, he watches you sleep, and he dares. He allows himself to dream.

He imagines an apartment where you don't have to hide. A café he would open, far from schemes and fists. A dog. Maybe a child. Normal evenings.

He doesn't believe it yet. But he confesses it to you one evening, whispering against your neck:

"I never thought I'd live to be old. But if I have to... I'd want it to be with you."

And that's what love with Baek-jin is.

It's not clean. It's not easy. But it's true.

It's the kind of love that hurts, that heals, that sometimes destroys, but if it survives, it becomes indestructible.

Because he loves you with all that he is—even what he hates about himself.

And one day, he finally understands that he might deserve to be loved in return.

Not despite all of it.

But because of all of it.

Love as Healing

Na Baek-jin remains a man of contradictions. He controls, he tests, he doubts. But he loves. Intensely. As if you were the last purity he deserves.

He respects you. Not just your body, but your ideas, your freedom, your right to question him. He relearns how to live. He deconstructs what he was taught: that love is weakness, that the world is a power game.

With you, he learns that intimacy is not a danger but a liberation. That saying "I'm tired" doesn't mean "I lose" but "I rest in your arms."

Love, Baek-jin Style

Loving Baek-jin isn't living an ideal romance. It's being loved by someone who knows the taste of blood, but who chooses to lay down his weapons before you.

It's seeing a boy everyone believes invincible wake up with a start at night and whisper: "Are you here?"

It's learning to decipher silence, to read between the lines of a gaze, to understand that a "Be careful" said while looking away means: "Come back alive to me; I wouldn't survive your loss."

It's living a love that doesn't try to be perfect, but chooses to be true.

It's loving a boy who has done terrible things, but who, with you, learns to be gentle without feeling weak.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

°Moments when he says I love you without words

The First Time He Fought for You

It was an alley. You weren't supposed to be there. Not supposed to see what you saw.

They surrounded you — not to truly hurt you, but to test. To hurt him, indirectly.

And when he arrived, he didn't even look at you at first.

He just stood in front of you, back straight, fists clenched.

He didn't yell. He didn't threaten.

He destroyed them. Methodically. Without a word.

And when it was all over, his knuckles bleeding, breathing heavily, he turned to you.

Not to reassure you.

He just whispered:

> "I told you not to linger here."

But his hands were trembling.

And you understood: it wasn't anger. It was fear. A panic-stricken fear of losing you.

The Night He Allowed Himself to Cry

You came to his place unannounced.

You found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathroom door, soaked in sweat and cold water.

He'd been fighting. Again. Not to survive this time — just because he didn't know what else to do to exist.

You didn't ask him any questions.

You sat across from him, knees touching knees.

And there, in the cold light, he lowered his head. He murmured:

> "I don't know how else to be. I've tried. But I always fall back."

> "You don't deserve someone like me."

And without you responding, he cried. Not loud sobs. Silent tears, full of humiliation and love intertwined.

You reached out your hand. He took it. It was the first time.

The Night He Whispered "Stay"

You were ready to leave. Another argument. Too much tension. Too many walls.

You had gotten out of bed, silently, in the dark.

And as you gathered your bag, you heard his voice. Deep, cracked. So human.

> "Stay."

One word. Just one.

Not a plea. Not an apology. A confession.

You stopped.

He sat up, still wrapped in the sheets, hair messy, gaze burning. He didn't move, but his whole body seemed to reach out to you.

> "I don't want you to leave... even if I don't have the words to tell you properly."

> "But if you leave... I know I won't recover from that."

You stayed.

Not because he begged you. But because it was true.

The Day He Had a Nightmare and Sought You Like a Child

He had always slept alone. Even with you beside him, there was a tension in his muscles that never truly left.

But one night, he screamed in his sleep.

A hoarse, deep cry. The kind that seems to well up from childhood, from unspoken traumas.

You woke him. He was sweating, eyes wild, hands clutching the sheet.

He looked at you as if he'd forgotten you truly existed.

And then he reached out.

Not like a lover. Like a ten-year-old boy who doesn't want to sleep alone in the dark anymore.

You came close to him. He hugged you so tightly you gasped for breath.

And in the crook of your neck, he whispered, almost inaudibly:

> "I dreamed you were leaving, and I couldn't catch you."

> "Even my legs wouldn't respond."

The Day He Said "I Love You" Without Saying It

He will never say those words in a classic way.

But one evening, as you watched the rain fall against the windows, he entered the room.

He sat beside you, rested his head on your shoulder, and remained there motionless for long minutes.

Then, as if speaking to the rain:

> "Before you, I never wanted to go home."

> "Now, it's the only place I want to go."

You said nothing. You simply placed your hand on his.

And he kept it there.

The Day He Entrusted You With His Future

It was mundane. A subway station. A moment between two obligations.

You were talking about plans. About the future. Simple dreams: a dog, a car, a normal job.

He smiled. Rare. Almost sad.

And then, without looking at you, he said:

> "Do you think a guy like me can have all that?"

> "Not now. But one day. With you."

And that day, for the first time, he allowed himself to hope.

Not in silence.

Out loud. With you.

The Moment He Defended You... From Yourself

You were devaluing yourself. Again.

You laughed, saying you weren't good enough, that you didn't understand why he stayed.

He froze.

Then he stood up, approached slowly, and looked you straight in the eyes.

> "Don't you ever say that again."

> "You are the only clean thing in my life. And I swear, I will destroy anyone who makes you believe you're worthless—including you."

You felt like crying.

Not because he was yelling. But because it was true. Raw. Protective. Na Baek-jin, in all his rage to love.

And That Silence...

The most intense?

It's not a scene. Not a declaration.

It's that moment, where you're sitting next to each other, saying nothing.

He looks at your hands. You look at the scar on his chin.

And in that silence, you feel everything he will never be able to express.

> That he loves you like a survivor loves the morning light.

> That he's afraid, every day, of losing you.

> And that he's ready to become a new man—not for you.

But because, thanks to you, he discovered he was capable of it.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Conclusion:

Na Baek-jin as a boyfriend is not an easy romance. It's a story of healing, of balance between control and surrender, between strategy and sincerity.

But if you hold on, if you understand his language, if you respect his silences, then you become more than a love for him: you become a refuge. And he will be willing to do anything to protect it.

Na Baek-jin never learned to love. But with you, he creates a new code. A love that is at once raw, honest, and indestructible.

..................................................................................

Other weak hero class fanfictions here

Yeah. My man (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr @emswirls

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blackcupidangel · 1 year ago

Note

Not a request! I like to imagine Joker lowkey being scared of Bat mom when she's on a mission to save the batkids from him.

Oh without a doubt. As most men with a complex…Joker thought he was being smart. He is the definition of insanity, doing something over and over again testing, searching, analyzing for a different outcome. An outcome where Batmom will lose or fail…

Now I will give him some credit Joker is methodical, and the way he banks it all on the kids missing a minuscule detail, causing them injuries, dividing them and conquering them, just to get them to this point. His grand finale all thanks to crazy intelligence and a mix of dumb luck.

And just when he thinks he’s got her exactly where he wants her, in the darkness there’s a calculated call. (Like that scene where Neytiri calls to her kids) He can’t pinpoint it, that was his first sign. And when he looks over and see how the kids get extremely calm and straighten up….oh bless his heart. He would soon find out that the signal not only meant that she was there, but Batman was NOT with her.

“Demon…I will kill you as many times as I have too.”

Let’s just say he knew not to test that outcome about her again.

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milkbobatyun · 8 months ago

Text

an eye for an eye

pairing: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

genre: angst

summary: the two of you were always bitter enemies, ever since you were young. but feelings change over time, and you made the greatest sacrifice because of it.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i have finally gotten around to editing and now posting the pt 2 of save your tears!! to the people who were requesting this, i hope this is up to your expectations ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა

you remembered now.

your rivalry started when the two of you were fresh-faced students, attending the ranzhi school in hopes of becoming the top healer.

jiaoqiu and you had opposing views, often clashing in heated debates in class. the two of you were like fire and water, fighting tooth and nail to rip the position of no. 1 on the exam billboard from each other. every exam, the title of no. 1 bounced between the two of you.

you detested jiaoqiu’s sly smirk, his teasing voice every time he scored higher or was praised by the teacher. every self-satisfied smile made your fists clench, nails digging into your skin. his proud mannerisms made you want to both punch his face in and bash your head against a wall.

yet what you hated the most was how his sly remarks made your heart dance in its cage, tomato red saturating the tips of your ears when you made eye contact.

jiaoqiu hated your quiet presence, how his eyes would search for you every time he entered a room. your arrogant presence ruffled his fur. your quiet, studious presence made his fur prickle with irritation. whenever the teacher affirmed your comment and you sent an arrogant smirk in his direction, jiaoqiu wanted to claw his own eyes out.

what jiaoqiu despised the most was how his heart would speed up every time he saw you, ears pricking up with interest when he heard your voice.

every class was a battle, the other students only watching in silent mortification as you and jiaoqiu battled with medical terms and theories, words clashing like swords, relentless and unstoppable, each seeking to deliver the final blow.

the climax of your rivalry was during a class discussion, when the teacher posed the hypothetical question–what was the best treatment for someone who had drunk tumbleweed poison?

a hand shot up in the air.

“an eye for an eye. find a willing participant to donate their eyes.” you spoke, confidence and certainty clear in your voice.

the teacher’s remark is cut off by a hand slamming into the table.

“ridiculous. who has ever heard of such a thing?” jiaoqiu jumped up, fur bristling in every direction, ears flattened in anger and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “who would ever want to sacrifice their own sight for someone else? i say that medicine to slow down the poison and its effects is the best method, there is no known cure for tumbleweed poisoning.”

as expected, the debate between the two of you lasts long, the sun’s pale yellow rays deepen into a warm golden, sun sliding further down the horizon, before the bell tinkles in the distance, signifying the end of the class.

it was ironic, that was the last debate that you had with jiaoqiu before your graduation. after, you both went your separate ways. sometimes, you found yourself missing the cunning foxian, with his smiling eyes that held something more.

jiaoqiu often found himself wondering what you were up to, his thoughts drifting to you when he drank a tea you had once mentioned to your friends. he missed your arrogant presence, with the quiet studious nature drawing all his attention every time he entered a room.

he habitually visited your herb store, tail and ears twitching with amusement as he pushed your buttons. he could see the vein throbbing in your neck, how you would clench your hands on the tabletop, a forced polite smile carved onto your face. a similarly sly grin was reflected on jiaoqiu’s.

when the war broke out, you sometimes wondered if jiaoqiu would be safe, after all, he was the healer for the merlin’s claw, the frontlines was his second home.

while he treated feixiao, jiaoqiu often found his thoughts wandering to you. would you have used a different herb to treat her? or would you have used a completely different method? he found himself almost missing the heated debates and the thrill it gave him, his heart beating faster, tail swishing in excitement.

the sound of the door opening awakens jiaoqiu.

sunlight warmed his body, as he lay in his bed, resting, according to the doctor’s orders.

though his sight had been stolen by the poison, he knows where everything is, the memories and layout etched into his brain.

“jiaoqiu,” feixiao called from the doorway. the mentioned foxian’s ears swivel atop his head, turning his face in the direction he hoped feixiao was standing. “i’ve brought someone to help you regain your sight. we’ll come in now.”

two sets of footsteps pattered across the wooden floors, before stopping at the side of the bed.

“so,” jiaoqiu begins. “who is this mysterious doctor who can cure me?”

“we started on the wrong foot before, jiaoqiu,” your voice floated through the air. “but i believe i can heal you.” you spoke quietly, voice wavering with nervousness.

though jiaoqiu couldn’t see, your eyes were flitting around the room, desperate to focus on anything but the foxian in front of you. your fingers were busy, picking at the bandage wrapped around your hand, from when the shard of porcelain sliced into your hand.

despite his sight being taken away, jiaoqiu’s ears could still recognise the voice of his rival during his student days and the person who he had rudely thrown the teacup at. his body stiffened, tail swishing in agitation and anxiety.

he suddenly recalled that he never apologised for his previous outburst. guilt flashed across his face, though he was quick to quash it down. his eyebrows furrowed, fists gripping the blanket underneath his hand.

jiaoqiu could imagine you, standing next to feixiao, proud and arrogant, like how you were in your youth. now, you had more reason to gloat. you had the upper hand in this moment.

the silence fell heavily between the three of you, feixiao’s brows knitted together, her sharp eyes noticed how you silently winced next to her, face turning more guilty than you were before you walked closer to jiaoqiu.

“feixiao, if you’ve come to taunt me with false hope, bringing along the person i least want to see, you can leave.” jiaoqiu’s voice cuts through the silence, definate in his decision.

you take a hesitant step forwards, stretching out a hand, worry and despair that jiaoqiu can’t see reflecting all on your face.

“stay away from me.” jiaoqiu growls, baring his teeth in your direction. “have you come to mock me again? to rub it in my face that i can’t be the top healer anymore?” spite and hate drip from his voice, like poison.

no, that's not what he meant. he was supposed to apologise, but this, sharp words that only served to harm people, came more naturally, especially with you.

you flinch, snatching your hand back, trying to stop the trembling in your hands. your hands tightened its grasp on your medicine box, knuckles turning white.

feixiao sighed, exasperated at the childish nature of her healer.

“jiaoqiu,” she spoke firmly. “if you want to be able to heal me in the future, then you need your sight back. i know you had history with [name], in fact, i heard about what happened last time, but they’re the only one right now who has a shred of hope in saving your sight.”

hearing feixiao’s reasoning, the fight left jiaoqiu’s body like a deflating balloon.

with an annoyed exhalation, jiaoqiu could only obediently nod his head in agreement.

settling your medicine box onto the mahogany bedside table, you began unpacking your instruments, while explaining the procedure to jiaoqiu and feixiao.

“i’m sure you remember, jiaoqiu, the proposed theory i had about how to treat tumbleweed poison.”

“an eye for an eye.” jiaoqiu echoed, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as he remembered the memory.

“indeed.” you affirmed, nodding your head.

with a shaky breath in, you picked up the right instruments, beginning the procedure.

when jiaoqiu awoke, the weak morning rays filtered through the window, shining upon his blankets. jiaoqiu marvelled at the success of your operation, drinking in the sights of his familiar abode. he glanced around. the traces of feixiao’s presence were clear, an empty chair pulled up beside his bed, her coat thrown over a chair and her weapon propped up against the wall.

slipping out of bed, jiaoqiu exited his bedroom, expecting to see you at any moment, ready to gloat to him about your genius and how you were better than him in medicinal skill.

yet the house was oddly silent, no life present, the only sound the soft patter of his slippered feet hitting the wooden floor.

confused on where the guests were, he made his way outside, the spray of the sea air sprinkling against his skin.

he saw the back of your figure, whispering something close to feixiao’s ear. the roar of the waves drowned out your voices, not even jiaoqiu’s sensitive ears could pick up what you were muttering.

feixiao noticed jiaoqiu’s lurking presence, glancing at him with surprise and a hint of worry in her eyes. with a curt final message, feixiao left the two of you, throwing a departing glare of warning at jiaoqiu.

pausing by jiaoqiu’s shoulder, feixiao muttered to him a word of warning.

“be mindful of what you say to [name] and be gentle with your words.” feixiao hissed.

jiaoqiu dismissed her words with a shrug of his shoulders, annoyance present on his face. he was the patient, so why was feixiao being so nice to the healer?

with purpose in his step, jiaoqiu stalked towards you.

the tap tap of footsteps drawing closer behind you alerted you to a presence behind you, a simple deduction telling you it was most likely jiaoqiu.

“so,” jiaoqiu’s silky tone broke through the din. “how do you feel, o mighty healer?”

his voice dropped with mockery, a sly smile cruelly curving his mouth.

“i feel the same.” your curt voice was indifferent, not turning to look at jiaoqiu.

his fur bristled in annoyance. the fight in your voice, always present when you talked to him, was gone and it unnerved him.

“which unfortunate individual did you scam, to trade their eyesight for mine?” jiaoqiu pressed on, hoping for some sort of reaction from you. anger, glee, smugness, it mattered not to him, your lack of emotion put him on edge.

silence.

“i’m talking to you.” jiaoqiu growled. “at least look at me.”

only the splash waves answered his question.

jiaoqiu marched towards you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder and turning you around to face him.

almost in slow motion, you turned, the white bandages falling away from your face.

the howl of the wind fell silent, the whole world holding its breath. jiaoqiu’s breath caught in his throat, his thoughts scattering like startled birds, words faltering on his tongue. a numbing shock swept over him, rendering him frozen.

jiaoqiu’s sharp eyes met yours. they were once so full of life and fire, now clouded over with milky white, sight stolen. his heart dropped in his chest, all the mockery and sarcasm ripped out of him.

the final remanants of arrogance melted from his tone, leaving only disbelief and pity. his ears flattened against his head, as he stared at the bandages.

“you–” jiaoqiu’s voice cracked. “why?” he breathed. “why give your eyes away? to me, of all people?”

your lips twisted into a wry smile. “love makes people do stupid things, jiaoqiu.” you whispered, sadness saturating your voice. where tears used to form, beads of scarlet began to pool, threatening to spill over.

jiaoqiu’s sharp tongue, always ready to retort, was rendered useless, staring helplessly at the person in front of him, pale eyes gazing somewhere beyond him, a once fierce rival, reduced to a broken and selfless person.

jiaoqiu’s throat tightened, reaching out his hand, hovering near your shoulder. an overwhelming sorrow ate away in his chest, guilt gnawing at his insides.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice flooding with confusion and hurt.

you laughed, a hollow sound, laced with upset. “you wouldn’t have let me, if you had known.”

jiaoqiu’s ears flattened in shame, his lips pressed into a thin line. he knew, he would’ve argued with you, hell, even fought with you if he could see. but now, it was too late.

“you know, i never really hated you,” your voice broke through the silence, bloody tears trailing down your cheeks. “no, wait, i did, at the start, i really did hate you, with a burning passion.” you let out another sorrowful laugh. “but somewhere along the line, the hate, it turned to love.”

jiaoqiu’s breath caught, all those years of rivalry, it was something more, something simmering beneath the surface, just out of reach, something neither of you wanted to admit.

he wanted to say something, do anything, reach out and wipe your tears, perhaps, but his words and his body weren’t listening, he was frozen. his hand still suspended in mid-air. the weight of everything left unsaid hung between the two of you.

“i’m sorry,” he finally exhaled, voice raw with emotion, regret, barely audible in the wind. “maybe one day, if you wish, no, if you could ever forgive me, would you still give me a chance?”

deep down, he knew, it would be a long time, but he would wait for you, no matter how long.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

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avelera · 3 months ago

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(Arcane Meta) "Why do you persist?" And the Character Flaw of Viktor's Tendency Towards Non-Confrontation

After writing this post I had something of a brainwave about a character flaw of Viktor's that had previously never occurred to me before. Namely, that of his habit of simply removing himself from moments of disagreement or confrontations, rather than sticking around to fight harder for his causes or negotiating to reach a compromise.

I've spoken elsewhere about how Viktor comes across as fairly flaw-free after Season 1, so one thing I found really interesting about getting his full arc in S2 is that we can begin to see his character flaws brought into focus.

And I should clarify, a literary character flaw is not the same thing as a real life character flaw. A literary character flaw is when there is something about the character that stands in the way of them achieving their goal in the story. For example, being clumsy is not a "character flaw" in a real person, it's simply a trait of neutral moral value, but it could be a character flaw in a story about a person who wants to become a ballerina, something they need to work to overcome.

So, I would and have argued that these are a few of Viktor's character flaws, personality traits of his that get in the way of him achieving his character's goals in Arcane:

Political disinterest: despite the fact that Viktor has a stated goal of helping the undercity, he never looks to other methods for improving life down there outside his personal skillset of science. Even when his close partner, Jayce, becomes a Councilor, able to enact political change with a wave of his hand, Viktor is dismissive of this avenue as a waste of time even though he is proven wrong in this assessment by the Zaun independence vote (at least, until outside forces like Jinx's rocket interfere).

Self-isolation: Viktor is plagued by loneliness that appears to be so painful to him that it eventually sets him on his villain path. However, he is also surrounded by people who care for him, especially Jayce and Sky who are literally willing to risk their lives for him. But Viktor seems either unaware of their affection in Sky's case or actively pushing it away in Jayce's case. He's not actually alone, he just thinks he's alone because of his habit of self-isolation when he is focused on his work or (very reasonably) stressed about things like his imminent mortality. This is also a flaw when it comes to his goals as a scientist, because Viktor pushes away potential collaborators. He's not aware of Sky's research towards his goal of improving lives in the undercity until after she dies. He's so skittish about Jayce potentially shutting down his research into the Hexcore and by extension saving his own life that he doesn't bring in his best scientific partner in on the work when Jayce could probably accelerate or even solve the problems Viktor is facing if he knew about them. Heck, he doesn't even tell Jayce he's dying but still shows resentment towards Jayce not spending time with him or helping him in the lab!

Single-mindedness/Intractability: It's Viktor's way or the highway. He doesn't compromise, or negotiate, in order to advance his own goals. This is in some ways a virtue, he refuses to bow in the face of pressure to turn his creation into a weapon, which is laudable. However, as stated above, he also has blinders on when it comes to other methods for achieving his stated goals, like improving lives in the undercity. Viktor sets his mind on a course of action and cannot be swayed by any argument. If he sees a confrontation he can't win, that brings us to the final flaw I wanted to address in this essay:

Non-confrontation: Viktor does not fight for his beliefs or persist in searching for a solution in partnership with others, even Jayce. This isn't to say he never engages in argument. He states his position, but like many intellectuals, he seems to believe that simply stating his position is enough and then he refuses to budge. If he doesn't get his way after a certain amount of time, he shows his displeasure by removing himself from the situation entirely rather than looking for common ground or alternate paths.

I want to reiterate, these are character flaws for a fictional character. In a real life person, I wouldn't think of this as necessarily a flaw at all. Viktor's stance could even be a virtue in a real person, an unwillingness to bend the pressures of the world, and the maturity to not get involved in ugly fights but instead simply step away from a situation he no longer wishes to be a part of.

It is a mature and intellectual response but, when it comes to the problems Viktor faces in Arcane, it is a symptom of his pacifism that actively gets in the way of him achieving his stated goals.

Viktor doesn't fight again Hextech weapons. He simply states his disapproval and then removes himself from the debate, leaving the decision entirely in Jayce's hands.

Viktor doesn't fight Heimerdinger for the removal of safeguards or defend his research into the Hexcore. Once again, he makes his argument and then seems to wilt in the face of doing anything more than that. Jayce ends up fighting that fight in his place but even worse, Viktor doesn't seem to know about or acknowledge that Jayce fights this battle on his behalf, which in turn contributes to Viktor's sense of isolation and not having anyone in his corner, even though Jayce just overthrew the government for him.

Viktor is noted to frequently disappear for long stretches of time, without letting Jayce know where he went. Which is entirely his right as a real person, but given his character's patterns of behavior, it does heavily imply that he's hiding something, perhaps his failing health, from his partner. We know he actively avoids telling Jayce about the full extent of his health issues, given his own lack of surprise at his own prognosis when he collapses and Jayce's utter shock.

Viktor also avoids the spotlight and doesn't partake in the public aspects of promoting Hextech or even seem all that eager to put his name on things he created however, he also notes with despair that no one will remember him after he is gone. This one has always puzzled me a bit, I suppose he wants his inventions to be so groundbreaking they speak for themselves, but he not only makes no effort to attach his name to their work in Hextech, he actively refuses to go on stage even as a silent partner to Jayce to present himself as the co-creator of Hextech. This to me is another symptom of his habit of avoidance: he simply wants people to find their own way to his view, in this case acknowledging his work, without making any effort to persuade or even present himself to them.

But finally, and most salient to the point I'd like to make: Viktor after emerging from the Hex-goop making his greatest avoidance of all by removing himself from his partnership with Jayce, having decided that they have passed the breaking point of their partnership and have no choice but to go their separate ways.

The thing is, from a Doylist angle, this moment is necessary for furthering the plot. I actually think it's a rather clumsy beat in retrospect for how visible the hand of the author is in making it happen, because Jayce doesn't, for example, stop a naked Viktor from departing, which would be a reasonable thing to do under the circumstances when Viktor is clearly in shock, nor does Jayce offer to go with him, which feels particularly out of character given how unhinged Jayce is and his own wedding-vow like promises of devotion only moments before, offering to give up everything he's been working on to be by Viktor's side.

I suppose shock could explain it on both sides, or that Jayce just wanted to go back to how things were, not forge a new path, but regardless, the outcome is that Viktor once again removes himself from a situation he's decided is untenable, rather than asking for, say, some guarantees from Jayce that he is sincere, or negotiating for some concessions from Jayce, or even delivering an ultimatum for what Jayce needs to do to stay by his side.

I suppose you could argue that Hextech weapons was the line, and Viktor is so uncompromising that once it's crossed, that line cannot be uncrossed in his mind, even in the face of Jayce's regrets and desire to make it right by whatever path Viktor sets for him, perhaps reasonable given Jayce has ignored other requests by Viktor up to this point, like not destroying the Hexcore. But this all gets thrown aside when later, Viktor invites Jayce to the commune (if we even believe that's Viktor and not the Hexcore, as I've argued elsewhere, it's all a bit muddy and we can guess at many reasons Viktor left that day, one of which might have been to protect Jayce from the Hexcore and himself).

I bring up the question of how much the Hexcore is controlling Viktor being an active question, because I'm going to undermine my own point here for a moment. I'm arguing that Viktor tends to state his position and then retreat from any sort of compromise or negotiation with other parties, removing himself rather than yielding if he doesn't get his way, but he does persist in trying to make contact with Jayce during his villain arc. I'd argue that insofar as it is Viktor at all, the Hexcore's modifications have given him the confidence for the first time to fight for Jayce, and despite Jayce killing Salo, shooting Viktor, and destroying his robot self, Viktor as the Machine Herald is still pleased to see Jayce (what a simp) and does still seem to want Jayce to come to his way of viewing things. Arguably for the first time, Viktor is persistent in an argument or debate, but he still refuses to budge in what the outcome will be. He wants to persuade Jayce, but he doesn't want to change his position or consider Jayce's side of things at all, maybe because the Hexcore is in control, or maybe because Viktor has always approached academic debates in this way: by refusing to listen to the other side or change his position.

Ok, so this brings me, F I N A L L Y to the point I've been wanting to make:

"Why do you persist, after everything I've done?"

^^ Viktor's genuine confusion about Jayce's persistence.

I think his confusion is, as we've seen if you made it this far, very much in line with his character and this is what I just realized. Viktor doesn't understand why Jayce keeps trying to confront Viktor even though apparently they have opposing views. If Jayce isn't going to come around to Viktor's way of doing things, why are they still even engaging in a confrontation? Why doesn't Jayce just remove himself, the way Viktor would?

In his villain arc, Viktor is more persistent, but he's not more willing to negotiate. If anything, being a villain just gives Viktor the power to not need to avoid people who don't come around to his way of thinking, but to actively, forcefully change their minds against their will. Not by persuasion, or diplomacy, or sophistry. Not by making an argument. But simply like many engineers he thinks that his solution is best and the data will miraculously speak for itself and there's something inherently wrong with people who don't agree with his view.

Machine Herald Viktor firmly believes he's in the right, his mind cannot be changed, it's never been changed in the past (except by Jayce, by the way, when he made the argument for Hextech that seduced Viktor into being his partner in the first place. Once again, Jayce is the exception) so why does Jayce keep fighting?

And I think I'm correct in identifying Viktor's intractability, his unwillingness to accept any view but his own as correct or to hear opposing arguments, as a character flaw because it does get addressed by the end of the story and we see him recognize this and change. He sees Jayce was right, the path he was on was evil, it was going to lead to widespread destruction, not salvation. Viktor sets out to make it right. And once again, he tries to go it alone, without inviting his partner in on the process, and here too we see a flaw addressed: Viktor finally lets Jayce in. He lets Jayce help him and he doesn't run from the difference of positions, or self-isolate in the face of someone who cares for him, or try to solve the problem alone, secure in his incorrect belief that he must do everything alone.

It's a brief scene, but finally at the end, we address these deep character flaws Viktor has been carrying throughout the story of Arcane, and only then can he at least achieve his goal of destroying the Hexcore, with Jayce.

#arcane #arcane meta #viktor arcane #jayvik

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pricegotmedickmatized · 19 days ago

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basically copy/pasted from my dms with the wife @gothghostiie but i've just been thinking about it some more so have it: price and gaz are the two who really actually talk during sex, the other two can't. like physically can not

gaz gets you in bed (against the wall/the couch/the changing room door) and suddenly the man can not shut up to save his life. every horny thought he's ever had is coming out of his mouth, pure stream of consciousness, even when his face is pressed tight against your cunt as he eats you out his still fucking talking, knowing the vibrations of his voice just get you off hotter. he's greedy with it, trying to prove a point, lots of 'you know no one else could ever make you feel this fucking good, just me, only me baby' in between his rambling fantasies about you'd look tied up in his bed while he put a vibrator on your clit and forced you to cum over and over again

price is more methodical about it, more precise. he's taken the time to analyze you, every hidden corner of your head and what makes you wet so that he doesn't even have to ask you what you'd like to hear - he can just give it to you unprompted. the man will whip out the filthiest things you've ever heard in your life, stuff that would make even a porn star blush bright red, and he'll say it rough and mean against your ear while he pounds your pussy into the next century. he's not rushing, he can just fuck you like that until he thinks you've cum enough for one night. it usually takes a long, long time before he thinks he's properly wrecked you and treated you for one night and he can take his own reward and breed you full of his cum, and he's not shy about letting you know that intent, about letting you know any of it because he's been talking you through it the entire time

soap is the one who you would think would be the biggest talker of them all. because up until he's actually got you on your back/knees/stomach/etc he is the biggest yapper of them all. and don't get it twisted, he's definitely the loudest of all of them, but it's not from talking. once he's the one getting pleasure (a hand, a mouth, a hole, anything) he can't finish a single thought. he devolves into mindless instinct and brutal thrusts of his hips and greedy searching hands, sentences that are bitten off by load moans, broken praise and calls of your name as he whines and whimpers and groans through his orgasm (after making you cum first like the true gentleman he is)

simon, simon, simon. poor rizzless bitchless simon. look, i know what we'd all like to think, but the man doesn't want to (can't) talk to people he's attracted to even stone cold sober much less when he's pussy drunk out of his mind the way he always is when he so much as senses you get slightly turned on by thinking about him or by staring at him from across the room. he can't even think in full sentences when he's inside you, much less speak any. all that comes out are some soft gasps and shocked moans, and always, always bite marks and bruises littered over your body to convey what he can't speak: that he may not have much but he has you and you are his utterly and completely

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sky-forts-and-burning-citadels · 5 months ago

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A devotee shan't rest until they've worshipped their deity for a lifetime.

Summary: Sol gets sick of waiting.

Warnings: Non-con, straight up porn, religious references, photograph abuse.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: This is straight up somnophilia AKA es'SA'y. Don't let this be normalised.

P.S.: Also reposted from the AO3, check it out! All the longer works are there.

The room was pitch black, so heavily ensnared in the gaping shade of the darkened night that even shadows disappeared under its tarlike veil. Any ordinary, random burglar would be blindly stumbling about like an idiot, if they happened upon your apartment with…impure intentions.

Sol wasn’t a burglar, and he was definitely not ordinary. He wasn’t a mindless passerby on the streets, with a forgettable face and unassuming nature. Sure, he acted the part well, played the weak-minded shy kid well. But that act, that mask? It’s for the faces that litter his vision, that plague his sight and try to distract him from his goal, his mission, his messiah.

Faces that exist as a way to try and deter him from his forever, from his life and his bride, from his venerant Annabel Lee.

You.

He’s saving his true, adaptable, self for you. He’s willing to morph into anyone for you, alter himself, hurt himself if you so merely asked!

You could ask him to kill for you and he wouldn’t even blink until said soul was eviscerated; and their body exsanguinated and dumped in an outskirt lake.

He was the only one for you, your only soulmate, your only lover, your only.

So why did you always neglect him? Ignore him; spend time with him as a last resort, all in favour of that insignificant bastard-born slug?!

What did he have that Sol didn’t? Hmm?

The queries began to flood his mind, onslaught his body. He barked out a laugh, a cold, brisk sound that reverberated across the walls, before cruelly biting the skin of his knuckles.

Hush, can’t have you wake up now darling, not when you’re so serene and at ease.

He didn’t want to do anything bad to you, of course not, he loves you…! But even the best of lovers need to be taught a lesson…or seven.

Boots softly thud against your floor, their path marked by years of memory and intuition, and like normal, he makes his way to your bedside.

Sol might not be able to see you, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows how you sleep, he remembers the precise dosage of medication he needs to do this…he’s all set…

Yet the longer he stands there, the more time ticks by him, gently ageing you both second by second closer to a fated death, he was struck by an epiphany:

Why the fuck should he settle for this? He’s been in the darkness long enough.

The kid at the back.

The afterthought.

The forgotten face of the world.

If Jericho Ichabod gets to see you…then so shall fucking he.

In a bout of ornery, he ditched his boots and marched into the lightless expanse of your lounge. He knew you had a torch hidden somewhere, might as well finally make use of it.

Like he will of you.

Most people would’ve already ditched or aimlessly clambered around; but Sol wasn’t most people. He knew your residence inside out, all of them.Each place, grandiose or minimalistic, apartment or house. No matter where you go, he’s always watching, tonight’s just a little more…intimate, a touch closer than his usual escapades.

His hand softly searched the drawers, each soft click sent a thrilling chill down his spine, his body shuddered as he tactfully manoeuvred his way about the room. His fingers casually map each surface, fondling for anything remotely cylindrical…until, after what felt like millenia, he finds it. How lucky.

A lava lamp. Bright enough to see you, dim enough to not awaken you; and look at that…it’s red, like his eyes, like his lips…like his cock.

Were you thinking of me, beloved?

With methodical steps, silent as the grave, he strode back to you, placed the lamp in the closet door…and by God’s holy grail was he once more rendered stunned.

The soft crimson rays paint your frame in a way he prayed to one day replicate, with his own blood, perhaps? Paint wouldn’t be enough to perfectly capture your divine essence.

Your lips look so fucking good.

He wanted to have you so damn badly it hurt.

And he would’ve…until something crossed his peripherals.

A small photo, about the size of his palm, lay tucked away on your bedside drawer.

To say Sol was intrigued by this was an understatement, and his bubbling wonder continued to froth as he took in the details of this quaint square and halted.

All intrigue turned to rage, white and hot like his flesh and it pelted his mind like hail on an abandoned car; before an idea, comical as it was repulsive, crept into the depraved depths of his mind.

What better way to avenge himself than make the whore see? See how much better he is, both in appearance and in bed?

A lifeless grin moulded into his face, Sol positioned the photo to ensure it stared right at him; The slug isn’t worthy of seeing the pretty things you’ll do; he thought.

He bored his eyes into ones of disgusting cobalt, before turning down to the grandest feast of his life.

Slender fingers, corpse-like in colour, caressed your face, measuring once more the map that is your body, his eyes hungrily raking over your sleeping form.

Against his better judgement, he lowers his head and drags his tongue, languid and unhurried, across your neck, his teeth softly rubbing across your zen pulse.

He swiftly rose up, his face burning and his breaths stuttering; all the while his cock — like the night before, and the one before that — began to fucking ache, straining horribly against his pants, almost begging to be allowed freedom from its constant confines.

The urge to tear off your clothes and piston himself so deep inside you that your body would refuse any other dick was so tempting. The mere thought made a small wet spot appear, yet Sol would take his time, after all, this was merely you making up for teasing him, right?

Fuck it.

In one swift motion, he’s at your side, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his hand casually dived under your shirt, worming its way towards the mounds that lay atop your angelic heart; but you couldn’t possibly blame him, they’re so malleable and beautiful; just like you!

He inhaled sharply, before closing his eyes and stifling a pathetic whimper.

You smell so fucking good.

His whole body was like a bomb, ticking away until either his time runs out and he leaves to care for himself elsewhere, or until he allows himself to… indulge.

If Ichabod got to revel in your presence, then so shall he.

“Mhh??”

Shit.

He froze, his body arched over you, his hoodie half off, exposing his burnt abdomen, carmine circles and purple dots peppering him like seasoning.

Ahh…you told me I was beautiful in your eyes once…but I won’t risk you rejecting me from these, darling.

Another reason why he loved you oh-so much. You’re so pristine, so pure, so perfect that it stung. He didn’t deserve you, he wasn’t remotely close to reaching the bar of whom someone like you should have; but he didn’t care anymore. You were here, beneath him.

And he was going to have you if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Soon enough, his mouth returned to your pulse, suckling on the throbbing flesh and his teeth cautiously caging the arteries, until a mark — angry red like the burns that paint his skin — started to blossom.

His hand inched up your breast, the pads of his chilled fingers encircled your areolas, the nips hardened and prodded at him, begging to be pleasurably satiated — and satiate he inevitably would.

He swiftly moved to straddling you, this time in entirety, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on your torso. When you’re lying so prettily before him it was almost too easy to forget how much bigger than you he was, how small and dainty and delicate you were compared to him.

Using his other hand to lift your nightshirt to your collarbones, Sol redirected himself fully to your breasts, his teeth grazing over the buds before rapidly digging them into the warm fat, his nails clawing at your sides like they were pencils upon a blank canvas and the artist had the eureka of a lifetime.

His face felt torrid, his whole body felt like it’d been set ablaze and he’d barely started.

Look at what you’ve turned me into, but I’m not complaining, how can I?

Sol suddenly wished he was a snake, so he could coil around your body forever, his fangs lodged in either your neck or tits, while his tip would remain buried so deeply within you that you’d forget what it meant to move normally.

But hey, he could still do one of those things. The drugs are significantly stronger this time.

As if to test the waters, he delicately shifted your blouse off of you, tossing it somewhere else on the bed whilst he — perverted as he knew he was — admired your figure, his hands mellowly brushing your arms and kneading your curves, wanting to ingrain this image of you for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. How are you so pretty?”

His cock was shrieking now, hell, he was struggling to contain himself. But he could hold off a little longer, right?

No. No I can’t.

His hands weren’t even his anymore, by the time he’d ceased gazing at you, his belt was being yanked out and he was aggressively tugging his pants down, a sharp slap! bouncing off the walls as his dick emerged from its confines, dribbles of translucent white steadily seeped out the shroomy head.

He inched closer to you, deciding to fully ditch his clothes as he tenderly brought your hands into his. He covered them each in kisses, suckled on your fingertips, before guiding them towards his throbbing crotch, your fingers tightly clutched onto it; it’s like you’ve wanted this as much as him!

Shit. Fuck. Fuck you’re so pretty.

Blanketing your fingers with his longer ones, Sol slowly pumped himself into your palm, his whole body almost falling on top of you with how violently he shook at the sheer magnitude of carnal pleasure that coursed through his veins.

A pitiful whine emitted from his tongue as he commenced vigorously propelling himself into your hand, the drastic change in speed and temperament making the sensations nearly overwhelming.

It forced him to hold his weight up over you; like his arm was a pillar to a divine shrine, one that he deems you more than worthy of. But he supposed this is the best way to be close to a god, to worship a god.

Shit, I love you. I love you so much, you don’t know how crazed I get when it comes to you.

Sol turned to the small picture of Ichabod, before looking respectlessly at the view under him, and smirked.

From his nigh-omniscience when it comes to you, Sol knows you’ve never had sex, and he’d be damned if your first would be Crowe.

He continued to piston himself into your palm, contemplating whether he should move on…elsewhere, while he could.

Your hands weren’t gonna be enough, he wanted Ichabod to see him fucking you, making love to you; you didn’t have to be conscious, you’d still love him either way.

Sol relished in the thought, as his thrusts grew erratic and variable, his abs clenching and his arms locking in as he prepared to release, to paint his magnum opus — to paint you white with his cum.

I love you, I love you so much, I want you so much, you’re everything to me IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

He moaned, gripped your hand and placed a messy kiss to your lips, using his other appendage to pump faster and faster, until his body physically stuttered into it — until his whole being shattered, and a fountain of his sperm splattered onto your skin, leaving your body glistening under the vermillion light of the lamp.

But Sol wasn’t done this time, for how could he be? He had to make sure nobody got to you before he did.

He kissed you again, his tongue diving into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern, his hand — the one that formerly served as a buttress — coming down to the band of your shorts, his fingers gently prying them down with your panties, and judging by its appearance, it was one of the few he hadn’t touched — how cute. It’s like you wanted him to gather every garment that’s pressed against your core, that felt your slick as you touched yourself.

Gah, the thought of your fingers buried inside you, toying with your clit, playing with your tits.

Anything you do arouses him, but the thought, oh fuck him, the thought of you using yourself whilst thinking of him — like he about you — makes him feral.

Without even thinking, he plunged two digits into your pussy, silently (s)creaming at how smoothly they entered.

Your body knows it’s mine, hahah! Fuck…you’re hot.

Pressing a thumb to your clit and his other hand over your mouth, Sol feels himself going sexdrunk, watching in slick satisfaction the squelches and pretty little Os your hole made around him, trying to crush his bones and slurp them into its warmth, as if it wanted him there forever. Not that he mind, he’d curl up inside you and live as your sentient sex toy if he had his way.

He sighs, his cock turning a brutal shade of red as his eyes observe the beauty that lay within how well cocooned he is inside you, and that’s with his fingers!

Repositioning your wrists so that he could comfortably hold them in one of his own, he redirects his attention to your pussy, thrusting with vehement pleasure into your depths, feeling your wet rapture on his skin, and his pace only increases; like fire on drywood.

The flames of his lust for you, the burning pyre of his love for you, it wasn’t enough in his eyes to see you so shortly each night. It shouldn’t be normal for him, he wanted to take you, to have and hold and love and worship and admire and caress you each day and night, for all his life until both of your ephemeral existences fell by the threads and you both lie in a shared sepulchre next to the sea.

He goes faster, his thumb circling the fleshy nub with affection, a small whimper stirring from your lips.

“Mh…C-crowe?”

Sol ceases, ears alert, eyes widened as he realised whose name you uttered.

Hah. Hahahahah. That motherfucker.

He was gonna go nice and soft on you, gonna be loving to you; but clearly, clearly you needed a little…reminder, of whose thick, fat, juicy cock was inside you.

Removing his sticky fingers, Sol tore apart your thighs, his nails etched so callously in your flesh he barely registered the groan that slipped past your mouth.

Crowe huh? My gorgeous darling, you’re so beautiful but you should know you can’t say such vile things.

He moved his cock with a tenderness towards your gaping entrance, the head brushing against your labia, a waterfall of gasps tumbling out of his mouth as the contact — evasive yet so direct — sent rushes of cold adrenaline down his spine, making him arch himself into you, searching for the closeness he’d wanted for so long.

Cupping your hand in his, he forced himself deep inside you, an onslaught of euphoria surging past any potential despondencies he might’ve had and he slammed his lips onto yours, the slapping of skin and the popping of each entry and exit his cock made out of you left him dazed in the sensual chorus of a symphony built upon ecstasy.

Even in all the times Sol’s touched himself to you, fucked himself into your undergarments or clothes, he’s never thought how immaculately well you fit around him, as if you were the warm, tight nut to his aching, etched bolt.

He was in pain, a beloved pain that came only from first love and lust, his heart screaming as he kissed your lips again and again, squeezing the life out of your hands as he muttered an obsessive, possessive manta:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He spent so many years waiting in eager anticipation for you to be his — to feel this sick love that he felt for you — like he was yours, and now, now he had you, claimed you. He wished Crowe was here so he could spit down his stupid throat. The idea felt tempting, maybe Hyugo could help him one more time.

But that’s for later, he’s with you now, and nothing is more invaluable to Solivan Brugmansia than you.

He couldn’t cease his gratifying motions, his suppressed moans, or the blitzes of unfiltered joy that rained down his face as he cried; fell apart both bodily and soulfully. His lips fell to your neck again and he marked you, tainted your priceless flesh with his teeth, contaging you with the plague that long since infested his mind.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his body was boiling as he stuttered out a hushed whimper:

Shit, I love you, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I love you so much-

And with a sharp bite to your shoulder, a callous bracelet of bruises to your wrists, and blood seeping from your swollen lips, Sol came deep within your heat — oceans of his desire-fueled suspension tumbling about inside you, painting you in white, his dove-white passion. For you.

Only you.

Yet as the waves of his lust left him spent and empty, he rose his sweating body above your form, tears running down his pallid face, and cupped your cheek.

He knew he should clean you up before he loses himself once more, but whilst he remained buried within you — his kingdom, filled with the seas of his undying adoration, he turned to the photo of Jericho Ichabod, yanked it off the shelf — and tore it to shreds.

#tkatb #tkatb sol #solivan brugmansia #sol brugmansia #tkatb x reader #tkatb smut

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study-diaries · 3 months ago

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How To Self Study

This is coming from a girl who spent her fresher and sophomore year studying at home and yes, I got good grades. So, here are some tips that I followed for studying by myself without depending on any teachers.

So, let's get into it!

Gather and organise material

This is important, why? What are you going to study if you have absolutely no idea what your syllabus and study material is? By materials I mean:

Textbooks (If you have any)

Practice papers

Previous year papers

Extra reading materials/ Reference books

If you don't have any textbooks. Go through the topics that you have and gather resources from different sources.

Tip: Have at least 1 extra reading material for every subject/paper. It helps you understand some topics that are explained in a complex manner in textbooks which is almost all the time.

Don't depend on your teacher

Teachers are good. Seriously. But their attention will always be shifty. They have a lot of students to teach, from many other classes so if you depend only on your teachers for clarifying your doubts or being at the back of you to study then newsflash, its going to be hard. Rather, be your own teacher. Don't go "I'll ask this to her/him tomorrow after class" because that will be your answer every time you have even a small question which can easily be solved by a simple search. You're saving your time and theirs.

Tip: If you're someone like me who gets distracted when you take up your phone even for a second then write down all your questions in a paper and search them later after your study session.

Make notes

I usually say this because notes help you understand topics. There are many methods of taking notes. I usually don't follow any structure for note taking, I just read and write keywords under the topic name, linking a few things here and there.

Tip: Notes need not be aesthetic. Seriously. You can be as messy as you can.

Watch videos related to concepts

This helps and I know most already do this.

Tip: When you finish watching a topic, close the video and write down what you understood and then play the video again, fill in the gaps that you missed and watch it again.

Study in chunks

I always believe that whatever you do, you should do in chunks. Instead of doing one chapter, divide it. Into small bits. I'll tell you, you'll see the difference. I don't usually recommend Pomodoro since it doesn't work for me. I don't keep a time limit or a set number of breaks. I finish a chunk and if I am tired, I take a break otherwise i continue.

Tip: Self quiz yourself after each chunk and then take a break. Then after you finish the chunks for the whole chapter with the self quizzing then self quiz yourself randomly for every chunk. Here's an additional tip. Take 20 second breaks.

Period of deep work

This is not a new concept, i didn't realize i did this at first. Basically, when you start your work. You do nothing but work. Like nothing else. No phones. No snacking. No unwanted thoughts. Just nothing but what you have to do. That is to study.

Tip: It is difficult to implement this right away especially if you have a habit of it getting distracted easily so i just suggest => Start smaller. One topic with full concentration. It would usually take you 20 - 30 mins to get immersed in the work. 40 mins if it's something you don't like but once you get the momentum? An unbelievable achievement really. And then, change your environment.

Quality > Quantity && Consistency> Cramming

One hour of productive studying is better than nine hours of useless studying. I feel like it's better to study 20 mins everyday rather than the whole night before an exam. It just causes stress.

Tip: Start early. Your teacher is on chapter 5? And you still don't get chapter 1, it's fine. Start learning. Seriously, it's okay to be behind. You just have to stick. Do it everyday and you'll see results that is better than those who are just keeping up with the teacher.

Deadlines Are Mandatory

Have deadlines. There are a number of ways to do this. I'm a person who is really lazy and a weird soul who would never complete their to-do list for the day if they write it down. It would always be left unfinished. So i just keep a mental time limit and the thing i have to get done.

Tip: Overestimate your deadline. Like, let's say i have to complete around 15 lessons that week. I keep my deadline to around 25-30 and i eventually complete 15. It's about adapting to what works for you. Just change according to what works for you.

Practice questions / Previous Year Papers

I can never emphasize this enough. The best way to prepare for any exam is just do practice questions or previous year questions. You will learn a lot of things. The topics that are important or repeated. The topics that are never asked.

Tip: Grade yourself on each paper. Circle the questions in your textbook while you are studying and practicing. Then when you have to actually study then you can actually revise the topics a bit more thoroughly. If you want to know more, click here.

It's okay to be behind in class

During my first term in senior year, the whole class was around 5 chapters ahead for every test and exam while me? If they were on chapter 12, i was in chapter 4 or 5 but i understood the concepts and took my sweet time with each chapter. Because the more time you take for a chapter, the better it stays in your memory.

Tip: Here is where active recall comes handy. When you revise one chapter, take a 2 day break and study another subject and then go back to the chapter and answer the practice questions. If you're able to do them, great! If not, revise more and then look at it after 3-4 days. Repeat until you have no mistakes in your answers. This helps in long term retaining.

Make It Interesting

How do you study boring subjects? You adapt. Mind maps don't work for me. Neither does flash cards. So, i found something that did. Storytelling. Take your most boring subject, turn it into a story. Make it bearable.

Tip: Tie it somethings that you like. For example, business studies was the most boring one for me so obviously, every topic was a story for me. HR Theories and Processes? ==> An office romance story. Management Principles? ==> A fantasy story where a group goes on a quest. Make It interesting. Make it gripping. And let me tell you, this actually works because our minds grasp stories better than just normal theory jargon.

Difficult Topics Are Only Difficult Because You Think They Are

This was something that i learnt the harder way. Everything looked difficult at the beginning. Everything. But the most difficult paper was maths. Because i had no teacher. Literally. I was learning from YouTube, searching different sites for tips and tricks. I thought it was too difficult and then i was like "i have to do it anyway no matter how much i brood" so i started from scratch like 3 months before my exams.

Tip: A mind set change is everything. If you think it is easy. The topic will be more bearable. If you think it's tough, it's going to be more tough. If you want some more tips for complex topics, click here.

Hope this helps !!! :)

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