#Transform Your Ride with Transformer Stickers

[seeyouonsaturn]

Just walked past this very handsome man on my way home and um??? Excuse me sir???? Are you single?????

[lrithill]

PASSENGER SEAT PRINCESS

Greetings to all the clowns of the second circle!

It is both my honor and my pleasure to offer you this new installment. This might just be the fanfic I've had the most fun writing, the one that made me the wettest, and the one that broke me the hardest… and the best part? It’s a REQUEST!!!

Wow… I truly have the best readers, because this idea never crossed my mind—AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY. So, huge thanks to @partycityshowgirlfreak for trusting me and handing me this story like a loaded gun.

This is also a warning—a warning that any request you send me might be transformed into a full-blown work of art, because I don’t let go of a story until I’ve squeezed every last drop out of it… every last drop of blood and cum HAHAHA.

Also, a special thanks to @artstomfoolery, my primary gif dealer😂 . I could spend hours searching through Tumblr for that one specific gif—and it’s just NOT THERE, impossible to find. But then she swoops in and BAM, like magic—as fast as Art grabs the salt and bleach—, she sends me exactly what I need. Seriously, if you haven’t already, go check out her blog and follow her. She makes insane edits and videos, and her talent is the kind I can only dream of (we need to make a fic trailer one day 🤫 HAHAHA).

Now that the thank-yous are done… let’s get to the good stuff.

🖤Synopsis:

You and Art, after a night of unhinged slaughter, need an escape route before daylight hits. You need a car—but cars come with drivers, don’t they?

🚨 Warnings:

Unintentional voyeurism, humiliation, violence, and my general hatred for warnings because I feel like they’re spoilers… So let’s just say: A lot of sex, a lot cruelty, a lot of fun and a lot of blood, and all of it Art-style, which means a guaranteed thrill . Woohoo!

📊 Word count:

10,000 words (there were simply too many things for Art to play with)

You needed a car.

Urgently.

The sun was barely grazing the horizon, the night still reeked of gunpowder and scorched flesh, you were dragging a decent body count behind you—and it wouldn’t take long for the cops to start sniffing around.

In the distance—shining like a promise—stood the best place to find a ride: A gas station.

Bingo.

It wasn’t even 7 a.m.—the place was deserted, wrapped in that artificial silence and half-dead lighting. Still, odds were some idiot working the night shift was fueling up before heading back to their miserable little life.

Jackpot.

Next to one of the pumps, a big family car stretched lazily under the flickering yellow lights. A “Baby on Board” sticker decorated the trunk, along with some doodles that screamed “big happy family.”

The kind of car that smells like routine, bedtime prayers, and Thursday dinners with the in-laws.

You glance at Art—he’s already locked onto the target. Judgment has been passed.

You’re both soaked in blood. His clown suit isn’t black and white anymore—it’s black and red. A crimson trail stains the pavement behind you as you approach like wolves—soundless and certain.

You need the keys.

And there he is—your ticket. The driver, still inside the car, gently bobbing his shoulders to some soft blues tune—something mellow and catchy, the perfect soundtrack for a crime at dawn—utterly unaware of the evil creeping up on him.

Art looks at you, eyes gleaming—he gives you a light shove, lips curled in that twisted grin of his.

“Put on that pretty sad face of yours,” his mischievous look says—cruel.

You smile… you already know what to do.

CRACK.

You collapse right in front of the driver’s window, like a horror movie final girl—dried blood on your legs, torn clothes, perfectly timed gasps...

“Help… please…” you whimper. “I had an accident… I think my leg’s broken…”

The driver sees you—and freezes. His blood runs cold, his heart skips a beat—his face shifts, tightens, switches into action mode.

“Jesus! Hang in there!” he shouts, flinging the door open to help you.

You laugh on the inside. These idiots see a damsel in distress and immediately think they’re the hero of the story—they have no idea what kind of menace they’re dealing with...

You writhe on the ground—groaning, panting—, clutching your leg like it’s about to fall off in pieces.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he says, pulling out his phone with trembling fingers.

He fumbles through his apps. Can’t find the dial pad—his pulse is betraying him.

And you already see Art approaching from the side—a shadow with teeth. But then, an idea slithers into your mind—a wicked one—so you shoot Art a look that says: ‘Not yet.’

“Wait,” you murmur.

He pauses, confused.

“I can’t see anything… can you turn on your flashlight for a second? I want to see the face of my hero before I pass out…” you whisper, sweet and soft like honey.

The guy blinks, visibly shaken, might even be smiling a little—and obeys. So well-mannered.

The flashlight clicks on—a white beam cuts across his face. He looks up, searching for your angelic face… but what he finds is something else entirely.

Nothing he could’ve prepared for: First, eyes—unblinking, wide, inhuman. Then the smile—two rows of jagged teeth, bloodstained and hungry. And then, hands like claws, snapping around his throat with the precision of a bear trap.

“Shame… I’ve always preferred villains,” you purr, lips pouting as you watch him choke.

You sit up slowly, unbothered, watching as Art strangles the man—his hands working with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. The poor bastard kicks a little, but he doesn’t stand a chance—Art knocks him out in seconds.

Silence.

Only the soft murmur of blues music hums from the speakers—a cheerful little tune playing as the man slips out of consciousness.

Art fishes the keys from his pocket—there’s a keychain that reads “Cool Dad”—then grabs his phone, still buzzing with incoming messages.

“Perfect, darling. Let’s leave him here, we’ve got our ride home,” you say, letting out a satisfied sigh.

But Art doesn’t move. He’s somewhere else—lost in thought.

He leans into his bag and… is that duct tape?

You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh… I get it”

You wanted a getaway.

Art… wants a guest.

“Looks like he won’t be walking out of this… don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him” you giggle, and Art’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning.

—

RAAAHH.

Duct tape.

Hands bound behind the back.

Mouth sealed shut.

Knees tight together.

Ankles locked.

Torso disabled.

The only things left working: Eyes and ears—and you want them wide open.

Art—ever the gentleman—opens the passenger door for you with a theatrical bow. He slides into the driver’s seat, adjusting his blood-soaked suit like he owns the car. Grinning from ear to ear—so smug, so sure of himself—he checks his reflection in the mirror—the most illegal thing he’s done today? Being this fucking hot.

In the back seat, your new companion is starting to wake up. He stirs clumsily—bangs his head against the window—, trying to make noise, desperate to catch someone’s eye, to call out to a world that hasn’t woken up yet.

Art laughs—a sharp slap lands on his own thigh—, delighted by the uselessness of his struggle. He even has the courtesy to turn the music up—that dirty, sultry blues swallows the thuds and grunts, turning them into part of the rhythm.

The man stares—that stare: panic, defenseless, confusion. He has no idea how this happened, or why, or what’s about to happen to him. But he’s starting to understand that he’s trapped in a play he never auditioned for—and the two maniacs in front are the directors.

Art feels those eyes on the back of his head; and without turning around, he calmly adjusts the rearview mirror—until his gaze locks with the hostage’s.

And he winks—his tongue sliding over his teeth, his grin curling like a promise… a filthy one.

“You’re so bad,” you murmur, watching him do it—fully aware of the things that turn your psycho boyfriend on.

Art tilts his head toward you—amused. He bites his lower lip, eyebrows bouncing twice—a swirl of vicious thoughts brewing behind those eyes.

“I’m just getting started,” his look says.

And you know exactly what that means.

You start poking around the car.

A pine-scented air freshener hangs from the rearview mirror—the unmistakable stench of middle class.

You open the glove compartment. A photo: a smiling family at a water park. The dad—your passenger—and his wife hugging two little kids with duck floaties.

There’s also a canvas bag hanging off the passenger seat.

A crumpled grocery list.

Whole wheat bread, baby wipes, organic yogurt.

A forgotten parking ticket.

Art takes mental notes of the important things, of course—the night is young.

His eyes roam the dashboard, with restrained hunger gleaming in them—the car hasn’t shown him everything it’s capable of yet. He’s curious about the motor, he wants to hear it roar—he wants it to purr for him.

He slides the key in with intention—precise and firm.

BRRRUMMMMM.

That metallic growl pulls a smile from him. The car jerks and vibrates under his touch—obedient, like a beast under its handler.

And you… you feel it.

The hum of the engine crawls up your legs, coils in your pelvis. The vibrations buzz at your core—and your clit throbs, swelling from the involuntary friction. Your lip catches between your teeth, and your hips shifts in the seat before you realize it—just slightly… just enough.

He knows—of course he knows.

He wanted this—to warm up the engine, under the hood… and between your legs.

It’s getting to him too—not just you. He’s already picturing it: you trembling on top of him, the car growling beneath his cock, vibrating inside you with every thrust—like his body’s synced to the same pulse, throbbing with it.

He can feel it building—an undeniable erection is beginning to press against his pants—, shifting and swelling under the fabric as it takes shape.

“What’s the plan, baby?” you ask, biting your lips—your voice thick with smoke and want.

Art doesn’t answer with words—he simply raises a hand—elegant, dismissive… brushing your question aside like it’s nothing.

He’s telling you there’s no rush—just relax…

There’s so much to do… and he wants to savor every fucking second.

Art locks eyes with the rearview mirror again. The hostage is panting, his forehead pressed against the glass like he’s still trying to convince himself this is all just a nightmare—he looks like a rabbit cornered in a burrow with no way out.

Art stares at him—speaking volumes without a single word.

He can already taste it: the fear, the eroticism, the humiliation, the sex, the cruelty, the climax…

A full-course meal.

Then he looks at you: torn clothes, skin smeared with blood and sin—you look beautiful.

He wants you naked. Now.

But he won’t push—he’s not a brute.

He wants you to undress for him—wants the guy in the back to witness what it’s like to be craved like this—to see what it does to a woman, needing him like this.

So he lifts a hand—easy, unbothered, lazy—and presses a button.

Click.

The heater kicks in with a low hum… warm air starts filling the car, wrapping around you like an invisible tongue. The engine’s purr still buzzes beneath your thighs—deep inside you.

He smiles—a satisfied smile—like a magician pulling off a perfect trick. Without laying one finger on you, he already has you blushing, squirming, breathless, aching for him.

You know it.

He knows it.

And the hostage is starting to catch on too…

Your body grows sticky beneath the damp fabric. Every thread against your skin is torture—you need to get it off, you need to move, you need—

Art doesn’t even look at you. He’s still staring into the mirror—still wearing that smile.

Waiting.

And he does it—he reclines his seat slightly, spreads his legs, and folds his arms behind his head—clearly putting himself on disply… just so you’ll notice the erection straining against his pants—begging for your attention, impossible to ignore…

He’s sending you a message—saying everything without a single word… and you’re practically drooling at the thought.

“Strip for me—do it slow, do it sexy. Do it while he watches—I want him to see you… but only that. Fuck me.”

You nod, breath quickening. Your fingers glide across your torso—trembling from anticipation—over the dried blood, the torn fabric, as you begin to undo what’s left of your clothes.

Not for comfort.

Not because of the heat.

For him.

Because you want to show him just how obedient you are—and how feral when he lets you.

To both of them.

Art’s pupils twitch in their sockets—tracking your every move—, hunger burning behind his eyes as you begin to undress—you unbutton your shirt, slipping it off your shoulders to reveal a black-and-white lace bra (his favourite), your fingers reach for the zipper of your skirt...

But he stops you there. He doesn’t want you completely naked—not yet.

Your gaze flicks down to his hand on your zipper… then climbs back up to his eyes—so close, and still out of reach.

You see him bite down on his tongue, and he swallows hard—his Adam’s apple bobbing, the tension thick in his throat.

Touching you is the point of no return.

His hands move to your thighs—slow and deliberate—drawn to the fire he’s been stoking. His breath grows heavy—warm fog curling in the air between you. He feels how hard he’s getting, his arousal straining tight against his pants—an obscene bulge; twitching and dripping like a caged animal.

His hand moves upward, sliding along your thigh—he knows you’re melting beneath his touch—his fingers trace the edge of your skirt… and then slip beneath it, slowly—like a serpent.

You let out a soft sigh when you feel his cold fingers against your bare skin.

His fingers barely brush against your panties—right where you're burning, where you need him the most—and he feels the slick warmth of your arousal soaking through the fabric.

That jagged grin spreads across his lips like a wound.

Look what I do to you. thoughts swirl in his head as he brushes the moisture.

You let out a soft moan at that first touch, legs parting involuntarily—your body pleading for him to keep going—to explore you, enjoy you, lose himself in you…

Anything… but stopping.

His cold fingers move slowly over your clit, teasing it—making you tremble with that cruel kind of pressure—punishing you for wanting.

You can feel yourself dripping, your pussy opening for him like a sick flower.

Your head falls back, eyes fluttering closed, lost in the heat and the ache. You keep your legs spread perfectly wide for him—there’s no use pretending you have any dignity left.

You’re his.

“Art…” you whisper through clenched teeth, barely able to say his name.

But Art isn't looking at you—he’s watching the hostage through the rearview mirror. The victim stares back—wide-eyed, mouth sealed, face twisted in confusion, fear… and maybe something else?

And you feel it: the heat, the trembling, the need… Just his hand—just that—and you’re already soaked.

You need more.

Art slips his fingers under the band of your lingerie—finally breaching that thin, delicate barrier—and this time he goes for your wet entrance.

Two fingers ease into you, meeting no resistance.… and he starts fucking you with them—deep, firm—, those long, thick fingers that reach places you can never reach on your own.

How can hands so violent bring this much pleasure?

“Yes… yes…” you breathe, eyes shut, unraveling in his palm.

He finds your G-spot and presses—makes that motion, the one that drives you wild. He massages it in sweet circles, stroking it, pressing rhythmically,… the way he knows you crave.

“God… God… God…” you moan, each word a gasp timed with his thrusts.

Without thinking—driven purely by instinct—your hand slides to Art’s abdomen. You caress him, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles through the soaked fabric of his suit.

Art lets out his first sigh—needy for your touch, but still patient.

Your hands trail down his body—calm and deliberate. The heat from the car is making the dried blood liquefy again, coating your fingers like a sticky kind of lubricant.

Art tries to hold back… but he can’t.

In a sudden movement, he grabs your hand and drags it down—pressing it against his cock, still trapped behind fabric. His much larger hand wraps around yours, forcing your fingers to tighten around his aching manhood—right where he wants them.

He guides your hand up and down—dictating the rhythm—then releases you, letting you take control and stroke him on your own—just the way he likes it, feeling the weight of his need in your palm.

You work your hand along his cock, adding pressure with each pass—you love watching him unravel… live for the way he trembles under your touch.

With your thumb, you trace slow circles over the head—his most sensitive spot. You see his mouth fall open in a silent moan, his stomach tightens—abs rippling with tension—, his thighs tense without warning… His whole body betraying how much he feels it.

He wants to close his eyes… and yet, he doesn’t.  

He wants to watch the hostage. No—he wants the hostage to watch him. To see him enjoying it, to see him moaning under the touch of a woman he’ll never have—no one will.

The car windows are starting to fog up from the heat radiating off your bodies—a humid, heavy cave of lust. It’s thick, stifling… 

Inebriating.

Everything smells like sex, blood, and restrained desire.

Your breathing grows heavier by the second—the vibrations of the engine, the heat, the slick movements, the scent of sweat and iron, the hostage in the backseat...

And then—your eyes meet.

"Let’s show him how it’s done." You both think it, in perfect sync.

You straighten in your seats—and reach for each other.

You kiss.

Tongues tangled, mouths devouring one another in a filthy, hungry kiss—while the hostage watches every movement, eyes wide with disbelief. 

As you both keep working each other: you, stroking his cock with devoted hands, desperate to feel him inside; and him, pumping his fingers into you in wet, rhythmic thrusts—opening you up, stretching you, preparing you to take him.

Art pulls back, eyes locking with yours in raw desperation—and in a sudden, urgent motion; he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, snaps the driver’s seat back into place and slips into the backseat—like a man who’s reached his limit, on the edge of breaking.

He leaves the keys in the ignition, but takes the small remote with him—he’s not letting go of control over his new toy.

He settles beside the hostage—just one seat of space between them.

And you follow—immediately.

You climb onto him, straddling his lap like it’s a throne. Being on top of this beast—riding him, dominating him—it makes you feel powerful, sexy, dangerous.

Your tits—still wrapped in your black and white lace bra—, sway close to his face. Teasing him, taunting him—daring him to claim what’s his with kisses and bites.

Your lover—pupils blown wide—licks his lips at the vision before him: Your legs spread wide over his hips, your waist rolls slow over his aching cock—your bloodstained body… so obscene, so evil, perfectly soaked in sin—yet untouchable…

It’s exactly how he wants you.

You smile as you peel off your skirt, leaving only your lingerie—his favorite set: black and white,

the panties featuring a manual opening he knows all too well... Warm blood splattered across your exposed skin drips like a baptism in violence.

Then you feel it—Art shifting beneath you, rocking his hips with need—urging you to move in that way—his way—the way only you know drives him insane.

He’s searching for you—needing you.

His body is begging for the heat of your cunt, for your wetness, your tightness—that divine prison that squeezes him down to the soul.

He grabs your hips—firm, greedy—and grinds you down against him. He’s smiling up at you—he wants you to know what you’re doing to him, how much he wants you, how badly he’s dying to fuck you right here, right now, in this stolen car, with this bound man watching, beneath this cunt that exists for him alone.

You moan when you feel his clothed manhood—hard rock—press against your entrance—thick, throbbing, threatening…

Irresistible.

You move with the rhythm of the soft blues still floating through the air—slow, sensual, evocative. You match the rhythm of the engine, letting it buzz through your core as you ride his cock—teasing him—, without letting him in just yet, denying him entry—keeping him just where you want… dragging your slick heat along his length with your soaked folds.

He’s pinned beneath you—helpless—, while you grind on him like he paid for the best lap dance of his fucking life—and you’re overdelivering. The stage is yours and he’s so lucky to be under you.

And the bound spectator right next to you? Trapped in the front row of the filthiest show he’s ever witnessed.

Art’s eyes light up as his hands trace the full length of your body, gliding over your curves,

smearing blood across your soft skin. Your body shivers under his touch—so seductive, possessive, demanding, masculine… Art.

Every move draws him in, pulls him deeper—impossible to look away from. And when you meet his gaze, what you see there… can only be described as obsession.

Pure, raw, sheer obsession.

Your hands slide down his torso, beneath his magnificent clown ruffle, searching for the front zipper of his suit—you tug it down, slowly… revealing his body—pale as snow after a murder.

You pinch his nipples, gently, but with wicked intent—you can’t help yourself.

Art lets out a harsh breath, teeth clenched. He says nothing—just lets his hand do the talking, landing a stinging slap on your ass.

SMAK!

The sound cuts through the air—louder than anything the hostage could possibly muster.

You laugh—and moan.

You lean in, take his face in your hands, and kiss him. 

Deep. Slow. Damned. Making love to him with your mouth alone.

Your hips roll back and forth as you moan into his mouth, rubbing your swollen clit against the thick, dripping erection you've been teasing to madness.

Art’s hands tighten around your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh—right where they always do. He bites your lower lip with a hunger that leaves droplets of blood on your scarlet mouth, savoring you.

He growls as his tongue absorbs your essence—the one thing he aches for the most, and the one thing he can never truly claim.

You’re both floating in a toxic cloud of pleasure, wrapped around each other, losing yourselves,

burning together…

You are fire and gasoline—and this car is about to explode.

Then—a sound.

A dry, desperate sound.

The hostage is fumbling with the door using his elbows—trying to escape while you’re both too distracted—, a useless, clumsy, pathetic attempt.

Art chuckles, and presses a button on the remote.

Click.

Locked.

The last flicker of hope dies with a cheerful electronic beep.

The guy slams his head against the window in pure frustration. And Art—naturally—has to take it a step further.

He presses the button again… and starts to play.

The window goes down…

Then up…

Doooown.

Uuuuup.

Like he’s saying:

“You leave when I say so.” That grin of his stretches wide—every ounce of swagger in the world packed into one smug expression.

“Bet your wife’s never done anything even remotely like this to you, huh?” you taunt through a laugh, still grinding on Art, and you plant a hot kiss on his flushed cheek—which he accepts with a pleased smirk.

Art rolls his eyes and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions with mock exasperation.

Then he reaches out—arm casual, fluid—and pinches the hostage’s cheek. A playful, mocking squeeze—like a grandmother scolding her grandkid for being nosy and naughty.

“You’re probably so horny right now, huh?” you purr, voice thick with mockery. “You want this so bad, don’t you? But you know what? You’re not getting any of this. The only thing you can do is… watch.” You tell him, making sure he knows his place.

You slip one bra strap off your shoulder, tilting your head to reveal the imprint of a bite—deep teeth marks—already darkening like a brand.

“I belong to him. Only him,” you finish with a wicked, toothy smile.

Art sees it—and his mouth waters.

He leans in and licks it.

Not for you.

Not for pleasure.

He licks it for him—for the hostage.

So he sees it.

So he understands.

So it hurts.

“And now comes the best part,” you moan, eyes shutting—just as Art’s teeth sink into the imprint—driven by a mix of worship, lust and hunger.

His arms wrap around you like a perfect trap, his hands traveling with expert precision to your back.

Click.

The clasp of your bra pops open, the fabric slides down your arms, surrendering to him—like everything else. Your tits fall free—or into his captivity—as he lowers the straps with care, like unwrapping a present.

His hands trace over your bare back, and his mouth—God, his mouth—works its way over your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders. Kissing—devouring—every inch of skin he can reach.

You start pulling his suit down while he consumes you—as far as you can manage—letting him shrug his arms free, removing the hood from his head, kissing the pale skin beneath every piece of fabric you strip away.

And then—your world flips… upside down.

Art grabs your hair and yanks your head back, exposing your throat—that vulnerable stretch of skin, that one delicate spot where a single well-placed bite could bleed you out in minutes.

But no.

He won’t—he never would.

Instead, he licks you—slowly. Dragging his tongue up your throat, from the base of your neck to your chin—like a predator savoring his prey before the final bite… until he reaches your lips.

He kisses you—and smiles against your mouth.

And you melt into that smile—your spine arching for him, offering every inch of yourself.

You are his—and you want him to know it.

Then, without pulling away—still gripping your hair—he turns to look at the hostage. And he makes a gesture—a light tap under his eye with one finger.

Tap, tap.

"You don’t want to miss this."

Art releases you and turns back to meet your eyes.

You look at him.

No words needed—your gazes say everything

You lift yourself—just enough—and free him from the fabric yourself. It springs up, thick and heavy, smacking against his stomach—so hard it sure hurts. Promising you so many things…so much pleasure and pain.

You hold him in your hands like something precious—just like the rest of him—burning in your hands. It’s hot, pulsing, alive…

You spit into your hand and smear it across your chest, mixing your saliva with blood—his favourite lubricant.

You guide him to your soaked cunt, rubbing his head against it—preparing yourself to take him in. Your mouth parts with moans as you press his sensitive, dripping tip against your clit, and Art can’t help but close his eyes—he lives for this.

Precum, blood, and saliva mix, slicking your tight entrance—necessary.

You’re getting ready—you’re offering yourself.

You’re about to open for him like a beautiful wound.

Art takes the chance to cradle your face in both of his bloodstained hands—grateful—pulling you in for one last kiss before taking everything from you. Thanking you

And just like that, you sink down onto him—inch by inch—, your breath trembling against his mouth, moaning into the kiss as he fills you with his ruthless passion.

You break the kiss to breathe—your sighs and moans brushing against his shoulders like a fevered confession.

You whimper against his neck as you feel him push deeper—claiming more of you. His hands grip your hips like anchors, keeping you from pulling away. The only thing you can do is keep sinking… all the way down to hell.

The hostage can’t look away.

You close your eyes as he spreads you, splits you, fills you—destroys you with his love. Your insides part for him, bowing to his presence.

Your body yields to him completely—like always—, welcoming him once more.

“Fuck…” you mutter through gritted teeth.

It doesn’t matter how many times Art fucks you… it always hurts at first.

And you love it.

You’re full to the edge—can’t take anymore… but you know there’s still one last stretch to take.

Your body trembles, thighs tight like pulled cords, your back arches under the pressure, under the depth. You’re fully impaled—as deep as your body will allow.

You look at Art—and he’s smiling. 

That arrogant, knowing smile—and you know exactly what it means. He’s holding back—just a little. He still has more to give, of course—he’s not done. He feels that last part of him, just out of reach... waiting for your warmth too.

He tilts his head, giving you that look:

“Stuck there again? God, I love it.”

And he knows you know what’s coming.

He bites his tongue, barely fighting the urge—but his abs tighten, his nails dig into your flesh.

And then—

SLAM!

He slams in—fills you to the hilt. No space left, just wet flesh locked tight—your body, an extension of his own. Your spine arches like a broken bow, and your scream finally bursts free.

You collapse against him—undone by him, wrecked by him. Clinging to his neck like you might fall off the edge of the world. A tear slips from your eye—uninvited—, and Art feels it land against his neck. His pupils blow wide—it turns him on more than any moan, any scream, any word. A tear… drawn from pleasure, from excess

For him.

“Everything about you is deadly… you can't deny it”, you whisper in his ear—trembling

He holds you close, crushing you to him—your bodies pressed together perfectly, completely.

One hand caresses your back, sliding through the blood and sweat with an affection so gentle it borders on insulting. The other lifts to his lips, and—with a single finger—, he makes a gesture:

“Shhh.”

It’s not to comfort you—it’s because he likes the contrast. It turns him on to silence you while he destroys you.

He’s a bastard—a stylish fucking bastard.

And you couldn’t love him more.

You stay like that, bodies fused. Kissing—your tongues whispering everything your vocal cords could never express, everything your voices would never dare to say aloud.

Even Art needs a second.

Even though you’re the one bearing the more brutal trauma, he has to adjust too—has to carve his way inside you… and you don’t make it easy.

Your walls clench around him, strangling him with pressure—but at the same time, massaging him with that exquisite mix of pain and pleasure—, while his tip kisses your cervix in the deepest intimacy your body has to offer—rooted deep inside of you.

You feel yourself start to relax—the pain slowly, melting into pleasure.

There’s nothing in the world that makes you happier than having him inside you, wrapping him in your heat…

And you can’t wait to have him trembling beneath you—to ruin him.

So you start to move—drawn into that delicious, rocking motion your body craves... your hips swaying over his hard cock—wrapped tight around him—, dragging your wetness along his length—lost in the rhythm that only the two of you know.

In, then out…  In, then out…

Art exhales—a shuddering breath that trembles through his entire body—that vibrates beneath you as you begin.

His head falls back, eyes slide shut as he finally lets himself feel. His lips part—soundless moans escaping like breath—and his arms sprawl out wide and lazy along the car’s interior, offering himself to the moment, to you… 

One of them resting dangerously close to your guest.

Close? No—he wraps it around the hostage’s shoulders, like a whore waiting for her turn to ride him too. Though truthfully…he’s already very much involved in the act—doing his part as the good little sex toy he is.

“God, you look so fucking sexy right now,” you murmur, watching the way your movements unravel him.

Art smiles—eyes half-lidded.

The truth is: as much as he loves fucking you, there’s something next level about watching you ride him—seeing you worship him without being told, offering yourself like that, dripping devotion. It’s like having the power to force someone to obey… but without needing a gun—just by spreading his legs.

The hand resting on the hostage’s shoulder moves. Art runs it through the man’s hair, tender and soft—like stroking a beloved pet.

Which, of course… he is.

The hostage flinches—recoiling with a shiver—, trying to shrink away.

You act immediately.

“STILL.” Your voice cuts like a blade. “Or you’ll regret it…” you say, lifting his phone with an evil grin curling your lips. “You don’t want anyone to get hurt, do you?” you say, giving him puppy eyes.

You open his gallery—rows of family photos. His two kids and his wife. You pick one—a birthday shot.

“Happy 10th, Marvin… ooohhh,” you coo sweetly. “Might be the last.”, you finish—dry, flat, final.

You show it to him.

Not with rage—but with tenderness.

Like you’re showing him the ending of his own movie.

Both men lose their breath. Their eyes snap open—but for very different reasons.

One is paralyzed by sheer terror.

The other… nearly cums.

You are—without question—, his most powerful weapon.

The hostage instantly returns to his original position—silent, obedient—like a scolded dog. He’s finally understood who’s in charge.

“That’s how I like to see you…” you whisper—poisoned sweetness dripping from your voice as you stroke his chin, like you’re rewarding him.

Meanwhile, Art is still threading his fingers through the man’s hair, playing, mocking him.

Then he looks at you—stunned. You’re the sexiest thing he’s ever fucking seen—and also the cruelest.

You’re a perfect match.

“If he disobeys,” you say sweetly, just loud enough for the hostage to hear, “we’ll kill them, right;  sweetheart?” You ask it like a little girl asking for permission to cause mischief.

Art nods enthusiastically with a toothy smile. But it’s all theater—you both know exactly how this story ends.

BRRUUMMM BRUUUUUMMMM

Art presses the button on the remote again. The engine roars—like a beast awakening.

The vibrations intensify—the window glass rattles—shaking through your bones, ripping a moan from your throat that drowns out the soft background blues.

“ART—!”

Your hand flies to the window to brace yourself against the jolt. It leaves behind a perfect blood-red handprint smeared across the fogged-up glass—as beautiful as it is erotic.

A perfect signature on this masterpiece.

What Art’s really telling you is—he wants it louder.

He wants chaos.

He wants lust.

He wants blood.

He wants you completely unhinged.

“So you want me to hit the gas, huh?” you growl, eyes dark, voice hoarse with want, with power, with pure unfiltered lust. “You’re not ready for this ride… and I’ve already cut the brakes”, you finish by throwing him a defiant smile, trailing a finger lazily from his neck down to his chest.

Art mimics a bite in the air, baring every single tooth—all sharp and full of challenge. He’s dying for you, dying for your worst self.

You start to move—riding him with rhythm, your hips grinding in perfect sync with his. Your bodies separate and slam together again and again, filling the car with obscene sounds—wet, violent, animalistic.

Art holds you tight against him—your tits squashed against his heaving chest, your clit grinding against his vibrating pelvis with every relentless thrust.

Your eyes roll back, your mouth opens helplessly against his neck—obscene, slack, starving—your moans pouring into his ears and filling the car like a spell—like they’re trying to crawl under his skin.

You pull yourself free from his embrace for a moment—straightening up fully in front of him. Your perky tits bouncing up and down with your wild movements.

You look up at the ceiling like you’re praying… but all you do is curse.

“I’m your fucking whore,” you cry, drunk on him. “You ever seen a whore take your cock like this? This good? So obedient?! So fucking broken for you?!” you scream with your tongue out, drool spilling shamelessly down your chin.

Art closes the distance in a heartbeat, catching you in his claws again—as if you ever stood a chance. Pulling you back into his grasp like you never escaped in the first place.

And growls against your skin like an animal.

PLASH.

Another slap—sharp and loud—leaving five perfect red fingerprints. You deserved that—for being such a filthy little bitch.

His teeth sink into your neck—too hard. Skin splits, blood flows… God—there’s no name for how much this turns him on.

From your bleeding neck, jaw stained crimson, he looks up at you—devoted—, like you’re a fucking miracle.

He holds you like you’re his whole everything. Clutches you like the world would end if your flesh left his for even a second—like you’re part of him.

And by now—you are.

A red blur in the hostage’s vision—a distorted silhouette of blood and motion. A mess of flesh—writhing, breathing, groaning, laughing—reveling in its own depravity.

You kiss again—rough, messy, dripping with blood—as you keep riding him toward the end of the world. Which—coincidentally—, lies between his legs.

And then—one of your hands drifts toward the hostage.

He goes still. Paralyzed—he knows what happens if he misbehaves. You take him by the chin and force his gaze upward—to make him watch. 

“Don’t even think about closing your eyes... We’ll sew them open.” You warn him with a sweet, venom-laced smile.

Art blinks hard.

“How the fuck did I not think of that before?” he wonders—but mentally files it away for next time.

With one firm shove, you rip him off your body—force his back against the headboard, right where it was, right where he belongs—and start moving on your own again.

You change the rhythm—start riding him faster… faster and deeper. You lift yourself until just his tip kisses your entrance—and then slam down to the base, over and over. Fucking every inch of him—every rise a damnation, every fall a sentence.

Art’s eyes roll back into his skull, whites flashing in ecstasy—he’s in a trance. This is the rhythm that kills him: savage, deep, frantic, punishing.

“This is how you like it, huh?” you gasp between moans, never letting your pace break. “I love dragging this devil to heaven… and letting him split me right back to hell.” You moan, unhinged for him.

And for the hostage, to make sure he doesn’t forget where he is.

You dive for his neck—and Art stiffens instantly… it’s his weakness. You kiss that spot with tongue, with teeth, with hunger. Your mouth pays back every favor—latching onto the muscle, biting skin, licking his Adam’s apple, sucking his jugular, devouring him—owning him.

Art growls, mouth open in voiceless agony and bliss, eyes clenching shut—your rhythm is wrecking him, your mouth is shattering him. His cock is rock hard inside you, every twitch giving away how close he is… but you’re not letting him finish yet—and neither is he.

Suddenly, he yanks you off his neck and stops you—right before it’s too late. He looks at you—panting, ruined,—gasping for breath. Head bowed… so ashamed and submissive. 

Trying to hold himself together, like he's saying:

“Gurl… you can't do this to me—have some mercy ”, but he can’t even look you in the eye.

“Oh… is it too much for you?” you whisper like a lover, but it tastes like betrayal. “My poor baby can’t take it anymore? Feels too good?” you speak in silk, stitched with spite.

You turn to the hostage—offer him a smile as sweet as arsenic.

“You wouldn’t last either… But you won’t get the chance to find out.” you say, teasingly bringing a finger to your lips, amused.

And now, you lean in—toward Art’s ear.

Your warm breath caresses him, drowning out everything else—muting the world—, so that all that reaches him… is you.

Your tongue brushes the shell of his ear, lick the back of it, bite the lobe… And then—without warning—, you slide your tongue into his ear canal. Art melts, a shiver shoots down his spine, a guttural moan bursts from deep in his throat.

He drools—eyes fluttering, head slack, body limp. Your soft, wet moans reverberate inside his skull, a sensual echo that floods his brain—blending with the slow thrusts, the sweltering heat and your hands worshiping his body with criminal devotion.

He’s almost like a ragdoll—a puppet with its strings cut. All moans and drool and absolute surrender: eyes closed, eyebrows knitted in pleasure, a stupid smile on his parted lips... Utterly spellbound by your touch, barely clinging to consciousness.

And then—your voice.

A whisper—like a kiss… soaked in poison.

“Will you fuck me on top of him?” Just for him. So the hostage won’t hear—but to set Art ablaze again.

His eyes snap open—his pupils blown wide, his body tensing like a bow pulled tight.

“I want our faces—our climax—to be the last thing he sees. I want us to come while staring into his eyes.” you breathe sensually, tongue still working his ear like a wicked spell, your hands cradling his head.

The words pierce through him—a direct shot to the heart of his lust.

He rips you away from his ear and crushes your mouth with his teeth, letting you know just how badly he wants that—and more. He kisses you with madness, with sickness, with sadism.

And then his hips find rhythm again—furious, murderous, lethal—ready to strike again.

You cling to him with a grin—watching the world burn beneath you.

Your mouths part, leaving a viscous string of spit and lust hanging between your swollen lips, and there he is—your sex toy, your passenger princess—heart pounding, dignity in ruins.

Four predator eyes lock onto him.

Art licks his lips— so much slaughter, so much sex… 

It makes a man hungry.

You both stare at him in silence—cheeks pressed together, bodies still joined, frozen in time… and then you see it—a shy little bulge in his pants.

“Aww… poor thing, looks like he wants a taste too,” you sneer right in his face, irony dripping from your voice. “Bet he’s jealous,” you say, glancing at Art. “Bet he’s imagining himself in your place.” You know exactly which buttons to push—which wires to cut.

Art’s expression darkens.

Is this fucker imagining what he shouldn’t? Thinking about touching you? Kissing you? Fucking you?

No… absolutely not.

He’s not allowing that.

He leans forward, bends slightly—slips a hand into his shoe… and he pulls out a pair of scissors.

You feel his cock twitch hard inside you as he holds them—sadism bringing out the very best in him.

He opens and closes them right in the hostage’s face—that grin stretching ear to ear.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

He only has one free hand—so you help him.

(Yeah!)

You pull down the hostage’s pants with a bloodthirsty smile.

You grab his balls.

The almost-princess squirms in the seat, trying to retreat from the inevitable steel approaching—with mechanical precision, cold and certain.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

But every tug makes his balls ache, making it worse—only adding to the torment. The skin tethering his balls to his body pulls tighter with every desperate thrash.

You laugh as you squeeze and tug at his balls, stretching that fragile strip of skin that holds them to his body—that perfect little point of breakage.

Art’s eyes shine, his mouth hanging open in a huge smile—he looks thrilled, he’s having the time of his life.

You're still riding him—still fucking him—while he brings the scissors closer, while the cold blade grazes the hostage’s delicate skin.

He’s just a heartbeat away from mutilating his scrotum, from stripping him of his manhood, from turning him into something new, from castrating him forever.

Art’s eyes are wide, crazed. Your smiles are the most wicked they’ve ever been. Laughter—psychotic, unhinged, echoing in your skull—fills your ears in a rush of delirium, your hands working in sync—like a human chimera.

Nothing seems able to change what's meant to be.

And just then—

“Incoming call: Samantha Wife,” announces the car’s robotic voice.

And what follows is the most absurd ringtone imaginable: a xylophone—cheerful, obnoxiously cheerful.

You and Art freeze for a second—just one second. You stare at each other, eyes wide, blank with disbelief…

And then you burst out laughing.

You’re still full of him, and each laugh sends a tremor through you—your pussy clutching his cock in involuntary spasms.

Art slaps his thigh, cackling, gasping, moaning and laughing. Each contraction makes him grunt and huff beneath you—equally turned on and amused.

The hostage can’t breathe, he can’t move. He just cries in silence, pathetically—pants pulled down to his thighs, his balls still dangling between your fingers.

“Samantha... Wife,” you repeat like you're naming a ghost that just passed through the room.

Art doesn’t waste a second—the xylophone is still chiming. That call won’t last forever.

He grabs your face with his bloody hands, pulling you to him, forcing you to look at him—and in his pupils, you see something desperate.

His eyes are overflowing wells.

And then—he starts nodding, manically—like a child begging for an impossible toy.

His hands guide your head in sync with his—nodding together, your eyes just centimeters apart,

like two birds mid-mating ritual.

“YES, YES, YES”

Suddenly, he lets go, collapses into you, buries his face between your tits like salvation lives there. He clutches you—he’s one sob away from crying.

And the xylophone keeps playing—time’s running out.

The hostage is anxious—pants down, balls in your grip, scissors awaiting. 

His dignity hanging by a literal thread.

(Maybe… maybe this is his chance to call for help?)

“Accept call,” you say loud and clear, so the car’s AI picks it up like a loyal servant.

Silence.

Art still clings to you, face buried in your chest—he doesn’t want to look.

Then, a voice—feminine, tired, worried.

“Phil? Hello? Are you there? Why aren’t you answering?” She echoes through the cabin like a ghost.

You freeze. You have no idea what to say—your body stiffens, suspended.

And then the hostage—Phil, apparently—starts thrashing like a drowning rat. Grunting through the duct tape. Lunging forward, his torso slamming into the air, desperate to be heard, to create noise—to make that woman on the other end understand.

THUD!

Art’s fist slams into his gut—a clean backhand strike from the hand holding the scissors. Right to the solar plexus—precise, silencing.

Phil folds like a wet rag and falls silent—immediately. 

How dare he interrupt? How dare he try to upstage the star of the show?

“Phil?! Are you there? It’s almost 8 AM. You have to take the kids to school.” Her voice pushes through the speakers—tense, rising.

Art exhales against your chest, frustrated by your hesitation—your silence. Then he grabs your nipples—hard—twisting them without mercy, like he’s trying to tune your voice in. Like your body is a radio and he’s searching for your signal.

“Samantha…” It’s the first thing that comes out—choked by the pain.

Art softens at the sound. He leans in and licks your nipples—an apology. He strokes them gently, like he’s saying:

“That’s it… good girl. Keep playing.”

And you do.

“So you must be Samantha, huh?” you purr—already sketching the direction you want this to go, like tracing fresh skin with a hot knife.

A dry silence from the other side… Then, the question:

“Who is this?” Her voice lands sharp.

You smile. You feel it—confidence blooms. Art feels it too, through your hips—and his hands encourage you.

He starts to move beneath you—just a little. A slow push, a subtle rhythm, a gentle thrust of support.

He rocks you slowly, just enough to keep you warm, stimulated, aware—paired with the ever-present vibration of the engine beneath you both. Your bodies radiate heat—sex-charged warmth, thick and tangible.

You smile.

“Mmmmmm... You didn’t know?” you reply, tongue gliding over your lips, your voice a velvet blade—sensual, wicked.

Silence on the other end—but she doesn’t hang up.

You feel her frozen, listening—processing.

Art’s licks become kisses, kisses and caresses—he massages your breasts as you speak—rewarding you. Telling you without words that you’re doing perfect.

His hips grind into you—deep, slow—shaping every syllable with his body.

He wants to see you shine—he wants you sharp.

And just then—

Phil lunges—a reflex, a desperate, final attempt. His torso bent, wrists bound, duct tape soaked on his mouth.

His body—weak, restrained—but driven by pure, feral panic. He thrashes, he jerks, he writhes like a dying animal. Maybe he’s trying to scream, maybe trying to break something—anything that will make Samantha suspicious.

But all he manages to do is brush your leg with his shoulder.

A stain on the masterpiece.

Art reacts like someone just spat in his face during mass. 

First fantasizing about fucking you—and now actually touching you? Really?!

He smashes the glass of the side window with his elbow.

Grabs Phil by the hair—hard, brutal—and yanks him between you two, like a trussed-up piglet. 

Then, with the remote, he lowers the now-broken window, shoves Phil’s head out of the car in the cold—and starts rolling the glass back up. The blade-like edge of the shattered window rises—slow, relentless, sadistic. 

Phil’s throat gets trapped.

The pressure builds—and the razor-sharp glass starts tearing into the flesh of his neck, spilling blood down the window like a waterfall of pain. He fights to breathe, but the air leaks out through his torn trachea before it can completely fill his lungs—choking him from within. 

Each movement forces the sharp edges deeper into his bleeding flesh, making it worse to resist.

And Art has no intention of letting go. His finger stays on that button—until Phil bleeds out, suffocates, or freezes.

Art has him by the balls—literally—, and Phil coughs, gags, spasms under the glass’s murderous edge—but Samantha hears nothing…. because her husband is now outside the car.

You cling to Art’s shoulders, gasping, your body still flushed and pulsing from before—but now caught in that delicious edge between murder and desire.

That razor line where you both live.

And then—with the call still active, with Samantha likely crying on the other end, believing her husband is cheating on her—Art starts moving inside you again.

Rough.

Powerful.

Devastating.

All while gripping Phil, all while staring into your eyes—his face twisted in bliss and brutality.

Because the suffocating, bleeding body wedged between you is just part of the entertainment. Because the gagging, the twitching, the sobbing—It’s just background noise for your moans, music to your ears.

“Phil’s been having a blast this whole time. You should’ve seen us, hahaha!” you laugh out loud—bright, mean, unapologetic.

You keep riding Art—who still has Phil by the hair and the balls—without stopping. Your blood-splattered hips slam against Art’s vibrating pelvis with every deep thrust.

“We’ve done things…” you murmur through heavy breaths, biting your finger playfully, “things that would leave your jaw on the floor.” You’re not lying, not even a little.

“And the best part is…” you drop your voice to a sensual whisper, “we’re not done yet. The best is still coming.” You shoot Art a look. 

He’s losing it—laughing harder with every word out of your mouth. And the best part? He knows you’re absolutely right.

“Where is he… I want to talk to him, I need to…” comes the whisper from the speaker—a broken, trembling voice.

“Phil? Oh, he’s…” You glance at him—gasping through the window, barely conscious,

bleeding down the glass.

“He’s getting some air. It’s just… so hot in here. Poor thing’s outside, pants down, trying to catch his breath…” You shrug your shoulders, like it means nothing.

Click.

The call ends—abruptly. She’s heard enough—she can’t take any more.

And Art cheers.

You’ve been flawless. He’d be clapping if his hands weren’t full of hostage. You never broke character—not once. And all the while, you kept fucking him, both of you using Phil like he was just part of the set design.

Art starts bouncing you on his cock with the momentum of his hips—like you weigh nothing, making you jump, then slamming you back down onto his length.

He celebrates you.

Every thrust feels like he’s saying: “Hip hip hooray!”

You both brace yourselves on Phil’s limp body, kissing with feverish desperation as your hips keep moving—he’s stopped resisting. He’s not fighting anymore.

You use him—like a table, like furniture—as if his useless body was made just to support you.

Art lowers the window all the way to free Phil’s lacerated neck—he’s dizzy, disoriented, fading.

And you both look down at him with something almost like… tenderness, as he writhes weakly across your naked laps.

The important thing is… your princess is still alive.

Oops! Did I say princess?

That reminds me...

SNIP.

We left off right there, didn’t we?

The—now official—Passenger Princess is fully conscious again.

Art moves fast.

He rips the duct tape from his mouth in one swift, dry motion—and in the blink of an eye… shoves his own mutilated scrotum back inside it.

Without hesitation—like forcing medicine down a rebellious child’s mouth..

And then, reseals it—tape back in place.

Well, he won’t be making any more noise now, will he?

Art slams him down against the leather seats. And taking full advantage of the position Phil’s in—flat on his back, humiliated, turned into both mattress and rug at once—you waste no time.

You pounce on him.

You get on all fours—right on top of him as Art strips off the last of his bloody suit and positions himself behind you.

He lines up—presses his chest against your back—and sinks into you from behind. 

Doggy style.

You both moan from the pleasure of this new sensation, your bodies shuddering in response.

And from that angle—you both look down at your lovely victim. Your hands are planted on either side of his head, and Art’s face leans in over your shoulder, never taking his eyes off him.

You both smile down at him.

Your hair brushes across his face with every thrust, and Art bites his lip as he fucks you from behind—absorbed—, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist—over your stomach—pulling your bodies together as much as possible.

Your arms start to give out, buckling under the weight of Art pressing into your back—your strength is fading…

You let yourself fall without a second thought—you don’t care.

You both collapse onto him like a cross—settling atop him without missing a stroke.

You—body to body, chest to chest with the hostage. And Art—on top of you, inside you—pinning you both in place.

A human tower of sin: Three bodies, two lovers, one victim—one act.

A perfect threesome.

And beneath you, shifting like a ragdoll—his movements pulled by the rhythm of Art’s thrust… your princess.

Your soft, squirming mattress, creaking with every motion—your own private living bed.

Art doesn’t wrap his arms around you anymore—he takes the opportunity to wrap them around your hostage, just to make sure he doesn’t feel left out.

He hugs you through him—as if you were the steak, and the man-and-a-half were the bread in a meat sandwich.

And you gasp—between laughter and moans—feeling the weight of him crushing your back,

the burning heat of his skin, and his cock—unyielding—fucking the life out of you.

You smile—you close your eyes. Lost in the pleasure, lost in this madness you love—this chaos that is him.

Exactly this.

Exactly this is what you needed to come.

Your man giving you everything—on you, against you, inside you—filling you with himself like the end of the world depends on it.

You moan his name with a broken voice, drool slipping down your chin, eyes squeezed shut—your fists clutching the hostage’s shirt like it were a bedsheet.

That feeling—building deep inside you, rising higher and higher.

Art is holding you now—tight. So tight you can’t even move… All you can do is take it—take his cock until his grip finally breaks… until he cums.

Your bodies—naked, bloodied, overflowing, frantic—can’t take much more. 

So close.

So close.

Art bites your shoulders—his teeth ache like a teething baby needing something to gnaw on.

God—he’s hitting every single spot, every place you need. And your tight walls clutch him harder with each thrust, a velvet trap begging him not to stop.

And he won’t—not for a second.

Not the fucking.

Not the biting.

His tongue finds yours in a frenzy. And you kiss like oxygen doesn't matter—like your tongues have to melt together before the end comes.

Your mixed spit drips down onto Phil’s face, who’s right there—just inches away—unwilling witness to your sexual apocalypse.

Moans, growls, gasps, filthy sounds fill the car—a hellish symphony.

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEEEEP.

The seatbelt alert—triggered by Art’s brutal thrusting—like a child kept awake by the sounds of his parents fucking in the next room.

From the outside, the image is absurd: a car bouncing like a cartoon, that shrill warning screaming alone into the empty world.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—matters now.

You’re on fire.

He’s on fire.

The world is on fire.

And Art… Art doesn’t stop.

His arms locked around your body like he hates you for how much he loves you.

“Come for me, baby,” you soothe him. “Fill my body with your poison… spill into me… flood me.”

You whisper it with all the heat in your soul, but some part of you starts to wonder—is something wrong with him?

You look back at him for a second. And he’s wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, sweat dripping down his temples, saliva trailing from his lips—in shock. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, erratic.

And then—you get it.

You lunge for Phil’s throat. You want Art to see you—to see your mouth soaked in fresh blood—hungry, feral, sensual for him.

He loves the sight of you like this. This is his favorite you—your freak self.

And he can’t help but do the same.

The princess moans beneath the tape. No longer fighting—but still feeling… and that’s all that matters.

Art licks one side of his neck. 

You lick the other.

One on each side—like two hyenas toying with a trembling fawn.

You feast on his throat with teeth and lust—leaving red, wet, gleaming marks—, sucking his skin like it’s candy, moaning as you devour the meat of his neck.

And then, the taste of fresh blood hits his tongue—seeping from the tiny cuts made by shattered glass… and he savors it.

That taste… Hot blood from fresh cuts, still full of life—slipping out of its vessel.

Art finds the wounds—and fucks them with his tongue. He plunges into the gashes, tongue twisting and probing, teasing the torn flesh before driving deeper into the raw, bleeding meat.

And then you feel it—a shift. The tension in his jaw, a tremor rippling through his entire body…

Art growls.

“No…” you whisper, already knowing what’s coming. “You’re not going to be able to stop, are you?” you say, already bracing for what’s about to happen.

And he can’t—his ragged breath, his blown pupils, his endless thrusting—they tell you everything.

It hurts you to see him like this—to know you can’t satisfy every one of his needs… 

“This is exactly what you need to finish. I know… do it,” you whisper to him—calm, loving.

He nods, eyes locked on that pulsing throat—he can’t resist any longer.

CRUNCH.

Hot blood splashes your chest, your face, your hair, your neck.

Art’s teeth sink into the Princess’s neck like ripe fruit.

And he starts eating—tearing off chunks of flesh as large as his mouth will allow.

The Princess spasms beneath you, moaning like a dying animal—his body convulsing under your writhing, relentless fucking.

This is the end.

And you look at Art—mouth dripping red, eyes completely gone, face twisted in pure, carnal lust—fucking you harder, faster and deeper than ever. 

And right then—he cums.

Inside you—violently, completely.

He closes his eyes, furrows his brow, his head drops to the angle of your neck, pressing his forehead against your skin. His mouth opens in silence—he’s screaming on the inside, riding the wave of his orgasm like it’s tearing him apart.

His cock pulses inside you like a second heart.

And you feel everything—under pressure.

All his sickness.

All his love.

All his hatred.

And you cum with him—as if your body has no choice.

Not with this image.

Not with this feeling.

Not with those final breaths brushing your neck, escaping his lips as he devours human flesh and clings to you like you’re his torture and the only relief from it.

You cum together—on top of the still-warm corpse.

Art’s thrusts don’t stop as you both ride out the climax—filling you with thick white ribbons of the most intense pleasure a man’s body can take.

He trembles as he clings to you, and you offer yourself completely—you stretch his orgasm out as long as you can—wishing it could last forever for him.

And he does the same for you, in that way only he knows—only he can.

This is the most beautiful part of sex: That moment when you trap each other in a cage made of pleasure.  That moment when it feels like nothing exists outside the other.

The car finally stills.

The beeping fades.

All that remains is your breathing.

And the echo of madness.

Art slips out of you—just for a moment, just long enough to turn you over—and slides back inside with the little strength he has left… just enough to kiss you until he gives in to exhaustion. 

“I love you…” you whisper against his lips, stroking his sinful, naked body. “More than anything,”

you continue between soft kisses that taste like human meat. “I’d do anything for you.”

And he holds you—not quite understanding what you mean, but utterly captivated by your sweet insanity.

He still moves inside you—soft now, but present—in a slow, ghostly rhythm. You close your eyes, letting the fading climax travel through your still-entwined bodies.

Foreheads pressed together, as he finishes unloading inside you—as he empties himself deep inside. The last of him—slowly trickling out in drops, like tears.

And then—a vibration: Phil’s phone.

A new notification.

Marvin Son: Dad, where are you? Mom’s acting weird and we’re going to be late for school.

Art sees it—squints—, and with fingers still trembling from the effort, he types:

Dad: I got lost, I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and the GPS isn’t working. No clue how to get back home from here… Send me your location and I’ll be there in a sec.

Marvin: Ok. (location attached).

You lie there, eyes unfocused on the ceiling, utterly spent.

“Truth is…we need a nice, relaxing shower.”

Thank you for reading all the way to the end!!!

I hope you enjoyed this story just as MUCH as I did.

Although… I have to admit I might’ve gone a little too far with the poor guy.

There were moments when I genuinely started to feel bad…

Maybe I should’ve stopped after making his wife believe her husband was a son of a bitch.

Maybe I should’ve stopped when Art started choking him with a broken-glass-powered automatic window.

Maybe I should’ve stopped when Art cut off his balls (and stuffed them in his mouth…).

Maybe I should’ve stopped when Art was literally eating him alive.

Maybe I should’ve stopped before dooming an entire happy family.

Oh well. Terrifier things, I guess 😅 HAHAHA.

If you liked the story, please leave a juicy like—it seriously motivates me to keep writing and keep feeding you all.

Comments are also very welcome. I love talking to people as insane as I am.

And don’t forget about requests—I'd be more than happy to make all your dreams cum true.💋🩸

Thanks again for everything, and I’ll see you in the next Artventure.

[zeropro]

What are your thoughts on transformers prime and transformers one?

TL:DR I liked both! TFP was my first Transformers show that I watched all the way through and TF1 was a lot of fun! Opinions on Starscream under the break pfpfpfpfpfpf

Prime was literally my first Transformers experience (Okay that's not true, I did see the first Bay movie when it came out but lets not talk about that). It's really good! My favorite character was Ratchet, I loved that he's just a tired, grumpy, racist old man and he's a doctor. Knock Out was the best thing to come out of TFP and he really should be in more stuff. Really would have loved a fourth season but it wouldn't have been the same without the children around. I liked what we got!

Prime has an excellent Starscream, Steve Blume does an amazing performance with both his deep conniving gravel and his high pitched terrified sputtering. So much character in his animation too, especially in later seasons, and an incredibly compelling character arc. Prime Starscream is not a good person, but I would burn the world for him, and I like the small moments in the show that hint at something in his character that could be turned to good, but circumstance always works against him in that regard. He's just so pathetic, but also competent and dangerous, all the best qualities of a Starscream and a very unique design!

Transformers One was quite good, I was worried because of the trailers but I was surprised by how well executed it all was. None of the characters were annoying, and making Optimus Prime originally one of the oppressed class alongside Megatron was a good move. The scene where Orion gives Dee the sticker is so cute, I simply cannot. The ending felt a bit rushed but what can you do, it wasnt so bad that it's a problem for me.

I would have loved just a little more Starscream in the movie! Like, I knew he wasn't really gonna be in the movie much so i was prepared for it to be little more than a glorified cameo, but I loved a lot of what we did get and I feel like it was missing just a little bit more! Like, the whole High Guard turned rogue backstory he has is great, implies some honor to his character since he didnt keep serving Sentinal when the guy turned Cybertron over to the Quintissance. I think it's hilarious that Starscream is so much older than Megatron. Like, they gave us a lot of food to make headcanons out of, but then the rushed ending kind of left me with no real reason given for him and the rest of the High Guard to go with Megatron without a fight. Like, I think the reason given was that, because Megatron beat him up that one time, and then killed Sentinal, and since the High Guard became a might makes right society and hates Sentinal, I guess thats why they are loyal to him now. And I guess the one line where Starscream is like "all hail megatron" is supposed to indicate he's 100% behind Megatron now and not just a spur of the moment thing. And I guess them following his command to destroy the city is why theyre being banished. But like...idk, every other plot point was well established and properly played out, and the whole decepticons thing just didnt really feel like enough, and i kind of feel like it should have been more clearly communicated considering its an entire one side of a two sided war? I feel like we werent shown the high guard doing anything egregiously bad besides attacking people because megatron told them to.

Like, there's nothing in the movie to suggest that Starscream and the High Guard arent still loyal to the Primes. So when Orion comes back as a prime, like a proper prime, with the matrix and everything, which everyone knows will make the energon flow again, I'm surprised Starscream didnt at least try to make excuses or worm his way into avoiding banishment? My headcanon is he wanted to kill Sentinal as bad as Megatron and so when Megatron finally does what he failed to do for 50 cycles, he's like aite im ride or die for this guy. Maybe 50 cycles of living in the wilderness doing nothing but scout and pit fight all day changes a guy and they dont wanna live in a society anymore. Why dont they accept Optimus as the new prime? They helped him and Elita save their friends, and unlike Sentinal Optimus has the actual Matrix this time. Idk mang. Woulda liked a bit more.

Transformers One, not my favorite design for Starscream. The head vents going wide at the bottom look weird to me, and his legs are so long and flat.

Thems my opinions!

[muletia]

No thoughts just putting bumper stickers and magnets on the transformers, anything from cute little hearts to “I ride my boyfriend/girlfriend both ways” in neon purple

you know how that one car in Cars had a tramp stamp bumper sticker

Hell yeah, customize your fav bot with the most unhinged bumper stickers. What a peak idea, very big brained

Knockout would definitely get himself a tramp stamp bumper sticker. And also brag about it/try to put himself in such positions so that you can see the sticker as often as possible

[unholyhelbig]

I just re-read your werewolf Kate Bishop series and it’s so good! Would you ever consider doing a lil blurb about r and Kates first turn together? Obviously r blacked out and doesn’t remember but would be cool to see what happened. TIA x

Title: Song of the Wolves [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: An inside look of reader's first and fifth change into a werewolf with Kate Bishop

Trigger warnings: Blood, medical terminology, mentions of teeth, vomit, hunting, werewolf transformations, injuries, nothing else I can think of right now, horrible grammar, I don't proofread

[A/n: ah, you knew I was avoiding this!! it was a challenge and this is so far from my favorite. I rely so heavily on dialogue and this has zero because they're wolves. So I'm so sorry this sucks! I'm not impressed with myself :( ]

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

The First Time

A wet rattle of a cough was something that you were more than familiar with. For career day you’d been saddled with the following around a nurse in the ICU when you drew the short straw your senior year of high school. You couldn’t fathom why it was even an option: Why the school board had approved something so dismal as a kid trudging behind someone who was riding the high of burnt coffee on a twelve-hour shift.

Her name was Nina, and she wore scrubs pockmarked with multi-colored kittens on it. She was nice enough but had explained that most of the people on this floor would either transfer down to rooms that required less monitoring or die before the end of the week. They all had sticky, impossible coughs that bounced in their chests like pinballs.

You were lucky enough to leave after lunch, so you didn’t see any dismal fate. But you had decided that you didn’t want to be anything like Nina with her little joys of bright scrubs and metallic stickers on her badges. Noble, sure. But nothing to make up for the horrors.

Maybe it was penance for now. Maybe if you’d decided to become a nurse or a doctor or an x-ray tech you wouldn’t have to hear the wet rattle in your chest as you vomited up a mix of your own teeth onto the dirt packed floor. Those were your own teeth, right? Flat and human and scattered like alphabet blocks.

But it didn’t hurt anymore. That was something.

You weren’t without teeth either. Your mouth was full of something sharp and vicious, a weapon that could tear through flesh. Everything felt different. Stronger. You were laying down on the cool ground still not able to catch your bearings, much too close to the ground.

There wasn’t an ounce of fear within you. There was simply a rightness. As if the body you had been existing in for the past month was the wrong one and the feral, wolfish, one that you inherited now was what’d you were meant for all along. Still; you had your sea legs, and you had been strapped to the wall, at that. The chains were broken in your struggle, but you made no move to scoot away from your solace.

When you glanced down, eyesight clearer, you clocked fur and paws and claws. When you lifted one gingerly you left a print in the dirt. Setting one down you tried the other. Shifting back and fourth for a few entertaining seconds completely entrapped by the imprints you left on the floor.

An amused chuff from across the room pulled your attention from your own amusement. You’d forgotten you weren’t alone. Your head whipped up at a dizzying speed as earlier events caught up with you. You’d forgotten that Kate was in here with you, had been enveloped in pain so thick and startling that it was easy to succumb to anything but the excruciation.

And fuck was she impressive in this form. Katherine Bishop was always impressive, but something about seeing her like this sent shivers down your spine. Her fur was pitch and her eyes were phantom-like. She sat with an elegance that reminded you of royalty, a stance that screamed of her power.

Of course, she had seen you vomit clumsily and play with sand, so there was that. But she was staring at you with so much delicacy that none of that seemed to matter. You knew that. The primal side of you that had just emerged and taken over every aspect of you knew that too.  

Kate sniffed one of her ears twitching before pinning back in a sign of worry. When she tentatively rose to her feet she did so slowly as if not to startle you. There wasn’t much room to close between you both, but she was careful and lowered herself back down into a sitting position when she deemed herself close enough.

She was even bigger up close. You had to tilt your head to look up at her. Kate was the embodiment of warmth and your body, your new body, was screaming at you to ram into her to steal some of that heat. But you remained where you were- cautious if anything.

You’d studied wolves before. Not overtly, just for a book report in fifth grade because they seemed like the coolest animal at the time. It was a big deal, you knew, for Kate to sit here in front of you with her throat so openly exposed like this. You must just be that small, that insignificant, that she saw you as no threat.

A whimper from her startled through the room, as if she sensed your spiraling thoughts. Her cold nose was nuzzling against your jaw in moment’s notice, soothing the rest of your worries. The touch was electric, making you wonder why you’d waited so long to close the distance in the first place.

Soon Kate started to rub her entire cheek against your own, her scent filling your lungs and cooling any lingering pain from earlier in the night. It was woodsy, beautiful and all encompassing. You couldn’t get enough, soon on your feet and sniffing all along her.

Kate delivered a small nip to your muzzle when you’d finished making your rounds, amused at your antic. You hadn’t realized that blood was matted against your own fur, the edges where you’d pulled a bit too hard at your restraints. Kate’s ears pinned back, head dipping in a sign of submission, you supposed.

It wasn’t quite clear in your mind, but it made you feel fuzzy, warm, as if she were asking silently for permission. Air blew from your nose and she was nudging you with her massive head until you were laying back down on the packed dirt.

You huffed in indignance, staring up at her with accusation. You didn’t know wolves could roll their eyes but somehow Kate did. She was lanky enough to curl her entire body around you, and your aggravation at being manhandled was fleeting, just like that.

One large paw was draped over your back, as if she was willing you to stay still. You wouldn’t go anywhere. You didn’t want to be anywhere else. If you could possibly nuzzle any closer to her you would. The comfort she offered was unmatched.

Alright, maybe you did want to squirm away. Kate’s tongue started to work at the blood-matted fur around your collar, a defeated snarl escaping you, her paw putting warning pressure on your back. You rest your chin on the ground, resigned to your fate.

Comfort bloomed deep within your belly at the action. It was affection, you knew that much. After something so scary, something that was so unfamiliar, this was everything your wolf had wanted. Everything she was screaming so desperately for since Kate had sunk her teeth into your flesh.

She sniffed by your ear once she was satisfied enough with her job, the action endearing. Soon her head was placed next to yours, a whining yawn tearing through her. It made her look tiny, non-threatening despite her size and her piercing eyes. You licked at her jaw in thanks, possibly more. You weren’t quite sure, just grateful for the company and the diligence.

Kate curled tighter around you, her breathing evening out to something slower. Despite the taste of your own blood on your tongue, and the ache in bones that didn’t feel entirely like yours, you had never been safer, a large black tail covering your nose, and Kate’s signature scent surrounding you in this charmed hour of the night.

The Fifth Time

Thor hadn’t expected the growl that came from the center of your chest. The clearing was bathed in a pale moonlight and even if it hadn’t been, your vision was perfect. You could see the way Thor’s large form crouched low in submission his tail tucking between his back legs. The sound had scared him, had drawn the attention of the rest of the pack in a way that you weren’t anticipating.

You were a quarter of his size and had never been so vocal about your discontent before. Your lips were curled up and your tail was raised, ears horizonal. You were the picture of dominance, each breath puffing in the air as you stared him down. He crouched lower, let out a whimper of apology.

A flash of red was between the two of you, teeth snapping your way first, loud and clacking then another warning crack towards Thor. Natasha’s green eyes were hard and cold back on your to diffuse the rest of the tension. You let out a whine and dropped your head in acceptance.

Natasha was always faster than Steve, but she was rougher too. The next step would have been a harsh, blood-drawing nip to the side, and you weren’t exactly in the mood for that. Not with the whole pack gathering around you at the commotion.  

None of that really mattered at the moment. Kate’s own blood was a fresh scent that coated your nose and your lungs and your throat where you had lapped it up. You’d known that it wasn’t Thor’s intention to hurt her, they’d just been playing a little too rough.

It had scared you all the same, the yelp that she’d let out. It had pierced your ears and made your veins run so cold you thought they’d turned to ice right then and there. A bone had snapped and moved through flesh and fur and she’d crumbled instantly.

You were on the defensive and Thor backed away immediately. Guilt clouded his eyes and soft mewls of apology left his mouth. You wanted to soothe him, sure, but your body was rigid with the need to protect Kate. Your Kate. Your muscles refused to relax and even with the second highest member of the pack threatening to admonish you if you took one more step towards the giant sandy-colored wolf, you were sure you’d risk anything for her.

Steve took to the group slowly, like honey whisky. He was calculated and assessed the situation before placing himself in the center of the danger as Natasha had done. He wasn’t fearful of carnage, no, he carried enough power to pin you to the ground with nothing but a scathing look.

You weren’t given one.

Instead, it was a small chuff. Steve nudged Thor’s massive form with his muzzle and started to edge towards the clearing in a silent signal to clear out. Privacy. He wanted to give you and Kate privacy so you could tend to her wounds like any good mate would, even if the two of you were far from mated.

You plopped down on your haunches, head tilting to the side in confusion, ready to take your lashing. Natasha lingered; one paw lifted. She’d been just as ready to give one until Wanda nudged her with the brunt of her head.

With another warning snap (and yet another headbutt from her annoyed wife), the two trotted away after the rest of the pack. You didn’t watch to make sure they were entirely gone, either. You were off your haunches and right back to Kate at the base of a large oak tree in moments.

She was on her side, all four legs stretched out and chest rising and falling in languid breaths. Her eyes were closed, partly to deal with the pain, partly because of the late hours of the night. She inadvertently layered one paw over the injured one, shielding it from you.

It was true that you healed faster, but a break like that still took it’s time. She cradled it diligently, opening her eyes when you got closer and letting out a small noise as you approached. Kate looked so small, so timid. It broke your heart and wiped away any doubt of what you had just done.

Kate moved her head to cover her paw, but you released a warning growl, nothing more than a small rumble in your belly. You knew she was scared, her pink tongue moving past her lips twice before she heaved a sigh and allowed you to take a look at the damage.

It wasn’t extensive, the bone had mended, but a pretty deep gash remained in it’s place. You groused, nudging at the pad of her foot before lapping at the edges of the cut. She jolted, stiffed for a moment before relaxing back into the damp grass.

She’d drifted into sleep during your ministrations as the moon rose higher. You curled up close to her, back pressed to her front, watching the slow heal of her ankle. Your own ears twitching dangerously when you caught sound of someone close, the scent of Thor was soon to follow.

Your ears were pinned back, a warning growl pushing forward. You kept it low, threatening, an attempt not to stir the wolf behind you, lest you wake her up.

The large wolf crept forward and gently set a small deer down in front of you. A pulpy peace offering accompanied by a dopy loll of the tongue. You couldn’t help but melt at that. Most of the pack was food-forward and your mouth did fill with saliva at the scent of the meal.

You stood, licking at Thors muzzle in thanks, the tension finally leaving his shoulders before he barked in low joy and darted like a bolt of blonde lighting back through the clearing. Kate herself had stirred at the prospect of food, something you nudged closer to her.

Eat, you silently urged keeping a keen eye on that injured paw of hers, her little scoot towards the deer that was so expertly caught and handled. A sign of peace that settled the hackles that had been raised since earlier in the night.

She was quiet, she was content. That was your girl, and you were hers, even if you had to stand between the largest wolf in the pack. It was customary for her to eat first, and then you to follow after. Those were always the rules.

But she stared at you now, with glassy gray eyes, not touching the meal, but giving you a little grunt. It took you a few slow seconds to realize that she wanted you to share the meal, your head tilting and ear flopping. Kate had to nudge the deer with her nose once for you to truly get it.

Oh. Oh.

Affection bloomed deep in your belly as you joined her. The sweet taste of blood and meat and sinew on your tongue. Kate pulled chunks from the brunt of the deer, pushed them closer to you with her nose, continued to do so until you leveled her with a stare that admonished her enough to force her to eat a fair share. Always the provider.

When Kate had her fill, she limped back to her corner and begrudgingly allowed you to take your place near her as a makeshift guard, her tail flicking languidly. Hunger-sated and paw on the mend. You had the inkling that she was feeling better by the second, her back foot shooting out every once and awhile to tap you on the back.

You turned your head, nailing her with a look that screamed: Really?

Kate met you with one all the same: Really.

[dark-corner-cunning]

Bread from the Hollow: A Mountain Witch’s Sourdough Spell 🍞

Lately, I’ve been downright beside myself with everything sourdough—can’t get enough of it. My house has turned into a full-blown mountain bakery, with flour dusting every surface and loaves rising like quiet prayers in every warm corner. I’ve been handing out bread loaves like love notes, tucking warm rounds into the arms of folks I love, each one a blessing wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a "Made With Love" sticker. And like any true mountain witch, I’ve been folding my magic into the dough—sealing every loaf with workings of Nourishment, Prosperity, and Protection.

In the old mountain ways, the hearth was the heart of the home—and the kitchen, a place where magic and meal danced together in the same pot. The Granny witches of these hills knew food fed more than the belly—it fed the bones, the heart, the soul. Prayers were pinched into biscuits, healing stirred slow into stews, and intention rose right alongside the dough.

Bread, most of all, held a certain power. Sacred and sustaining, it carried the alchemy of time, patience, and hands that know. It brings to mind that line from the movie Red Riding Hood (2016), when the old grandmother says, “All sorrows are lessened with bread.” Ain’t that the truth? There’s something in a loaf—humble and golden—that soothes grief, mends tired hearts, and reminds us we still belong to something warm and good.

The rise of the dough ain’t just science—it’s a slow kind of resurrection. A fermentation of hope.

So, this here is my sourdough bread spell—born of love, flour, and fire. It calls on the element of Earth to ground, the element of Fire to transform, and the living, breathing spirit of fermentation to wake what’s been lying dormant. Like any true cunning magic, it’s both spell and sustenance, meant to bless the body and charm the soul.

May your hands stay warm, your belly stay full, and your spirit never go without.

---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------

Sourdough Spell for Nourishment, Prosperity, and Protection

(For one loaf)

🌾 Magical Ingredients & Their Witchery

Sourdough Starter – Your living familiar. A spirit in a jar. Represents legacy, renewal, and transformation. Carries your energy over time. Feed it like kin.

Flour – The body of the spell. Represents abundance, stability, and foundation. Choose with care. Wheat flour ties to old harvest rites.

Water – The connector. Binds and activates. Use clean or blessed water. Represents intuition, flow, and emotional nourishment.

Salt – The protector. Banishes unwanted energies and holds the spirit of the bread intact. Represents boundaries, purification, and grounding.

Time (fermentation) – The unseen worker. Represents patience, transformation, and the will to become.

Fire (baking) – The final spellwork. Transforms potential into being. Represents will, passion, and manifestation.

Sourdough Recipe:

120 grams sourdough starter

400 grams of flour

250 grams of warm water

9 grams of salt

---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------

Working The Spell

1. Morning Intention

Before you begin, light a candle near your prep space. Wash your hands in cool water with a pinch of salt to clear your energy. Speak aloud:

"As I mix, I mend. As I knead, I weave. As I bake, I bless."

2. Mixing the Dough

Combine your starter, flour, water, and salt in a large bowl. As you stir, chant softly or silently:

"Flour and water, womb of stone,

Feed the spirit, flesh, and bone.

Salt to shield, and time to bless—

May all I need come to possess."

Focus on your intention: Are you baking for strength? For protection? For steady income? Pour that into your hands as you knead.

3. Folding & Fermenting

Every time you fold your dough, whisper a small charm. You might say:

"Rise with power, rise with grace,

Bless this home, this heart, this place."

Cover the dough and leave it to rest. Let the spirit of fermentation do its quiet magic... I do let my loaves ferment overnight in the fridge.

---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------

✒️ Scoring the Sigil

When your dough is ready for baking, dust the top with flour and score it with a blade. This is where you carve your sigil of intent—it can be a simple crossroads ( + ) for protection, a rune for wealth, or your own mark created for this working.

As you score, say:

"By cut and curve, I shape this spell—

Let all be done, and all be well."

I chose a crossroads symbol for protection.

---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------

🔥 Baking the Bread

Slide your loaf into the hot oven. As it bakes, sit with the scent. Visualize your intent rising and solidifying in the world. Let it fill your space with warmth and quiet power.

When the loaf is done and cooled, hold it in your hands. Say:

"From flame and flour, crust and crumb,

The spell is sealed. So, mote it becomes."

Wrap it up and then share it—or savor it—as an act of sacred nourishment.

---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------🍞---------

When you pull that golden loaf from the oven, know this, darlin’—you’ve stirred up a quiet kind of wonder. You’ve fed more than just belly-hunger; you’ve nourished spirit and home, weaving care into every crumb and tucking a bit of spellcraft into the crust. This one’s for you, reader—a gift from my hearth to yours, baked up with magic and love. May each slice bring you comfort and blessing, and may your hearth never be without warmth, wonder, or witchery.

[strwberri-milk]

Kaeya Masterlist 3

Reader Loves Belly Rubs - Fluff, Requested

Lonely? Not With Someone Nagging Me. - Comf, Requested

Baker Reader - Fluff, Requested

Given a Plush Doll - Fluff, Requested

Reason for Waking Up - Fluff, Requested

Loving Him No Matter What - Fluff, Requested

Pissed at Diluc - Reverse Comf, Requested

Surprise Hug - Fluff, Requested

"Break Up" turned Proposal - Fluff, Requested

Trans Masc Reader Lies About Anaemia - Fluff, Requested

Clingy Morning - Fluff, Requested

Villain Archon Reader - Requested

Spinning Reader Around - Fluff, Requested

Getting Railed After Exams - NSFW, Requested

Your Vision Comes Back to Life , Pt. 2 - Requested

Ball of Sunshine Reader - Fluff, Requested

Jacked/Giant Reader - Fluff, Requested

Birthday Blues - Comf, Requested

Flirt Reader, Pt. 2 - Fluff, Requested

Can't Sleep B/C Sensitive Hearing - Fluff, Requested

Meeting his Secret Child All Grown Up - Requested

Getting Off in His Shirt - Smut, Requested

Railing Kaeya - Smut, Requested

Reader Flusters Him - Fluff, Requested

Failing To Notice His Attempts to Date You - Fluff, Requested

Seeing Him Injured - Comf, Requested

S/O Struggles W/ Self-Harm - Comf, Requested

Being Your First Kiss - Fluff, Requested

Calling Him Master [Respectfully] - Fluff, Requested

Kid Making Friends in New Dimension - Requested

His Favourite Accessory - Suggestive, Requested

Giving You a Massage - Fluff, Requested

Worship Makes Him Cry - Smut, Requested

Eating Out Shy AFAB S/O - Smut, Requested

Cuddling Were-Dragon S/O - Fluff, Requested

Coming Out to You - Requested

Getting a Papercut - Fluff, Requested

Addressing Kaeya As Royalty - Requested

Spicy TCG W/ AMAB Reader - Smut, Requested

S/O Dislikes Knights/Cat's Tail - Requested

Buying Him A Gift In A LDR - Comf, Requested

Sibling Has Separation Anxiety - Comf, Requested

Favourite Place to Kiss - Fluff, Requested

Eating Out Kaeya - Smut, Requested

S/O Practices Capoeira - Requested

Him vs. Clingy Cat - Fluff, Requested

FTM Kaeya Walking You Through Fucking Him - Smut, Requested

Larger S/O More Submissive - Requested

FTM Kaeya x AMAB Reader - Smut, Requested

Gentle Dom Kaeya x MTF Reader - Smut, Requested

Over Confident Reader Fumbles - Smut, Requested

S/O w/ Talking Dog - Requested

Self Care Routine - Requested

Struggling w/ Acne - Requested

Cockwarming w/ AFAB Kaeya - Smut, Requested

S/O Recovering from Eye Surgery - Fluff, Requested

Candace - Requested

Competitive 69 - Smut, Requested

Bath Sex - Smut, Requested

Protecting Him From Diluc - Requested

S/O Weak to Compliments - Fluff, Requested

Giving Him A Massage - Fluff, Requested

Teaching You How To Ride A Horse - Fluff, Requested

Secret Librarian Admirer - Fluff, Requested

Reader Feels Isolated - Comf, Requested

Scavenger Hunt Date - Fluff, Requested

Stickering Him During Work - Fluff, Requested

Single Parent x Kaeya - Fluff, Requested

Sibling "Betrays" Him - Requested

Touch Starved - Fluff, Requested

Pining Reader - Fluff, Requested

Being Cared For - Fluff, Requested

Clinging to his Bicep - Fluff, Requested

Defending Nurse Reader - Fluff, Requested

Reader W/ Sensitive Chest - Requested

How To Know Kaeya Truly Loves You - Requested

First Dragon Transformation - Requested

Seeking Affection Quietly - Requested

AFAB!Kaeya Riding AMAB!Reader - Smut, Requested

Being Mad at Dream Him - Requested

Cumming Early - Suggestive, Requested

Teasing Him For Being Younger - Requested

Feeling Nostalgic - Requested

Stressed During Exams - Comf, Requested

You're Ticklish - Fluff, Requested

[firstaidspray]

Happy Halloween! 👻 In the spirit of the season, for an OC of your choice:

1) What are they going as for Halloween? Are they doing it solo or doing a group costume?

2) What’s their favorite candy?

3) Time to settle down with a cozy, spooky watch. What’re they picking?

Omg hii this is so fun I wanna do it for each of my BCS girlies waaahh

1. What are they going as for Halloween? Are they doing it solo or as a group costume? Well, if you haven't seen my BCS Halloween charms/sticker concepts, I did some costumes for Lalo, Domingo, Nacho, and Jesse so I'm also doing regular style pieces with those costumes as well as their partner (except for Jesse bc i don't self ship w him) and they are:

Solana: Red riding hood, with Domingo as what i said was a werewolf in the charm/stickers but is the big bad wolf for a couple's costume with Sol :) She really can say "my what big eyes you have Domingo" bc he does have big pretty brown eyes 🥺🤍

Angelina: So cliche, especially with her name/nickname, but it goes with Lalo's El Diablo costume- an angel. Very simple angel costume, nothing elaborate. I'm almost done with that artwork of them!!

Mari: I was back and forth on whether I wanted her to be a fellow Ghostface with Nacho (bc that's what I drew him as in the charms post) or a victim of him, I settled on a fellow Ghostface ^_^

2. What is their favorite candy?

Solana: She is more of a chocolate person, and her favorites are probably Reese's and Kit Kats.

Angelina: A hard candy kind of person, lollipops especially. Favorite flavor is probably strawberry.

Mari: Anything sour!! Literally any random ass sour candy will do for her.

3. Time to settle down for a cozy, spooky watch. What are they picking? (None of these are actually "cozy" btw)

Solana: The Thing or Alien, give her isolation and transformation and creatures!! Domingo is never surprised when Solana's like "Hey it's Halloween, what should we watch? The Thing?" And he's down for it. RIP Sunday Sunshine you guys would've loved Still Wakes the Deep...

Angelina: Final Destination or anything similar!! Weird random violent deaths please!! They make Lalo laugh too so that's a bonus.

Mari: Anything with a serial killer and/or slasher!! From the classics to the newcomers, Mari likes to inflict these films on Nacho. He's not really a fan but he'll sit through them for her.

Thank you sososo much for asking!!

[brioelevators]

Outdoor Home Elevators in India (2025) | Modern Comfort by Brio Elevators

Imagine stepping out into your garden, feeling the breeze, and then, with just a push of a button, gliding smoothly up to your rooftop terrace—no stairs required. 

In today’s fast-paced urban India, outdoor home elevators are no longer a novelty; they’re a clever way to blend modern comfort with smart design. Whether you live in a multi-story villa, a cozy duplex, or simply want easier access to your porch or terrace, an outdoor lift can transform how you move through your own home.

At Brio Elevators, we understand that every home is unique. That’s why our outdoor elevators aren’t just “boxed machines” stuck onto your wall—they’re thoughtfully engineered extensions of your living space. Below, we’ll walk you through why these lifts are making waves, what types are out there, and how Brio brings Italian style and Indian practicality together under one roof (or, in this case, beside one).

Why Go Outdoor? The Real Benefits

No Interior Makeover Needed You love your living room just the way it is. With an outdoor elevator, there’s no need to tear through plaster or reconfigure your furniture layout. The lift sits outside, preserving the charm—and memories—inside your home.

Accessibility for Everyone Grandparents, little ones, guests with temporary injuries—everyone moves at their best pace when stairs are optional. An outdoor lift is a gentle, dignified way to bridge your home’s levels.

Easy Rooftop & Terrace Access From evening chai sessions on the terrace to stargazing nights on the roof, your favorite outdoor spots become readily reachable. No more lugging trays or climbing steep staircases in flip-flops.

Adds Prestige & Value Let’s be honest: a sleek, branded lift on your façade is an attention-grabber. It signals modern living and can boost your property’s resale value—a win for you now and for the next homeowner.

Which Outdoor Elevator Fits Your Home?

Every home is different, and your elevator should be, too. Here are Brio’s popular outdoor lift types, each designed for a specific lifestyle:

Hydraulic Outdoor Lifts

Why you’ll love them: Whisper-quiet, smooth rides—even when the olives are on the top shelf.

Best for: Villas and duplexes up to 4 floors, where comfort is key.

Pneumatic (Vacuum) Elevators

Why you’ll love them: Futuristic, transparent tubes that feel like something out of a sci-fi movie.

Best for: Tight spaces—balconies, side alcoves, or heritage homes where you want a minimal footprint.

Traction (MRL) Elevators

Why you’ll love them: No machine room needed, and they sip electricity like a barista sips espresso.

Best for: Taller residential blocks or homes with an existing shaft space outdoors.

What Drives the Investment?

Understanding outdoor elevator installation cost means looking beyond the sticker price. Here’s what really matters:

Floors Served: Naturally, going up three floors takes more engineering than going up one.

Weatherproofing: Coastal humidity? Monsoon downpours? UV-resistant glass and corrosion-proof metals keep your lift looking fresh year after year.

Design Touches: Fancy glass cladding, custom colors, or integrated lighting can make your lift uniquely yours—but they do add to the cost.

Structural Work: Sloped plots or uneven walls can require extra supports. We handle those challenges head-on, but they influence the final quote.

The Brio Advantage: Style Meets Substance

As India’s first Indo-Italian elevator company, Brio Elevators fuses European elegance with homegrown practicality. Here’s what sets our outdoor lifts apart:

Plug & Play Setup: Simply connect to a 230V outlet—no heavy electrical rewiring needed.

Slim Shaft Designs: We maximize your space without compromising stability or safety.

Tailored Cladding: Choose from glass, aluminum, or composite panels that match your home’s aesthetic.

Smart Controls & Remote Access: Call your lift from your phone, or program it to arrive automatically when you step outside.

Built for Indian Weather: Our IP-rated motors and seals stand up to heat, rain, and dust—year after year.

Spotlight: Brio BE-360 Outdoor Edition

Imagine a cylinder of glass rising beside your home, offering panoramic views as you glide up—meet the BE-360 Outdoor Edition:

360° Panoramic Cabin: Your garden, sky, and horizon come into view at every ride.

Hybrid Hydraulic Tech: Smooth, silent motion that feels more spa elevator than utility lift.

Luxury & Safety: European-compliant parts, IP seals, and a sleek silhouette that turns heads.

In Their Own Words

“We live by the sea in Chennai—salt air was our biggest worry. Brio’s coastal-grade elevator has been flawless for over two years.” – Pratima Joshi

“They installed it without tearing down any of our living room walls. Quick, clean, and professional.” – Sameer Khurana, Delhi NCR

“Our rooftop get-togethers are a hit, thanks to easy access. Guests love the glass cabin view!” – Deepali R., Mumbai

Is an Outdoor Lift the Right Move for You?

If you…

Have limited space indoors

Host family gatherings on upper-level terraces

Live in a multi-generational home

Want to add a design statement to your façade

…then an outdoor elevator is more than a luxury—it’s a smart investment in everyday safety, convenience, and style.

Final Thoughts: Ready to Rise?

Urban homes demand modern solutions, and outdoor home elevators are no longer a niche—they’re rapidly becoming essential. With decades of experience, cutting-edge Italian innovation, and a deep understanding of Indian weather and architecture, Brio Elevators is your partner in redefining vertical mobility.

Elevate your outdoors—and your lifestyle. Explore our range, book a site visit, or simply give us a call. Let’s make every floor of your home effortlessly within reach.

Ready to Elevate Your Outdoors?

Let’s build the perfect outdoor elevator for your home. 📞 Call Brio Elevators at +91 9398113939 📧 Email us at info@brioelevators.com 🌐 Visit our official website to explore Brio’s full range of home elevator solutions.

[skateboardaustralia]

Non-Slip Deck Sandpaper Stickers

The Perfect Upgrade for Our Electric Scooter!

Transform your electric scooter, skateboard, or bike with our premium non-slip sandpaper stickers! 🛴

Easy to apply and providing a secure grip, these stickers are a must-have for any rider looking to enhance their experience.

Browse to shop now and ride with confidence! Don’t wait—grab yours now!

[cttbo-blog]

📣 Car Eyelashes | Transform your vehicle into a rolling work of art with a dash of personality and whimsy thanks to these delightful Car Eyelashes—an accessory that brings a touch of life and originality to your ride like nothing else! These aren’t just decals or stickers; they’re a playful, eye-catching upgrade that turns your car’s headlights into a set of flirty, fluttering lashes, gi... 🔗 Read more at: https://crazythingstobuyonline.com/automotive/car-eyelashes/

[cleverhottubmiracle]

If you purchase an independently reviewed product or service through a link on our website, SheKnows may receive an affiliate commission. Traveling with kids gets a bad rep, but instead of leaning into the negative remarks from just about everyone with an opinion, help eliminate some of the chaos by gifting your little travelers with luggage that’s all for them. Kid-friendly luggage pieces give them a sense of responsibility and importance that makes them feel so special and included when it’s time to hit the road. Better yet, these pieces of luggage offer tons of fun, too — most have a ride-on options that help them zoom through airports! Best Kid-Friendly Luggage at a Glance Best Carry-On: Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase, $56Best for Toddlers: Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase, $229Best for Kids and Tweens: LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage, $149+Best for Teens: Beis The Carry-On Roller, $238Best for International Travel: Away The Bigger Carry-On, $295Best with Wheels: State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase, $220Best for Organization: Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On, $146Best for a Budget: Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set, $57 (was $84)Best Splurge: MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat, $359Best Duffle Bag: Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag, $112 Related story Here's a Sneak Peek at the New Brooks x runDisney Collab — Dropping at This Weekend's runDisney Springtime Surprise The best kids’ luggage should be durable and functional for all ages. Look for picks that offer fun and exciting designs that kids will gravitate to so that they feel that the pieces are just for them while embarking on travel. Luckily, brands like Stokke and State Bags make it easy for them to showcase their creativity and personality by adding stickers, prints, and bright color combinations to their luggage. And if you’re shopping for older kids, consider pieces that grow with them and have a cool edge to them. Tweens and teens will go crazy over Beis and Away. Regardless of what age you’re snagging some new luggage for, each piece should provide plenty of space to hold clothing, shoes, and accessories for the days you’re away. To help, our team scoured the web to roundup the best finds and also gathered suggestions from veteran moms on staff. Ahead, see 10 pieces of kid-friendly luggage that make traveling a breeze. Our mission at SheKnows is to empower and inspire women, and we only feature products we think you’ll love as much as we do. Nordstrom is a SheKnows sponsor, however, all products in this article were independently selected by our editors. Please note that if you purchase something by clicking on a link within this story, we may receive a small commission of the sale. Best Carry-On Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase This rolling suitcase is perfect for packing as a carry-on. It’s crafted with an exterior zip and mesh pockets to store toys and all of your kiddos’ belongings. The suitcase also has an extendable handle, which ensures easy rolling. The bag can also be worn as a backpack, which they will love! It is also hard not to fall in love with the fun designs.Measurements: 18″ x 14 ½” x 8 ½”Weight: 2.2 poundsWheels: 2Colors: 5 Best for Toddlers Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase Toddlers are just beginning to find independence, so the Stokke BedBox suitcase is a perfect match for little adventurers. It’s easy to push and store in the overhead compartment. And it also doubles as a convenient ride when their tiny legs tire of walking. The suitcase transforms into a comfy in-flight bed, so it’s a win-win for parents and toddlers! And don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for packing. In addition to all the fun the BedBox offers, it also features a durable composition that’s easy to wipe down and disinfect. The suitcase has a multipurpose strap that works for carrying or pulling. There are also shock-absorbing swivel wheels, which are easy to maneuver. Stokke notes that the ride-on feature is designed for ages 3 to 7 and holds up to 77 pounds. Lastly, the package includes two sheets of stickers for personalization.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 7 ½”Weight: 7.7 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 4 Best for Kids and Tweens LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage Crafted all over with LoveShackFancy’s signature print, this suitcase will quickly turn heads. It boasts a spacious main compartment for your fashionista’s clothes and accessories and multiple exterior and interior pockets for optimal organization. There are also heavy-duty metal extending handles that don’t get tripped up, durable nylon zippers, and smooth-rolling wheels. The suitcase comes in a carry-on style ($149) and a larger size ($169) — each with custom monogram options.Measurements: Carry-On: 19″ x 13″ Full Size: 25″ x 15″ Weight: 5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 1 Best for Teens Beis The Carry-On Roller The Beis The Carry-On Roller will excite your teen to go on your next family vacation even if it’s “not cool.” The carry-on roller is stylish, roomy, and functional, so they can travel in style and with more than one pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. They can select 13 colors, including the new limited-edition glossy berry.Measurements: 22.8″ x 15.7″ x 9.8″ Weight: 8.36 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best for International Travel Away The Bigger Carry-On Whether you’re packing up a little or big kid for an international trip, they will need additional space. That’s why we love the Away The Bigger Carry-On — it still meets airlines’ carry-on policies, but there’s plenty of room for necessities. The suitcase is made from a durable, lightweight, 100% polycarbonate shell, premium 360° smooth-gliding wheels, a quick-release trolley handle with two adjustable height settings, and a TSA-approved combination lock. The suitcase includes three mesh pockets and one hanging pocket for the best interior organization.Measurements:  22.7″ x 15.4″ x 9.6″Weight: 7.9 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 14 Best with Wheels State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase This fun carry-on is made with kids in mind. It’s the perfect size for ages six and up. The brand includes 360° spinner wheels for smooth maneuvering, a kid-friendly adjustable handle, and stand-out designs that help your traveling sidekick show off their style. It’s also highly functional and has a roomy interior for toys and clothes.Measurements: 18.7″ x 13.4″ x 9.45″Weight: 6.44 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 17 Best for Organization Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On The Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On doesn’t leave any organization details out. Let’s start with the exterior: Made with a durable zipper to release the expandable compartment, the suitcase offers ample packing capacity while “adhering to carry-on size restrictions,” Samsonite says. The exterior also has a hard shell to keep your belongings safe and sound.Now, the good part is the interior: It has a fully lined body, elastic straps for security, a mesh divider, and other compartments that help you stay organized. The suitcase also looks super cool and has a futuristic, sleek design, which parents and kids appreciate.Measurements: 21.25″ x 15.25″ x 10.0″Weight: 6.5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 15 Best for a Budget Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set Kids’ luggage doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg; take this five-piece luggage set for example; it’s only $57 at Amazon! The luggage set comes with one 18″ hard-side carry-on luggage, a 15″ backpack, a 10″ lunch bag, one neck pillow, and a luggage tag. Recommended for children ages six and over, they will love packing their luggage for their next adventure since each piece is made with the most adorable prints — from puppies to space ships and unicorns.Measurements: 12″ x 9″ x 18″Weight: 7.09 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best Splurge MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat Even though this piece of luggage is a splurge, it’s worth every penny, according to parents. They rave that it’s “back-saving luggage” since it eliminates carrying the kids and their belongings. The suitcase has a comfortable seat they can ride on and rest on while waiting for their flight, equipped with a seat belt for safety. There is also ample room for packing.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 11.5″Weight: 9.2 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 5 Best Duffle Bag Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag Not at all travel requires a carry-on or checked bag; that’s where the Stevyn Duffel Bag comes in. It’s made with soft materials that are a breeze to carry and store. The convenient bag includes a roomy main compartment with interior pockets to easily organize your kiddo’s belongings. Plus, there is a large bottom compartment specially made for shoes to keep the yuckies away from their clothes and brackets. But perhaps the best feature? The luggage sleeve that slides over a suitcase handle when you get tired of carrying it to your destination.Measurements: 19″ x 14.5″ x 10.5″Weight: 3 poundsWheels: NoneColors: 10 Before you go, check out our slideshow below:    Source link

[norajworld]

If you purchase an independently reviewed product or service through a link on our website, SheKnows may receive an affiliate commission. Traveling with kids gets a bad rep, but instead of leaning into the negative remarks from just about everyone with an opinion, help eliminate some of the chaos by gifting your little travelers with luggage that’s all for them. Kid-friendly luggage pieces give them a sense of responsibility and importance that makes them feel so special and included when it’s time to hit the road. Better yet, these pieces of luggage offer tons of fun, too — most have a ride-on options that help them zoom through airports! Best Kid-Friendly Luggage at a Glance Best Carry-On: Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase, $56Best for Toddlers: Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase, $229Best for Kids and Tweens: LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage, $149+Best for Teens: Beis The Carry-On Roller, $238Best for International Travel: Away The Bigger Carry-On, $295Best with Wheels: State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase, $220Best for Organization: Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On, $146Best for a Budget: Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set, $57 (was $84)Best Splurge: MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat, $359Best Duffle Bag: Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag, $112 Related story Here's a Sneak Peek at the New Brooks x runDisney Collab — Dropping at This Weekend's runDisney Springtime Surprise The best kids’ luggage should be durable and functional for all ages. Look for picks that offer fun and exciting designs that kids will gravitate to so that they feel that the pieces are just for them while embarking on travel. Luckily, brands like Stokke and State Bags make it easy for them to showcase their creativity and personality by adding stickers, prints, and bright color combinations to their luggage. And if you’re shopping for older kids, consider pieces that grow with them and have a cool edge to them. Tweens and teens will go crazy over Beis and Away. Regardless of what age you’re snagging some new luggage for, each piece should provide plenty of space to hold clothing, shoes, and accessories for the days you’re away. To help, our team scoured the web to roundup the best finds and also gathered suggestions from veteran moms on staff. Ahead, see 10 pieces of kid-friendly luggage that make traveling a breeze. Our mission at SheKnows is to empower and inspire women, and we only feature products we think you’ll love as much as we do. Nordstrom is a SheKnows sponsor, however, all products in this article were independently selected by our editors. Please note that if you purchase something by clicking on a link within this story, we may receive a small commission of the sale. Best Carry-On Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase This rolling suitcase is perfect for packing as a carry-on. It’s crafted with an exterior zip and mesh pockets to store toys and all of your kiddos’ belongings. The suitcase also has an extendable handle, which ensures easy rolling. The bag can also be worn as a backpack, which they will love! It is also hard not to fall in love with the fun designs.Measurements: 18″ x 14 ½” x 8 ½”Weight: 2.2 poundsWheels: 2Colors: 5 Best for Toddlers Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase Toddlers are just beginning to find independence, so the Stokke BedBox suitcase is a perfect match for little adventurers. It’s easy to push and store in the overhead compartment. And it also doubles as a convenient ride when their tiny legs tire of walking. The suitcase transforms into a comfy in-flight bed, so it’s a win-win for parents and toddlers! And don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for packing. In addition to all the fun the BedBox offers, it also features a durable composition that’s easy to wipe down and disinfect. The suitcase has a multipurpose strap that works for carrying or pulling. There are also shock-absorbing swivel wheels, which are easy to maneuver. Stokke notes that the ride-on feature is designed for ages 3 to 7 and holds up to 77 pounds. Lastly, the package includes two sheets of stickers for personalization.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 7 ½”Weight: 7.7 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 4 Best for Kids and Tweens LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage Crafted all over with LoveShackFancy’s signature print, this suitcase will quickly turn heads. It boasts a spacious main compartment for your fashionista’s clothes and accessories and multiple exterior and interior pockets for optimal organization. There are also heavy-duty metal extending handles that don’t get tripped up, durable nylon zippers, and smooth-rolling wheels. The suitcase comes in a carry-on style ($149) and a larger size ($169) — each with custom monogram options.Measurements: Carry-On: 19″ x 13″ Full Size: 25″ x 15″ Weight: 5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 1 Best for Teens Beis The Carry-On Roller The Beis The Carry-On Roller will excite your teen to go on your next family vacation even if it’s “not cool.” The carry-on roller is stylish, roomy, and functional, so they can travel in style and with more than one pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. They can select 13 colors, including the new limited-edition glossy berry.Measurements: 22.8″ x 15.7″ x 9.8″ Weight: 8.36 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best for International Travel Away The Bigger Carry-On Whether you’re packing up a little or big kid for an international trip, they will need additional space. That’s why we love the Away The Bigger Carry-On — it still meets airlines’ carry-on policies, but there’s plenty of room for necessities. The suitcase is made from a durable, lightweight, 100% polycarbonate shell, premium 360° smooth-gliding wheels, a quick-release trolley handle with two adjustable height settings, and a TSA-approved combination lock. The suitcase includes three mesh pockets and one hanging pocket for the best interior organization.Measurements:  22.7″ x 15.4″ x 9.6″Weight: 7.9 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 14 Best with Wheels State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase This fun carry-on is made with kids in mind. It’s the perfect size for ages six and up. The brand includes 360° spinner wheels for smooth maneuvering, a kid-friendly adjustable handle, and stand-out designs that help your traveling sidekick show off their style. It’s also highly functional and has a roomy interior for toys and clothes.Measurements: 18.7″ x 13.4″ x 9.45″Weight: 6.44 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 17 Best for Organization Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On The Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On doesn’t leave any organization details out. Let’s start with the exterior: Made with a durable zipper to release the expandable compartment, the suitcase offers ample packing capacity while “adhering to carry-on size restrictions,” Samsonite says. The exterior also has a hard shell to keep your belongings safe and sound.Now, the good part is the interior: It has a fully lined body, elastic straps for security, a mesh divider, and other compartments that help you stay organized. The suitcase also looks super cool and has a futuristic, sleek design, which parents and kids appreciate.Measurements: 21.25″ x 15.25″ x 10.0″Weight: 6.5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 15 Best for a Budget Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set Kids’ luggage doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg; take this five-piece luggage set for example; it’s only $57 at Amazon! The luggage set comes with one 18″ hard-side carry-on luggage, a 15″ backpack, a 10″ lunch bag, one neck pillow, and a luggage tag. Recommended for children ages six and over, they will love packing their luggage for their next adventure since each piece is made with the most adorable prints — from puppies to space ships and unicorns.Measurements: 12″ x 9″ x 18″Weight: 7.09 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best Splurge MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat Even though this piece of luggage is a splurge, it’s worth every penny, according to parents. They rave that it’s “back-saving luggage” since it eliminates carrying the kids and their belongings. The suitcase has a comfortable seat they can ride on and rest on while waiting for their flight, equipped with a seat belt for safety. There is also ample room for packing.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 11.5″Weight: 9.2 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 5 Best Duffle Bag Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag Not at all travel requires a carry-on or checked bag; that’s where the Stevyn Duffel Bag comes in. It’s made with soft materials that are a breeze to carry and store. The convenient bag includes a roomy main compartment with interior pockets to easily organize your kiddo’s belongings. Plus, there is a large bottom compartment specially made for shoes to keep the yuckies away from their clothes and brackets. But perhaps the best feature? The luggage sleeve that slides over a suitcase handle when you get tired of carrying it to your destination.Measurements: 19″ x 14.5″ x 10.5″Weight: 3 poundsWheels: NoneColors: 10 Before you go, check out our slideshow below:    Source link

[chilimili212]

If you purchase an independently reviewed product or service through a link on our website, SheKnows may receive an affiliate commission. Traveling with kids gets a bad rep, but instead of leaning into the negative remarks from just about everyone with an opinion, help eliminate some of the chaos by gifting your little travelers with luggage that’s all for them. Kid-friendly luggage pieces give them a sense of responsibility and importance that makes them feel so special and included when it’s time to hit the road. Better yet, these pieces of luggage offer tons of fun, too — most have a ride-on options that help them zoom through airports! Best Kid-Friendly Luggage at a Glance Best Carry-On: Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase, $56Best for Toddlers: Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase, $229Best for Kids and Tweens: LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage, $149+Best for Teens: Beis The Carry-On Roller, $238Best for International Travel: Away The Bigger Carry-On, $295Best with Wheels: State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase, $220Best for Organization: Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On, $146Best for a Budget: Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set, $57 (was $84)Best Splurge: MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat, $359Best Duffle Bag: Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag, $112 Related story Here's a Sneak Peek at the New Brooks x runDisney Collab — Dropping at This Weekend's runDisney Springtime Surprise The best kids’ luggage should be durable and functional for all ages. Look for picks that offer fun and exciting designs that kids will gravitate to so that they feel that the pieces are just for them while embarking on travel. Luckily, brands like Stokke and State Bags make it easy for them to showcase their creativity and personality by adding stickers, prints, and bright color combinations to their luggage. And if you’re shopping for older kids, consider pieces that grow with them and have a cool edge to them. Tweens and teens will go crazy over Beis and Away. Regardless of what age you’re snagging some new luggage for, each piece should provide plenty of space to hold clothing, shoes, and accessories for the days you’re away. To help, our team scoured the web to roundup the best finds and also gathered suggestions from veteran moms on staff. Ahead, see 10 pieces of kid-friendly luggage that make traveling a breeze. Our mission at SheKnows is to empower and inspire women, and we only feature products we think you’ll love as much as we do. Nordstrom is a SheKnows sponsor, however, all products in this article were independently selected by our editors. Please note that if you purchase something by clicking on a link within this story, we may receive a small commission of the sale. Best Carry-On Stephen Joseph 18-Inch Rolling Suitcase This rolling suitcase is perfect for packing as a carry-on. It’s crafted with an exterior zip and mesh pockets to store toys and all of your kiddos’ belongings. The suitcase also has an extendable handle, which ensures easy rolling. The bag can also be worn as a backpack, which they will love! It is also hard not to fall in love with the fun designs.Measurements: 18″ x 14 ½” x 8 ½”Weight: 2.2 poundsWheels: 2Colors: 5 Best for Toddlers Stokke Kids’ BedBox 19-Inch Ride-On Carry-On Suitcase Toddlers are just beginning to find independence, so the Stokke BedBox suitcase is a perfect match for little adventurers. It’s easy to push and store in the overhead compartment. And it also doubles as a convenient ride when their tiny legs tire of walking. The suitcase transforms into a comfy in-flight bed, so it’s a win-win for parents and toddlers! And don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for packing. In addition to all the fun the BedBox offers, it also features a durable composition that’s easy to wipe down and disinfect. The suitcase has a multipurpose strap that works for carrying or pulling. There are also shock-absorbing swivel wheels, which are easy to maneuver. Stokke notes that the ride-on feature is designed for ages 3 to 7 and holds up to 77 pounds. Lastly, the package includes two sheets of stickers for personalization.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 7 ½”Weight: 7.7 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 4 Best for Kids and Tweens LoveShackFancy Antoinette Floral Mackenzie Ultimate Luggage Crafted all over with LoveShackFancy’s signature print, this suitcase will quickly turn heads. It boasts a spacious main compartment for your fashionista’s clothes and accessories and multiple exterior and interior pockets for optimal organization. There are also heavy-duty metal extending handles that don’t get tripped up, durable nylon zippers, and smooth-rolling wheels. The suitcase comes in a carry-on style ($149) and a larger size ($169) — each with custom monogram options.Measurements: Carry-On: 19″ x 13″ Full Size: 25″ x 15″ Weight: 5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 1 Best for Teens Beis The Carry-On Roller The Beis The Carry-On Roller will excite your teen to go on your next family vacation even if it’s “not cool.” The carry-on roller is stylish, roomy, and functional, so they can travel in style and with more than one pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. They can select 13 colors, including the new limited-edition glossy berry.Measurements: 22.8″ x 15.7″ x 9.8″ Weight: 8.36 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best for International Travel Away The Bigger Carry-On Whether you’re packing up a little or big kid for an international trip, they will need additional space. That’s why we love the Away The Bigger Carry-On — it still meets airlines’ carry-on policies, but there’s plenty of room for necessities. The suitcase is made from a durable, lightweight, 100% polycarbonate shell, premium 360° smooth-gliding wheels, a quick-release trolley handle with two adjustable height settings, and a TSA-approved combination lock. The suitcase includes three mesh pockets and one hanging pocket for the best interior organization.Measurements:  22.7″ x 15.4″ x 9.6″Weight: 7.9 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 14 Best with Wheels State Bags Logan Carry-On Suitcase This fun carry-on is made with kids in mind. It’s the perfect size for ages six and up. The brand includes 360° spinner wheels for smooth maneuvering, a kid-friendly adjustable handle, and stand-out designs that help your traveling sidekick show off their style. It’s also highly functional and has a roomy interior for toys and clothes.Measurements: 18.7″ x 13.4″ x 9.45″Weight: 6.44 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 17 Best for Organization Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On The Samsonite Freeform Hardside Expandable Carry-On doesn’t leave any organization details out. Let’s start with the exterior: Made with a durable zipper to release the expandable compartment, the suitcase offers ample packing capacity while “adhering to carry-on size restrictions,” Samsonite says. The exterior also has a hard shell to keep your belongings safe and sound.Now, the good part is the interior: It has a fully lined body, elastic straps for security, a mesh divider, and other compartments that help you stay organized. The suitcase also looks super cool and has a futuristic, sleek design, which parents and kids appreciate.Measurements: 21.25″ x 15.25″ x 10.0″Weight: 6.5 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 15 Best for a Budget Travelers Club 5-Piece Kids’ Luggage Set Kids’ luggage doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg; take this five-piece luggage set for example; it’s only $57 at Amazon! The luggage set comes with one 18″ hard-side carry-on luggage, a 15″ backpack, a 10″ lunch bag, one neck pillow, and a luggage tag. Recommended for children ages six and over, they will love packing their luggage for their next adventure since each piece is made with the most adorable prints — from puppies to space ships and unicorns.Measurements: 12″ x 9″ x 18″Weight: 7.09 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 13 Best Splurge MiaMily 4-Wheel Carry-On Luggage with Seat Even though this piece of luggage is a splurge, it’s worth every penny, according to parents. They rave that it’s “back-saving luggage” since it eliminates carrying the kids and their belongings. The suitcase has a comfortable seat they can ride on and rest on while waiting for their flight, equipped with a seat belt for safety. There is also ample room for packing.Measurements: 19″ x 15″ x 11.5″Weight: 9.2 poundsWheels: 4Colors: 5 Best Duffle Bag Calpak Stevyn Duffel Bag Not at all travel requires a carry-on or checked bag; that’s where the Stevyn Duffel Bag comes in. It’s made with soft materials that are a breeze to carry and store. The convenient bag includes a roomy main compartment with interior pockets to easily organize your kiddo’s belongings. Plus, there is a large bottom compartment specially made for shoes to keep the yuckies away from their clothes and brackets. But perhaps the best feature? The luggage sleeve that slides over a suitcase handle when you get tired of carrying it to your destination.Measurements: 19″ x 14.5″ x 10.5″Weight: 3 poundsWheels: NoneColors: 10 Before you go, check out our slideshow below:    Source link

[rathcoremarketing]

Social Media Marketing Best Practices: How to Boost Engagement in 2025

Social media marketing isn’t dead, but if your engagement has been looking like a deserted highway at midnight, we need to talk. It’s not you—it’s the algorithm. And also, yeah… it’s you.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: 80% of content online is a ghost town. No shares, no comments, just an awkward digital silence. That’s not bad luck—it’s how the game is rigged. Platforms don’t care about how ‘consistent’ you are. They’re not rewarding hard work. They’re rewarding what keeps people glued to their screens longer—because that’s how they make their money.

If your content isn’t holding attention like a last slice of pizza at a party, you’re already losing. And if you’re still posting because you “should” instead of because it actually grips your audience, you might as well be whispering into an empty can.

Optimizing Social Media Strategies for Engagement

Let's face it: in the chaotic realm of social media, consistency is your lifeline. Without a structured social media management strategy, your brand's voice risks becoming as erratic as a cat on a hot tin roof. Effective social media management ensures that your content calendar is as predictable as sunrise, fostering trust and anticipation among your audience. This regularity not only keeps your brand relevant but also signals to algorithms that you're an active participant in the digital conversation, thereby enhancing your visibility.​

How to Use Social Media Management Tools for Efficiency

Imagine trying to juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle—that's managing multiple social media accounts without the right tools. Social media management tools are your safety net, allowing you to schedule posts, monitor engagement, and analyze performance without breaking a sweat. Platforms like Hootsuite and Buffer enable you to plan your content in advance, ensuring that your messaging remains consistent across all channels. By automating routine tasks, these tools free up your time to focus on crafting compelling content that resonates with your audience.​

Best Practices for Social Media Engagement, Including Interactive Content

Engagement isn't a one-night stand; it's a long-term relationship that requires effort, attention, and a dash of creativity. Interactive content—such as polls, quizzes, and live Q&A sessions—transforms passive scrollers into active participants. For instance, Instagram Stories' interactive stickers can boost engagement rates by up to 83%, according to a study by Facebook. Additionally, responding promptly to comments and messages humanizes your brand, fostering a sense of community and loyalty among your followers.​

Organic vs. Paid Social Media: What Works Best?

In the gladiatorial arena of social media marketing, organic and paid strategies are two sides of the same coin. Organic social media involves leveraging free tools to build and engage with your audience naturally, while paid social media entails investing in advertisements to reach a broader audience. Understanding the nuances of each approach is crucial for maximizing your return on investment (ROI). Organic strategies are ideal for building authentic relationships and fostering community, whereas paid strategies can amplify your reach and drive immediate results.​

The Impact of Social Media Advertising on Audience Reach

If organic reach is a gentle ripple, social media advertising is a tidal wave. Paid social media campaigns allow you to target specific demographics with laser precision, ensuring that your content reaches the most relevant audiences. For example, Facebook's advertising platform enables you to target users based on their interests, behaviors, and even life events. This targeted approach not only increases your content's visibility but also enhances the likelihood of engagement and conversion.​

Case Studies on Balancing Paid and Organic Strategies

Case Study 1: The Beauty Brand That Nailed It

A beauty brand struggling with declining engagement decided to revamp its strategy by combining organic and paid efforts. They created high-quality tutorials (organic content) and promoted them through targeted ads (paid content). This dual approach led to a 150% increase in engagement and a 200% boost in sales within six months.​

Case Study 2: The SaaS Company’s Organic Triumph

A SaaS company focused solely on organic growth by leveraging LinkedIn. They encouraged employees to share personal success stories related to the software, humanizing the brand. This strategy led to a 300% increase in organic reach and a 50% rise in lead generation over a year.

Influencer Marketing and Brand Growth

If you’re still throwing free products at influencers and hoping they’ll “spread the word,” then congratulations—you’re actively donating your marketing budget to the abyss. Influencer marketing in 2025 isn’t about clout-chasing; it’s about ROI-driven partnerships that actually convert.

The problem is, too many brands are still mesmerized by big follower counts while ignoring the numbers that actually matter. Micro and nano-influencers are running laps around the so-called “big names.” The data backs it up—influencers with fewer than 1,000 followers have engagement rates eight times higher than those with over 10 million. Meanwhile, influencer-generated content used in social media advertising outperforms traditional brand ads by up to 4x.

So what actually works?

Performance-based partnerships. If an influencer isn’t willing to tie their earnings to real engagement or conversions, they either don’t believe in their own audience, or they know their audience isn’t listening. Either way, that’s a massive red flag.

How Collaborations Enhance Engagement and Credibility

A brand promoting itself is a desperate cry for attention.

A trusted voice promoting a brand? Now, that’s instant authority. Consumers have become painfully aware of inauthentic marketing, and traditional brand messaging has all the credibility of a shady car salesman. Over 84% of consumers say they trust peer recommendations over branded content.

This is about leverage. When an influencer with the right audience aligns with a brand in a way that feels genuine, it hijacks the trust they’ve already built. That trust doesn’t just translate into engagement; it turns passive scrollers into active buyers.

Selecting Influencers Based on Social Media Analytics Tools

Marketing should be data-driven, not vibes-driven. Choosing influencers based on gut feeling is how brands get scammed into paying for audiences that don’t even exist.

Social media analytics tools eliminate the guesswork. Platforms like HypeAuditor, Heepsy, and Upfluence provide hard numbers—real engagement rates, audience authenticity scores, and whether an influencer’s followers are actually potential customers or just bots inflating a worthless number.

If an influencer partnership isn’t backed by data, it isn’t a strategy—it’s wishful thinking.

How to Grow Your Social Media Followers for Business

If your follower count has been stagnant for months, then it’s time to face a hard truth: your content isn’t the problem—your distribution is.

The internet isn’t a meritocracy. Great content without strategic distribution is like throwing a billboard in the desert. The brands growing right now aren’t just posting; they’re engineering a system that forces their content in front of the right people.

Engagement velocity is the holy grail of social media growth. Platforms push content that gains traction quickly. The first 30 minutes after posting determine whether a post gets buried or skyrockets. If a brand isn’t actively driving engagement in that window, the algorithm already decided its fate.

Another underutilized growth lever is strategic interaction. Waiting for people to find your brand is the slowest route to irrelevance. High-performing accounts aren’t just posting—they’re infiltrating relevant discussions, replying to viral conversations, and making sure their name appears where the attention already exists.

Leveraging the Best Social Media Platforms for Audience Targeting

All platforms aren’t created equal. Treating them the same is the fastest way to waste time and effort.

LinkedIn is the B2B goldmine. Over 80% of B2B social media leads come from LinkedIn. Brands that dominate here aren’t just pushing content; they’re engaging in high-value conversations and leveraging thought leadership to build credibility.

Instagram is where brand aesthetics meet real engagement. Reels get 67% more reach than static posts. Brands that aren’t capitalizing on video-first strategies are voluntarily taking an L.

TikTok isn’t just about virality anymore. The brands growing fastest are prioritizing repeatable content formats over one-off viral hits. The TikTok audience churns faster than any other platform—without a system in place, growth is short-lived and meaningless.

Each platform has its own algorithm, audience behavior, and unwritten rules. Brands that study them win. The ones still copy-pasting content across every channel are shouting into the void.

Using Social Media for Content Marketing to Build Long-Term Engagement

Posting and praying isn’t a social media strategy—it’s a gamble. The brands seeing consistent engagement aren’t chasing trends; they’re engineering repeat exposure.

Content layering turns one idea into weeks of engagement. It starts with long-form content—blog posts, YouTube videos, LinkedIn articles. From there, it’s sliced into micro-content—tweets, Instagram Stories, short-form videos. The final step is reposting and repurposing the top-performing content across multiple channels.

Most brands waste time reinventing the wheel every single day instead of maximizing what’s already working. When content feeds into itself, engagement doesn’t just grow—it compounds.

Conclusion

Social media in 2025 isn’t a free-for-all. The brands that dominate the space are playing an entirely different game.

They don’t just post—they distribute.

They don’t rely on outdated engagement tactics—they engineer high-velocity interactions.

They treat influencer partnerships as performance-driven investments, not vanity plays.

They leverage search engine optimization techniques for discoverability, ensuring that their content doesn’t just disappear into the abyss.

The question isn’t whether social media marketing is still worth it. The question is whether your brand is adapting fast enough to stay ahead. The brands that move now will own the digital space in 2025. The ones still clinging to outdated tactics won’t even be part of the conversation.

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